Best Admirations Poems
It is on this day
Into his elegant horizons
Where cirrus clouds are sprayed from sunrises and sunsets
Attuned within throat of violins
An example of his concave humanity
Preaching fond memories in baritone clefs
An embrace of admirations’ core within exhaled stanzas
Forcing trembled knees to stand against robe of Death
His double entendres know no bounds
My iridescent conundrums become resolutions’ pavement
As I grab aloe-coated tissues
Wiping joyous tears from his laughter induced statements
He pours wisdom in foaming, oat-flavored pints
While we relish in his charming, devilish wit
Slowing down a rushed humanity
Bit by luminescent bit
Yes, it is on this day
Where I choose to declare in Quatrain formed sentence
To the one that puts the “man” in humanity
An affirmation on why I bow in Santa’s reverence
©Drake J. Eszes
Dedicated to the almighty Jack Ellison and my 1st Quatrain!
O' The Deep Wisdom That Man Fails To Seek
Dark world's scar, sad clown in dancing despair,
Lively in sewers of forbidden thought,
Gambling in darkness for a wasted share,
Content with errors so easily bought.
What of the world's sweeter admirations?
Or family's great clear and glowing praise?
Shall one thus live for selfish sensations,
With no need for truth that spirit will raise?
Yet life may still gift other shining gold,
As one walks its great mysterious paths.
In adventure one must be bravely bold,
without fear of Fate's many fickle wraths!
O' the deep wisdom that man fails to seek.
Such loves and treasures, he gets not a peek.
Robert J. Lindley, 3-20-2016
Syllables Per Line:
10 10 10 10 0 10 10 10 10 0 10 10 10 10 0 10 10
Total # Syllables: 140
Total # Lines: 17 (Including empty lines)
Words with (syllables) counted programmatically:
Total # Words: 102
Yellow flower, grieving flower, pale flower,
You were burnt by the sun and the hot rain.
Ripe flower, matured flower, immaculate flower,
You've nevertheless kept your phenomenal beauty sane.
The half-yellow and the half-green leaves
Are trying to mimic your beautiful color.
Mother Nature and Fauna are profusely in tears,
And Squirrel and Nightingale in a state of horror.
Flower of one of the most somber and romantic seasons,
Your exceptional beauty merits great admirations
And your sweet and delicious sap is beyond words.
Flower, I'm coming tonight to rest on your turfs,
To contemplate the stars and the sparks,
The abandoned branches and the rods floating in the parks.
Copyright 1997 Hebert Logerie
Author of Sparkles of Love recently published by Xlibris.com.
Copyright © October 1997, Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved.
Hébert Logerie is the author of numerous collections of poetry.
French version
Fleur d'Automne
Fleur jaune, fleur triste, fleur pâle;
Le soleil t'a brûlée et la pluie t'a échaudée;
Fleur mûre, fleur maturée, fleur immaculée;
Malgré tout, tu as gardé ta beauté phénoménale.
Les feuilles à moitié jaunes et à moitié vertes
Essaient de porter tes belles couleurs.
La nature et la faune sont inconsolables et en pleurs,
Les écureuils et les rossignols sont en état d'alerte.
Fleur d'une de la plus sombre et romantique saison,
Laisse-moi admirer ta beauté exceptionnelle
Et savourer encore ta douce et délicieuse salive.
Fleur, je viendrai, ce soir, m'étendre sur ton gazon.
Viens admirer les étoiles, les étincelles,
Les branches et les tiges abandonnées dans la rive.
Copyright © March 2008, Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved.
Hébert Logerie is the author of numerous collections of poetry.
