Best Dominates Poems
“Next Chapter”
There will always be a next chapter
Written or not, this is of no matter
What matters is the colour forming in your world
Black is not a colour, it dominates, shades and swallows other colours up,
It exists to be blended with White, a vacant aberration one can easily fill in and colour over
What one is looking for is the colour in the spectrum, not yet found
To be newly created with all available emotions to hand and heart and mind
There will always be a next chapter
Written or not, this is of no matter
What matters is the colour forming in your world
Beginning
End? there never is an end
What matters is the colour forming in your world
(Lovejoy-Burton/2018 March)
STILL LIFE WITH FRUIT
In spite of the orchard
A far white moon dominates
Its sick room presence lifts the eye
Still life with fruit –
Crescent dish with bananas, apples, pears -
A wrinkled bed spread falls off the sky
In all an angular canvas,
A drowsy cubist squint,
Imposed shapes, lines – Picasso pie
This pointed, silver vase pokes through
Its ample gift of flowers,
Destroys the view – Oh, my!
I’ve come to, limp right arm yet hangs over,
Attendant tells, “Breakfast time. You hungry?
Let’s sit up. There! Good guy.”
Dave Austin
Pretending can be a bold form of experimentation
and inventiveness. In pretending joy or happiness,
we may discover or enhance our capacity for it.
Harriet Lerner
Lord Leofric: The waging of war is man’s affair
Lady Godiva: Then wage war in your way, M’Lord,
and I’ll wage war in mine
Movie, Lady Godiva of Coventry (1955)
MASQUERADE
Quivers the man traversing the icescape.
Queen dominates the saddle with her eyes.
Size five, bare, narrow feet melt snowy floor.
Masquerade - his wife dreamy in disguise.
Flesh, smooth as ice rink, after zamboni.
Warm hearth behind the seven veils of d’sire.
Godiva tresses descend to her knees.
Bright red lips, parting flames, a flute of fire.
Singes where cherry makes contact...shivers
and moans like Winter Nor’easter through trees.
Memories malleable — tongue to ink.
Lobe, neck, thighs surrender to cold night tease.
Quiet warmth underneath the satin sheets.
His eyes wide open - concedes his defeat.
2/1/2021
Sensual Poetry
Sponsor: Charlotte Puddifoot
HMS Line 1 lists icescape as 3 syllables but it is 2
Meaning of oath no longer has a covenant
Guaranteeing to future commitment of pledge
Rendering futile all promises of yesterdays
As grief ridden past dominates today's sorrow
For hope's now dead, as there's no tomorrow.
Yet, I reminisce within glory of daybreaks
And opulence of colors in grandeur of sunsets
Spinning on earth's axis as night follows day
Across all continents where vast oceans reign,
And vibrant blue sky makes bold new claims
About perpetual dawns boasting on its domain
Bond of enduring love that never ever ends
Where enchanted dreams ecstatically chase.
Alas, I grasp grudgingly realities I must face--
Eternal that was indelible lasts only till today
And definition of infinity forever has changed--
Precious little time left that was once endless.
So I bid farewell, before world-beloved dissipates,
To memoirs of yore, allures of tomorrow;
Shedding all regrets, purging lovelorn woes,
Cherishing instead most intimate ornate secrets
Arrayed in desires of beautiful flower bouquets
Granting love romantic stage for one final play.
August 21, 2019
Placed 1st: What if there was no tomorrow contest
Sponsor: Silent One
BEAUTY ABIDES
Beauty abides, and as her lover,
I lift her veil to see transparent eyes glimmering
with an enticement worthy of seduction.
Touching some primordial passion,
she wreaks havoc on my senses.
And graces me with unspoken words
that promise delightful pleasure.
Beauty reigns as Queen supreme.
Upon her throne she emanates majesty
with an exquisite demeanor and
I stand back intimidated and shy.
Who can reframe this emotion?
Not a poet or artists brush.
Her soft rolling hills and gentle valleys;
expectations of undiscovered treasures
fire an imaginative pose
I am bound up in a mystic rush
that dominates like a drug's addiction.
And in a exotic haze I lie dreaming
of ephemeral caresses,
highly charged currents
that flow unrestricted around
her coveted reactive spaces.
Alone, with thoughts in time displaced,
I wonder, does she entrance all others?
Or in my silent muse am I the only one
transformed and felled by her abstract beauty?
