Best Emanating Poems
This one is for the broken,
hiding behind invisible bruising.
For the forgotten and the ones
who have forgotten us,
like the misunderstood misfits.
Who howl at the moon,
look beyond the stars,
for some form of understanding.
For the one you labeled a weirdo.
Who's life is a cocktail of corruption,
struggling with ignorant co-existence.
For the ones who have lost their voice,
unable to speak unspoken truths,
like the child of stolen innocence.
For the abused, the violated, the humiliated.
Those who chose to run and are still running.
Hope you find a safe haven to call home.
Like the ones who no longer dream,
due to demonic intrusions.
This one is for those who
continue to love ferociously.
Breathing genuinely in a world of
hypocrisy and artificial actions.
Who's hearts are an archive of
old songs, lost in the concept of time.
Their piano keys of darkness and light,
have eroded with each tremor,
but still refuse to sell their emotions.
Preferring an overdose of life
lost in lullabies of rain -
battling against ugliness of adversity.
Their hope eradicates thunder,
emanating clear blue skies -
souls illuminating like a ring of fire.
We all have a purpose, a personal potential,
find it, feel it, be it.
There will always be a mountain,
with wandering wayward winds -
but there are several ways to conquer it -
just believe in the beauty of your being.
We are warriors.
Simple Musing
Silent One
30 November 2020
I am more than your definitions
more than affixed labels
placed on my anatomy
more than your misconceptions
or even valid perceptions
I am more
I am more than what's written of me
More than what the eye can see
more than what the heart can feel
more than what you think is real
I am more
Yes, more...
I am even more
that the boundaries I set for myself
more than the limitations I conceive
more than what even I believe
to be me
I am more
emanating from my core
are little particles of truth
dressed in the light of poetry
a mystery revealed
a little of the universe
~~outer and inner~~
set free
your reality reshaped
from a different world view
and cultural dimension
religious hues
shining through
all part of who I am
now part of you
but then again
it's true
I am more than these...
I am a valid element of history
soul written in rhyme
truth confined to a time
lines someone will read
and be changed
for an instant
perhaps eternity
thus, I am
I was
and I will be
part of the continuum
of life
of eternity
I am more
infinitely more
than what you see
I am what's meant to be...
Eileen Manassian
Close your eyes
inhale roses-
love-glazed steam
of insatiable thirst;
place your thoughts
upon my heart,
feel my
voice s w i r l i n g
in sync with
periwinkle promises
whilst devouring
unfurled petals
facing ebony skies,
tenderly sketching
silhouettes with
vanilla drops;
for you and I,
we are interwoven
souls through
cosmic t r a n c e…
forevermore.
Tonight when dusk
transcends the
darkest twilight,
I’ll allow these
thoughts to
d r i f t into a magical
meadow where
butterflies b o u n c e
from wavy blades,
reflecting our love
in unspoken shades.
I’ll wait for you,
to relearn what
it means to be
the flesh and
bone of summer…
as this longing
c a s c a d e s
in
sherbet hued
cherry blossoms.
And if
the moon
refuses
to rise,
I’ll sketch your
pearlescent smile
across g r e y i n g
spheres, like the
first
glimpse
of
morning crescent;
unveiling verses-
s p i r a l i n g as mystical
milky-ways within…
emanating candy
coated cologne..
So find me
between
flickering afterglows,
l i s t e n to the
whispering willows,
seek shelter beneath
autumnal rainbows,
amidst m o v i n g seasons,
for two hearts
that beat the same,
would always find
their rhythm amidst
many seas
ruffling with ripples
of aching dreams,
between them~
although virtual
hugs are all we have
to keep our
f r e e z i n g
souls of summer
warm and in sync.
