Written in The Stars
Two hearts bleached by the sun
A poem's - fallen wish
Of A Life Time
Majestic beams fall from heavens medow
Two hearts sewn by the constellation
Under the moons glow
You and I
Staring up into the Starry Sky
Tonight we sit under the dazzling diamond dust
Our eyes feel and meet tonight
Stars twinkle a poem of each paired heart
Listen................... The God's Whisper!
What Is Love?
A wish so gentle by the stars
Greeting young couples heart
Poor but, in love
Mockeries of old shadow
Light embracing this Auspicious moment
Intrigued by a sad lovers tale
Two souls forever rich-
Sharing eternity through celestial bliss
Gravitating in a world owned by the stars
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
Taking notes of every rhyme, every heartbeat
Stars fall every eve entering the atmosphere
Seeping through the soul making love a part of light
Illusion of permanence
Fireflies Flaring up
A love that lives last longer than moments
Zodiac unfolds the lines
The stars tell you, who you are
Gaze upon the infinity
Follow the Northern star
Beneath your peaceful splendor
They will bow
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,
For some where out there
I read about YOU in a poem.
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
Climbing over my soul
The darken deepens
The stars dim my view
Land becomes an enemy
The Dark Knight-tress
Scolding my next victim
The mischievous Sandman runs a con game each night
After all the youngsters are safely tucked away
He dances into my room like an elfin sprite
He seizes my hand, tries to lure me outside to play
Then he’s bored on my shoulder at the computer
Threatens to throw pixie dust into sleepy eyes
Quells my muse like a discourteous intruder
I’ve attempted to handle him with a compromise
Just let my muse roam free for a couple of hours
For at this time of night, fantasies flow smoothly
But he feels the need to boast of superpowers
And when I ask for time, he glares gloomily
It’s three in the morning and I should be asleep
This nightly visitor has grown to be a pest
Distaste continues to grow for this pesky creep
And the sandman scowls when I say, “Give it a rest!”
*Entry for Deb’s Fantasy Land Contest
April 29, 2011
My melancholy turns to gold dust
in your soft and tender hands
upon your fingers I scatter my life
my love remains clasped in your hands
now I am a vial of cologne, emptied...
I yearn to see your lissome creeper
how it clings to cracks on the walk
well, just as it entwines the cement altar
Mi amor, that is how I yearn to embrace your heart
I used to stumble, now I am sustained in you...
This night I yearn and sigh for you
to see you sleep, hands on your chest
sinking into our bed like rosy fruit
from smooth pastures into the depths of our mattress
as the air enters your chest and raises it chastely...
Amante, steal away to me in the night
we will see how peacefully the moon rays
create quiet waves without unsettling the hush
just as it passes into the gulf is the way
I yearn to sink to the very bottom of your soul...
Fly to me from your snow white orchards
you love is ever so immaculate
my naked soul will tremble in your hands...
This open letter I share to my dear Soupers,
Especially written for the most special muses I have found.
I dedicate this piece from the depth of my soul.
To most brilliant and exquisite poets here in site.
To Poet Destroyer a.k.a. Linda,
Your poem "Daddy" changed a view in my life.
I'm a tamed little tigress when I first came in site.
So afraid to post a collective words from my mind.
When I read your poem, it suddenly changed my life!
It's a free verse form, taught me that writing isn't that hard.
I can freely spread my wings then reach the sky.
It taught me how to use the ink inside my heart.
I saw the lighter side of you.
A loving heart, a real you.
Some of your slams show off your angst.
In "Daddy's poem", you won The Oscar's.
Linda, in half of a year I spend with you,
I'd like to tell how much I awe you,
You are the star that lit my night.
You are the muse that keeps me write.
To my dearest highness poet, Nette...
I can't still find the right adjective that suits you best.
Your "Kiss from Heaven" moved me away.
It opened my eyes to what a poetry really means.
Your words are extraordinary,unique and passionate.
It invites me to go down deeper, explore the world beneath.
You showed me a different ways to use an ink.
Then lead me to a magical and wondrous place within.
Thank you for being an inspiration,
The wind beneath my wings.
The best poet I look up with.
The one that I respect and treasured as friend.
You two are like fuel to my soul.
You help me keep going inspite of sorrow.
You show me the world behind these walls,
You refill my pen to create a poem.
For Miranda Lambert’s “Inspired” contest
By Carolyn Devonshire
I wanted to write for this contest;
But my muse was staging a protest.
