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Best Jiril Clemons Poems

Below are the all-time best Jiril Clemons poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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Details | Jiril Clemons 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 | Jiril Clemons Poem

IQ Test

I could care less about the four 
corners of insults, 
That intelligence invites; 
It is always the first straw of 
grass that’s grows, 
which reveals the popular outcast; 
As a youth, I found my image cut down 
into this manufactured silhouette.

Drenched in social rain, my peers 
had never found me more alienated, 
Then when I spoke fluently of diverse 
topics; 
They did everything in their power to provide 
a verbal umbrella, 
However, the texture remains weak and 
defeated.

This stormy parade that remains’ dripping is
indeed an afterthought, 
For within this cranial mansion resides 
additional rooms, 
For the more abstract and surreal 
elements of life; 
It is that secluded gland which reveals 
the renaissance of men, who wear 
infinite Fedoras.

Now wearing the shoes of a young 
man, 
A taste of charisma resides in my 
veins; 
However this slight addiction to external 
haze, 
Comes in second to my first drug of 
choice: Wisdom. 

Membership into this fraternity may take a lifetime; 
So don’t be surprised when resistance 
knocks at your door, 
Intimidated by the lion that dwells within 
your temple; 
Indeed intellect is the misunderstood 
fruit, 
That blossoms sweeter when accepted.


Details | Jiril Clemons Poem

HER

“H” represents the humility she 
displayed from the moment she 
opened her eyes; 
“E” would suggest a revision of 
evolution, 
Because it would take many stories and 
infinite lifetimes to explain the beauty 
of her essence; 
And “R” would ask for a human replica 
of her, 
For many men should admire such as I 
do. 


Modern Shakespeare’s should pay
close attention, 
For her personality writes poetry 
itself, 
And yet the pen remains in my 
hand, 
To describe beauty in third person. 


My cold and nonchalant heart has never 
asked for another summer to warm up too, 
Unless purposeful reasons for an appeal of the 
heart were discovered, 
And yes! 
These reasons always spelt out 
her name. 


As in life which contains both success 
and failure, 
I’ll risk it all, in hope’s for mutual 
affection; 
I’d serenade time if it meant I could 
spend more in her serenity; 
Forget the ridicule and episodes of embarrassment, 
The only thing on television tonight is the 
heartfelt expression of a peacock, 
Waiting to display his romantic feathers to the 
archetype woman; 
Today and forever; 
I’ll dedicate to her. 


Details | Jiril Clemons 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 | Jiril Clemons Poem

Temporary Pleasure

What good is a sip of heaven, 
If one can never taste its eternal 
heartbeat?
Of those men who admire the bark, 
Only handfuls flirt with her virtuous 
bite;
But ever since the sound of destiny 
became familiar, 
I’ve been her subconscious audience, 
And remain curious of how musical this 
rapture truly is.

Maybe it was the eloquent cure she gave 
for my cause, 
A contagious laugh for the healthy sinner;
Perhaps the substitute of starry nights who 
borrow her glow, 
Or could it be the angel eyes that tear away 
doubt in blind hearts?
Her complex salt that hungers for life’s non-progressive
slug?
Indeed, every star aligned in the presence of 
truth. 

Despite these moments of substance,
On occasion, I still visit her skin 
deep illusion;
And although impressed by her elaborate 
cover, 
It was never substituted as my distraction; 

I continued to peel away at her trivial 
flesh; 
And with nature as a truthful witness, 
The full moon imitated our merging
form,
Sculpting God’s gift of completion. 

I discovered how persistent gravity could 
be, 
As it crept over my shoulder, 
And melted away empty veins; 
Familiar as the blood that sprints from my 
heart, 
Its where every internal character defeats the 
physical perception. 








Details | Jiril Clemons Poem

How I Met Your Mother

Kids,
I once vacationed in the company of silence,
It was an unconscious scene bestowed upon
me;
Although I had a calling that answered my 
purpose, 
A myth of joy existed outside this career, 
I was left drowning in limbo, without an 
excuse; 
But there was a witness, who studied my trail 
without cause, 
And without apprehension, she helped to resurrect the 
the location of destiny; 
Allow me to reminisce on such. 

For it was in a previous portrait, that I encountered 
a dozen roses; 
Of these that I held, there were none that exceeded 
a brief touch,
A momentary scent that never returns; 
Now understand with this expression, it is not a
boast I intend to create, 
For I was seeking that gentle grip, in hopes of it never 
departing;
I continued a cold failure, never realizing the warmth of 
victory that smiled ahead. 

I settled on the peak of solitude, as my faith passed
away in obscurity, 
And yet, beyond these frozen eyes, there existed a 
narration of fate, waiting for my company; 
For you see kids, I’ve walked past the casual frame 
of your mother, 
And misplaced my sight, I’ve missed her spirit by 
petty inches, 
And when there was a vision of opportunity, my space
was occupied with trivial games. 

