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Best Eileen Ghali Poems

Below are the all-time best Eileen Ghali poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

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Details | Eileen Ghali Poem

Mirror, Lie to Me

I stare at my mirror
So shocked by what I see
There is a strange woman
Staring right back at me

I must’ve been abducted
This must be a crazy trick
For the reflection that I see
Is making me quite sick

Are those horrid wrinkles?
Is that a double chin?
The neck that was my joy
Is pillar like- not thin!

My eyes have no sparkle
They look listless and glazed
Perhaps it’s hard to focus
When I feel so dazed

Maybe it’s just a dream
From which I will awake
For how could that be me?
I’m sure it’s just a fake

I pinch myself real hard
The mirror woman screams
Oh no, it must be true
Now both of us cry streams

Mirror, you’re a traitor!!!
Mirror, this is a crime!!!
I order you to hide!!!
The tell-tale signs of time!!!

Do me a small favor
Tell me a little lie
Reflect a younger me…
Oh please, give it a try!

Eileen Manassian Ghali


Details | Eileen Ghali Poem

The Paradox of Love

We love those who don’t love us
And we don’t love those who do
We long for the unfaithful
And neglect those who are true

We give to those who have no need
And withhold from those who do
We run after those who run away
And run away from ones who pursue

We flirt with those who are aloof
And are aloof with those who flirt
We treat like gold the worthless
And the worthy we treat like dirt

We die for those who’re indifferent
And are indifferent to those who die
Tis the state of our foolish hearts
Will someone please to tell me why?

He says I am his heart and soul
You’re indifferent to my needs
He vows he’d die without my love
Yet it’s for you my heart bleeds

He claims I’m his oxygen
Carbon dioxide I am to you
His eyes want to eat me up
YOU’RE my honey through and through

My foolish heart has lost its wits
The world has gone crazy too
I love him who loves me not
Tell me, is this true for you?


Details | Eileen Ghali Poem

The Forgotten Gifts

She sat in her little cottage
Her ears tuned
Her body alive
Waiting…
Waiting for that knock on the door
Anytime now
She pulled back the frilly curtains
And peered out at the gathering dusk
The time when most of her visitors
Would knock at her door
Looking for word gifts
To fill up their souls

It was the third day…
It was the third night…
And she kept her vigil
With her candle lit
To ward off the loneliness
That was creeping in on her
She fought it away
Repositioning the candle
To make sure that its light
Would be a welcome sight
To her longed for visitors

Only one thing worried her
What would she offer them as presents?
She had nothing to give
And this was the custom 
In these parts
The tradition
The giving and getting of word presents
That's why she had moved here

She fondly fingered on of the presents
Given to her 
By one of her most cherished visitors
A token of love and friendship
Of constancy
And yet….
Where was he?
Now when she was destitute
Now when she was dry
With no gifts to offer
She had been forgotten by them all
Forgotten by him
She fought back the tears
Willing to believe

The candle flickered and died out
The moonlight
Filtered in through her window
Comforting her with its magical
Dream formations
On her wooden floor
She sighed
She had given all that she had
Did they love her only for her gifts?
Could they not just reopen her gifts and look inside?
If not that…what about the other unopened ones
The older ones
The ones that she had shyly left
Outside their doors
When she had newly moved in
And was yet unknown

Once one of them had opened a gift
The news had spread
That there was someone new in the area
With word gifts to give
Some were crude
But others were beautiful
With her own distinctive design
All wrapped with her love
Each scented by her perfume
Her signature scent

Now she was poor
No gifts
No perfume
No words
Empty....
Why didn't they come to visit?
Why didn't they open the ones of long ago
That still lay around their homes…unopened

She brushed away a tear
Perhaps she’d been forgotten
Perhaps she just wasn’t good enough
For this part of the country
She decided
On the morrow
She would leave
Though it would make her heart bleed
But wait…
A faint knock on the door
A familiar knock
She sprang to her feet
And swung upon the door
There he stood
A smile on his face
“I haven’t seen you for a while
Your gifts used to bring me a smile
Sorry it’s late
I just couldn't wait
To tell you…
I found the unopened gift
It still bore your scent
It reminded me of you
The beauty of your soul
And how you make me whole
Here I am…
Here I am to tell you
I’ve missed your gifts
But more than that…
I’ve missed the giver!”

