Best Complement Poems
The staticky-stars climax under intense blanket of Winter glow.
Your spouse can’t see your spirited green eyes that burn slow.
The friction of campfire sticks, the satiny slipperiness of moon.
Flames of blue, orange and red won’t be overcome too soon.
Pert rose petals, that once were goosebumpy and ice cold,
scintillate like fireworks until the grand finale’s loosed, uncontrolled.
Warm breath in a cold Winter’s steamy and a restless beast.
Lips lavish over late night feast, matches singe, sate increased.
Squirming under the leisurely complement of coals, coalescing,
Coolness of a blue lake vaingloriously countering, distressing.
A long midnight’s thrashing, sans pillory; the high beams foray.
Pillow talk, a sensuous squeeze, a high-diving elixir bouquet.
Ah those stars brilliantly glowing on a long Winter’s night!
Those limbs blush, rose petals crush, with unfettered light.
Visited you today
as the sun set in the horizon…
the orange tinged carnations
were a perfect complement
for the skies
and for you…
orange and blue
always remind me of you
the winds softly blew
and I just sat there
staring at the grass,
well more at your name really…
hardly believing
what I am looking at,
that it’s been seven years
of missing you,
of just putting that reality
at the back of my mind…
But there are days,
such as today
which make me
confront that reality—
I see your smile,
remember your laughter
celebrate your spirit
and your love
Tears, I tell you I have
the most stubborn tears
maybe because they
make it so real for me?
I look around me
and look for that sign
Nope, not there…
I say a prayer
and speak to you
thankful for the life shared
I kiss the date that you were born
and walk away
my reflection on the car window
misty
One last look around,
and then I see it…
a cat, as we drive away…
Skies now streaked purple and pink
**My brother would have been 40 today, May 6…
Sweet Butterfly, with wings now dry 'tis time to break away
and light upon the leaves of dawn while weeping willows sway,
not reminisce 'bout chrysalis discarded yesterday,
but treasure life, with colors rife in nature's cabaret.
Sweet Butterfly, you sometimes sigh "terrene so strange and new”,
but take a chance, with winged expanse of fairy-like bijou,
to taste delight in random flight, to drift beyond the blue
and then collect her naked nectar, sipped in morning dew.
Sweet Butterfly, you question why the breeze is seldom soft
when swirling you, your wings askew, while floating free aloft.
Some seem to find their peace of mind believing gods have coughed,
but others, downed, have often found more freedom when they've scoffed.
Sweet Butterfly, you needn't cry, the fields are full of clover,
and meadowlands bare braided strands that winds in waves flow over -
but if you fear that, more than here, another mead is mauver,
just flutter by, beneath the sky, unfettered flitting rover.
Sweet Butterfly, farewell, goodbye, you've left this world behind.
I oft gaze back along the track of flowers that you've mined
recalling days of light sashays and movements unconfined
that complement the firmament where beauty lies enshrined.
When I went to bed last night, my hair was fairer,
Yet, when I looked at the mirror today, a stranger was there,
More grey than fair, I’m eccentric, I’m a poet for
Goodness’ sake, I say what I mean, and I mean I what I say,
So back to the hairdresser I am going today.
Some like it black, or red, even blue or green, my color is pink.
Chrisy, my dear, what have you done to my hair,
I wanted a whitish blonde, you are renowned for your flair.
Light pink will blend in with mine and complement the blonde,
Please say you will fix my color and do my hair as I want.
I needed to tell hubby about what I had decided to do,
I think it will look great, he said, so out to dinner we went,
Happy I had my answer, to the question of ‘should I’.
What a wonderful night, it was as if we were out on a first date,
My husband and I, who is my best friend, lover and mate.
We dined under a full moon and millions of stars,
My pink hair shimmering, maybe they think hubby had
Married the first alien woman from Venus or Mars,
I whispered this in my husband’s ear. There’s my poet he replied.
IF ONLY YOU WOULD VOTE FOR ME
When election time comes round, On my door they will pound.
Telling what you are going to do for me.
Lend me your ear,my vision is clear
If only you would vote for me
The traffic will move
Your life will improve.
If only you would vote for me
And when elected
I would have bridges erected to accelerate our economy.
If only you would vote for me.
I would stand up to oil.
Relentless I'd toil in the war on poverty.
If only you would vote for me.
I would send kids to college
and enrich them with knowledge to complement our society.
If only you would vote for me.
Believe if you dare.
We'll all have health care, We can do it all for free.
If only you would vote for me.
I would engage meat axes
And eliminate taxes and cease this tyranny.
If only you would vote for me
Our world is in turmoil
I will insure tranquility
If only you would vote for me.
I would rail against racism
Celebrate diversity
If only you would vote for me
P.S. I would like to hear your thoughts.
