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New Description Poems

Don't stop! The most popular and best Description poems are below this new poems list.

LOVE DESCRIPTION by Mhlongo, Khazamula
My Description by Rodeheaver , Julie Leigh
HAIKU a description by Strand, Brian
Description Of The Day by Ogletree, Dalton
Beyond Description by Billheimer, Clarence
MY SEASONAL MUSE a description by Strand, Brian
EKPHRASIS a description by Strand, Brian
Elixir Description by Micheals, Edward
Description deciphering descriptions by Chanan, Taoi
Self-Description by Olson, Richard

View all new Description Poems

The Best Description Poems

 
Details | Description Poem | Create an image from this poem.

TOUCH

"TOUCH" I want to touch your life and leave a mark ... ... a deep impression ... So you will think of me and of my smile ... ... my sweet expression ... I long to touch your life and leave a sign ... ... a warm inscription ... So you will care for me and keep in mind ... ... a clear description ... I need to touch your life and leave a joy ..,. ... an inspiration ... So you will love me soon in reality ... ... not imagination ...
*For S.K.A.T.'s give it to me straight contest ...


Copyright © Linda-Marie SweetHeart | Year Posted 2012

Details | Description Poem | Create an image from this poem.

- A Most Beautiful Symphony of Love -

 
Rhythmic tones form a most beautiful symphony of love 
A shining star as nature's splendor reflects Heaven’s light 
It’s my destiny to learn a passion and purpose to use now 
Even for a moment, I would not change for you’re my love 
And love is a blessing, an eternal gift that keeps on giving 
Take your wish, shattered dreams—leave this world behind 
And we shall seek and find a togetherness with lullabies pure 
For each new emotion my heart shall always find you dearest 
 
Sending warm golden stirring echoes dancing into your dreams 
Softly lips whispering so gently in the air as a loving tune sings 
As the warm sun lights up our footsteps treading on golden sands 
Perfect maiden you’re the siren ringing bells for midnight chimes 
True precious bride inside the heart you have keys to all the doors 
Walk with me hand in hand as the soul breathes and butterflies sigh 
Ocean waves crash—kissing salt of the earth as windows flutter free 
Safely sitting on the throne as the crown graces a fair maiden queen 
 
Our special music reflects the precious nature of our love dearest 
As we share enchanted moments with each other so real and pure  
When I take your hand in mine, I feel the magic warmth of passion 
When I gaze into your eyes, I sense the depth of our love forever 
The delight I share with you dear one defies all human description 
And so my love—enjoy the oneness we share as two souls together 
As we bask in God’s own heavenly light and music in His Universe 
Our hearts unite as one in forming a most beautiful symphony of love 




 
Anne-Lise Andresen, Liam McDaid, and Gary Bateman © 
A Collaborated Poem – June 22, 2015
Copyright © All Rights Reserved



Copyright © Sunshine Smile | Year Posted 2015



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BLISS

Ignorance is definitely a description of bliss
Look at Washington if you don’t believe this
They are never on target, they always miss
Their biggest decision is whose butt to kiss
We were told we were getting change
It looks the same, now ain’t that strange
The positions of the rich just rearrange
Take care of their own, they prearrange
Maybe I was hoping for something new
But what I see is the same old doodoo
Filling their pockets, screwing me and you
Spitting on the Red White and Blue
Society brainwashed, a robotic crowd
Entitlement minded, crying out loud
Sorry boys, no thinking allowed
Socialism will make you proud
They say they will make the country strong
But I’m watching now and see the wrong
Change has been coming for oh so long
But you are still singing the same old song
Bliss isn’t living off a government check
Being a dependent, a financial wreck
Ready to sail but no one on deck
Living with a noose tied around your neck
Bliss is different for you and me
A pursuit of happiness and being free
Earning a living, the right to be
Productive members of a society.