Dream
My mirrored reflection silently speaks
You honor me with your vulnerability
Your scars of life
Your unhealed wounds of betrayal
Dream journals tattoo your body
Your open arms of desire call to me
With eyes closed I sense
Whispers of your silky wings
Fluttering against smeared panes of glass
Separating us in the night
Your voiceless screams
Crushed pink musical notes hover close by
Magical music envelopes me
Dancing sounds emanating from
The depths of your kaleidoscope soul
A rebirth of desire
You are my child
My eyes call to you
Fragile strands of distance
Separate us
My child
I long to touch you
To hug you
To comfort you
Our palms meet
Mirroring one another
Rising them above our heads
We create a circle of life together
Only the transparent looking glass
Keeps me from feeling
The warmth of your touch
I read stories to you
You cannot hear me
I turn the book around
Pressing it to the glass
Not knowing if you
Can interpret the words
Hello my dear child
I am here to make you smile
I will dance for you
I will pantomime
I will become a dynamic octopus
Changing color and form
Before your eyes
I reach through the glass
As it liquifies and melts
Coating my fingertips
Hands and arms
In a warm embrace
I find you in the blur
Lifetimes pass
Time Inhales
Grasping blindly
I cup your shoulders
Bringing you to me
Dissolving all barriers
I press you against
My beating heart
Sweat glides down my cheekbone
Caressing your forehead
Leaving salty trails
Child of mine
No greater honor
Has been bestowed on me
Allow me to help you heal
As you have healed me
Cherished
Line drawings
Smiling suns
Red Dogs
Green Trains
Spider webs of glitter
Paper mache bowls
Painted in Aztec colors
Fill my dresser drawer
Remembering sugar cookie stars
Coated in Thick frosting
Sprinkles
Burnt edges
Many skinned knees
Broken spirits
Bactine and Bandaids
Notes by my bed
“I love you Mama”
These moments in time
Stored in the locket of
My heart
Forever
I kiss you now
Quietude endows hushed mystical space
Admonishing words have no role to play—
Look how in solitude its posture bends
Bowing in deference to calming intellect.
Listen to the utterance of wailing heart
Where grieved voices subtly resonate
In stygian echoes of aches and pain
As bawl of mortal life kneels down to pray.
Touch of gifted hands magically illuminates
Enlightenment of soul’s secret message
Setting aside obtuse incredulous images,
Silencing the whims of infuriating regrets.
Glowing in epiphany of truths ornate
Emanating from the heart’s regal reign,
Voice of divinity in conquest reverberates
Winning decisively dissonant arguments.
Gaining wisdom of supreme knowledge,
Free from shackles of ordinary, mundane;
Revelations disarm the earthly laments
Basking in discovery of heavenly solace.
March 2, 2020
Poem of the week on March 8, 2020
Placed 1st: Picture prompt poetry contest
Sponsor: Brenda Chiri
Placed 2nd: Your Best Free Verse 2020 Poetry Contest
By John Hamilton
Quote: A man can fail many times, but he isn’t a failure until he begins to blame somebody else.
John Burroughs
________________________________________
Inspired by life’s goals, winners are intuitively aware,
A loss is but a steppingstone, not a reason to despair;
Again and again, with certitude they play the game,
For triumph, they envision, is written in every name.
They never seek to blame others, for own mistakes,
Instead, they course-correct, averting heart-breaks,
Re-learning, deep in introspection, as they re-assess;
Ameliorating ways of failures, reaching for success.
When life is perturbed in adversities, they fear not,
Cognizant~ anything worthwhile must be hard-fought;
Summoning conquering ways, every failure taught,
To attain ultimate milestone, reveries of victory sought.
They accept, they advance, when things go wrong,
Strumming theme winsome, emanating from life’s song,
Echoing a pledge revered, treasured for quite long;
Avowing~ to them, the reigns of future shall belong.
Dreams of passion, dreams coveted, refuse to die,
For resolutely their objectives, driven believers vie;
Until triumphantly, bells-elated, of success chime,
Trumping sad sighs of failures, defeated over time.
An echo of lovesome passion, an inspiration of unborn theme,
A muse hypnotic, adept at composing aspirations of my dream,
Omnipresent voice of being, poetry is my love, eternal as time,
Shaping expressions of mind, embellishing moments sublime.
Strumming music enamored, resounding from tenor of heart,
Humming chorus of life, emanating tunes lauding poetic art;
Melodies I compose, musings inimitable, to her they belong,
Lyrics woven in waltzing words; she’s been a refrain of my song.
She is sunshine glinting my day, a shiny star glistening my night,
My companion on journeys opulent, she’s been my utmost delight;
Yet, the contours of her bold imagination, I cannot ever define,
Neither can I restrict her freedom, nor her notions can I confine.
Moody yet engaging, fondly she paints tapestries of my mind,
Luring me to paradise~ metaphors, simile, cogently designed,
Tiptoeing in my amorous view, enticing me with reveries anew,
Softly as sun’s crimson rays, twinkle gems from morning dew.
Poetry is my spring, she is my summer, she’s elixir for my soul,
She’s fuchsia beauty on rosy arc of dawn, doting sights extol;
Alluring, charming, she’s resplendence gold, of autumn’s show,
She’s pure, snow-covered meadows, a season of falling snow.
