Best Accented Poems

For Linda, Freddie, Chan, & others that meant something true to us…

Another departure…

Another wistful teardrop
Embracing yesterday’s candid goodbye

No longer can we touch their physical soul. 

But, we
Can keep amnesia’s accented clef at bay

Holding their voice beyond new tomorrows

…

It is the triangle of life’s conundrum
When we...

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She like a fresh dew bestows nourishment

to the graceful morning dove

in a luscious meadow filled with

tall fluorescent green grasses and

 yellow, blue, and white wildflowers, 

quenches all my worldly thirsts.

She like the pure white swan which

swims majestically on 

a sea of gold reflecting

the powerful rays...

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A pre-lit Christmas tree sparkles the entrance 

Monet, Van Gough, and Wassily Kandinsky prints 

adorn the walls of her sitting room

a dozen painted roses sit in a faux crystal vase

and the smell of apple pie lingers in the air 

coming from her Scentsy candle warmer

resting...

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Picked out the perfect arrangement
 
two dozen long stemmed roses
 
with deep ruby red petals
 
accented with forget-me-nots 
 
each petal representing a kiss
 
I'll tread over those
 
 luscious and inviting lips
 
and the forget-me-nots showing
 
my never ending love for you.
 
Reservations made.
...

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We came not for conquest,
but for containment—
though conquest is what happens
when containment itches beneath the skin
like sulfur spores in a sealed lung.

They had the secret.
Not gold, not weapons, not prophecy—
but language that healed.
Real language—
not poetry, not prayer,
but syntax of cells.

Their infants spoke in codons.
Their trees...

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Monet's Impression, Sunrise

First impressions leave memories
That can linger for a very long time;
And give a sense of peace and understanding,
That rewards the solitude of the mind
With satisfaction, in contemplative reflection.
This may be deceiving and can mislead one to believe
That which is right may, in fact,...

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He walked amid the woodlands muted morn.
The scents of earth were wafting on the breeze.
For dawn had moistened yet another day.
And silence dripped beneath the autumn trees.

A rustle in dry leaves, he caught a glimpse.
His gun caressed the warmth of flannel sleeves.
The silent hunter, stalking,...

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Today I’d like to talk to you about how meter plays a part in
how we write a poem and sometimes in how we speak

The above lines, which are not at all poetic, are written in a specific 
rhythm, or meter. Go back and read them...

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Seductive tones filter the slumbered night
swashes of seda fill up an accented view
swirls of honeysuckle flicker in the breeze
and again the beauty of you is inhaled

Strip down low to the bare essentials
drench your soul in the waters of me
embrace fully in the arms of self...

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worn glossy finish
corners and edges scathed and torn
layers of dust collected from the years
keys played down and worn
faint scent of old cigars
accented with a hint of alcohol
a beautiful melody slightly off tune
vocal chords of an angel
melodies unmatched even through the ages...

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Smile on her face makes me free
Like I can fly beyond my own destiny
Her eyes shine with surreal majesty
To essence of her soul they are the key

When her crimson lips give a kiss
My heart burns with sublime bliss
Her voice like bird song that old ballad...

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The sun receded quietly on a relaxing siesta, as 
Calm clouds of the mid-afternoon smiled henced,
The beat of the drums provideth dancing rhythm
As she moved in pure elegance with harmony, to
A style of danced buoyantly bouncing in melody.

Crafted beadworks accented her warmth charm,
Under her delicately...

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And she told him that she would love him
like no other woman ever will.

The accented sensuality to complete his sentences,
was her proclamation.

The Egyptian cotton blanketing her natural breasts,
sliding up his arms
as she wakes him for morning consummation;
epicenter consumption.

She told him that she craves him
beyond physical...

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I've cried the tears ...
I've suffered the years ...
I've tasted the fears ...
Of a spaceman hurtling through the void
Loneliness grows daily on the inside,
as I continue this autopilot ride
to the other side of the sun
This tritainium space ship moves swiftly
towards our sun's nearest relative
Alpha Centauri...

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My father gone these forty years,
my mother gone twenty, I remember...
the acrid smell of tobacco on my mother’s rough fingers,
as she sat, silently, in a predawn Texas coastal town,
my head in her lap, the short-wave radio crackling with static.
She strained to hear the chatter of...

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