Best August 1 Poems
He read her like a book
as her wistful words poured forth
from deep within the pages
of her tender seeking soul.
He lay mesmerized
as her paragraphs spoke
softly to him, luring him
so deep into her soothing spell.
He gently held the precious volume
in his searching hands
while memorizing each and every line
that danced across her parchment pages.
He perused her thoughts
so deep into the summer night,
word by word, as he sought
to understand the secrets of her soul.
He caressed the palish pearly pages
as her wistful whispered words
tenderly touched the fantasies within his mind,
fulfilling all his dreams,
until the light of dawn began to break.
On this summer night
he read her like a book…
again and again.
August 1, 2022
Poem of the Day - August 3, 2022
Categories:
august 1, books, love, sensual, simile,
Form:
Free verse
I try on words
Like hats and shoes
To see which look
Best fits my muse.
7/30/20
Poem of the Day
August 1st, 2020
Categories:
august 1, analogy, inspiration, writing,
Form:
Epigram
hidden below the echoing cold indigo sea
a mermaid dwells . . .
mystical as told in myths if you believe
breathtakingly beautiful and sensual . . .
in her cobalt blue cave . . .
she keeps gems and treasure chests stolen
the sailors dizzy with lust
lured into the sea by her liquid musical murmur
and D
O
W
N they fall to be no more . . .
and when the ship crashes into jagged rocks
breaking apart and becoming part of the sea
she comes silently beneath the tumbling waves
to take anything that shines
to her watery underwater cave . . .
where they sparkle and glow for her
she loves to touch each one -
so beware travelers of the open uncharted sea
a beautiful mermaid is waiting
to d r o w n you in the unforgiving dark depths
and steal all that sparkles
only to decorate her blue cobalt cave . . .
_______________________
August 1, 2016
Poetry/Free Verse/Mystical Mermaid
Copyright Protected, ID 16-813-213-0
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
Written for the Premiere Contest, Caves,
sponsor, Anthony Slausen
Fifth Place
Categories:
august 1, myth, sea,
Form:
Free verse
My heart sings lines of poetry
Inside my head I dance carefree
The grass is cool between spry toes
Serene adrift a purple rose
How summer days so quickly flee
Astray a breezy melody
Stir charming notes of fantasy
As 'neath blue skies the river flows
My heart sings
A chickadee and honeybee
In flights of sheer frivolity
Tossing away all of my woes
As truly only heaven knows
Soul from here to eternity
My heart sings
AP: Honorable Mention 2020
Submitted on August 1, 2019 for contest RONDEAU sponsored by CHARLES MESSINA - RANKED 2ND
Categories:
august 1, fantasy, freedom, heart, nature,
Form:
Rondeau
At stroke of the dawn as the sun is rising
Birds are chirping to awaken the morning
From the trees that sway in gentle breeze
Breeze that whispers melodic greetings
Greetings that convey comforting feelings
Taking a slow walk with musings alluring
Humming the tune of romantic lyrics
Lyrics that mesmerize a beautiful dream
A dream that allures and keeps her waiting
Embracing falsity when truth is illusive
Ignoring a warning that he's just a fantasy
A fantasy that culminates in futile reality
A futile reality she must now contemplate
Between real and illusive she now hesitates
Not ever taking the blue-sky for granted
For sometimes it rains on a clear sunny day
August 1, 2018
Placed first in standard contest #155 by Brian Strand
Categories:
august 1, emotions, longing, love,
Form:
Verse
Deep in Our Hearts
Deep in our hearts, there’s a never-ending desire,
That seeks to filleth our souls now precious pure.
This desire brings our fiery passions to conspire,
As our emotions and heartbeats merge now one.
Our love shineth now ever-bright in Heaven’s light,
As God’s angels sing paeans to our passions’ delight.
The true love we mortals find is by God’s very design,
As we seek its meaning in the deep pool of our souls.
