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Best Fantasy Poems

Below are the all-time best Fantasy poems written by Poets on PoetrySoup. These top poems in list format are the best examples of fantasy poems written by PoetrySoup members

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New Fantasy Poems

Don't stop! The most popular and best Fantasy poems are below this new poems list.

Fantasy Poem by Didds, The
Fading fantasy by Kalake, Tokollo
- Fantasy Rocker - by Smile, Sunshine
Eden Of Fantasy by chizoba vincent, john
The perfumed fantasy by Banerjee, Prasenjit
Orchard Fantasy by Hay, Laura
Building A Fantasy by Turner, Daniel
Hubby and Wife's Fantasy Filled Day by Loo, Laura
ORCHARD FANTASY by Woo, San
Orchard Fantasy by Haight, Sandra

View all new Fantasy Poems

The Best Fantasy Poems

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Midnight Secret

*Secreto de Medianoche*   
  
~On this very Night~
   I found myself in a
        FANTASY 

Camouflage in lace, 
I run my hands all over the place
Wet whispers drop in between
In a soft stroke,
I touch the tan on my skin 
Pure sweetness unfolds
The perfumes in the air  - Arouse 
   every sexual intention inside
Without a care, 
I'm lost in the moment,

Every feeling at this point,
   feels erotically insane, 
In a seductive way--
  the night whispers my name, 
A freedom flight - into the night.
                            (Like the wind)
 
Caressing my breast, my legs tremble
Beyond the haze, into another world 
Never pointless - A new sensation
My fingers slither, a play tonight

Circles in motion, 
Vibrations and self-soothing lotion, 
I touch myself gently, 
Thinking of you relentlessly,
Looking around, 
The night echoes a whimpering sound, 
Embracing the secrets inside 
I squeeze the dark damp sheets-
Moaning and moaning, repeatedly. 
Holding my silk pillow, groping my knees,
I run my finger on my lips - 
Satisfaction complete! 
Back into the realm of dreams. 
~Tonight~

:)


Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2013

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In The Stars

       Written in The Stars 

-----------------------------------------
Two hearts bleached by the sun
        A poem's - fallen wish
               The Love 
            Of A Life Time
-----------------------------------------

Majestic beams fall from heavens meadow
Two hearts stitched by the constellation
Under the moon's glow 
   You and I
Gazing up into the Starry Sky

This night we sit under the dazzling diamond dust
Our eyes feel and meet tonight 
Stars twinkle a poem of each paired heart
Listen......While......The God's Whisper!

What Is Love? 
They asked
A wish so gently by the stars 
Greeting young couples heart 
Poor but, in love
Mockeries of an old shadow
Light embracing this Auspicious moment 

-Aster Flares-
Intrigued by sad lovers tale
Two souls forever rich- 
Sharing eternity through celestial bliss
Gravitating in the world owned by the stars
A most unfortunate turn of events, 
Romeo & Juliet
Collapsing stars rising with a hymn 
From the moment they fell
Only to reveal how beautiful-- 
-- the stars in the dark
Ever so wealthy, around Orion's Belt
Reading notes on every rhyme, every heartbeat


Stars fall every eve entering the atmosphere
Seeping through the soul, making love a part of light
Permanent illusion
Fireflies Flaring up 
A passion that last longer than a moment

Each  zodiac unfolds
The stars tell you, who you are 
Gaze upon the eternity
Follow the Northern star
Beneath your peaceful splendor 
They will bow
Sunset and the evening star, 
"My Star Of Love" 
Like glitter dust upon a timeless shore
Never will the memory of love be gone
Look up at the stars tonight,
For somewhere out there 
I read about YOU in a poem.

By; PD


Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2013

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Sheol

Dark Knight-tress 

Underneath 
This gown I feel nothing
Silk less feelings
The odor of intimate apparel lessens 
Vanity fare from any sun
Warrior of beauty
Where have you gone?
A fortress of gloom
Not even death wants in
Black nail tips
Brownish plum lips

I close my eyes 
I see them all
The Shadows
Climbing over my soul
The darken deepens 
The stars dim my view
Irremovable makeup
Land becomes an enemy
I become
The Dark Knight-tress
Scolding my next victim

~S~


Copyright © SKAT A | Year Posted 2013

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POOR PETER PUMPKIN

Poor Peter Pumpkin had a very itty bitty head.
So the farmer made him stay inside the garden bed.

The farmer said that he was going to keep him warm with hay.
And there the itty bitty pumpkin stayed for many a day.

Finally, the farmer came to check upon poor Peter,
measured him and then exclaimed, “You’ve grown an extra meter!

I think it’s time for you to finally go and face the world.”
Peter got up from his bed. He twirled and twirled and twirled!

“My,” the farmer shouted, “You’ve grown two legs with feet!
You’re a special pumpkin. My daughters you must meet!”

Poor Peter heaved his hefty bulk, waddling away,
following behind the farmer so he would not stray.