Copyright © Vince Suzadail Jr. | Year Posted 2009

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My Heart Skips a Beat My Love

My heart skips a beat my love each and every time 
I’m with you my dearest sweet and lovely Darling
Since the passions and feelings you stir in me
Touch the very depth of my inner being and soul
And render themselves not to mere words only
Suitable for depiction, exhibition, understanding
Rather to the image and strength of your beauty
And your rapturous desire and feeling as they
Defy rational attempts at any simple description
For you are the most radiant beyond all compare
	
My heart skips a beat my love when we lie together
Locked in a most enchanting embrace and kissing
So deeply, palpably that we run out of breath and pant
Anxiously at what comes next in our mutual longing
And crescendo as our passions explode and express
Themselves in a most hungry trail of urges and desires
Which makes finding love for us all the more magical
Pairing us together like a couple of star-struck kids 
Lost impossibly in moments of hope and imagination 
In a timeless world of love, desire, emotion, and oneness

My heart skips a beat my love when we walk so closely
Hand-in-hand talking, laughing, and living our dreams
Confronting the world and taking on whatever comes
Next as we steer our ship of destiny on a true course
Where our like-thoughts and deep love for each other
Mean something quite special that only Dreamers and 
Poets can imagine and set to melody and harmony in perfect 
Verses of sheer passion and delight painted onto a canvas  
Of unending happiness where Heaven and Earth are one
My heart skips a beat my love when we’re forever one

Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved
(November 5, 2014) (Free Verse)


Copyright © Gary Bateman | Year Posted 2014

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My Turn To Cry

I’ve distanced myself
I didn’t mean to
Didn’t set out to do it
An unconscious act of the mind 
For self preservation

My visits went to once a week
Sunday dinners that once lasted for hours
Became shorter and shorter
Until now its get in
Get it cooked
Clean it up 
Visit
And we’re out

Occasionally circumstances would
Happen and one would be missed
Oh well I’ll go during the week
Sometimes I did
Sometimes I didn’t
Today my heart cried to be near you

I entered the home and immediately
Settled my mood into the atmosphere
Funeral home-esque for lack of a better description
I speak in hushed tones
Slow my movements
And quiet my spirit

You want something
Oh thank you give me a job
What do you need???? Anything
I’ll gladly do anything

So many things hurt you now
You who were so tough reduced to such pain
Questions, answers, questions, answers
Over and over and over
This is the part I know
I’ve practiced this so many times before

You speak and in mid sentence you cry
Have I seen my sister,,you can’t remember 
Ever seeing my sister, have you seen her
Yes mom remember mom
My answers are calm
Almost rehearsed
Repeated
Sterile

You look searching in my eyes
Yours, sunken, confused,
Pained, with a depth of sadness
I haven’t seen before
I look away.

I meet all the needs you’ve asked of me
I pat you, hug you, pray with you
I look at my brother, the saint
He’s tired, worn, sad
 
I leave, I’m OUT
I drive
How’d I get here
How long have I been driving
The sky so desperately gray
Muted tones of nothingness
The air feels so heavy
Like a shroud encompassing me
Choking me

The river runs beside me
It rages from the wind
There’s no stopping its power
It’s dark and gloomy and brown
And suits my mood

I try to pray
HOW DO I PRAY
Do I pray for healing,
Health, life, death
Joy, maybe peace

I cry out to you
I DON’T KNOW HOW TO PRAY
I look to the sky and see
The smallest spot of the most beautiful sapphire blue
In a sea of nothing
And I cry


Copyright © Laurie Ginn | Year Posted 2009

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Art - Anne-Louis Girodet

Description of The Funeral of Atala (Funérailles d'Atala or Atala au tombeau), 1808, Louvre

I sauntered through the Louvre, observing art.
One painting struck me for its quality
of sadness; I could see a young man’s heart
was clearly broken by a tragedy.

The man is Indian; he’s in a cave
with an old man who holds the shoulders of
a woman they’ll be putting in her grave.
The Indian is mourning for his love.

He’s sitting, clinging to her draped knees, and
though for me this image was unclear,
a crucifix is clutched inside her hand.
Outside upon a hill, a cross is near.

The artist was recalling the sad scene
of Atala, a woman who was mired
in mental conflict. She was torn between
religious vows and the one man she loved.

