Best At My Fingertips Poems
Like Easter eggs and seashells,
I collect them
scattered dubloons in gypsy gold
Brushstrokes of verse by hands more able
to decorate, and brighten
My barren table
Bountiful fruit from other fields
As smiles compel,
As lament heals
They are the beauty I borrow
The flowers I water
They are gems of titian embers
The ascension
Of alpine timbers
They are starshine's lilac eclipse
A caravan of kinship
At my fingertips.
12/5/19
Enter a storybook tale
Where I can be
The heroine you hail
Lucid dreams of soft reflection
A touch heated with lust and desired protection
A breathe a gasp as we succeed
Join the fairytale with me
Valiant night within dark eyes
the right movement and I make them shine
like moonlight on the steamy hot spring
care to follow for a little dip with me
Trailing like the water at my fingertips
Grasp me around my hips
As close as the breeze on my skin
Whisper lies as I let you in
Lips mumbling up my thighs
bare heart exposed to the sky
fire burning in my veins
Am I a mistress of this lust or simply a slave
Trembling with desire
Take me till we've lost count of the hours
enter this storybook tale
Where I can be the heroine you hail
Young and naive from a distance her heart leaped to its highest peak
On his terrace he'd sit lips utter words if the pages could speak
Her eyes showed ruby red as held flooding tears, so very weak
Quiet and steady she kept silent cries to touch his naked cheeks
secrets from afar
immune to the world around
enslaved hopes of love
Under shadow of garden trees among a gallery of crimson azaleas, she strolls
Portrait of beauty at my fingertips, to caress her goodness, oh so slow
She flees when stealing a look upon her; does one follow or just let go?
Burying thoughts in a book and just glance down to see her beautiful glow
silent eyes wander
stroll alongside hand in hand
heartache pages turned
2/16/2017
Poetry Contest : Form H - With A Theme
Sponsored by: Broken Wings | Send Soup Mail
Today I painted a picture to
Represent my life and who I am
I had many colors at my fingertips
But I only used a few, I started with
A silver blue, to represent the calm & serene
River I am
I let red symbolize the wildfire of anger
That courses through my veins
I let black, the color of asphalt stand for the suffering
And the pain
A snowy white
Was to signify my bubbling laughter
The kind you always want to chase after
I used a magnificent purple, like the
Color of a ripe grape to represent
The colorful imagination where much
of my time has been spent
Orange was there to embody
My freedom, like a little girl
Spinning with her bright summer
dress spread all around her
A nice sunshine yellow stood
For the creativity locked inside me
When I finished painting that picture
I thought how unique, Destiny.
_________________________________________
This was an assignment that I had to do for my creative writing class =)
The ashes of your ghost still roam within a sea of roses.
Breathing you in, I try to reach through the veils,
yet to no avail.
The bitter emptiness is all I can feel.
The Fates keep taunting, teasing~
in the dead of night, your voice still lingers,
preventing slumber from taking hold.
The ticking of clocks infects my broken psyche,
hallucinations tangle me within what used to be our sheets.
Breathing in your scent, exhaling demons~
without you, the devil whispers.
Temptation takes hold,
fire flows through transforming veins.
Lilith’s fury poisons any humanity that was left.
Levitating from the bed, rebirth is at hand.
Cutting into my chest,
the heart becomes the heartless.
Electricity pulses beneath rippling flesh,
destruction now at my fingertips.
Grief begets hate.
Now watch as the world burns,
as I become my own martyr.
Racking, fracking, fricker dickers -
there it goes again stirring all my inner jitters;
my pc, tablet, phone and friends
blank screens locked immovable in place again
while tweets and texts disappear in phantom space.
Techno blab excites me
and the mesmerizing call invites me
but searching play on the blank display cueing
frustrates my mind to forget just what I'm doing
and at my fingertips the troubles brewing.
It's a slam dunk OCD call
to play games and tweet within the web thralls
lost in wavelength microwave wifi
while communication stalls and dies
and that's the truth, no lies.
Curse you internet!
My phone is my connection to the world
All my friends text me
Every single day
Influencers tell me what to think, do, and say
Everyone I admire is here with one click
Movies are at my fingertips
From the time I wake up
Until late at night
I'm glued to my phone
Oh what a sight
Momma says," Put away your phone.
You're missing out!"
How can that be
I can see every music video
Medication for when I'm sick
Even clothes to wear
Thats pretty slick
If I have a question
My phone will second guess me
Sends information from across the web
Matches my browsing while I am in bed
Momma says," The influencers are instigators and don't let you think.
All the text messages
Are repeats and stink.
If you want to see the world,
Give it a whirl without your phone.
You might be surprised,
At what you will find!"
Searching, but never found
Chained and bound
Held back
looking for what life lacks
At my fingertips grasp
But alas my life has lapsed
9-15-23
The bark worn smooth,
a scamper up.
Looking down takes my breath away.
Leveling off, I’m safe in the cockpit.
Flying the Iowa skies, way above the tassels,
Control panel at my fingertips.
Spreading my wings and charging the clouds.
Birds skimming by.
The branch cradling my adventure
is broad,
back firmly against the trunk,
sun over my shoulder.
Apple blossom shadows on my arm.
Between petals and freckles,
bright spot lights of sun
sparkle on my skin.
