Best Admirably Poems


Premium Member The Cigarette

Empty pack - no cigarettes,
but another pack has one.
Should she smoke it now?
Cigarette stained fingers
stroked the tube.

She teased her mouth with it,
unlit, but lighter reachable,
calming her a bit...
How rare is it to tease
oneself like this?

Five minutes, and resolve
dispersed. The flame flickered
admirably.  (She saw it.)
Cigarette went gently to her mouth
and she drew breath.

Her nicotine heart thanked her once again.





8/28/2016
© Julia Ward  Create an image from this poem.

Yonce

There is freedom in her beauty.  A confidence that comforts me deep in my soul.  I am in awe.  Purely.  She may as well be flying, I cannot take my eyes from her wings that spread wide as the sky.  Her song is deep and disciplined; at her command.  The places in my gut that ache she shares and makes words where there were none.  It's as if we've known each other before.  Pieces of our souls belong to one another.  So extraordinary but reachable through the humanity in her eyes.  A sadness a deepness that resonates with me.  It is within me.  Sadness within the womb of woman, scars on the heart always leave behind more than ruined tissue.  She gets that.  She gets me.  A superstar, the world cannot take their eyes off her.  She is a flame, the view of the ground from the roof.  Inarguably gorgeous, striking whether in her bare feet or the latest fashion.  Her sexy is audacious, admirably we watch, when it's over we are inspired to be sexier.  With a flip of big hair she becomes demure without parting with her sexiness.  She is what woman is.  So feminine while so in charge.  The stage rumbles underneath her feet.  She smiles into the crowd.   A smile that the millions of dollars of lights behind her cannot compete with. 
A smile that speaks
Saying... there is no place she eos rather be. 
Her love of melody of sing of the release that comes with belting out your feelings becomes my love.   We are strangers but in a heavenly moment we become one. 
Sisters of the soul.   Girlfriends.   Her greatest gift to me is her strength.
© Zen Reed  Create an image from this poem.

Sifting the Currents

No one scoops up the vast subtleties
Of my mind's water
Quite like the hands that adore me most 
There are no holes,
No overflows, nor spills
This soul does not filter away the essence,
Does not pluck the bloom before it has shown its worth,
Nor does his powerful hands have a heart to ever remove it
From its marshy field of poetic influence

But when it rots,
He simply refuses to discard
And instead regards pollution with avid wonder
For he knows with a nod I have it in myself to teach
And I have it in myself to heal these inner hells

So when these waters flow freely again
In search of new blooms and clear horizons,
I will find his precious hands sifting, provoking the currents
Admirably never losing sight of our love's purpose


Premium Member Blue

Raspberry bonbon confectionery,
Lavender fields, spicy infusions
Neon lights, trailing ivy shimmer,
Eerie azure moon, stately silhouettes

Katoomba's eucalyptus gardens
Aqua paint swirls, funky abstract art
Freshly cut roses, Prussian royal
Spider veins, mimic skeleton leaves

Maldives sandstorm, sapphire jewels
Inherited, European eyes
Topaz rich, diamante gem skies
Working man's blues, American roots

Cerulean butterfly, flutters
Reticent, admirably, beneath
The ozone layers, 
Vast deep blue hole

Leading a Happy Life Via Reading

Reading alone gets wit and wisdom,
Wide reading increases knowledge,
We can learn a lot by that process,
That only paves the way for growth.

We must make a note of all the books
That World calls as a treasure to hold
And we must acquire them shrewdly
And widen our knowledge brilliantly

As one grows, reading gets narrowed
For innumerable reasons to quote
Main is poor eyesight that blocks
One's reading power immensely

One easiest way to grasp the essence
Is by reading the quotes of great men,
Their distilled wisdom when is learned,
Our wit reaches its pinnacle admirably

Quotes are made with greatest thought
To tell the longest story in few words,
The time taken to read them is less,
We can read at any time, anywhere!

Reading a large number of super quotes
Rinses brain in the ocean of philosophy,
We become great masters of thinking,
Our words contain the best ideas easily

When one grows aged, strain is more,
Especially the eyes lose their power,
Endurance is also seriously affected,
Under such a condition, quotes help

Brief quotes easily remove one's grief,
They stun the World by their simplicity,
By mastering them, we reign supreme,
Our mind is filled with enormous wit

So, reading big books is no doubt fine,
If we have the power and proper mindset,
But, reading quotes will bring huge rewards,
Just twenty of them will elevate our thoughts

Reading habit must be ever continued,
We must constantly develop our brain,
We must equip it for doing useful acts,
Reading is the basis for any great feat!

