Best Devoted Poems
Always asking question
The devoted daughter of the moon
revels in starlight
Sweet to the touch, the taste
She dances around an eternal campfire
The night wears on
Still she dances!
She will dance this way until dawn
when the bright rays of the sun
will send her looking for shelter
One million dawnsa and one million
dreams later
She'll awaken
to cast her glow
upon our epoch
which is in sore need
of tinsel and starlight
Tears of destruction running down my face
Thoughts of decieval all over the place
Blood drops of red
Are runninng down my head
Emptiness surrounds
Darkness too
My thoughts are seduced by visions of you
Pale colored promises
Broken lies
The truth of deception refects in your eyes
I hover back and forth under a dim lamp
Waiting for his grip to open the door;
My breath pulses at a beloved’s sight
As one circle of tear envelops these eyes--
That my body melts away... down to its core
When nights faraway plead for his return.
Though a soldier’s toil rakes a heart in silence
Never can love be more intensely pure...
For he is an eternal fire, a song, a universe
Ordained by destiny to cradle life’s hours;
Commanding time its unfolding of our dreams—
I am his soul-woman, the moonglow amidst tempest
While he, he protects me with his blood
The rush of zeal on ember and quietude,
Cherishing my essence with reverence...
In devout fervor, he saves me from the darkness
Of waiting through long evening’s haul---
And into the gloam of morning, I breathe him in as mine.
---------------
07/04/2019
Slave To Love Contest sponsored by John Hamilton
D-evoted servant of God
E-arnestly lives by His command;
M-issing not the worship
I-nside the temple in the land.
T-hird of September Sunday,
A-n early praise is held;
D-evoted servant of the Lord
U-ses the love unparalleled.
R-emain constantly pious,
A-s your faith is kept radiant;
N-o sign of being recreant is seen to the devoted servant.
For Trudy Diane Rider's competition entitled "Hopelessly devoted" (what is your passion)
rhyming required ababbcc:
My mind is racing as I vacate my bed
I need to grab my lap top fast as hell
What rhymes with bed? - it could be red or dead
What rhymes with hell? - perhaps a tolling bell
As my poem emerges, hope it all will gel
I wake each day with rhythm and beat, it's great
To pen it all and see it in print, can't wait.
Buzzing with feelings and words not yet agreed
Muttering syllables, throughout the alphabet
Beating out time and meter at a high speed
When in the soup, will take any help I can get
As beautiful words can change one's whole mindset
I wake each day with rhythm and beat, it's great
To pen it all and see it in the print, can't wait.
Ballads and sonnetts, epics, Haiku's and more
Works by Keats I'll read and then I'll expand
Writing odes to doves and sea birds now ashore
In my native town, midst the sun, sea and the sand
Then I'll dream of Heaney and Joyce and Yeats - And
I'll wake each day with rhythm and beat, it's great
To pen it all and see it in print, can't wait.
It's such a buzz to finally get it out
Inking that picture captured by me alone
Reading it over there sure will be some doubt
Though magic in words that only I can own
Original, seeds that I have newly sewn
I'll wake each day with rhythm and beat, it's great
To pen it all and see it in print, can't wait.
Take a breath in, let it out.
No need to worry what it’s about.
My heart is open for you to love.
Where that came from there is more of.
Grabbing for your hand as we walk side by side,
For your enduring affection I will abide by.
True love pegs me by surprise.
I catch you gleaming into my eyes.
Your gentle touch caresses my soul.
The move you make next is quite bold.
Catching my breath as the world spins,
Not always knowing what I’ve gotten in.
But with you I am one with in every way.
So in love are we from the very first day.
Laughter and tears we will always share.
You are beautiful and kind and I know you care.
Whispering words of reassurance in my ear.
For no more will I ever live in fear.
You made me whole and brought me to living.
You aren’t a taker, just a man of giving.
Grateful am I for you in my life.
Letting go of the demons and strife.
Living in harmony and challenging times, too.
I know that I will always be devoted to you.
She is the most demanding cat who ever shared my home.
She stares at me so balefully till I do what she wants,
And yet I love her more than any other cat I’ve owned.
