Best Deciphers Poems
Statuette she is in deep thought.
A monument of strength gathered from anguish and heartache.
She sighs as she murmurs what distresses.
As tears flow freely, her heart is exposed.
He is aloof watching her.
He deciphers the cold world that milieus.
He will not encroach.
The streetlights effervescently disclosed her observer.
A sensitive core possesses her inner being.
Her soul is shown so easily.
She continues to hear hysteria even when it has stopped.
Her footsteps are on a lethargic path.
The clock on wall ticks.
She is exhausted from the hits of people that tell her the truth.
Her life is a mess.
Whispers are heard from yesteryear.
She reminisces.
Her life was once of edict and control.
Nevertheless, today she is of discourse to address all the wrong done.
Ascertain, an atmosphere exist as her depth breathes.
___________________________________________|
Penned on December 19, 2014!
Categories:
deciphers, abuse, anxiety, beautiful, blue,
Form:
Rhyme
The speaker of the poetry verse…
tra-la-la happy
or spinning on bicycle
endlessly seething
the poet’s plotting
the speaker’s demise or life
without permission
…is in dread
the poet rubs her palms
wiggles her fingers in dupe
haiku in motion
the reader forgets
the muse is behind the gears
the film’s flickering
…resigned to my whims
somewhere the poet
is hidden in the message
in darkness and light
the speaker
of the poetry verse
is in dread
resigned to my whims.
reader deciphers
shuffling pages & pages -
the muse or poet?
up to you reader
make me ill or be amused
it’s all up to you
resigned to my whims, is in dread of the poetry verse - the speaker.
Categories:
deciphers, humor, muse, poetry,
Form:
Verse
An arthritic flesh
Hesitant wipes off deteriorated lens
Every exhale,
Another tragic sulk unto morrow’s pit
Flaunting suicidal fallacies
Off-white flag motions
Signaling mercy under liar’s duress
Muted pride
Cracking dusty knuckles
Penetration’s decrepit vowel
Slipping in between faulty, stamped licenses
Just to belong
Another back-handed waltz
Bordering beggar dialects
Untrue
Towards paradoxical epiphanies
A faceless identity
Converging amongst unwelcomed hymns
Tainting hallelujahs with discolored spit
Worming their decapitated fingertips
With equilibrium massages
Back to a barricaded oasis
Deciphers from a slanderous heretic
Proclamation of syllabic want
As arthritic flesh
Scribbles out expendable nickname
Manipulating good intentions to be sadistically validated
From their rendered nether
Nameless never inscribed a verse to call their own
Struggling to swim
In the rivers they cried
©Drake J. Eszes
Categories:
deciphers, life, sad, society,
Form:
Free verse
Nature's Treasures
She sees their crowns had impressively grown
Taller than the obelisk now merely ancient stone
Deepest green like emeralds set on her mystic ring
Forever cognizant and nurtured by a life-giving spring
A gentle presence caresses leaves fervently breathing
Reaching toward heaven imbibing celestial blessing
Over her heart a talisman deciphers cryptic rune
Trees are endowments from beyond the moon
Without trees and grasses fostered by a star...
Planet Earth may inevitably mirror God of War!
***This is an expanded version of the previously posted
poem Cognizant Gems, now with a different title,
"Nature's Treasures"***
10/25/2022
6:20 P.M.