The enchanted beauty of this true love we have as two,
Brings our hearts to the moment when they beat as one.
This true love transcends the mortal limits of this Earth,
Whilst gently coaxing our souls to their heavenly destiny.
Deep in our hearts, our souls make this final sacred journey,
As angels accompany us into Almighty God’s eternal light.
Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved
August 1, 2017 (Couplet)
Categories:
august 1, allegory, god, heaven, love,
Form:
Couplet
Diana, Nature’s Guardian
Defending purity, virtues, by preordained, destine.
With faithful diligence I oversee all life that’s birthed.
Celebrating nature as its radiant guardian
Fulfilling life’s desire with independent strength girthed.
I am Diana, Goddess of hunting wild animals.
Protector of the natural world both domestic and wild,
Camels, beetles, jackals, deer, hogs, flowers, myrtles, squirrels -
All in my magical care live wonderful lives beguiled.
Fertility and childbirth, my responsibility,
Accomplished spontaneity living, functioning well.
Reflecting light among the beasts with great nobility.
An accomplished war-like goddess guarding while lives impel.
Hunting dogs track down their prey; fearful deer run. I am there.
Staying in the midst of them observing, balancing, and keeping.
Preying is part of life’s design sustained with greatest care.
Plants and animals live mortal lives wisdom possessing.
Plundering men cause great concerns that must be soon resolved.
Wreaking havoc here on earth, plowing jasmine, balm, mugwort,
Destroying creatures, felling trees, habitats requiem.
Man must change his wasteful ways to prevent my last resort.
Mother to the animals I recycle elements.
Wildlife conservation thrives, careful awareness acting.
Take heed ravenous plundering men, lest my anger vents
And another species takes your place, last choice exacting.
You can find me in my sacred place among quiet oaks.
Cherishing my own chastity, purity makes me swoon.
Walking in my natural world hearing each frog that croaks.
Living flawless beneath God’s sun, reflections from the moon.
© August 1, 2010
Categories:
august 1, natureworld, me,
Form:
Quatrain
I can hear grandma’s voice now,
“she’s such a beautiful little girl…”
What was it about me that gave him attraction?
Only a sick old man could find sexual satisfaction-
Six years old was I when my innocence was stolen,
my essence once whole, then left in sheer fractions.
He was the prodigal man, the boy made of golden.
I can hear grandma’s voice now,
“what happened to my sweet granddaughter?”
From where did he learn such pleasurable abuse?
He was a monster at best, dense and obtuse-
I’ll never forget the first time he pinned me down,
I was so little and weak as I tried to refuse,
in solitude I wept, forever wearing a frown.
I can hear grandma’s voice now,
“she used to be such a good little girl…”
I turned nine and still held onto this harm in silence,
too young to realize the effects of his violence-
I was wounded on the inside and outside had scars,
turning into a sassy girl full of disrespect and defiance.
He would finish with me then go smoke his cigar.
I can hear grandma’s voice now,
“oh you rude girl, my son would never do that!”
She never listened to me as I carried this cross,
and losing my grandma became my greatest loss-
She turned her back on me, I never saw her again,
she used to love me, was my absolute best friend.
His harm broke us, and our relationship paid the cost.
I can hear my grandma say on her deathbed,
“sweet girl, I’m so sorry…for I too was a victim”
Why would she avoid my pain from his pleasure?
I guess she was threatened by him beyond measure-
Oh, I wish I could rip off his hands and throw them away,
my life should’ve been a gift, an undamaged treasure.
Now I live with the guilt and shame every single day.
I can hear the Lord say,
“my sweet child, forgiveness is the key,
rest assured in darkness hold onto me-
When your fear takes a turn for the worse,
I pray only My light you shall see,
always hold My hand and put Me first.
Let's talk about it contest
August 1, 2017
Categories:
august 1, child abuse,
Form:
Rhyme
Their day at the beach was much hotter
than usual. Soon Gramps would totter
right down to the ocean.