Her allure is enduring, enshrined for all to see.
The recherche picture of her memory
never grows old and she still remains
indelibly imprinted on my erotic mind.
CAK
10-12-2012 Revised 9-25-2013
SYNOPSIS
A question for you...
1.) Is the poem about a woman?
2.) or is it about a beautiful mountainous valley?
Reality's a harsh truth,
that dominates existence.
And I cannot escape it,
no matter how hard I try.
You got me to believe we'd
be together forever.
But your lies and betrayal,
tore my naive heart apart.
Love's indomitable flame,
was abruptly extinguished.
And its demise was painful;
fueling deep depression.
Fate spun a fickle fortune,
sowing threads of trust with doubt.
And yet, hope has the power
to resurrect dying dreams.
Happiness cannot stray far,
for it's tethered to my heart.
And there will come a day when
I'll be happy, once again.
It promised to be a bright starry night
as the sun dipped over the horizon.
Poignantly poised the few clouds scatter
as majestically the moon makes her appearance.
So close as she starts her nightly sweep
her rays near bright as day, regally
she dominates the dark sending it to oblivion as
she highlights this and that according to her whim.
Fickly she slips behind some clouds and
plunges the lands into inky darkness.
Laughing with glee she travels to her zenith
hovering there perfectly framed in beauty.
Now past her apex time rushes on as she dips down
her stellar light slowly begins to fade away.
With a final flick she bathes the world in silver
then bows to the dawning sun as she slips away
MUSTANGS
The ground shudders, and shakes,
Under pounding hooves.
Echoing against canyon walls.
Fast and furious wild hearts beat,
Keeping equal pace, with the prairies,
Wide divide.
From within hell's fiery furnace,
Tempered muscle drives motions sinew.
Behold evolution's die hard breed,
Built for no other purpose except,
Excessive Speed.
Racing along at razors edge,
Accelerating testing endurance's,
Brute strength.
Mustangs roam god's vast expanse,
Deserts devils burning blazing trails.
Encounters ghostly figures, dwelling amongst,
Forbidden territories reservations.
Dust clouds shadow creatures alluding,
Humanities intensive detection.
Harnessing destiny's forgotten beasts,
Freedom's native horses challenging,
Limitless domain.
Blackened pitch melting seamlessly,
Mixing with hewed grays.
Heaven's canvas erupts.
Storms rage splits lightening’s,
Aftershock,
Herding horse flesh towards,
Maximum Resolution.
Divine specters haunting thunders,
boarder lands, slick footed range warriors.
Traveling hidden roads ancient paths.
Natures raw power hardens brutalities
Magnificence.
Rival Arabians fight to prove dominates.
One lone stallion stands, dark bristling mane,
Brushed by evenings cooling breeze.
The leader takes cliffs highest plateau.
As silences experienced guardian,
He watches cautiously.
Resting at sunsets twilight hour,
Quenching thirsts, unyielding desires.
Next to waters crystal streams they ease.
Gently relieving tension's strains
Beside one another.
Comforts unity beneath reflective,
Moonlight's softness.
Mares and colts whinny in graduates,
Thanks.
Soon it shall come upon them,
Once more.
Dawn's rays cross horizons palette,
Under universal skies.
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
Misunderstood, trapped and rarely
considered an equal; confusion
dominates many faces that try to
comprehend my broken voice.
No-one seems to recognise my
body language and unusual hand movements.
Wrong conclusions are drawn towards
my level of intelligence; many view me
like a lost child desperate to be one with
its mother.
I may speak the English language but
it appears broken; my voice is thus
lost, like a treasured belonging long
been misplaced somewhere unknown.
My hearing remains but I speak like
a deaf person; hand gestures are made
to try to convey my thoughts and emotions,
sadly, hardly anyone has learned how to
interpret someone like myself.
I am voiceless and thus I seem not to
belong in this world of fragmented images
of what is deemed normal.
Regardless of my affliction I remain as
whole as I can possibly be.
I smell no Jasmines, Daisies or Geraniums this Summer
Nor my soul desires an ancient amphora
Crimson riddles my skin
My mind is an Amethyst.
An Amaranth a fixed star; an amulet
To which my neurons ebb and flow.
Purple radiates in shades
Violet Veins. My palpitations are magenta.
My heart is a deeper shade of purple. This summer.
Like a wound under a microscope.
I long to plot the anelemma of my thoughts
Protons in blue and electrons in amber.
