Best Connotations Poems
When life becomes confusing,
my only saviour is my
simple musing.
Susurration of sighs,
reflect sands of time,
like an unbalanced hourglass.
As words lose
innocent connotations
i drift into my
silent reverie.
Wild fires no longer rage,
rain perishes like a drought
who knows what winds may come and go.
Motionless mind agrees to a ceasefire,
with my apprehensive heart.
Cumulonimbus clouds clear,
sky is like a fresh page.
Simple sun shines - scintillating,
illuminating an enchanting rainbow.
Horizons reflect like stained glass windows
Path clears before me,
as I bask in the brisk breeze.
Refreshing wise winds soothe.
as zephyrs heal tender wounds.
I see smoky mountains up ahead,
but I believe I can conquer them
as pain is no longer my companion.
Simple Musing
Silent One
27 February 2019
Categories:
connotations, analogy, deep, life,
Form:
Free verse
Extrovert eyes express cimmerian connotations,
hidden within silent chambers of an introvert mind.
Thoughts twist and turn, but disguise frustrations,
as a melancholic heart struggles to remain kind.
Drained by energies from those who fail to understand,
soul seeks solitude to energise back into life,
Searching for a comfort zone in the promised land,
before insanity cuts deeper than a poisoned knife.
Confined to dogmatic chains results in confusion,
as faith becomes an enemy within critical cultures.
Torn between paradise and social seclusion,
soul seeks solitude from vociferous vultures.
Complicated compromises mean hearts will be broken,
yet introvert wings yearn to be free so they can soar.
Life is a balance of words voiced and left unspoken,
if only it was as simple as walking through that door.
The Silent One
Simple Musings
18 July 2018
Categories:
connotations, angst, anxiety, loss,
Form:
Rhyme
When life becomes confusing,
my only saviour is my
simple musing.
Twilight shimmers in orange,
red clouds float above,
preparing for blood rain.
Lost to ponder,
I contemplate and wonder
why the symphonic sky
showcases shadows of ghosts
as a
susurration of sighs,
reflect sands of time,
like an unbalanced hourglass.
As words lose
innocent connotations
I find no use for speech.
I drift into my
silent reverie -
but release through poetry.
Wild fires no longer rage,
rain perishes like a drought,
but the smell of ash remains
who knows what winds may come and go
and what they will bring and take.
Motionless mind agrees to a ceasefire,
with my apprehensive heart.
Cumulonimbus clouds clear,
sky is like a fresh sapphire page.
Simple sun shines - scintillating,
illuminating an enchanting rainbow.
Horizons reflect like stained glass windows.
Path clears before me,
as I bask in the brisk breeze.
Refreshing wise winds soothe,
as zephyrs heal tender wounds.
I see smoky mountains up ahead,
but I believe I can conquer them
as pain is no longer my companion.
Categories:
connotations, emotions, how i feel,
Form:
Free verse
I'm here because.....
I need you to believe in me
You...Yes, YOU!
My fellow poet..
You who understands
my love for words and their nuances
denotations, but even more...their connotations
their play and interplay of emotions
I need you to believe in me
believe in my voice
my selection and word choice
believe that I can make a change
with my catalytic composition of rhyme
in this present time
when the world is in pain
when there is so much to gain
by the prophetic cry of a poet in the wildness
I need you to believe in me
I'm here because...
I need you to empathize with me
you who sees my words dripping
the blood of my lacerated heart
I'm incomplete
scarred
I'm scared
I'm holding on by one last thread
at times overcome by dread
life is hard
I need you to empathize with me
to write a little word
that will lift my heart
and caress my soul
with the balm of poetic love
friendship's bandage
Cover me....
I need your empathy
I'm here because...
I need community
others don't understand
this is not just a pastime
a cute little way to occupy my time
It's my heart and soul
my ever present dream...my goal
to live on when I'm gone
in some remembered little song
that you helped we write along
I need community
I need the you and the me
In the communal dance of poetry
They don't see
what words mean
to you
to me
I'm here because...
I need your wisdom
I fall short
I see only within my vision
my periphery
I cannot keep in store
all the mysteries and more
you bring wisdom daily to me
a feast for my hungry mind
to relish all the truth I find
your wisdom nourishes me
I bloom into what I'm meant to be:
a writer of sincerity
I'm here because....
