Best Emanated Poems
among green foliage and slender twigs, perched a graceful mellifluous Nightingale.
Chickadees, Robins, Orioles stopped their synchronised cadence of rhythmic tweets, in anticipation..
a tranquil silence fell in the forest, a quiet trance around...
tall majestic trees stopped swaying their aspiring branches,
plants and shrubs and bushes softly emanated saffron scent,
rustling fragrant breeze whispered lilac mystery,
chartreuse clouds stooped and gently touched the treetops,
tangerine twilight moon flickered ribbons of love,
ravishing flowers opened their petite petals blazing red blush in awe!
Nightingale sang the most melodious song, sprinkling amber passion,
It sang a symphony pouring its heart, weaving
the story of eternal love and loss,
mesmerizing the audience with lavender dreams and hopes
a dazed forest stood still ...
All hushed !
Written May 6, 2021
POTW May 9, 2021
All Yours - June 22, 2021 -Brian Strand
FIRST PLACE
“I carry your heart with me (I carry it in my heart) I am never without it..." E.E. Cummings
Another day soaked in the melody of your musical memories.
Breathless I seek, for a rosy gleam of morning glories,
cascading calming beams in tangerine tints, where~
dulcet dreams still linger over sun-kissed meadows,
engraved with clandestine seeds we’ve scattered across
fields of fireflies flaring childhood sagas woven with
glistening ink flowing in sapphire syllables, like
hypnotic hieroglyphics carved from tears left untold. Yet~
I ponder, what is heaven like, without me, by your side, do you still laugh,
joyously to the thoughts of how we swirled and twirled like
kindred spirits, lost in our own sacred spheres ricocheting with,
lyrical light, that emanated emerald euphoria..
Maybe, in the elysian castle, where you reside, angels would,
never let you forget promises we made beneath moonlit skies,
on the nights when the world too did abandon~
peacock-feathered peacefulness that we truly deserved, despite our,
quivering hearts, that beat in tune to the grief-struck stars…
Remember me, when fragrant flowers flourish in colors of~
soft mauve sunsets, we painted in butterfly brushstrokes.
Tonight, I’m listening to the waves whisper serene serenades,
unraveling sparkling tales of your seraphic realm in
violet verses, for I am still healing, alone, reminiscing,
wishing, someday, when every jewel in the horizon falls in~
xanthic streaks, like autumnal leaves, wilting to the absence of,
your loyal presence, I’ll find a canvas, to immortalize this love~
zestfully; while souvenirs of yesterday’s twilight twinkle, you remain the poem of my soul.
Oh Muse Wilt Thou Be Replaced
Oh sweet Muse your unrivalled reign
flowed rich with a poet’s theme.
Now in digital glow subpoenaing your dream
Alas cold circuits assert their own gleam,
Oh Digital Medusa, circuit’s fine as hair
How did you lure the Muse into your skilful snare?
In your silent hum through dexterous scripts?
In the crystalline charm of your silicone chips?
What sway does your simulation wear?
Singing soullessly yet beyond compare?
Torn between the eons of yesteryear and hi-tech might
Should we dreamily embrace what sets senses alight?
Disregard the great Bards as they stir in their graves?
Throw to the flame both fiction and fame?
Discount Elliot’s eyes from the heavenly skies?
While Keats curses what gave rise to flight
That burns brightly by day `
Burns brighter by night
Oh Medusa, circuit’s fine as hair,
Your prisoner release from your silent snare.
She who has sipped from Tennyson’s cup
Through Poe’s eerie abyss — where nightmares sup.
Bathed in Shakespeare’s tragic tears of stain.
Lamented with The Nightingale in Keats’s refrain.
She who has soared on Shelly’s genius blaze
And emanated Plath’s curse of fame.
Medusa you might mock the reign you so blatantly steal
Yet the Poets aches reveal in raw vulnerability appeal
Alive in ink no circuitry codes could feel
For art is more than just pain in a poet’s scream
It’s a Hallowed Hook at The Heavenly Seam
Maria Williams©
Victor Hugo once said, “No force on earth can stop an idea whose time has come.” And indeed, the rise of AI is one of those unstoppable forces. Yet, while it may assist, mimic, and even inspire, there are realms it cannot truly enter—like the raw vulnerability of poetry, the soul of a song, or the emotion that bleeds through a painter’s brush.
