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Best Verse Poems

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Details | Verse Poem | |

Indian Ink

“Indian Accent”

Hear the whispers inside

Chanting from long ago
Echoes come and go
Losing time in a soft eternal glow

A beautiful and delicate autumn mountain scene
Dry blue eyes enchanting melodies!
Voices falling from the sky
Rising hymns release ancient demons that cling to the soul

The darkness dwells under gentle moonlight
Ancestors of the Spirit World,
Exposing Indian hands that weave native smoke into the air
Their spirits taunting burrows from the muddy Earth
Moccasin makers rise from underneath
Guardians of dream catchers
Smooth thread from the outer edge, bowing heads.
Luminous gems of ivory,
Chasing a florid kiss.

Through the winds of enchanted drums, voices cry out for rain.
The hollow chimes mesmerize  
An ancient rage begins to flare
Stale madness, 
The spears of the perfumed buffalo skin pierced my senses
Removing the veils that cover my eyes
The hands that cover my ears
Washing the scalp that bleeds on my face
They collect tears from memories of the past.

KINDRED IN EVERY WAY!

Raven silk braids, feathers fall from my hair.
Dancing in a horrid hallucination of Peyote,
Waking up from the “American Dream.”
Holding out my arms, I am free, I can fly.

I AM A BIRD!

By; PD

Details | Verse Poem | |

The Sowing

Upon the wind sheltered hillside,
the sharp tang of metal and the sting of salt air lay
over a field of blood-red poppies, no Flanders Field.

At years fall, fields of rape roll like waves,
in the harshness of winter-sleet, stray boulders bow,
like the backs of mothers, and daughters sowing.
Their nails torn, ragged, and bleeding.
They bleed by the moon, and son, upon the fields.
No white crosses mark their passing.

For hundreds of years, and crops of rape, barley and wheat,
small hands, soft hands, and soft thighs bleed.
They bleed daughters, and sons.
They birth the fields by consent or rape and in the fields 
unadorned by silver stars or purple hearts, they writhe.

Today, as May's sun wakes the blood blasted pasture,
each precious drop blooms, a heroines soul
acknowledgement, the poppies yield.

Details | Verse Poem | |

Edinburgh


Sweeping through your scotch broom,
weeping over your cobblestones,
lilting around the columns of Calton Hill,
is an Age of Reason so brilliantly brooding,
some nights I am kept awake
listening to Pendragon's breath caress Arthur's Seat,
and whispers drip from sills on Ramsay Street.

Though roots may drink from a sleepless night,
when morning light creeps through the curtains,
my love for you is renewed.




*This is a re-post 
replacing an opinionated piece


+/-

Details | Verse Poem | |

Don't Come

.

     I don't want your fingerprints ...
     


     (Work in progress)
     (Re-rewriting it)
     (Sorry for the inconvenience)
                             


Details | Verse Poem | |

Midnight Secret

*Midnight Secrets*   

In the dark, I came alive 
~tonight
I found my way 
~into the light

Camouflage in lace, my skin glisten, 
Towards the wind, I listen! 
Skin of envy and gold, 
My limbs suddenly unfold, 
Gracefully I follow the air,
I found myself without a care, 
Every moment, every feeling felt erotically insane, 
Seductively, the night whispers my name, 
A freedom flight 
~into the night.
 
My breast, not of a little girl 
Beyond the hazels, into another world 
My life until this point had been a riddle 
My fingers slither, a play without a fiddle 

Circles with motion, 
Vibrations and self-soothing lotion, 
I touch my self gently, 
Thinking of you relentlessly,
Looking around, 
The night echoes a whimpering sound, 
I want to see, and embrace the secrets inside me,
I squeeze the damp enigma charcoal sheets-
Moaning and moaning, repeatedly. 
Tucking my silk pillows, groping my knees,
I rub my lids slowly, satisfactorily complete, 
Falling back into the realm of counting sheep. 
~Tonight 

by;)

Details | Verse Poem | |

No Reservation

You Are Not Invited

--Latching onto my soul without an invitation--
Elements around my shore expose more than air
--Playing with fire is not a game you will win--

