Best Arcadian Poems
Old Mountain tales of love spin
'neath dawn's blush,
Elderberries, purple ink drop pearls
drawing me nigh.
Ah! Her laughter just like a honeybee’s dance
in the summer’s rush.
For you ignite my days with passion,
'tis morn, a tear I cry
The calm, twilight lingers as her words
soft and low
In the caress of wildflowers where life’s
tranquility forever grows.
O'! Upon thy lips such sweetness dwells
Must be God's design
Born where dandelions and wild bees
forever intertwine.
O', nectar kissed by sun untouched by
human hands
An arcadian panorama of ambrosia
upon my senses' land.
Thine gaze is my beacon in the
moonlit’s silvery velvet light.
You my guiding star ignites
for all my spirit’s journey
O' my soul’s delight
For as a life-alchemists seek nectar
deep in the mountain’s heart.
Thy love's an enchanting lore where peace
like nestling lark.
All the sages sighs, thymes' tempting lore
a beautiful pure chorus
Heather fills rolling landscapes
an untold story before us.
Yes, my love's confession takes flight
with wild abandon
In the sanctuary, a haven bathed
in golden dawn
Thy touch is a sacred psalm
a sonnet on the wind
Radiant grace, I scribe my song
on every blossom's stem
Sunlight filters through sylvan green leaves
just for you.
Thy smile, a warmth that sees my spirit
through and through.
Our love, eternal, untamed by
fleeting space or time.
A taste of heaven's dew
a love of purest and most divine.
Together, hand in hand
we'll stray through life's inviolate maze
Where wildflowers bloom
and hearts forever graze.
No jeweled crown
arrayed in silks and finery
Could display the love, my beloved
I found forever in thee.
For You are my sweet lady,
my songbird
my forever home
My wild mountain honey
where my spirit roams.
In thee, a love unbound
sweeter than sun-kissed dew
My Wild Mountain Honey
forever wild
forever true.
Under the canopy of the pine trees we lay -
from the poem 'Under the canopy of pine trees by Eve Roper
UNDER THE CANOPY
Under the canopy of the pine trees we lay.
Fervent scent gives undertow noses a heady sway.
Four eyes closed, we swallow the coniferous forest.
Love thrives in our paradisiacal protraction of rest.
Blinded to adversity, verdancy thrives in aurora splay
As our minds run into the river of sunlight to play.
We make promises — nothing sovereign outside our love.
He squeezes my hand, our engagement rings think of
Only this moment, the splendor of our crashing lips.
Our bodies envelope each other like an eclipse.
The force of nature — the arcadian elixir, its bliss.
I shall nevermore forget the chill of reminisce.
4/10/2020
Poetic lines from a Poetry Soup Poet - Eve Roper Poetry Contest
Sponsor - Silent One
taciturn springs rising
from within the quarry
of deep earth's wisdom
urging lyrical waters to transpose
while held like singing seas of living reveries
of history and infinity
misting to meld with rainfall dreams
Falling like ancient messages
into the orchard of molecular landscapes
drawn to penetrate its legacy
embedded in the rockeries and rills
blanketing the groves of dirt and ferns
teeming in the arcadian oasis
feeding feast or famine
flourishing the solicitude of springtime
in spider spun dreams
of longings in ancient oaks
merging with the ebb of shedding sycamores
in salted seas teeming and exalting
the rhetoric of existence
in musing opaque vapors
mingling into pervasive clouds
bleeding life
cached in the creche
of pastoral beginnings
of everlasting eddies
watering the garden of dreams
April 22, 2020
Rewritten: October 3, 2020
Your Best Free Verse 2020
Sponsored by John Hamilton
To Taste, Trenchant Flavor Of Her Soft Kiss
To taste, trenchant flavor of her soft kiss,
Under night skies' munificent moon rays,
Arcadian smile, touch I now so miss,
Her guileless wit, stirring soul to this day.
To touch yet again, lush lips so divine,
Feel her deep warmth that this soul still invades,
To remember waking, to dawns so fine,
Absent embarrassing human charades.
To hold her heart, as if sweet Life it gave,
Its beauty, her amatory appeals,
Gifts of Love's Truth, did this wayward soul save,
From sclerotic heart, that too oft Life kills.
To think ruminative thoughts and agree.
Such an angel was far too good for me.
Robert J. Lindley, 12-08-2019
Romanticism, ( A Blessing, Lost In Folly Of My Wayward Youth )
Your warm hands hold mine,
That with desire both shine and shiver.
Like the moon, looking for a silvered river.
Oh, how long for you I pined.
Sparkling burgundy wine, in tinkling crystal glass.
Hypnotized by your Arcadian, invasive eyes.
This moment, under clear San Francisco night skies.
That time still lives eternally, which nothing can surpass!
Your sweater, soft and dark, green like a sensuous forest.
Stop time in this place~ no, there is far more ahead for us.
We, in love, so totally, eternally obsessed.
I felt like your goddess in a golden, Greek, love-!bodice!
3/5/2021
~6 ~
Quatrain
A,B,B,A
Put me gently down, on our great, confort-rose
petalled bed.
Brush your lips on mine, warm and cherry red!
The gentle clock of time, breathes ever so softly
into the Springtime night.
Of our beautifully choreographed lovers samba
of sensual might.
To create a child born of love’s grand, memorable
Arcadian continued history.
To bring into this world a magical offspring
To bless this world with tender, loving, mystery.
12/ 18/2021
Christmas Soul Candle
You are the candle that glows and flickers,
in my candescent heart!
That decades old brilliance of which I still
happily sing about.
Now, that Christmas is coming near,
Years of gratitude and joy,
Hover with silent footstep ever so near.
The lights on the tree, but colorful
reflections of you.