A Man of Integrity

Today, the local daily papers highlighted a man of honour...
Deserving of his honorific title Datuk bestowed on men of honour...

Given his loud and strident calls for those holding the reins of power....
To better buck up in all matters of governance,  to honour pledges while in power..

From relative obscurity, this quiet man has been religiously executing his duties...
As a number 2 man in the high office called the Special Branch, overseeing matters of security...

Given that his beloved nation now staggers under a yoke of suspicion and bad governance....
He is steadfast in his intergrity pledge of topmost quality service to the king and nation...

Loud is his urgings for civil servants to uphold pledges of intergrity and loyalty...
It is obvious his strong conviction is born out of a man of the highest principles...

Befitting the post of the Special Branch deputy director....
Today's interview in The Star provides an insight into his character...

Clearly it shows he is not easily cowed under political pressure..
And most admirably, not seduced by subtle promises from political masters...

Headlined as From Special Branch top cop to enemy of the state...
His candour in this news piece is credit to his character...

He knows where his loyalty lies and he is highly principled...
Admitting that he deliberated well and hard before he launched....

Some very personal and opinionated statements that jeopordised his career.....
When in fact he has merely 1000days more to see the tail end of his career...

What a ignominous exit for the country's top cop because of his stand on integrity...
How many other officers in the goverment dares stand up to uphold such integrity....

This dedicated man daringly calls each spade by its name  and no other names will do...
Even as in this complex society we live in, a wrong can be whitewashed with blinded loyalty...

If only there are more politicians and statesman of this datuk's quality...
Our country will not be suffering from escalating racial prejudice...

Or economic ills that is plaguing our posperity and currency...
Are there more men of integrity and high principles..

Are there more such men to help steer this troubled country...?


Bedroom Eyes

She seduces me with her bedroom eyes
Her hand atop mine, between her thighs
I can't deny that she has the power
To lie with me every waking hour

I couldn't oppose her advances, she has a grip on me
With her soft angelic voice and undamaged anatomy

In a trance from her bedroom eyes
Drawn into her soul, a part of me dies

She braises my fingers across her smooth shaven lips
Assures me she’s aroused, the pleasure drips

Unwrapping her body of what sets me apart 
From exposing her skin, God's work of art

A teardrop falls from her bedroom eyes
A happy tear to my surprise 

She remains admirably brave, although, this is foreign
She has not been defiled by other men

Her narrow entrance puts me to shame
 Intensifying my steady flame

God sent her to me, as an answer to my cries
I reside under the spell of her bedroom eyes

Premium Member When I Was Drunk and Wanted Big Words

We are all improbable in our own way, 
and who can augur the future?  
I never could have laid out my course in advance, 
though in looking back it all makes sense, 
even if it was me flipping a coin (or if somebody flipped it for me).  
Hindsight smooths the probabilistic waves, 
and here I sit, having cast the coin, 
having had the coin in pocket, 
having gotten change at an early age,
the cashier having had a drawerful of metal, 
the mint having stamped to its heart's content, 
the metallurgists having had their smiles,
the miners having ground fault wiles,
the cosmos having performed admirably, elementally. 

Here I sit, tonight's chautauqua taking place in a goblet of garnet, yea - a very phrontistery of fuchsia.  Far be it from me to understate the euphonious manner in which the cork leapt from the bottle, the Olympian olfactory embrace, the bathykolpian brand of this elixir.  The wind outside the window - what is it telling me?  Am I entangled, unawares, in my ebullience, a ptarmic influence in the decoction escaping my notice?  Am I blind to the greater reality, my words falling like amaurotic husks to the ground?  Or, that given ground, does it emit the mephitic essence?  Is this the supernatural revenge of some aspect of the wine's terroir, rendering the drinker typhlotic to the usufruct of this very forum, to an iatrogenic principle at work?  Are we held at bay by external sternutatory Influence, all our self-reliant suppositions trumped by errhine externals? 

Here I sit, wondering if 'tis no more than the contest of the Ego, Superego, and Id, grinding against one another in tribologic sculpting.  Or is a spiteful, chthonian influence at work, stemming from that same terroir?  Can the wine be blamed?  Can we cry out, apotropaically, to rescue ourselves?  Are conscious forces arrayed against us, or are we our own worst enemy?  Is there a soil/soul for a wine?  And is it only a fancy of Fortuna that I sit here tonight, deterministic tendrils floating around me in a manner that threaten my assumptions?  Am I free of myself, or is there no such thing as such freedom?  In the end, do all things come to one?  Obfuscatory clarity - yes, I know, and peace won't sleep in the transparent bottom of my glass.