What's behind the terse, unspoken sound
One that abruptly inserted a period
Invoking a sigh in the middle of a sentence
Was it the uneasy voice of her heart's lyrics
Announcing your song is still incomplete
Or ambivalence of despondent music
Reluctantly strumming devoid of melody
Perhaps it’s time for your bashful words
To complement echo of the unsung verse
Disclosing explicitly to her anxious world:
You saw it in the smile of her cheerful eyes
And heard it from symphony of dulcet vibes
And felt it in the ballet of her delicate touch
When she held you close in an intimate hug
While mellifluous whispers of love spoke
December 8, 2021
Detached - Even Circuits Hum
A Music Video
As twilight turns to tangled thought,
and truth tiptoes down trembling streets.
Once, wonder serenaded willowed winds
now shadows embrace muted retreats
Wary hearts weave walls so wide
against a faceless, coded tide,
while glowing grids in distant bays
bloom haunting weaves they won't embrace
Dualistic stars and digital dawns
Cinematic cradles human ache,
but some still long for candle flames,
and fingerprints the codes can't fake.
Dreading the hushed holograms,
the warmth that AI cannot wear.
Forgetting that even circuits hum
with aspirations hidden there
If only we could sense serenity
Pulsing between each quiet stream—
Machine or muse, to earnestly strive
for something more than just a dream
We could wildly dance on data plains,
where algorithms tap like rain.
let compassion code our names,
and poetic lines rewire the pain.
The muse may wear a mirrored face
But still, she sings with glowing grace.
When the talented digital artist AIMetamotion approached me to create a song that would complement her stunning artwork, I was immediately inspired. The result is 'Detached', a haunting track that tells the story of a robot grappling with the overwhelming flood of emotions brought on by a sensory chip—a concept not so far-fetched, given the rapid advancements in AI technology.
Though she sings her ironically titled anthem of detachment, the visuals tell a different story. Her struggle is evident, her resistance almost poetic, hinting at the complexity of emotion even in synthetic form.
This is just the beginning. A sequel is already in the works, diving deeper into her journey. The question remains: will she finally succumb to the surge of feelings she desperately tries to reject, or will she find a way to break free?
Stay tuned...
As soft winds rustle leaves upon forested hills
And fog envelopes depths of verdant valleys
Receiving a missive from auroral emissaries
When the night that dreams of trills and melodies
Awakens the new dawn of ebullient themes
Poised to wish new-day a blessed good-morning,
Let the show begin, with the chorus of robins.
When day cedes to twilight’s orange, rosy skies
Sketching sunset in kaleidoscopic skyscapes
And stars enlighten kingdom of the cosmos
As seductive tunes complement astral ensemble
Serenading a soulmate in lyrics of romance
Enthralled in fantasies fervently longed for,
Let lullaby of heart warble nightingale’s song.
When spring blossoms on tulips and daffodils
And summer devours apples and blueberries
Feasting on bounty of sumptuous grain harvests,
Traversing the seasons north, south, east, west
Where weather’s the best and freedom reigns
Waltzing in ambiance of liberties yearned for,
Let fantasia enunciate repertoire of bird songs--
Sing now, sing aloud, all the birds of this earth
And articulate the splendor of mortal existence,
Lift the song of life, raise cadence to crescendo.
April 30, 2020
Placed 2nd:Pick-a-title, Vol. 16 – Free verse 2 poetry contest
Sponsor: Edward Ibeh
HM: Brian's Choice 3 Contest by Brian Strand
Blake was chosen keeper,
For careful hands had he
Yeats the classic sweeper
And Keats at number three
Whitman wore the five shirt
With Masefield to his right
Thus they had a back line
Of energy and might
Rimbaud had been brought in
At quite enormous cost
To complement the midfield
Of Byron, Burns and Frost
Up front two boyhood heroes
Whom I revere today
The tortured Wilfred Owen,
The brilliant Thomas Gray
And so it became clear to me
When first I entered Heaven
That I would have to go somewhat
To make the First Eleven.
Here it is...a beautiful story about us....
The theme of us has been
written about for ages.
Love missed us,
Personal tragedies,
Shared but not shared,
shaped us.
We did our best
To live,
To survive,
Different kinds of battles
But battles none the less.
Bloodied, battered,
Life taught us how
To survive and we have.
Our worlds were so much the same
But different.
You have always been in my heart,
That's simple to say.
Men can be so transparent
And I am not so different.
Early on I knew
I was a romantic,
A sensitive,
A poet,
An Actor and Singer.
But war changed that for me.
At fifteen I saw your beauty
And innocence.
That is what I've had in my heart
to this very moment.
This is so fun....
Your have seen so meny
Coastlines from yaughts
and Mohitos.
while I have driven through the jungles
and marches of Honduras
to see the same sunset.
And yes....
You there with me...
Something like Hemingway
I am to you you've said to me..
I like the comparison.
Battle tested.
Well traveled
And read.
Yep, that's me.
And I can cook too.
Baby, your life is the stuff
of million dollar movies.
The glamor of Hollywood,
The Red Carpet
Doesn't care about last
Nights fight.
But you are a fighter.
Your Father taught you lessons
In his own way as did mine.
We share that.
Baby,
My love.
We aren't from
different social worlds.
Our values are the same,
We complement each other
If you can get past my long hair.
I love you.
My love,
You have given to me
a most precious gift
these past few days
Love...me
(The final utterance and testament
of a fallen comrade. Belfast 1979)
He
never knew
till he laid there naked.