Then one day, I discovered a possession that linked 
heaven and earth forever, 
An umbrella your mother left abandoned; 
And yet, it was through her innocent misfortune, 
That I discovered her abstract songs, played upon
by the perfect key, 
Her heart that sits in prosperity, from the charity of 
deeds, 
A collection of beauty, your mother gracefully 
owns; 
By the time we crossed into cupid’s lair, I knew 
already, the verses of duality were written true, 
And with that, the perfect stranger discarded her 
title, 
Leading Renee into popularity; 
Hello became the endless quote, we spoiled into 
memory. 

As the task of life left this page briefly open, 
I responded with a mutual exit, confirming these 
lips of joy, 
And with revelations of challenge forever slayed,  
I peacefully fell, forever breathless. 


Details | Jiril Clemons 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 | Jiril Clemons Poem

Lupita's Request

Lupita…forgive me, 
For I would never sin from these 
lips, 
Such words that would spoil the beauty 
of your existence;
But if you requested such a crime, I’d argue 
for remnants of your time, 
And charm you as my fatal audience. 

Of these things I would cite verbally, 
Would be the origin of shape, gifted upon 
your figure, 
Those curves that gave birth to the unpredictable
patterns of life, 
Swaying the adoration of midnight flesh, into these
new testaments of woman. 

How simply intoxicating is this craving?
To bear witness to chocolate unspoiled, as it lay 
peacefully naked over maker’s canvas; 
Let it not melt away, before millions can sample its 
sensuous glow. 

Perhaps art can be reborn from such stillness, 
While wasted labels could fade into retirement, 
Convincing the almighty to revise the structure of 
Eve, 
And acknowledge this last miracle…Lupita. 

What else could be molded from this paradise, but a
Queen’s thoughts and motives? 
If there is nothing but truth in this crime, then I’ve painted 
the solitude of heaven, perfectly. 


Details | Jiril Clemons Poem

As Time Went By - So Did We

Seconds:
If there was a second I didn't think about you
God himself would have to point it out
Because this sample of heaven is 24/7
As the minutes tick on since you been gone
I sit and think on all the things I did wrong 
Every second I ask myself two things: why and where
why didn't I realize what I had harmed
and where for the club, I was there instead of with you in my arms

Minutes:
For every minute I spent with you I remembered
like when we first met in September
The minutes that we slow danced together
Are energies collided and warmed my heart despite the cold weather
Every minute with you I was on cloud nine
There was no question, I was yours and you were mine
It was through those minutes, sixty-seconds was expanded
With you it gave the affection I had so long demanded

Hours:
I will dedicate the hours to what is present
For it is through the hours of thinking that I learned my lesson
The hours since we've been apart
They have pushed and pulled on my heart
Through the hours I remember what once was
How this simple lust could have been love
For every hour, my lips mouth the four syllables of your name
Even if time froze, I would still do the same
Money can't compare to what love can bring in a lifetime
Who wants to be a millionaire?
I was once one, but I didn't need three lifelines
All I needed was you to see me through
My rough days and longest nights
With you, darkness came to the light

In conclusion, to every second, minute, and hour I write to, Know that I still think of you.


Details | Jiril Clemons Poem

Every Seed Grows

In this field of plantation; 
Where I walk and plant various 
parts of myself around this 
world; 
I sometimes look back and notice 
the trail; 
I recognize the lettuce of charity
I’ve grown constantly through the 
years, 
the tomatoes of kindness which 
resonates red to the world, 
For as the blood flows within my 
temple, 
Kindness will always be found 
here; 
Also my celery of respect remains 
long, 
And continues growing as much as I 
do; 
And yet for all these positive elements 
I’ve learned to express to my 
environment; 
Occasionally I plant a bad seed which 
poison’s the essence of my entire
being; 
And for that, I apologize. 

Although a perfectionist in small doses I 
am not perfect, 
And as a result my garden of Eden
contains more infamous fruit then I 
would want, 
Stemming from lack of growth in my 
maturity plant; 
While a few of any negative offspring 
have cultivated, 
None have been more consistent in growth 
than my deception seed.

Unfortunately as I’ve grown into 
adulthood, 
So has my subconscious lying, 
Sadly after a while you don’t even 
realize that it still sleeps in your 
field, 
And as a human constantly harvesting 
you learn to accept it; 
However evolution never grows 
old, 
And even a perfect saint contains a 
lifetime of imperfect downfalls, 
So while I’m familiar with deception, 
It is those virtuous seeds that grow 
within me, 
That are parallel with my height 
and with that, I’m content.  

God never asked for our field to be 
perfect, 
But to show progression, 
So that it could display many of lives 
lessons, 
And as my life continues adding up, 
I can promise the world that my 
dark seeds subtract simultaneously; 
But yet I understand we’re all human, 
And we must reap what we 
sow, 
Therefore I’m hoping that my seeds of 
empowerment in the form of black eyed 
peas, fall into my neighbors field, 
Thereby enriching their lives for yet another 
season. 


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