Best Bespoken Poems
She writes about Fall's beauty in the rain
The falling raindrops' dance ascribing thence
Bespoken verse that lightens her refrain
before the time they met - her steps commence.
She listens to the soft and rhythmic thrum,
her love turned to escape and cloudy string
Where nimbus mistletoe fell, tears to become
Their kiss of Autumn was symbolic ring.
The first light cotton mists with summer rays
While skyward cheerful laughs adorn the land,
their ceremonial dance diffuses grays,
affectionate embrace, where dreams expand.
Upon September's sky the raindrops gleam
With half of hidden Sun to laugh and beam.
--------- 8-29-13
Categories:
bespoken, beauty, care, creation, imagination,
Form:
Sonnet
a wisp offered him a small bunch of her soul
duet of florets dandelion with lavender
purr of petals and silent reminder
fragrance in whispers and love
a window of shelter rose from her words
tranquil tender and soft they reached out
tinge of seduction and glimmer of hope
voices sore from shouting and sorrow
‘I love you from the depth of my heart’
‘my mind needs a vessel of kindness’
‘mumbling essence will heal our pain’
‘together cacophony turns into music’
calmly bespoken a hush left her lips
offered a bouquet of serene kisses
blown from faith and surrender
and the earth started to move
inaudible at first a single sound blossomed
a volcano erupted in a show of hot lava
tsunamis weaved turbulent waves
as their union overcame hardship
no scripted audition no dress rehearsal
only embers and sparks of crackling heat
mumbled desire butterflies and nectar
revealing that all will be good in the end
the two lovers threw caution to the wind
far too loud was the chorus of truth
peace sung in harmony’s tunes
serenaded balanced emotion
they smelled the sweet melody
embraced visions of sound
touched dreams in abandon
tasted promises of caress
it had started with one whisper
but the message was booming
climax repeat and crescendo
a symphony of eternal bliss
14th June 2020
Categories:
bespoken, encouraging,
Form:
Free verse
Ursus Maritimus ...
I entered your world in quietude, slipping through the granular, soft.
Long slats to feet parting the frozen. Cold of a previously unknown
Extreme, nipping, sharp, the epidermis with ardor. A Mid-May akin to
February, homeward, first warning of extrinsic ire, ignored. Hours of
Similar (sobering) revelations ensued, supplanted by days, weeks,
Moons ... reality - icebound and born of abiding trial. The basic
Elements staggering, swallowed by the providence around me. A
Vastness beyond vast, afar ... crushing cold of limitless value, each
Sunrise a new contingency for measure of my insignificance. How I
Adored you for your beauty - such reward for the naked eye, there
Amidst a denuded struggle. Shaped by eons of selection into a
Creation of perfect form and ease, as at home with desolation as
I at a warm hearth and aliment. Moving sprite through your environs,
All senses attuned to the mind's axis ... at once knowing and known,
Master of a savage domain. Every dynamism a fluid dance, every
Steamed puff of exhalation a waif of delicacy, bespoken. Do not the
Gods aspire to such? If there were deities afforded such barren and
Bleak scapes, it would be none other than you - as exquisitely
Magnificent and divine as the forbidding but breathtaking element
Around you, my brother. Yet, I fear I have doomed you, for others
Will now follow ... others who find no such elegance in anything
But graft and greed. By the simple act of watching I may have
Sealed your fate, firm and grim. So, I will not turn to admire you
As I leave ... but rather keep you forever as a phantom in my mind
And heart and longings - to let you devour my spirit and join with
You, ever after straining to hear the echo of your lonely, distant
Growl, the one that so often haunts my thoughts and meanderings,
Dark and cold in the arctic night, dark and cold in the willows ...
Deep and frozen and dreaming, of your gleaming and breathless
Beauty. If but mine to touch ... to know. Forgive me and farewell ...
Brother Bear.
Categories:
bespoken, animal, appreciation, beauty, nature,
Form:
Free verse
Elegant portico columns, fireplace frame
Fronting tasteful, demure white walls
Rich browns -- pianoforte, armchair
Muted ostentation, classicism bespoken --
the eye startled, struck
by the clear glass vase
on the mantel
stems ascending
to bold-green leaves
slightly upturned
as are firm, youthful breasts
topped by brilliant bursts
of pink-streaked flowers
panorama
Categories:
bespoken, class, color, flower,
Form:
Imagism
The claret globe it fills the sky
for landing time will soon draw nigh.
Now wake from cryogenic sleep
those who Earth's promises must keep,
our sixteen finest, bright and bold
to set red planet's first threshold.