Although the heroine wears virgin white,
some sensuality is shown with grace.
The day is waning, and the sun’s last light
caresses her fair bosom and her face.

The focus is this woman, but my eyes
go to the half-nude Indian whose skin
is brown, in contrast to the girl who lies
dead by her own hand for fear she would sin!

The novel that explored Atala’s woe
inspired more than one painter in the time
romanticism had begun to grow,
but Girodet’s work of art for me is prime!

Written May 9, 2017 for the Celebration of Art Contest of  Kim Rodrigues
Note: I can't find a French syllable counter, but English puts the artist's name Girodet at three syllables.


Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2017

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The Concealed Anguish

Take my letter to her, O Messenger!
Yes, totally washed are its words and phrases 
A deed of my flooding eyes I couldn’t deter
The tornado of tears accumulated for ages

The storm of anguish concealed in heart
Washed all urges of soul that flowed from pen
The torrents rumbling from the start 
Once started couldn’t be stopped there and then

Her perception will be triggered, I am sure
This blank sheet will reveal all that I meant to say 
The power of love will her instincts conjure
My feelings, my urges won’t go astray

Tell her, that the lustrous mansion of pride and ego
Is falling to pieces like the house of cards
The dark alleys of life that lost their glow
In a state of disrepair, description beyond words

The King of Diamond has lost the game 
A player is lucky to hold the three A’s
Lost is all the glory and fame
Built in years and lost in days
 
His eyes craving for your enchanting face
The candles of his eyes weep in the desolate nights 
Lost is all peace and tranquility’s trace
Your charming features his heart ignites

A few breaths are left in the dying tree of life
With fallen leaves and barren branches entwined
Resuscitate and free it from torments and strife
Be a glow of the dimmed eyes that brilliantly shined

Tell her, the writer awaits your reply 
With burning heart and soul alight
Before torments enhance and wounds multiply 
And the bird of life takes to wing of flight






Copyright © Mohammad Yamin | Year Posted 2011

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True Poetry in Motion?

I began to tell of the two pens (my couplet) I always carry tucked away in my shirt 
pocket, and of my humble closet which contains nary a pocketless shirt.
 
My thoughts drifted to what by.. and how I am inspired, when my love and I began speaking 
of a subject very dear to me.
 
     When we finished ....  in what I believe to be an infused prayer,...perhaps inspiration to 
some,... I saw what seemed to be liquid glass like droplets ..falling slowly from above ..
as a slow motion shower into an atmosphere of what may have been, space and time. I saw 
no earth or sky.
    
     These liquid glass droplets were falling without disruption through a pellucid barely 
recognizable outline of a figure that I perceived to be a poet.

     Somewhere from within I asked why the poet could not be lined somehow with a shell to 
capture these apparently valuable liquid glass treasures. They were so clear that the 
atmosphere through which they were falling, appeared as a gloom gray.
    
      I understood that these treasures cannot be contained or retained. They must fall 
through the poet who must also be like these liquid luculent treasures in order that these 
particular gifts may come through the poet ..continuing to transform same and all others who 
allow these treasures to permeate them.
      There is no clearer description within me to give. ... 

     And then... I was no longer free and came back into the pain, 
discomfort and seemingly bloated entity
within this shell.. that I call me.


Copyright © Robert A. Dufresne | Year Posted 2010

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The End of Summer

The meadow lies ravaged
beneath the scorching sun,
fields covered with dust,
grasses yellow and flat,
sunflowers hang their heads.
Only dandelions survive
releasing seed into the air.
Few birds chirp, singing sad songs,
Spiders move slowly
weaving their webs.
Insects undeterred abound.
Ants carry their meager harvest
to their underground caves.
The breeze too cold,
the skies occasionally grey.
No farmer tills the land,
afraid of sweat and backaches.
No tractor sputters to life
no tools lie around,
Only a sickle is stuck upright 
in the fallow land.