They traveled rather quickly, and soon they reached the house.
The daughters saw the pumpkin and grew quiet as a mouse.

The silence lasted just until at last one daughter spoke,
“A pumpkin with two legs? Is this some kind of joke?”

Her father knelt beside her and whispered in her ear,
“Do not be afraid, my child. You’ve not a thing to fear.

We can carve a lantern. It will be your Halloween treat.
Then we can make lots of pumpkin pies for us to eat."

Peter trembled with a chill to hear their horrid plan.
Jumping out the door, he yelled, “Catch me if you can!”

He ran into the pastures. Then he tumbled down a hill.
As  he rolled he bumped into the couple, Jack and Jill!

“Oh dear me,” cried Peter, “I do not wish to be
a lantern for this Halloween. Please, can you guys help me!”

Jack and Jill then led him to the land of Nursery Rhymes.
His sad fate has now been told to children many times.

For he ran across a man named Peter Pumpkin EATER.
Maybe you can guess now what became of our poor Peter!

10~12~14
Contest: Halloween Co-Writes
Sponsor: Diane Locksley
Written By Jan Allison & Andrea Dietrich
~awarded 1st place~


Copyright © JAN ALLISON | Year Posted 2014

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Pandora's Kiss

"Pandora's Pearls"

Crystal tears drown under the best velvet distinctive feel
A Ghostly feel that leads into a clear diamond road
I found myself seduced down an Ancient Silk Caravan path, 
There she hid behind the golden stones she built around her heart.
She was a white gem against the deepest night
She spoke Latin words upon this dreamy sky
Her eyes were deep and the size of my mother’s midnight pearls
I fell into the stare of her bedroom eyes
Wishing to taste the sweetness of her coconut milk fragrance. 
She lowers the cloak to reveal the beauty in her black pearly eyes
Raven hair under her soft sensual disguise
Her lips redder than the violet rays of the sunset

She buried her beauty, and then exposed what’s under the cloak
Soon, her body turned into rot and bones
Her fingers pointed towards another path,
A rugged road of stones and pearls
I took a blade and press it against my skin, 
Concealing my life shut, after she revealed all my forbidden sins
Her lip, her eyes, her pearly grin, my last vision as my blood drew thin
A sweet kiss of death, falling into the eyes of Pandora’s Spell

by;PD


Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2013

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Sweet Sugar Cookies and Peanut Butter Bars

"I dream of Candy!"

Sweet cakes and peanut butter squares 
A living diabetic's nightmare. --  My heart 
sings to the beat, Under the Neutron Star Crunch
Sweet sugar cookies and peanut butter bars

Taunting whoopers, 
Dancing dum dum's, 
The sweetest silhouette show - in my room
Dreamy, Creamy Cupcakes in the afternoon
Cinnamon Cheerios cascade on my spoon
Sweeter than my sweet tooth
Now and later - a forever honeymoon

Jigglin' my jelly belly boo berry Butterfinger delight
I'm in love, licking the icy ICEE  all night long
Extra freshness, once I crop a top off of a mountain dew pop
My eyes sparkle like diamond dazzle razzles in the sky
i LIVE to fabricate my very own sugar extract R.E.M. Sleep
Savoring the sound of saliva trapped in my mouth
THIS night  -   ovulated buds   -  wait to feast!
Enjoying a delicious dulce music sleepy symphony

Braggin' and embracin' a pinata pillow escapade
Enchanted by a cotton candy crave - calling my name

Lalaloopsy licorice and lemonade tea
The best-wet dream I've ever seen
Marshmallows of solitude dulcify every fresh fantasy
Enticing in a bright slushy skittles daydream freeze

One fat sunny bowl of cereals and cane
Crackerjack spell ---  chocolate chip swirls, 
Caramel lumps constipate the brain
Sizing - peanuts and in a popcorn party payday
Wrigley's wild winter Spearmint Breath parade
Give me, give me, some Gummy bear Dessert  
---------"Another Fruit Ninja hair DAY!"
Watermelon Taffy stuck on the top of my gums
Swallowing the whiteness in a whistle pop bar
I FELL LIKE A SWEET SUGAR STAR!!!

Glaze of glory erupts deep down my throat 24/7
Bubblicious, mint twist, Sunkist the best Twizzler breakfast
Yummy in my twinkie tummy, drooling over frosted flakes 
One more strawberry smoothie 44 oz cup   
Counting each and every Pez popping'' up
Goodnight light, 
It's time to get lost under the midnight moon pie sky
SELF- Huggin'' and snugglin'' to a new sugar rush high

:-D


Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2015

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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 stolen hope
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 its rarity
True love flapping in the midst 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 hearts 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 hearts- kisses collide and land

Holding your hand reaching to the rainbow sky.
Kisses:*kisses:* like the butterfly!