My One and Only Blood-Sister

3-13-2017							


My One and Only
Blood-Sister
	  											
Dares to cross the lessor traveled bridges & climb the fjords to the freedom of               not allowing others to define her any longer!

Admirably tenacious & filled with love overflowing…without a mask necessary to hide behind anymore!

Wondrously ponderous of the state of humanity & forever the peacemaker!  

Nubian queen to rival all others even before color-blindness was yet kool!

Happy Birthday sweet Sister & many more
I am sofaking stoked to be a part of your life-journey once again…my unconditional love forever, Jill!!!

Premium Member Riyadh: Haven of Life

RIYADH: HAVEN OF LIFE

R - Riyadh, a city and capital of Saudi Arabia
R - "Raining Men" as lots of scattered everywhere..
R - Raging from other Arabs to Caucasians
R - Real masculine, maybe yes and maybe no..

I - I'm here about a year & 6 months
I - Interesting at first as all is new
I - In few months, I began to think twice
I - Inwardly, I feel imprisoned and treated inhumanely..

Y - Yielding me a greater awareness of life .
Y - Yes, it was my ambition to go out..
Y - Yondering all obstacles and trials...
Y - Yelping nothing but full determination.

A - Admitting,I did get what i like from here
A - Accounting from the fact that saving here good.
A - Allegiance to my family as well as my country calls me back..
A - Admirably, some nationalities prefers us..

D - determinedly, I suppose not to give up..
D - Death could only stop me from life..
D - Diligently, I'll walk each day with faith and hope..
D - Dainty, i must still appear to be..

H - However things are.
H - Hope rise up burning afire..
H - Hunterlike aggressive and brave
H - Honesty deep down in contentment.

by: olive_eloi 
aug. 22, 2013
@2:30pm

The Sales Lady

Descending into a mega-mall, the fluorescence blemishes my skin.
There is a twinge in my temples as I approach the makeup counter,
meeting eyes with a woman whose shoes pierce my gait 
and whose artificially white teeth flash like EMP bombs.

But I must not be blinded; there is something behind those calcium shutters,
 illuminating inside her vessel and peaking through each crack ... I wonder.
Is her exoskeleton painted so pristinely to brighten the day?
Who owns the day she, in every meticulous gesture, labors for?

But every question is drowned in a clanging,
a clamoring of those persistent teeth trying to make a sale.
Rattling around like new tap shoes, sheening ivory.
White noise, white noise.

Every coherent thought blurred, humming viciously
as done in the shadows of the perfect women in chromatic ads.
But she is not perfect; I can see her pores.
They are weeping the regrets of thick foundation.

Those streaks of saline wet speak gallons and shimmer 
as they slide, revealing pockets of uneven flesh tones,
subtle bruises from the hot-lipped sun,
every mar a testament to resistance in midst of the Tyrants.

Gravity, Matter and Time; how admirably this body has battled them, 
unaware of its own striking animal; a masterwork of sinew and bone,
of neurons and cartilage, of mucus and moles.
Each electron hums in its proud, puffed little chest.

In earnest I wonder, does the sales lady know every outline, 
every wrinkle of her beige, waterproof suit?
Does she wear it in precious stride, beaming just bright enough so as to share
her whole self, lovely-garish, yet never glaring the keenest lens?

There is no answer. 
I only nod slightly, appreciating her mottled gem eyes,
politely severing our feeble connection, departing, contemplating them,
that such dazzling blue could exist immersed in milky pools 
disrupted by long-legged channels of blood.

You

It is your smile;
Staring at me at every mile
It speaks to me for a while
And tells me that you are mine

It is your love;
Stirring all kind of sensation like a seductive glove 
Warming my heart as though on a stove
And this realization out shines a swimming dove

It is you, my one and only
Your presence comforting and soothing beautifully
Adorned with virtues gracefully
And happy ever after we will live admirably