“Take me to the sea,” it pled,
“In this house, I languish, dead;
Put me in touch with nature, a forest.”
“Don’t stare at a screen, confined by walls;
Locked inside, my inspiration falls.
Surely there’s a babbling brook
Or a valley’s overlook.
Give me something to work with,” muse calls.
“If you fail to respond, I’ll attack
As you’re sleeping in a room black.
Thoughts you will never recall
Cannot upon your page fall;
Without me you’re nothing but a hack!”
To be in love with a poet
Is not an easy thing
Try as you might, you’ll never
Live up to his dream
For the poet isn’t content
With love’s status quo
You please and you tease him
But it’s not enough you know
For living there in his mind
Is a picture of the divine
You know that he longs for her
For it's shown in every line
The woman of perfection
Who is not of this world
With raven tresses of hair
And slender arms unfurled
The poet “sees” this woman
And his senses just take leave
For her passion is intense
Her body rivals that of Eve
She is tender and she’s giving
Never asking in return
She waits for him night and day
And it’s for his love she burns
She nurtures his desire
Fulfills his every whim
For she is his possession
Remains faithful just to him
She sees in him embodied
Every single manly trait
Each and every need of his
She’s sure to satiate
Ah…mere mortal woman
Who must compete with this muse
You find that you fall short
And your love’s prone to abuse
For who can dare compare
With a poet’s romantic dream
The siren who sings to him
Who floats on clouds of cream
Poor lover of the poet
Sitting here alone at night
Waiting for him to see you
To turn on you passion’s light
Love him, my sweet, love him
For in the end he’s just a man
That silly muse of his dreams
Can’t caress him, but you can
So win him at this love game
Make the fires really burn
Try to captivate his mind
So that it's for YOU he yearns
Warn that charming seductress
That muse who tries hard to woo
That you have a jealous heart
And you've made him drink your brew
Your body, your soul, your desires
Bathe him in all of these
Not with words but your hands
Make him to do just what you please
For a poet is just a man
Just a simple man is he
Give him all he desires
Then watch his love set you free!
Eileen Manassian Ghali
Standing in my home’s backyard, I gazed at the skies
Nothing comes to my muse’s sight but two staring eyes
It swapped the branches of a tree by a daredevil jump
Whirling, twirling, passing in the air getting the hump.
Through the summer on the tall tree bare and brown
See how brown leaves are flickering, fluttering down
This squirrel, my poetry, bobbing from eyes so bright
Busy now hunting for nuts to hoard with all her might
In an old nest of crow or in a hole where day by day
Nut by nut for her winter stock explores stores away
So that when winter sets in with its cold and storm
She would sleep all curled up, all snug and all warm.
She looks again and to make sure after storing there
So she could remember, she hid the treasure where.
Dr. Ram Mehta
Contest: make me feel you
My own piece of heaven, a quiet little nook,
With only the finest parchment in a leather book,
A feather quill pen and an ocean of ink,
My thoughts would never stop to think,
Every single line I write would rhyme,
My poetry would be beautiful and sublime,
I'd be entertained daily, by Dr. Seuss,
And, put to sleep nightly, by Mother Goose,
Lessons from Byron, Shelley, Coleridge and Poe,
Teaching me every single thing that they know.
My own piece of heaven, will have to wait,
Until one day, when I must meet my fate,
So, for now I will have to be content,
With my own words that may be heaven sent,
Inspiration from my idols is all I need,
Writing poetry in a notebook from Mead,
With this cheap, plastic Bic pen,
And a dream to be, just like them.
Ma Dame, I say to you
as it was written hundreds of years ago
by Francois de la Rochefoucauld,
"True love is like ghosts,
which everybody talks about
and few have ever seen."
And now this poem for you
in my own words....
Amoureaux, the fruits of my passion
are yours, and now
how I delight in your arrival
my hallowed woman
you among the gardenias that blossom...
Pour Vous, I would with my last breath
exhale my love for you
on that day may it be bitter cold
so you could see what you mean to me...
Je t'aime, in my mind
where my thoughts are born
in my heart where emotions reside
and in my soul where dreams become...
Je vous vois, under the Spanish Moss
where the throng of song birds burst into rhapsody
filling the echoing evening effervesce
with the elation of their love songs...
Mon amour, if you this night descend into the abyss
of my loneliness, with the touch of your lips
plants in the moonlit garden will burst into bud...
Je le ferai, inhale your perfume in bold enjoyment
as when one turns the pages of a sacred book
breathes the scent of mystic violets...