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The Crusade by Wen, Xianda
Valentine 1rst Place Contest Win of 2015 by Manassian, Eileen
Down With With This I Am by Henderson, Steven
Vacation To Remember by Haight, Sandra
Pop's Death by Jones, Jerrell
Concentrated cancer by Nelson, Eirik
The Green Bird by Wings, Broken
The Curious Offering of the Sacristan by Foster, Gail
This Gothic Girl by Wings, Broken
Hear No Evil by Haight, Sandra

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The Best Iambic Pentameter Poems

Details | Iambic Pentameter Poem | |

Ancient Warrior

I see the wrinkles in your suntanned brow,
You carried burdens then; you see them now.
You’ve heard the cries your people who in pain,
Have shed their tears two hundred years like rain. 

Your sad brown eyes, reflecting now the sky
I see the wings of eagles flying by
Beside you stands an Appaloosa mare
Her spirit one with you now over there.

You hear the drums, they bid you to come near,
Your spirit drawn the beats they ring so clear.
Song like prayers are chanted through the night,
Calling you come, and help them end their plight.  

You’ve heard sad cries and now stand at their side,
You join the prayers with both arms open wide,
United spirits sing until the dawn,
When in the fire’s flames a golden fawn.

Remembering a smile crosses your face,
When tribes were one with Mother Nature’s grace.
The lakes and streams flowing with waters clear,
Flow sadly now, the planet lives in fear.

The weightless feathers that adorn your head
Your tribes grey future weighed you down instead.
Now breathing deep you smell the winds of change
While here on earth your people rearrange.

Written by Brenda Meier-Hans 
10.21.2014
Giorgio A.V. Contest 
Iambic Pentameter 
1st place

Copyright © Brenda Meier-Hans | Year Posted 2014

More great poems below...


Details | Iambic Pentameter Poem | |

The Old House

Seven generations walked through your door,
Which stood so strong and always welcomed in.
You said goodbye when boys headed to war,
Two soldiers lost to battles they can’t win.

Your kitchen always busy as a bee,
With canning, baking apple crumble cake.
Stone hearth, a place for warmth and drink some tea,
The table decked with riches to partake.

The living room a place to sit and chat,
With pictures hanging for one hundred years.
A chair still there where ancestors once sat,
This room for laughter and at times for tears.

Your nursery where many babies grew,
With bassinet where ev’ry child did lie.
The paint would change at times from pink to blue,
A place where time would always quickly fly.

The floors within have felt each child’s first walk,
Their worn out wood drowned many times with stain.
You watched the aging people gently rock,
You’ve heard and felt the tapping of a cane.

I stand and listen in your sacred halls
And feel that you’re a part of everyone.
Each breath we took embedded in your walls,
Of fathers, mothers, daughters and of sons.

Old house of stone your warmth embraces me,
Your children now all scattered far and wide.
You still stand proud for all the world to see,
The thoughts of you, sweet memories inside.

The house my children grew up in.

Iambic Pentameter  
Written by Brenda Meier-Hans 
10.02.2014
Giorgio’s Contest: Iambic Verse III
2nd
Best of 2014  1st place

Copyright © Brenda Meier-Hans | Year Posted 2014


Details | Iambic Pentameter Poem | |

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


Details | Iambic Pentameter Poem | |

Put on Your Warrior Spirit

Don't let him sway you with his sultry rhymes
Don't let him woo and steal your heart away
Don't let him touch your soul with soulful lines
You know, my dear, he only wants to play

Don't let him tell you that you are divine
Don't let him make you think that you're unique
Don't let him say your eyes are pools sublime
You know, my dear, he wants to make you weak

He wants to break defenses and come in
To taste the hidden pleasures of your heart
He wants to take, to conquer, and to win
And leave the walls of love broken apart

There is no greater pain than wounded pride
When truth reveals betrayal's sharpened knife
Revenge will be the thorn there in your side
For he has taken love, and dreams and life

So do not let him win in lover's game
Pick up your sword and gird yourself to fight
If you succumb, you will not be the same
I urge you then to vanquish with your might

Then still your heart and let it dormant lie
Let not your eyes take in the beauty there
He will not stop; he will most surely try
To ravish you and leave you naked, bare

So fight, dear one; your heart is on the line
Don't let your guard now slip; be strong and brave
Heed what I say and know you're spirit's fine
To win this fight, your soul and heart to save

Eileen

Copyright © Eileen Manassian | Year Posted 2015


Details | Iambic Pentameter Poem | |

To the Scoffers of Sensual Writes

To those who think that poetry must be
of lofty things, not sensuality
To those who write of stars and sun and moon
and who to romance will not ever swoon

To those who write of angst and misery
of all that has gone wrong in history
To those who think I write frivolity
and read not what I write: an oddity!

