Best Echoes Poems
It's always those who reside in our hearts,
whose words, like lightning,
electrocute our soul,
and in each pain there is a lesson.
Her life was like a room without a view,
those 'rainy day' eyes,
could have formed a deep river,
but no ship sailed upon it,
to carry me to her
and I would have kissed away every tear.
Misplaced, I could feel her yearning,
for a home, she had never known,
confused and lost, but her silence,
left her trapped in burdensome meadows,
and I wonder if I could have shown her the way.
From the silent echoes of her tongue,
I could feel the malady of her spirit,
feel the lacerations piercing her heart.
If only my words could have soothed her,
but even they could not save her.
As the lights dimmed,
silent stars became the nature of my poetry,
I asked the moon why?
but clouds covered his expression.
Now my mind is a time machine
of her memories, her voice still haunts,
as I ponder if the thunder will persist,
because I'm too afraid to close my eyes.
Simple Musing
Silent One
4 October 2018
I once had your love which sailed on the shores of sorrows,
Broken hearts did shove the tears thru echoes of morrows…
For it is only time, that I have to find you on Cupids arrows,
It would be a crime if our love escaped the nefarious narrows;
Guardians of time, give me entrance so I may find my love again,
For I shall climb the portals of passion to stop the ravaged rain…
My love is lost amidst chambers of time and obtuse Oblivions,
In a frigid frost I circle and navigate thru loves morbid meridians;
Where calamitous clocks hold back the hemispheres of devotion,
And providence blocks the wheels of love and eternal emotion…
Father time of infinity bring me back to the day that we first met,
Restore our affinity of ambient amour before the Time Lords forget.
June.09.2020
Time Poetry
Sponsored by
Chantelle Anne Cooke
Placed 1'st...Thank You
Travel with me and enter
into the flower carpeted mountain meadows
of my youth;
Lose yourself in the wild beauty which resides within
God's tinted skies of yellow and vermouth.
Vested memories held captive by eidetic moments,
"Oh blessed beating heart, "
enter the flowered thoughts of a poet's nest, delve into the
sanctuary of God's Grace,
for it is here that you belong.
Seen through the eyes, felt with the heart
ensconced with a soul your free to roam,
inside roads less traveled, where timeless voices
are heard, through the echoes of all time.
You belong to the One who has given you,
both shape and creed.
ECHOES IN THE STONE
No one can turn back the hands of time
Reliving the war, TEXAS her independence
The tombs so deep, where real hero's fought and fell
A place so precious, sacred in every hold
A timeless journey, with no stop to heal
To find your eyes upon this treasure's glaze
Hearing stories not found in fairy-tale books
Finding GRACE in this AMAZING place
The legendary ALAMO, over freedom, a ghost town
Walking by the thousands, beyond this land
Outnumbered
Echoes in the stones
A painful event, UN erased
Defenders of the ALAMO gathered to unite
With their life's they put up an honorable fight
Heroes who embraced a defeat in March 1836
A battle deeply wounded overnight
Bravery in their hearts
No time to be scared.
Where the wind now blows,
Echoes in our souls.
With one touch, embrace the south wall
Hearing whispers, sad echoes-I call
Chills traveled down my spine
Standing among all heroes who are still buried,
In their home at the ALAMO
Echo's in the stone
Proud of the ALAMO.
Echoes in the stone
Where a hero still stands tall
Heroes even beyond their last breath,
Death being their only bail
Heroically fighting with their own will and liberty
In hopes, that justice would prevail
The ALAMO rebuilt, standing strong
Full of life, in the center of San Antone'
The voices, the scream,
Piercing the stone
Fighting till their death
"Remember the Alamo!"
The echoes in the stone, a hero's home
Locked inside each stone of eyes
Heroes who died,
Cried their last words
"VIVA THE ALAMO!"
SKAT
listen,
the whispers
of leaves
turn color
announce
autumn is here.
touch,
the echoes
of the rain
that waters
and blossoms spring.
taste,
uncut
the snow shapes
the crisp cold
ices the wintertide.
see,
the sand sculptures
that paint
that rekindle
a childhood summer past.
smell,
the seasonal airs
stimulates the senses
and the memories they carry.
in the glee,
in the hopes and dreams,
in the human spirit,
lives the miracle of life.
the magnificent
voices in every pitch
deep and resounding,
the melody
of echoes and whispers – uncut.
Maurice Yvonne
Any Old Poem Will Do - Contest
For Skat A
Entered: August 29 2014
The saddest sound in all the world,
The bagpipes weep as raindrop pearls
Land to take on grass-green hue:
Tears to mourn the loss of you.
Your boys line up with shaking lips
And breaking hearts to numbly grip
Your modest coffin; spirits brave,
They trek toward your dewy grave.
We follow you through wind and rain.
The pipes still croon their sad refrain.
We bury you with roses white,
A tragic yet tremendous rite.
And as you sleep beneath the ground,
The echoes of your life resound.
A wash of gold adorns the westward sky
as waning light departs a summer’s eve;
in readiness to roost, crows cease to fly
and seek their resting place among the leaves.
Past toasted rooftops, twilight bids the sun
must softly slip away to realms afar,
with liquid grace, sun-kisses fall undone
and drench the dusk in honey-toned memoir.
Time lengthened shadows whisper to the moon,
enticing her to wear her slender smile.
