Best Adoringly Poems
In the mirrors of Moirai
kismet and karma kiss adoringly,
unaware of this betrayal they label as life.
In the hallucination we call birth,
words whisper like bitter winds,
composing a metaphorical manuscript,
weaving a quilt of invisible inflictions.
Silent screams serenade in childhood bloodshed,
where no messiah arrived to rectify sins of saints -
so some languish among abandoned souls.
Modern monsters no longer hide beneath the bed,
they feast amongst our freshly prepared banquets.
In a fathomless pit, I'm slaying prosaic demons,
before indigo hues turn ebony -
who are they to destroy my dreams?
I never heard the birds sing
in a playground of lucid lullabies.
I still recall the ghosts of featherless angels,
swaying upon swings adorned in garlands of grief.
Their eternal spirits flickering in silver embers,
evolving into perpetual vessels of reflection.
Confused in a realm of revolving doors,
tarnished paths only withhold wrath,
leaving behind trails of trauma,
where twisted trials lead to disfigured destinies.
Glass hearts only break in battles with burdens,
so our spirits become victim to Medusa eyes.
When each sigh flows like a slow poison,
we search for virgin daffodil dawns,
as distractions to numb the pain.
Fatigued from the battles from
those who rebel against our hearts -
we seek solace from sojourners of invigoration.
Blessed are those who connect with universal harp strings.
Who merge with the sacred aura of music.
Who notice the stars before twilight,
comprehending the glory of sunrise,
as an analogy against adversity.
I was not designed to be a flower,
contained in a snow globe,
covered in ivory flakes when shaken.
I have forgiven the blameworthy,
who are guilty for chaining an inner child,
but I'm still waiting to break free.
Before I waste away and my thorns decay,
ordain upon me the fortune to cradle love -
let me flourish in the field where Rumi's roses bloom.
Diminished by age, a weathered existence limps
Crutching dimmed vision and impaired limbs,
Much wiser that before, it speaks wisdom words
Entertaining grandkids in stories that enlighten,
Wishing the time to destiny would stop rushing
Reminiscing adoringly in yesteryears’ springs
As exuberance of yore in travails of life recedes,
Recalling seasons pristine, ravishing, blossoming
When youth ruled meadows of blazing revelry,
Reckoning lately though, how summer parches lilies
And winter freezes perishing autumnal leaves,
Unsure whether sunlit-dawn tomorrow brings,
If life’s graying themes can still invoke dreams~
As blunt reality confronts passions embellished.
Yet, life emulates pride of battered old oak tree
Mangled and broken, withering in gusty winds
But, standing steadfastly aiming for centuries
Rejoicing birds frolicking, concert of hatchlings,
And it too sways merrily ignoring bleak warnings
Beckoning alluringly reluctant, fading feelings
To tango in ballroom of life for yet one more spin,
Conjuring ancient images of renaissance in Italy~
The Colosseum, statues, galleries full of paintings
Pulsating forever, beyond bounds of mortality
Weathered, yet standing, as battered old oak tree
And aged-existence that defiantly keeps ticking.
November 24, 2021
Placed 2nd: “W” New Poems Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Constance La France
Theme: Weathered
See me; don’t just look at me.
Gaze into my warmth. . .adoringly.
Don’t utter words when the eyes can say so much.
Trace my face with your tenderest touch -
to love me like you mean it.
I’m your Aphrodite; handle me with care.
Let soft fingers linger in my golden locks of hair.
You are my Adonis; in the same way that I worship you,
ignite romance’s spark in me anew!
Yes, love me like you mean it.
Press your mouth to mine, but gently at first.
Imagine that I am a fine wine for your thirst.
Take your time imbibing me; the sky still has some light.
Savor me through twilight; then we’ll drift into the night.
Please love me like you mean it.
If you do these things, you’ll have no regret.
We will have a night never to forget.
Time is fleeting, and all too soon
we’ll rock away the night to passion’s tune
if only you but love me like you mean it.
Dec. 15, 2019
for Julie Leigh Rodeheaver's 'Love Me Like You Mean It" Poetry Contest
As time flows gently by and we grow old in each other's arms
Sailing away on our memories each rising sun seems brighter
I love the way you look at me forever young like in our teenager years
Holding the limelight of an adoring beauty captivates the soul supreme
Your eyes still shine with the sparkle of diamond blue skies
Each passing new moon our destiny beyond the milky way beckons
I love you most of all, it's no lie
Faraway in a universal dream fulfilled
Not only my lover, you were my best friend too
United under one flag upon the fig tree a dove sings
Every minute I think about what we have done together
Such blessings embrace even the smallest dewdrop kisses
Our love for each other has always been true touched by your divine presence
An offerings laid before your temple kneels adoringly
Can you remember the song that was our ballad royal
When we danced cheek to cheek breathing within your air
Only then in a silent warm closeness breathless whispers
Did I believe in you who skipped inside each heartbeat
Realizing in the second beat how much I care glowing with desire
You are my oxygen as I breathe as one song singing warmly in your air
A Collaborated Poem
Anne-Lise Andresen and Liam Mc Daid
01.06.2016
(unrhymed Quatrain)
Copyright © All Rights Reserved
Professor Abdul Kalam the luminous brilliant star
I pay homage to you from here in Dar
Great brill scientist in the field of Aerospace
A noble man with an intellectual mien and grace
Aeronautics and more were his speciality wow!
