Best Anna Poems
Foxy ponytail got a sharp tongue,
her pretty jade eyes blink-blink lashes
really cut to the chase
Keep the skirt hounds on the run,
obsession scent spur their mad dashes
Her pause give ‘em all a digital trail erase
She cracks the estrogen whip ...
let cheeky fools taste the pointed quip,
if they don’t mane macho lying back down
Amelia Earhart flygirl cool attitude,
soaring pioneer spirit air-to-ground
Indie Anna Jones' outback boots
love kicking the salty sea dogs around
Never yet met a man to meet her match;
to strike her fire
with a sincere, fingertip touch
Self-reliant souls are the hardest catch,
free space desire
oxygenate a bonding kiss rush
Indie Anna Jones
is looking for the next archeology dig site
to soul carbon date
So dust off the adventurous bones,
have a hopeful heart that’s gonna do right
And you just Dr. Feelgood might
be her perfect mate
Time is fleeting when love's guise becomes sweet
When eyes bow before beauty's silent pose
To feel the soul emerge and not retreat
With such fragrant scent from a lover's rose
When hands clasp so tender a blushing face
To search quiet realms of expectation
And kiss in dim-light from a candle's trace
And reveal ecstasy's exaltation
With a breathless pause as lips are unbound
Where eyes again will lift their eyelids slow
And share breath's softest sighs of welcomed sound
When passionate tongues give gifts they bestow
To feel palms grow warmer as they perspire
When lips are kissed from surrender's desire
8/31/21 contest Anna and the French Kiss
sponsor Mystic Rose Rose
She’d kissed a lot of boys, and some kissed great,
but few of those guys understood romance.
She thought she knew what kissing style was best,
but she had not yet met the boy from France!
Into her life one day he sauntered in.
His smile was soft, his eyes as dark as coal.
She thrilled to feel his fingers on her skin
as with his gaze he deeply plumbed her soul.
When their lips touched, she melted into him.
It was a kiss like none she’d known before.
With happiness she filled up to the brim.
The young man was so easy to adore!
Like things most precious, that smooth, tender kiss
was part of Anna’s youth – a fleeting bliss.
Aug. 26, 2021
For the Anna And The French Kiss Poetry Contest of Mystic Rose Rose
"As I watch the blue skies
Suddenly turned into gray
Darkness easily surrounds
Their clouds, covered in haze.
The rain will fall again, I say
A nature's moment I dismay
Raindrops will soon touch the ground
The sad feeling, again I'll be hound.
Splattering rain, the sound that haunts
Sweet and sad memories of the man
Taunting me to remember once again
The love once lost, never be back again
Every drop of rain that falls, I pain
Each drop it falls, my heart is in vain
"Try to listen" to the rain, he once said
'Tis like a last goodbye, could not hear I said.
The sound of the crying heart, I still hear
The sound of a weeping soul, I can hear
The silent tears that they weep,
The silent scream that echos so deep.
Listen to every drop of rain
To it's agony, vain, pain,
Listen to the rain as it falls, maybe
There is your love, every drop after all...xoxo
Mamma Anna made the best Babba' al Rhum,
you should have seen me how it made me slightly drunk;
and jumping and screaming I danced to the beats of a drum...
then grandma joined in and she sang a classical song!
And the sweet cream was on my lips and cheeks,
the Babba' al Rhum was delicious and I topped it with chocolate;
everybody began shouting, "It came from Paris,
but we Neapolitans reinvented it by improving its shape and taste!"
Mamma Anna made the best Babba' al Rhum, soaking it in that liqueur much longer;
and Papa' always told me to eat more of it...saying with a suppressing laughter,
"It's a man's dessert, after you eat it, you'll be strong!"
Oh, did he really tell me the truth? No, he was wrong!
It's so very sad that they aren't here,
and I am eating pretzels and drink a beer,
the harmony that stirred their passion can't possibly return...
as they danced on the terrace to celebrate the day I was born!
Mamma Anna knew how to make the best Babba' al Rhum,
and I licked the dripping rum with my finger...not my tongue!
She spoke calmly...when she should have gotten mad and picked up a broom;
no, she was never mean and rude, or ever said to me, " Go to your room!"
