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Best Imagery Poems

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

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Details | Imagery Poem |

88 Keys

The first 22 were her passion, 
A gift she composed from inside her
spirit,
A slave I was blessed to be, in this 
rare trance;
Rose petals gathered at her feet, 
Every key touched by her harmony 
and grace; 
With wings unraveling before me,
We truly began. 

Another 22, awoke her strings of
vibration;
Lies were shunned away as a 
result,  
A simple blessing, for this unheard 
beauty; 
I assumed it was esoteric, 
This instrument of nature that she 
was, 
But truth invented the perfect key, and allowed
my entrance. 

I witnessed that unfulfilled chord, time 
stole away, 
And remained in awe of its everlasting 
memory; 
Her fingers were swift with every sharp
response, 
As she ascended higher to abstract 
freedom; 
God remained the mockingbird locked on
her shoulder, 
While honesty left her glow perfect. 

Vulnerability was her next selection, 
It was a gravitational melody that persuaded 
rawness from her soul; 
It gave me a purpose to hear from 
within, 
Her misunderstood weakness at low 
frequency; 
I witnessed those 22 tearful sounds, 
And was honored by the vision. 

As the curtains fall, and the keyboard 
began to fade, 
We kissed away the final 22, 
A plethora of noises too flat to 
entertain; 
It was then, she envisioned an encore, 
Thus became the purest sound a man could 
ever experience. 


Details | Imagery Poem |

An Imagery Of You

It’s like you’re
in a game of
love, a game I
can’t take part

I’d play the
role of Robin Hood
trying to steal
your heart

The game
you’re in it had
you trapped within 
its dungeon cell 

A barren
place, with
many guards
I rode into this hell

I aimed my
arrows at the
guards striking
them with force

Then grabbed you
in the nick of
time and rode off
on my horse

We rode
all night, made
our escape and
got back safe and
sound

A ceremony
then ensued
which brought
out all the town

At the coronation
happened what I
always dreamed

I became the
king of all the
land and You
became my queen

After all is
said and done
we’d sit side
by side

And rule 
forever King 
and Queen
together you 
and I

Written in Queens, New York -Circa 1994 (Revised in Texas 2012)


Details | Imagery Poem |

Gentle Spirit

You came when I needed an etheric friend,
though I never knew you in life.

An angelic guardian I see in dreams.
You died just before I was born yet,
it feels like we've spent a lifetime together.

Protectorate, eternal spirit, arriving when needed;
an infinite connection.

Cartoonist that you are;
in childhood, I knew you as a giant panda bear,
my invisible playmate after grandma died.

You understood just what my
child-mind needed to heal.

Others only labeled me a,
“weird child”. 
You inspired me and gave me hope.

To you I attribute my imagination and creativity;
from you I inherited my love of the arts.

Now, astral visits give birth to fresh ideas.
Being an adult should never be boring, 
grownup or set stagnant.

If “faith is believing”, then I am rich.
I believe in spirit and soul.

Yes, you came when I needed a friend
and now I believe I can truly be me;
without the condemnation and judgments of others.

You came and you gave me…
back to me.


Details | Imagery Poem |

Tomorrow's Signature

Yesterday sent its regards in a farewell
letter, 
A gesture of fate intact, sealed for the 
departed,
Or better yet, the progressive harmonies
of God, such as we are. 

It was perhaps the plot of the universe, 
When we slept in yesterday’s hands, 
And I asked you the question of 
continuation, 
In hopes of fading away mutually, after one
last bloom. 

Heaven must have spied on my everlasting 
request, 
Because with your pearl vision directed 
towards me, 
And your soft veil of ebony near me, 
You agreed, with no hold of hesitation. 

So under the chapel’s protection is where 
we coast now, 
And a road less traveled is scattered with 
our footprints;
While I did lead with company, along this aisle 
of anticipation, 
The stares of 1000 miles did not present themselves, 
Until your walk was introduced, thereby polishing 
this floor into glory. 

As I stood in the patience of joy, a distance was 
illustrated between us, 
You pressed forward and this negative space lost
its existence; 
As you approached with the tranquil touch of 
summer, 
My nerves fell sober, and I knew that which was 
parallel before me was art, 
The speechless beauty, I favored in sight. 

The preacher spoke a traditional verse, as our 
eyes locked in perfect reflection; 
Declared through spoken word, was the 
confirmation of our ribbon in the sky, 
Crowned upon your precious finger was the 
weight of symbolism, 
Silently glowing through the everglades; 
With no restriction, we explored the middle 
ground in unison.

We exited through the heart of the sun, cherishing
the unfamiliar heat; 
It appears that life’s divine notary has signed off 
on the greatest equation ever solved, 
May our souls forever write in this blessed ink.  


Details | Imagery Poem |

The Art of Attraction

I heard it said once
That attractive to an artist
Does not mean "pretty"
In the average sense
But more something that
Is interesting to look at
And makes you want to 
Keep looking

To him, I can look for hours
And want to keep looking

He is the color burnt umber
Like coffee and cream
And purest black ink
Not blue-black, or brown,
But the undiluted purity
Of a spilled ink-pot
Shaped by the delicate curve
Of a calligraphy brush
Into perfectly, haphazardly
Beautiful curls, erratic and
Bold

And his eyes
Those eyes
Like coffee, taken
Without cream or sugar
But turned amber by sunlight
And sweetened by laughter
Making what might have been
Intimidating, with their darkly
Charcoaled outline that 
Marks them as Arab
Instead as sweetly inviting
As the warm half-light of dusk
And so addictive

I've been looking for hours
And I want to keep looking






Details | Imagery Poem |

Starving

It's been way too long since I have eaten
My cupboards all are barren 
I have been searching for some nourishment
To satisfy my needs

I have been hunting for a Georgia peach
To help and soothe my pain
I have been seeking for that perfect doe
To get me through the storm

I heard that there is some really good food
In the valley of the sun
I will go out there and call out her name
Hoping she fills me up





Details | Imagery Poem |

Your Favorite Bookmark

He escorted the memory from your
eyes,
And became the obsessive verse that
never heals; 
From this graceful theft, you gained an
entrance into his covert passion, 
And as his pages slipped closer into favored
time, 
You became the addict of inquiry, craving for 
chapters that seek indulgence; 
Although his name never fell into your possession, 
This anonymous pen did carry a motive, one that 
would be revealed before the exit of his coverings. 