Placed 1

5 September 2017
Contest/Sponsored by Cecelia Hopkins-Drewer
____________________________________________________________
Contest Description

September is the month when summer ends.
Please write a free verse poem on your thoughts about The End of Summer.
Visual imagery is essential.
Good grammar and spelling are essential.
Date your poem. 
No Names.


Copyright © Victor Buhagiar | Year Posted 2017

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Soul Speak


Allay ...

Allay, my heart ...
Pray, hush your cadence ...
For the sacred sake of unsated thirst
Beg thy thrums to be not now abounding.

Each dream comes haunting, dusted in dusk
Every sentimental pluck of your syrupy strings
Beckons her back to my yearnings, interminable
Every wistful pang is strummed by her affect on me.

This place, dipped in the dripping mist of morning
Echoes things quite beyond my words ... of her
'Tis no forte for flowery phrase can capture it
No poetic capacity worthy of its description.

It pulls and mills my spirit like the ebb of the briny blue
But to its most dark, stinging, brumal depths.
She was such a visceral part of my fibre ...
From the quintessence of deep, dreaming slumber

To the first nascent meandering of each wish-flavored morning
(Her sublime taste still seasoning my mouth ... and my mentalities).
From the uncommon commonplace of teatime sun in her tresses
To the chipped-edge porcelain puddles of the mocking moon

Cackling at my fevered foolishness for its glint in her eyes
Or for her skin, when she'd dip her toes in pale pools of twilight.
My core breathed her like youth breathes rebellion
And the cells of her press on my emotions infused my blood

Coursing like the fire of a drug through my arteries.
Never ... ne'er did I touch her
But to write secret stories on her skin
Fingertips spelling out sexy words in cursive

Or focusing the intent of my heart to a simple caress -
A brush of her shoulder, a graze of her cheek
A stroke to put her hair behind her ear
A pillow-deep hug - full of warmth and security

A gentle pat of her knee
Or a grasp of her hand ... like heaven!
Each space corresponding with mine, like perfect dovetail.
This place, to some, is just that - a place

But it was OUR place, you see, and it sighs of US
Deeply, forlornly, achingly ...
The wash of the waves is but the whisper of her name
The salt-sea fresh air aromas are her perfume

The feel of the cool sand under each footstep
Is but a soft memory of the tender, tousled passion we shared
And this dark, misty day
Is the remnant of my heart ...

The melancholy that drips from my spirit to the well of days gone.
I shall not come here again, though I love it so ...
Oh, how I adore this place and all it means
But if I ever return, it will claim me ...

It will swallow me as time has swallowed her
It will transform me to this damp, dour, graying mist
And I'll be lost to the wind and the dark
Just as surely as she is lost ...

To me.



** Written October 5, 2017, and submitted November 11, 2017, for the "Choose A Topic" Poetry Contest, Russell Sivey, Sponsor. My topic is "Heartbreak and Loss". **


Copyright © Gregory R Barden | Year Posted 2017

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DISTANCE

              DISTANCE

Walking towards the light 
Leaving behind a wink of the night

Ignoring the massive things between
Exploding with all the things I've seen

Reality to dreams, it may be
Blinded by the ways of me

Without knowing my deception
Painting myself with a bad description

About me, I have no reason to lie
Some things should never be asked why?

A sickening motion due to gravity
When life decays turn into a cavity

Life will soon find a solution 
Ahead of myself like a resolution

Developing the pictures of all time
Predicting a way out of a single crime

I sit and listen to all incoming observations
While my mind is lost in its own rotation

Losing myself in a severe way
I hate the way I wake up everyday.

          
S.K.A.T. 


Copyright © SKAT A | Year Posted 2010

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SATAN OSCILLATE MY METALLIC SONATAS

*****To the naked EYE, this poem may seem like gibberish,
but I assure you it is loaded with 24 palindromes,
3 palindrome phrases, 1 hidden palindrome phrase,
and is chock full with enormous wordplay...
oh and one more palindrome in this description. 
Can you find more? I challenge you word freaks!*****


____SATAN OSCILLATE MY METALLIC SONATAS____

Last night, around eleven or so, I decided to paint a pink castle.
To my dismay, on display, is what looks more like a pink asshole.
Picasso would've been so proud!
Today, upon recording nothing short of a colossal debacle,
I've chosen to
utilize the eyes of a hostile apostle.
Tossing docile scribble, I'm scribing.
Describing life like a diatribe conniving REVIVER at a revival.

