Best Anklet Poems
Gradually she changes her dress
at the end of this winter day
like a beautiful stage actress
preparing herself for a play.
At the end of this winter day
City of Joy as she is called
preparing herself for a play
diamond petals slowly unfurled.
City of Joy as she is called
wearing her glittering ornaments
diamond petals slowly unfurled
blooming like a rose God sent.
Wearing her glittering ornaments
anklet to bracelet of lights
blooming like a rose God sent
waiting for visitors of night.
Anklet to bracelet of lights
Howrah Bridge is her necklace
waiting for visitors of night
checks her face on the Ganges.
Howrah Bridge is her necklace
like a beautiful stage actress
checks her face on the Ganges
gradually she changes her dress.
© kash poet 2012
**Click on "About this poem" to see her necklace,The Howrah Bridge
========================000========================
Placement:5th ;(January 2012)
Contest:City Lights
Sponsor:Debi Guzzie
Categories:
anklet, imagination, places, god, beautiful,
Form:
Pantoum
after Indie Arie's "Get it Together"
Ya gotta just chain one anklet
as memory.
Plait one braid
to hide what you see.
The pain eating straight through
to your soul,
can be bandaged by playing
a role.
Tweet Tweet, I’m light
as a bird.
Slip slide I’ll wash
away dirt.
My friends are laughter and singing
out slow,
all the love I’m too
scared to show.
My ankle is sexy and sleek
where once you thought
it weak.
My will is starting to grow--
I no longer need
to yell at you.
All I have is a snap
of my fingers,
twirls of skirt
to lift my heart clear
of the debris you threw
my way.
Soul singing is the trump
of your fold.
You’re no longer needed
I showed.
After my back straightened
to fly like a bird,
I unbound my hair
and threw away chains.
Looked at the bright new view
my lightened load
has healed.
Slip slide I’m light
as a bird.
Slip slide you are lost
from my view.
Slip slide I’ve got
twirls of skirt.
Never more will I play
I am third
When I’m first.
Categories:
anklet, hope, recovery from...,
Form:
Free verse
Carolers sing in front of a garland draped door
In scarf and boot turn, spill grog into snow pour.
Approaching our porch with, “Come ye faithful”
Open the door and come, let’s adore the merciful.
To the smell of chimney smoke add the sight,
Of the warm glow from window's light;
And there's no question, no question at all,
Christmas has surely come with the snowfall!
There is subtle sweetness in the sun’s glow
As people’s shadows fall on the white snow.
Together the flakes form a soft, white blanket
That covers everything in sight as if in anklet
Barren trees, branches in twig like manner
The winter has come with his stern scanner.
Look there on the roof how the icicles hang
Winter has taken rest from sturm und drang.
Then they will go from house to house to greet
In the eve, watch nativity plays on the street.
+++
December 6, 2014
Form: Rhyme
Dr. Ram Mehta
Fourth Place Win
Contest: A Christmas Snow by Gail Angel Doyle
Categories:
anklet, christmas, snow,
Form:
Rhyme
I thought poetry is
-name of Mesopotamia which was the first civilization to emerge in human history
-ancient cave peoples surviving life struggle
I thought poetry is
-an immortal love story of Yousuf- Zulekha, Shirin-Farhad, Laila-Majnu or Romeo-Juliet
-a telephonic or open love conversation of smiling postmodern girls
-drying wet colorful clothes of beloved in the courtyard of the house
-haring of beloved with tuberose garland before a mirror
I thought poetry is
-lizards chirping from the deserted house; cockroach flying
-quarrelsome cats in the black dark or barking dogs
-the struggle of mosquito for human blood
-traveling of the arrogant indecent animals all over the night
I thought poetry is
-thrilling venturous ghostly stories of J. K. Rowling
-self-expression of known-unknown writers
-unspoken tale of a war-wounded soldier
-the regret of the thousands of dead soldiers
-the unwritten fantasy of an isolated poet
-the lonely guitar or ektara of dead singers
I thought poetry is
-without reel tie an independent flying of a kite in the sky