When I'm not
I'm so incomplete
the missing parts of me
are here....
they live in my lines
they breathe in your rhymes
you write; I read
I write; you read
and life is born
and I am
whole...
I'm here because....
I belong
Here are people who understand
who help me to stand
who lend me a hand
I'm part of a band
of people like me
who taste the ecstasy
of a life that is blessed
by sweet
poetry....
For Jerry's Contest (Why are You Here)
December 30, 2015
Categories:
connotations, community, poetry, , cute,
Form:
Dramatic Monologue
As cotton clouds fade under blank blackness,
I sigh as stars stare at my moon.
My breathless quill feels no pulse, but it beats,
unable to find admiration for an empty page.
I bleed tears. I've not yet cried like wailing walls,
through expressions with silent connotations,
where my life resembles personified poetry.
But, not all verses are expressed effortlessly,
as my muse's heart is misplaced in mahogany mist.
Once, I used to sprinkle magic over dead roses,
but my chiseled charm is now at war with words,
wandering among weeds in my withering flower garden.
Vinegary rain with sour snow has immolated my vocabulary's flaming blooms,
as memorable metaphors abandon me.
Pierced from thorns worn from a crown of sonnets,
I fear myself when my rhymes feel like childish crimes.
Now I cry without tears, a lifeless poet,
lost in a paradise of vivid imagery,
but powerless to write verses with substance,
so I let my words rest in peace - deceased.
Categories:
connotations, analogy, angst, poetry,
Form:
Free verse
I bleed poetry to heal through
midnight confessions.
Mistress’s ink does not seek
your caramelized validation;
it has no desire to please
your feed of presumed perfection.
I’ve never tamed this
skill as an online profession;
this is just an unbreakable obsession~
I’m drowning in for a distraction.
Don’t question my
hazy metaphors,
veiled away from towering
thorns of introspection,
too vague and meaningless
for the skies adorned
with sleeping stars.
These scribbles of sentimental
symbolism may cause
digressing reactions,
for I’ve been sewing a
waltzing nightmare,
whilst counting syllables
within concocted connotations,
surfing through wicked
schemes of sunset-colored
sestinas to sunflower sonnets.
Now I knit hyacinth haikus
in honeysuckle hues,
woven from pristine petals
amidst wilting wilderness,
awaiting twilight that
would awaken words written
in repetitive refrains,
reigniting the flames
between spaces on fragrant pages,
so dreams will no longer
be more peaceful
than the air I breathe.
Although these lines
do not rhyme with teal-green
tides that sketch
turquoise beginnings,
I still hope time can maybe
guide this canvas home.
Categories:
connotations, deep,
Form:
Free verse
They say I’m sensitive
Negative connotation
A shroud they want to wrap me in
And put the blame on me
It’s only a joke, you see
Overly sensitive
That’s me
I smile
Positive connotations, my wile
Oh…I’m OVERLY sensitive
It’s true
The throbbing and pulsing
That makes other women sigh
Takes me to the stratosphere high
Senstations multiplied
I sigh
I cry
I die
And lie
Open
Sensitive to every touch
To every nuance
To every breath
Body quivering
Mind in overdrive
I thrive
On pleasure
Every cell
Sensitive
To touch
To tongue
To lips
To fingers
To thoughts….
To…..W~O~R~D~S
Dipped in sensitivity
Meant to awaken
The sultry sensual me
Oh...I'm OVERLY sensitive
To my lover’s needs
Wanting to please
Tease
Make him weak…
Unable to speak
Waiting for that butterfly caress
That unbuttoning of the dress
That peek a boo see through lace
That wanton hungry…”feed me” face
I trace
every place
sensitive to the signs
that make him come alive
To satiate, my pride
I rule and provide
His momentum...I guide
OVERLY sensitive
till want and need
are released...freed!
OH….I’m OVERLY sensitive
Yes, It's true
and here's a warning
a warning to you!!!
Don’t mess with me
Unless you want to see
Anarchy!!!
I’ll draw blood
In your "knock her down" revelry
I'll win
I'll fly and be free!!
I’m OVERLY sensitive
That’s me
But I’d rather be this way
Desire delirious
Mayhem mad
Passion proned
Happy honed
OVERLY sensitive people
Like ME
We....
LIVE life
Moment by moment
Second by sensual second
sensitive and alive
we thrive
we survive
Overly sensitive
ALIVE!