LIVE EVIL!

Palindrome EYE to the side of my tribe.
Get in line, standing at the hands of HANNA.

PULL UP.

RISE AND VOTE SIR!

EYE
LEVEL 
to 
NUN'S
BOOB.

WOW!

We OTTO-matically 
POP a PEEP at NOON!
DAD got so damn mad he DID the DEED
and split three XANAX with his MADAM and MOM!
(ALA the ABBA GIG way back in them AHA kookie KOOK days)

So anyways...
Back to peek hassle!
Do ya' think he might like ta' take a stab at my STATS?


*****(this was fun as fun can be:
hope you have half as much fun with it as I did:)*****

~JSLambert


Copyright © JSLambert Mister ROBOTO | Year Posted 2014

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Zombies

Zeal uncontained, needing quarantine
Oscillating rigor mortis, feigned or real
Madness, the only description saleable
Both for actors and non actors alike
Invested in the runaway train consumers
Enjoy at the expense of real tragedy
Shuttered from public view, until it's not


10/15/14


Copyright © James Marshall Goff | Year Posted 2014

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INANEVILPREDATORIALMENDACITY

What a slap in the face!
It’s an international disgrace!

(Descriptive distraction)
and (subversion in action)

It’s now commonly used in parlance by judiciary
while in literature this prevalent (lie) I see.

With a bland, enough face?
or is there the hint of a trace?

Could there be in its origin, a.. motive? or motion
created to infiltrate a nations notion?

A.. (sort of sufferance)
involved with its utterance!

So (abused & misused) is the category
I must zero in all my batteries,

Now I am clearing my decks,
here I go, what the heck!

For I have admiration for a Francophile
would converse with a Russophile

I so enjoy your work Faberge
and appreciate the charm of the Gallic sway

But for me there is no third way!
(now) without any doubt I am coming about

And stoking all my fires
for full ahead’s my desire.

On the literary beach 
I see a very (rotten peach)!

And it was ‘hidden’ in full view
Hmm.. let’s see what some firepower can do

For the doting parents who pray
keep our kids safe today.

Hardworking moms & dads who care,
find time that is to spare

From extra help with early reading
to painting nursery room ceilings

Some working 14-hour days
it makes me angry I say.

Aunts & uncles, grandparent, teachers
of calm nature and reason

With motives pure and in step
with life’s seasons

And the name of the paedophile should by rights be theirs,
its been hijacked, does anyone care?

It’s too good a description, just not the depiction
to be bandied about, LISTEN

AS I SHOUT WITH TRUE INDIGNATION
CHANGE THIS DECEPTION OF NATIONS

© Joe Maverick 25-04-2011


Copyright © Joe Maverick | Year Posted 2011

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HOLIDAY HORROR

We had just got married - was the month of June This is the saga of our disastrous honeymoon We started off in a hotel in Norwich The bedding was itchy just like doing ‘porridge’ Back home to Birmingham to get ready for our cruise To the Norwegian Fjords - stunning scenery to peruse I had already started to get a horrid cold My sneezing was totally uncontrolled We arrived in Norway and I was feeling ill The fjords were smooth no need for sea sickness pill I started to brighten as we began the cruise Hubby and me together we had nothing to loose Enjoying the scenery and the fresh cold air Watching the waterfalls oh how we did stare We arrived at the first hotel and got ready for the night We were on honeymoon and wanted everything right Climbing the stairs to our hotel room Separate beds – you could sense the doom Well we got over that hurdle… details I won’t discus! But when we saw the tour guide oh how we did cuss Next day we got onto our honeymoon boat Enjoying the experience whilst we were afloat On to another hotel as part of the tour Separate beds yet again – oh what a bore! Every hotel we stayed at we had separate beds Hardly ideal scenario for a pair of newly weds! Finally it was time for us to go our journey back home One more meal at the hotel – oh how time had flown Disaster struck – it could only happen to me I got food poisoning I was as sick as a flea Firing from both ends it was absolute hell My honeymoon disaster – oh I remember it well! A pretty accurate description of our honeymoon in June 1991… but despite everything that went wrong we are still together! 04~24~15 Contest: Memorable Vacation – Shadow Hamilton ~awarded 2nd place~