-in the blue sky sovereign flapping of birds
-movement of invisible winds everywhere
-hearing story of fairytale crossing of green forest
I thought poetry is
-handmade airing of newly married girl to a new groom in lunch time
-dyed hands of nubile girls by mehndi,
-captivating sounds of jingling anklet and kamarband of dancing damsels
I thought poetry is
-classic music of Pandit Ravi Shankar
-immortal tune of Ustad Bismillah Khan's shehnai
-compilation of humanitarian lyrics of the legend Bob Marley
-heart touching reciting of the Holy Quran of Qari Abdul Basit
I thought poetry is
-unforgettable philosophical discussion of Socrates with his disciples
-the philosophic lineage of learning such as Socrates-Plato-Aristotle
-immortal scientific creations of Newton, Galileo, Einstein, Nikola Tesla, Hawking
I thought poetry is
-unremitting prayer or worship of any prevailed religion devotee to get heaven
-inhuman history of bombing on the Hiroshima and Nagasaki or brutality of 1st or 2nd World War
These all are just my thinking,
my thinking is free
on my path
but poetry is poetry,
more than any thinking, many more;
on its path
Poetry is independent fully
-June 27, 2019 Chattogram
Categories:
anklet, feelings, poetry,
Form:
Free verse
*
the
watchful eyes
of full moon
flickers again, *
an alchemy of cicada nights
humming a mantra like a pastoral symphony
-- -as if in a twirl of primal energy --- flock of
herons,
band of cattle, and grasses invite smokey dusk to
recite
her fables on morning dew and twilight passages
chant after chant
* and the trees bloom of a thousand foliage
gracing the winds with such opulent swagger,
that the living—absent from babbling language —
sigh after sigh
abandon its own movements to drift on greenery
floating on anklet of sky hardly recognized , except
for this
rare instance: the dignity of darkness, the tiers of
fragrance,
and caresses of nocturnal beings gathering in
warm
oneness of silence, reverent as it were, upon
• dew soaked in buoyant wonder..*
the mind forgets to speak: the branches
of a landscape pivot never knowing why
in solace, the breath marries light
II circle II
after
II circle. II
^^^^^^^^^^^
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
Creative Layouts Contest
Sponsor: Broken Wings
8/11/2013
Categories:
anklet, creation, mystery, nature,
Form:
Light Verse
"The Queen's Slippers - Part 2"
There goes my heart
with bags packed
no turning back
or final wave
seated hooded next to huntsman
innocent, gauche, temperamental
There will come a time
to save,
but save oneself
on this dark road,
one must -
There will come a time
to talk,
but walk the talk
on this dark road by oneself
‘tis the True Lesson,
to Win-Win,
one must.
A gold wedding ring
A delicate diamante crucifix
An open heart
Some words inscribed
Latin to remember
casually tossed aside
Sterling Silver
broken in seconds
That is the past
Life now beckons.
Lost. Much later. Lost.
A Soothsayer sees –
A Soothsayer knows.
A Soothsayer has walked
the same Road.
Bluebird's and Cuckoo's nests
glittery material things
carrots dangled by withered carrion minds;
True wealth are the hidden maps
buried in the Lost Forrest of Time.
There is an owl it perches
on my heart
digs it’s talons in like
nine inch nails piercing
it softly hoots, too diabolical
for screeching
The Owl slowly turns it’s eyes
towards the Reader
a silent voyeur trespassing on the kill,
it digs it’s talons in sharper
blood flows claret stained
drop by drop
into the Poison Chalice, again,
blood flows warm and free
it’s pumping with life yet, see?
Soon, too soon it will come
tomorrows are never guaranteed.
Above it’s right talon a sterling silver anklet
it holds life in balance, still,
Warm with life
Cold with death
The fine line drawn between
Imperious over lifeblood’s flow
Inscribed, in font Gothic,
The Owl’s name is POE
Gently, the writer places the hood over POE’s eyes and kisses the top of his head. Our writer, dear reader, brings out her Queen’s Slippers. Hearts are in her mind, she’s playing “NO TRUMPS”.