Dedicated to *My Babe*


Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2010

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The Stone

The Tale below was carved one night,
Upon the Stone, by candlelight
...most won’t believe, but some just might
.........most won’t believe, but some just might



.                         Preface

Well James made Beth his lovely bride
(And angels smiled, though teary eyed)
...their bodies bound, their spirits tied
.........their bodies bound, their spirits tied

Upon her hand, a shimmer shone,
As bright as blood, a ruby Stone 
...and brighter still, as love had grown
.........and brighter still, as love had grown

Soon James was sent to man a sail
So Beth removed her wedding veil
...her eyes were bright, her face was pale
.........her eyes were bright, her face was pale

“Well, I’ll be here when you return”
Said Beth to James, who kissed in turn
...a kiss that made her body burn
.........a kiss that made her body burn



.                         BETH’S TALE

1.              The Dream
One night, within a dream deformed,
The cawing of a Crow informed
“...a Ship was stripped where winter stormed
.........a Ship was stripped where winter stormed

Midst winds and waves the thunder boomed
The Ship of Death was surely doomed
...the sea engulfed, the sea entombed
.........the sea engulfed, the sea entombed

Your James... denied by Davy Jones!
His spirit gone, his flesh and bones
...are resting now amongst the Stones
.........are resting now amongst the Stones”



2.               The Quest

Awoken by the ebon Wight
And beckoned by the baneful bight
...I left before the morning light
.........I left before the morning light

Throughout the realm I rode a roan
Until, in time, I reached the Stone
...where shades and dreams in darkness groan 
.........where shades and dreams in darkness groan 

While skipping up and down the sky
A missing moonbeam mocked my eye
...enough to make a Swallow cry
.........enough to make a Swallow cry

For someone stole a star or two
And something else that fate withdrew –
...my jewel of joy, my James Bijou   
.........my jewel of joy, my James Bijou

The shadows of the evening swelled
Where demons of the dusk had dwelled
...and in the far, a vesper knelled
.........and in the far, a vesper knelled

The Stone, beneath the sky, stood cold –
Between the runes, a vapour strolled
...a cloak of fleecy fog consoled
.........a cloak of fleecy fog consoled

A Raven on a branch, enthroned,
Her wings waved once, a wail intoned
...beyond the bay, a banshee moaned
.........beyond the bay, a banshee moaned

I lay beside the Stone, his bride
I lay beside the Stone and cried
...but were it I, instead, that died
.........but were it I, instead, that died

The rainbow of the moon fell dim
A midnight Swan soon ceased to swim
...as if to hide all hint of him
.........as if to hide all hint of him

Between the willows in the swale
There sang a Bird, a Nightingale
...which left me faint and feeling frail
.........which left me faint and feeling frail



3.              Contact

I felt him breathe within a breeze
Responding to my anguished pleas
...and leaves blew by abandoned trees
.........and leaves blew by abandoned trees

“I miss you too, my darling Beth”
Re-echoed from the Ship of Death
...the future buried in a breath
.........the future buried in a breath
	
The Stone lit up a ruby sheen
And clouds were kindled crystalline
...with consequences, unforeseen
.........with consequences, unforeseen

Above, the wretched Raven soared
To where the Ship of Death lay moored
...beneath, the icy ocean roared
.........beneath, the icy ocean roared



4.               Release

I’m joined with James beneath the Stone,
Though to the Ship my spirit’s flown,
...for nevermore to be alone
.........for nevermore to be alone



.                         Epilogue

That night the wayward winds were weird 
The Ship of Death had disappeared
...coyotes called and mortals feared
.........coyotes called and mortals feared

At dusk, the craven shadows crawled
At dawn, the winds of mourning called
...upon the Stone two names were scrawled
.........upon the Stone two names were scrawled

The Raven sits, with wings outspread,
Atop the Stone which shades the dead
...it sometimes shimmers ruby red
.........it sometimes shimmers ruby red



.                         Epitaph

Between the sounds, where silence seeps,
Their love lives on and never sleeps
...and yet, the weeping willow weeps
.........and yet, the weeping willow weeps



inspired by ~fc~

DEFINITIONS
Wight (obsolete): a supernatural being, creature
Bight: a bay or gulf
Swale: a moist depression in a tract of land


Copyright © Terry O'Leary | Year Posted 2013

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The Enchanted Forest

The woods were silent except for the shifting 
soft sounds of his hooves as they fell upon 
the forest floor. There he stood amid the mist in 
his white majestic coat calling to me to come 
to him and ride upon his back, vanish with him,
(as the sun lay dying into quiet shades of twilight)
into an unknown sacred realm where no 
one's footsteps could follow.

I stroked his soft warm velvet nose and felt the 
subtle flair of his nostrils breath on my hand.
When I climbed upon his back we rode 
as one as our love and trust in each other 
had slowly grown into a synergy unsurpassed.
Moonlight filtered through the verdant trees
as darkness enveloped the starry sky.
Suddenly we found ourselves in a glade
where we were surrounded by the soft glow
of tiny faeries as numerous as fireflies.