We warned him his notion
was bad. We’d seen sharks in the water.
Alone, he was happily splashing,
but soon, barely clothed, he was dashing
to shore. He was screaming,
though no blood was streaming.
Just shorts, the big creature was gnashing.
7, red (garnet, birth stone)
August 1, 2018, entered in Carolyn Devonshire's Sea Tales
Limericks Contest
Categories:
august 1, beach, sea, summer,
Form:
Limerick
Today I’d like to talk to you about how meter plays a part in
how we write a poem and sometimes in how we speak
The above lines, which are not at all poetic, are written in a specific
rhythm, or meter. Go back and read them again. You’ll pick up on
the rhythm: da DUM, da DUM, da DUM, etc. (unaccented syllable,
accented syllable, etc.)
The meter most commonly employed in poetry is iambic pentameter:
An iamb consists of an unaccented syllable and an accented syllable.
“Penta” means five. Therefore, five iambs create the meter called
iambic pentameter. Now, we’ll look at the top two lines again, this
time dividing the words into three lines: 1. Today I’d like to talk to you
about 2. how meter plays a part in how we write 3. a poem and some-
times in how we speak. This plain, literal language is written in the
rhythm used in many poems—iambic pentameter.
Literary examples, followed by everyday language, all in iambic pentameter:
“That’s my last Duchess painted on the wall.” (Robert Browning)
My rubber ball went bouncing down the hall! (Yours truly)
*****************************
“Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?” (THE Bard)
Let’s stop and buy some gum along the way. (Yours truly)
****************************
Ask me for trochees, dactyls, anapests,
and spondees. All will take me quite a while.
Request tetrameter and trimeter.
Will do! But none of these will make me smile
like writing five neat iambs in each line.
I most enjoy this well-established style.
August 1, 2018
Contest Title: Reads Like Music--Haibun-Look poetry contest
Sponsor: Line Gauthier
Categories:
august 1, language, poetry,
Form:
Free verse
Beneath a heavy weight I labored,
misunderstood by those I love and serve,
illness raging, family demanding,
expending soul and physical reserve.
Like a thin smoke quickly dissipating,
spirit tenuous, weak upon the road,
on the precipice of breakdown trembling
feeling endurance and harmony erode.
Along a peaceful stretch of sand walking,
listening to pounding surf, the birds,
tasting the invigorating sea air,
hearing in my heart God's voice, His words,
inviting nature in to permeate
my being, soothing the aching pain . . .
spirit at rest, on God's glory feeding,
I can go home, begin my work again.
Copyright, August 1, 2014
Faye Gibson
Categories:
august 1, care, endurance, family, god,
Form:
Lyric
I pondered on how I could
revive our love,
wandered over the mountains,
through the clouds above-
I needed much more than you
could ever give,
a reason for completeness,
had so much joy to give-
I forgot how sensitive lost
time could ever be,
regretting all the moments
of strange possibility-
I was sanctified,
as you lied,
I wept,
I cried-
was I too blind to see?
All the dismay in front of me…
oh, you left,
and I tried-
tried to save our love one last time.
A loss so great to endure
in such madness,
a cost paid so pure created
in sadness-
a panic of wisdom and
a relief so deep,
I didn’t want to hear you,
for your secret, I did keep.
Forgiveness reeks down my
trembling spine,
I was listening,
you defied-
oh, you left,
and I tried-
tried to save our love one last time.
Free me and lose me,
need me and choose me-
toss me aside,
a love so denied-
oh, you left,
and never tried-
to save our love…
one last time.
August 1st, 2017
Categories:
august 1, lost love,
Form:
Free verse
Here am I enthralled by sunset delight
while beholding celestial beauty blend with horizon's majestic sight
in letting go of this day's triumph as well as challenges' blight
to welcome tomorrow, filled with hopefulness' might.
Sunset colors cheer me when rattled with successive rush-hour dues
Presenting choices of varied priorities’ hues…
I praise the Lord for His interfering beauty-clues
For me to "let go" in vanquishing failure-frustration blues.