(Lovejoy-Burton/Feb 2018)
1. In Australia, the Joker in the Queen's Slipper brand of playing cards depicts a Kookaburra, a bird native to Australia with a call that famously resembles human laughter. In Australian games of 500, the Joker is often referred to colloquially as "The Bird"
2. "Do You Love Me", Nick Cave
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=lZGPB4463mM
3. "The Day the World Went Away", NIN
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YtmI6j3R-Y0
Categories:
anklet, imagery, life, love,
Form:
Free verse
I am a woven thread of red, white and yellow,
I make hundred emotions mellow,
I transcend your walk into a flight of swallow,
With chimes, I fulfill nature’s hollow.
I am a woven thread with possible decors,
You love the way I adore,
I see the world through your color,
I inhale the world through your odor.
I will be your solo anklet,
I will embellish your ankle,
I will cover your wrinkle,
I will make tiny bells jingle,
I will make chimes sprinkle,
I will spread happiness,
Being your anklet.
I have two beads and a bell,
I don’t make sonorous sounds real,
I have pop colors to make you feel well.
On your ankle, I dwell,
Like a precious threaded jewel.
I won’t let anything harm you,
I won’t let a scratch to attack you,
I will turn myself into a black thread,
I will add an evil eye bead,
I will protect you from every danger,
I will be the solo ranger,
On your left toe.
On your ankle, I will be red string of fate,
Keeping me, you will find your soulmate.
I will be sea green beads on your toe-ring,
I will be the silver drops that always shine,
I will make you smile,
When you touch me, remembering sunshine.
I will be your sunshine,
I will glisten in moonshine,
Because your body is my shrine;
I am the flower oblates on your feet,
I am the threaded anklet over your brood.
I might be a mere glass bead string,
I am your accessory ever dazzling.
I am the happiness, always raining.
I am your ankle-string, always roaming,
Categories:
anklet, beauty, body, funny love,
Form:
Blank verse
The Feather of Love:
I aired a stray feather to see it flying;
I gazed it flowing in the wind;
I loved its whitish tone;
I loved the natural print upon.
I don’t know how it managed to come back,
How it never ceases to make me taken aback!
I only marked its return,
It truly turned me on,
It made my heart adorn,
A bizarre cloak of its own.
I penned my feelings with this feather,
From the ink of my heart.
I caressed my lover with its touch,
I attached it to my dream catcher,
It is suddenly my feather wizard!
I added it to a belle’s headgear,
To make her carnival look sheer,
I loved this feather on gala days,
So, I wish its company on a sad day.
I desire its touch to console myself.
I want it to erase my tears,
If that carnival girl sheds my feather!
I gifted this feather to a tribal boy,
He added this on his necklace,
It adorned his neck with stones and beads,
It gave him a taste of skirmish.
To his tribe, feather means ornament,
Printed feather means totem’s presence,
But he wore the feather in his lover’s absence!
I attached the feather to a whore’s anklet,
She caused murmur in my heart’s Brooklet.
I loved to see the feather flow,
As she walked!
She gave me a yellow feather from her bun,
I loved her hairs flowing auburn,
She was like a new dawn,
Amid the darkness of my own.
I exchanged my feather with her,
She was my true dream catcher,
She made my heart render,
In unknown splendor!!
Now I own her yellow feather,
I will never let it wither,
From the fuliginous dusts of air.
I keep it inside my book,
I accompany it on my bed,
It’s the solo companion on my brood,
It raises ripples on my heart’s brook!!
Then, on a gloomy noon the whore returned,
Once again, ‘I’m rocked.
She discovered her lost feather,
Dangling from my dream catcher,
She immediately hugged me into a kiss,
She melted me into total bliss.
Still, she took out the yellow feather soon,
And called me a ‘goon’
As if I never deserved the feather,
As if I am lover of weather!!