Yet purple dominates my neurons like a clumsily drawn tube map.
In my mind, a soft ray of violet makes a lemniscate
Other colours, smells and senses, an oblivion await.
* This is an exercise in one colour :)
Certificate U
Poem
LOVE AGAIN
On this day, when tricky time
Has already turned love into wry rust,
When forgetting dominates
Bits- and -pieces remembering,
I forget you like I forget my red rose,
Standing alone , old and gnarled
At the far end of my yard,
Its leaves more blighted than green,
Its twigs more stunted than straggly,
Its butterflies more fitful than flit-ful.
But when I remember, it is like
Its rare , single bloom overpowering
Me with its same old fragrance
Into a spasm of fond recognition..
19 Jun 12
S.Jagathsimhan Nair
For SKAT's contest, 'Old romantic poems'
"Witness of You"
by: Eric L. Boddie
Before my own eyes, it has been seen
The true potential of a pair of jeans
Another example of His Wonderful Grace
I'm sure that's why He Dressed it with your face
Bringing it all together along with your frame
The differences between one and one and you and sexy are the same
You define the journey desired by a man's heart
Because the path traveled leads to a place where he and happiness never part
Love and Life are at the essence of your Soul
So Blessed is the man who gets to watch you grow old
Unified with sexy, Beauty dominates your essence
Therefore, all negativity lessens
Vibrancy....radiance....in you, their glow is so relentless
It's just the Power of His Glory, and I am proud to be a witness
Staring, vapor locked, at my Hammond B-3 console organ, which dominates my
kitchen. Surely a symbol of my madness. I can't help, but think, if the keys were
the days of my life, and the black ones represented the bad days, are there
enough black keys?? Fighting petulance, self-pity...losing...
Wondering if I can stand another minute alone. Atop my organ, music books,
and the complete works of Edgar Allan Poe, another mad poet.
Plagued by physical agonies that merely complete a perfect circle of anguish
and distress. Even to worrying of misspelling a word again. Pure lunacy.
Remembrance of my 1863 death at Missionary Ridge, something I became
aware of as a young child before I'd ever heard of reincarnation. Or just an early
sign of the madness to come??
I am lost in a befouling miasma of deep despair. My life's hopes down to 2
desires; one last music band, and taking my son to Disneyworld. Money is
meaningless to me.
I am well aware that death is as natural as life. And I would venture to guess
that the loss of my father, my young cousin Billy, my dear friend Mark Trotiner, and
too many others, are "Business As Usual" in this universe. But not for me.
Being terminally ill myself is something I have long since come to terms with.
And what a reunion it will be!! But I must continue to go on surviving as though I
cherish this long and barren life.
My writing, especially my poetry, my poet friends, my music, my musician
friends, and a few relatives and others; these are the meds that work for me; not
the 30 or so pills I must deal with everyday. So thank you all.
And now an addendum, one which brightened my day:
Mark Trotiner long maintained that he gave Mark Knoffler (Dire Straights) the
idea for his hit song "Money For Nothing", when Mark Knoffler came into the
appliance chain store he worked in way back then, where he bought, and drove
off with several T.V.s, singing the prototype words he'd gotten from Mark Trotiner.
Over the years, I tested him repeatedly, looking for the tale-tell deviation in the
story one finds in a false tale. He never faltered, he never failed.
Continued.....
When you dig deep down into your heart what is it that you find?
Do you feel who you are?
When I search mine I don’t find feelings of any kind
Are they just dormant?
Or am I just blind?
Have they been extinguished forever?
Have they been taken prisoner by these chains that bind?
Hopefully they will come back someday soon so I can feel again
I need them to help push out the thunderstorm that dominates my mind
i see many times where i should have died during my previous style of living
someone something was watching over me i rather not assume
the matter of will is the more difficult part of me
i have experienced enough emotioinal pain through failed attempts at love
anxiously awaiting for the calm after the storm
i tend to hinder myself to be released from self confinement but convince myself to go forward
i am no longer a slave to misery or regret
yet in so many ways enslavement still threatens myself my desires and my dreams
without dreams i'm stuck
i must go deep inside the core of my being to free myself
until i do i will always be running and never truly at ease
insanity dominates my life at times and the essence of my disease
i tend to get chained to negativity with no cutting loose
power can remove these character defects from me when i don't practice deception
i like the idea of admitting defeat it sets me free