We were warmly welcomed into their sacred 
sanctuary and I felt enchanted by their sylvan 
beauty as two tiny faeries braided long strands 
of my golden hair, intertwining fragrant flowers.
I was asked if I would help to keep the forest
safe from clear cutting, and I promised I would.
I awoke to the faint sound of hoofbeats as dawn
was rising and there were pretty flowers in my hair.

© Connie Marcum Wong
Poem of the Day April 4, 2016



Copyright © Connie Marcum Wong | Year Posted 2016

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A Dryad's Tale

One day while passing by a tree, I heard a sigh. It seemed the oak could speak; I felt my knees go weak, for like a siren’s song, his whisper made me long to stop and lay me down upon his shaded ground. Because the day was hot, I lingered at that spot. The oak got in my mind because I felt inclined to slip out of my dress, and yes, I must confess it was as if that tree had cast a spell on me! With words of poetry, he started wooing me. His leaves then brushed my skin. I trembled deep within. His branches were so lush, I hoped I would not blush to think each sturdy limb might draw me up to him. I don’t know how or why, but under summer’s sky I disappeared into his essence and I knew the tree had captured me. His wood nymph I would be, for he and I were one that day beneath the sun. As if immortal, now I live beneath his bough; at times I disappear within him, but no fear lives in me any more because the forest floor I roam now with great joy; the woodland is my home! Beneath the firmament, lost in my oak tree’s scent, I feel completely free, his beauty all I see. A young maid passes by; perhaps she hears us sigh and thinks it but the breeze now passing through the trees. But no, it is but I, beneath the summer sky locked in my tree’s embrace, and with my new found grace, I look at her and see the girl I used to be, and my reality is this sweet fantasy


Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2013

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DayDreamer

"The Dream Manipulator"

A wish upon the stars I see
Magical moments with sweet surrenders
Embrace the twinkle notes
My lid slip into an everlasting feel~  In trance, I dream 

Candle wax drips with the night
Bejeweled with bloodshot posies
Lavander occupies scenery
A tune seductive and real~ In trance, I dream

In the country of warm fairy lights
I follow and listen to the echoes
Drifting around the moon's glow
Fog leaks under the new sky~ In trance, far from reality

Lost to the calmness
My physique belongs to the night
Giving life to an ordinary page
Faint away to your beating pulse~ In trance, I dream

Savoring the previous forecast.
The furnace kept warm
Motions moving from this curse
Sun-dance, away from the rain~ In trance, I dream

Suave lid pulls in the glow.
Soft memory fades away the feeling of yesterday
The day swings in a new journey
“DENIAL” is my choice of food~ In trance, I belong to my dream...





Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2012

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A Lesson In Love

"How to tame the madness"

As I sit here, with intense dirty desire,
Tonight I think of you (the moon and stars)
To you, I send a redolent saimiri kiss 
Read and breathe between fine lewd lines
Perfumed by the colors of the Enticing Equinox
Sensually, I create sweet serendipity

Inviting playful lips
Erotic wind and wild wanderlust
Streams like a river through time
I propose a good potion of wet lube
Take me to the furtive imagination of your soul
Embrace the tan and texture tonight
Touch the summer ripples riding high
Promiscuous and delicate, I advocate lust 
A quilt meant for deep and trenchant love
I shut my eyes to feel an Orphic flora floor
Stimulating a hot, sultry siren kettle 
On this night the tingle of passion penetrates
A hypnotic talisman that lets me, please
Inviting ----------- You

~*~


Copyright © SKAT A | Year Posted 2015

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WORKSHOP POEM: GRAND TOUR TO FAIRYLAND

WORKSHOP POEM: GRAND TOUR TO FAIRYLAND Sprinkled-rainbow clouds reign above the skies, peeping yellow in-between wrinkled pillars shine like bulbs to crash the net of fog attached to curve hands of green Cathedrals. A carpet of bluebells and daffodils covers the earth below. Creeping slow are mosses and vines hugging the trees. Polka dots of blood rich roses stand out. Festoons of lavanders, garlands of lilacs marched a primrose path for the queen while the fruits from cherries' hush blush; to peaches supple flair winks on mellow pear. Afloat midair are high and low golden notes trembling free upon river runs and bushes land. Snaps and bounds from strums of bumblebees; signal the nightingales to sing their anthem loud; Their thumps of dulcet-sounds shake the hours. Scents pure as Spring May cocoons the fair while all around swirls the dragonflies-- the star dancers of the sun-kissed day. Rushing wind whistles a lullaby to cast a spell of never-never-land, for there live... thumb-size flying creatures of their kind. Regal in blinding white are the fays and fairies. __________________________________________________ NEW TITLE: MY TRIP TO FAIRYLAND Rainbow-sprinkled clouds marching above the skies, Sun's golden rays peek in-between curved hands of lush green Cathedrals crashing the net of fog sleeping on the ground. A carpet of bluebells plus flashing violets exhale scents on the air. Sly-like mosses and vines hug the trunk of trees. Polka dots of blood rich roses pose, standing grand. Festoons of lavanders, garland of lilacs, swelling banana blossoms, cherries hush-rush blushes with peaches winking flair on frowning pears all prod to honor the queen. High and low golden notes tremble free upon river runs to proud bushes land. From strums of bumblebees are leaps and pounds, luring nightingales'anthem on a merry-dancing groove. Thumps of dulcet-sounds shake the passing hours, Rainbow hues cocoons the fair while all around dragonflies twirl and dive- they, the star-dancers of that sun kissed day. Impressed wind whistles the lullaby spelling never-never-land, for there... there live.. thumb-size flying creatures regal in blinding white-- are the fays and fairies. ______________________________________________ POEM OF THE DAY ---April 07, 2015 ©O.E> Guillermo 9:52 pm, April 05, 2015