When I demanded my printed feather,
She detached it from her waist-dangler,
I loved the fact, she loved my feather,
And kissed on her hair.
So, she promised to remember me as a familiar stranger,.
She’ll now give the feather to her new lover,
I’ll never let her sweet memory disappear,
By the way, returned my whitish printed feather!!
Categories:
anklet, beautiful, beauty, woman,
Form:
Blank verse
Piercing my heart:
Her nose-pin twinkles at me,
Her lip-ring smiles at me,
Her dark eyes make me lust,
Leaving everything like rust.
Her cheek-piercings make fake dimples,
Fake eyelashes arise ripples,
Inside my heart.
She is a prostitute from Havana,
I first met her in a sea-side cabana,
On my head, she fastened a cool bandana,
Every night, she gives me insomnia.
Tiny star tattoos trailing her waist,
I want to keep her in my vest,
On me, she pours liquor of zest,
With her I’m never exhausted.
To her tunes, I’m devastated.
The navel piercing makes her sensuous,
She makes my heart joyous,
The tattooed sun under her navel,
and the inked baby angel,
Are enough to create a novel,
About her.
I can’t forget the cross tattoo on her backbone,
And the chuckle of her cheekbone.
I can’t forget how her toe-rings caressed my body,
And her toe-rings were gazed by me.
To me, she means joy,
Her cupid tattoo is carnal envoy.
She showers drops of joy,
With tiny stars convoy.
I kissed the tribal tatt on her lower back,
I’ve loved her for god’s sake,
Her sensuality makes me shake,
But I am not fake.
I desire to bed her every night;
I desire to be her personal knight,
Loving her is my birth right,
I conceal her inside.
She is my secret passion,
She is my strange obsession,
I can tear away all taboos for her,
She has pierced my heart.
I love the way she smokes a cigar,
I love how she applies glitter,
I love the way her lips shimmer,
But I hate the way she ogles at strangers.
I depict her face on my life-canvas,
I inscribe her name on each piece of paper,
She makes my days luminous.
She is invincible and incredible,
In my life, her presence is inevitable.
I wish I were a gem of her necklace,
I’d ward off her foes like savage,
I’ve kissed her anklet,
I’ve loved her restless,
She’s made me mad,
And colored my fad!!
Categories:
anklet, beautiful, beauty, body, woman,
Form:
Prose Poetry
The She General
Arabic Poem By: Fayez Al-Haddad
Translation into English By:
Inaam Al-Hashimi (Gold_N_Silk)
===================
I beg your passion, O General of Love!
Grant me leave to say
Some of the divine revelation of love,
Though I don’t know but the opening verse,
Your endless opening,
To recite for your eyes the glory of what God loves;
As there is no peace,
When love is but messages
Akin to caged birds.
How could I conquer your heart
with my weary army,
When you break into my kingdom,
Heavily armed with the power of women?
Have mercy upon a captured Bedouin,
Who has nothing,
Save the clemency of your eyelashes
in the Holy Spear!
Glory!
O you! One with the solemn mouth
That's colored with music,
O you! Lung of water,
That's thirsty in me,
O you! One with the beauty mark
And anklet wings;
Prophetess of promised kisses!
Sing what you wish of fancy,
And recite what your generous mouth lets out
Of precious hymns;
Trench me with the downpour of your honey,
As beyond your mouth, there is no spring,
But the “Well of Joseph” and the drought;
And beyond your lips, earthquakes trellis
In the dribbles of tales.
I tremor like the heart of a cold homer,
While the warmth lies in your chest a caldron;
Is it fear? Or is it love? Or,
Is it hate in what you know?
Hate me as much as there is love in hate!
My heart thinks no more
of the taste of touches,
And adoration forgot to cheer in the pottery jars.
Name it as you wish,
but I am a heart fluttering under your wing..
Where no limb could vie for
its tenderness of yearning.
Draw closer to me,
But I fear for your clothes
From the flames of my narcissism;
And you know me:
I am aroused by your mere image,
How would meeting you, face to face, bear me?