The petals are so pretty.
I pick a bouquet,
shinny down the tree, and
bring apple blossoms home to my mother.
I’m thankful that I’m a woman
With the power to beguile
With charm at my fingertips
And bewitchment in my smile
I’m proud to be a woman
Of genders the fairer one
With a silken soft beauty
And aura to match the sun
I’m glad to be a woman
Of creation the very best
The epitome of all the finest
By whom mankind was blessed
I revel in being a woman
Full of such delicate grace
The one to woo and dazzle
With passion etched on my face
I relish being a woman
For I’m able to dominate
To conquer and subdue
With one motion to subjugate
I celebrate being a woman
To have voluptuous curves
Not angular and muscled
But supple, with gentle swerves
I jubilate, for I’m a woman
Made as a help meet for man
To console and nurture him
Add my wisdom to his plan
Yes…oh yes, I am a woman
I know what I’m capable of
At times I am a tigress
At others a gentle dove
A woman is the essence
Of beauty and all that’s good
Men, I advise you to be careful
And treat them as you should
For women are little girls
Made of sugar and of spice
Now do be good little boys
If you want them to be nice!
YES, I’m thankful I’m a woman
I embody pleasure sweet
To be found in my presence
Is a never ending treat!
Eileen Manassian Ghali
OK men...take this with a grain of salt...C'mon! It is the International Women's Day. Show that woman in your life a little bit more love today, for where would you be without her! ;)
A smoky inhalation,
Burning desire... Lonely.
Crowds circulating, a click.
Fire kissing, my lips; Warmed.
Tangible lover or feigned hope?
Ember flickers, a wisp of smoke.
Embraces me, no feeling of alone.
The crackling, every breath; Happy.
A halo at my fingertips, mending
Heart and Soul, easing The Mind.
Suffocation no more, the crowd,
Endured.
Laughter, a replaced smile.
Blank faces and common names.
Feeling disgust, pungent smell.
Another puff, another exhale.
Angel weeping, devil smirks.
Begging dependence, but only penny.
Out of breath, chasing; it's engine #1.
Looking, searching; nothing but lint.
Frantic, in a panic... trying to quit.
Engulfed in flames, choking ashes.
Destruction, breaking prisms.
Reflection Of myself, white stares; mannequins.
Drowning, ever surrounding.
A spark, a light, an eye...
Tranquil calm, sea subsides.
Hope, serenity, an air of respite.
Ah! A light; so fragile.
Lost island, a cast away.
My lover, my friend; absorbing.
How I miss you; longing ruin.
Never again, you fiend!
I'm sorry, friend instead?
When I was a little girl, no higher then your knee,
I was given a box of crayons to enhance my creativity.
I laid out all those crayons in a long, long line, you see.
Mesmerized by what laid just at my fingertips for me.
I've held a rainbow in my hands and a unicorn with blue eyes.
I've sailed on the back of a fire breathing dragon to my surprise,
Through a purple-black sky, twinkling stars and a golden moonrise.
The most precious gift of all was my imagination that went sky-high.
Today the smell of crayons will put a grin upon my old face,
And then I'll color in my grand kids coloring books with grace.
I couldn’t live without my phone
Although when I was younger,
Since mobile phones did not exist,
I didn’t have that hunger.
I waited ‘til I got back home
To call a friend for schmoozing.*
My mom would write a message,
If I got one, for perusing.
Encyclopedias were there
To look up information.
No Google at my fingertips –
That was the situation.
A Kodak camera using film
Took photos that I needed.
Alarm clocks woke me up
So my anxiety receded.
Each application on my phone –
The games and WAZE and weather –
Are things I never had on hand,
At least not all together.
I lived without them easily,
Not feeling discontented
Until, of course, the year in which
The iPhone was invented!
*chatting, shooting the breeze
I have just been confounded by nature on so many counts. I have been commenting on bumblebees not being seen in any quantity over most of the month, and today two species. Not abundant, but present, and pleasantly surprised I was. Another flying busybody not seen all summer, the common wasp, just the one, a welcomed visitor, a gardeners friend, many a plant it inadvertently defends in search of sustenance. Like insatiable caterpillars, and aphid or two, a job well done I’m telling you. A dragonfly, another hungry invertebrate diner. Then beautiful flitter, flutter, butterflies, green veined, large and small cabbage white, small tortoiseshell, speckled wood, the day for them very good. Hoverflies, or flower flies, depending on which side of the pond you're from, some beauts you will see, as you peruse my photography.
nature surprises
whatever time of year
unwrapped presents
Now for a blaze of colour, flowers, natures August glory. Indeed my horticultural favourites, what? Why did I not say passion? Well, you’ll see for indeed I had both the flower and the fruit, both preceded, yes, by how I feel passion. Beauty at my fingertips, a fuchsia, inverted, a view not often seen. So many colours, August has done itself proud, come visit if you crawl, fly, or slither, humans not allowed.
dusk… hark the frog croak
swallows fill the air
silent smooth newts
Adorable-angel. Mild.
Charmed with golden lips,
The world at my fingertips,
Clever. Classy. Curious.
Beautiful. Bubbly-brainchild.
© April 12, 2011
Dane Smith-Johnsen
Caption: I Am Me, Linda-Marie