For their tasks, specially chosen
air's thin - Sherpa gene bespoken,
brains, strength and reflex all enhanced
to give our crew a fighting chance.
Carefully reared in far Tibet
to make their chances better yet
and if perchance their mission fail
a second crew will take their trail.
Where frozen embryos still burn
to start new clones and take their turn.
Categories:
bespoken, science, science fiction,
Form:
Couplet
The solemn night's silence was
broken,
As needles pierces with a shrieking
sound bespoken.
So the growl of the wolverine breakthrough
the moonless night,
Waking up in a jolt, drenched in sweat,
what a sweet plight,
Lo, it was only a frozen case of a
nightmare awoken.
Categories:
bespoken, allusion, dream, fairy, humor,
Form:
Limerick
Part 2.
Into the wasteland he flies
To bury the souls of lies,
Beneath the leaves of time,
Dirty deeds must dirty die.
This then the watchman must do:
Step on the fingers that try,
With downward pulls to pry,
Into doom flower faces,
These flowers must not die.
--
The conquistador arrived.
He gazed at the unscathed bounty standing
Respect-less before him and squinted.
Surveying the laughing land,
He made up his mind with astute rat-like grace
And thrust with self-satisfied lust his mighty sword into the sand.
God’s word thus bespoken he listened, breathlessly.
The jungle though could not understand
Tectetan, tectetan, tectetan
Nor chose to hear or fear
This little man,
Oh thou little man, thou little man
What is your plan,
Little man?
The jungle laughed, unbothered
Unmoved it ignored
Untouched it continued
Unfettered it roared
With sparkling green verdant song to sing,
It sang.
The conquistador fumed
Scarlet red
Vino roja bottled fumes
Of smoky rage
Stomping he retorted
Thou art doomed
Veni Vidi Vici he screamed
Satisfied, mesmerized
With scroll in hand he did announce
All that is yours is mine
It says so in this paper
The King has made it divine
Mine Mine and only Mine
Did he but announce
Without a golden ounce
Of irony’s feathered face
Whose trace,
With obsidian plans to erase
Surely soon he would get to know.
Breathlessly he stood once again, the conquistador did
Assuming
The noise, ploys and feathery joys
Of the jungle toys he heard
Marked abdications hour
At work already
At hand
To make this land
His.
Impatient
Making up his mind
Marching straightforwardly
Towards the eye of the jungle
Sacking with gaze the mighty maze
Of spider green vines hiding before him
The craze of ores whose mint would course the earth
Soon to raise his rank to that of Jerusalem’s teutonic bearded men
He was surprised when he saw
Three sets of steely indian eyes
Peering through the jungle wall
And the flying hatchet hit him hard and true
And for all we knew he never came back again
“Ecab cotoch”
Categories:
bespoken, history, imagination, inspirational,
Form:
Free verse
Recognize that the world is a beautiful place to live in
Recognize how your decisions affect people within
Search in their eyes the same fear that you have too
For we are all one kind the differences are created by you
Recognize that my fear is tangible just like yours
Recognize how these days I prefer to stay indoors
Consequences of assumptions that have turned into hate
The direction this country is taking scares me of late
I am a normal person just like you and the rest
My hopes and dreams are to achieve nothing but the best
Recognize that you are creating a divide so huge
It will be hard to come back then to seek refuge
My life involves my work, family and friends
We discuss everything from news to latest fashion trends
How then are we different when our actions are the same
How can you assume faith is what defines who I am
My mind has a thousand thoughts racing like the wind
Talent bespoken, I want to be that person one of a kind
How can I achieve this when my talent is not appreciated
Rather I am constantly made to feel that I am underrated
In a country that was known as the land of opportunities
What happened to the people why so many impurities
In your hearts, in your minds I think its time to listen to reason
My people love this country but are being blamed in this region
By: Khadija Hussein Pothi.
Doctor by profession, I graduated from University of Nairobi class of 2009. I am from Mombasa but currently living in Houston, Tx studying my Masters in Public and Global Health. Mother to 3-year-old Jamila
Writing is my inspiration to creatively express my thoughts while leaving traces of my identity in the hearts and minds of my readers. Thank you for your time in appreciating my work. You are the reason I am motivated to share my knowledge and empower the world
To view more of my work: visit drkdj.wordpress.com
Categories:
bespoken, america, courage, faith, inspiration,
Form:
Couplet
The secrecy that ad-libbed by the muteness
Embraced fervency aroused by the speechless
The darkness that mildly faded by the moonshine night
He gently took hold of time
Holding her by his arm, softly he lauded
The moment with rhyme –
Three melodic words as he whispered
Broke through his heart and spoken by his eyes
An adorable smile shared by her
That touched his essence longed beyond time.