He's referred to as India's best known nucleur Scientist.
An inventive mind has passed away now
Lets celebrate and commemorate a great catalyst
He did India proud and did a lot for her
All Indians who know him will concur
Elected as her great President as well
Sad now to bid him adieus and farewell
Yay, the Indian soil has now a brilliant hero in her bosom indeed
I adoringly salute this great man of my race and my creed.
When a scientist dies it is a great loss for us all
May God raise more like him after his inevitable fall
But he can now repose in heaven's lap
On earth though he has left a mighty gap.
God I believe, loves those who utilise His gift of brains
Meditation releases us from earthly fetters and chains
Science and learning works your mind ; the brain needs exercise too
So I thank God for scientists , for scientific minds
That help to illuminate and enlighten this world, for me and you.
Today I could feel only burning salty tears of sadness
Alone as I walked slowly along the beach pondering
Sweet memories pervading my inner psyche deeply
With coiling inside gasps of heavy breathless moans
Sweetest honey holding precious memories so real
Faraway looking into the sun setting warm—a utopia
As a special friendship was born under a sweet kiss
While conjuring true a most incredible dream shone
Visions flashback into far distant everlasting thoughts
Full of smiles adoringly walking along the golden sands
Feelings with joy as magical tunes are so divinely sung
As large waves crash over and over in the mind’s eye
True emotions burning with love stays forever so pure
As tears fall upon the sand symbolizing a rapid change
In realizing your very touch means and meant so much
As salted heart burning flames stir unquenchable fires
You who burns inside this candle lost in your very space
Darling the happiest day of my life came on our meeting
As I found you fortified in a castle of one mystic dream
As whispers cast over the warm sea finding a true love
Carnations lovely crowning petals of a most regal life with
Beauty whose golden visage lights faraway sunsets so real
While smiling gently and graciously before her—Our Queen
Who seeks with tears and toil to restore our Paradise Lost
Gary Bateman and Liam McDaid – A Collaborated Poem,
Copyright © All Rights Reserved (June 6, 2015)
(Unrhymed Quatrain)
Within the warmth of wandering words lies the breath of God
His blessing upon panegyrical pages that my pens have clawed
For inside each liberated letter a cerebral of celestial creation
With no beginning no end to its magnanimous manifestation
His words that spew out like relentless radiating rivers ranting
In the waking wisdom of sculpturesque seeds forever planting
But with the word like a hammer can boldly build and destroy
Let’s choose our thoughts well before we deliberatively deploy
Warrior writers work with God in their panoptical pensive play
To successfully spread His Love thru words in a Biblical bouquet
For all the poets that speak through Him, I will adoringly applaud
Confessions of obsessions writing words from the breath of God.
July.19.2017
OBSESSION
Sponsored by: Silent One
Adoringly, she stares at you,
trusting that you will see her through,
her rescuer from direst straits.
So at your feet, she patient waits.
The master’s children first are fed;
bewildered not by what He said,
she knows her place, but doesn’t care.
She’s certain there’s enough to share.
A Canaanite does thus inspire
the object of her great desire;
In Tyre no less, not synagogues -
great indeed, the faith of dogs…
----------
musings on Matthew 15:21-28
Losing the belonging in debris of broken heart
to the silent shore of sorrow I had sauntered.
My emotions swirled like dislodged moist sands
in the tide of remote time when you were mine.
On the rolling sea made of billion drops of tear
descended somber shadow of night’s slate sky,
split unseen by the flying flash of a shooting star,
dissolving like memory on the horizon of oblivion.
Transient flame of trajectory of consumed desire
furrowed in my mind a blazing trail of yearning,
that I wished I could follow with the shooting star,
even if it was transitory like the flicker of my love.
I slept on the desolate edge of the lonely night,
you became in my dreaming sky a shining star,
briefly sparkling so far away, yet adoringly so near,
but you disappeared, for I didn’t dream enough.
Written : August 14, 2019
February 23, 2020
Contest : Strand Select Y, Any Form, Any Theme
Sponsor : Brian Strand
Cozy night bubbles a crimson delight
Moon and stars tango on angelic heights
Beside, pillowed the apple of my eye
His breathing languidly rhythmic with mine
His thudding heartbeat a stellar of light
Arch strong features - repleting me with might
The silence - a roaring serenity
Next to him my euphoric ecstasy
I adoringly stare on his presence
Memorizing fully his very essence
Touch of cotton - soft, I run my fingers
To each square inch, I caress to linger
Wrapped tight in his musky heavenly scent
Praying forever not only for rent
But soon... I must leave you not to sin more
Saving you from patches of harlequin
I thank heavens for this amazing date
Hating me is better than sinful fate
(c) Olive Eloisa
6:31 pm
May, 25, 2014
Inspired by the poem Silent Nights of Arthur Vaso with a twist
CONTEST: IMAGINATION
SPONSOR: DAVE WOOD
first place... to GOd be the glory.. !