Subtle feelings burst
Inside her supple breast
Creating overpowering longing
A thirst that had her wanting
Something only he could give her
Silence fell between them
When they found themselves alone
As his hand brushed hers gently
Struggling with a need to grasp it
She yearned for his touch against her
Soft hopes beckoned breathlessly
Intimacy captured on her thoughts
Leaving her with a craving only he could cure
With those twinkling eyes and smiling heart
Who taught her that his was worthy of her desire
Sensitive gestures of delight
Colored her in hues of insight
Whispering joy through her soul
When he found that her heart was an open door
Hungering for his tender embrace and warm touch
Soothing sighs linger on the air
Aching for the intimacy that is a fire
Blazing through her thoughts – a need
Reawakened by the most tender French kiss
Imploring her senses to fall praises across his lips
Stunned by the splendor of such a sensation
Anna and the French kiss brought alive inside her
Stirrings that linger, thrill and ignite
Affection so real it feels like it is thriving
Dancing in shadows, bringing love into the light
Anna and the French Kiss poetry contest
Sponsored by Mystic Rose Rose
August 16, 2021
~ darkness gleaming wisdom gleaning state of the heart poetry ~
1.2.2020
Who Flips Your Trolley Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Bobby May
Oh, poor Anna Creontic
Reduced to a poetic antic
Who in her prime,
Exuding rhythm and rhyme
Broke the hearts of so many
Including mine.
Therefore, I shall not disclose
The “cut of her jib” or point of her nose
And lest I be severely beaten
Unveil a heart sugar can’t sweeten
Say what you will of old Anna Creontic
As history will always inflate
The touch of her hand, the wisp of her hair
And the list of her suitors irate
Among those living and dead
It has never been said
That she didn’t excel
On dance floor or bed
Anna Banana liked to eat fruit,
fruit was her favorite of all other foods.
And of all other foods, she liked bananas best,
so all of her friends called her "banana head".
But Anna Banana was fine with this trait,
she ate her banana under the tree shade.
She ate her bananas all night and all day,
and smiled a smile that lit up the place.
And all of her friends took note of her mood,
and decided they wanted to smile like that too!
So they asked if they could have some of her fruit.
and she said "it's my favorite of all other foods!
-Yes, of all other foods, I like bananas best!"
and no one again called her "banana head",
they sat and ate bananas with her instead!
And that is the story of Anna, my friend.
..and this The End!
For more details, please see my Blog dated 7th April 11
'In India, a new Revolution is in the offing'
A New Hope shown by Anna Hazare in India
A new torch is there in your hands, dear Anna Hazare*,
A torch by which you are waking up the souls
Of millions and millions of our sleeping citizens.
To wake up and to remove the curses created by many of our
Corrupt bureaucrats and down to earth polluted politicians,
Such people inspire only directly or indirectly in my country
Violence, crime, corruption, and greedy coalitions.
No words are sufficient to thank you, O soldier of Gandhi,
As by non-violence, only Gandhi wanted to change the society.
God has given you an opportunity to do something,
O bold soldier
Several hundred thousands are standing with you and
Millions would join your campaign for removing the curse of corruption,
Effecting our country and many countries of the world,
All these are the result of ever-increasing greed and misdeeds of many such bureaucrats and politicians,
Such people are ruining many countries of the world by their
Ever increasing lustful temptations for money and greed for power and pelf.
In an era when the world is facing its new Renaissance of knowledge and awakening,
We salute your guts and efforts to bring a wind of change in my country.
Just keep walking with the torch of courage and hopes you have lighted,
As millions and millions more are waiting to join your efforts or
Waiting to start a campaign like this in every country,
As all the nations of the world are facing the tortures created by unworthy bureaucrats
and politicians.
Keep the torch high to light up the nation with a new light,
Our dear soldier Anna Hazare.
Ravindra
Kanpur India 08th April 2011
Anna Hazare* . Anna Hazare is a 73 years old man and one of India's
well-acclaimed social activists. A former soldier in the Indian army,
Anna is well known and respected for upgrading the ecology and
economy of the village of Ralegan Siddhi which is located in the
drought prone Ahmednagar district of Maharashtra state
Anna Karenina, by Leo Tolstoy,
approximately 800 redundant pages
of Kafkaesque scoffing
at relentless banalities of economic and political elitists.
