Best Anklets Poems
Come, dear Krishna!
Fall in love with my love for you.
When my honey- filled glance dips your unsurpassed beauty, fall in love with my eyes.
Fall in love with my imperishable ardour for you.
When my feet dance to the tunes of your flute, fall in love with the music of my anklets.
You are the colossal cosmos and I'm an infinitesimal splinter
You are the sweetness in a mellowed fruit and I'm the wrinkle on a withered flower.
You are the dream of every soul and I'm a forsaken lonely petal
But, oh darling! when you assimilate me into you, we become one.
Melt in the music of my longing for you
Fill the flute of my desolate heart with your benign breath
Kindle my lame soul with the shimmer of your smile
Let's sing, let's swing and let's dissolve in this darkness tonight.
Categories:
anklets, i love you,
Form:
Free verse
l.
Opening the closet of narra doors, I sweep through
organza skirts and gemmed ringlets; my hair
ruffling aimlessly upon scalloped kerchiefs
smelling decade - old hyacinth, Mom’s favorite
ambrosia: she would lift her anklets
in tiptoed hums, ”night and day, you are the one..”
Evenings touched her candle hands; hands
that soothed wounded knees from jackstone fights;
her fingers caressing a pony -tailed girl’s wrath
with piano keys rippling into a gentle moan;
“night and day you are the one…”
And i am delivered from my tempestuous rants.
ll.
From nowhere, the porcelain mirror gazed at me;
her rhythm of silence billows, cradling my nights
with each veil of her almond eyes
that enter into my irises: a serene sight
too close, much too tight I clung to her unspoken word.
Through years, I grew like a bamboo shoot: her quiet smiles
and music walked me through reality’s maze.
And how I would wail bearing the grim of hard study,
coughing late, late hours of reading toil…yet,
she stayed like a moth with charm flushed
in a wind of calm gaze, ebbing .
lll.
And only Mom could melt my temper
when my raging soul paused to wonder
at her light’s glow: oh, her feminine beat illumined
more lamplights dancing inside this rebellious head…
and now, she hovers around me.
I become her eyes, chanting, “night and day,
you are the one” ; never balking at my surreal conquests.
She is gone bequeathing warmth into my torched flights
without question; with much love dripping
from her graceful movement, straying all through
these my breaths: “night and day, you are the one…”
Best Sad Poem Ever Contest of Laura Loo
Resubmitted 8/28/2016
Categories:
anklets, longing, mother daughter,
Form:
Prose Poetry
sometimes I sing
antique anthems,
of the nights
I was confined
within a bottle
of diamond tears,
wept woefully
from the widest sky
that held kaleidoscopic stars~
amidst festooned fields of
pixie-dust flowers,
hanging like
starburst chandeliers,
when t i m e was never in favor
of designing a
heart-shaped galaxy
to ease the
troubled torrents….
as languid linings
cast by the
sombre umbra
soaked me
in melancholic sprinkles,
of what was left in my strength;
for I knew nothing
beyond the evening clouds
that mirror
marshmallow musings,
stained with
tuscan tones. ..
yet, I remember
seeing your sunflower smile,
as I dreamt of
your mystical melodies,
spoken poetically,
way before I knew you
would become my reality,
though the homely hideaway
to my hopes
now fester amongst
corners of your
dusky eye lashes…
I’ve battled with nothing
but obsidian obstacles
that laid
in the
tiny tunnels
of my
crippled consciousness.
now our souls
seem chained in pearls
and coiled in amethyst anklets
as one, in stellar waves
through a
ceaseless constellation;
cosmic connection
endorsing these fingers
with your
poignant pantoums,
aligning my heart to lay
within your
evergreen embrace,
limited by
the lyrical land
you’ve lavished
my
longing lagoons into.
so here I am, scribbling stories
of our zealous zenith
within your platinum presence~
as confessions disguised
within tangerine tercets
of vanilla villanelles
have now come alive,
amidst a rebirth
of a warrior meant
to b l e e d
vivid verses
eviscerating
nacreous nebulas
into blissful b l u e brines,
that shall stream
through
unfamiliar rivers of dragon roses
till every electrifying element
rests in aesthetic harmony.