I write to you, and all my thought's I'll bare
and see if you can argue if you dare
If you’ve forgotten passion's blazing fire
Or how consumed your heart was with desire

If you’ve forgotten romance in the night
Or making love in early morning light
If you’re denied the thrill of ecstasy
And can’t bear witness to its urgency

If you have come of age when health concerns
are all of life that now your mind discerns
I tell you dear, the fault is yours not mine
Devoid of love life meets not plan divine

The gift of love is granted from on high
You can’t deny that even if you try
the pleasure’s woven in anatomy
He formed and blessed our sensuality

To reproduce was in his own design
But also to enjoy the act sublime
There is a little bud that’s meant to thrill
It’s only use is pleasure to fulfill

So tell me, what is life if not for this
To show commitment with the sweetest kiss
In right communion to be drenched in love
And in its throes to glide to heights above

My fellow poet, write of lofty things
And all the finer thoughts that wisdom brings
I pity you for love and passion’s reign
Has banished you from glory with disdain

All nature and all life with love is mixed
And so my mind with passion is transfixed
It’s love that makes this world go round and round
Without it, best be buried underground.

Eileen Manassian



Copyright © Eileen Manassian | Year Posted 2015


Details | Iambic Pentameter Poem | |

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


Details | Iambic Pentameter Poem | |

My Heart and Soul Cry Justice

Love Justice made me wrest you from her bed
It’s right for you to lie with me instead
For you were mine before she came to be
A prowling threat to our felicity

My broken heart cries…JUSTICE!

It’s meant for me to ravish you tonight
To give you pain as well as sheer delight
I love you still and yet your heart must pay
For shameless way you gave my love away

My wounded pride cries...JUSTICE

And here you are inside my bed of love
I’ve bound you up, no more a gentle dove
I take revenge on body and your soul
Enslaved, you yield to dominatrix role

My passion mad cries…JUSTICE

I take from you: I take, I take, I take
Each pleasure filled, I writhe and make you quake
I kiss, caress, and taste in wanton might
Your eyes ablaze, your fervor I ignite

My vengeful soul cries…JUSTICE

And all the while I hear you gasp MY name
In ecstasy my spoils of war I claim
You beg forgiveness as you helpless lie
I satiate my needs; fulfilled I sigh

My hungry need cries…JUSTICE

This tryst was meant to teach you lover's pain
You bear the marks of love that is insane
I slash your bonds and fall in your embrace
For I have seen the wonder in your face

Relieved am I, for I have tasted JUSTICE!

For Justin Bordner’s Love Justice Contest
January 18, 2015

Copyright © Eileen Manassian | Year Posted 2015


Details | Iambic Pentameter Poem | |

The Woodcarvers Reward

He walked along the beach a man forlorn
Forgotten were his dreams, his heart was torn
The gentle waves spoke of the years gone by
And drew salt water down from saddened eye  

He saw some driftwood lying on the shore
It sparked his interest and he longed for more
He touched it gently, to his great delight
Sandalwood he’d found:  passion to ignite

The need to carve once more came to his mind
A joy he’d lost and could no longer find
He took it home, that battered piece of wood
With hopes to turn it into something good

A mane of hair took shape beneath his hands
Flowing waves of curly wooden strands
Round shoulders of the woman of his dreams
And breasts and waist of beauty carved supreme

Gracefully her form began to take on shape
When he was done he stood there mouth agape
She was a goddess made of his desire
A love for her consumed him like a fire

At night he wished upon a falling star
She’d come to life and chase his sorrows far
He looked at her before he fell asleep
And smiled for he’d forgotten how to weep

He felt a stirring there beside his bed
A presence seemed to hover near his head
He looked upon his statue now in flesh
Her body like a breeze was young and fresh

She pressed her lips so gently over his
“I need to tell you, love, listen to this
I was discarded, battered, wounded sore
I chose to be a part of life no more

You saw in me my hidden beauty fine
Your wish has reached the heart of the Divine
I stand before you, answer to your prayer
Sent to give you love and tend’rest care.”