Copyright © Olive Eloisa Fraser | Year Posted 2015

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Enchanted house

Across Persian blue streams,
through sylvan valleys,
an isolated river flows towards
a meadow of royal Forget-Me-Nots.
Chartreuse grass flourishes among
an isolated field of daisies and dandelions.

A gallery of trees obscure 
a secluded house with mysterious charm.
Misty smokes surrounds with a spiritual
spell binding mystical aura.
Valiantly standing through centuries,
there are signs of rust and decay, 
but it has not lost its elegance.

Without windows and doors,
it remains desolate - deserted decades ago.
It hides secrets, forgotten in time;
stories that are now regarded as fairy tales.
Legend has it;
it signifies the first kiss between a princess
and a frog - who turned into a prince.

Maybe that is why so many frogs venture there,
waiting for a princess to lift their curse.

22 May 2016
Enchanted House - Poetry Contest by Nayda Ivette Negron


Copyright © Silent One | Year Posted 2016

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Midas Touch

~Do Not Trust a Word, He Says~

He speaks of sunken treasures the way no other man 
The map of his essence is drawn in the stars 
His smile of gold ride out the waves 
The moon is pulled by the prestige of his masculine art 
With great pleasure, your heart now sits in a glass case 

His love lavishes making every moment memorable
This gentleman cultivates you from every direction 
Your blood rises to his flirtatious ego 
His eyes, manipulate you, invade every dream, 
Endless lust, pulled by the enigma of dragon dust wind 
Falling flowers of forgetfulness, when lost in his touch 
He endures, he breathes in ways you can't resist 

Uttered words easily wrap around your heart 
In a game of trust, his lips persuade another kiss 
Like a syndrome, you babble and drool ---- stepping all over yourself 
You are naught more than a fool in love, 
Trusting and believing every golden word spoken from his lip

~I LOVE YOU~

( A Poet Destroyer Collection)


Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2015

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SEA Surf

.
                                                                                                                   I   am an
                                                                                               ocean     wave, with  salty
                                                                           breath. An eager blue, cascading
                                                                  fall.  Worshipping       the golden 
                                                 sand with   gentle, flowing    fingers,   tall.    
                             Saliferous   breezes  flurry above   me and wild   surfers
               ride. I waltz upon the sundripped land, with mystical lovers pride. A          
 bewitching    dance of magnificence. Sea horses hide and dolphins spin, to  my resplendent  
embrace, melting like lava from a dorsal fin. Symmetrical, the radiance  that shines, as noon 
time orbs drip a legacy of glory. Matchless, and noble, I stand and tower.  Whispers of an 
astonishing story. I am so driven, and deep blue, clear. Infused with the motions I pave. 
  Falling    tenderly     back    to  the    sea,     with   one   last      perpetual    wave.


Copyright © Christie Moses | Year Posted 2008

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THE HOUSE OF SPIRITS

It looks like a simple brownstone building,
Not much different then any other but it’s residents,
Are of the haunted kind, not made of flesh and bone.
In every window a wind chime stirs, gently caressed by
A chilling winds icy finger tips, after all this is known as
The house of spirits.
Witchery or voodoo’s domain, it is a place of salvation for
Spiritual challenged, listen to the beautiful music they make,
Singing within this their walled cage of brick and mortar, these
Ethereal victims lost.
Here in peace they wait for the light to find them, a waiting chamber,
Of the lords misstep souls, those whom walked off the righteous path,
Yet are not without redemptions wanton of need.
Wanders of limbo’s astral plain, seekers whom roam blindly until 
Finding a doorway threshold, then crossing over, into this the house
Of spirits.
A corridors slender passageway, a way stations layover for those tired
And weary travelers to rest until their final journey’s end comes for them,
Sanctuaries power house of the supernatural.
Behind these red doors dare not the mortal flesh clasp the gilded knockers,
For within are things of the unspoken variety, creature protectors waiting at
Bay for the stray intruder to wander forth upon this sacred ground.
Angels kindred brethren whom seek out evil, destroyers patrolling the
Darker shadows for night stalkers whom wish to feast upon the forsaken.
But light’s white power is a mightier force to be reckoned with, and vanquished
Will the devils spawn into the depths from which they came, into the bowels
Of hell shall these demons be thrown into the blackened pit from which they came?
In the twilight’s ethereal hour, a mid-ways breaking point between light and dark,
A shimmering glow strikes this standing watch tower of abandonment’s forgotten,
And heaven’s flood gates are opened unto them, calling these the lost upwards
Towards nirvana and at last know true peace.
It looks like a simple brownstone building,
Not much different then any other but it’s residents.
Are of the haunted kind, not made of flesh and bone.
In every window a wind chime stirs, gently caressed by
A chilling winds icy finger tips, after all this is known as
The house of spirits.

