Best Dove Poems
How fast to wiles I fell my damask rose,
awake from slumber slept untold ages.
To gaze so deep in ocean eyes repose,
and print whispered prayer on mind's pages.
Your soul in gleaming shadow found complete,
a thirst no other want or wish contrived.
Nor cherry grown upon the branch so sweet,
without cold and dark of Winter survived.
What heart loved without a madness looming,
secure from injury sure to tarnish.
Unbroken, though lone in sadness' glooming,
and held away from love's fruited garnish.
How true the dove devoted in flight still,
that lasted in love, more than ever will.
little Rock
Doves at my feet
Imploring eyes watch
as I eat and I will share my
lunch with you not
shoo you away
like others do
for I recognize
your tam'ed nature
Am greatly pained by your
fallen stature Dovecotes kept since
Ancient times Now you're persecuted
for our crimes Considered dirty flying vermin
Might I suggest a different sermon Giving Praise
To Thee Dear Dove our oldest symbol of Peace and Love
in times of war you have served us well For our men you flew
and fell Honored couriers meritorious saving lives on wings glorious
not just for your flight to flourish But by your eggs and meat to
nourish Been kept for sport and even pet Pigeons are Doves we do
forget sporting the same flute like coo and
head bobbing meet-cute "How do you do?"
************************ One and The same as famed in fable ********
Ordained therein by King Eagle
"...your name shall be used, dear Dove
as long as the world shall last, for Love" Of
course of course we are all mortal yet you are
birds above and moral Models of monogamy and
doting parents Bonded family and lucky for us City
dwellers amid the chaos you little fellers happily our
Birds of Peace break bread with us on our streets
In The Name Of Dove!
Modest woman moderate woman
Your inner beauty strikes me
Like the tongue of noble eloquence
More than gold even refined gold
Or our purged fulgent silver.
Black woman proud woman
Your pride is not haughty
But a humble pride of eaglets;
Your black eyes are so glittering
As the eyes of our dark rivers
Filled with messages of peace
That banish the broody turmoil
From those panting hearts
Of your foreigned offsprings.
Gentle mother diligent mother
Your kindness kindles the fires
Of my heart –
Your dexterity dresses
The table of our ageless history
And the thought of your being
– Oh kind mother! –
Makes the most delicious menu
For my heart.
I remember your naked feet
Fast and fair as a pigeon’s limbs
Treading the invisible paths
Almost covered by shrubs
Small shrubs misted by the prime mist.
I remember the wood from the wood
The water from the water
And manifold items from jungle alleys
Borne by your delicate hands
And upon your soft black-haired head.
I remember the constant match
To markets and to farms
And your bright face smeared with
The ash dust
Making you more beautiful
Than any woman whose feet
Ever touched the naked earth.
I remember those burdens
Upon your cheerful kin-souls
And babies strapped to your backs
Babes full of unspoken words
To unborn others in patient wombs
Waiting in an endless turn –
Indeed, mother is dove!
A black dove and a dark huntress
A hunter’s gift from the maker?
Mother is like a weaver-bird
Building a big foot-like nest
Filled with corn and warmth
A bundle of eagle-flight
Mother is dove
And the hunter calls her
The clan’s eternal dove.
Oh, mother loving woman
Gentle as our black horizon
To you we humbly come
From these far and lonely lands
Hoping to grace our love and beauty
Before that jealous grave
Makes her temporary feast.
I felt ashamed today
I should have not spoken that way.
My love was annoyed and left.
I was surprised by all the dialogue bereft.
Worse the telephone ceased to work,
In anger, I threw down the phone with a jerk.
Saddened by my uncouth manner
Our love must remain a winner.
How to send her a message of sorrow?
I dared not wait for tomorrow.
A message I would send with haste,
No, no, not a moment to waste.
I wrote a note and stuck it to my dove.
With all the words that spelt love.