With tears streaming down
But a smile on her face
She took his hand
And led him inside
The home of her heart
For a nice long sweet visit
With one of her favorite
Giver of gifts!

Eileen Manassian Ghali


Details | Eileen Ghali Poem

Touched by Your Flame

I watched them gather round
The warmth of your flame
Like campers at campfire time
Huddling close to you
Pushing and jostling
For the best place
I saw your warmth
Dancing off their faces
Small cinders escaping into the night
I followed the sparks drifting up
On the chilly breeze
Riding high…disappearing into the stars

I was cold
I was alone
On the edge
And yet…I dared not go near you
Though your light invited me
And I wanted so much to be warmed
By you
Yet….how could I find a place
By those encircling you
Watching the mesmerizing display 
Of your orange and yellow flames
There was no place
Among the gathering of....
The strong, the beautiful, the insistent
So, on the outskirts I stayed
Tears trickling down my cheeks
Cold
Alone…

I waited…I held back
Until they all left
One by one
Some bumping into me
Not even aware that I was alive
I waited until you had almost died out
No longer on display
But a warm glow of embers
Still orange and glowing with desire
And I approached
Shyly…
Longingly…
Needing to see you dance
For me….only for me
And I coaxed you
In my clumsy way
My fingers cold
My heart ablaze

Suddenly....you burst into flame
A pillar of fire
Miracle of love
For I had not added any kindling
But my little heart
And yet it seems you had waited
Knowing I would come
And my slightest touch
Made the flames spring to life
Voracious flames
Flames reaching the high heavens 
Your heat overpowering
Consuming
I almost threw myself into you
Wanting to reach the center
Of the heat and warmth
Of your beauty…

I spent the night
Out under the stars
Lying naked
Yet not cold
Naked
Yet not ashamed
Naked
Yet not shy
For your glow was my covering

I let myself be touched
Time and again
By licking fingers of fire
By the burning flames of your desire
For….ME!

For Gail's Contest
Touched by Your Flame
May 27, 2013


Details | Eileen Ghali Poem

Be on Guard Against Poets

My sweet child
My daughter
Be on guard
Be on guard of the man
Who plays on your heartstrings…
Not with flirtatious smile
Nor with flexed muscles
Not with devouring eyes
Nor with intellectual prowess
Or clothes so fine

No, these you can resist
You can set boundaries
And be done
The threat, false alarms 
Their charm easily undone
Your defenses will withstand
The groping hand
The false charm
No, don't be alarmed

Oh, but child
My precious sweet one
Be on your guard
I beg you
I implore
Be on your guard
From the man named, “POET”
A man who wields words
Who crafts and designs them
Like a carpenter with wood...
Who makes them into jewels
With a jeweler’s touch...
Who makes them sweet delicacies
That simply melt in your mouth

He can shape and design his words
To fit your every need
He writes down your dreams
As though they were his own
His words an homage
To your beauty
Your form
The light in your eyes
The way you entice
Your captivating smile
Your dark tresses
Cherry lips
Or the curve of your hips

BE ON GUARD
Oh, dear one
Be on guard
For he means to take you
To sweep you away
In the tide of beautiful rhymes
The rise of fall of passion
Making your body move in time
He means to ensnare you
To capture your soul
He means to dominate 
To slowly undress
Intoxicate with his words
So you forget common sense
He wants you to eat from his hands
Choice morsels of love
While he whispers in your ear,
“There's more where that came from.”