Copyright © JAN ALLISON | Year Posted 2015

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A Long Journey Made Short

Little Innocence was forged into the world 
A shrill Sound flickered around the expecting eyes
Laughter carved out of marble 
A statue thought to beat immortality 
Yet Fear had a surprise
It crept into the cradle with ease
Laughter was choked
Tears burst instead
And Sadness had a form
Evil found in youth a red soil
Jealousy marched with Envy
Lust befriended Desire
Until cupid threw a bunch of arrows
Adventure appeared
Excitement beyond description
A Thrill with no past
Sentiments were aroused
Pride threw some words
Ego played its part
And when Love meddled to defend its territory
The Heart bled in utter silence! 


© Guru Jad 2013


Copyright © Guru Jad | Year Posted 2013

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A Love So True

A Love So True

A love so true is what I’ve found in you my dearest one!
The depth of our shared emotions defy all description,
As they excite and enchant every aspect of our lives.

A love so true is a quest I started long ago to find you!
One so special with that undeniable smile and laugh;
One possessed with that rare angelic heart of gold.

A love so true binds us together even in strife and tribulation!
We find our shared thoughts and love do sustain us each day.
We renew our passion and commitment without reservation.   

A love so true blessed by our Lord God in Heaven above!
He watches over us now and gives us His true love always.
We walk in His divine path now, two souls forever as one.

Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved,
January 13, 2016 (Unrhymed Tercet)


Copyright © Gary Bateman | Year Posted 2016

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Can you feel it

I have spent,
              a lifetime,
                       being calm___________cool collected---afraid to show the darkness!
U n a w a r e,
             of the freedom,
                        that comes from releasing the beast, no longer muzzling the dog!!!!
Growling low,
             from deep in my chest,
                                   fists clenched and released, red flush in my face and chest.
I feed off your fear,
                 as you look into my eyes,
                                        you my tormentor SURPRISED as you watch me rise.
Big man,
      see  my new found addiction,
                    I'm in a heightened state, no longer afraid, an uncontained contradiction.
Interruption,
            between heart and brain,
                                    moving from soft spoken to someone I can't explain!
Powerful emotion,
               to me my weakness personified,
                                letting my self completely go, spectating from deep inside.
ANGER  e r u p t s,
              fifty four years of playing the stamp collecting game,
                                         I'm the one at fault but others think you're to BLAME!

Written October 29, 2015

By: Richard Lamoureux

For Casarah's Dancing with description contest.

Note: this is eight lines stylized for visual effect.


Copyright © Richard Lamoureux | Year Posted 2015

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All That You Imagine

My imaginary restaurant will be named “All That You Imagine.”
Any food you can imagine, you will be served.
Thanks to technology and a world-class cooking staff,
I can offer my patrons any food that they desire.
However, they must book their table three days in advance!
If their wish is for a dish like their mama used to cook,
they need only provide my chefs with the recipe or its description.
If their palate leans to the exotic, they need only give its name.
My research team, like no other, can track down any foreign dish.

From All-American delights like mac‘n cheese or burgers and fries
to all the others: Indian, Mexican, Brazilian, Chinese, Italian, French,  
and the list goes on and on.  We can do it all! Everyone wants to come here!
By the way, my restaurant has become a tourist attraction.
Renowned for its varied and eclectic menus, it is visited by thousands daily.
If restaurants were malls, mine would be the largest and the most incredible.