Aboard Rhapsody of the Seas
Limassol, Cyprus
Categories:
deciphers, environment,
Form:
Rhyme
Love your enemies
With my eyes closed I could still see clearly even when they tried to hide the truth from me
I did not need my eyes to see the lies they were telling me
I did not eat the food they cooked but I could taste the bitterness from looking in their eyes,
They looked like they were bleeding internally I had no bandages to stop the bleeding
They spoke to me, tiptoeing around my heart with words that demonstrated the arrogance in their minds
He lays a table before me in the midst of my enemies’ 4some reason I felt like that dude David when he wrote those psalms
In their eyes I was a fool and blind to their candy coated approach
Before the devil’s hands lies Gold and earthly Riches, shaking their hands required profound meditation
They spoke in tongues but were oblivious to my multilingualism
They spoke in parables unaware that my mind instinctively decodes and deciphers
I do not know if it was a curse or a blessing but my mind somehow breaks everything down to its core
They had a lot to say but were unaware that I could hear everything that they were not saying
When I spoke their feelings were throbbing and their minds in pain for the truth is like a sharp knife coach
Cutting through skin with ease like light passing through a thin glass
Like Thor’s hammer my words broke their shields I was not at war but they yielded hanging white flags on their heads
They begged for compassion and forgiveness the guilt they felt was their hell of burning sulphuric flames
These flames do not burn the skin but burns the inner being the spirit
They could not tell any lies or hide the truth
I came to them in a form a white dove emitting light and said “peace be upon you for inner peace extinguishes any flame”
Categories:
deciphers, brother, care, forgiveness, inspirational,
Form:
Free verse
Any Poetess knows her writing style.
She knows her swagger.
Her arrogance is in her words.
She struts even when she is not being vulgar.
She is a Poetry Diva.
Visionary
A Dreamer
True Reformer
Excellent
Diva of Poetry
Her mind is preoccupied to her theme.
She is topical in her poetry scheme.
She mesmerizes her vocabulary.
She is a Foreign Indian's Fairy.
A Poetry Diva's libretti conjure.
Unique
First-class
Idyllic Rhymester
A Wordsmith of Poetry
Bard – A Diva
Many times, she deciphers.
More than often, she’ll depict.
It would be her expression she lives within.
She is refined.
Within veracity, a Poetry Diva speaks her mind.
Versifier
Set your soul afire
Awaken your spirit into night
Lyricist
Diva Poetess
Ill-mannered she is not.
She does not write half-cocked.
She can be so male gaited.
Golden is her unique way.
A Poetry Diva is a platformer.
Wonderful
Magnificent
Ideal Utopian
Such a romantic lover,
Poetry Diva is enamored!
_______________|
Penned April 24, 2014!
For Kelly Deschler Contest Poems About Poetry
2nd Place
Categories:
deciphers, poetess, poetry, political, vanity,
Form:
Verse
Love quote- code word
Love is like a code word at the hands of secret agents,
everyone deciphers his own way!
August 21st, 2014
For contest 'What's your quote by Judy Konos
First place win awarded
Categories:
deciphers, love,
Form:
Free verse
Geology, the science of the earth,
elucidates the intricacies of the creation
of the continents and the oceans,
explores the complex make-up
of the deep interior and the lofty mountains,
deciphers from the fossils,
the evolutionary trends of life.
All these aspects are imprinted
in the contents of the rocks,
enunciating the 4.5 billion year history of the earth.
As a professional geologist,
my expertise lies in the study of rock structures,
that ascertain the deformation pattern,
consequential to the interplay of tectonic forces,
forming the mountain chains,
Like the old Caledonia and the young Himalaya,
and creating earthquake-causing faults,
like in the Saint Andreas and in the Anatolia.
A piece of rock is not just
a chunk of ordinary stone to me,
it enumerates the fascinating anecdote
of the eventful eons of the earth,
and unfolds the mysteries of the blue planet.
______________
March 30, 2023
Categories:
deciphers, earth, mystery,
Form:
Free verse
Today, the streets do not remember our feet
The sun still thirsty for more of our sweet, sweat
We climb the pavement to tomorrow like an unending horizontal wall
Marching on to the answers beyond the questions to our inevitable fall
The north wind blowing my thoughts to the west
I’m kicking up the remnants of the oblivion we are, dust
Shouts of betrayal rising first from the south, then the east
Cries for surrender dissipate with the long overdue sunset
At night, the screams of my people dying brainstorming a nightmare
My belief in diluted faith, screeching nails across the bedroom mirror
I sleep, barely clutching to my blanket of sanity
My divided heart rattling in my chest like a caged monkey
Alone in the interrogation room of life, questioning my choices
A loud whisper finally deciphers the message, but my brain has a virus
Eyes blinded by mental anguish, needing closure
To finally open and see a murky, bright future
Categories:
deciphers, life,
Form:
Rhyme
What the poet knows,
I'll tell you what:
He moulds the clay of wisdom,
Fine-tunes the disruption of misconceptions.