Yonce

There is freedom in her beauty.  A confidence that comforts me deep in my soul.  I am in awe.  Purely.  She may as well be flying, I cannot take my eyes from her wings that spread wide as the sky.  Her song is deep and disciplined; at her command.  The places in my gut that ache she shares and makes words where there were none.  It's as if we've known each other before.  Pieces of our souls belong to one another.  So extraordinary but reachable through the humanity in her eyes.  A sadness a deepness that resonates with me.  It is within me.  Sadness within the womb of woman, scars on the heart always leave behind more than ruined tissue.  She gets that.  She gets me.  A superstar, the world cannot take their eyes off her.  She is a flame, the view of the ground from the roof.  In-arguably gorgeous, striking whether in her bare feet or the latest fashion.  Her sexy is audacious, admirably we watch, when it's over we are inspired to be sexier.  With a flip of big hair she becomes demure without parting with her sexiness.  She is what woman is.  So feminine while so in charge.  The stage rumbles underneath her feet.  She smiles into the crowd.   A smile that the millions of dollars of lights behind her cannot compete with. 
A smile that speaks
Saying... there is no place she would rather be. 
Her love of melody of sing of the release that comes with belting out your feelings becomes my love.   We are strangers but in a heavenly moment we become one. 
Sisters of the soul.   Girlfriends.   Her greatest gift to me is her strength.
© Zen Reed  Create an image from this poem.

Lindsay Lohan - Part One

Perhaps in another i.e. alternate world, this middled aged (baby boomer bona fide bra burner) of two well nigh near grown daughters felt caught in an invisible whirled wide web The Parent Trap. 
     Oft times, the languid days of his life seem to revisit a parallel universe, where sequels continue to air years since family time constituted shared watching thee designated Verizon Fios fiber optic channels favor by the youngest.
     I confess sitting transfixed in from the television (back in the days when me girls attended grade school) marveling at the camera tricks purportedly played identical twins Hallie and Annie, but in reality the prepubescent actress averred asper the title of this missive.
     A series of unfortunate events (perhaps abetted by Lemony Snicket) found these fictitious, marvelous, and vivacious separated in life soon after their parents divorced.
     Happenstance and cutting edge cunning movie making wizardry linkedin believable existence of two exact looking innocent ingenues incorporating various tricks of the filming, directing, and acting of said nymph actress.
     Some fluke chance encounter when both “girls” attended the same summer camp allowed, enabled, and provided the raw fitbits, whence each respective lass discovered visa vis via question asked and answered, that they shared the same mother and father.
     Soon after this unexpected (believably conceived drama), they secretly plotted to reunite their estranged parents.
     Although farfetched (which plot twist stretched to the realm of possible feasibility), nonetheless the story continued to offer appeal even after numerous viewings), when both my darling dimpled daubed daughters reveled in such small screen young adult age appropriate materiel.
     Within a similar vein, the gestalt viz zit hid within Freaky Friday (also starring the same teenage uber vixen) gal riddled with an identity crisis twas ably, admirably, and affably evincing the crisis of fifteen year old Anna (also Lindsay Lohan).

Talking House

Standing on a ridge a sight can be seen. The kettles were choosing a queen. Bouquets were bought for the waters within. For waters will want wonderful and wonderful it was. The chosen kettle was a marvel. Complete with glowing sides and clear too. Captivating when boiling as the bubbles could be seen. But when cleaning was required it was time for the little wire brush to trot over to the kettle. Insert itself then move around to clear the debris. WOW. Look how it sparkles. Amazing isn't it?

But a bored baboon can only be made to smile through sipping a cup of banana juice, kissing trees, and playing ping pong with the dainty pig who was also rather fed up at this moment in time as the apples were not falling from the trees and that was a travesty. 

Oh go and play a game of noughts and crosses in a shoe then. And definitely play monopoly in a chest of drawers. It is irrelevant the scores given to twenty over sized marbles in a washing machine. Scores should only ever be awarded to skittles. And skittles skate so when the pond is icy always put skating boots on them. 

To outsmart a heron with a bunch of melons and some keys is to kiss over ninety frogs at a ball. But attending a ball has to be the most single important factor on a calendar card for a pineapple whose hair stood out from the rest in lovely green spikes. But lemons never wear such head dresses for they prefer triangular tiaras and triangular tiaras are neither tepid training turtle-neck tulips and neither are they tigers talking to timbers. Timber-frames are most thwarted at the tango but woods can waltz most admirably. Positioned palettes pirouetting. 

And never forget to keep an eye on the Pyrex dish for Pyrex dishes can be filled with a vast array of produce and arrays of produce are mainly understood to be as vibrant as a colourful garden windmill. Spinning in a breeze then. Good. Creamy coleslaw calming carrots creatively creating canopies. Pea wisdom in a skirt skimming the stones into the lake from the shore holding the umbrella and a picnic basket. 

WOW

Curtain chop on a tight rope. 


Z Wunderpus photogenicus Z 

At thirty six flies zooming on a lawn to 18 garlands of flowers in a florist.

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