Best Art Poems
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Art
Poem
Artillery Rain
~Perfect Rain~
ME!!
I can see!
All the tribulations around me!
I rage against the burning wind!
Nobody hears the crackling sounds in my voice!
Everybody avoids to feels the smoke hidden within!
A rain so deep it burns all the enamel off my skin.
A rain that cut my soul in half!
Two piece that will never entwine or merge down my dragon path.
I feel this eternity has no ending blaze.
A trigger happy rain, extinguishing a bonfire around my rose.
I will sleep under the artillery stars tonight.
With the perfection of my fiery crystal lava teardrops.
Washing the ashes of my face,
suppressing the overwhelming fire.
Knowing no one will ever, "BLAME IT ON THE RAIN!"
As long as the torch keeps loading another artillery round.
pd
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Art
Poem
BUTTERFLY KISS
*:BUTTERFLY KISS:*
I'm still alive and I don't know why?
My heart survived falling from the butterfly sky.
Caught by the hands of destiny.
With visions only I can see!
My love I heard your call.
Wings of a butterfly broke my fall.
Love motion is in the air, a love no one can compare.
Indulging a look-a stare~that we both share.
Reminiscing our love made out of steal.
Awe~:*! To them butterfly kisses that felt so real!
Flowing like Amazing Grace,
a shining light upon my face.
I traveled fast and far, longing to be in your arms.
I desire the warm sensation of your charms.
Your safe love will help me carry on,
with the strength and bond~the love you set upon.
Nothing is better than a sensual butterfly kiss.
Beyond the sensation of heaven's pure bliss.
Fluttering in the clouds aiming for the moon.
A dream of reality, out of my cocoon I bloom!
Valued by the art of true beauty and it's rarity.
True love flapping in the mist of clarity.
I entwine that I am yours and you are mine.
Bonded together till the end of time.
With the vision my heart is no longer blind.
Two broken heart at last combined.
I glide below to touch your lip.
Our lashes touch from tip to tip.
Caressing each other as our wings expand
Two heart two kisses collide and land
Holding your hand reaching to the rainbow sky.
Kisses:*kisses:* like the butterfly!
((By;p.d.))
Inspired by Nikko, my coolest poet friend
Dedicated to :*Nathan*:
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Art
Poem
The sacred art of dying
darkness come caress me now
and as I die I weep
my body lies here limp and
cold
I prepare myself for eternal
sleep
a million miles of starry skies
to me they look like sparkling
eyes
that come to watch me die
but then they're blocked from
my view
by a deity with soft black wings
i know he's here to comfort
me
though death is what he brings
it's odd
it feels as though he loves me
he strips my clothes away
his wings caress me now as he
holds me
and we begin to sway
he holds me close to his chest
as a mother holds her child
sheltering me as i leave
the wicked and the wild
and i can succumb
because now i feel so weak
then i see a tear
fall from his eyes and wet my
Cheek
it's over now he kisses me
he longs to taste my breath
and as if he longed for more
he sucks it from my chest
his lips linger over mine
for he knows when he pulls
away
the fire in me that screamed to
life
will not see another day
Darkness come caress me now
and as i die he weeps
and now that i feel no longer
scared
he lulls me off to sleep
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Art
Poem
Angel in the Stone
Coral life forms in myriad swarms
Feast in the Cambrian chyme
Dividing their cells and forming their shells
To end on the sea floor as lime
Tectonic churning and magma upturning
Renders marble whiter than bone
The marble is mined, but the cutters are blind
To the angel confined in the stone
A young sculptor arose, with a bend in his nose
And a transcendent creative spark
Charged with ambition to fulfill a commission
An angel for St. Dominc's Ark
An artist sublime who will live for all time
His genius is to see things not shown
For an angel to achieve he first has to perceive
Its splendor enclosed in the stone
At dawning's first glow he surveys the tableau
Of the blocks the stone cutters supplied
In some he sees dreams of potential themes
But only one traps an angel inside
“A beautiful thing never gives so much pain
As does failing to hear it and see it.”
The block that he chose was rejected by those
Who then lied and claimed to foresee it
With talent and skill he falls to with a will
Surrounded by rubble and relic
His method you see, for the angel to free
Is to remove all the bits not angelic
Michelangelo’s art for all time stands apart
But there's something further to heed
For there's a bit more to the fine metaphor
In the tale of the angel he freed
“A beautiful thing never gives so much pain
As does failing to hear it and see it.”
For in all our insides a bright angel abides
And is just waiting for something to free it
To remove all the parts which harden our hearts
And chip out the darkness and pride
To smooth the rough patches and polish the scratches
And unshackle the angel inside
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Art
Poem
The Clouds
THERE HE WAS HOLDING OUT HIS HAND.
My voice=
God can I hold your hand and go with you?