He listens to breaking sorrows
And leans a helping arm on society.
He is the eye of the ancestors
An encyclopaedia of generations passed.
He reflects the ills of humanity
Gigantic bulldozer, bulldozing through.
He devices a language of illumination
Shining to all who understands his dialect.
He touches starvation with a helping hand,
Fighting malice with the pen as his sword.
He knows when to strike
And where to aim,
Poised for greatness
A marching warrior.
He defeats with ease
And cures with his words,
Piercing his way
Through the hearts of darkness.
A voice of change
And a voice of the earth,
Created specifically to nurture the earth.
He is born to sing and born to shout
Amidst much silence from a quiet lot.
He deciphers solution for multitudes at ease
From his warehouse of wisdom, oh man of letters.
He was created to heal
And born to lead
His devoted urchins
That roams the earth.
He bears immortality
With the tip of his fingers,
Granting at will to preserve his cause.
He speaks the bitter truth
And embraces nature
Cos within it lies
The sincerity of creation.
So skilled in his art
His fine craftsmanship,
Posing not just a poet
But an artist as well.
So much to learn
And much to envisage
From an aged treasure house
Of what the poet knows.
Categories:
deciphers, dedication, on writing and
Form:
Ode
If i ever said i'm over you i lied.
If i ever said i didn't care i lied.
For what shines today does forever.
And you shine brighter each day relentlessly.
We met in an unconvincing way,
And for the first time my words were trapped
And my face beamed with an unsual smile.
You were and still are the spark to my intuition.
I might not be the guy with words,
I might not be as gentlemanly as them,
Or have all you might need in a man,
Nor with a better game than my fellow admirers.
I don't know the right words to make you see that every image of you runs my imagination wild
And your face deciphers all secrets to my stonecold heart.
It might be difficult to express all the love i have and want to give,
For your walls are so high to be climbed by my crippled words.
Even if they did, it might be too late
For the race for your heart is not only mine to run.
I am a little bit unsteady
But my constant personality shift has nothing on you.
I can't promise a constant love even if we are together someday.
For my untamed feelings keep going rogue.
Though i fall in love a bit with someone new everyday.
The Love i have for you cannot be encapsulated in these words .
I love you and no matter how long it takes
I won't let you go!
Though i have always tried to blind myself from you
I'm always falling with my eyes closed.
Hope we be together someday
Categories:
deciphers, 7th grade, africa, blue,
Form:
ABC
Bob, the cat, lives in the room number 13 of the sixth avenue.
He likes fish, rollercoaster, ice cream cones and Sunday papers.
He's an artist. He's a painter. When people ask him about his latest work, he answers:
"I'm painting the meaning of life. I'm coloring it black, but my inner self keeps telling me it's green."
He has gothic way of seeing materials and articles.
He wishes everyone to speak in fragments of literary lyrics, and then he would spend all his days tangling these fragments making an abstract form out of a puzzle.
He goes for a walk before breakfast; walking on two legs, wearing a leather jacket, and whistling after big ass women are his forte.
He passes Mr. Pumpkin floral shop, turns into the eighth avenue, and enters his favorite café called "Your Favorite Café".
He sits on the second chair at the second table, and orders a coffee:
"Black, dark and bitter like a cat's soul", he says to the waiter.
He sits there all morning, sipping his black coffee, dreaming about how it would be if his past, present and future selves exist together, thinking in sync, and communicating through a common medium of artistic sense, saying words in the silence notes of Van Gogh.
He dances all the way home. If anyone cares to ask, he says:
"I'm drunk in Coffea Arabica, a perfect weed to make you tantalize with Arabian dreams and gives your nerves a breakdown."
