Best Aura Poems
Somewhere deep inside my swirling symphonies,
In the blades of silence and the clouds of chaos,
I find you ,
The rhythm of your rhymes,
The syllables of your sorrows,
The luminosity of your limericks,
Cumulating into a concoction of violin vibrancy,
A dangerous beauty making words glide far better than olympians on ice,
It is there,
Seeped elegantly , in the effortlessly executed flows,
Your feverish humor and intoxicating zest garnished in a sea of marble magnificence ,
A magical mind of a musical marvel,
You, the aura of rhymes! What a breeze of blessing you have become,
to this bruised being that shelters a wounded heart,
to this drained dreams that fears the fire that flourishes my art,
Thank you to your weaves,
The words you wrap around me like a warm horizon,
Setting a smile to those who look upon the breathtaking creature you craft.
When my heart could no longer illuminate,
I gazed towards horizons shrouded in blurry blackness,
revealing the agony of my sorrows to the moon.
Wondering if it would gift me a beloved
that reflects within my heart like an effervescent lamp.
One that would recognise my voice,
leading me to my dream world.
Suddenly a jewel from the sky descended like sunset.
I followed its path of sparkling stardust upon malachite meadows,
so I could have a glimpse of this unseen artistry.
I will never forget the first time she called my name,
nor the tingling sensations of an abundance of internal butterflies.
There she was, an untouched treasure.
Was she the one to endow me with pleasure?
Her precious persona enticed my sullen demeanour,
as it beamed like a billion streetlights,
reminding me of an unfinished song,
where the silence in between heartbeats was her name -
the last lyric to an omitted chorus.
Sapphire skies reappeared
bringing back absent sunshine,
Its radiant rays glowing upon her shadow.
Her eyes dazzled like bronze gems.
Her ruby red lips revealed a smile
brighter than a million pearls.
Her golden locks of hair glistened,
gently blowing in the aura of her magnificence.
I'll never forget the first time she cried,
her diamond tears trickled upon my chest,
like little stars glittering in her gloom,
concluding our unwritten poem,
memorised within the backstreets of our minds.
I can still savour the taste in my mouth -
She said her mascara was waterproof,
yet it's engraved within my soul
like an eternal tattoo.
The Silent One
21 February 2022
This one goes out to a special poetry souper.
Dedicated to an unknown rhythmic ink trooper.
Her poetic pen is mightier than any sword,
she cares not for attention nor craves to be adored.
Not a daily poster, but like petals her words grow,
releasing deep thoughts like tranquil rivers flow.
Pouring out pain, portraying a life full of commotion,
she's never afraid to reveal deep repressed emotion.
Nonchantly, composing sonnets, prose and monorhymes.
A 'free verse' soul with a pure gift, ahead of the times.
Sometimes her humour can lead to hysterics.
Other times her words sing like melodic song lyrics.
From undefined uncertainties to unseen and unheard,
they're relatable verses, reflected through sentiments stirred.
Elegant as a redolent rose with that Midas touch.
Her art is like a masterpiece that needs no retouch.
Needs not hide behind metaphors to create her poetry.
Hails from an island of sapphire skies and turquoise sea.
I know her journey has faced a mountain of adversity
and living among devious souls has caused controversy.
Despite the darkness, she glows like a lantern at night.
In times of trouble, always finds the willpower to write.
When torment arrives, stabbing my heart with spears,
she's always there to ensure my mind's not full of fears.
A honest heart with the modest grace of a pacifier.
Has formed a legacy of an unassuming versifier.
Like a peacock spreading beauty - flamboyantly.
For me, the Aura of Rhymes is poetic royalty.
Written with admiration for Tom Cunningham ~ a gentle poet
maligned by one who really casts an aura of darkness
My smile is genuine and reaches to my eyes.
I do not wear a mask, nor a cloak of disguise
and I post poetry in my given Christian name.
From the hand of one it was written in a claim
that I cast shadows of dark energy around me.
Should I assume that I'm thought of as beastly?
Someone thinks that my spirit has gone awry.
I have to shake my head in disbelief as I decry,
"If you liken me to a sinister, malevolent being
I would ask what movies have you been seeing?"
Call me rude names if that makes you feel witty,
but each shines a gleaming light on your lubricity.
I'm not insulted by the sticks and stones thrown,
nor do I write anything that I would ever bemoan.
I will champion myself, my friends and my nation,
never seeking battle, nor in fear of confrontation.
I am not a troll, a gang member, or wolf in a pack,
so don't falsely accuse me. I won't take your flack.
There is no darkness surrounding my aura, I'm sure.
It may be that your malicious thoughts are impure.
You struggle with defining what's right from wrong.
Is there anyone with whom you can get along?
Friendships are important and you would be wise
to recall that poets should be a coalition of allies.
You're entitled to your opinions, and I am to mine,
but if they are different, don't moo like a bovine.