Soothingly he crossed his arms by her back
And slowly and slowly…
They adhered themselves nigher
No more words uttered and benumbed their breath
They stormily gazed themselves
Throbbing of the heart, the only fathom eared.
Blink of lashes felt upon by the adage intimacy
Bedewed by secretion when two lips sensed the legacy
They prolonged by the eroticism that shone,
He slowly and softly eased his hands
And allayed her by her dorsum, which upraised
Her desires with eternal dusk that kept on.
A kiss of betrothals on her forehead
Whispered by drops from her eyeses
And wordses were bespoken by the affair of silence,
He slowly and gently held her across her waist
By blink of an eye they fell upon abreast on the rose bed
Where the secrecy lingered by the comeuppance.
A kiss of attachment on her neck
Pulsed by innate reflex of her body
And tepidity elicited by the adhesion.
Longanimity of love felt upon by the quest for lust
Peeled by the vehemence when two body conjunct by their essence
They made love by the sound of their gratifying whispers
And sometimes a smile was shared
By the presence of affirmation and touch.
Wallow in their squeeze on the bask shed
They rollover dearly upon their ardent bed
The running away time failed to apprehend
They abstracted themselves
By the renascence of ignition with glows of love.
The secrecy then ad-libbed by the muteness
Embraced fervency aroused by the speechless
The darkness that mildly faded by the moonshine night
That actually met the dawn by the running away time
They were benumbed by the naive realism
And upheld their sensualism by the moonshine bright.
Categories:
bespoken, love, passionwords, kiss, love,
Form:
Free verse
Here I am weary in my entreaties,
there’s no one here but a man and his dog
alone among my rambling reveries
and a small libation to clear its fog.
To God bespoken that I may foresay
my own confessions at the water’s edge,
where the dull debris of time ebbs away
and harbingers of death gaze from their ledge.
For here upon this cold Stygian sea
drifts a hollow vessel its depths to fade -
a broken wreckage of a lost glory
where hope is sunk and its memory laid.
Look, all I ask and all I want from you,
Lord, is to have my cake and eat it too.
Written: January 1994
Categories:
bespoken, birthday, introspection,
Form:
Sonnet
Believe it or not ...cracy is crazy
Remains turning time and again
As one tosses coin on wind
You know eyes of Mountain Everest
These days are busy to have a look towards plain
Crazy cracy is winding not thinking results wandering
Past events are blowing trumpets
Everywhere signs of failure
May be they wise or unwise
People demand, we need cracy and cry for
Those who shared hot blood in this continent
Still are poor, only earning 50 cents a day
Forget to win war with curved swords and with spears
Leave adamancy and do clean politics to reach
Apex, with hoarse voice we give you always hot sit and
People! What do you think about them?
Poor ! they are ! flocks! only spill with driven force always
Only their blood spills and floods in the dust
To leave a stain to mother to be faint and shade tears
martyrs they are also brave just to hung in photos
It is true dear believe it or not
Truth is always bespoken clear
Believe it or not can not believe these days
Spread statement in the air is whether true or not
Cause air has been tired and has wound towards
May be south or somewhere needs one day collision with
Everest has a big chest to share and to bear wide thoughts
Right thought to fumble key at old nights in winter
As gives cold touch in finger, compel to raise open the door
dark room enhances light dim to throw life for single night
Believe it or not.... cracy is crazy
Remains turning time and again
As one tosses coin on wind.
Categories:
bespoken, abuse, grief, heartbroken, history,
Form:
Blank verse
I went to see a love of mine today.
She stood in a wonderful red patterned caftan-like dress.
Delightful red embroidery at the throat.
She smiled, pleased, as I was, that I was there.
Her brown hair cascaded down each side of her face over her shoulders,
feathering out a welcome
Her care bespoken face, as always, carried her character, her loveliness through pain,
her ability to have faced pitted despair and found that she still wanted life.
I love seeing her face.
It somehow soothes me,
allows me to feel like I’m alright for the moment.
as though softness and tenderness do exist for my soul.
Intimacy is in her face.
Or perhaps it mirrors mine.
I don’t know.
But I know she is a love of mine.