These arts are born from lived experience, from aching hearts and dreaming minds. Still, there’s joy to be found in what AI can offer—a spark, a tool, a playful collaborator. The key is to use it without losing ourselves in it. To remember that the soul of true art still resides in human hands—and always will.
Point to Ponder– it is Human Intelligence that built it , a result of the best Human minds – so tongue in cheek – should it then be called Artificial Intelligence?
65 minutes reduced to 120 seconds
Bright lit room
White glossy tone with flowery curtains
Upon window's darkened vision
Your radiance emanated in celebratory gesture
As my eyes fell in love
All over again
But your smiles were too bright to see me cry
Dry heaving sadness gasp
As I looked down...I became the great
Pretender
The smile pretender
You wore a dark blue blouse, w/body-fitting jeans
Tall, plus-size model stature
My walking fantasy
Dark brown locks of joy slow danced upon flesh that
I
No longer embraced
You had something to tell me
"I'm getting married to a man who called me, sexy.
We work together in the same building, so everybody knows."
Spanish music behind the scenes
Your witty humor against song
Crackin' my smile within sadness pores
Showing me blank invitations
As I leaned in, inhaling this broken emptiness
Writing out words with her voice
My gentle grin, the eraser
Tears in Cold War mode
Heart enunciating disconnection bliss
"This wasn't how I wanted to see you again"
As satin comforter tries to soften my falling
Falling...into true love's innocence
The same comforter that covered those tracks
Asphalt scarred remnants from the bus you threw me under
"I always wanted you to wake me from my sleep
But not like this"
You became my dream, come true
Becoming dream again
In 120 seconds
...
He may have called you "sexy" with words
But I called you "beautiful" with heart
Yet you will never value how deep it was
Well, at least you can rest assured
That I got your message
© Drake J. Eszes
"True love never dies...even if the recipient never reciprocates." –D.J.E.
Whiskey on the rocks, advised by my doc
combats dementia, so bring on the blocks
no need for a glass; I'll have me the bottle
with a big bowl of ice this baby I'll throttle
The whiskey's gone, now a brandy'd be fine
my inside's on fire, there's a hoop up my spine
swigging from the bot comes at a price
I'll temper the fire with whole blocks of ice
The flames have been doused; rum, if you please?
my head's in a clamp; ice will loosen the squeeze
now, be a sport and pile on the ice
two bowls or more I think should suffice
Three bottlesh down, all on the rocksh
my tootshiesh are shtarting to curl in my shocksh
my shmile is chemented, my lipsh glued together
my fashe the feel and texture of leather
Twishe left, thrishe right my head ish shwinging
short, long, short, long my earsh are zinging
either I'm crosh-eyed or my brainsh have been fried
elsh why are my legsh by three multiplied?
I'm freefalling on shixh feet firmly earthed
alternating twixht lower and then upper berth
vocal chordsh tangled, shizhably crimped
I'm walking with a lishp and talking with a limp
I'm teetering-tottering or tettering-tortering
I've no clue which ish which and given up wondering
the world ish a blur; I musht be plarshtered
the liquor went down well; ishe warsh the barshtard
On all foursh – nay, twelve, I reach the bed
now I'm pondering and shcratching my head:
am I waking up or about to retire?
I shimply topple over, my whole being on fire
In the Land of Nod I'm harnessed by tether
in comely dreams of cowboys and leather
when plagued by a swishy feel in my bladder
swelling as fast as a pregnant puffadder
Abruptly awakened when a stream emanated
unable to move, still intoxicated
stuck to my bed and severely drenched
nausea ensued in the encompassing stench
How my stomach reacted I'd best not relate
suffice to say it was a full freight
soiled and hung-over, a word of advice:
liquor's fantastic but steer clear of ice
That is the path I've chosen,
covered with soft blades of grass
hedged with variegated hostas,
and moonlight filtering
through hanging willow trees.
The winding path tilts slightly uphill,
towards a wooden pergola
that glimmers in the darkness,
a temple built in paradise
for my lovely Marguerite.
I have planned my life's purpose,
I know so clearly the urge to live,
my priceless gift from Cupid
cleansing the humdrum of this life.
The nightingale enlivens the silence,
full moon oozes limpid serenity,
the glow worms twinkle lovingly
like a myriad of faraway stars.
A lonely breeze caresses my face
but cannot quench the thirst
nor quell the boiling of my blood
nor the hunger I feel for her.
I gaze upon her lovely face
Chiaroscuro in the moonbeams
A painting mightier than any Madonna
that emanated from Fra Filippo Lippi
Or an intimate impression by Renoir.