She kissed his lips, and veiled him in her hair
His tears she wiped, this answer to his prayer
With him she lay, her breast his pillow sweet
The richest fare of sandalwood, his treat

What else transpires is curtained from our sight
Burning sandalwood…..scents the glowing night

Eileen Manassian Ghali

Copyright © Eileen Manassian | Year Posted 2013


Details | Iambic Pentameter Poem | |

Cosmos Configurator

When I gaze far off into the night sky
The chaos is not pleasing to the eye.
Seems there was never an overall plan
When the beginning of time began.

I don’t mean to sound so high and mighty
But the stuff up there’s not very tidy.
Yes, there are luminous constellations
But it needs cosmic configuration.

When figuring out just how to plan it
I started on the jumbled up planets.
It’s not a stretch to say they need sorting
And here are a few things I’m purporting.

First I thought they should be alphabetized
Or at least ordered according to size.
They could be arrayed by number of moons
But I think that’s getting too picayune.

Sure, there is a listing of other things
Like arranging them by their colored rings.
Or by what lie’s hidden beneath the dust
That entirely coats their outer crust.

I settled and placed them by dimension
As said plan will cause the least contention.
Starting with the sun, since that big old orb,
Can’t help but lead; being so self absorbed.

Petite planet Pluto, this time is first
Mercury’s next, then trodden Mars comes third.
After that Venus, followed by our Earth
Which were in that order, now they’re by girth.

Let’s jump up to Neptune, then Uranus
Which happens to rhyme with Ignoramus.
Yes fancy Saturn, you go next in line
Jupiter’s last, since so easy to find.

Let’s continue this celestial tale
By systematizing the scene, broad scale.
We’ll journey further than Venus and Mars
To coordinate the world of stars.

We can array each pulsar by brightness
Which doesn’t interest me the slightest.
Or chart them based on their distances from us
Though why on Earth quibble with all that fuss?

Instead we’ll do what the globe mappers did
And arrange every star on a grid,
We’ll plot a rough draft on large graph paper
Like olden times, by light of a taper.

Now, you can choose a square and stick by it.
Worry free of the old cosmic riot.
Where each and every star is viewed best
Whether gazing to north, south, east or west.

The sky is looking much better by now
And all the skeptics will have to avow.
That once you know how to rework matter
Like here on earth, it’s the size that matters.

Copyright © David Fisher | Year Posted 2013


Details | Iambic Pentameter Poem | |

A Perfect Storm

Beyond the bay the sun peeked over waves.
The calm belied what destiny would tell.
A statue peers where young men served and gave,
so far from Gloucester shores where seagulls yell;
so far from sheltered harbor's gentle swells, 
undaunted sailors dared the Flemish cap,
too far, as nature mixed a hopeless trap.

Like hungry beasts tempt fate to catch their prey
and stray beyond their tribal hunting grounds,
the George's Bank was left to stern that day
to go where surely greater catch abounds,
but while their hold was filled with bounty found,
two angry storms swirled in a deadly dance
and left the Andrea Gail without a chance

Her captain turned for port but could not know
such wrath of nature blocked their pathway home
and all the crew on wings of angels glowed
the face of God to trust, and not to roam.
Though oft in tumult's grasp they will bemoan
and think to sell their souls in Devil's waves,
yet safe in Heaven's grasp they will be brave.

Copyright © craig cornish | Year Posted 2015


Details | Iambic Pentameter Poem | |

Paid Performance

A beat of drums, a song of solitude.
A deep and timid red, so softly hued.
Majestic beauty, truth is deep like night.
I come to play, if playing Queen is right.
A love is tempting, lust is just a game.
I steal a kiss as fears do turn from shame.
A sigh, a tie, I twist in pleasures sting.
I close my eyes, it's worth remembering.
A song of sex, a dance, I need to hear.
The sound of rushing, breathing, near my ear.
I tie a rope around a willing wrist.
A tie so red it makes the roses twist.
A puppet, pawn, my game is chess, I win.
A check, my mate, be ready to begin.
I feast on pain and pleasure, giving more.
Enjoy the time behind the dark red door.


