Best Aubergine Poems
I LOVE YOU EVEN IN FAR OFF PLACE
Fever of love cartwheel snaillike but where are you?
Round six o'clock noon, sunken is the moon gazing
behind deep orange-aubergine feather skies,
its shadowy light floods the shivering sea,
I, standing still amidst the tickling water,
my teary eyes softly wander upon endless horizon,
my hypothermic skin long for the kisses puffed by you.
Barefooted, I amble along the silky sands
seagulls fingers rushing to caress my feet but
droplets of August rain run fast above my head.
The crisp wind wafts whispering something in my ear
t'was the songs we sang second week of February
honeysuckle times gone but still my celcius sprint.
Softly, I tread back to memoirs playing a chemistry
where there catena of reactions descry revealing we...
Cleansed from river tears, blessed by suns of home,
my heart didn't surrender in wanting your presence soon.
Crossing limitless borders where our lamp is trust,
the choice to continue gleams in the name of freedom,
as we daily counteract two strategic villains:
the odd times and the eight thousand miles distance.
Yes, afar but this NOT THE BARRIER. Us baring our souls.
Us stepping onward, offering ourselves, to attain one goal.
I listened close to your voice as we talk by phone
My oh my, your tone, your giggle magnify my thoughts!
but this not enough 'cause I yearn to hold you most.
I want to ask: what is it that's not in my heart
that fate acted so long in keeping us apart?
Perhaps... Ah perhaps! This must be for us
to rightly spell the language of love...
The long distance vanguished, frozen fears diminished,
sapphire eyes cushioned by cherry color skin sings
as he stares whole from rosy chocolate coated cutis
to eyes touching tears, directly screaming: "I love you..."
__________________________________________________________
EPIC ---ONLY - Poetry Contest
Sponsor Name -- SKAT A
~7th Place~
Olive Eloisa Guillermo
10:59am, July 24, 2015
The orchid moon and I look in kind
at the dimpled ocean's
aubergine plain, meandering thought's
violet caves. I've lost my way
in the lavender vortex
of a tuberous begonia.
A July storm has passed.
Brackish petrichor lilts with the purr
of surf, now jade in lilac light,
unfolding on mulberry sand,
effervescing at my ankles,
gentle as cat fur.
This full moon buoys
out past merlot bluffs,
reposing on a mauve ribbon
between sea and plum sky;
periwinkle stars beg to spark
beside the aura of a steadfast satellite
that casts the grape of night
in fixed solitude.
The Testaments
Behold, the essence of aubergine and a trail of sparkles yields the moment to radiant reds, like a breasted robin of autumns abandon legions in crumpled layers, impaled to moisten saffron petals and chartreuse fronds,
Strewn against a capricious path that points to a dusty field in white, ebbing the tides of a wintry breath, facing an arched hall of a supreme grandiose silken veiled sky,
It distributes elegance and beauty and cast it hither for its righteous placing, neath the surge of an ocher spread of sunflowers, that escort its mentored Sun,
Offering to surf a periwinkle wave, with broad sets of sprawls entertaining a receptive ivory sea of crested puffiness, wooing anointing doves to joyously immerse creation toward its pure dawning rise of scriptures souls.
2019 September 11
*1st Place*
Fall Into Fall
~~Chantelle Anne Cooke
Sometimes I cringe when feeling the burdened need
to forgive someone who's hurt me with an odious deed.
But I cannot slink away into dark aubergine shadows
when I know it's a necessary step that I must take.
It's a Bible based principle I must never forsake.
I cannot be expected to be forgiven if I don't give pardon.
It's not God's ire that I seek or for His heart to harden
against my mistakes. I'd wish an enemy no ill-will, nor
find fault with his or her flaws, faults or their railing.
If I did, I would be the one whose mercy is failing.
Forgiveness is granted only when the askance is spoken.
It must be conveyed, not kept a thought, a mere token.
For how could anyone know of the leniency of the virtue
if it remains unspoken, hidden in aubergine shadows?
For absolution to be offered, forgiveness we must disclose.
I parked along the side of the road
where the shoulder turned to gravel.
I left my cardoor open, thinking I’d only be a moment.
Into the golden weeds I trudged
to find my favorite flower.
Bull thistle bloomed
violet,
jewels aloft on green scepters,
as rich as Sappho’s hair,
as rare as royal Phoenecian robes dyed with conch,
long stems twinkling with acid, as green as the intellect.
