Best Compositions Poems
I didn’t answer, I didn’t need to
How did this happen,
amidst words, phrases,
stones skipped on poetic ponds
Not looking for or expecting
a touch to the heart, a caress,
yet it came
I fell, head first into a joy,
a blissful feeling
I had not felt before
You said the same,
wishes made on coins tossed
had finally come true
Holding hands without touching,
kissing over counted miles
and borderlines of snow
We sang together, harmonies,
lyrics of love from our hearts,
melodic compositions formed of dreams
Picked flowers, daisies, tulips
from the gardens of pure affection
blooming all around us
It seemed no walls,
barriers could hold us back
as we ran towards each other
Then appeared a river, wide, raging
A chasm of worry and fear
was flowing across our paths
Now a deluge of falling tears
filling, overflowing it banks
making footing uneasy, difficult
And we sit on opposite sides
staring at each other, reaching
for something that seems so far out of reach
Dark clouds roll in, threatening
but we stay, standing on the muddy shores
wondering what will become of us in this flooding
“I can’t” you weep facing
deep obstacles, a current too strong,
pulling you in different directions
A drenching downpour of emotions
saturating your decisions with doubt
as you wave goodbye
“Wait” I shout, “I will swim to you!”
But your eyes are too wet
and your heart is a breaking levee
Diving in anyway I am swept away,
pulled under, unable to breathe, choking
watching you fade as you turn away
Hope is gone, fears have overshadowed desires
drowning in what is lost,
trapped in the rapids of disappointment
When a hand grabs me, lifts me, saves me…
I open my eyes on the other side to see,
it is yours
You cradle me in your arms
and I breathe, the most wondrous breath
When suddenly clouds part and the sun
illumines your face as you whisper,
“You truly do love me, don’t you?”
I didn’t answer, I didn’t need to…you knew
"Brave New World"
In a Clear Blue World
spirits strike matches
inner flames capture
dancing magnetised
towards intimate
Shining Light
melting like
liquid diamonds
Ultra Muses
fusing bright
magic lyrics
healed compositions
mirrors merge tight
no division
hearts forever blooming
unfurling like sweet
Anais Nin’s Roses
they’re salty divination kiss
sheer delight, rapture union
hear their kindest war cry
Revelation's arriving -
LOVE REVOLUTION,
it’s a
Brave New World.
(Lovejoy-Burton/2018 Jan)
1.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eJSik6ejkr0
2.
Psalm 13 For the director of music
Matthew 14:22-33
Colossians 3:14
3. Anais Nin Roses
Two poetic hydrangea mobiles ~ happy or sad, take your pick
~
Weeping hydrangeas spill
sapphire tears falling,
drenching grey scale gardens
suspended, free flowing
a mobile of distractions
on tiny threads scattered
above clouded daydreams
Worded floating silent streams,
spinning slowly, creating phrases
on whirlwind petals,
browned edges frame
whispered wonderings
sans answers
upon somber breezes
of yesterday’s questions
or
A cappella Hydrangeas
send harmonic petals floating
upon melodic wind chime breezes,
suspended soft concerto clouds
on love sonnet strings
tuned to a spring day,
as flowering symphonies,
acoustic mobiles of emotion
bloom within a garden
of daffodils dreams
in unison with lyrical
compositions of nature’s
enchanting song
~
My late father
played gorgeous music
on his Steinway
Debussy, Ravel, Beethoven
along with his own compositions
He set eight of my poems to music
I sang while he played
Every Hanukkah he would play "Rock of Ages"
on the keyboard
The piano is silent now
His students preserve his legacy
with their compositions
Music - like poetry
can melt the heart
I sit here on an autumn day
Remembering my father
People leave this mortal coil
That is our fate!
But some leave behind great poetry and
music in their wake
Seems like they are almost immortal!
The piano is silent now
But I am still here
and hopefully inscribed
in the book of life for a good year
My father being gone for a number of years
he left his mark on future generations
by giving them the gift of music
And he left 4 new individuals in his wake
I am one
I was a fairly good son
The piano is silent now
But memory persists
And one can take joy in that!
A merciless rhythm haunts him
in the chill, indigo night
thrilling scales move restlessly
inside his tormented mind
aching to be released.
He stares outside the rippled windowpane
vacuous trees are scattered shivering
lifeless leaves swirl about in listless clumps
yet the breath of revival awaits.
If only his fingers could move again
to feel the luxury of strong fingers
dancing over the keyboard
releasing compositions
from the flaming desire in his soul.
The ache of longing overwhelms him
weakly, he hums an intricate tune
as the cerulean frost collects
on high arched windows
angels listen with rapt attention.
There is something about matter
that keeps me spellbound,
enamored to its most exquisite blooms,
oceans, forests and mountain streams.
It holds who I am, gives me shape
and form, a home, a place in which
this awareness within me
can live out a life and from which
I have grown.
I am in awe of its compositions,
in love with its colors, perfumes
and sounds, the touch of warm skin
and the sweet taste of freshly
harvested fruit. All is matter.
It is a source of pleasure and joy
and yet inflicts equal measure
of suffering through loss and pain.
But what is matter
when scaled down
to its essence….mere particles
that can be smashed apart
to decay into ghostly spirals.
Is this all I am, a quantum
equation at my core. Or is it
a Creator's gift, the stuff
born out of the act
of a conscious mind, eternal
in some mysterious way.
And so it is with me,
beside the beloved river taking in
the last light of the day.
Full of hope and doubt
I see this lovely world slowly
slipping away and wonder
whether if this is all there is
and nothing more
or will I awake from this dream
as I may have done so many
lifetimes before.
Rhyming Doubles On My Muse's Stern Command
He who Lives, to green woods explore
and bathe in glowing moonlit streams
shall find his Love, begging for more
than pale ghosts in late midnight dreams!
She who his hot passion bestirs
in its fires, warms her eager heart
asks not for gold, diamonds or furs
instead, he a sweeter path chart!
He that her hand truly adores
in her light and grace, truly shine
oft wades along paradise shores
where sincere poets oft opine!
She that in his stead, falls to pray
accepts life's wrath and its dread
as for his sins she must then pay
sorrows born, when to death he fled!
He who lives, to green woods explore
and bathe in glowing moonlit streams
shall find his love, begging for more
than pale ghosts in late midnight dreams!
Robert J. Lindley, 11/21/2019
Rhyming doubles, on my muse's stern command
~~ ~~ ~~
I Then In Silver Silence Fell
My muse cried in my night dream,
to you, I gift a lyric sweet
so your honor you may redeem
and thus your hide, I will not beat!
I wept, you are oft my sad woe
in humble pride, I write my tales
caring not which way each spell flows
thus with freedom, my true ship sails.
My muse, to this cry was bemused
but with anger great, she then rose
tis' I that you truly abused
after I your worthless hide chose!
I then in silver silence fell
and in my morrows, saw so true
I had her under my dark spell
and thus my freedom could renew!
My muse cried in my night dream,
to you, I gift a lyric sweet
so your honor you may redeem
and thus your hide, I will not beat!
Robert J. Lindley, 11/21/2019
Rhyming doubles, on my muse's stern command..
Note:
Sometimes you just gotta cut loose and let the
captive rhymes dance and outward flow....
as in verses from a past youth's meandering
and lighthearted compositions....
As in the in the dark abyss of *Dark verse* one can not be embrace its blackness for too long.
Somewhere between yesterday and tomorrow I lost my w a y -
Forgetting all the heartache and sorrow I found a way to s a y ...
MY passion is within my journal-
I starve for each new verse-
My parchments dependency eternal-
My pen has become my thirst-
Belonging to something brings healing inside troubled m o m e n t s -
Longing for redemption eases my feeling of my forgotten a t o n e m e n t.
My MUSE flows freely-
As I softy write a stanza-
I can write a sweet story-
Of a passionate extravaganza-
I desire keen senses ON midnight's twilight i m a g i n a t i o n -
My fire keeps burning with each delight of a poet’s a n t i c i p a t i o n.
THE meter can be quite difficult-
Blank verse fills my void-
Impassiveness can be principled-
My compositions never destroyed-
I sing a symphony of lyrics that reveal my intimate e x p r e s s i o n s -
I bring epiphany into my rhymes that appeal to my d i g r e s s i o n s.
Alliteration in versification-
My quill has been seduced-
Intense devouring revelations-
My poetry…a muse on the LOOSE.
Couplets with internal rhyme
followed by A-B-A-B rhyme
Originally for Muse on the Loose Contest
Judged September 12, 2016
Written: September 6, 2016
Image if one will, a field where paper roses grow,
Each color an emotion, it's variations symbolic to
Feeling felt, and yet expressed.
Compositions of love letters, shaped into delicate
Blossoms, growing or dieing within the fragile human
Heart.
A unique species of floral design, enchanting the
Raw essences of it's creator, with a mystical fragrance
All it's own.
Passions spice crimson red, romantic sensuality
A white splicing with reds undertow.
Blues calming peaceful shades of hew,
and a navy's hardened edge exposing devotions
Everlasting love in beauty's open petals of the divine.
A golden sunflower opens wide, a visions friendship flower,
Seeds cast to the fertile soil beneath the kindred of humanity.
Compassion's evergreen bouquet,
So many multitudes of description,
It is impossible to describe all,
For change is the one constant rhythm
Of life itself.
Death's black rose, a crumbling love letter that melts away,
A disintegration of thoughts emotion unto the river of dust.
Not completely forgotten,
Living only by memory's remembrances,
Of past echoes,
Left alive in shadows contrasting shades faded by time.
Fragile is the human heart, made of crystal glass,
Shattering easily to the touch, if handled to roughly.
But even more delicate are the emotions held within,
A prism of reflections.
It's light leads to the inner garden of the spiritual soul,
Where the paper roses do grow.
Imaginations field of wonders, thoughts glorious
Bouquet of possibilities to draw from.
A limitless expressive well, for the poet's ink pen,
Lightly dripped onto the empty page of white,
To write upon, vivid are these roses to the poetic heart.
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
My ornamental garden is one of the rare ones
It requires of course "green fingers"
a lot of patience and love
With complementary colors
Allysum, Lion's mouth, Tagetes,
Petunia, Soffila, Bluegrass,
Sinnia, Verbena, Surfinga,
Diligent Lise, Asters, Cosmos,
Million Bells, Pegonia
and Fuksia is just a few
of the plants that can be found
in the many flower beds and pots
A paradise for bees and butterflies
they sip sweet nectar from my plants
Nature's compositions are complex
and nicely customized
A sense of Nirvana and deep meditation
Welcome to my garden
share the ability to enjoy the sunshine
and the flowers in simplicity and harmony
25/10/2019
Sun :) - A-L Andresen :)
Copyright © All Rights Reserved
Writing Challenge, October- Flower or Flowers
Sponsored by: Dear Heart- Wiishkobe Ode
1st place in the contest
TIME MACHINE
We always try to build a TARDIS,
in thinking we would look the smartest.
But then, who's time would we travel in,
with a choice for dimensional spin.
A fragrance can take us back in time,
or a perfect shade, or taste of lime.
Our famed music is a time machine,
in compositions from Bach to Queen.
We recognize how to bring time to a halt,
by following our bliss in things we exalt.
New experiences will let us foresee,
advancing in time with our visions to be.
The Hubble is a magical eye on time,
to take the photographs of our one verse rhyme.
A brief look backwards beginning now to then,
or from nothing to something and back again.
Our future is such addictive dope,
we read in tea leaves or horoscope.
We expect we are aware with ESP,
and predict in life what's meant to be.
We're back in time with old photographs,
that mark pasts, in graphic epitaphs.
A sound will transport us to a place,
with one vibration we've moved in space.
We future trek with our imaginations,
because we see forward with our creations.
In our minds eye, we consider and admire,
with envisioned futures of our hearts desire.
By TARDIS, DeLorean, or a Quantum Leap,
Tesseract, CERN, and our Visions in sleep.
Through a Wormhole or the traces of a déjà vu,
the past and the future, are present with you.
By Edlynn Nau
©June 23, 2016
Poetry is my insanity
Poetry is my insanity,
sparks collected on flat mirrored walls,
frantic phrases floating
in a spectrum’s pulsating palette,
picturing Dali-esque icicle melted webs
and chromatic landscapes
blurring in the distance
Dancing to the demented sounds
of brain cells singing, Zappa inspired
A cappella rhythmic compositions,
ringing monotone echoes
in between Jupiter and the ghosts
counting off beat pendulum swings
on fingers and toes
Words with eyes, they see, they stare
they blink, they close,
wandering attic crawl spaces
casting neon shadows,
illuminating ideas
passed on to the next pair
lashing out as another retreats
Pulling on my heart,
squeezing every last thought of love,
oozing in blacklight ink, day-glo sunrises
of roach clip offerings on psychedelic posters,
depicting ceramic moons
fluttering midst crayon heavens
eating stardust candy…
Poetry is my insanity
and it is driving me crazy…
in the best possible way
The tiniest of silver labrets amid the corner of her beautiful elixic lips, so full ~
With a small diamond shining and glittering, upon her perfectly poised nose
These dangling rubies waltzing from beneath her precious meridian lobes, with
A pendant lavaliere; sapient sapphire, wrapped within the finest of gold
Wearing a white silk dress, cut low, to bare her feeding and full tanned breast
Bronzed reflections of paradise, her soft summers skin
Gently brushing, upon my wanting and very own ~
While as barefoot we dance, atop the radiant golden sands
Slowly, beckoned beneath the swaying shimmering stars
As into each others eyes we then fall; into the essence of it all
This beauty, while as the waves they so gently play, Beethovens
Overtures of serenities warm embrace; two hearts and two souls, entwined
Deeply within the mirrors rapturous notes of, a compositions love song ~
Taking one anothers hands gently; fingers interlaced amid this light
Making our way towards the stairs their rising, beyond the whispering shore
Candles, burning and joyfully waiting, for consecrations breath of life
Consummations rose petals of fragrance, atop this brilliant feathered bed of bright
As slowly I lie her back, to capture forever the pulsing of these beating hearts
Two souls, melting and melding amid loves destined moment; cherished
Honey dripping its sweetened nectars; impassioned cries of resoundings
Within this, utopias, everlasting kiss ~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Beneath, these faraway stars....
Is it our age or present circumstances
that see childlike eyes grow dim
or is it living within our reality years
that lend whimsical thoughts so slim
If one could ride the notes in play
through a child’s imagination
One could laugh and dance anew
around each magical creation
Into the cosmos we could fly
gliding on winged compositions
On breathless notes of whimsy chance
exploring without constrictions
If one could row a boat through time
back into their youthful days
and reunite with that childlike wonder
it’s here I think we’d stay
©Debra Squyres 2014
Press and dry; stamped aneath a logo of their own design....
This colourful pigment melting upon red velvet seals
Via the telegraph wires amid these morse code keys
Songbirds, singing their midnight songs unto me!?
Compositions notes to be transcribed from symbol sheets
Covering myself with these their, queen size needs....
Fine silks formed about the countless threads
Words spoken atop their crowned in turquoise, sweet asylums
Letter heads; bejeweled tokens to wear as shining bracelets true
Postmortum promises and then yes, we're wed too....
Pressed and dried; stamped with a logo of their own design
Two steps ahead and side to side, within this, a poetess rhyme?!
Buried between the tilling soils of her rose laden bush
Planted in a portrait that she painted afore the crimson earth
Picturesque, tangled amid her own twist and curls....
Spinning spools which she spun in gardens you see
As she cast her fragrant bouquet webs for all to be
Breathe; delusions digested through her smoke and screen!?
Coloured pigments melted upon stardust dreams; red velvet
Via telegraph wires of higher and highers, morse code me's....
Sealed into their blue realm desires marked in these; infatuations
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Black Balloons Floating By” ~