08-05-2014
Casarah Nance

Copyright © Casarah Nance | Year Posted 2014


Details | Iambic Pentameter Poem | |

A Thousand Years From Now

For he who leans upon the ancient tree
In future’s shade, a thousand years from now
Will you engage a wrinkle in your brow
And ponder ore’ the death of fallen leaves?

Are we so not alike in fairness gained
Or time might choose to forge us enemy?
Would cloak, or hair, or skin, a different blend
Invite those eyes to shun away from me?

If first, those born, have greater weight to bear
Or yours, one day, the lift more heavy lot
Each step by step, we travel blind and torn
Do crossroads come the same or some are not?

Will one day find you leaning by a tree
And find a stone beneath the powdered dust
And wonder if it once belonged to me
To think it bone, or questions turned to rust?

___________________________________________
Iambic Pentameter........By Carrie Richards

Copyright © Carrie Richards | Year Posted 2011


Details | Iambic Pentameter Poem | |

Forgotten Soul

Forgotten Soul I turn my head, and there she is once more In her disheveled, worn and tattered dress, One pew behind me near the exit door She sits head bowed…an image of distress. Two weeks now on a Sunday she is there… The same pew in the church, the same old clothes. She shows forlornness that makes me aware Her life is sadly filled with countless woes. This time she lifts her head and looks at me, As tears swell in her eyes and down her cheek. My heart is broken by the hurt I see Within her wanting eyes so dark and meek. I gaze into her face and see her fears Yet, slightest twinkle in her sullen eyes… With tiny smile, she wipes her falling tears Away, but still I hear the painful cries That echo from her heart so silently Of weakened body, anguished mind and soul… I wonder what in life could possibly Have caused her to now suffer such a toll. And I surmise that homeless she must be, But still some faith has brought her to this spot Where healing strength from God might possibly Renew her spirit when her life cannot. The mass soon ends, and I arise and turn, So now in front of her I sadly stand… She grasps my hand and says, “God Bless, you earn His blessings for a heart that understands." Sandra M. Haight ~1st Place~ Contest: Highest View Sponsor: Casarah Nance Judged: 08/30/2105 ~1st Place~ Contest: Structured Forms – Iambic Verse Sketch a Fictitious Character Sponsor: Giorgio A.V. Judged 12/16/2014

Copyright © Sandra Haight | Year Posted 2014


Details | Iambic Pentameter Poem | |

Love Gently Rocked

We sit, relaxed, at closing of the day,
you turn, a record on to softly play,
then place, fresh logs making our fire enhance,
and gently bow asking me for this dance.

The song, we’ve loved since we were very young,
so often danced with, and so often sung.
You sing, so sweetly in my longing ear,
and with, strong arms drawing me oh so near.

I place, my head upon your shoulder,
you spin, us around our humble room,
we laugh, just as when we were younger,
you stop, to kiss me; then we resume.

Such special times like this I feel my heart,
could never last if we should ever part.
Then shed, a tear by thoughts of losing you,
cause you’re, my one and only love so true.

Music stops; we stay together,
in loves embrace, we melt as one.
With fireplace, still gently burning,
our fire has only, just begun.



Per line:
Verses one two and four have ten syllables 
verse three has nine syllables 
Verse five has eight syllables 

Written by Brenda Meier-Hans 
12.12.2014
Contest: Rock me Rhythm Poems
Sponsor: Sheri Fresonke Harper

Copyright © Brenda Meier-Hans | Year Posted 2014


Details | Iambic Pentameter Poem | |

A Poem of Ruth

The tears well up, and scarce could she not moan
When father, brother, husband, all have died.
She now has no possessions, neither home,
But travels to a distant, unknown land:
Once so secure, yet now compelled to roam;
Once rich in love, she treads through foreign sands.
Her weary feet move forward but by faith;
For all left to her name is mere belief:
Mind, heart so far away she seems a wraith-
Love, happiness- all taken by a thief.

When, sometime since, her heart had broke in two,
The path of life, once single, parted way;
Forsake she could, but this she would not do-
All else was gone- with mother she would stay:
"Intreat me not to leave thee," was her plea,
"For whither thou wilt go, there will I; pray
Forbid me not to follow after thee,
For where thou lodgest I would also stay:
"Thy people shall be mine, thy God my God;
And where thou liest, I will gladly lie
Beside thee, overhead the selfsame sod;
That even then thou mightest be closeby.