Be the hot coffee,
For me to be shattered
On the rim of your cup,
As multiple mouths,
Breath of cups, and smoke pipes;
As I am
Kisses,
Moans,
Songs,
And rendezvous;
And....
I do not wait!
------
Translated by: Em. Prof Inaam Al-Hashimi
USA
01/02/2011
* Fayez Al-Haddad is a poet from Iraq
Link of the poenm with introduction in Arabic:
http://almothaqaf.com/index.php/tarjamat/49439.html
Categories:
anklet, character, feelings, longing, love,
Form:
Prose Poetry
Between mountains and rivers,
inside the jungles,
lies a strong muscular lion.
After the sunset everyday,
looking for and roaring
to the light of day.
Marching and shaking the ground,
oozing heart and eagle eye.
The lion shows firmness, wisdom,
kindness and caring for his followers.
Hurrying first to the front line,
tender and generous with the weak and poor.
Abandoned by his lovers,
for running after his duties.
One day a lioness heard his roaring.
Moving and looking around,
running here and there.
After a long search,
slowly....slowly
between trees and grass
her eyes fell into his eyes.
The drums of love beat in his heart,
the rainbow colors filled his soul.
Suddenly the roaring turned into a full calm and peace.
Walking gently towards her,
she runs away and hides,
scared, and shaking her anklet revealed her...(to be continued)
Categories:
anklet, angel, beautiful, miss you,
Form:
Free verse
Nubian queen
come to your king
your braids
in red, gold and green
may our enemies be scattered
as we pass the desert hours
on this mattress stuffed
with rarest of wild flowers...
Sheba natural mother
bring your skillful talents
your body and hands
only for your king in his tent
you my queen of the moon
skin dark and beautiful as it gleams
queen of the summer
mother of children in my dreams...
I kiss soft skin soft brown fire
biting her anklet chain of gold
goddess in a funereal pyre
I kiss your beautiful feet
Cleopatra, Juliet and Mona Lisa
I kiss your beautiful toes
I kiss them for love and respect...
~ ~ ~
Categories:
anklet, black african american, desire,
Form:
Free verse
Angered Man Silly Woman Henry Trying to Watch the Superbowl--
See the holding of the man,
I think he's angry at the other man.
He finds it hard to see the pencil,
Overshadowed by the silly hensel.
Who is that loving near the cube?
I think she'd like to eat the eustachian tube.
She is but a bouncy woman,
Admired as she sits upon a noble-shun.
Her glorious car is just a biscuit,
It needs no gas, it runs on brisket.
She's not alone she brings a chocolate,
a broken heart, and lots of anklet.
The man shudders at the popcorn joyful bowl
He want to leave but she wants the remote control.
He’s trying to watch the Super Bowl;
All she wants to do is argue Oh, so;
3/11/19
Written words & arranged music by James Edward Lee Sr 2019©
Categories:
anklet, adventure, analogy, appreciation, football,
Form:
Couplet
first things first
this is not
for everyone you have
to have
quite a belly to
stomach it if you catch
the drift of them
then it gets
tough to let go
second things first be
authentic
and that means
all of you
but only in pieces
that cannot be fitted
back together,
like an eye
& hook, too
dangersome
a game for mice
and then
you can never tell
how
it all started
a slicing-edge away from
where you had even in-
tended to begin with this
mess
third things first you do, you
need a yes-yes-yes man
to temper the sensation of
when you see yourself
as a single blade of truth
in one single minute
we shared
reflected back
over a single order of
magnitude
what would it
have been
like if I had
lifted my hem
further exposing
my Victorian
anklet?
Categories:
anklet, anxiety, appreciation, art, writing,
Form:
Free verse
She has gone somewhere
May be hiding behind the hill
May be strolling over the surface of river
Or dancing with drizzling rain,somewhere
However,beware
She'll turn up soon,alone
Peep through the cluster of clouds
And regain her anklet
That you hid among the boughs of rainbow
Categories:
anklet, analogy,
Form:
Free verse