She tramples on my feelings as she tramples on my plants
Then stalks away with nothing more than a disdainful glance.
Some people say of pussies, that you can’t tell them apart …
I treat all mine as equals … but Pandora has my heart ...
He had been laying in a coma
For days, and weeks on end,
The Doctor finally said
No more can we pretend.
I think we must do something
For his body to let it rest,
There is nothing more to do
There is no other test.
He was speaking to the family
And they finally all agreed,
But a voice within the shadow said
"You didn't speak with me"
The vacant eyes of the patient
Gave a gentle stare,
The pulse became much stronger,
The brain much more aware.
The stranger in the background
Left without a trace,
No one knew just who he was,
As they never saw his face.
Miracles do happen
Every now and then,
And in the faded shadow stands,
Our most devoted friend.
Lynn Barany
People are, constantly, selfishly numbering their troubles endlessly
While you are listening to them patiently and hopelessly
They write elegies describing unrequited love, themselves,
Their pain, feeling blue,
But this elegy is only for you-
Everyone is writing sad poems, and self-centered, too
However, my poem is devoted to violence, to violence against you
Today, I saw a dead bird on the road
Its death made me see again this horror,
It left me to endure humiliation, over and over again-
To watch faces, innumerable, impersonal, coarse, covetous faces,
Who rush every morning to destroy you
Haste, hatred and indifference are jostling down the streets
Crazed women are shopping, peeking into shop windows greedily,
Throwing away papers and bills on the sidewalk
Some men are drinking and smoking in a tavern
Cigarette smoke, trivial conversations
Erase and kill everything, even love is contaminated
By the touch of their dirty fingers
Chimneys and cars are turning the air into smelly haze
Snarling machines, squeaky sirens
Override chirping of birds and children`s laughter
Gardens made of plastic bags bloom on the river banks
The souls of dead swans are floating on grey lakes,
Enclosed by sadness of poets
The sea is bleeding, bringing waste back on the sand
And you are crying over the man,
Who was a long, long time ago,
Clad in beauty and who is now dressed in wrecks
In your tears, I see the universe and despair of your silver companion
You are still spinning noiselessly,
Changed, old, wrapped in a shabby veil,
Your wrinkles, made of concrete roads and towers
Are becoming deeper and deeper, your gowns are worn-out
You are still spinning, persistently and compassionately,
Going nowhere, into the empty future
People are constantly, selfishly numbering their troubles endlessly
While you are listening to them, patiently and hopelessly
They write elegies describing unrequited love, themselves,
Their pain, feeling blue,
But this elegy is only for you-
Everyone is writing sad poems, and self-centered, too
However, my poem is devoted to violence, to violence against you
Her faith must have come from her mother's voice:
that woman who took her to church taught her how to pray,
perhaps angels resemble her in her pure innocence;
does Lily ever skips a prayer...wouldn't she rather play?
For now her stuffed dolls lay on the neat carpet with a Glade's rose scent,
later she will rewind the red music box and listen to hymns...
while mages of Heaven appear within the clouds of the escaping sunset;
she knows that it's the home of children who died of an illness.
" Lord, you made all that these small eyes see and admire...
let me grow up without pain and fear, yet much I have to accomplish;
my desire is a wish for peace that all can feel and share,
let evil replace goodness, and light darkness: never to be buried in ash! "
The calm evening of August brings on the shrieking sound of a lonely cricket;
she hears rustling noises coming from the trees below, but she shivers a bit:
what could it be? She peeks and sees an owl perched, and his cry stupefies,
did he come to watch her devoted hands of child that pray as the mist intensifies?
Be my soul’s keeper protecting me through the night as I sleep, as I dream.
Stay with me throughout my days.
Watch over me protect me from this crazy place.
Shelter my heart with your silvery wings carry my spirit gently in your keep.
Caress my soul with your loving breath.
Wake me from my weary heart, revitalize my energies light.
Reach down touch me give me the strength to carry on another day.
Help me to see the love that lives within.
Grant me the endurance I need to survive a darkening world.
Look down upon a wandering sprite.
Escort me to a brighter light.
Touch me with a smile.
Lead me to the brave who will be fighting chaos’s advancing enchantments.