"And so they twain walk on, hand clasped in hand;
Both hold the only thing they yet possess:
The younger but a stranger in the land,
An enemy, a widow in distress.

She rose before the sun to find a place
Where she might gather barley ears and wheat;
A field where she might find some needed grace
To gather for their winter store of meat:
Then Boaz comes from Bethlehem, and see,
He tarries with the reapers of the wheat:
He comes to Ruth and says, "Hear'st not thou me?
Remain until the harvest is complete:
"Go not from hence, but in my fields abide,
And let thine eyes be on the field they reap;
Behold, these maidens thou may'st work beside,
And near the reapers thou may'st ever keep."
Then to her face she fell, and wond'ringly
Asked why to her, a stranger, was so kind;
And he replied that she unfailingly
Had cleaved unto her mother with one mind,
And left her father, mother, and the soil
Of her nativity, and kissed the dust
Of some strange land wherein she meant to toil;
Forsaking gods of Moab God to trust:
"The Lord," said he, "reward thee for thy deeds,
 And recompense thy labour and thy love:
The God of Israel answer all thy needs,
And make his wings a shelter from above."
 Then said the maid, "My lord, please let me find
Some grace and favour in thy blessed sight,
For that thou hast been friendly, spoken kind,
And I am but a stranger in the night."
Then Boaz said, "At mealtime here abide;
Rest in the shade, come, sit with us and dine:
So down she sat, a reaper on each side;
She ate her wheat and dipped her bread in wine.
Then Ruth arose, and to her work she leaves:
The master thus commands his servant men,
"Let this young maid glean e'en among the sheaves;
Rebuke her not, for she shall come again;
And let some handfuls fall onto the ground,
There let them lie for my sake and for hers
That she may glean and plenty may be found;
For reasons she has need of it are pure."
And as she worked, Ruth knew not what a sight
Of beauty and of diligence she made,
As in the golden field in sunset's light
She bowed her head and knelt as if she prayed.

It came to pass that in his fields she stayed
Until the end of barley harvest came,
When mother told the lovely little maid
To seek for his provision and his name.
She washed and dripped an oil filled with sweet
Perfumes of wild roses on her face:
She had not much; her beauty was complete
With but her finest clothes to seek his grace.
Her braided hair shone brighter than the gem
That never graced her soft and shapely form;
Her eyes, they sparkled brighter than the hem
Of gold and pearls that she had never worn:
Thus Ruth went down unto the threshing floor
Where Boaz winnowed barley till the night,
And peeked at him so shyly 'round the door;
She never let him leave her searching sight.
His workday done, the master ate and drank;
With happiness his heart was full when fed:
Then by a heap of wheat he went and sank
Into the furry robes that made his bed;
And Ruth, a while watching till he sleep
Kept vigil from a stone used as a seat,
Till when his eyes had closed and sleep was deep
She lifted up the cover from his feet
And softly laid her down and dreamed of brides
Until the watchman struck a dozen beats,
And being startled, Boaz woke and spied
A woman sleeping at his very feet:
"Who art thou?" queried he in sleepy voice;
"Thine handmaid, Ruth," was her unsure reply;
Then blessed he her for wise and kindly choice,
For passing poor and rich young fellows by.
"And now, my daughter, gladly shall I do
According to thy wishes, for all here
Consider thee as virtuous and true;
Howbeit, there is one to thee more near,
A kinsman who must duly have his say:
If he decline, then rest assured I will
Perform the part of kinsman." So she lay
Down at his feet, and both were quiet, still.

In grey of early morning she arose,
Before a face could be discernéd there;
To keep from what some people might suppose
And who might stand along the road to stare:
Then Boaz said, "Bring here the vail thou hast
Upon thy head and hold it in thy hand:
Six times the barley measure filled and passed
From heap to vail as much as she could stand.
Then Boaz went up to the city gate
To find the nearer kinsman, whom he sought,
To see if he would purchase the estate
Of Ruth, and she herself, but he could not;
So Boaz purchased all the widows' land;
The houses, barns, and fields, though overgrown;
And bought what pleased him most, Ruth's comely hand
To cherish and to make his very own:
Then Boaz went to find the handmaid, Ruth
And lift her from a servant to a wife;
To love her in all tenderness and truth
In every day God blessed them both with life.