----
Silently she swarms in like a leech, 
Feeding and sucking from the wounds my pain left behind.
She came inside: "Uninvited!"
Here have a drink, and die!
Taste the water drips that sail across my lips 
Plodding vigorously in the open air of her unwanted hostility
Forbidden as one, I noticed her aura a sickening light
Imprisonment that haunted smoke around her own imperfections
The hate and envy, she lives in resides airborne
The sound that she have summoned up hunger  
Brought me near the edge of everything
Feel my pain, a touch of impurities    
Tainted, infected, poisoned passion, her face disguised
Surrender toward serenity, the lighthearted woman I am inside 
She will never take, my full eternal grace
It’s time to reveal that blazing fire I hide
Drown her from the false flown sorrows of gust
Hold her hideous head under water--- burn her false fire out

Never will I turn my back and watch her muster them broken lids
Lungful of lies poisons the wind that flows from her snake like voice
Maneuvering the skies, scheming that snatch in
Like a viper twisting its unmatched curves, 
I strike, like a pyromaniac  --A burning match 
Allowing her to taste a part of the air I breathe 
A waste in the breeze her insecurities 
Trying to destroy what she can't be, what she can't see
At the end, blustery weather will remind her of the sea inside me,

YOU! The Angel, who crawls around like a shadow
Gorging its way into the heart with a charm of greed
Twisting reality hoping nobody sees its true sick identity
Slandering my name as the master of evil and manipulative
Marking my territory, warning others of a cold draft
Grasping the beauty that glows from my soul 
There it stood on the ledge UNINVITED
The devil walked and took my shoes 

:)

Details | Verse Poem | |

CAMPFIRE

~CAMPFIRE~ 

I hunger to taste your solid wood stare
Me! And only you, no one else at all
Snuggling, under the stars
Hungry for each other’s ears.

Chasing every comet across the sky
Fierce when it comes to standing tall
Desires releasing screams from the mundane night
Running naked, throughout the world
Firewood burning the depth of our soul
Dancing in a way we put mortals to shame 
A cloud of grey shade arousing the night
Secret moans before morning dew hits sunrise.

Crawling around in circles
Feeling each other’s heart instincts
Surrendering to the ashes of our skin 
Passion lost deep in a dream-catchers web.

A pack of thieves we long to be
Weaving each other’s growls  
No one dares to separate the pack we create 
A stare of solid wood I hunger to taste. 


~night after night~ 
~IN THE MOOD~
~for you always~

dedicated to *N.D.*

by;p.d.

Details | Verse Poem | |

Hands

Featuring: Leonora Galinta
----------------------------------
Take My Hands
I Offer Them To You
Hold Them Tight
Never Let Go Of Them!
---------------------------------

~MY HANDS~

With all the time on my hands
I gave my hands one job.
  My Hands 
-The Artist-

My hands paint everything in my life
they paint my weakness, my strength 
they paint the fire in my eyes
they hold me when I'm cold
my hands colored my childhood!

Like an architect, 
my hands drew the plans and layouts of my life.
My hands *very articulate, are they? 
They continue to sew and show the way  
Sometimes, my hands paint the truth
Sometimes, my hands paint lies
Painting hurtful images on dry wall
My palms, my fingers embedded calluses from every fall
Creating images, healing my heart
Sometimes my hands are the only friend I see. 

With no words to say
I caress the sky line like a mime
My hands ride the wind, 
My hands paint a world, 
each of their own. 

Young and pretty finger prints 
They feel, they hold, they grip
Don't let go!

Clever and cute
It's time for motherhood
My hands painted your first hold
Traced your first smile
A painting  I treasure forever in my heart
Yes! A Rembrandt they became during birth 
Now your all grown up...  :-(  
Embarrassed to embrace the hold
One day when I'm old you will hold my hands and remember the gold.

My hands paint many designs when it comes to love
sometimes a masterpiece 
sometimes a mistake
sometimes my hands felt images I can't describe
Made up moments of handicap when lost
My hands perfect when in love
They write songs when complete
So many interlock moment with you
Firm, the perfect match, my fingers spoke.