Gods voice~
My sweet child, it is I who will walk with you now! You walked down my path with and without faith. You took my protection to ease your pain. My shielded wings comfort you during your moments of suffering while your life staggered across earth... Your love and devotion is what made you strong. Every time your dreams were broken. You managed to build more dreams in their place. You called my name during your happiest and saddest moments. You always ran up to me when you fell behind. Your secrets became our private talks. The key to your heart was always unlocked. I was there during your trials and troubles of tribulations. We could not speak, but it was my light that would not allow you to get weak.
My voice=
Is this that dream of beauty? The one in the book my preacher spoke of.
Yes! I remember it now it is call paradise. I felt this company once before, Lord.
Many times, I have forsaken this light, and still it never left my door.
I felt it the day I was born, and the day I became baptize in your holy name.
I felt this light before, can you explain it some more?
Lord please clarify that day I fell down to my knees and accepted Jesus as my savior?
Every day since, I felt as if you stood away and walked on by, allowing me to face my own failures’. Was my life a waste in this impossible world?"
Gods voice~
My child, this is the everlasting light you will feel every time your body is re-born onto a new road. This light never left you.
My sweet child did you not listen, Matthew *19:26* MY SON looked at them and said, "With man this is impossible, but with ME all things are possible. My child you were not searching for the right answers.
My voice=
My Lord everyone told me if I prayed you would come. Did I not pray right?
Gods voice~
My child sometimes your heart asked for more than life itself, which left questions for someone else.
At times how could I answer when you shunned heaven away from your eyes?
The obvious question is whether this is the final immersing of your souls disguise.
My voice=
Lord, I have other questions to ask.
What should I expect out of my personal sins? My testimonial sits in the palm of your hand.
My mind and my hearts inner core were wicked since my adolescence days.
How is it that I am in your promise land?
Gods voice~
Getting right with me is brought you here!
My voice=
One more question My Heavenly Father.
Can I see her? I meant, could I see them? My Daughter My Mother and My Sisters~
by;PD
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Art
Poem
WHEN I STOP AND PRAY
When the storm clouds boil around me,
And the lightning splits the sky--.
When the howling wind assails me,
And life's sea is rolling high--
When my heart is filled with terror,
And my fears, I can't allay--
Then I find sweet peace and comfort,
When I simply stop and pray.
When the things of life confound me,
And my faith is ebbing low--
When my trusted friends betray me,
And my heart is aching so--
When the night seems black and endless,
And I long for light of day--
Then I find a silver dawning,
When I simply stop and pray.
There are things beyond the heavens
I can't begin to understand,
But I know that God is living,
And I know He holds my hand.
Yes, I know He watches o'er me
All the night and all the day--
And He's always there to hear me
When I simply stop and pray.
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Art
Poem
The Best Poem Ever
~The best poem ever~
Without saying a word I’m going to go where no one has gone before.
A twilight zone, only God and I know of.
Without saying a word I’m going to recite the best poems ever.
Poems with no vision too stare.
Quietly with a hum, only you can hear.
Silent through my mind I will walk whistling, without a care.
Feeling and thinking as my heart beat goes on.
Searching for your heart beat next to mine.
Dreaming of words that blind,
Dreaming of words which connect us together!
Without saying a word I’m going to look and speak for the first time.
Howl and feel as our chemicals sublime.
I’m going to get hungry before I die in your arms.
Through circles and rods, I carry this year alone.
Imagining all the days it was only you and I.
“Not only I!”
Without saying a word I’m going to listen for your voice to call my name.
A whisper that setting itself on repeat.
Anticipating, those look before you look away.
Wanting and waiting, I will still be whistling.
Overwhelmed by, fate at the door.
Without saying a word I’m going to, leave a whisper in the bedroom
Without making movement, with my mouth!
Control all the space, around me.
Touching the energy you left behind.
Hear the snowy winter chime.
Experience all the shelter in your hold.
Without saying a word I’m going to, lay down beside you.
Laying in a way, that feels better than freedom.
Millions of miles away, I’ll still be whistling.
And waiting and waiting, for that perfect lay.
Arguing and embracing the air we both breathe.
A breath for every reason!
Without saying a word I’m going to, mime the world tonight.
Over and over, till I mime the perfect poem, like the olden days.
Without a word to say!
I’m wrapping my own arms around me, like a mime.
Explaining the breath you took without me.
Talking to myself without saying a word!
Writing the perfect poem without a word to say!
Without saying a word I’m going to, yell this inside.
Whistle and mumble till I’m out of breath.
Dying with my dreams to be by your side!
Without saying a word I’m going to, close my eyes and see your face.
A bond not even death can break.
Without saying a word I’m going to, sit here, till your wind hits.
A tap that’s inspires the best poem ever.
Until then, I’m going to whistle without a word to say.
And enjoy your silhouette everyday.
by;pd
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Art
Poem
The Poetry Club
He enters looking bedraggled, tired and worn out, his skin like vellum, blank and pale.
Lifting his eyes to catch their gaze he gives a slight nod to acknowledge their presence.