Sunset reality witnesses times that I grumble, murmur, complain...
Yearning to yell, "I wish I had the balls midst this strain
"To tell them how I really felt with stressed heart and vexed brain..."
How fortunate I am for the Prince of peace soothes my pain.
Oh, sunset sensation helps me in such condescending, yet humbling moment
As it grips my soul toward radiant fellowship-engagement...
With prayer’s marvels along communion-wonderment
"Letting God" willingly brings joyous amazement!
Through sunset rays of bright heavenly perspective
I’m prodded to be sincerely attentive
So as not to miss my Master’s vital directive
Midst efforts as His steward, to stay active.
So then with sunset glow, I welcome any intervening incident
To teach me to become more prudent
Knowing that those I hold tight with grip so ardent
May break me, leaving a deep hurt-dent.
Basking in sunset iridescence, I thank God, nothing slips from His hand
And He never needs a magic wand
He holds me within His love so grand
He protects my hair’s slightest strand.
Inspired by sunset revelations, I succumb to spiritual bouncing
Learning that I must soar for divine pressing;
Thus, there will never be any loss in letting go, but a blessing
Since I can learn great lessons toward faith*-bracing!
*Galatians 3:26 For ye are all the children of God by faith in Christ Jesus.
August 1, 2018
Edited on September 13, 2023
2nd place, "Sunsets" Poetry Writing Contest
Sponsored by Natasha L Scragg; judged on 9/25/2023
Categories:
august 1, appreciation, devotion, faith, god,
Form:
Rhyme
"The wind is the pounding of my heart.”
--Constance La France
Sound of the wind drifting through the trees
Softly, I hear it; it is the pounding of my heart
Keeping steady rhythm, while I am remembering
The times we made pulsing love ‘neath the elms,
Branches hovering over us like guardian angels
Waving goldish green banners, whispering low
Like the purring of your sighs after a long kiss,
Your sweet breath on my neck, the elms knew,
Trembling like wind in a slow-moving tremolo,
Its leaves gently playing nature’s marimba slow
Steadily matching my heart’s rhythmic cadence
Ah, how I remember well those fond embraces.
FIRST PLACE WINNER
Written August 1, 2022
Submitted to "Let Your Muse Be Inspired - R Form" Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Constance La France
Categories:
august 1, feelings, heart, love, sensual,
Form:
Romanticism
It had been twenty-seven years since the sisters had seen each other – twenty-seven Christmases and birthdays. Twenty-seven years where hurt sisters refused to be in the same room together. Their mother’s sadness appeared to them as anger and disappointment. She tried to shame them for the first few years, not changing the situation an inch for the good. They were both set on their path of righteousness, totally unwilling to communicate in any way with the sister they had cut out of their life and their heart.
As a result, their mother held two Christmases celebrations for twenty-seven years, hinting around, that she wanted them to somehow resolve this and be a family again. The feud was held onto firmly, grasped hard and fast, poked red and raw for a long time. It would have probably continued for another twenty-seven years if their mother had not fallen severely ill, dangerously toward death. The sisterhood they had cherished in childhood, had served them no purpose in adulthood. They had seven children, between them, and none had met their mother’s twin.
The hospital corridor was deathly quiet when the second daughter stepped inside to walk the corridor that led to her mother, in room 435 North. Two of her children sat down on chairs, across from grown cousins they had never met, and did not expect to ever know. No one spoke. Seven grown children, all waiting, wondering what their mothers would do. The door opened and the twins were together one last time with their mother. The sobbing could be heard in seconds as they fell into each other’s arms, and became sisters again.
The mama smiled
from glory’s spiritual realm
daughters feud now gone
Dated: August 1, 2018 Contest: For Your Poetry Journal Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Dear Heart a.k.a. Broken Wings
Categories:
august 1, loneliness, lonely, mother,
Form:
Haibun