My hands 
-The Artist-
they've been told
held so many times
always meeting, greeting,  
waving hello's and goodbyes... ((you see my hands, they smile too))

Painful, arthritis 
cuts, bruises
Pinching my way through reality. 
Reaching holding on to dreams.
Snapping fingers, we are a team.

My hands age in every turning page
Shriveled and old
Still you embrace and love the hold
my hands touch and make a difference
my hands learned a lot
my hands prayed 
and knew their duty.
My hands employed by me.
When they are bored,
they tap and tap and draw THAT' annoying noise.

My hands know secrets, a fortune teller can never reveal
they hold the past, present, and  future in every line.
I extend my hands,
without flipping the bird
Thank you Hands!
I am enjoying the sign language show.

In my next life, or so
I will praise my hands
Yes so beautiful, tender, they love to feel...................

My Hands
-The Artist-
I can't believe with all the time I have on my hands.
I forgot to mention I'm left-handed.

by;pd

Details | Verse Poem | |

Love Poem - 29

Every day, I fall in love with something new,
while maintaining the love I have already found.

I fall in love with scars, wrinkles,
redundancies and repetition,
items that people throw into the wind,
kick around and step upon.

I fall in love with my enemies,
one of life's hardest lessons to learn.
I find haters to be marvelous motivators.

Every day, I fall in love with something new,
while reinforcing the love I have already found.

The old man who sits in a rain-filled gutter,
seemingly oblivious to the water sluicing down the hill,
splashing against his clothes -
fists raised up to the heavens in fury
as he talks to an invisible audience
about how Apollo stole his dearly beloved wife....

....I fell in love with him too.

I fall in love with things that some people deem as insignificant,
ugly, morose, dirty and immoral.
The more I fall in love, the more I love each passing moment,
including the pain, torture and misery that may appear along the way.

If I write down treasonously treacherous words,
the reader could assume such words to be rooted in rage
or a cynical outlook. But the words are actually born out of love -
I love every single word in existence.

Every day, I fall in love with something new,
while still maintaining the love I have already found.

I fall in love with the woman 
who is too shy to have a proper conversation with anyone,
because she believes herself to be very ugly,
when in fact, she is an exquisitely gorgeous woman.

I fall in love with broken daffodils, bent daisies,
a shattered seashell, the sweet stench of rotting seaweed on the shore,
the way her hair smells baking in the sun.
I fall in love with black and white photographs,
hypnotized by the essence the dead have left behind.
I fall in love with marbles, the feathers of mourning doves,
and with the stray cat who after watching the moving truck drive away,
slunk around the alley in search of scraps -
over the years, she has proven to be
a most respectful and loyal animal.
I fall in love with saints, villains, rusted watering cans,
the way sunlight bends into prisms when it shines
through the cracked antique windowpane
which I simply cannot find the presence to replace.


And as for the people who think that my love is a whole
different spectrum of emotions,
or how it is impossible for someone like myself
to fall in love with something new, every, single day....

....well, I love them too.





April 6th, 2012

Details | Verse Poem | |

Falling Stars

I am a falling star, burning up in the ionosphere,
all of my many lives
flashing through my mind at once -
not experienced in a linear sequence,
but opening up in an all-encompassing bloom.
Time blossoms.
 
-Time-

A million years ago,
I shared the apple,
hypnotized by the seeds
connecting into a pentacle;
a star shining in the fruit's pulpy flesh.

I am a falling star, burning up in the stratosphere,
on a collision course
defined by fate or destiny.
Please make a wish upon me,
so that my life wasn't lived in vain -
the fear of an insignificant life,
without a solid meaning to its end.

With juice sluicing down my chin,
I knew the consequences
of nearly all my actions.
Naivety turned into shame,
pushed me up, high into the sky,
a trade-off for my stubborn rebellions -
I was able to touch the heavens,
only to brace myself
against the steep ride back down.

I am a shooting star, disintegrating in the atmosphere.
Please make a wish upon me,
before I become too small to see.
Please make a wish upon me,
and benefit from my final breath,
so that I do not completely disappear
with this all-consuming fear,
of an end, lacking solid meaning.


Starlight/ Shooting star so bright,
falling star, you see burning up in fright,
I wish you may, I wish you might,
have the wish, you wish for, tonight.

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