BY; CHERYL ANNA DUNN

 


Copyright © cherl dunn | Year Posted 2014

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A Very Good Man

He may not have the perfect face and body, but I can see into a soul radiant like the omniscient sun in azure skies. In indigo nights, I press against his heart, longing to possess his perpetual light. For A Good Man Poetry contest of Lewis Raynes


Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2016

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Mirror Mirror

Your reflection is a liar
It makes no confessions 
The image reaches within
Cold fingers claw at your mind
A mirrored smile
Taunts you
Haunts you
No words spoken
Yet you hear screaming in your head
You reach out your hands
Palms joined on glass
No warmth transfers as you touch
You stare at the illusionary you
Looking back from his backward land
A place without air
Yet it is you who cannot breath
Together you bang on the glass
Cracks appear
You cut your right hand 
Blood trickles down his left wrist
As he licks it off you taste it on your lips
There it is again
That smile
Perhaps it's a smirk
What does he know
Fear rises from within
You turn to walk away
Hair rises on your neck
The sound of shattered glass
As the pieces of you fall
You were never here
All these people you used to be
Shards of glass upon the floor

Nathan's Mirror Contest

Kind of freaky it matches one of your pictures, I wrote this a while ago.


Copyright © Richard Lamoureux | Year Posted 2013

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Super Soupers

It was a rainy day so I flipped through a stack of comics
My Amazing Poet series
Finally I picked the fabulous Five
I liked the picture on the front
Yanny the Zen Master with long black hair
Becca the Creative and Beautiful with her mythical pen
One of my favorites sultry Eileen known as the Emotionator
Anne the Philosopher was right there beside Eileen with her magical smile
Then to round out this team was Vicky Victorious calling from the wilderness 
In this edition they were battling the Poet Destroyer and Joker Jack
who had kidnapped Newbie Timothy Hicks
As I read their words I was in awe of my Heros
They made me cry
They brought me to new worlds
Filled with adventures
Sexy had new meaning
Tears became diamonds
Winds swirled inside my head
All the emotions of the rainbow
I longed to write with such clarity and strength
I tried to flex my poetic Muscles
Worked out every day
Then on the back of the comic
A scrawny poet sat on a beach
Beside the girl of his dreams
He is writing for her when along comes a muscular poet
The big poet kicks metaphorical sand in his face
The the scrawny poets girl is whisked away
Underneath it says
Are you tired of having Metaphorical sand kicked in your face?
Are other Poets getting the girl?
All that can change
Join the Andrea Dietrich School of Creative Poetry
She will have you writing like The Fabulous Five
You will never be afraid to flex those poetic muscles again
So I cut out the back page and sent my five dollars
The address is PO Box 88888 Inspiration California 
Now all I can do is wait
What will the future Hold?


Note there are many Poets here who would appear in my vast Amazing poet series.
Poet Destroyer and Joker Jack are not Evil nemeses they were chosen for the roll
because of their names( also I love their work.) I hope you enjoyed my little tale.
Some of the younger poets may not be familiar with the Charles Atlas ads that used
to be on the back of comics, the rest of you I am sure will get the joke.



Copyright © Richard Lamoureux | Year Posted 2013

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The Old Dark House

The Old Dark House

This tale of “The Old Dark House” is one that’s replete with a
most horrid sense of pure evil and macabre, and is worth being
retold each year during the deep-dark hours of All Hallows’ Eve
before the chime of midnight, when the thin veil separating the
land of the living and the dead momentarily dissolves, bringing
both worlds together until the break of dawn.

Beware of this house’s mythical and ethereal presence in the
shadow dreams of the innocent, and be forewarned to never
conjure its image in your unconscious mind. If so conjured,
The Old Dark House shall become an unending reality to the
innocent and uninformed, and on All Hallows’ Eve, the evil
“Demons of Hell” shall come for your very soul!  

The Old Dark House is one that is bathed and cursed in utter
hellfire and damnation by Lucifer himself. It’s one that creeps a
chill and frozen reminder into the very frame of its nasty, putrid
structure. It shall guarantee you the worst possible nightmares as
your very soul cries in agony and pleads unrelentingly for mercy!