"Spiteful words," you said, my friends and I write.
Well, in this case I'll say you're absolutely right.
I've been told that rebuttals are a waste of my ink
but not a drop is wasted if it makes people think.
Think of the insult to a poet belittled by another.
One who treats everyone as a sister and brother.
Tom wrote of the bloodbath Putin draws in Ukraine
then selfish comments were made that left a stain
on his words that were written to ring out in truth.
Don't sling mud on other poet's by throwing a stone.
Give voice to your beliefs. Write one of your own.
And now, you're thinking, "You just slung mud."
Yes, I did, in hopes that it will land with a thud.
I don't relish penning negative lines of contention,
but sometimes things are in need of attention.
I'd rather write about Santa and Christmas cheer,
than calling out snide people who taunt and jeer.
Sated with savor sown in a summer past
musings are mulled with soft cider flavor
whilst caramel leaves harvest eve’s rose hip rays —
and like the wild asters
wearing the flame and fade of twilight hues
I moon ‘neath Orion’s garden
midst stars falling from comet’s bloom
Susan Ashley
October 5, 2019
Poet’s note: the Orionid meteor showers, considered to be one of the most beautiful showers of the year, peaks in mid-October and are caused by debris from Halley’s comet. Each time the famous comet passes around the Sun, it leaves in its wake a trail of cosmic dust and grit along its orbit (shooting/falling stars). The Orionids are so-called because the point from which they appear to originate, called the radiant, lies in the constellation Orion, but they can be seen over a large area of the sky.
There's a poet called the Aura of Rhymes,
whose grammar is full of poetic crimes,
but she doesn't give a damn,
shows she's not an AI scam.
Her words still enchant like charming wind chimes.
If I had to paint my aura this day.....
I'd paint it with a worried brow
crushed with marked questions.
Defeat would battle, que sera, sera
with many bold slashes in helter skelter fashion.
Within the field of greys background acceptance
you'd find a face compressed on the canvas
and on its cheeks, still, a tinge of iridescence sun
the journey of the day just begun
------------------
As this day comes to an ending
I'd paint it now with bruised puff shadows,
from each--- blue teardrops flowing.
A drooping lilly in a field of red roses.
Dejected, torn and faded patches
on a pair of well worn jeans
all these in a starless purple sky
Your beauty shines through me
The aura of your beauty flows around me
Your beauty emits sweetness in the air
So refreshing, so alluring
Leaving me high with this sweet fragrance
Your beauty attracts others
Luring them
Enticing them
Tempting them
Enveloping them
Your beauty shine like the midday sun
With bright radiant beams
Leaving my eyes blinded by this illumination
That beautiful you.
Sweet scent of magnolia permeated the air
on the cusp of a balmy summer gloaming
Myriads of stars would soon gleam above
My garden was already dappled with light
awash in the luminance of tiny fireflies
Diminutive lanterns had taken wing
in search of a mate or to feast on prey
Dancing in circles while crickets chirped
Not syncopated in rhythm, but all the same...
I was enchanted with their golden glow
Flickering sprites, mystical fairy creatures
They lingered long after the moon had risen
I dared not move in fear of chasing them away
No lidded prison would hold Nature's treasures
flitting in my garden in the aura of dusk
She rode barefoot on her
unicorn all through her house.
Had lunch with Greek wine and her Muse,
but of course!
Read her Tarot cards and knew
her world was alright.
Saw her aura in the mirror and
kissed her cat~a sweet goodnight.
July 25, 2019
9pm PST
wrapped in summer's
aura of haze
an almost full moon
alternately
bursts forth and withdraws
withdraws and springs forth
plays 'peek-a-boo'
with this nyctophiliac
how blessed I feel
how fortunate am I
crossing paths
with a living
buddhist monk
in flowing saffron robe
his face serene
gaze so placid
waves of
universal peace
rippling
as he moves
along his path
the only thing
I know
is I know
nothing
AP: Honorable Mention 2021
Posted on February 20, 2019
Breath-taking beauty,
Above brown and gold leaves fly,
Pumpkins’ glowing eyes.
Grandpa
My grandsons,
Lee, Eoin, Christopher, Rowick.
A boy needs a Grandpa,
for man-to-man talks.
To go hand in hand,
on companionable walks.
To fix up his toys,
when they no longer go.
To tell him the things,
little boys want to know.
A boy needs a Grandpa,
to show him the way.
To handle a puppy,
to teach him fair play.
To impart bits of wisdom,
he's learned through the years.
That it's no disgrace,
for a man to shed tears.
A boy needs a Grandpa,
to sit on his lap.
And if no one is looking,
they take a wee nap.
Each wrapped in an aura,
of love and esteem.
Each smiling gently,
at some special dream.
Amidst of stress and weakening soul inside the temple.
Hovering over the silence and freedom in the room.
Releasing a positive aura in meditation.
~~just another try~~