Best Bloom Of Youth Poems
I write of love, the kind that never dies
That gleams with beauty in a lover's eyes
I write of love, the kind that conquers death
That while it lives, it perfumes every breath
I write of love that grants its loved one peace
That opens passion's gate in sweet release
I write of love that changes not with time
That makes each day a taste of the sublime
I write of love that gives no cause for doubt
That guards its treasure, keeps invaders out
I write of love that takes over the soul
That gives of self to make the other whole
I write of love that thrills at lover's touch
That melts resolve while craving more of such
I write of love that draws the loved one near
That will protect and die for what is dear
I write of love that burns as it consumes
When bloom of youth has faded, it resumes
I write of love that rivals strength of sun
That glows brighter than stars when day is done
Would that I'd tasted such a love as this
A love that speaks in ardent lover's kiss
I write of love, for what else can I do
but wait and yearn to find this love in you.
Eileen Manassian
April 25, 2025
T he birds have been around for centuries.
H ow sweetly singing, winging on their way,
E vanescent as a summer breeze. . .
B ringing bliss supreme; then gone one day.
I n your bloom of youth, one bird appears.
R adiant, you’ll soar to splendor’s height,
D runk with joy till passion disappears.
S tung by love undone, you’ll face your plight.
A las, your bird has turned into a bee.
N aïve no longer, you have felt love’s sting.
D evoted love you’ll seek as remedy!
T hough you’ll wish to hear a new bird sing,
H eartache may await. You must recall
E ventually sweet passion’s birds become. . .
B ees! How can you know real love at all?
E yes open, you must seek a faithful one;
E phemeral are the birds and yes, the bees.
S till they will persist for centuries!
FOR PD's Acrostic II Contest
Virgin Pure, Untouched By Evil In Men
Where sun has fallen down in land so fair
hides a lone tombstone hidden in woods deep.
Death had caught a beauty so very fair,
that all three - Sun, sky and wind sadly weep.
Shining, in bloom of youth and quite carefree
she of the forest glen had Nature's love.
Her tender heart she had given to me,
now her heart and sweet soul rests far above.
Weeping willows, pond where white flowers thrive
I see her wading its magical scenes.
Dear mercy! If only she were alive
instead of buried there, in her late teens!
In night dreams, I see her in forested glen.
Virgin pure, untouched by evil in men.
Robert J. Lindley, 2-02-2018
Sonnet, (Death Of The Enchanting Forest Maiden)
During the bloom of youth, in the spring of vitality,
Everything is sparkling and has a fresh, real quality.
Summer is the season of growth and rebirth in life,
Every day brings fresh dreams of conquering strife.
In the fall of life, it is time to slow back,
peace of mind and confidence—nothing we lack.
Autonomy and wisdom in winter arise,
It also soothes and reflects tears wiped by the eyes.
However, life continues beyond these seasons,
Each spirit is revived for the most sturdy reasons.
This is a calm fifth season and a bright first spring,
renewed, purified, and wearing a hedge ring.
If only the fifth season could be possible,
I am perplexed as to what this may be.
In the fifth season, would it be invisible?
Allowing a smile that you can see.
I do not require the new year to be happy,
For every post you write, I celebrate.
I do not lack gifts, as when the night is sappy,
since every word, you say is equally satiate.
Each of the four seasons is crammed into one,
A quantum season is a rush of momentum.
Alternatively, a bright or black hole in the sun,
What about the soul of your heart ramentum?
It was lauded in the fifth season above,
Breathe your last free sigh, since this is love.
The sky swirls up, and things are drawn in cursory,
It no longer observes its bereavement anniversary.
Can the brain be used to conceal this perspective?
Can time-beat insight and distance be effective?
Can faith that rises far above reason triumph?
Can love be a fifth season or a sly wood humph?
Written October 30, 2022
The Fifth Season Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Anthony Biaanco
(Youth is Wasted on the Young)
Oh, to be young again,
and have your arms wrap me
in bear hug warmth,
in breath-stealing squeeze,
as I taste morning coffee and cream.
So cold the cup rim,
and how flat the flavor bine,
without the channel
of your steamy lips.
But fiction you are, our Juliet, unborn,
mere humans find love so hard to portray,
thus leading many to their death, astray,
fear not a Romeo is born each day.
Childless children be not to death forsworn.
Why leave the bloom of youth in this dark way?