Categories:
anklets, deep,
Form:
Free verse
Hell breaks loose through the trusting door
Whining its splintering, wooden hinges
Claws wrapping onto the arches beyond
Gnarled feet pressed on the threshold
Lower limbs jingling with sparky anklets
Ready to catapult and kick with spitting mouth
To shove its shine like a worthy prick
It was time for her daily purges
Peace is slapped about in her fickle hands and made ragged
Turmoil in her pedicured toes erodes the smoothed surfaces
Of the fashions’ must, into dusty rust of sick disgust
Her coral lips curve in delight
At the sight of confused and crazy creatures
Staring numbly at her hell-bent sight
She is always laughing, snarling or lying low
Waiting for the climatic blow
Bottom dwelling, blush smearer
Eyeliner runner, nail-biting binger
Her lies tease and her eyes see a perfect she will never be
As her large, curved nails glimmer
She scuttles her way like a crab in a salty delirium
She hides her hiss like a snake ready to miss for a chase
Challenging practicality,
“Dear Prudence,
Won’t you come out to play?”
But we are silent to the accursed
The wise are wary and rehearsed
We all slip right through as she intrudes an empty room
Waiting for a reaction, screwing with the lights to assert a distraction
She wreaks havoc in the dark,
“Dear Prudence!”
She screams,
As we softly walk down the path, nomads against the crabs
She doesn’t realize she is her worst fear—alone
Her mask melting and her anklets snapping
Collapsing, the tears she squeezed for her high
Were emptied, vindicated and dried
Angrily she must realize
In her twisted, stubborn way
It’s a beautiful day…
A crazy collab with my brother David Breidenthal [J.W Earnings]
Categories:
anklets, angst, dark, judgement, life,
Form:
Free verse
Her name was Anarkali,
an eloquent carnival of legendary beauty.
a dancer in the court of Emperor Akbar.
Deep russet rouge blushed her red,
a silky smile on her rosy peach cheeks
rich, sensual and seductive...
With the sweet scent of jasmine, and
festal moonlight of crystal starred sky,
the damsel danced her way to Salim's heart.
A charmed Prince reverberated in her dreams
in rhythm of a daisy swaying in his breeze.
Entranced in her emollient ecstasy
Captured in the cage of her beautiful eyes.
Love blossomed like a dazzling wildfire.
But a sinister callous world, was eager to kill.
Passion handcuffed by shackled royal ego,
Anarkali was sentenced to be entombed alive.
Behind a wall of stones and prison bars,
Blood still throbbed her myriad unseen scars.
As vibrant colors of a sunset blurred,
An enslaved moth danced to flames of death.
As chimes of Ghungroo* muffled in mutenes,
An enslaved soul emancipated in darkness.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
Anarkali in Urdu means Pomegranate blossoms
*Ghungroo is an ornament of bells worn as anklets by dancers.
The love story of Prince Salim ( Mughal Emperor Jahangir) and Anarkali is legendary.
Anarkali, also known as Nadira Begum, was a courtesan from Lahore in modern-day Pakistan. According to one of the stories, Anarkali had a relationship with the Crown Prince Jahangir and the Mughal Emperor Akbar had her enclosed in a wall where she died.