Fly, sweet white dove, fly to her home
No time to wander or to roam,
Straight to her loving arms, fly sweet bird
Let her message of love be heard.
Gather around the sacred fire, my children
Let the embers' glow spark your curiosity
as we begin on this journey together;
to the time of how things once were,
to the time of how things came to be
In the beginning,
there was no war, only peace
There was no hate, only love
Harmony existed between all things,
it was the age when the eagle flew alongside the dove
Now the eagle lived high in the cliff of a great mountain,
and the dove lived in the lush valley below
And the seasons continued unabated,
from the summer's heat to the winter's snow
Then one day as the eagle sat, perched high atop his domain,
an evil thought entered his heart,
that only he alone over everything should reign
He felt because he was the most powerful bird,
his voice should always have the final word
So he gathered the other birds together,
to have them agree to make him their chief
The falcon and the hawk said they liked the idea
The raven and the owl said lets not be so hasty
The debate went on for days,
and the eagle grew restless with each passing hour
Until the stork delivered him a message,
during one spring early morning shower
The message said that the dove and the swan,
never came to a meeting, no not once
Thus, the eagle flew down to the edge of the pond,
and asked the swan about his absence
The swan said such matters concern him not,
let he who rule, let him rule just
As for the whereabouts of the dove, the swan said
he was in a cove by the big tree with the chestnuts
The eagle went and confronted the dove,
and accused him of stalling his coronation oblation
The dove replied with a gentle reproof,
saying to go down this wicked path will divide the earth into two nations
One will love war, and the other will love peace
One will hate killing, and the other will hate mercy
One will love freedom, and the other will love slavery
One will hate healing the pain, the other will hate causing hurt and misery
The eagle got angry at what the dove had to say,
and they no longer flew together after that day
So now you know, children, the story of the eagle and the dove
Which will you choose?
Will you choose to love hate,
or choose to live the peaceful way
Will you choose to hate love,
or choose to possess the spirit of a dove
Little dove, gentle dove
show me your heart
the key to your love
ne're more shall part
for my heart is raptured
your kindness abounds
my love is captured
your sweetness surrounds
Little dove, gentle dove
you've stolen my heart
you taught me to love
a new life does start
You've caressed me in ways
few have known
I bless the days
with you I've flown
“A white dove in your path is not by coincidence. Your awareness of its presence, calmness and beauty is also a gift. You were meant to see this dove to remind you to focus on the peace you have in your heart and that is always present all around you, and in your life"
last night i mourned you
watching memories
unfold around me
until i was mourning
each of you gone from life
i stared at death
touching its cold
still lifeless form
i blew kisses
at your breathless
silent lips
afraid to press
my own against
the frigid cold
and again taste
the bitterness of death
i clasped my hands
and dropped to my knees
in prayers
today you were laid
beneath the frozen ground
as memories crumbled
around me like leaves
my tears clung to the edges
of my sullen eyes
as winter's breath
reminded me
how fragile
we all are
i was saddened
i couldn't be there
but knew my weakness
from so many before
perhaps i couldn't stand
on my own two feet
and watch again
as another was buried
beneath the soil
i went on my way
deep in thoughts
when suddenly
as i was driving along
staring at the depths
of azure skies
silently watching
as the trees
reached for the sun
i felt at peace
i shifted my eyes
staring in disbelief
as a white dove
flew by my windshield
barely clearing it
in perfect view
for me to see
the beauty
of him
through him
at that very moment
i knew he was sent
to bring me peace
and feel the depths
of love still in existence
within the depths
of my heart
The tiger, majestic and proud
Fearless, strong and solitary
A predator by nature
Domineering yet wary
The dove, gentle and harmonious
Passive and apprehensive
A free spirit by nature
But always on the defensive
The jungles most perilous feline
Encounters the fragile dove
A most unlikely pair
Yet they have found love
Their journey will be a challenge
Obstacles in every direction
A never ending conflict
Between rage and affection
Each possesses, what the other lacks
Complimenting and yet taunting
A compromise of character
Is what they are wanting
She wants his intemperance
He wants her domestication
Together seeking a compromise
In search of salvation
The dove cannot tame him
Or dismiss his need for the hunt
She must accept who he is
Placing him at the forefront
The tiger cannot disengage her
Or deride her passion to nest
He must accept who she is
Keeping her abreast
The future lies uncertain
For the tiger and the dove
But they can conquer anything
If they just remember to love
I'm but a frail bird tasked to bring hope and spread peace.