With the plot serenading through your fingers, 
These words became your last companion, 
And the gift of literary conflict became your 
elevated quotes;
As the subject of fantasy speaks beyond this still
ink, 
You find yourself tempted into characters never 
visited before, 
And his story welcomes your lust with intimacy; 
It’s a climax forever figurative. 

It was perhaps the emptiness of his pen that caused 
this romantic end, 
For this naive setting that you’ve traveled, has never 
been more alluring; 
For when you were seeking the architect’s hand,
It was I, who you charmed, your other half in 
ghostly portrayal; 
So whenever you yearn for poetic substance, I’ll be 
near, 
Absent of monetary hustles, holding heaven’s proximity 
at my will; 
As our narrative grows into an elderly sequel, there’s an 
ink from which I write, 
That won’t cease, from compelling your bias glow. 


Details | Imagery Poem |

The Scrapbook that I can't throw away

Still frames with dead eyed memories.
Magic marker’d promises;
open ended lies
that I can’t seem to forget.
No matter how far I bury this thing
inside my closet. You always find your 
way back, with a smile blooming
like a drunken rose. 
Fingers run to the edge
of our little world’s grave yard;
flipping the nights over..
Trying to find the picture;
 a moment that will sate 
the hunger of regret.
But I haven’t found it yet..
-James Kelley 2013 All rights reserved


Details | Imagery Poem |

THE GRAVEYARD OF SHIPS

Beneath the fathom’s deep, in wreckage’s graveyard
Of the forgotten, here the broken bones of ships lie still,
Covered in a forest of seaweeds greenery.
Corrosion steel hauls ripped wide open, lay against ancient
Wooden beams from vessels voyages, of long ages distant past.
Faded names, render no clues reference, for the maritime detective.
But tragedies lost vessels, did ride upon the frothy foam, 
And spray above, sailing the big blues timeless tides.
Nay Poseidon's toll ti’s payed in sailors flesh, melting
Humanities dreams beneath his drowning waves.
Beauties fare, and proud are they, the crippled, 
Swallowed whole by the aquatic storms avenging rage.
Mercy's mere-angels weep thus, for the mortal souls lost,
Guiding them towards their spiritual resting place below,
And welcoming them unto their fathers kingdom beneath,
The abysses darkening depths.
Torn asunder is mankind's well hued craft, shattered
Into bits pieces, large to small, a glittering shards
Rain of destruction. crashing into the muddy bottom,
Of the under belly of the sea itself.
Deaf are the silent cry's of men, whom leave only
Bubbles streaming upwards, as their last epitaphs
Tribute for thy existence.
The devil's gardens, swim these black waters,
Turning them crimson red, sharp toothed monsters,
Feasting upon carrion discarded left overs.
Dark figures, phantom creatures, lurking just below,
The briny surface, awaiting for the Poseidon’s next victim,
To join the graveyard of ships.
Faded are their names, forgotten titles, as the paint
Peels, on the once majestic vessels.
Now they remain wreckage’s ruins, abandon to the
Mercy of erosion masterful hand of destruction.
Hear the sounding clanging of bells, whom ring in
Silences of troubled waters abode, it is the cracking 
Of doom, beware thy young lad, he whom seeks fortunes
Favor abroad, for only fools test the might of the sea,
Against thy own grit and survive.
Thus thee shed a tear for the fallen, dear lad, 
For no other will on the dead’s behalf, in thine
Cemetery of the graveyard of ships. no passages
Return tickets are given.

BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
SPIRITUAL-HISTORICAL
02-03-2914






  


Details | Imagery Poem |

Woman's Mirror Reflection

With your light so might, I see her sight
transforms an untamed lady into a woman uptight, 
Curves you portray in aura so bright
reflects her inner soul's desires she holds long so tight.

Towel went off the floor, water leaves a gleam
on skin that radiates like in shimmering pearl cream; 
Scrutinizing details so womanly it seems
found herself in a sizzling dream! 

She closed her eyes, bite her lip
All glory of visions come rushing deep; 
She saw your vision standing near
Watching her intently, you look so dear.

Opening her eyes, she stare on her sight
found herself blushing and breathing so fast; 
Her lips went red at the bite she did
her eyes dazzled, as if she want the deed! 

The music is on, jazz is playing softly on air
her eyes glued on the reflection of her pair; 
Wondering the touch your hands may lay
caressing her in total foreplay...

She gasped at the thought, she smelled your breath, 
tasted your tongue as your hands caress; 
Her body arched, feeling you beneath
oh, she knows inhibitions in her; now, she cared less! 

With this mirror reflections, she knows enough
that from that moment she discovered as such; 
She is a woman even how tough she was
Wanting you badly to be with her at last! 

Mirror, mirror on the wall
when will be the time she will have her fall, 
A fall with her man in unending bliss
Sharing same mirror, doing their perfect kiss? 


Inner Whispers


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