4th July 2019
Sponsor John Hamilton
Contest Name : Slave to love
Categories:
anklets, dance, lost love,
Form:
Free verse
I have a wooden cedar box
Filled with precious things
Most of no value to you
But joy to me it brings
A copper penny, 1961
The year I was given life
A withered old white rose
From the day I became a wife
Two certified legal documents
That tell me that I am free
A US birth certificate
And a final divorce decree
Golden locks, adorned with ribbon
Clipped from the head of my son
A bag filled with tiny teeth
Exchanged for a dollar one by one
A report card, five A’s and one B
My sons first year at school
A tattered silken blanket
Still covered with infant drool
A book of poems that I had written
While I was a rebellious teen
Fifty plus love letters
From then, now and in-between
Old yellowed photographs
Of family long since gone
A dozen crayon pictures
That both my kids have drawn
Hospital anklets, pink and blue
That both my children wore
A stupid keep out sign
That I used to hang on my door
Each item within this box
Is a memory that I hold dear
I keep them for a distant time
When my memory won’t be so clear
So if you wish to see inside
To you I have one request
Do not call it just a box
‘Cause to me it’s a “TREASURE CHEST”
Categories:
anklets, daughter, family, happiness, life,
Form:
Rhyme
hold still, eventide ...
I am a capricious cad among wraiths,
waltzing with a mop in
a Marrakesh courtyard - catching stars
as they drip with waxy and
wild wonder, into the braids of my maudlin
noose, tightening
jangling, dangling ...
rose gold anklets, (wrapped 'round leggy perfection),
shimmer their hammered facets,
kicking smoke into toroidal hoops with
raw regard
while they spin, table-top, to a
Chaabi chant
candles waving their
flames to beckon the darkness close ...
notes from a punji weave
mystery thru the heavy heat, Henna-striped hands
cradling a bottle, jade green, as the
white flowers gush their cold, gold bounty
down a curvy thigh
wetly wrapping an unblemished
capuccino calf, Perrier-Jouët trickles off tender
toes to plop, warm, on my
tantalized tongue
I kiss the fuchsia-daubed nails to
show proper veneration, then spin back to
the murky music, mop-handle
lover in tow
down to the spinning
tie-dyed rugs and pillows, I surrender all to the
callow flesh there, wanting ... willing
her hair and hide and ebon eyes
dark as delirium, while the brass-headed
snake-of-a-hookah waits
for a kiss
long draws bring dizzy
dreams and hypnotic swirls from the lamp,
aromas and an opiate nirvana coiling
around my cares
lost as a lamb, to soft skin ...
and sweet smoke.
( Jemaa el-Fnaa Square in Marrakesh is one of the most active and exciting places on earth, with exotic foods, snake-charmers, clothes and antique vendors, magicians, dancers, haqle or street theater, storytellers, acrobats, musicians, comedians, water sellers, tattoo artists, carnival acts, even organ-grinders with monkeys, and yes, opium and hashish traders. It has remained largely the same for over a thousand years, and is indeed an important part of history, declared by UNESCO as a "Masterpiece of World Heritage" - if you're ever in Morocco, it is a MUST-see! )
Categories:
anklets, adventure, appreciation, celebration, travel,
Form:
Imagism
Will you come to the great tamarind’s shade
When the noon sun sends cupid with its rays
To play hide and seek with every grass blade
I watch the path with a relentless gaze
Come my love for the world is in a daze
Wear not your anklets as you come my dear
Walk in discreet silence come have no fear
Will you come to the quick footed river
When the full moon lamp is vividly lit
yet in the clouds it seems to disappear
my feet in stream, I shall silently sit
holding a long bamboo flute to my lips
wear not jhumkas tonight, they interfere
with the tune I play only for your ears
Will you come to that broken bullock cart
when dusk lowers its veil down to the field
we shall then talk of matters of the heart
and bite gently into sugar cane's yield
till our lips meet in love and softly sealed
Wear not your coyness leave it far behind
A heart full of love you will surely find.
*jhumkas are long bell shaped earrings often worn by women in the Indian countryside.