Patrons may reserve a private room or choose a table 
from one of many wondrous atmospheric sections.
Each section is a restaurant in and of itself, with its own kitchen 
and a staff of waiters and waitresses dressed as befitting that section’s theme.
From jungle room to bar and grill to futurist (where servers dress in pristine white),
I have over one hundred types of settings to match the mood and the type of food;
some with karaoke, some with splendid views, utilizing IMAX, for example,
some with magic shows, others with comedy, and one room with a waterfall
where divers perform amazing feats. There are classic sections
where patrons may dance in ballroom style; imagine any type of music you like,
I am sure we have it in one of our beautiful sections!
For the romantics, candlelight dinners can be enjoyed next to a faux River Seine.

Tourists, for a small fee, may observe the many rooms in a guided tour.
We use technology that allows the tours to not disturb our diners.
It’s that same technology which allows my restaurant to flourish,
for expert computer techs arrange for the smooth operation
of matching patrons to sections and coordinating everything efficiently.
Favorite recipes may be purchased from us too in our gift shops.
Souvenirs and samples of our most popular food items 
are sold there along with a wide array of unique gifts!

Nothing is impossible in “All That You Imagine.” 
Well, except for one thing: No endangered specie, such as monkey or koala
will be served here!

(Getting ready to enter the contest I noticed I had misread the rules. Sorry, I don't know if I can redo it any other way. I am calling this prose and hoping it's acceptable!)


Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2016

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Angel

My Freeway Angel Caught between two cars There was no lane between them Who guided my hand? Steering crazily back and forth between them both It was harrowing At another time I was sideswiped by a rig on that same freeway My car went sideways to the front of a man’s truck I had no control I was being pushed as the trucker slowed his pace in his middle lane Before the truck stopped I wondered is this the end? I felt strangely calm My car then emerged faced against the traffic but on the embankment A few other times my tires had big bad blowouts I came out unscathed I’ve stayed uninjured through all my mishaps but not so lucky - my cars! Have I been lucky or is a freeway angel looking after me? For the Senryu on Angels Poetry Contest of Marvin Celestial True story written with senryu syllable count. I would like to think I have an angel, but I can't really say for sure! Contest Description: 1 original, poem on the theme of true encounters with Angels Only Senryu form will be accepted with the title "Angel / Angels."


Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2016

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Lake Breaking News

Lake Breaking News

Early this morning, there was a robbery
A turtle mugged a snail down by the pond
The shell the turtle jacked, was off the poor snail's back
and when he turned around, the thief was gone

He went down to the station, after much deliberation
And told the cops his story at last.
With such a keen depiction, they asked for a description
But, the snail said it happened much to fast 


Copyright © Jerry T Curtis | Year Posted 2015

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The Word

In the beginning was the word
Before that, no noun, no thing
Then no sound was ever heard
And no passing bell would ring

So therefore no adjective was needed to describe it or deplore it
No preposition required to be positioned right before it

No verb to do something to it or say what act it was pursuing
No need for an adverb to describe how well or badly it was doing

Since not even one noun existed, conjunctions would have been redundant
There were no things to act on and to move across the face of the fundament 

So the first word there had to be - was BE, and that was the very first in existence
And from Genesis and Eden to Elsinore, it has had a remarkable degree of persistence

Now, in the Oxford English Dictionary which is venerable institution
There are 171476 full entries of words (2nd edition) all capable of elocution

Of these, about one seventh are verbs, therefore there must be around 24497 give or take, to enumerate all action
And that should be enough for even the most garrulous to get some satisfaction

This is a limited calculation and I wouldn't want to be tied down to it 
We can be more free in our estimates so while we are about it, we might as well do it

It seems that once BE had been exercised, the dam broke and words poured out as from a cornucopia. 
And verbs would soon exist in an abundance enough to carry you from here to Ethiopia

Except in the culture of youth where it appears this multitude has been reduced to the deplorable "was like"
To them I am tempted to say: "Learn some real verbs"; OR I would employ a phrasal such as
 'On-your-bike!'