Rather like transcribing often inebriated conversations
within all-night insider celebrations
of a ProPlutocracy Party Convention
Or, sadly, a depressed weed-rant
at the end of a long defensive policy debate
among inter-religiously woke Democrats
longing for a win/win DanceParty Convention,
like in the good-old liberally bipartisan ballroom days
Only maybe about 400 condensed
impacted pages shorter
with the remainder quite unliterally
and anti-climatically inscrutable
as planned anti-ecological obsolescence
through mutually partisan assured destruction
Drinking and smoking
through organic Earth's rabidly dark night
denying and/or distracted
from synergetically addressing
our unwell-disorganizing Anthropocene
of epically AnthroNarcissistic
autocratic-monopolistic chaos
Adding nothing more useful
or healthy
or sacred
to Kafkaesque scoffing
at relentlessly drunk banalities
of economic and political elitists.
When I was young, I loved french vanilla pudding. It was so very creamy, extra special with cut up bananas in it. Then came the day I had my tonsils out, bowls of french vanilla ice cream did follow. When I became a teenager, I fell hard for french vanilla coffee. Then followed by french vanilla coffee cream, sweet wonderful french vanilla filled my cup and the air. Then one moonlight night on a date, my french boyfriend took me into his strong arms. Held me oh so tight, I had a french kiss under the shining stars.
Date Written:8/16/2021
1 Place
Anna And The French KissContest Judged: 9/11/2021
Sponsored by: Mystic Rose Rose
Anna Redmond put her own death in the Irish Independent as a mischief - or maybe ‘a cry
for help’. She married into Mr. Webster’s hotel and worked there slave-like. Her beautiful
young face, her red hair streaming, cheekily curling, her laughter eyes sad - her husband,
boyishly drinking all the profits. They said she suffered from her nerves! They said no
wonder Tommy drank the way he did! They always referred to her as she – she was a bit
wild, she didn’t fit in, he could have done better for himself – no wonder he hit her. Her red
hair dulled in a mental hospital. Anna Redmond, full of promise, beautiful and lively had her
youthful exuberance quelled by life’s circumstances.
I treasure
every meeting of our lips.
Our dreams:
as two dew drops
melding in eternal kiss.
A lake of pure desire,
with the depth
of eternity.
This life stretches before us
shore,
to unending shore.
every grain of sand,
the first:
"I love you"
of countless lovers.
And the whisper of the breeze
"Thee...thou... and us".
The butterfly fluttering past,
with clumsy grace:
like our love,
the wings allowing us to soar.
This is the show
created by all lovers.
The caw of a lonely bird reminds:
that not all are found.
Tears slip down
our cheeks
as we remember the pain of before.
Here and now,
we live in triumph
because He made us.
I ask you to marry me and the question is all of these:
Will you be mine, my Anna?
Will you be you?
All you are and do is such a gift.
And the statement of these:
When you make me dinner
you feed more than just my body,
and fill more than my belly.
When you say: "I love you"
it not only reverberates in my ear drums.
When you walk beside me
holding my hand I hear,
I feel,
I know.
When you smile
my quivering heart strings
play rejoicing symphonies
When you are you:
me?
I am me.
For my Anna...
A Letter from Anna, circa 1979
“My sorrow, when she’s here with me,
thinks these dark days of autumn
are beautiful as days can be.
She loves the bare, the withered trees
She thinks I have no eye for these,
And vexes me for reason why.”
Just when I think all traces of you are gone,
And I should, finally and once and for all,
Close the chapter of us and the way we were,
I’m reminded that I’m not the only one
Who is, from time to time, re-visited,
Though not by you, but certainly by the thought of you...
Something found in a drawer, in a notebook, like this,
Reveals a curious poignancy, a cherishing of what was or might have been,
A tenderness preserved from a moment in time,
A possibility postponed or deferred, a regretful acceptance...
My memory, when he’s here with me,
Thinks…no, he feels with all the love and compassion
That you hardly remember you ever felt for me, with me.
Before the chemical soup of pills shut off the wellspring of our passion,
Before the descent into a chaotic and bewildering
and tragic and uncontrollable madness...
But when he, my memory, is here with me,
I do remember and hope I’ll never forget
How passionately we loved
How joyfully we loved, and for a time
How magnificently we loved…
I remember watching you ride away
On your horse across the desert,
Waving your sword in the air in farewell,
Not knowing how many centuries would pass
…before we would encounter each other again.
And with an almost unbearable feeling of déjà vu,
I remember watching you drive away
On your journey across the country,
Waving your hat in the air in farewell,
Not knowing if we would ever, in this life
…encounter each other again.
So, I will hold Anna’s letter in a safe place for you,
For when you are ready to come down from your cross of self-immolation,
To re-awaken and give new life to your compassion,
To honor, acknowledge and accept
the magnificence
that is the essential truth of your being,
…and encounter once again the women who love you.