To these false examples swear not, allay ...
these foolish gestures and stay unmourned.
What care true love for false sacrifice's knife
or petal poisons made by perverse form,
live and brave the days with courage cajoled.
Oh, waylay the cowards path, leave your grief,
for grief will come to all within life's storm;
live a full life linger for life is gold.
My darling girl, why leave this world so soon
when brilliance of your sun has not reached noon?
My precious girl, why did you say goodbye?
In bloom of youth, you were not meant to die
Your smile could charm the angels up above
Your words were soft and gentle, filled with love
Your eyes could sparkle brighter than a star
Why take the hand of Death and travel far?
When you were here, we longed to be near you
There was a sweetness there and comfort too
Your presence filled our hearts with happiness,
for in your soul resided tenderness
God loved you, so He spared you tears and woe
You're safe within His arms, this much I know!
This world has nothing more than pain to give
When Christ returns, eternal life you'll live
You are at peace; we are the ones in strife
Who'll take the place of daughter, sister, wife?
The burden of your loss is hard to bear
We miss your warmth and tender-hearted care
But Death will one day die, and we will see
you rise in glory, Queen of Victory!
On Resurrection Day, in warm embrace
we'll hold you close and kiss your angel face.
I spilled my heart to you, but you don't listen.
When you don't say I love you back, my eyes start to glisten...
When I don't get a response for days, it makes me think that you want to go separate ways.
When you lie to me saying that you miss me, it hurts when you avoid me...
You don't know what I feel...
You don't know what I go through.
You don't know what I want you to do.
You never listen to me when I speak the truth, because your still in the bloom of youth.
It's not worth it to fix a broken mirror if I'll just wind up hurt.
I've tried to patch this up one to many times.
And these scars and scratches are what cause me to write these rhymes...
But obviously you don't care, because if you did, you wouldn't just leave me hanging there.
Looking Like a fool for you, breaking the rules for you.
This is what I do for you.
But I'll just stop trying because it's not worth the crying
It's not worth the hurt.
I'd do anything for you, I'd give you the shirt I was wearing, but no I'm just to over bearing.
People like you make me sick.
Thinking your being slick, hiding what you do behind your back.
A few times ive gone down that track.
But you know what? I've learned not to act like that.
Your on your own now, come in my way I'll run you over like a plow.
It's not worth the hurt, it's not worth the tears, and it's not worth the endless fears.
She is the queen of words who sits
Serenely at her desk and contemplates
How she can compose to show her wit
And put an end to their debates,
With all the tales she relates.
There was a time when her fecund mind
Whetted by the bloom of youth could bind
Her inspirations, to spin a yarn,
A touching tale so carefully designed
That life’s rhythm would her page adorn.
Her pen is poised, waiting for words
To sing her praise and clear her name.
Her chignon finds rest at her nape, silver cords
There bind. She dreams of fame –
Struck, she whispers ‘life can drive you insane.’
The pen falls plop, on her mahogany desk
She knows now there’s nothing left to risk
Except the stories that warm her heart
And it would only make her sick
If from her they should depart.
BTK is a club they join
it means "below the knee"
one of the less horriffic states
of being an amputee
The price that's paid by many troops
on battlefields 'round the globe
uniforms of camoflauge
become pajamas and a robe
They learn a whole new language
prosthetics is their word
introducing them to a world
of things they wish they'd never heard
Taking their courage far afield
to keep the enemy from our shore
losing the bloom of youth and health
surrendered up forevermore
We should be proud of these disabled Vets
they stood willing to give it all
now incomplete, missing arms and feet
after answering their nation's call
I barely knew the grandma on my father’s side,
but Grandma Owens I knew fairly well.
She was my mother’s mother; she took great pride
in cooking us up dinners that were swell.
We’d all come running when her food we’d smell.
I don’t know much about when she was young,
the names of all her siblings or
how many of them she was raised among.
Her name was Doris, and she bore
five children (of daughter there were four).
I never really got to know her when
she had the bloom of youth upon her face.
My mom divorced, and I met Grandma then
because Mom took us back home to the place -
the farm where she’d grown up – her roots there to retrace.
About two years I lived there at the farm
where Grandpa milked his cows and worked in a big field.
There was a yellow house and big red barn.
I liked it there, but not too much appealed
to me about my grandmother. She kept so much concealed.
She had no great relationship with me
or with my sisters (anyway, if she did, I can't recall).