Dec 2011
Categories:
bespoken, friendship, love, red,
Form:
Free verse
Neither encumbered with
material trappings, nor money,
(neither of which I miss)
mine existence approxi-
moxy mates (to me),
the state of psychic,
intrinsic, and bucolic bliss
though far removed
from civilization distant
as thee (myopic) eye can see,
a benevolent, redolent,
and verdant pristine premise
bespoken, expressed, and invoked
to cosmic consciousness, especially
threats (to life and limb
courtesy *****sapiens),
isolated wilderness
absent villagers tsuris,
this monk thank
fully doth dismiss
homestead of unspoiled habitats
though contact with eldest,
and youngest sis
plus deux darling daughters,
the only people, whose absence
accompanies me to wince
with gentle hug, and air kiss
communing with nature
faintly conjures Swiss
Family Robinson
similarities, though this
subarctic Siberian wilderness
connotes more drastic
(ideal to me) solitude perfect
remote abode tubby remiss,
cuz this loner loathes
to impress others,
who don, and
trumpet an (all self)
important air of priss
see ness, no thank dear reader,
I revel as a misanthrope
glad to isolate myself
breathe deep sigh relief asper,
not being party to hiss
see fit, nor participate in
superficial rituals like...Christmas.
Categories:
bespoken, adventure, allegory, environment, fantasy,
Form:
Free verse
to the men in lab coats with horns like unto goats,
an open confession of a minor isotope:
I -- so -- Hope that a day shall dawn
when men no longer long
for the things that do not belong
and are, oh so wrong
for mine and your and his and her song.
Have you heard the song we sing?
Like a toad's song on a summer night,
or wedding bells that ring,
for the virgin in white,
pure as the driven snow?
No?
Know what?
The toad hoards the dream to sing
with a voice not broken
and a chorus not of croaking
but alas! he keeps choking
on the flies of his own lies
as SHE (the queen mother) belies,
bequeathed yet bespoken
to a king, comely, and oft misspoken.
I (not one to spread misgivings
and false learnings), I give you, Miss, a token.
A token of a key in a minor chord
for the song worth singing
from Hell's lowest floorboard
to Heaven's own pearly door.
Take it and run, never to show a soul
but place it safely in the hole
in your face and swallow it whole.
In your belly it will thrive
-- half dead but all alive --
until the time is right and the beat is clear.
Then you will belt your song
for the Universe to hear.
Sing it strong and carry the notes so long.
Doubt it not, for you cannot be wrong.
Know ye now
that from whence the world was frozen --
that you, my dear, were already pre-chosen
and the path for you was already paved
that through this song of mine
and yours
and his
and hers,
thou woman, through your song
mankind shall be saved.
Categories:
bespoken, allegory, heaven, song, women,
Form:
Free verse
To my dearest dear…
Waited! Waited! And Waited!
Long-time yet no reply
How are you? Where are you?
Since November you didn’t called back.
Writing for you once again
Just with that hope you will answer me back.
All these days here without you
Seemed so far and so alone,
I just retrieved those memorable days
Those days of unitedly all agone.
I just retrieved those happy days
Long back yet so clear,
I just retrieved those academic days
My friend! Day by day we became closer.
I recollected those blended moments
Spring with smiles and cheers,
I thumped my heart for you
When you shared me with your tears.
Your endured sob life
Bespoken for return your gleeful time,
Your eyes made me clear
Mewling for a friend whom you can rely forever.
I was always there and I will be there
Even if I die my flirted jokes will make you happier.
I will leave for you all that you need
Even if you forget me, I promise you
I will still win a corner of your mind.
I painted those comely sketches
Colored with rainbow shades,
An outing at the multiplex
Escaped closely an eye of your fellow’s suspiciousness.
I played those Soft verses
Rhymed by joyful airs,
Acquainted by a boozy night
I heard your voice, your confined tears.
You fell upon and I was so ashamed
Where I promised you once
As long as I live, I’ll not let you dispirited.
Since then till November
Time elapsed and I haven’t seen you thereafter,
How are you? Where are you?
I will be waiting for your answer.
My Friend! Don’t ever think that am no-where
Even if you avoid me for any reason
Always think of those days we spend together.
I promise you I will be there for you
Forever and ever…
Even though how much I miss you.
It’s time for me to end it here
Otherwise this letter will bleed with tears.
Just before I stop….
I would like to say you goodbye
All those memories that you gave me
Could you write me when you reply?
With love…from your longed amigo.
[please note: this poem is dedicated to one of my closest friend Avani Khandelwal]
Categories:
bespoken, caregiving, dedication, depression, devotion,
Form:
Classicism