Best Blank Poems
To appreciate our planet,
begin with its snowcapped mountains:
where sunbeams morph crystals of ice
into gems of glistening light.
See pink clouds hover in the skies,
afloat on a vista of blue:
and a setting sun smear scarlet,
onto puffs of marshmallow white.
And jungles, at its equator:
create a sash of vibrant greens;
while burnt sands ripple Earth's deserts,
with shifting dunes of tans and creams.
Watch Earth's leafy forests change from
deciduous to evergreen:
and tundra, pitted with blue lakes,
fade to stretches of virgin snow.
And volcanoes erupt in flames
spewing plumes of ebony smoke:
as lava bleeds from gaping wounds,
while giving birth to molten Earth.
See cobalt and aquamarine
waves, crested with white foamy froth:
and two tilted poles, capped in ice,
sparkle, like crystalline jewels.
View it from afar, as it twirls
within the vacuum of space:
like a phantasmagorical
cerulean marble: called Earth.
When splendor of love spun dreams ecstatic
Musings of fantasy waltzed joyous themes
On blossoms of meadows in prime of spring
And giggles of streams donning green prairies
I felt your presence my eager beats crooned
When halo of the moon ravished our mood
As melodic rhythms inflamed doting hearts
And voice of hot passion blazed our romance
You were sweet life that I cheerfully claimed
And I was to you what your triumph meant
But feelings euphoric soon lost their edge
When in winds of change vows of youth drifted
I saw you go there where lonesome souls cry
Where emotions despised strife of pale sighs
When day’s silence often filled awkward void
And haze of nights we spent gazing gray skies
When dawns soon arose enveloped in shroud
Love too got masked, cloaked in stygian clouds
And allure, once acclaimed, began to fade
As contempt of sameness dwindled our flames
As you leave this dream, dear, you know it too
No longer the birds choose to croon your tune
They are searching someone they loved and knew
The one they once wooed, who used to be you
January 27, 2021
Poem of the day on January 28, 2020
Placed 1st: Watered-down juice poetry contest
Sponsor: Edward Ibeh
Ten syllables per line (howmanysyllables.com)
In primrose twilight, summer is still near.
She whispers in my ear; I hear her in
the one lone owl that hoots to only me.
I wake to find her shining through the clouds -
though breathing not so warmly on my cheek.
I glimpse her waning smile as in a field
I dance to soundless music in her sun.
My mind goes wandering, and in the breeze
I hear her sigh, for she is lingering
within the scent of asters that I pluck.
I’m hanging on to that one glint I see
of her before me in gold glitter dusk.
But in the cries of geese across the sky,
she calls goodbye, and sweet is her demise.
Dec. 2, 2016
for the Blank Verse Poetry Contest of Janice Canerdy
How brave the amaryllis is
emerging naked from the soil,
an umber golden spear to pierce
the heresy of August air.
I am not brave like pilgrim bulbs,
though planted fifty years ago,
still sending offspring to the sky
determined in a hostile sphere
to brave remorseless elements
and kiss the hummingbird in flight
with coronets of newborn pink
that preach the coming of the light.
I am the baptist of the leaves
that peer above the April soil
and tendril hope in emerald verse
to cleanse the pagan garden dirt,
but only lay the nest of that
which must come later. I regret
I'm not the swan of human myth
that floats poetic on a lake
then sings my one seraphic note
upon my death. Indeed I am
but flesh that dies before the bloom
which glows an iridescent psalm.
8/1/19
Callused fingers press vibrating strings,
drawing passion from a violin.
And with burnished wood snug to his cheek,
amplifies what he feels in his heart.
Subtle notes saturate my being
as crying strings elicit feelings.
And expounding on love and desire,
music stirs the imagination.
His bow hangs, like a lingering kiss
savoring the taste of ecstasy.
And with a tear trickling down his cheek,
he unleashes unbridled fervor.
Combining hope with pangs of rapture
sound slips the bounds of reality.
And each vibe resonates in my heart,
reigniting passion's dormant flame.
As callused fingers tug my heartstrings
I've never before felt so alive.
And in this state of exaltation,
I feel my pulse race, and my heart pound.
Beauty... A thing everyone see's
But in who...beauty in me?
Real beauty is not seen
But real beauty is the goodness that you feel.
Beauty...all about looks nowadays
But real beauty is in what you say.
Beauty...a strong word to say
But we all have it in a way...
I’ve decided to be rid of some things:
a moth-holed sequined dress with bitter tags,
the weeping journal of ennui and pain,
the mocking trophy case of trophied dust,
proud calligraphed to-do lists left unchecked.
Let them shout accusations from the curb!
February 20, 2019
Dark hour of morning green and jealous sun.
Flag’s red, white, and blue leans over the porch.
Oak branches, bored, and skeleton but wood.
The leaves too still, no breath of life, no sigh.