The possibilities are now endless particularly if you include the phrasal
Giving us enough elan vital to at least maintain a metabolism basal

So to whoever first said BE, whether God or someone with similar propensities 
though another name or description:
I say Well done! I couldn't in my wildest dreams with a wish to create a rich life and culture, 
have produced a better prescription


Copyright © Geoffrey Brewer | Year Posted 2017

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My India

Let me set something straight -
Right here, right now!
Let me put India in the right perspective,
Let me banish some myths,
Some gross misconceptions,
And take you beyond elephants,
Sacred cows, snake charmers and yoga,
Beyond Gandhi, Mother Teresa, Taj Mahal,
To a civilization rooted for
over 5,000 years in the past
To a land rich - majestically rich -
In many cultures, customs and traditions,
In a bewildering variety of races,
Religions, languages and folk arts,
In a vibrant tradition of dance and music,
In religious festivals and traditional events,
In saints, sadhus, gurus and sages,
In gods, goddesses, munis and mahatmas,
In temples, palaces, shrines and monasteries;

I'll baby-steps you through a land
Of Vedas and Upanishads,
Of epic stories and incredible mythologies,
Of Ramayana, Mahabharata and Bhagavad Gita,
Through one of world's great spiritual sanctuaries,
Where religion is a way of life;

An overwhelming, complex land -
Its charm, its vitality and yes, its confusion,
Atonce alarming and enticing.
And that's the way India is:
Elusive, confusing, contradictory,
mysterious and exasperating!
Beyond easy description or analysis,
A phenomenal diversity of dress
and manners making one aware
of a different world -
A veritable fairyland!

No other country offers quite such
A spectacle of teeming masses that
continue to enrich the heritage of mankind,
Nowhere do the past and present
coexist in more colorful promiscuity -
An incomparable country,
Easy to love, hard to forget!

"There's only one India!" raved Mark Twain,
"A wonderland of fabulous wealth
and fabulous poverty, of splendor and rags ..."
"The cradle of the human race,
The birthplace of human speech,
The mother of history,
The grandmother of legend and
The great grandmother of tradition."

This, indeed, is my country
Where I was born - 
An Indian at heart,
An American in spirit!
Namaste!
Khuda Hafiz, Jai Ramji Ki,
OM Radhe Shyam, Sat Sri Akal,
Jai Hind!!



Copyright © Abdul Malik | Year Posted 2013

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Memory Quilt

Memory Quilt       “ For Auction contest “

Welcome all to today’s prestige event
Let us start the day ladies and gentlefolk
We have this wonderful memory quilt 
For your deliberation and delectation today
It was made by two elderly spinster sisters 
When they decided to do this quilt they decided a pattern
And they thought they would use pieces from dresses
The one they wore in their younger years
There are pieces from a day dresses, morning, and evening
Each one holding a special memory for them both
As they had worn them to many events when young
Each section of cloth has been cut very precise and sew with loving care
A selection of shapes are involved in this,
The principle ones, lozenge and triangle shape to form the main squares
This then makes up the size large enough to be used on the bed
They embellished it with heart and circles and lovely flowers
These being the decorations from the dresses themselves
This work took the sister six years to lovingly to complete
And it is all hand stitched onto a pale blue linen cloth to hold it complete
This wonderful piece comes with a description of each dress
Also on which occasion it was worn by either of them
It became an item beyond price to them when it was finished 
I hope ladies and gentlemen that this will give some idea 
Of the memories, work and heart ache involved 
In the making of this superb memory quilt
I know that this quilt will reach a very high price today
Myself I would place a bid of fifteen thousand
But it will not be enough I fear



Copyright © MARY GRACE | Year Posted 2016

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Autumn Love



Have written a number of love poems never one with so much meaning As I near the end of my seventy-nineth year My love is more melancholy leaning Been lovestruck for quite a number of years But now with my advancing age Our union is even more precious than ever Our love has turned a new page Tinged with a kind of quiet contentment Like a favourite easy chair Just to feel the presence of your soul mate And the love the two of you share No other feeling can even come close It defies conventional description It's the culmination of a lifetime of love In the purest form, no restrictions Why is it we only discover real love When the leaves on the trees start to fall We spend a lifetime in search of that moment When it was right beside us after all © Jack Ellison 2014


Copyright © Jack Ellison | Year Posted 2014