[By Isaiah Zerbst. Published 9/7/14. Parts of poem have been removed due to soup's limitations.]




Copyright © Isaiah Zerbst | Year Posted 2014


Details | Iambic Pentameter Poem | |

Why So Afraid

Oh, why must you of love be so afraid?
To hide behind the wall of broken dream
For once your love was callously betrayed
And now you will not bathe in passion’s stream

I wait for time with truth to curse that lie
That faithfulness illusive must remain
You think, unloved, that LOVE to you must die
And so you close your heart and nurse the pain

Lie silent, love, and let me soothe your soul
You’re battle weary, made to feel like steel
Succumb to me and give to me control
My soothing touch is able hurt to heal

Unchanging is my love, a fervent fire
Condition it knows not, nor treachery
To bless you with contentment, its desire
If you but test, you’ll know its constancy

My love for you lies dormant for a time
I wait awakening of you to me
I fear you will not feel its heat: a crime
There is so much my love was meant to be

My love for you is pillow for your head
My love for you is food for famished frame
My love for you is peace on restful bed
My love for you is lust devoid of shame

Give in to me; give in to this my plea
Let down your guard and let me taste of you
My lips have longed to kiss what eyes can see
This love that fills my heart is love that’s true

Eileen Manassian






Copyright © Eileen Manassian | Year Posted 2014


Details | Iambic Pentameter Poem | |

Around the Corner

As I walk downtown I see an alley 
Where a black cat sat staring up at me,
The sound of her purring was so soothing 
Lulled and hypnotized me how could that be.

With its green eyes lightning up the darkness 
I saw a sign was hanging that said Tea,
It seemed to be just around the corner
In an alley that led down to the sea.

I walk and the black cat seems to follow 
Awareness of her presence filled the air,
In a flash we turned around the corner 
Where stood an old stone building with one stair.

I looked to find the feline now missing,
Then climbed the step and gently pushed the door,
Cobwebs hung from rafters on the ceiling,
The wind made dust balls race across the floor.

I noticed tea of all sorts lined each wall,
The smells of herbs and spices filled my nose.
Sitting in a corner sat a woman,
Glaring at me sniffing a thorny rose.

Her eyes an emerald green that sparkled 
Her hair a shiny black darker then night,
By her stood a broom with crooked handle 
My senses told me something was not right.

I turned and ran while saying I’m sorry,
It seems I’m lost forgive me and good day,
Hearing horrid screeches I am shaking
Running around the corner in late May.

Soaked with sweat I run out to the main street 
People wonder why I’m carrying on,
As I shout loud, don’t go down this alley
I turn and notice that it now is gone.


Written by Brenda Meier-Hans 
10.17.2014
For Francine Roberts Contest 
Around the Corner 
2nd

Copyright © Brenda Meier-Hans | Year Posted 2014


Details | Iambic Pentameter Poem | |

Island of Sylt

I smile and feel the wind massage my face
Then close my eyes to smell the fresh sea air
The seagull’s wings catch wind then float with grace
A day on Sylt can wash away all care.

I love to see the changing of your tide
Then feel your mud squeeze gently through each toe
You steal my breath your rippled surface wide
Now baring gifts of sea shells as you go.

When you return your rushing waters swirl 
And take back all your precious jewels too
I watch in wonder as your wavings curl
And I’m in awe just at the sight of you

Now lying on your sand I watch each cloud
They tell me stories changing forms for me
Today the Greek Gods sat there very proud
As if they wanted all the world to see

The sun has bent down low to take a drink
Now thirsty from his journey through the sky 
He dips his head in waters turning pink
Then quickly disappearing shuts his eye 

Oh, isle of Sylt your sandy beaches fair
Invite me to return and taste your shore
The salty waters where I’ll sit and stare
Oh, isle of Sylt I’m knocking at your door 

Written by Brenda Meier-Hans 
09.22.2014
Contest: Iambic Verse II
Giorgio A.V.
3rd