Due to growing Nimbus clouds of oppression
an area of low pressure has been building
Rest assured, it won't lead to bouts of depression
but rumblings of thunder have now been heard,
foreshadowing the bombs of fury soon to come.
Be advised: the ripping winds will not be deterred.
To counteract and neutralise any negative vibes
this Poetry Souper has been on a strict vegetarian diet
of lentils, cabbage soup, curry and beans; re-fried
They have been consumed in copious quantities.
Take shelter from wind gusts. There may be a riot!
Steps are being taken because many have died
from the expulsions of a toxic build up of gas.
It's predicted to be tornado level turbulence
emanating from winds blown out of my a s s
Anatomically referred to as expelled flatulence.
Blowouts should be considered as lethal blasts,
and not to be taken lightly, ignored, or scorned.
This is a public service alert of severe wind forecast.
The approaching storm is of gigantic proportions.
Gas masks are advised. You have been warned!
Warning Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Richard Lamoureux
Submitted to Weather Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Angela Tune
2/28/20
Haven’t you heard
Didn’t they caution
I make haters
Why they exist
Why they envy
Didn’t you smell
their burning flesh
Did they not warn you tread lightly
This place was a shelter
where they sought me
hoping for my warmth
I turned it to winter
encased fake words
froze vacant minds
Emanating ability
scorching paths
Ignorant ashes
melted in heat
Not warmth
was found
but fire
As the
sun
am
I
When tuscan tunes of twilight,
cascade as clementine confetti,
She searches for secret silhouettes,
swirling to the symphony
of sunflower serenades.
In the midst of faded fields,
marigold memories crawl back,
refraining yesterday’s
tangerine dreams.
Swans glide in
sullen grace,
illustrating a saffron
backdrop from
sweet sighs of
fauna’s concerto.
Harmony of melodies
is the idyllic essence
of dulcet beginnings.
A plethora of
prewritten words
soar as passionate notes,
harvested through
hypnotic crescendos,
emanating amber toned scales,
whilst she sways below
apricot streaked skylines,
adorned in champagne
hued consonants,
synchronizing dandelion
desires,
fluttering beyond
darkness that floats,
as lyrical lines vibrate,
and ascend to
euphonious heights,
where bronze keys of
her mellifluous heart,
evolve from a tapestry
of twinkling tenors.
Her muse mimics
scentless petals.
There’s no wrong interval,
when performing in a world,
where rays of
honeyed glow drift,
veiling the rhythm,
between bleeding
dusk and dawn.
Changing chords remain
oblivious,
to the pulsating pain,
as her perfectly
manicured fingers lift.
The hunter’s moon
too refuses to see,
how her heart no
longer is made of flowers,
but nostalgic ferns
and leafless forests,
that twist and turn—
wilting away to
songs of sorrow.
But there’s a maestro
with a pristine prologue.
He understands her mind
blisters when colors tumble.
How her fragility has
been sleeping on
weathered pansies.
He guides her to
softly press the
porcelain frame of
piano keys,
playing the prelude
to a classical sonata,
lost in the maple waves
of wind-blown whispers.
Her oak leaf twirls and
sows duets
of sanguine tomorrows,
pitching lines within
veins rhymed in vain.
Birds of paradise croon
to orchestrated
hope and love,
while a palette of sounds
piercingly rise to unravel
a synopsis for healing.
Regally it stands, the staunch guardian of her lonesome heart,
Reminiscing in revelries of yore, treasured memories impart,
Defying glum turbulence of now, hanging on to seasons past,
When springs-winsome banished, doldrums harsh-winters cast.
Disheartened, the gate harkens back~ O, so young its master died,
Lamenting of distressed times, when grief stilled her teary eyed;
Yet, with resolve, it squeaks its hinges, resounding a voice of pride,
Beckoning to benevolence of bliss, fate had so callously denied.
With kindred vibes it greets her, vying elation of cherished days,
Suppressing aches and rattles of its rusting, clamoring, phase;
Preferring realm of time, when he was the keeper of this place,
As dutifully now it opens wide, exuding mirth of youthful grace.
O, how fondly the gate recalls, dance of duo beneath full moon,
Humming melodies intimate, passions of doting souls croon,
Embracing celebration of life, as heartbeats enamored attune,
To rhythms emanating song of love, strumming infatuated tune.