How shall I fly high in the sky with such a brittle burden!
My heart pounds in dilemma like a ping pong ball as I release
my wings in the air to take a flight at the height of a dark sky.
As dark as it can be, above me, the cauldron-black sky
with scary scars of blazing explosions emitting blinding light.
Beneath me, the brazier ground groaning with an outcry,
shedding tears of sparks that vaporize into nebulous smokes.
In between is the whizzing of weapons, excreting smokes
and urinating radiation that smothers the air with brutality.
Warhead rockets, firing aircraft, missiles, bombs...stoke
the fire of war for the sake of supremacy by killing morality.
Shrills of ruination buried under the roars of madness spree
while the two-legged demons having a bloodbath with big guns.
Colors of bliss faded away and helpless time trying to flee
as achromic misery taints moments with grim stains in gallons.
Ember red blood is the only bold color that flows in streams
dyeing the soil and water with a stench of rotting death.
Once cultivated verdant fields are now burned into coal seams.
Marred by violence, houses crumble like ashes in hearth.
Such horrific images I see all around me as the hearth
of fierce war burns with glaring flames and crackling noises.
I fly, hover and fly with my singed wings as there is a dearth
of safe shelter; my exhausted body trembles with fear.
Would I be able to stop the war? I questioned myself with fear.
Quite a hard-hitting answer I received in the form of a bullet
that pierced my heart and I fell on the ground with tears.
From my smeared blood, poppies bloom around me as I die.
Date: 11/12/2017
One Mourning Dove
At my kitchen table
On a cold and sunny day,
A gray dove spied and stared at me,
He took my mind away.
So still he sat outside my window,
Puffed fat against the cold,
Once I think I heard him mourn,
So still we stayed, he bold.
He ate my bread this morning,
Pigged the birds’ sunflower seeds,
Could he be telling me “Thank You?”
Or “Give me more, more, pretty please?”
My attention would stay upon that bird,
My book unread, the day waiting,
A dove studying me, I studying him,
Our way of communicating.
The wings beat against the cage
in an urgent frenzy tormented never defeated
within this half twilight zone of slow crawling time held victim
The allure of consequences nevertheless feeding the flames
where conscious thought and lucid emotions die
slowly singed away remains at the bottom rung
The wisest transaction is the covenant never made and openly denied
decadence should never be answered once a pulls so strong
becomes injured with pride in alacrity's foretaste for knowledge
Where even the wind no longer breathes urgent
madness with passions trait as the grand tempest storms
steamily blows a cloud of smoke
A haunting being hunts darkness pushing boundaries
towards cold unadorned blue abandoned
holding the oceans spheres in restless silence
Restrained darkness meets light but never crosses over
the divide scratching at a spirit so forlorn
restraint comes naturally to the craggy and torn
Under the echoes of a lion's roar
A thousand tears can never mourn
the destruction and sad beauty that you have borne
Inside this isolation un-embellished
Under an austere atmosphere
holds the wings of time imprisoned factors
Destinies commander oh so damaged in this stunted wasteland of emotion's
conception becoming the unconsecrated norm in an un-heeding barrier
where realisations stammer unknowingly into the humiliating wit of despair
Which darkens the very soul blindfolded
The overture of the dove dances on as vigilant oracle of peace
the internal struggles of temperament challenges
Memorable moments within the spirit quest
fear and love wrapped up in a sorrowful wanting
yearning which hurts without choice
The pinnacles of reconciliation
and the fragile stirring of wings
wanting to fly is the verdict yet to come
a co written piece by Donna Loughman and Liam McDaid
The wings beat against the cage