Copyright © Brenda Meier-Hans | Year Posted 2014


Details | Iambic Pentameter Poem | |

Old Wounds

Composed, my dreams embrace, then fade
with memories, quite undefined
returning nights, upon the shade
when clocks are wound, and sun reclines

When weariness is not enough
to lie alone, to sleep again,
the darkest ghosts, upon the cliffs
return as if I've begged them in

Appearing with unspoken words
to pull the quilt from tender bones
to race the heart, and pace the halls
and magnify what 's come and gone

For in the dark, a voice is clear
It calls to me, and I can hear
where loneliness has been my friend
and clearer than I could recall

I've pulled apart a scab disturbed
as if it were an angry wound
and somewhere in the distant world
a part of me has never healed

By light of day, you are gone
I'm still alive, again alone
Yet hovering within the mist
with sunlight slipping down the trees
I'll brush my hair, ignoring ghosts
to welcome sleep, becoming lost



____________________________________________________

Copyright © Carrie Richards | Year Posted 2014


Details | Iambic Pentameter Poem | |

Sunbonnet


She shuffled by our house, so slow and bent,
No second thought of where the lady went.
On her return, no one around to see.
A shaded path, she blended with the trees.

We children always giggled, as she passed.
A group emboldens others to harrass.
Our high pitched jeering from a hidden niche,
The frail, sunbonnet lady, we yelled "witch".

One day a fever kept me home from class.
I saw her weary shuffle down the path.
My over-active need to know convened.
I followed with excitement and unseen.

A house engulfed by weeds grown thick and tall,
As vines of every species claimed the walls.
Around the side, a window to peek in; 
A man in bed with twisted, throbbing limbs.
.
The lady rubbed a salve to ease his pain.
And hummed a long forgotten song's refrain.

I blurted all I'd seen to mom and dad.
He stood in shocked alert and mom grew sad.

How soon the path was plowed into a drive,
A grocer truck and red-light cops arrived.
I last recall a fancy bike, brand new.
Events seem blurred, with growing up to do.
.


Gene Bourne.
07-17-14




.

Copyright © Gene Bourne | Year Posted 2014


Details | Iambic Pentameter Poem | |

Serenading the Senses- Adult Content

On whispered breeze I hear your plea to feed
Upon my form you wish to feast and dine
I smile as I inhale desire’s need
And know tonight you’ll taste of lover’s wine

I stand before you now as I undress
My fingers tease the buttons on my blouse
Your eyes must touch before your hands caress
Your lips now part from sight that does arouse

I walk to you with swaying steps so bold
My hair unleashed, it tumbles round your face
Down on your knees, your tongue seeks navel gold
And fingers reach above the curves to trace

My hands go round your neck and pull you in
I taste the lobe of ear and gently blow
the words of want and need desire to win
and whisper pleasured treats you soon will know

I feel you tremble neath my roving hands
You breath comes quick and knowing I lean in
to tie your hands to chair with silken bands
I take command of mouth and trace your chin

I tip your head and then devour your neck
Leave marks of ownership just where I please
You rage against the chords as my lips trek
the journey down below to taste and tease

You call my name in throes of ecstasy
I feel your panting breath against my hair
This night is one of wanton revelry
To satiate your needs is my affair

Before the end of this our passion race
I ride the waves of your euphoric greed
You move to rhythm that I set to pace
Until sweet time when pent up love is freed

And now unleashed, you fall into my arms
Upon my silken breast you lay your head
I lull to sleep with all my sweetest charms
As moonbeams blanket us upon our bed

Jade ;) Celeste

Copyright © Eileen Manassian | Year Posted 2015


Details | Iambic Pentameter Poem | |

In Anger Tinged with Pain

make love to me in anger tinged with pain
for death is lurking near my soul to reap
the world is closing in, I can't keep sane
at time of death these thoughts alone I'll keep

of right to live my life, they will deprive
a darkness drenched in doom enshrouds my mind
make love to me and let me feel alive
there in your arms is where I solace find

Make love to me in frenzy's maddened pace
my body ravage now to match my soul
sear all from eyes except your angel face
Make love to me and try to make me whole

For death will come with lightening speed I know
What is this life? My thoughts are left to seethe
Rebellion pumps my heart and makes blood flow
make me forget the need to even breathe

Make love to me and let me die tonight
my final taste of life, let it be love
and should I meet with death by morning light
let starlight eyes then take me up above

Make Love to Me....