M a h o g a n y - s a t u r a t e d f l o w e r s
in frame with inky stems, ebonic blend.
The missing link between Winter and Spring
does spread its wings, still life below the clouds.
Oh! I hear it! Oh! I knew it! The rain
o b s i d i a n does wake - the s h a t t e r i n g,
a m e l a n c h o l y roar, a s i l e n t pour.
There is hope fulness, hope lessness in it.
A tediousness-grace, beside next day.
A full out vortex burst of rosy cheeks,
this day tempers. The birds concur with me.
5/12/2023
Nightbound Winter Reverie
*******
Panagiota Romios
Lost in a frigid forest, till you took my hand.
A large, black watch diamond afghan, you wrapped me in.
The strength of your sinuous thighs helped me stand.
The flickering stars breathed their own fire,
Magic, to me, shivering with thee.
Was this perchance a dream?
All those moonlit icicles glistening like rainbows from whispering trees.
The owl's eyes smiled and danced in brilliant ecstasy.
As we walked on crunchy snow,
My heart carved golden by your gallantry. .
How calm, I was in this frozen desert.
We spoke not a word, but forged on together.
This phantasmagoric mix of ice and snow.
You, my mystical dream and snow-lit sensation.
My symphonnic heart ,my winter soliloquy
11-22-2020
9:30 a.m.
Fall and
red yellowing
leaves in the trees
an old man sitting
on a bench
watches them
fall
and thinks of his youth
a youth
sitting on a bench
looking into his iPhone
simulates the falling
red yellowing leaves
and googles
the future
of trees
What goes up must come down.
No colors can define who you are.
You may own a cart or limousine.
We'll still reach the end when it is near.
I may be poor today and eat from trash.
Tomorrow, you can't tell. I'll earn some cash.
The bed where you lie is soft and wide.
I sleep at a sidewalk and the stars are my lamp.
You wake up each morn' with a feast on your table
While we are scavenging to fill stomachs when we're able.
Our destiny isn't written in the stars.
We work for a living to thrive in this life.
Be thankful every morning you witness the sun
And pray tonight that no one lives same as I.
Wheels come in full circle,rolling round and round.
Today you'll be on top,
I am watching from the ground.
Let us bear in our minds that we are better than birds.
Our loving Father ensures each mouth is fed.
Not even the smallest details can pass by His eyes.
So plant a seed of kindness and reap a better life.
sponsor:FRANK H.
name of
contest: SHAKESPEARE
*5th Place winner
When a heaven cracks and stars go to sleep
Morning so incredibly quiet -
A peaceful morning - the sun's rays meet my gaze
I listen to the peace - to its eternal rest - and I think
that this moment must forever be in my heart
My eyes filled with clear and clean blue sky
So beautiful quiet morning - a fjord bright as a mirror
. . . I'm missing my words
Happiness rustling through the blood
and awakens my senses
I float among the clouds and angels
picks diamonds like they were candy
The sun glows in all its glory
The words are no longer in my power
24.04.2014
A-L Andresen :)
Opened like a morning leaf
exposed beneath the moon,
Resting in the tentacles
of a clouded ink coccoon.
Wringing hands now rest at peace-
the solitude of night,
a lantern in the wilderness
the miracle of flight.
Dancing on the tabletops
or falling from a swing,
is noticing the networking
of every living thing.
Observation is the art
that shows a single frame,
experience will turn to stone
the given and the gained.
A time I still remember- Christmas day
in 'fifty-three; I was age fourteen then,
and I recall those very special hours
at home, so cozy- warm with my loved ones
of many generations, happily
around the sparkling tree with old-time trim
of bubble lights, glass balls, and Christmas songs
playing softly on the record player.
Extended family- my mom and dad,
grandparents; brother, cousins, uncles, aunts-
spent happy hours, and such a blessed time
was shared as peace and love were felt by all.
It was perhaps the only year we were
together in one place for Christmas day.
I keep that time of family delight
in memories that fill my heart- for some
there on that day, so special in my thoughts,
are dearly missed, no longer here with us-
they fly with angel wings, look down from high
above in Christmas past, with joy and love-
as I, once the youngest- now the oldest
generation, carry on that spirit
and make traditions last- to someday be
my children and grandchildren’s Christmas past.
WHERE THE CITY FOLK LIVE
At the confluence of the cultures
Where the politics ebb and flow
The tide of humanity crashes
Against their collective soul
The spires of religions
And posters of beliefs
Crush against each other
Through the weave of city streets
Registered colours of commerce
And trade mark tags of youth
Line the valleys of glass and steel
On floor, and wall, and roof
The constant clangs of progress
Idle growls of restricted motion
Drift across the green spaces
Invading every moment
The scent of communal sweat
Wafts upon the breeze
From the fires of exotic dishes
And the fumes of commercial needs
Feel free to swim the city
Frolic in the human flow
But be aware of the waves that break
Against your precious soul