Andrea Dietrich
someone watching me -
hypnotic brown eyes were proof. . . .
Greek gods still exist
mere mortal was I
penetrated by his gaze
how could I resist?
goddess for one night -
my face by his eyes and lips
adoringly kissed
for "Eyes First Meet" Contest *********3 Senryu's Only
Sponsored by Michael M. Falotico
If I could be a cat, I wouldn't chase a mouse,
but if you put me out,
perhaps I'd choose to go and search about
for flowers I could snip with small white teeth
to carry home to you inside my mouth.
My mission then complete,
adoringly I'd greet you with a mew
and blooms strewn at your feet.
I think I might like that.
If I could be a cat, I wouldn't want to eat
kitty stews in cans or livered meat.
I think instead I'd use my feline eyes to plead-
entreating you to feed me from your plate,
and then when you had your fill,
perhaps you'd leave me ice cream
melted and unfinished from your bowl.
I wouldn't hesitate
to lick your fingers clean appreciatively.
Yes, I think I might like that.
If I could be a cat, I wouldn't want to sleep
alone and curled around some ball of yarn.
I'd leap onto your bed instead (I wouldn't make a peep)
and nestle in the cradle of your arm.
And if you reached to stroke my fur,
I'd place my paws upon your chest charmingly
and warmly start to purr.
If I could be a cat, I think I might like that.
(an oldie that I wanted to show again, and I add this little
Valentine Haiku on the bottom just for you, PD):
the trinity of
Linda, Irma, and PD. . . .
get BIG hugs from ME
Warning, this poem is dark. It is inspired by the Canterbury Tales by Geoffrey Chaucer.
Gather around and hear of the strange day,
When three total strangers met on that plane.
Three unlikely females eager to tell,
Of their journey through the clutches of hell.
My hands are weak but I'll try with my might,
To give you facts and get this story right.
Come along on their unexpected quest,
Learn the reasons why these females lack rest.
The first is grey-eyed, skinny, and a blonde,
And due to her boredom, she slowly yawns.
Fair of skin, but vain and vapid of heart,
She makes her profit acting in the arts.
Lacking in brains, but her beauty stands out.
She looks perfect from her stance to her pout.
Successful and severely ambitious,
Cross her, she turns rigorously viscous.
“Holly Star” people adoringly shout,
Their praises erase all her feeble doubts.
Remaining awake for days at a time,
Easing pressure with the help of a line.
She loves her job more than anything else,
But Holly feels like a doll on a shelf.
The second is plain but kind as can be,
Lacking a husband, a mother of three.
Prominent red hair, blue eyes that are lost,
Freckles dot her face, her temper a wasp.
Three screaming children are taking their toll,
Their father's absence turned their hearts to coal.
Months of a mom struggling to make ends meet,
Make her closer to admitting defeat.
Her choice of work is not quite ideal
Pleasuring men for a family meal.
Disgust, self-loathing, and hatred are there,
Under the surface, with no love to spare.
Her life is foggy and covered in rain,
She wants to put a bullet in her brain.
The last woman is always on her guard,
From an accident that left her scarred.
Twelve unbearable years have all but passed,
Since the scars on her body were then cast.
Long charcoal black hair and brilliant green eyes,
Her profession centers solely on lies.
Her absence extends weeks at a time,
To find those willing to spend on a dime.
She hides all that dope in crevices not seen,
Storing it in baggies to keep it clean.
Deceitful, perceptive, a broken saint.
Her hobby makes the whole idea quaint.
Who has she fooled? Can I even name one?
Not her daughter, but possibly her son.
People do certain things that irritates the hell out of me,
yet if you do these very same things, I respond differently.
I find it amusing and so very cute adoringly.
Just another sweet quality of your endearing personality.
You are the exception to my rule most definetly.
The shock of the slap, the sudden
attack leaving you off-balance, reeling,
smack reddening in astonishment like an enforced blush—
a mark of antagonization as if some cold hand
meant to remold your mouth, gag
words of love, truest scripture, the peace of non-religion
that is Christ who longs for us to befriend:
the thief, the whore, the lost and infirm, every cursed Judas,
all races and ages, unbelievers, the rightfully imprisoned and even
the tyrants of today who defile a faith by delivering blows
though the other cheek is willingly offered,
turned by the Holy Hand, so softly, meekly, adoringly ...
His kiss, ready in the breeze, the Messiah’s healing balm.
His warm heart within you, calming your storm.