Eileen

There is no coping mechanism...
there is only fear....anger...and a desire to live.


Copyright © Eileen Manassian | Year Posted 2015


Details | Iambic Pentameter Poem | |

Words From A River

Impatient, the river, no time for submission Taking no notice of one all alone It continues to flow, to swirl, twist and turn It pays no attention, thinks nothing of me As I sit here to ponder, to write and compose. Deep in the stones, lie dark secret longings Old stories of those, who sat on the bank Like me, finding hallows to gather and think I'm called by the river to capture the prose Inspired by nature, words flow from creation Written to cast, like leaves on the water The cattails that rattle, the cinnamon fern The willows that lean, each twig bent to listen Before me, were others who sat in the sun On the mossy green bank of the river that knows... Many secrets it carries....and onward it goes Taking no notice of one all alone...
____________________________________________________________ Carrie Richards submitted for Giorgio's Contest: Impress Me (nature)

Copyright © Carrie Richards | Year Posted 2010


Details | Iambic Pentameter Poem | |

The Solstice Door

The light is coming and I wish you well...

Behind the running, running man the land
Lies silent, fallow, haunted by the cry
Of one lone mourning rook who flies alone
Inscribing solemn circles in the sky
There is no time to take a backward look
Just running, running, running, running blind
He leaves the flowered garlands that she wove
With ribbons bright, with summer’s love, behind
He runs with only hope in empty hands
All faint of heart, with life blood running cold
The chill of winter earth beneath his feet
All water turned to ice in frozen fold
All out of breath with minutes yet to live
He runs, through elder grove and stand of yew
Runs, seeking for the ancient Solstice door
Described in tales the bards and ancients knew
 ‘Till suddenly he stumbles on a glade
All silent where no wild bird wheels or calls
And in the glade there stands a single stone
And on the ground a moon dark shadow falls
And there, within the shadow’s light he sees
That which before him other men have found
A stairway leading down in to the earth
A dark descending path in to the ground
No way but down now, this the only way
He gathers one last breath, and full of fear
Goes down the old and foot worn ancient steps
That lead towards the portal of the year
How dark the endless steps of winter’s stair
That shadow down, down to the Solstice door
To where, beneath the door a chink of light
Hints soft and bright across the cold stone floor
He sits upon the bottom step to rest 
Reflect, and contemplate the year behind
And lo, she comes, bedecked in leaves and fruit
And dancing, dancing, through his weary mind
Forget me not, she sings; I am still here
I wait for you, for life to shift and stir
And through the keyhole and the chink there blows
A fragrant waft of birch and silver fir
Reviving, blessing, soft upon his face
The promise of new life upon her breath
Touched by her grace he weeps upon the step
For she has saved him with her love from death
Another year dies, another lives
He sits and waits; she watches from afar
And as he waits the light in darkness shifts
And creaks the ancient Solstice Door ajar…

by Gail


 





Copyright © Gail Foster | Year Posted 2015


Details | Iambic Pentameter Poem | |

An Ancient Oak

An oak tree stood beside a narrow stream
All bent and twisted like an agéd man
So gently flowed the stream through ancient roots
While laughing with the innocence of youth

In summertime the children came to play
Within the cooling water of the stream
Or rest beneath the gnarled oak tree's limbs
Spread, father-like, to shade them from the sun

In autumntime, when gusts and breezes blow
The leaves would float like dancers through the air
First here, then there, they softly tripped, until
They lit at last to grace the frozen ground

In wintertime, the sprightly youths would skate
Along the crystal surface of the stream
Above, the windswept branches firmly stood
Like blacksmiths' limbs are hardened from the forge 

In springtime burst the oak leaves forth anew
As kingly robes they grace the ancient tree
Inside its keep the squirrels and thrushes chirp
Secure from danger's threat and free from care

Time sped, its unrelenting chimes yet tolled
The youths that loved its shade have passed away
Yet still he laughs and seems to mock at time
He stands as stout and tall as ages past

But time, its current flows at even pace
And now the oak is bent with cruel decay
Though doubled at the back like aging man
He stands there yet, a monument of strength


~ Written for "Personification" Contest. Second Place.

Copyright © Isaiah Zerbst | Year Posted 2012