Afroze
For 'Romanticism in rime Royal'
Categories:
anklets, longing, love,
Form:
Rhyme Royal
f o r g i v e n e s s
is the window
to unknot the twigs of tainted trees,
where cuffed anklets
around the star-struck skin of
seraphic silhouettes
feel the suppressed sighs
of the ice-moon,
while
cocooned in a nest
of clamorous clouds,
blanketing rivers of love
flowing within
the esoteric orb,
like the raining snowdrops,
designing a bed of purity and humility,
to rinse the remnants of
stinging sorrow,
pricking thin feathers of phoenix wings
in compassionate clemency,
sealed in envelopes
carrying inked veins of a
weeping violin...
and as the city lights
adorn the panoramic view
of this bleeding boulevard,
I search for a verb
that hides between verses,
woven from heartbeats
of you and I
from pools of poems
poignantly painted
within closed pores
of persimmon pages,
locked with glimpses and polaroids
of
unscripted
t o m o r r o w
that only the soul of swirling
comets
can decipher~
for this is a tale
of peacock butterflies,
mirroring blue-ringed topaz,
like hibernating eyes
that seek not
ephemeral effervescence
jinxed by the touch of
two-faced artists,
performing hypocrisy
in perfect tenor,
like alchemists
dressed
in neon fairy lights.
So take these words
as memoirs of m e r c y
this soul is the soil~
where chamomiles bloom
in the glass garden
of forget-me-nots,
as my mind is
a beloved heritage,
awaiting drizzling rays
condensed with contentment;
a tempest
sedated and subdued
in
ultraviolet grace…
Categories:
anklets, forgiveness, friend,
Form:
Free verse
In a room bubbling exuberance
and a gaiety crowd dancing to beats
we sit across each other ten feet apart,
his whispering pulses become audacious
every second approaching my heart
and I shiver as they unravel my layers,
intimate desires beneath naive smiles.
Flickering lights on his velvet skin,
topaz brown eyes decipher my love,
unveiling pearls behind chandeliers
as I make nervous moves to blanket them
in timid blinks of my lush orchard,
but he knows for I see him smile,
his blazing patience till we escape
this cacophony to face each other in euphoria.
Beads of sultry lemonade on his lips
kiss my fingers as I touch my glass,
he seems jealous of my crystal earring
embracing my cheek, entwined with my hair
and I envy his cotton white shirt
draping his ocean of passionate dreams.
He folds his sleeves, I tie my locks,
we've taken our first steps,
now ten steps apart drenched in mists
of our heated breaths we float at night,
our glances intermingled in frequencies,
that only our fingers can decode in smoke,
weaving patterns in the air between us,
my anklets kiss my fragile feet,
embellished in raging storms we drown,
in waves of hushed union escaping through vents
of a moment standing still known just to us,
pouring through crevices that moisten parched lands.
He has read my fantasies in folded memories,
electric touch flaming my passionate side
as his fingers hold mine in our recluse.
We've made love without physical touch,
and now we dance on pearls of octaves,
intertwined with beats on the surface,
curling in laced rhythms of ancient *ragas.
*Ragas are musical melodies for improvisation akin to a melodic mode in Indian classical music, considered a traditional means in music to evoke certain feelings in an audience.
June 28, 2020
Sensuality Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Silent One
~Winner: 2nd Place
Categories:
anklets, love, passion,
Form:
Free verse
there is a brothel there down the street,
built like a palace three stories high,
hear anklets jingle on dancing feet,
with singing and drums as you pass by.
I have chanced within once as a youth,
to savour pleasures of sinful flesh,
in wine and smoke did not see the truth,
the tormented souls trapped in evil mesh.
pretty they who were plying their trade,
vibrant bodies in their early teens,
stained glass windows, moroccan lamp shades
a sale of bodies for living means!
men of wealth leaning on cushioned seats,
aged lustful men aim for a score,
clapping and rejoicing with the beats,
toss money up asking for encore!
men of high repute frequented the halls,
those who spoke morals and values too,
even priests, scholars bought at these stalls,
of suffering they caused, had no clue!
girls were from different parts of state,
some sold through poverty by their own,
some stolen from home or lost to fate,
some orphaned young, some reasons unknown!
here was a trade all chose to ignore,
law makers, elite just let it go,
each year the numbers grew even more,
bodies sold, though their young hearts cried ‘No’!
religion morals preached everywhere,
man’s hypocrisy in full display,
parents showed their own children love, care,
suffering of these girls none would say!
late one autumn I stopped to enquire,
found doors locked, no lights, no sound, no sway,
said one “come morrow, if you desire,
Brothel is closed for Gandhi’s birthday!