Despite groans and whimpers, blaring aloud clattering of pain,
The gate vows to protect her, refusing ever to wither or wane,
Unwavering through thunders, rains, vicious strikes of feeble age,
Challenging its steeled bones, to gallantly defy seasons’ rage.
you are my air… and I,
the blazing breeze
before the sphinx silence,
stretching beyond
the thunder-struck touch
of perplexed thoughts
as soul whispers in warm waves
letting go of stained stars
~ trace me like
I’m a decaying dandelion trap ~
look into the fixated flames
within these sunset eyes,
O defenseless divinity
my lips quiver in quintessence
to devour the bottomless depth
of your designed devotion ~
the sanctified slivers
of the rising dawn ~
your aura of aromatic aesthetics
carved too captivatingly
to be conquered
as my curved catharsis,
a clandestine curation
no color could recreate ...
I feel the night tighten
within your pensive veins
passively pressed
and paralyzed
amidst the perfumed pulse
of my passionate k i s s
so allow the hallelujahs
of this hyacinth heart
erase erratic remnants of doubt
clouding the clarity
of our conversed confessions
we’ve held
like secret 3 a.m. scars
for I will lead
you and your dusk
to the magnetic light
where language of longing
does not taste
like lament
nor love is phrased
with rhymes of bleeding
thorns and thistles
but becomes a hallowed prophecy
of a kinetic kismet
knitted with bewitching bliss
a gravitational grey
emanating the
despair within
fleeting seconds
as I am risking ~ tripping
everything and anything
to be your eternal mirror
musing ... succumbing ... sinking
the paradise ....burning
for
your timeless pull...
*inspired by the art ; The kiss of the Sphinx, Franz Von Stuck
A fire blazes behind the veil
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
This veil I wear
is not made of cloth
for no fabric could withstand
the incendiary passion
I command
It's self-imposed
not forced
no man's hand
would dare cover me
yet here I am
swathed in these layers...
folds of security
you see
it's easier
much easier
just to be like the rest
not a subject of discussion
or the brunt of derision
with meanings misconstrued
by the crass and the rude...
thus,
anonymity allures
I finger the veil
its threads: religious doctrine
its dye: denial
its paisley patterns: protocol
culturally appropriate
I stand:
~chaste~
silence simmering
with actions inactive
I stand: quiet, demure, serene
but my thoughts burning, unseen
and behind the veil
I smolder
passion flares through my eyes
the only indication
that I'm alive
I pass you by
another woman
unseen
unknown
unacknowledged
I pass you by
you...frivolous in your freedom
you...unappreciative of accpetance
I pass you by
and yet, inwardly I smile
warmed by inner flames
emanating from my core
I know…so much more
There's potential...
potential this woman has in store
for this I know
when the time has come
when I'm ready
it will fall away
by my own hand
unobtrusively grand
and you will see the sight
the walking, breathing delight
of the unveiled woman
confident
sublime
a woman
calmly, gracefully, purposefully
passing you by....
Eileen Manassian
This is not meant to be offense to anyone from the Islamic faith. The veil has symbolic meaning.
Love’s Luculent Light
Beyond the portals of time exist immaculate immortals incarnates of light,
helped by the Angels to seed sempiternal love into our earthly existence.
In Perpetuum within the gardens of bliss where love is benevolently breathed,
upon its creation a vortex of golden light emanating from the veils of eternity.
~~~
Beyond all that is, love travels through light and finally rests upon my face,
as the pores absorb its ecstatic ever essence, my body resonates in ecstasy.
Beyond the realms of reality, my love spreads throughout the infinite voids,
until it gently falls and rests on your flavorous face... thus a new love is born.
Jennifer Lopez - Feel The Light (From The Original Motion Picture Soundtrack, Home)
June.28.2018
Eight lines of fate, when you wonder if it is too late
Sponsored by: Silent One
Though she holds his hands, he feels all alone
As moonlit desires sense his dissonant vibes
Emanating from pulses beating in discord
Plundering away ambiance to vacant thoughts
When a cogent conversation becomes a task.
Silence he placates discarding her prompts
Preferring the dark over company of stars
As a lone-bird sits forlorn on a leafless branch
Awaiting for daybreak to build a new nest.
Steadfastly she holds on to her view of galaxy
Undeterred by forces of invisible black holes
Comforting his woes till he rejects her call,
Deciding resolutely to abandon her place
When the lone-bird flees before daybreak.
November 5, 2018
Placed first in contest #520 by Brian Strand