Brightly twinkling, imtoxicating.
like your wondrous Arcadian eyes still do.
November 17, 2019
As the brisk morning light illuminates my room,
I feel overwhelmed by a foreboding air of doom.
Melancholy presence within every waking pore.
Is it I have been missing that someone I adore ?
Tears on my pillow were left there while I slept.
Wonderful memories of him so preciously kept.
Guarded by the night, for only dreams to recall.
Then why in slumber did these moist drops fall ?
The night keeps my secret? I miss him so much.
By day all smiles, while I'm longing for his touch.
Now this tearful tendency, I'm uncertain of why.
Remembering arcadian times shouldn't make me cry.
Mendacious vibes are now quite pervasive this morn.
Is it missing him? Is that the reason I am so forlorn?
Knowing him and his love, gives a euphoric feeling.
By day all smiles, loving him gives the affect of healing.
At midnight the clock chimes, twelve will be pealing.
The darkness of night, its my tears it will be stealing.
Deep in slumber and oblivious, I wouldn't even know,
If I didn't wake in the morn to find tears on my pillow.
Maybe in my sleep, I dreamed away all my fears.
Maybe "The darkened sky stole my tears"
Guarded by the night is it only then I cry?
Tears on my pillow, all that's left by the darkened sky.
A crystal glass brimming with fresh, ambrosial grape juice.
Some do desire imported grape wines.
No matter what, always recall, their source is God's holy vines.
I do live in heavenly, arcadian, wine country.
Occasionally, wearing, a purple see through scarf with lovely, gold leaves.
Misfortune, though, when one gets purple stains on luxuriant, shantung sleeves.
2/15/2021
~ 1 ~
Orpheus and Eurydice
Come by,allow me to rest my knees
on those sinewy thighs!
I do not feel like feeding my mortal
body!
Just want your love to flood my eternal,
starving soul.
In my loneliness~ thoughts of you
crash my thoughts, endlessly!
Like an empty seashore thirsting
for crests of cool water..you...
My musical love partner!
Flood this immutable soul and then,
With tender love and with satiated souls,
We will rise, immortally.
Fulfilled, free and blessed.
Orpheus and his Eurydice, to dance in
ancient and splendiferous Arcadian skies
....eternally!
Panagiota Romios
4/1/2019
fat muncher sittin on the couch,
cheetos bag in hand.
an abstract maze of orange
cheesy dots all around him.
still he runs from the ghost
in the punchcard maze.
the nine to five arcadian
horror is what he fears most.
SYLVIA WAS AN ‘A’ STUDENT
and Alpha woman
The Abyss was bared, and malevolently yawning,
The deep black pit of endless loss to rile
You, and you didn’t know the world was turning;
And you saw the winter trees in mourning
You weren’t short-changed on their willing lack of guile
In the Apollonian myth - your soul was burning.
Telling time too true, that spring was coming,
But you let the yellow sorrow of your bile
Flood the Arcadian dark your soul was scorning-
So, you died, without ever learning
That your Attic grace would give time its shining dial,
You did not know it then, but the world was turning,
The aureole of dawn crept in, to us a warning
We only have our children for a while
The Austrian angst in which your soul was burning,
The sense of happiness missing you by a mile –
In our Aphasian gloom, your words are burning
Up rivers, mountains, roads, with a killing style –
You didn’t know it then, but the world was yearning.
FROM IN MEMORY OF HER 2004, 2008
Let go my ash on a windy day,
From a cliff near the edge of the sea.
Mingled forever with the friends I have loved,
For all time, now together . . now free.
And I promise we'll scatter both hither and yon,
In places you'd all like to be.
In patches of broom-moss on Arcadian shores;
In the midst of the songs of the sea.
With the froth and the foam and the fresh salt air
And the glint of the sun on the brine.
My spirit rejoices in the beauty about,
Though not captured in life . . is now mine.
The dark turns the day into time for more play,
Under star twinkling gems from deep space.
Or perhaps they'll be mist and the touch of a kiss,
Of a time yet to come . . and a place.
Yes; we'll bide by this shore till the earth is no more
And the sea gives up every last soul.
Until heaven appears drying all good men's tears
And as promised . . at last we are whole.
She gathered the clouds calling their names:
“Pink bell, Honey Drop, Stardust, Sea Wild”
and all hooped, nodding heads like dames.
They lay to sleep humming like a meek child.
No, no, no, she was not playing games:
just wanted to have the sky at her side
while sleeping nested in the stars’ frames,
smiling with the night and smiling wide.
Oh, I wish could stay all my life awake
watching as beauty rested with her.
But I know I must also dream to make
my herd and her clouds to be together,
in an Arcadian glade beside a lake
where the muses are dancing forever.
VIEW FROM THE BRIDGE
From the bridge, track the ghosts of line, goods yard, Old Town Station
Where we lingered and noted the numbers of each passing train
Web of steel and of steam entwined village and town across nation
'Til Arcadian rural slow lines suffered untimely wane
Gone: the Market where cows sheep and pigs brought in telling perceptions
The images, noises and smells of the farms to the town
The tweeded farmers with leathery limbs and faces
And gaiters of deepest sheen in a rich chestnut brown
Flaxen ropes, billhooks, pitchforks enough for a peasants' uprising
Spread along the High street and over the Corn Exchange square
While Newport Street furnished inns for all thirsts' reviving
And above all, the clock tower made skyline iconic and fair
Then was school run not cosseted chauffeured, in family car
But raced, skipped or dawdled through field, street, market and station
Our little world teamed with action, unscreened, with no bar
Of health and safety; adventure without filtration
In that world we seemed in different incarnation
So are we the same people, and do we now view the same place?
Can we yet discern immortality's intimation?
The adventure goes on though perhaps at a difference pace.