[ Poet’s Note : This is a Companion Poem to my
I AM : 2025 poem ]
“essence in naked soul cannot
evolve Spirit or It’s quest for life eternal
form as veil is mandatory to experience
truth, for every fractal of Great All”
Poet
______________________
through aeons I traversed timelines
dimensions, conversed across realms
realities merged my cloak of bliss
rainbow coloured surged
down from Purest of Pure at His
injunction to experience with
experiment creative powers
~ intellect from higher to lower
wider to narrow — criss-crossing
mind acquired desires, missions
magnetic in hunger to achieve
conceive ~ enfleshed it meshed
wisdom neglected or perfected
for to journey back Home soul
needs ego’s evolving fractal face
density’s grace in cloaks of class
culture, gender, shadows, endless configurations, admirations
sensuous touches fire, water, air, earth
hunger, satiation, poverty, wealth
health, sickness - form is norm, witness
embellished in garments of choice it ascends ladders of sagacity ~ how else to transmute accumulated debits-credits but via robing then disrobing ?
peeling chosen garbs, it fingers light as dark,
vice versa - coin flips dips magnetic
Spirit is infinite form-formlessness
Supreme chuckling creative game —-
ONENESS all the same
Happy birthday jake
All shall thee have for takes
Protection from Him your fate
Prayers and love from a friend
Years and more in your name
By this a star was given
Indeed a balance to all as even
Rich a hero so befits
To be a divine hand as given
However stooping yet simple
Divine hand really is given
As always seen a steven
Your years a gem in all seasons
Jake! A tag to a guru
Also called by okechukwu
Knees as blessed by the mighty with
Enduring charisma so lovely
Only good wishes can I offer
Keeping the admirations conferred
Exceeding all boundaries in thy area
Challenges only noticed in arrears
Happiness I wish thee in life with
Unending joy in all thy thrives
Knowing all the echo starts
With thy name amidst all
Undoubtably blessed and graced
~~~
Soft graceful effortless magnificence
From sweeping preambles omnipresence
O’er marine moistening proclamations
Tides flowing distanced admirations
Warm simple potency unprotected
Leads ancient seafarers disconcerted
To destine improvements phenomenon
Place complete peacefulness comprehension
~~~
©2014 by Regina Riddle
THE LIGHTHOUSE - Poetry Contest
Sponsor: nette onclaud
September 23, 2014
I found my passion where
I started shining there
Got admirations from everywhere
& I stopped for a moment
In a deep well I plummet
Then I learned a precious lesson
Poeple, praises & admirations
Are the shinotactic flyers
(movement in the direction of shining person)
In less than second's quarter
Fly & changes their direction
In the self-encouraging rain
I started climbing again
Towards the light of my aim
With a sworn statement
"That I'll definitely shine
Brighter than yesterday
But without being flyer affectionate
I will keep my heart
Simple & pure
From fake flyers
Flying back & before
I will climb & climb
I will climb & climb
I may fall or drop
But I will NOT stop
Until & unless
My Passion's light get off"
Which comes first?
The poet or the poem?
Should i love you for your words
Should i follow you for your words
Should i adore you for the picture on your profile
Or your biography that leaves me in amazement
Should i respect you for your words
Or should i wait online just to see you there
Linked by wires and connections
Somewhere on the web of things
And admirations
Were your words there before you
Do they make you
Do they make me
That maybe i only comment on yours
That maybe your comment on mine
Is like divine
Is like oxygen
Is like surviving....
Words win here
And so does the creator
Respectively the poet and the poem
Both come first
Homage to a man like you.
Thanks for making our life in blue.
A man of great honor.
One of life's greatest donors.
One day may come that I'll be on your shoes.
Still I know you are one of my crews.
Guiding me on my life's horror.
'cause you're my one and only father.
You are worth of all salutations.
One of my admirations.
The source of my wealth.
Take good care of your health.
Indeed you are a precious treasure.
Luckily brought by nature.
This is your day to enjoy.
Homage to the one who gives me joy!
Express I warm approval or admiration of, HIM
We can’t praise HIM enough, burning is my emotions for HIM
My body moves in HIS breath
Admiration I applaud pay tribute to HIM
Speaking to the surroundings, toward the skies as I
I rave, I rant, I sing I dance in praises
Heap in praise, praise on Alleluia
Sing my song dance to my hymn
Approval acclaims I admirations toward the internal name of HIM
His name above others I praise
Hail, cheer in approval, acclaim, ADMIRATION OF PRAISES OF HIM--Alleluia
8/25/19
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. ©2019
"Who wrote the poem?"