in an urgent frenzy tormented never defeated
within this half twilight zone of slow crawling time held victim
The allure of consequences nevertheless feeding the flames
where conscious thought and lucid emotions die
slowly singed away remains at the bottom rung
The wisest transaction is the covenant never made and openly denied
decadence should never be answered once a pulls so strong
becomes injured with pride in alacrity's foretaste for knowledge
Where even the wind no longer breathes urgent
madness with passions trait as the grand tempest storms
steamily blows a cloud of smoke
A haunting being hunts darkness pushing boundaries
towards cold unadorned blue abandoned
holding the oceans spheres in restless silence
Restrained darkness meets light but never crosses over
the divide scratching at a spirit so forlorn
restraint comes naturally to the craggy and torn
Under the echoes of a lion's roar
A thousand tears can never mourn
the destruction and sad beauty that you have borne
Inside this isolation un-embellished
Under an austere atmosphere
holds the wings of time imprisoned factors
Destinies commander oh so damaged in this stunted wasteland of emotion's
conception becoming the unconsecrated norm in an un-heeding barrier
where realisations stammer unknowingly into the humiliating wit of despair
Which darkens the very soul blindfolded
The overture of the dove dances on as vigilant oracle of peace
the internal struggles of temperament challenges
Memorable moments within the spirit quest
fear and love wrapped up in a sorrowful wanting
yearning which hurts without choice
The pinnacles of reconciliation
and the fragile stirring of wings
wanting to fly is the verdict yet to come
a co written piece by Donna Loughman and Liam McDaid
If I could Harken to thee, a sonnet,
of loves most great desires,
the mere utterance, would warm thine ears
as the soft crackles of lusts fires
The ambiance, of shadows dance
across the Scottish tapestry,
Muses, light footed, pirouetting
my symphony, my love for thee
Fairest is thy silken mane
of the finest Irish Auburn,
brilliant as a cool autumn day
as the leaves of the maple turn
The tower bells, they toll for thee
as pale moon, illuminates the night
hark, the far cry, my dearest dove
of the owlet, so yearning flight
The petals of the Royal Rose
silken soft, compared to thy blushing skin,
or the Emerald glow, of thine own eyes
alit, passion, kindled from within
Mine own heart, burns with ever fire
that, which only thee, can conquer,
Conquer thee not, my dearest dove
for our love, forever, must endure
Harken to me my dearest Dove
sweet sonnets, from silken lips,
for I know thou shall be to me
as close as my finger tips.
Little dove, there you are, perched in the snow,
we need not to ask,
for, how well, we know
How your presence speaks gently
of faith in the spring
when you come out of hiding
and we hear your voice sing…
Rise up, don't be timid
for winter will pass
The flowers will spring up
in soft, meadow grass
As the spring comes alive
And the grapevines will blossom
please dove, sing your sweet song,
As the sun warms the skies
Coo little dove songs,
your voice will resound...
The gray clouds will fly away
and a new day will dawn
______________________
Inspired by Sara's Contest: "Song Of Solomon"
Blight the clouds lowly dispirited feigns,
Despite these regards there belies the shrouds,
In height uncovers the misplaced reclaims,
Ignite, blameless drives of a dove in clouds.
In measured distance or that of life's span,
Of treasured reflections as fawning dawns,
A feathered friend that needs a shepherd's hand,
Unfettered airiness descends chiffons.
An aloof crowned hall grows ever grandeur,
Shall allude facts of dire circumstances,
Can assume, beasts of burden, not dirt-poor,
Ample proof, a slanted roof, mischances.
Grounds, telltale's a flap, wingless warrior,
Sounds, fled coos, eyes unreachable love,
Downs of feathers white o'er once courier,
Pounds the ceaseless cease ... flights anew born dove.