My child
Be on guard
For words cannot pay
Your rent or expenses
Cannot save your day
Words won’t be there
When you cry in the night
They won’t be able
To turn on that light
Words won’t be your lover
With hands nice and slow
That touch you in places
Words can never go

My child, 
My darling
Listen to me
Stay away from those poets
They’ve got potency
They will woo and bewitch you
Throw fairy dust in your eyes
But at the end of the day
Only a few don’t tell lies

My child, my sweet
Get a man who will be
THERE IN PERSON
BODY and SOUL
With hands that caress
And with eyes that speak
Of your body in that dress
Spoken words make you weak
With lips that touch yours
That say you’re divine
That lick from your navel
That sweetest of wine
Stay away from those poets
Be on Guard
Save your life!
For a poet, my child
Is the greatest danger in life
The greatest beauty
The greatest dream
The greatest heartache
The greatest strife
Be on guard
BE ON GUARD
SAVE YOUR LIFE!

Eileen Manassian Ghali


Details | Eileen Ghali 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


Details | Eileen Ghali Poem

He Touched Me

Do you know what it is like to be an untouchable?
To be so filthy and disgusting
That people shrink away from you
Do you know how it corrodes your soul
To see how the stench that follows your rotting flesh
Contorts people’s faces in disgust
Even from miles away?
I tell you, you die a thousand deaths
Each time you see them cover their faces
To protect themselves from the putrid air
That surrounds you
And they scurry away
Revolted by your very shadow

It doesn’t help that you have to scream
“Unclean, Unclean” everywhere you go
It doesn’t help that daily you have to find your food
Left behind an agreed upon boulder 
It doesn’t help when you taste the bread
Your wife has baked with loving hands
Knowing that the salt of her tears is mixed in the dough
That nourishes your rotting body
It doesn’t help when visions of her beauty and healthy body
Ravage your mind…for she has become untouchable to you
It doesn’t help when all you remember are the last words 
Your crying son sobs into her apron….
“Why does daddy have to leave?” 
And you quietly slink away…unable even to hold him
One last time

Being a leper
Is the nightmare you can’t easily shed
How unlike your body that easily sheds
Your fingers…one by one

And then you hear of a Healer
A Nazarene
A carpenter turned preacher
Who mingles with prostitutes
With tax collectors 
Society’s untouchables
Outcasts like you and you think…
Maybe…just maybe

I tell you this….
All my yesterdays and all my tomorrows
Were bound in the moment I stood before him
His disciples stepped back
I saw a woman get sick
At the sight of me
And before I knew it, the words tumbled out
“Lord, if you are willing…..you can make me clean.”

I was a crumpled ball on the ground
A discarded piece of human waste
Not daring to look up
My half eaten face covered
Thoughts of my wife, my boy swimming in my head
And pouring out of my eyes in the form of tears
And then for the first time since I was banished to the outskirts of the city
For the first time in what seemed like a lifetime
I felt the touch of another human hand 
His hand was on my shoulder
His hand was on MY shoulder
The refuse of humanity
On ME!
Ah…I had forgotten how good it felt to be touched

It was a gentle touch
A touch of love 
A touch of healing
“I am willing, be clean.”
I heard whispered in my ear
The warmth of the touch
The nearness of the voice
Were enough to heal my soul
What more could I ask for?
And yet….I felt something else
New life coursed through my veins
A wave of energy
Started from the souls of my feet
Revitalizing every cell as it rushed up to my dazed head
Bursting into a clarity of vision I had not known
I looked at my hands
Yes, these were MY hands
The hands that she had loved to hold against her face
The hands that my son had clung to when he was afraid
The hands of a workman
Young, strong capable hands

There was silence
As they all witness my rebirth
Finally, I looked up to see
The most compassionate face
That I had ever seen in my life
I saw tears running down His face
And yet, His smile rivaled the sun
And the next thing I knew
I was in His embrace
Whole…body and soul
Whole
All because
He touched me.

Eileen Manassian Ghali


Details | Eileen Ghali Poem

The Written Face of Love

My love for you I carry in my heart
A growing ache, albeit tender, sweet
For from my body you are miles apart
My words like tender kisses sent to greet

Each letter and each thought with love is tied
Poetic lines immersed in passion’s hue
The secrets of your heart in them confide
My messengers of love sent out to you

Dear heart, be sure to read between the lines
At times a message stronger there you’ll find
Wild fantasies encrypted in these signs
My paradise you’ll enter with your mind

Who dares to doubt the written face of love
Has never flown on words to heights above