I will have a garden of thistles,
a court of purple pixies, prickly sprites that know all the names of the wind.
They will surround artichokes that bloom,
great aubergine tassels
that hold back the great curtain of soil.
I continued through the grass,
burs clinging to my pants like dreams,
the musical warning of the open door
fading in the distance.
March 20, 2020
Wild Country Contest
Sponsored by Julia Ward
The moon hangs bold yet serene
In its pool of molten moonlight
When the night belongs to Selene.
When the night bleeds aubergine
Into the folds of daylight,
The moon hangs bold yet serene.
The sky and the ocean convene
As lazy waves drag hazy starlight,
When the night belongs to Selene.
When the night sky crowns its queen
With stars of the purest white,
The moon hangs bold yet serene.
Her opulence lingers between
Fragments of essence and sleight
When the night belongs to Selene.
We worship her peaceful routine,
Performed from magnificent heights.
The moon hangs bold yet serene
When the night belongs to Selene.
"Immaculate"
I’d like to write something
beautiful for once,
divinely dripping with honey
and milk that washes white
like stamen juice over the uncut,
the bees all come to drink
the heady dew,
stroking their black down
over dusky aubergine-eyed
blue forget-me-knots,
the nots touched by thorns
those slippery rosary beads
coddled warm between the hidden
breasts of petulant nuns
bending in their black habits
unfettered roses
pistils sticky with stigma
covertly kneeling before their
uncovered dreams
of nakedness blanketed
in the sun's light
warm and flaming
as a forbidden kiss
plucked passionately
immaculate
(LadyLabyrinth / 2023)
pistil.
stigma.
Rain seeps into every crack and crevice
chilling to the bone
Winter has arrived with a vengeance
and summer is forever gone.
Ice slicks the asphalt, into a
glittering glistening death trap.
Here begins the slow invasion
of the unrelenting cold.
This grubby little mutt follows one day,
His hair matted, claws overgrown.
You take pity on the poor thing;
Starving and probably ill.
(A miserable pup with big sad eyes)
And leave blankets and scraps out the door
You wonder of his owners forgotten
He’s no street dog- well behaved and gentle
Perhaps abandoned, lost.
But maybe not. He’s ugly, scarred
Hairless in patches- He belongs in a kennel.
You don’t want him- and feel an inexplicable deep hatred
The wag of his tail infuriates and the curve of his snout enrages.
You slam the door.
A glass spills and everything is red.
Merlot on the carpet, scarlet on the bed.
You knock over the roses
Deep crimson of condolence
You want to draw blood, you want to destroy
You crave another’s red bloody torment
Schadenfreude, be damned
His whines pierce-
through the cold air of the night,
and the solid wooden door.
The royal blue E minor: the laments of the abandoned
You can’t help but join in song
As the wretched creature
howls expressivo at the starless sky
a symphony of loss.
Violins screech to his scratching
with trills, mordents and turns.
The descending melodic line fades and echos;
As the merciless tonic pedal of time ticking
crescendos.
The clarinets wails accompaniment;
subdominant, tonic, leading.
And with a plagal cadence, the mutt droops his tail
Morning arrives- painfully slow
The rising sun thaws anguished aubergine
And leave only tender lapis of fingers frostbitten.
They struggle; falls a familiar key
As you reach and bend
Moist; a warmth unexpected and wet
As the mutt licks your hand
tongue curling around a corpse’s digits
nuzzling his cold snout into the back of your knee.
Tongue lolling, tail wagging
The mutt never leaves.
The frost on the tree branches promise
Of how you’ve lived and grown
They shimmer like precious silver
and accent the beauty of home.
The fresh biting air,
with great gasping breaths you shiver.
Here begins a new journey
With your most loyal friend.
The French expression is exquisite,
fat succulent globes glowing darkly,
but if you're looking for length look
to the East, although they lack girth.
Yet the Greeks do it best
sleek glossy orbs, rubbed with
olive oil then laid in their bed and
immersed in an effusion of
ripe succulent Roma slowly
simmered with garlic, oregano
and perhaps a few chilies, if you like it
hot and then covered with a thick
white sauce béchamel and lasciviously
savoured with a mature rich red.
Autumn breezes signal October's arrival
with windswept revelry they blow.
Golden leaves, like confetti, flutter aground.