Eileen Manassian
Categories:
connotations, how i feel, identity,
Form:
Dramatic Monologue
He wears his frame with dignity.
Moves amongst the throng with confidence,
with a buoyant outlook
that defies everything malignant.
He magnifies his letters until
they are neon bright and shining
messages for his eyes alone
And augments sound until
each letter thrills like a breathless
poem, spoken for his ears alone.
Can he see right through the covert
messages people send through
thick air like fog suffocating?
(We think he cannot, we think he
fails, we think he doesn't see the
labyrinthine manipulations people
use for information and interaction.)
Can he hear those hidden connotations
of words?
(We think he cannot,
we think he fails, we think he hears
only one track of a multitrack tape.)
He rides his chair with poise,
loves with afflatus, with fire,
animus and anima. And leaves behind
what cannot be carried into the
present. But finds in the past a
strength to fight and avenge, not
revenge. Find justice for those
denied in the past and today.
He smiles, smile with him, and
meet him halfway, he is new.
***
March 15, 2017
N/A in contest: Broken Wing
Sponsor: Frank Herrera
Categories:
connotations, abuse, health, inspiration, introspection,
Form:
Free verse
Genuinely!
I've not been the most frequent on this pen
But there are men and women, boys and girls
That have used it to walk on the shores of emotions,
Showing conviction to inspire an evolution
Using Compiling lines that demand admiration
Making this art beautiful and thought provoking
Invoking sensations of humor, love, sorrow, inspiration
They have gone the extra mile
Moving people and spreading innovations
Poets are philosophers
Campaigners of a world controlled by the mind
Creators of nations where reasons and feelings are combined
Inventors of spheres where dictions and connotations are aligned
In the only art form that knows how: Poetry
It's a lubrication to our souls
A beeline route to the heart
It's array of imaginations obligate consciousness
With verses of heavenly adoration
Poetry push motivation into dying bodies
Like doctors healing patients on life support
Conveyed through comedy or romance, activism or insight
Just the right words in just the right ways turn poems into vitamins
nourishing our fading bodies with endless possibilities
By connecting ink to paper
Poets through poems
Highlights the most extraordinary factors of life
Into the most ordinary style possible
The raw use of vernacular makes this art spectacular
They're ideas without frontiers
Lines fused to mold our dreams into entities
Verses and imagery construct poems into precisely powerful printings
That have touched so many lives
Having the greatest effect on me
And this is Phenomenal!
Categories:
connotations, assonance, beautiful, color, emotions,
Form:
Free verse
Dear Mrs Chan,
Thank you for all the things
You’ve clearly explained and shown
And even more for all that
You left me to find out on my own.
Thank you, when I pestered for an answer,
For standing your ground and holding firm –
I know you want me to explore
Because that’s the only way I’ll really learn.
Thank you for exposing me
To the subtleties of the English language
Certain connotations, small differences in meaning,
Always looking for the precise word, the precise usage.
Thank you for encouraging me
To abandon the cowardly-conventional view
To look for something
I believe in, something new.
Thank you for all the sour, unapproving frowns
You shot, threw, thrusted and sent my way
They worked wonders
To keep my illogical misconceptions at bay.
Thank you for your aptly-set standards –
A challenging but never impossibly-high wall.
You make me love a good challenge
You make me want to give my all.
Thank you for lighting up the bulbs
In my stupid little mind
When I didn’t get it, you connected the neurons manually
And occasionally unwind.
Thank you for all that you’ve done
You make History lessons so much fun.
Thank you, Mrs Chan! You’re the BEST!
Categories:
connotations, thank youme, me,
Form:
Rhyme
Traveling through the jaded discourse
With bartered pen and little remorse
Brandishing sharpened scalpel; tour de force
Unabashedly seeking all texts from lexicon to divorce
Developing underlying themes to alter the broader context
Freely abridging each verse to establish the pretext
Isolating each stanza to create a subtext
Inferring connotations to establish a hypertext
Disassociating words to broker more inflection
Delinking phrases building new bridges for reflection
Deconstructing patterns to sculpt out a new direction
Decoding mores and values to foster introspection
Voiding punctuation; compressing verses to scuttle metric time
Extrapolating dominant motifs to devalue the inculcating paradigm
Decoupling dissonant accents to deflower the sublime
Erasing phonetic schemes; disbanding symetrical order; decelerating rhyme
Categories:
connotations, on writing and words
Form:
Rhyme
As a Kid, I never wanted to be viewed as Black. There were always negative connotations that came with that.