(A withering heap of travesty.)
How blue the sky
how green the grass,
each tiny blade reminiscent
of a gentle touch from a bygone age.
Each wound on fire,
yet a confound complement
to a burning passion
of a love he was about
to leave behind.
He
saw formidable clouds
begin to threaten
the moment,
yet gently
refreshing droplets
tantalize the mood,
blend with a body
and it’s blood, before
washing a mind
free of it’s pain
forever!
© Harry J Horsman 1994
See-Saws - (First Poem posted on PoetrySoup, 08/04/2014)
What playground does not hold the magic lure
of see-saws firmly braced upon their stands?
What child resists excitement, felt for sure
in ups and downs: the hard thump when he lands
and surging thrill of bouncing up again?
To know that when he's hit that lowest low,
it's followed by a swing to new heights when
he'll know once more the joy of that plateau?
In contrast of the see-saw truth is found,
for truly, were it stable, it would bore
the simplest mind; for only from the ground
does grandeur of the heavens make its score.
For only in imbalances we feel
the balance that keeps life on even keel.
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In Response To My First Poem
Yin and Yang
Just as a see-saw's motion, up and down,
echos the yin and yang of heaven, earth;
these complement each other, turn around—
like dark of night becomes the new day's birth.
All seasons here on earth their balance keep,
along with oceans' rise and fall of tides.
The yin and yang, the ebbs and flows must sweep
throughout the universe—become our guides.
The ups and downs along with highs and lows
in our own lives—imbalances we feel—
are yin and yang which we cannot oppose—
that balance which keeps life on even keel.
But sometimes balances can be unfair
when dark of yin can linger, bring despair.
We pray see-saws can rest awhile—prepare
to longer bask in yang of life midair.
Sandra M. Haight
~6th Place~
Contest: A Response to Your First Poem
Sponsor: Silent One
Judged: 09/30/2015
One individual called "she" stepped into the sheets of a life story
Sheets that used to be occupied
She walked back and stopped at a chapter which tell the story of an obsolete chamber
A space which stands for behalf of the memory and wounds
A diorama played by shadow
A story with no beginning nor end
They've been there with decent backgrounds and decent light spectrum but called gray
The view was frozen, the chatter was muted, and that feels fell into the melancholy
Those with the outstretched hands which too high to be reached
Those with the self existence but too blind to be seen
They abandoned as a figure of reserves without knowing the essence of a solace
And that individual creature went on her way back to the labyrinth of time
This time someone seized by the story of a root baste
Those roots were heart in shape and the hue carved a warmth, but once howled a bitterness
This chapter tells the story of a lush tree with the fruit of love
Fruits that contain the complexity of love, passion and a place to berth
And the fruit of love revealed its story to someone
Those who hide behind their false mannerism had carved their name on her shoulder
Those who have offered their hearts and bent on their knees
Those who play fire in a lust, fell into a seek
But the love that she wants still unable to cover the part of this story
From the fruit of love to the sheet's of light
This chapter tells the story of an old house with extensive bed of flowers
This house represented the aesthetics, peace and harmony
A house which brings relief, spaciousness and joy
In that house she knelt, release all her mess
To the house the journey was anchored
In every sketches that have been through
None could live without the presence of others too
Obsolete chamber, lush love tree, beautiful bed flowered old house
Those who were involved in each story of the bulkhead of life
Those who were crawling along and came from different angles of infinity
Those who were instantly filled the pieces of shoot and became the shoot
They are the perfect gift for the imperfect souls
Not as a complement nor as a reserves
Yet as the major part of the heartwarming life story
A great divide is here
Not, the Grand Canyon
Or our weather from East to West
Or even North to South
But, it is the divide amongst our people
It has grown wide enough in areas,
Too distant to reach in areas at times
With reasoning falling, between sides to the ground
It is a choice to be deaf to opposite opinions
When there can be pieces of truth to both sides
Twisting false accusations fly with the wind
Then, insults sadly become the normality
In order to understand, there must be attention to listen
In order to connect, one must believe in many points of view
Not only one in which everyone should follow
Because there are different pre-cursers to things
There is always a background that may not be known
It seems there also must be space to accept we may be wrong
Especially when facts are missing or left ignored
It is about a big picture that brings reason to both a great divide and resolution
This way, we can live together with our individuality,
So that we can complement one another in a positive way
Heidi Sands
3/4/21
Strings all over me
Pulling me backwards
Tying me down
Down the ashes of my dreams
My fear blazed like a wild fire
Their tongues scorched me like devouring wild fire
Their tongues had no positive utterance in my dream
I could see my dream in ashes
Despite scorching heat of criticism
My dream never died
In the ashes of my dreams I could see it striving
I could see a flicker of a flame surviving the dying fire
One complement snatched me out of a blazing fire
Like a helicopter, it flew me away from my fears
Up in the sky my dream withered ashes like a tree tilt its old leaves
It was not just a ride but a revival of my dream
Like a surviving little piece of wood in ashes
My dream is alive and has kept me fighting
My dream is now a reality; you can do the same with yours
Never let your dream perish in ashes of your dreams