Dancing along the pavements, he counts the roses in beats.
One, two, three, four… two, two, three, four… three, two, three, four, and so on.
The number of roses is directly proportional to the number of steps he's gonna salsa in the bathroom.
He sits on the toilet bowl, and deciphers the problems with human rights.
He stands on one leg on the bathroom floor, with arms spread like hugging the air, mouth wide opens.
He squeaks like a mouse and tries to hop like a rabbit.
He falls hard, crashing the cold bathroom tiles.
He bleeds red like the color red.
He says "Perfect".
He runs into the bedroom. There stands his actual latest work, the heart of a vampire, portraying himself with a deadly cat fangs and a wicked mustache.
He splashes his blood all over the painting, and shouts "eureka".
He starts to hum Yankee Doodle through his nose.
He falls asleep, and dreams about dinner.
"Scramble eggs with tomatoes".
Categories:
deciphers, cat, fantasy,
Form:
Free verse
Rebuild
what is the point in rebuilding
stalling the calling of the wild
condensations of nature
people in high stature
computers used in recognition
times change
frame the claim of pics
illicit meanings
feeding the fire
rotten attitude
discretion
lost ambition
wishing that someone would arrive in this place
frank Sinatra playing tunes from crooners
abused used
fallow merry hollow places
drips crypts
deciphers the fact
risen to rescission
rebuild and receive
Written by tonuhalan 31/04/06/sun
Categories:
deciphers, visionary,
Form:
Dramatic Monologue
The bird on the hill wakes up early in the morning pulling and shaking the awning giving rise to a tempestuous heat that resides in the deep.
It is not one of those cool mornings when everything is in perfect harmony, the stock market is going up and down and the clown is running all over the town, while the distilled water that come from the head starts spilling over in the bed and I stood there waiting for the sun to rise.
The bird on the hill cannot keep still; it keeps moving from floor to floor knocking on the doors, looking for someone to join the pack. It mixes pepper with sugar and sauté honey and vinegar, while piecing together every single argument and scrubbing the dial pad with sediment brought out from the bag. The corn soup is too thick to share, you have to water it down with beer and the morning bears its punishment.
The bird on the hill cannot keep still, it flies from tree to tree increasing the temperature to a hundred degrees. It bellows out loud in the morning chastising men and women of their sins while the sniper waited for the chance to take a shot at it from a distance but the bird on the hill deciphers their tricks and hid in the cockpit.
It has a lot of feathers bundle all together and a gate leading to the shore that lies just behind the door and they waited there with great anticipation.
The bird on the hill cannot keep still, it flew in the middle of the hearing and broke up the benevolent proceedings and when it was done it gave everyone a massage cream to rub in joints and shoulder.
It flew back on top of the hill and starts flying around kicking up a dust storm all over the town, it landed in the middle of the court house stirring up a ferocious storm that sends the jury, the lawyers and judges back to the county to complete the journey.
I stood and watch it unfold in front of my face as the situation enters the final phase, horse on tracks, women in frocks and nude men crouching around the back with their hands covering their privacy and a ribbon stretch across their faces.
The bird on the hill cannot keep still it is waiting for its partner to come back from a trip.
Categories:
deciphers, absence, beautiful, community, devotion,
Form:
Narrative
In the rat infested basement
Of a gambler and his greed
guilty buckets of ashamedness
Catch what his heart will bleed
Though he may have loved another
His emotion's sometimes mixed
For it's the romance of casinos
Where he needs to get his fix
A barrage of useless numbers
Flow thickly through his mind
As he deciphers the statistics
Of who will win this time
And later on you'll see him sweating
Every game that he will watch
Profanities under his breath
As he shoots another Scotch
For his outfielder makes an error
His quarterback gets sacked
He needs but half a point
For the over that he lacks
And if it doesn't turn out too well
Don't step in his way
Let him calm himself tonight
For tomorrow's another day
Categories:
deciphers, introspection, life, people, philosophy,
Form:
Rhyme