He scans the room as he would a poem seeking an indent that leads to a quiet corner.
A half-lit light casts a shadow on the flock wallpaper, ink stained.
He sits hidden from view, away from plagiaristic eyes. Head In hand
Scribbling while listening for a new word, a muse sings, emanating an un-heard
Beat that guides his rhythm while searching for that elusive vowel. On the floor
Is a scattering of pencil shavings and broken lead, frustration at the loss of an adjective.
The half rhyme squeezes like a tourniquet on the brain…
Frustration runs high as enjambment slips off the page and gathers in reflective pools.
The Lay Pastoral reads an Elegy to the passing of Sir Rondeau Redouble, he lead a very lonely life ascending and then diminishing becoming less Didactic, the Footle holds a Lanterne for the loss, while the Limerick found it quite humorous.
At the bar a Stanza of poets gather, disciples of Villanelle, and regale of their latest triumphs in Women’s Quarterly. Then silence falls as Suzette Prime performs her latest Burlesque she is in good Shape. The Epulaeryu’s compare their Diamante while eating their baba ganoush. At the pool table the movers and shakers decant opinions on the latest ‘form’ something to do with A,E,I,O,U…Acrostic looks it up and down looking puzzled, Blank verse remains silent,
They dissect, analyse the entrails, the faint hearted feel a little Grook. The atmosphere is tense. Verbs drift like dust in the light, causing confusion, they mop their brows with a tired senryu. The haiku’s have little to say on the matter…
A Quintain of intellectuals quietly sit, the Sicilian sipping slim line Monoku’s (no ice) hoping for a Couplet before the end of the night. On a stool sits the barfly spilling his Bio over the counter top exposing an Ode-ious life, metaphorically speaking. On stage the hottest group in town… Chant Royal and the Syllables… singing their latest Sestina it reached 39 in the hit parade, the notes drift across the room resting on the floor congealing into a poet-tree fountain…they feel at home as the last act MC McWhirtle enthrals with his latest Ballad…the barman Ric Tameter calls time, the evening is a Rap. The club is Epic…
© 27/3/2013
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Art
Poem
Where My Heart Resides
Like open arms
These broken gates reach out to me
And led me to the lonely house
That overlooks the sea
Her door once proud and stately
Now splintered hangs in shame
As she realizes no longer can she
Keep out the wind and rain
I look into her beautiful
Sad and haunted eyes
These windows to her soul
Where alone she waits to die
Her rooms I see before me
Stripped naked raped and bleeding
And somewhere from within them
I hear her softly pleading
She beckons me to enter
I cross her threshold timidly
And suddenly an old familiar feeling
Comes washing over me
The floorboards squeak beneath me
As I move slowly down the hall
Tip-toeing through the paper roses
All withered on her walls
I step into her parlor
With tears falling from my eyes
As precious memories carry me
To the place my heart resides
I see her in her former splendor
Dressed in satin and old lace
Crystal chandeliers reflect the light
And caress her lovely face
French doors open to the fields
Where once I used to play
Make believe in lands of dreams
On sunny summer days
Silky curled beside the hearth
Purring softly as she sleeps
I caress her so tenderly
As my heart falls at her feet
The air is filled with music
As grandma strokes the keys
The aunts and uncles all join in
And sing in harmony
We take our places at the table
Laid out in fine bone china
We bow our heads and thank the Lord
For all the ties that bind us
Grandpa carves the giant turkey
Grandma brings the platters
We fill our plates with food and mirth
And an endless stream of chatter
And when the moon hangs overhead
In a soft and velvet sky
One by one we take our leave
With hugs kisses and goodbye’s.
I love you Grandma
I love you Grandpa
Rings into the night
And once again in my world
Everything is right
I close the door behind me
I say my last farewell
As I hear her take her final breath
In the trill of a whippoorwill
~~~~~
Author: Elaine George
My first entry on Poetrysoup - Feb. 2, 2006
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Art
Poem
In the Sun's Last Glow
On her terrace where she once had viewed a crimson field,
she stands recalling heroes who were battling their foe.
She still can feel the terror! How her poor heart reeled
thinking of her lover fighting on the field below,
with others on that plain bathed red as the sun dipped low.
The brave men lie in caskets which now are concealed
beneath a plain that ran with blood, where bright irises now grow.
She thinks of her own strong brave man, draped in white and sealed
forever in a casket too. He was her Romeo.
The sorrow flooding her she had never thought to know.
She looks down from her terrace with a heart that won’t be healed.
The mighty dead now lie in grassy fields. . . and lo!
Around the graves are swords, which are green blades revealed
with *purple flags that softly wave as a May wind starts to blow
and she is bathed in red again, there in the sun’s last glow.
Written May 27. 2012
For Francine Roberts' Three Forms/Three Themes Poetry Contest
Theme: A broken heart
* Purple flags refer to the name of the purple iris that resembles a flag
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