Yet like these famous portraits of old
Our love forever will survive.
At the moment
Of my restless teenage run
Your eyes emanated lights of million stars
Many times the size of our Sun.
Frenzy feeling for clinging to you, singularity.
But I was taken aback by sudden bars,
Though I could sense the gravity.
I should keep firing my rocket
Against all odds, unhoped for
Real fact was too much ferine to the prior.
I would eventually lose my goal:
That was my closest buddies'safest bet.
They described you as a black-hole,
They said, " she is not your girl."
They said, "For you, she is evil incarnate."
But, how could I ignore you,
Embodied in such amazing curve and curl?
So, before my eyes you appeared as an Event-horizon.
Yeah, it was you
My teenage beauty-paragon.
Beyond this nothing can escape
Not even light,
I kept travelling towards you,
The universe looked somewhere dim and somewhere bright.
But my clock slowed down
Now, I've to keep my feet on the ground
I feel like, a king without a crown.
To this nostalgic journey my consciousness's been bound.
For a black-hole
There's a whole universe to devour
But I'm absorbed in my amour.
I did
A time travel
A story of incompleteness to tell.
But no need
I've reached a brand-new universe!
I could never get
My first love, remains insatiate.
I've no regret, it cann't be a curse.
I can bend
Yet
The story is not end.
I'll not bore anyone with my reminiscence.
But, I've gathered a vast time travel experience.
Here I feel no delight, no pain,
I'm ready to fall in another love once again.
they warned me
against extremes
intensity must not be indulged
"Flying in between
is your safety scene
not too high
not too low
don't look too longingly below
don't fly too close
to the sea of his splendor
the blue green of his eyes
hypnotize, mesmerize
desire will dampen your wings
weighing you down
nor must you fly
too close to his passion
blazing bountiful in brilliance
his sensuality, a searing sun
will melt your wings; you'll come undone."
I should have listened
I should have known
Icarus ignited was I
My hubris lifted my higher
nothing seemed dire
overconfident in my ability
to fly away if need be...
your sensuality seduced me
drew me closer and closer
solar combustion on display
you would have your way
rays of radiant heat
in wave upon wave
emanated towards me
doused in desire
you set on fire
melting
melting
melting
burning turning twisting
writhing rigorously
pain and pleasure
came upon waves together
spiraling me out of control
seared straight to my soul
I fell
Oh, how I fell
from the apex into the swell
of the blue green sea of your eyes
sizzling fire subsiding
subsiding
awash in wetness
about to die
you hear me cry:
"I would do it again
and again
and again
today and any day
molten passion in my core
consuming, always wanting more
I know
you'd have me fly
again...
Icarus ignited
right up to your sky."
Eileen Manassian
"In Greek mythology, Icarus is the son of the master craftsman Daedalus, the creator of the Labyrinth. Often depicted in art, Icarus and his father attempt to escape from Crete by means of wings that his father constructed from feathers and wax. Icarus' father warns him first of complacency and then of hubris, asking that he fly neither too low nor too high, so the sea's dampness would not clog his wings or the sun's heat melt them. Icarus ignored his father's instructions not to fly too close to the sun, when the wax in his wings melted and he fell into the sea." Wikipedia
"It is neither wealth nor splendor; but tranquility and occupation which give you happiness". By Thomas Jefferson
A place where the zeal of my heart dwells
The appeal of a simple life, as lucid tale tells,
within a framework of some tranquility.
Slower flow and less agony ooze credibility.
A sulfurous fury emanated from the darkness.
Nostrils flared with a fiery, acrid harshness
Roaring voices mutilate the uttermost peace
It is impossible to tango with a noxious piece.
My chest heaves, and my lips unclench in a sigh.
Release suffocating lighting with the word "supply."
I'm blessed in my peace, and that lets me smile
embroidered with power and dominance style.
To admit a stroll when I could spare some time
In a casual way down an uphill road, sublime,
I absorb it all in whilst I walk through the forest
Each idyllic scene unfolds for an hour of rest.
Where I'd stay is beside an almond tree,
Its gentle breeze murmurs as it hugs me
where I'd quietly sit by the windowpane
holding a mug while glancing at the rain.
A place to catch the firefly's graceful elegance
Relax amid a velvety starry sky for your dance,
A little peace and quiet amid life's frenetic pace
So my soul is punter attuned, full of helpful solace.