With reticence, she answers to their tune,
enriching night’s black canvass for a while…
still wearing notes of summer-sweet bouquet,
recalled from painted echoes of the day.
at times the emptiness weighs
heavy in my pool of wistful solitude
sometimes it’s more than i can bear
at times I listen to the silence
and how its nothingness echoes in my head
sometimes it’s more than i think i can bear
at times i crave the longing of togetherness
the gentleness of lips upon my own
sometimes it’s all much more than i can bear
AP: Honorable Mention 2022
Submitted on May 4, 2022 for contest A BRIAN STRAND PREMIERE sponsored by BRIAN STRAND - RANKED 9TH
Muted Echoes
The echoes of piano notes
play softly in my mournful mind
as melody so gently floats
like ghosts of songs she left behind.
My memories are brought to bear,
the echoes of piano notes
forever floating in the air,
as lumps well up in saddened throats.
This winter day we don our coats
to lay her body down to rest;
the echoes of piano notes
show sadness in our hearts expressed.
The instrument sits dormant now;
its presence quietly emotes
her playing, as our thoughts allow
the echoes of piano notes.
There beneath the dome of ashen sky
Nary a hint tonight of her favorite stars
And motion above of cumulus clouds
Neither does thunder, nor pleads aloud.
Restless, voiceless she poignantly recalls
Spark that evoked from doting heart
As under the olive tree he knelt down,
Before his vows got muffled by bombs.
There she heard how nothingness sounds:
As houses burned, buildings collapsed,
Bodies were scattered for miles long
In mangled, shattered voices of chaos
When vacant disgust muzzled the town--
Neither did anywhere church bells ring
Nor did the minarets make prayer calls;
Gone were the cries from mother's arms
And footsteps of hunger buzzing in shops
And heartbeats of lovers strolling for joy
And laughs of the youths playing with ball.
And there she still lingers in echoes of war--
Why didn't her verses compose a ballad?
Why didn't her love strum strings of guitar?
And why oh why, so soon did her music stop?
August 31, 2019
Placed 1st: Silence poetry contest by Silent One
Placed 3rd: Strand choice 8 contest by Brian Strand
I'm an emerald
echo of earth's
caterpillar, a
camouflaging
hiatus of muse
midst karmic rainstorms.
Enslaved to jealous
stars flaming within
infernal wings,
I yearn to spellbind
sacred heaven's throne,
chasing subconscious
liberty in crowned
soul of marine eyes.
Tracing saffron
fingertips in
silent smokes of
Venus, willingly,
I've scarred tuscan shine
of Aphrodite
with pearl's thermal ache.
So now, when new year's
first sunflower sings ~
breathing ambrosia
in gemstones of
bejeweled healing,
a poet shall be
reborn as a
ruby-amethyst,
snowtail butterfly.
With Joy, Your Singing Voice Echoes Our Love
Hold true this obsession of mine
that my world forever be free
with great joy and brightest sunshine
upon green meadows and Oak tree;
that my right hand be clasped with thine
nights spent in sensual display,
taste of luscious grapes on the vine
sent by your soft kisses each day.
Hold true this obsession of mine
winning your heart my faithful goal
pray our years all joyous and fine
fulfilling love-dreams in the whole;
with dance, calmest of interludes,
beauty complimenting thy grace,
we fly to lofty altitudes
our deep love, nothing can erase.
Hold true this obsession of mine
that treasures I lay at your feet
I forever let your light shine
each dawn waking to your smile greet;
with rapture born of life well spent
your singing voice echoes our love
your beauty there on satin sheets
and our happiness born thereof.
Robert J. Lindley
Rhyme, ( When Truest Love Holds Sway)
If a goodbye echoes when you say hello
And tears concealed admonish your smile
As life abandons you without hinting why,
Did you miss the sound of her silent cries?
If you need to ask how long does love last
You haven't heard the moan of her heart
Where quietly she hides grief of her wants
And quelling her passion, embraces doubts.
Her sadden vibes don't well-up your eyes
And the sound of her hurt just passes you by
As contemptuous voice ridicules her plight,
What it wouldn't say, you certainly have.
March 22, 2019
HM: Strand select 5 contest by Brian Strand
They never saw me—not really.
Only the outline I traced in the halls,
A whisper of denim and shy glances,
A ghost who smiled too politely.
They passed notes like grenades,
Laughed too loudly
When the silence was breaking me.
I wore their words like a second skin—
Tight, blistering,
But invisible to them.
You asked if I was okay once—
But your eyes flicked away
Before the truth had a chance to crawl out.
Still,
That was kind,
Compared to the others
Who carved their stories into my name
Without ever asking for mine.
I screamed,
But only inside,
Where echoes get lost
In the ribcage's corners.
And when I disappeared,
They asked,
“Why didn’t she say something?”
As if silence isn’t something we’re taught
By the ones who pretend
They’re listening.
~
“I'd never known her to cry”
Her smile that warms
every heart that it touches
Springtime and daisies,
blue morning skies
“but this time is different for sure”
As rivers stop flowing
neath cloud altered whispers
set off in regrets
of sorrow filled cries
“she's shaking with tears in her eyes”
Knees meeting soil
her face now she’s hiding
shudders in echoes
of pain she does know
“as she picks up what’s left of the night”
In moon beam intentions
now star lit and lonely
I hold her in comfort
so my love does show