4th placement in Premium contest
written 13/02/2021
They closed the brothel contest
Kai Michael Neumann Sponsored
9 syllables each line
7 stanzas!
abab.... rhyme
Categories:
anklets, corruption, desire, fate, lust,
Form:
Rhyme
that barn owl in the tree must know something,
quietly it looks, follows all night long,
looks from left, right, left.. like pendulum swing,
its ears pricked, is someone humming a song?
autumn leaves move about in the slow wind,
like wed pair in love frolicking a dance,
wind chime plays loud as the night rains rescind,
past me sails hint of jasmine, dare I glance?
wind keeps the tempo as thunder rolls on,
glass door is adorned in silver droplets,
autumn roses strewn right across the lawn,
do I hear someone with dancing anklets?
Dark was the night and eery at its best,
eyes saw nothing but knew was not alone,
to wedding of spirits, have I been guest?
mystery for me, could the owl have known?
2nd placement
Written 20/10/2023
rhyme abab 10 syllables each line
Tanya Kitchin sponsored
Spooky Halloween Rhyme, Poetry Contest
Categories:
anklets, death, devotion, halloween,
Form:
Rhyme
"When I stare out into the sea, watching its changing moods, I see the reflection of life there and think of life's tumult and tussle on one side and its ease and peace on the other." _ By Poet
When the world begins to close in on me,
I walk to the beach, not too far away.
The sea, ever alluring and new
Yet never changing, sprawls before me.
A sight to ease my weary heart!
The chilly breeze blowing,
The jets of water, dispersing in smoky spray,
The tides rushing to cleanse the feet-
All so thrilling, offering a calm serenity to me.
Sometimes the billows break and roar,
Creating a wild mayhem
Sometimes, the sea lies quiet with no upsurge,
Producing a steady repeating and fading rhythm
When I hear the tinkling sound,
The gentle waves and wavelets produce,
I am reminded of a maiden’s anklets chiming,
As she inches ahead with steps demure
And heart pounding, to her bridal chamber
On her first nuptial night with dreams galore
At times, the tides become thuds of footsteps,
Down the long corridors of time
Tolling minutes and hours away
Thus, the waves advancing and receding,
And the sea, boisterous and brooding in turn,
Remind me of the eternal flux of life,
And the inevitable ups and downs, we all experience!
April.10.2023
~Placed First~
Writing Challenge ‘S’ Words, Poetry Contest
Sponsor- Constance La France
Categories:
anklets, beauty, motivation, sea,
Form:
Free verse
Dancing Eunuchs Of India
Eunuchs they were, who sang at doorsteps for alms
At birth and death alike; blessed the bride and groom too.
They danced their dark bodies heavily gyrating,with
busted breasts, hairy chest and hefty forms tightly clad
in saris candy colored ,sequined and six feet long.
Painted smiles, jingling bangles, tinkling anklets
sang bawdy ballads of glorified virgins and stillborn children,
in a third gender voice-a hostile blend of two opposite sexes.
01/11/2013
Mehnaz Veetil
Entry for 8 lines contest on a native culture, sponsored by Debbie Guzzi
Note: Most of the eunuchs in India live by begging. They normally come out in groups of about five to ten and spread out in streets approaching small shops and restaurants for alms. Normally people give them alms out of fear of being cursed. It is widely believed in India that the curse of a "hijra" is very effective; same with their blessings. They offer to dance at small family functions like naming ceremonies of newborn children, weddings and other village functions.
Categories:
anklets, people, sympathy,
Form:
Free verse
Indian village
red ribbons on grouped girls' hairs
vessels rest on waist
on the way to pond
walk slowly with soft foot steps
anklets sound music
talk and laugh loudly
bangles bang with ups and down
hands unknown lyrics
adds to nature's scene
chirping birds with sweet sound sing
a living video
Categories:
anklets, girl, happiness, women,
Form:
Haiku