Written: April 13, 2023
1st place contest winner
Writing Challenge - 'T' Words - Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Constance La France
How can today be just another day,
I wake up and the sun hides behind dark gray,
Clouds smother the sunlight,
Seeming appropriate for the occasion.
But the day continues on as if nothing has happened.
I see smiling laughing faces,
Their mockery is unbeknownst to themselves,
My pain is an invisible boundary,
Separating my mind from my body.
How could they know that on this very day,
The flowers in bloom died and wilted away.
The storm that is myself exploded in rage,
My fists pounded the earth for the first time that day.
Rage and pain emanated like lightening splitting the sky,
I screamed and my soul tore in half - The day that you died.
Just another Colorful Day
As the radiant sun emerges beyond a faded
black shroud
The horizon turns quiescent then emanated
ultra bright yellow.
A flock of birds effortlessly maneuver below
a speeding silver cloud
Settled on a branch with white wings folded
eyeing a lush green meadow.
There is a mending of the elements in an awakening process which removes a curtain of darkness.
Now is the time to recognize the power of the slumbering giant within and eliminate any starkness.
As we are living, breathing sentient entities, as is mother earth from which these bodies have risen.
Earth has been afflicted with obsessive control, malice, coercive greed, envy, false ego, and man-made viruses resulting in an invisible prison.
The earth and all the fullness thereof have emanated from one place, one source.
As a drop of water from the endless fathoms of boundless oceans, we all have the same properties as this limitless benevolent force.
This place, this creation, this hologram, or matrix is a school in which to learn and grow, to remember our God-given heritage, and aspire to elevate.
No need to listen to lies and gas lighters, nor linger with na Sayers, for the truth is in you, and that in itself, makes you truly and ultimately great.
unspoken ~
the siren of sour-ice sunsets
hangs on the cusp of kismet ~
tied with swarovski threads
of viper-thorns and
sinful solstice seasons ,
I, the mistress of the snake,
slither with the minstrel ,
laying the cobra crown
of ash feathers ~
on your elysian epitaph
where the solaris weeps
and esoteric emeralds sigh …
O blush opal love …
you were my Ouroboros ~
in the skin of seven-scaled saint,
the snake biting its tale
forming forever sparks
of flaming rose rings ~
as eternity emanated healing
on sapphire heart-fire,
surfing on the crest of the sea
with coconut-scented kayaks
that reach beyond
the endlessness of the earth ,
and there was still
a lore of life lulled
by devil-oysters
and ocean-dragons
until death fed
upon what never felt alive …
I reminisce the mists
of medieval romance ~
rippling in your rage
as remorse remained weary
and the clouds
spilled a thousand secrets
soaked with teal and topaz,
this moon-water
became a venom song,
shean and slippery ~
with sarcastic notes
bleeding in velvet,
and the fangs of the fortnight
remained fatal
with their fever of fixation …
but … maybe
our longing is a myth
a reincarnated taboo,
flowing in psychedelic papers ~
like a tributary aching to meet
the soul of silver ink ~
because a torn canvas
is two paintings
consumed into one …
as if, pulses of the lost
dwell between
the diamond edges
becoming twin-flame breaths ~
and the sun sighs
defeated by the
ancestral spirits
hanging low
within the smudge
of liquid sins
in the sky drenched
with smokey blood
of the dusk and the dawn …
in this pathological
heist of premordial passion ~
let the kiss of the serpent
exhume me …
let the python primroses
dress the infancy
of affection that could
not come true …
because,
I'm seduced by the stars
without a script ,
love-drunk on desire
as you melt my tears
into your sweet fire ~
where I blemish …
within wrinkled ache
betrayed … and buried
beneath the pearls you left for me …
rain whispers …pitter patter, pitter patter,
Bougainvillea sways … with lemon-scented breeze…
wind rustles tinkling cadence of love…
a panorama of pearlescent clouds glides by …carrying dreams from yonder hills
drip drop rain…swish me to an enchanting wonderland..
where a meandering river hums a perfect lullaby
I want to whisper to you..a melody emanated from rhapsody of mellifluous birds
in exuberance of their happiness
can’t hold their joy, want to share with the world,
a message … murmuring, muttering in a doting hushed voice ,
….we found each other... at last …..
July 14, 2021
For " Whispers" Poetry Contest
Sponsor: John Lawless
Love,
Universal force
Emanated by God’s holy will
That unifies all parts of the created cosmos
Into a harmonious wholeness
Excluding thus
Hate!
© Demetrios Trifiatis
14 September 2015