Your nightmares are, in turn, amplified and born into the very
structure of this house with ivy creeping as you palpably sense
the wretched ice-cold fingers of Hell opening the doors to the
cavernous basement were evil shadows of goblins, ghosts,
ghouls, vampires, and werewolves parade openly from past lives.

Everyone suffering the curse of the damned was captured here
when they visited, becoming prisoners to the darkness of true evil,
far away from the light, goodness, and eternal mercy of Almighty
God Himself.

Six generations of my family actually dwelled beneath the rafters
of The Old Dark House where demonic forces were constantly in
play—as hot sparks burned the tongues of lost souls who cried in
agony, and their world would enter the vortex of darkness whilst
blood-curdling screams could be distinctly heard during the night
on All Hallows’ Eve. Ghostly images would appear out of nowhere
supported by the frightening ferocity of Lucifer who is the true dark
presence and ultimate tempter of mankind!

The horror I felt as a young boy trapped in this existence is truly
unimaginable. The image of The Old Dark House still haunts my
adult consciousness, even today, as I would shudder in the cold
night-sweat of sleep to purge its eternal presence from my mind!

Cruel pictures adorn the hell-hole hall of imagination as a gruesome
and unbelievable power underneath wields its vice-grip of hideous
words, whispering in the coldest of ice without the living being able
to breathe in a cloud of mercy and forgiveness, within an ancient
language of evil and evil-doings that twist the shape of words to
suit one’s human fears and cold shivers!

I still don’t understand the full measure of things being lost in this
dark pit of Hell in The Old Dark House. It’s a place that’s devoid
of human meaning and worth as shrunken heads are disembodied!
I hold on to what remains of a past shame, hovering high in the air
as unclean spirits of a crooked vision-circle wander aimlessly as a
Blind Sheppard leads our lost souls to the depressing Dark Land of
Nowhere and Nothingness!

Every October as the full moon rises high in the dark-sky evening,
a ritual fire is set by a local coven of witches to celebrate the advent
of All Hallows’ Eve. These witches know well the power and evil of
The Old Dark House. Their burnt offerings and black magic spells
echo hauntingly as Hell’s own fury is unearthed, challenging all
things virtuous in mankind’s existence and in God’s world of beauty,
hope, kindness, and light.

These evil images of black magic and witchcraft haunted my sleep
entire. I couldn’t sleep at all before dawn. I constantly sense now
an awakening madness in my soul, as if it comes from hidden graves
yet to be uncovered. Images and bad memories of The Old Dark House
push me now toward the opening of unknown tombs. I can actually
now smell Death’s Sulphur-burnt flesh!

Doors begin to rustle behind me as I hear loud footsteps of a pin
echoing deep in my mind. The echo shatters any illusions I have
of human sanity and forgiveness. I feel the sheer horror and begin
suffocating as the stale air is trapped in each breath I take!  

I sit up now—immediately confused, looking directly at a lonely
and empty Black Void that goes on and on and on—to infinity!

Cell doors in the house basement were always closed tight with
rusted iron links bound by heavy chains. As a poor child alone in
this house with other condemned children, there were nice rooms
upstairs that were always barred and shut to us as we suffered in
the filthy basement below. In Lucifer’s Hell!

I recall now too, in my memory, a gallery of special portraits in
The Old Dark House, which formed a ghastly mosaic of pure evil.
These portraits were of key human disciples of Lucifer who had served
him well through the ages. All of these images were grotesque and evil
when taken as a whole.

What did I learn? Evil is what Evil is! And Evil does what Evil does!

I’m free now from the eternal curse of The Old Dark House. I escaped
this mansion of the macabre as a young man and found my soul path
to Almighty God and stepped into His holy light of forgiveness and
redemption! 

As a very old man now, I sleep and dream a lot. Usually my dreams, 
thank goodness, are pleasant as I draw toward the end of my mortal
existence here on earth.

Yet, despite all the good things in my life now, during October of
each year, as All Hallows’ Eve cometh closer in the deep recesses
of my mind—I remember clearly that the ground floor of The Old
Dark House always had these frigid-cold wind gusts that spoke 
chillingly to one’s very soul. As young kids we would run upstairs
in this evil house to hear the “Demons of the Night” moan and cry!

Old Hob always had a way to speak to all of us as kids in His House!

Anne-Lise Andresen, Liam McDaid, and Gary Bateman
A Collaborated Poem, Copyright © All Rights Reserved
September 7, 2016 (Narrative)


Copyright © Gary Bateman | Year Posted 2016

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In her Absence

Here I am once more...smoking 
..on the balcony of my dreams.
My heart’s beating gestures of love...pulsating,
...deserted in the darkness of lust.

Ardent thoughts conquer my mind, 
While puffing circles of smoke in the midnight air,
Slowly...the smoke dissipates into the dim heavens.