Bare maples stand, and at their feet a carpet,
emblazoned in russet, amber, and crimson.
October offers bountiful treasures from the earth
Fields and meadows are ready for harvest,
nourished by Summer's afternoon's of soft rain
and a wealth of sunlight's warming rays.
Orchards have matured with fruits ripe for picking.
Gifts from God in plentitude to sustain human life.
Oh, how October dances until her cheeks blush
with beauty glowing in golden highlights on hills
and in the sheen of aubergine mountains at sunset.
Autumn's queen wears a crown of silken threads
from spider webs in her dew kissed hair, and a gown
woven from a myriad of colors in her twilight skies.
I walked among October's lustrous glory
then leaned upon a stone wall to catch my breath.
I heard the rustling of wind-blown leaves
as though they were murmuring a sad farewell.
My heart was burdened with funereal regret,
but October hushed me with a lyrical breeze,
"Do not mourn. There's a reason they've fallen."
I dared not question Autumn's melodious voice,
but at the wake of dying leaves, alone I somberly sat
until darkness shrouded them from my sight.
October 4, 2021
October Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Regina McIntosh
There are many
Shades of me
They cover you
And color me
I can be any hue I want to be
Black or white
Neon bright
A darker color when we fight
A softer shade
Relaxed for when I sleep
A blue for when I’m feeling low
When wide awake, a light yellow
A range of shades for everything
When ready I’m an aubergine
I change from day to day you know
Like many colors of the rainbow
I shine brightly for all to see
Growing daily like the evergreen
Ernestine and her friends sweet sixteen
Jean Irene Josephine and Pauline
Dolled up in glamorous aubergine velveteen
Dreamt of being harvest queens on Halloween
Living it up Eugene drove their limousine
Directly to the drive-in theater widescreen
And there He was larger than life The Wolverine
With his deep hypnotic eyes of aquamarine
Twists and turns unforeseen in out and in between
For something not much bigger than a magic bean
Escaped the guillotine somewhere in the Philippine
Plenty of action all for a figurine of Byzantine
Hearts pitter patter larger than life The Wolverine
With the dreamiest hypnotic eyes of aquamarine
Back home Ernestine tossed her poster of Steve McQueen
The pristine one torn last week from a hip teen magazine
There was a new heartthrob on the scene
Sweeter than a bowl of ice scream topped with praline
Sitting to write her love letter to The Wolverine
Seal it with a kiss colour and scent of tangerine
AP: Honorable Mention 2025
Submitted on March 25, 2018 for contest LOVE LETTER II sponsored by VIV WIGLEY - RANKED 5TH
Vegetables
A huddle of potatoes on a plate
Called to the beans, “You're late, you're late.”
As all the peas hopped round about.
While a lonely carrot waltzed a sprout,
Then the beans came one by one,
Eager to frolic and join the fun.
A baritone artichoke sang a song
As a lively aubergine danced along.
Until a parsnip and a swede
Gave the call, “It’s time to feed”.
Then a fork and a spoon
Slowly came into the room.
A giant cavern opened wide
And all the vegetables danced inside.
Barry Stebbings
8/4/2016
They've been working on this for years
Inside the government
To try a replace the brain of man
With that of a purple eggplant
This idea to me sounds genius
If you know what it is that I mean
People round here might start making sense
Pass the veggies if you please
They called all the top notched scientists
And vegetarians throughout the land
To see what would be the best variety
In this eggplant transplant experiment
They settled on the aubergine
Great Brittan's joy and pride
When it comes to the perfect eggplant
Those Limey's will not be denied
They were afraid if they went to the private sector
That person would surely be missed
So they grabbed someone unsuspecting
Inside of the government
They told the low level employee
A bit of truth mixed with a little white lie
They needed him for his vast understanding and knowledge
Plus they'd be serving cookies on the side
They added a little something to the cookie dough
That knocked the governmental genius to his knees
Plopped him down on the gurney
...Let the experiment proceed if you please
They cracked his skull wide open
Where upon they couldn't believe their eyes
Right there inside of his cranium
Already an eggplant did reside
Strawberry faces freckle
in morning sun
Noses tickle
with the cold wet kisses
of orange mist
The aubergine
of plums drips
from chins
under a feather sky
Garnet grapes cobblestone
old roads
where tractors snore
as celery waves
break
on an almond shore
1st Place
Summer Standard Contest
Sponsor: Brian Strand
6/15/17