Her real authentic self I failed to see,
and most of what I knew of her at all
were things my mother told me. That info was so small.
Her cooking in the kitchen, a woman gray and stout,
is how I think or her, and always she seemed old.
Few hugs she gave to me, but without a doubt,
she was a thrifty woman, or so I had been told,
She’d been a nurse for babies! So odd this seemed for one so cold.
When Grandpa died, my grandma was a go-getter.
She lived in an apartment. Then she lost a lot of weight!
I visited her sometimes and got to know her better.
I’m practical like Grandma was. That’s one thing I learned late.
She was a godly woman too. Hope she’s there right now at Heaven’s Gate.
Feb. 23, 2023
for Writing Challenge - G Words - Poetry Contest (grandma)
Sponsor: Constance La France
The misty evening will be departing soon,
Leaving but a memory of the summer moon;
As the sunlit halls were golden for a day,
Then Sol died of grief in a dusky display!
Moments dance by with the memory of rose,
It's petals scattering by, as the wind blows;
And days grow fervid, and the days grow cold,
While the bloom of youth finally grows old.
The lavender sky has once more turned to blue,
Yet last evening's recall, still rings so true,
And smoke drifts by, on its mysterious journeys,
With the echoing sounds of beloved melodies!
There's nothing more that I can do
But celebrate turning Sixty-two
It came about when I looked away
I always thought sweet youth would stay
Despite my growing apprehension
Father Time said “no extension”!
We know that time goes really fast
My mirror tells me that youth has passed
My eyes aren't quite as clear and bright
As when I partied through the night
So I began embracing 62
By getting a Ladybug tattoo
I could go into a frantic rage
When I think of my advancing age
I still have plans that cannot wait
Starting now before it's too late
Now I'm wiser; calm; all knowing
Can't seem to keep my waist from growing
The bloom of youth has faded away
But I can still go out and play
Things aren't as easy as they used to be
Now aches and pains get the better of me
There is no time for slowing down
I wear a smile instead of a frown
No time to wait, no growing older
No time to hate, just growing bolder
Take time to laugh and have some fun
Before this glorious journey is done
Although I yearn for days no more
Memories are right inside the door
I have my true love, and children around me
If trouble calls, my friends surround me
I have no fear of what lies ahead
I have today, no feeling of dread
I am at peace with 62
As long as I breathe there's more to do
Margi at 62
You are more than just family,
You are a necessity of life.
Youve been there for me when i needed you the most.
You were practically my personal host.
We have shared so many laughs and smiles.
Even when we were miles apart,
we still talked at heart.
Im the flower that need your rays to live,
the sunshine that i need to stand.
So many fun times,
make so many rhymes...
You're there to pick me up when i fall,
and then we made a prank call..
You were the one to show how to prance,
then you took me on that floor and danced!
We had telepathy,
I SWEAR!!!
Especially those moments we could not bear..
You are always there for me,
always making me happy.
Coming with me to the mall,
running down the bathroom hall!!
But im going to tell you the truth....
i had fun in that photo booth!!
we still act like we are at the bloom of youth.
but sadly....thats the truth.
our memories in the basement,
they are ancient!!
this is more than cousinly love.
its above that point.
we could never disjoint.
what else can i say?
youve showed me the way.
youve helped me sway.
your more than family,
your a necessity!
i want to believe
what you say is what you mean.
am i the only one you need?
sometimes it's hard to see
all the ways you love me.
you say i'm your one and only
and that you are all mine.
will that still be the case
when i'm not doing so fine?
i want to believe it will be
because you mean the world to me
and if you're giving me the truth
this could be the bloom of youth.
you say that you want me
and that i am your girl.
you want to explore me
see what goes on in my world.
will it still be the same,
this is all so insane to me.
will it stay the same?
how long can this heart stay aflame?
i crave ocean highways
and the taste of salt on your skin.
i'm tempted by all my old ways
but with you, there is no sin.
i crave the open road,
a hand to hold.
i want to feel that this is all
worth something more.
this is all worth so much more
than i can see right now.
love, oh so strange.
come inside just to derange.
thought my heart was sealed closed
but he got in unopposed.
he says im his one and only.
he says i'm his girl.
it's not just to me
it's to the whole wide world.
he says he's all mine
and i suppose i'm all his.
maybe this could be something
worth more than anything before.