Blindly...I ponder the silence of darkness,
As I gaze sightlessly...holding her in my dreams. 
...with passionate...romantic strokes,
I’d softly caress her fears into oblivion,
Echoing my love...crumbling her walls of hurt.

A crimson sea...crashes onto my heart's shore.
Surging waves of yearning...ripple my flesh. 
Mists of love...lace this fervent urge, 
On a night...born from complete desolation.
...an endless craving...of savoring her salty taste.

She fades from my vivid dreams,
Like a puff of smoke in the midnight air.
While I helplessly sink...in the abyss of her absence.


Copyright © Raul Moreno | Year Posted 2009

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Forget Me Not and the Silver Prince



Forget Me Not and the Silver Prince They loved to run and play In the cold of winter time This chilly snowy day With mittens in a shade of red And boots to match the same They followed footprints in the snow This was their favorite game Running to the forest edge They looked so deep inside When footprints that they found instead Had seemed to run and hide For hours they still played this game No heed they paid the cold Forget Me Not began to cry The Silver Prince so bold Said, “Why now cry my little friend In tears that come to freeze A’ shimmering your bright red cheeks As we gaze on the trees” Forget Me Not then answered him While shivering where she stood “The trees,” she said. “They are all dead No leaves do hold their wood” The Silver Prince began to laugh As snowflakes sat his eyes To chuckle at the words she said As snow fell from the skies “My tiny friend, oh precious one These trees are but asleep If you would listen closely now Their snores shall quell your weep” Forget Me Not then listened For in the forest roared A gust of wind so chilling cold Alas the trees had snored “For it is every winter” The Silver Prince did speak “The trees they fall to slumbering As through the cold they sleep” She smiled like the sunrise Beneath her golden hair For this one fact that he had told She sure was not aware Returning to the castle He took her by the hand And whispered something in her ear That she did understand He told her that he loved her And if she followed true He’d teach her all she needs to know Of everything he knew From that day forth they wandered She learned from all he said But one thing true he whispered Kept flowing through her head Her heart was filled with laughter Her eyes they shone so bright Each day that they would run and play Within the warm sunlight When spring it now descended New leaves upon the trees Fresh flowers in the garden grew A soft inviting breeze For at this time she noticed His words were not a lark For every tree turned green again Within their favorite park And on this day she whispered To him these words so true The Silver Prince he smiled She said, I love you too


Copyright © Chris Green | Year Posted 2016

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Broken Wings

As the sun arose in the eastern skies 
a fairy princess sits rubbing her eyes.
Yawning she glimpses her magical isle 
and her tiny lips, curl into a smile.

Standing she stretches in her treetop bed,
anxious anticipates what lies ahead.
She flutters her wings to get them ready,
raising one knee, she jumps slow and steady.

Hovering like, a hummingbird she glides
then races off with both arms at her sides.
With lots to see her day has just begun,
she never stops until the setting sun.

Racing through the forest over fields of wheat
smelling the flowers, is her daily treat.
Talks to the butterflies this sunny morn,
tests the fresh honey and tastes some sweet corn.

Spotting a pond sparkling like a mirror 
zooms back and forth each time getting nearer,
watching her reflection, no time to think
crashed in a deer who had just stopped to drink.

Later discovers she’s broken her wings,
Lies in bed knowing what carelessness brings.
Six months of bed rest was taking their toll,
this fairy princess was losing her soul.

Finally the day came to test her wings
her will is determined her heart now sings,
shouts out with joy as she reaches the sky,
nothing feels greater, than when you can fly.

Iambic Pentameter 
Written by Brenda Meier-Hans 
01.14.2015
Contest: Sketch a Fictitious Character II


Copyright © Brenda Meier-Hans | Year Posted 2015

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The Elves Snow Party


Away up north where it’s snowing they say
the elves are preparing for Christmas day.
Big elves little elves, busier than bees
All building toys, for under Christmas trees.

Some work with hammers others building bikes,
some riding through the room on brand new trikes.
Tiny elf voices ringing loud and clear,
everyone’s full of love and Christmas cheer.

Suddenly the chatter stops; all are still,
Santa walked in the room with book and quill.
Looking down at his book, Santa Clause stared,
then lifted his eyebrows as he declared,

Today I looked inside my books
and I found that we are ahead,
and thought because you worked so hard 
we shall all go outside instead.
Misses Claus made lots of sweet treats
so let’s all eat and be hearty,
for today here at the North Pole
all elves shall have a snow party.

Quick as a wink the elves they disappeared,
Santa just smiled as he tugged at his beard.
Laughing he watched his little friends scatter
and soon the mountains echoed with laughter.

Snowballs were flying, snowmen taking form,
and hot chocolate kept little elves warm.
They were sledding, skiing, skating all day,
see, elves aren’t simply, all work and no play.



Written by Brenda Meier-Hans 
11.29.2014
Contest: Children’s Christmas or Holiday Tale
1st place


Copyright © Brenda Meier-Hans | Year Posted 2014