Take away the idle minds
Teach me how to stimulate.
Help me to ignite the crusaders hearts.
Allow me to write the voices echoing in my brain.
Let the laughter, the smiles I create help to heal a lonely realm.
Be my soul’s keeper protecting me through the night as I sleep, as I dream.
Stay with me throughout my days.
With your gifts you have granted me, my spirit grows sounder.
My allure beginning to bloom, rays of light can now shine through.
Know in my devoted heart, I will never give up the fight.
*** Devoted, Choosing to Hold ***
Engaged
By your spirit;
My heart to yours; my heart’s hoping ~
Choosing,
Not that long after we met.
Completely to embrace you.
And you,
Losing your heart to me, choosing
To commit yourself to a “hand-full”
(in terms of the creative personality
as defined by experts**).
You,
from a southern town;
a male; “ minister’s kid;”
curious about outer-space;
quiet; student; survivor; an
admirable man; introvert, but
socially generous and well-liked;
an engineer; brother of five; fan of
blues/jazz; witty; reader; hard-worker;
compassionate; empathetic;
politically/socially concerned;
fond of cats; caregiver.
And so,
Beloved,
I suspect you
Took more
Into your hands and heart ~ likely
More than you could imagine, for
I am nearly your opposite:
female/ extrovert/ Christian mystic/
poet/ artist/
reader/ talkative/ teacher/
sibling of one/ survivor/
- former - former - politically/socially
ballerina/ Cc 1970’s hippie concerned/
quick to sing but not always in tune/
now need 24/7 care due to physical illness/ quick to laugh/
easy to weep/ compassionate/ empathetic/
from densely urban north/ loves dogs.
Devoted,
Here, loving
We live; sharing
Our full hearts
And this day,
Into tomorrow,
Giving thanks to Abba
For blessings, and for
Inspiring this love
That holds us so
Well together.
——————————————————————————————————————
* notes — experts: Will Durant, Colin McGinn, Hildegard of Bingen,
Richard Rohr, Fr. Thomas Merton, Rabbi Rami Shapiro,
,Makoto Fujtimmurgay
ALSO!……when searching for the FORM for this poem, I looked for “experimental” or “avant-garde” but neither is on the list. .
(c) sally young eslinger 10/10/22
Thanks be to God!
Devoted to the ocean am I,
ever since I was a small fry.
Daddy taught me to swim,
the first time I was in with him.
Diving from the steps at the pier,
the higher the dive, the louder the cheer.
Few things compare to a skinny dip,
running in unseen in the nip.
In summer when the seawater heats,
I just can't wait to bathe my feet.
Even in winter when seagulls screech,
it's soothing to walk along the beach.
Cares and worries drift away
as I walk along the bay.
Blessed am I to live close by,
when devoted to the ocean am I.
04/08/2019
For Chantelle Anne Cooke's contest
Devoted To The Ocean
Written: March 08, 2024
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
We would be devoted ever
I swore I would never bequeath you, you're my love.
forged never
walk near me dear.
despite, where our lifetime may shove
sincere
gold cord
souls bound as dove
Lord
we would be devoted ever
despite, where our lifetime may shove
Lord
No one ever had a more devoted super patron.
He marveled at every painting and poem I thought up.
He cheered at each of my gaudy crazy color choices,
He toasted all my thoughts with a golden glass tribute cup.
He wanted to buy all, the first time I had a white arts and crafts carnival tent.
I was against this of course, wanting a chance to sell to others, to share my soul.
This life is not yours, he said, you are more sensitive, artistic, heaven-sent.
But I wanted to sell to excited children, and their mothers, that was my goal.
My marvelous patron talked me into selling online, and that worked out for a bit.
I was gleeful and happy and awhirl with joy with each sale, so tried and true.
But when I went to visit him, and saw each painting in his home, I threw a hissy fit.
I wanted to sell to others, I said, I didn’t want all of them to be sold to you.
Now when I sell a painting or a poem, I run home all aquiver, excitedly glad.
Sales always chase away any insane feelings of disappointment or unexpected gloom.
I have a patron who believes in me, a man who is honest, and never a cad.
Best of all, to deliver it, all I have to do is walk to my own living room.