It was a pen and a paper that I have,
the envy and hatreds that I wear,
accompanied by my heartaches and stiches,
plus my incapacity of doing things right,
They wrote every single word and stanzas,
they weave each rhyme per line,
Like a sword they try to cut deep into the readers bone,
It is them,it isn't me who wrote each poem,
It was the beatiful sceneries who wrote poems of admirations,
the piteous scenarios who wrote poems of compassion,
the sufferings who wrote poems of sympathy,
it is what I see,It isn't me who wrote each poem,
It was the emotion I wear who wrote each poem,
it was what I see who draw each images within lines,
It was my incapacity who binds me with the writer of those poems,
But still,it's what I feel and what I see,It isn't me who wrote the poems.
I stayed on this famous island for a little while,
fortress, prison and avant-garde Bonaparte style.
Rigged charm with antiquities slow train,
governors constitution keeping royal patriots vain.
200 years after the mysterious death of the king,
at his grave, I was wondering, ‘You poor little thing’.
Another sort of great Alexander that loves to conquer,
taken on the establishments in crisis that ponder.
Ideals of restless doomed heroes celebrated,
taken war to higher constitution elevated.
St. Helena the wife of Emperor Constantine,
went on to pilgrimage to find the sacred terrain.
Building the church of the Holy Sepulchre,
the place of Christ crucifixions culture.
Priestess of Avalon and patron saint of discoveries,
island of sacred through Christ self recoveries.
Total sovereignty and its dying destiny,
luring fatal admirations penalty.
No escaping from repeating history.
Puller of a big shell home, no hobo
Tracked brightest of silver patterns
Bold snail, Hugh wobbled with mojo
Hubris resumes his powerful status
Side to side saunter, his slimy slide
Tells everyone of bombastic confidence
Temptations, his charms quickly aquire
Conquests met get exactly what he wants
Big ego feeds his sanguine superior
Fragile actuality of shell's thin build
Ignores Hugh's vulnerable exterior
Sure immortality, greatness not killed
While other average snails take basic
Drinking from small puddles satisfies
On ordinary, Hugh's time never wasted
Licks lascivious in ponds' crystal eyes
Knows all stalks point in his direction
Enviously wishing they had his talent
Lesser eyes try to emulate perfection
Witnessed in wet lipped pond faelic
Translucent Hugh has fearless appeal
Water strewn on shell by his muscles
Flicked back lifted four stalk face feels
His good looks are escape from trouble
Glistening green moss highlights brown
Shell symbol of ultimate great manhood
Stalks merge with surface, he slips down
If hubris could save him, it now would....
Neighbourly snails rushed to his aid
By rushed, I mean a metre a minute
Flailing Hugh refused attempts made
Handsome was never made diminutive
Lost to the pond of many admirations
Hours spent dwelling on his worth
Inflated means neglected summation
Valuable imput not measured by girth
!!!!!
12th September 2020
Submitted:
26th September
For William Kekaula's
Impact and Metaphor
THE FOOL AND THE CHILD
To be absorbed by it is losing your mind,
no longer aware of, space, shape, or time.
To have it surround you is being untied,
no longer afraid to let go and just ride.
To let it engulf you is you being born,
only this time, from yourself you are torn.
To know it believes in you, is a trampoline
that tosses you higher, then higher again.
To summon it whenever you want it around,
is a buried treasure still deep in the ground.
To wonder about it, a painful yearning like you’ve never known,
a lesion that wont heal , over time it has grown.
To see it removed is watching a surgeon removing your thoughts,
amputating, and severing all you have got.
To know it was stolen is a three alarm fire,
a raging inferno burning up your desires.
But to know it was you, who let it slip through,
who carelessly sat while it all came unglued,
frozen with fear, made not one move,.
You snipped the last thread that held it together,
could’nt care less, one way or the other.
Well this is the child whom pretends to be grown,
a lover without a love of his own,
a shelter without one to shelter from sun,
a fool who continues to fool no one,
except himself and himself, alone.
and knowing this child is knowing one thing for sure,
this kid, I’ve seen standing outside my front door,
Looking hungry, and sad and with peculiar temptations, luring the fool with false admirations.
Vibrant swirls, searching a canvass of black
Creating a world of colures,
Taken from a gunnysack…
The mind explores all it observes,
There is no turning back~
Admirations, full of life deserved;
The portrait is complete, all concur,
Now how about that…