Eileen Manassian Ghali


Details | Eileen Ghali Poem

Unloved

She cocooned herself
Spinning the thread tightly
Around her troubled mind
Knowing out there
Out there were the people
Who watched her unwind
Who could not be kind
Losing ground
Every day
She fought to stay
Sane
Untouched by pain
She cocooned her mind
Her weak troubled mind
With layer after layer of silken threads
Threads of self defense
From a world
Who only loved to see her dance
And smile
And play the fool
For a while
From a world who couldn’t bear
To see the raw pain that was there
Behind the pretty face
And the bewitching eyes
Were the jagged lies
The mirrors into a soul
Incomplete...not whole

Unloved
Unwanted
She was too much trouble
Complicated
An emotional drain
They comforted the physical pain
Yet feared the mental pain 
They could not understand….

"Sh…….keep it a secret"
She told herself as she spun away
"For now….
Play the game
Play everyone’s game
Give them what they want
Whatever it is
Give it to them
Maybe they will learn to love you
Maybe they will see the beauty
Hiding behind the beast
Waiting for release...

No....you know better
They have no eyes to see
So dance....dance....alone
In the quiet of the room
Where there is no one to pry
Or see you cry
Dance alone
Live alone
Breathe alone
Alone
Alone
Hate the world
Hate them all
They deserve it
Damn every single last one
Whoever walked away
Leaving you cradling your throbbing head
Afraid of their own monsters
They keep you at bay
Vulnerability not their game to play
Damn them all
For not loving you enough
For not being tough enough
Weaklings one and all
EVERY SINGLE LAST ONE
Unable to be strong
To carry you along
When you are weak
Unable to think
Unable to speak
Unable to breathe
Unable to muster the courage to live
Unable
And unloved
Finish what you've begun"…..

She spinned the threads tighter… tighter
The cocoon complete
She fell asleep
Her last thoughts
The bitter knowledge
That she would never awake
Transformed
Knowing this would be her tomb
For she was never meant to be
A butterfly…
A beautiful airy creature of the day
Loved by everyone in every way
She closed her eyes
And slipped away
Unloved....

Eileen Manassian Ghali


Details | Eileen Ghali Poem

Poetry was Her Best Lover- Adult Content

Poetry was her best lover
Like no other
He loved her
Without restraint
She could be herself
And explore
And discover
Secret pleasures and fantasies
Naked above the covers
He let her lie
Exposed
As he slowly caressed her imagination
Making her flow
With the sweet essence of her soul
In waves of delirium
Flying free
He let her be
Unfettered
Unashamed
Unworried of how to please
Or how to tease
Just simply to be
A woman in a prelude
To ecstacy

Poetry was her best lover
Her escape from reality
In clandestine intimacy
He ravished her mind
Again and again
For all he wanted
Was for her to come
To experience
To taste
Every pleasure
He had to offer
Her insatiable appetite
He fed
With firm truths
That burst forth with wisdom
He fed her desire
To reach supremacy
He never betrayed
Or delayed
In pleasing her
In giving her just what she wanted
In different ways and forms
His creativity endless

Poetry was her best lover
The only time in her day
When she had her way
And could be free
To be the woman she was mean to be
Sensual and sultry, sexy and savory 
Not having to hide
Behind the guise
The veil of culture
Or religion
Or misconstrued sexism
Or alibis
Being demure
And “sterile”
When she was fertile
Laden with passion


Poetry was her best lover
He adored her
For whom she was
And he gave and gave 
At times
Leading her in submission to his will
Taming her
Training her
To live in the confines
Of his rules
For perfection to be reached
She had to follow his lead
To the pinnacle of pleasure
Where all was in rhythmic union and rhyme
The sublime
Tasted and lived and then to descend
To warm after glow
Basking in the satisfaction
Of a fruitful union
For beauty has been conceived 
Waiting for delivery

Yes, Poetry was her best lover
And she
Came looking for him
Begging him 
To take her 
Again and again and again
To transport her to heaven from hell
Tasting eternity

Poetry was her best lover
And she
Had no need of another
To help her discover
Her own entity….
None other
But her best lover
Poetry....


Eileen Manassian Ghali


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