Best Contours Poems
Drenched in the glow of sunburst crimson sky
verdant vale veers at foot of jade hills,
on gentle slope fawn leaves rustle with sigh,
wind carries to the deep stream down the rills,
sketching the leaping silver water line
on rocks carving the course of pristine art,
lucid in murmur on pebbles, some shine
bright, some drape with malachite moss their heart.
Walking long on contours of crystal stream,
of emerald plain’s scene I’ve not lost sight,
see, from lilac sky descends golden gleam
of twilight as I watch the fall of night.
I wait for dawn to see me in your eye
drenched in the glow of sunburst crimson sky.
May 15, 2019
Contest : Nature Scene-Orphan Sonnet
Syllable count : 10 each line
Checked on howmanysyllables.com
Everywhere i look there are many contours. For every contour i see there is a adventure. But one i don't see clear i will fellow the contour to solve the mystery.
“UNDERWATER CONTOURS”
Curves and contours testify
The mirror never tells a lie
Bathroom scale the confirmation
Body toning contemplation
Sub-aqua training fitness enhances
Submerged serenity with sparkling nuances
Gliding fulfilment and dissociation
Flooding the senses-- underwater salvation
Upward blue curves denting the side
Stark white lines indicate and divide
Soft, silky, satin water caressing the skin
Breathing awareness deep from within
A swimmers experience provides compromise
Muscles respond as minds liberalise
Curves and contours deep below and submerged
Underwater encounters float boundless, resurged
Kim van Breda—February 2013
Sometimes when the night
crawls upon me
I go out
to look at the people
who's faces have
slipped out
of their contours
slid down
to rest
on collars
features
dripping down
on the
ash grey asphalt
and
under lonely lampposts
everything
fades
into puddles.
© Gry W Christensen
Fall into my eyes.
Be there for me, one more time;
Not my worry lines,
Now our love, she and I.
Bring her by surprise;
Let the heavens open wide.
Please, my pleading eyes;
And groom my future bride.
The Broken Fountain Pen Disaster
Underfoot the dropped was-so-lost pen breaks snapping its midnight ink artery to spurt explosively out like some imprisoned force nearly dead but risen sucking in saving air
while dispersing into freedom in a fly across the floor the long streaks of such random black pitch arcs streaking fall staining the canvas on which our living room is drawn between a sofa and yellow armchair there will be an awful task to clean this
now like aJackson Pollock’s winking quickly cast so rapidly set.
After the stroke we gape as the room itself clutches a stiller life mood blank in an erased atmosphere forgetting any will to find a contour of drawn new breath or speech only yet
whispers of loss in a similar kind of dreaded time when the
corpse lies in its open casket
under mounds of white roses while hinting of prayers by Rilke
until finally someone declares the tragedy past turning to suggest the use of gold leaf rather than ink on the outlines of the next drawing of the hour as it may proceed.
**********. **********. **********. **********
(C) sally Young Eslinger 11/2020
Thanks be to God
new dot
fiery
in
sunburst
horizon
spans
sapphire
sky
driving
dawned day
on transit
transient
spent sun
sinks
with
golden point
blazing
floral flare
of
the end
compulsive
completes
dot to dot
connection
in lattice
of time
continuum
designer
of destiny
disguised
creates
a pattern
intricate
with
bewildered
specks
of being
getting
joined
in the journey
to make
the motif
of
existence
eternal
in matrix
of life
ordained
I consume
my time
connecting
disparate
dots
of self
configuring
contours
of me
shifting
shape
to conjoin
the last dot
waiting
Light and dark; shadows or bright
Friendship lights up day and night.
As pieces of plaster we’ve shaped and molded
Rejoicing, mourning, as life has unfolded.
Unknowing, deliberately, undeniably we’ve left contours and impressions in each other’s lives through the years
Footprints, Laughter; wonder and tears
Reflections of life, reflections of hope, reflections of friendship, weathering all.
Colors blending, mixing, molding
Reaffirming, renewing and reshaping through it all
Hands held, what needs smoothing has been smoothed
Minds eased, hearts soothed
Light and dark; forever sisters of the heart.
Springtime facade shines on convivial tapestry
Monet’s luminous landscape of vibrant vivacity
Within sparkling blue lagoon of dreaming eyes
On luscious lips the petals of blooming lotus lie
Painted on the satin canvas of cute countenance
Designing narcissistic features of innate elegance
With the hues of Dorian Gray syndrome subdued
By pervading pride of indomitable youth imbued.
On the withered canvas the wheels of time creep
The spider of winter weaves web of wrinkle deep
Weary eyes look forlornly at weathered wasteland
Wilted lips lose luster of lotus once luringly grand
Hedonist psyche refuses to accept the fated loss
Even when time comes for the last mile to cross
What is a face if not a metaphor for a panorama
Snapshot shaped in contours of lasting charisma.
_________________
May 1, 2022
For Contest Your Choice 2022
Sponsored by Brian Strand
You are a thousand miles of sheer delight,
When I turn the key our passions ignite,
Firing off a strong robust heart that's yours,
My knees weaken waxing your sleek contours,
O' my splendiferous, overpriced Genie,
My bright yellow, dream Matchbox* Lamborghini
8/12/22
*Toy collectible cars
Bitesize poem No.56 poetry contest
Sponsor: Line Gauthier
14/12/22
Second Chance N/A Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Brian Strand
Contours bending in a storm
emerging twisted gracious form
drifting through forgotten night
on slowly moving candlelight
with sweet hands tending tender skin
swollen kisses tumbling in
where hidden canyon's sweet abyss
surge toward a glowing temporal bliss
as human touch seeks out its will
unfolding from a stardust mill
weaving daydreams until dawn
the river's flow has nowhere gone
for climbers of crescendoed falls
always fail to cross their walls
until a time will come to be
when our whole heart will let us see
True feelings to hold behind the mask will see;
Changing colors is the only rightful need.
Emotions come and go behind the face shell.
The joker face detains each falling tear drop.
In happiness or sorrow the wild card swings.
Meeting one contract; then another in love:
Playing the game show never to deliberate;
On what others cannot see behind the jibs.
The ultimate poker card-player playing the blind,
Displays countenance of a professional;
With the feint he wishes for a lucky win
Double or quit his mask would never let him down.
Behind many masks confusion will prevail
For life, he clasps the mask; On death he needs none.
a picture of humanity -
life tinged with sadness
inspired by painting style of Jawalensky
Come let us go,
One at a time;
Now with a glow,
Toss then old rhymes;
One simple fling,
Urge knows the way;
Reach beyond swing,
Seed a new play;
Ink stains dry fast,
Move beyond sight;
Ply thoughts that last,
Align lost light;
Clown with the muse,
Throw away deuce.
Leon Enriquez
25 September 2014
Singapore
I love to lay next to you under the covers,
I love the way your bodies contours fit mine,
Laughing and whispering can be heard from the two lovers,
Like they were meant to be together for always and all time,
Nothing compares to the comfort of us laying together,
If it was possible id choose to do it forever