Death and Evil, things like the "Black" Plague.
The Representative of Darkness and the Loneliness of Shade.
I Remember a teacher told me according to statistics, by the age of 16 I'd Drop out of School
And by 18, I'd Be in the Prison System or in my Grave.
I guess she was trying to use a scare tactic to make me behave, but I took it in the wrong way!
Now I'm hating myself just because of the pigment of my skin is this way!
But the next couple of days, my opinion changed.
I started to learn some "Evil" History.
You see, there was the KKK and we had the BPP! I learned that my Ancestors were Kings and Queens.
From Light skinned to Dark all Black was Beauty. And a couple of musicians and inventors I do secede.
Then along came the NAACP!
My ancestors were writers and politicians, so what CAN I do?
They were Innovator! So what CAN I do?
They Broke Indestructible Barriers! So what CAN I do?
What CAN I do?
What CAN I do?
WHAT CAN I DO?!
Being Black, the true question is
What CAN'T I Do?
*Dedicated to the NAACP of El Dorado, Arkansas
Categories:
connotations, black african american, deep,
Form:
Free verse
Our children are starving
We are busy fighting obsolete wars
The yearning of the infinite
One must flee the decay and connotations
Of stagnant self content
Running up against the wall
Of nonexistence
Afraid of being thrown back
Into the nothingness
From which we came from
The servile fear of unholy wrath
The filial fear of selfishness
For conscience is not easily silenced
Thus we must refrain from
Self endowed sovereign inalienable worth
And not assimilate
To our slowly dying world
And be inclined to change the world
For greater good
Categories:
connotations, allusion, introspection,
Form:
Concrete
Doth it not thrill thee, Poet,
Dead and dust though thy art,
To feel how I press thy singing
Close to my heart?
Dust to dust, ashes to ashes,
my poems recite my plight.
As two souls mix heart stashes,
inspired of mastery might.
A precept building ahead of time,
TS Eliot dubbed the dark poet.
Poems compare the heart and mind,
T. was fearful human concepts blow it.
Listen, I recite God’s prophet poet,
the waste land be the human mind.
Eliot recites death as concepts sow it.
Valley shadows death, human kind.
Branches, the parasites of human rubbish,
as Eliot compares God’s precept dovish.
Sorrow and blood slaughter is unleashed,
as humans seek beasts’ minds for publish
The human shall not cease of beast,
mind-wilderness concept abominations,
until he return to origin of flourish east.
Hear wisdom of T’s dark connotations
“TS near quotes
Of roots that clutch of which branches grow,
of its stony rubbish is only concepts of man.
Broken images of rubbish, cannot flow,
for of the red rock is the precept grand.
“TS near quotes
The blood drained of the eternal red stone.
Fear is but a handful of flesh-turned dust.
Death shadow dust is swallowed of throne,
as the red stone shall bud of evergreen thrust.
For Dear Heart
And Contest The Passionate Reader
Welcome back Dear Heart
Categories:
connotations, dedication, heart, red, dark,
Form:
Quatrain
Some say yesterday a sweet memory,
but to me, yesterday is another bad dream
I want to shake off forthwith.
Although I admit today as today
because I see sun in the sky, I suppose,
today would be another day of bad dream as well at last,
and if this premise is true or can be constructed from
past experience and present, then, what can you expect
from tomorrow. Most likely, no positive outcomes.
Despite of all those negative connotations, I want to vest
some meaning to tomorrow. Perhaps, I have a belief
though with uncertainty, that everything has its end.
With ruined make-up in a timeworn suit, I roam
a street as usual to find my place to perform monodrama
and when I crack jokes considering passersby in the street
as my audiences, the jokes were thrown at the ground,
kicked and stamped by the heartless audiences and returned
to me as an empty echo.
Nonetheless, I have to accept their unkindly reception
on my jokes as if it’s proper and reply with another joke
awkwardly, though it’s painful, I swallow the result of
such treatments dilute them with tears
and follow the time that brings nothing good for me
but only ill omen.
Categories:
connotations, lonely, sad, today,
Form: