Best Embedding Poems
A tepid breeze delicately descends,
embedding a sphere of embers engulfed in saffron flames,
but intrinsic illuminations cannot soothe somber sorrows.
Splashes of persimmon and periwinkle horizons,
turn indigo, before twilight disappears into ebony hues.
Nocturnal pondering drifts to magical memories.
In the middle of the night,
when butterflies dance to the moon's song.
A plethora of elegance surrounds,
as a million fireflies prepare a path of crystal fragility.
Fate has little sympathy for forgotten symphonies.
In the mysterious music of tonight,
pearl in the sky reflects in scarlet shades,
moonlight shimmers like blood on distant tides.
Strings of sorrow serenade in stentorious stings.
melancholic mind moves like a funeral march,
yearning for veiled daylight behind mute mists.
There is an ache in absence,
a despair in distance -
reflected through lamenting eyes.
If only we could smash this cocoon,
that prevents us from floating free -
but majestic chic wings remain in chains.
My lips are like velvet petals,
forming the grandest golden sunflower,
confined behind onyx structures of frailty,
vulnerably yearning to be healed,
by tender rosewater kisses.
Painful palpitations from a pomegranate heart,
bleed in bitter shades of black.
A hollowness only separated souls silently sense.
Hope can be hidden behind
a canopy of Cimmerian clouds.
To create a rainbow,
love requires sun rays and rain drops.
To weave an eternal pattern,
where beloveds ascend in peace and harmony -
forever.
Categories:
embedding, absence, analogy, love, romance,
Form:
Free verse
Continued from Part 1
“Upon your knees in golden naves, while peeking through the slots,
You horded thirty silver pieces, downed a whiskey shot,
Then crossed yourself and wrapped yourself in furs of ocelots,
And danced on cleated cloven hoofs in purple polka-dots,
Then drank His blood from chalice cups with pious afterthoughts.
“You’ve treated men like mongrels chained, like little flies to swat,
By doing what you wanted to, instead of what you aught;
You’ve wiped your nose with dollar bills and paid your serfs with snot,
But when you’ve paused to preen your pride, you’ve scrubbed a scarlet blot.
“In ashes of our victories: the diamonds that you sought,
The crock of gold, the Golden fleece of bogus Argonauts -
In mirrors of your lifelessness, the evils you begot.
“The haunted winds strew leaves of time across a shallow plot
Where now, beneath the frozen stones blanched bodies bathe in rot,
Disintegrate, return to dust to feed Forget-Me-Nots
Amidst the bane and pits of pain where broken bones lie caught.
“In fields above the catacombs and tombs of Camelot
The black and withered tree of Death arises from the spot
Where oft beneath a bleeding moon you hid your gold in pots
Embedding doubts neath barren bogs where roots of wormwood squat.
“While waiting at the river Styx, in twisted time untaught,
From branches of the gallows tree, in recollections wrought,
Your soul, a beggar’s blanket, hangs in crazy quilted knots,
With dangling pearls and diamond studs mid dripping crimson clots
And gaping wounds with bulging eyes like fouling apricots,
For wrapped in chains around your throat, the Reaper’s grim garrote.”
Yes, that’s the fate of all your kind, disclosed by Wise Men taught.
But that was, oh, so long ago, by now you have forgot…
End
Categories:
embedding, men, time, war,
Form:
Monorhyme
When a child if gifted with a book it transforms into a key to unlock the mind. The gate to the secret garden of imagination is pried from its forgiving hinges and the child is free to expand their imagination to galaxy proportions.
The simple pages of a book provide a passport for a passenger seat next to the likes of Captain Biggles in his Tibetan adventures to locate the forbidden city of Shangri Lah, or a magical flight to Neverland with Pan and the lost boys. Who knows how each “child’s mind’s eye will envisage the loathsome creature that is Mr Hyde or the demure Dr Jekyll?
It captures the heart of a parent to witness their young boy, lying on his bed, engrossed in the pages of Stevenson’s Kidnapped. His imaginings transform him into the character of David Balfour, fighting alongside the Jacobite rebel, Alan Stewart. Such a comforting vision is a young girl, lounging on the couch on a rain soaked winters afternoon, fanning through a copy of Anne of Green Gables, engrossed in the character of Anne Shirley, wishing to emulate her outgoing spirit and giving nature.
The abundant bread basket of literary expositions act as a conduit, unlocking a child’s ability to make judgements about morality, injustices and an understanding of consequences in decision making. All the while the simple act of quietly reading procures an incalculable and surreptitious response to education for a lifetime to come.
The nostalgic aroma of floral vanilla and almonds that emit from the pages of an old book invokes a sense of anticipation to the imaginary adventures about to be embarked upon, creating an atmosphere of ambivalence.
An implore to parents across the globe to leave the television set and so-called social media, bombarding a child’s mind like a tidal wave, leaving in its wake a desolate landscape of nothingness. Embrace the tactile feel of pages in hand, gently stroking the mind, embedding feelings of, wonder and imagination. Read to your children every day and encourage them to jamb their noses into literary masterpieces from the likes of Stevenson, Doyle, Dickens and many more worthy exponents that have stood the test of time.
Categories:
embedding, adventure, books, children,
Form:
Free verse
A woman’s love is soft
Rounded…smooth
Soft like her body
A blanket of gentleness
Her softness covers
The edges of a man’s soul
Making him feel warm
Whole
Nurtured
Fed
A soft pillow for his head
Her breasts
Soft
So so s o f t…
Her arms
Dreamy clouds of comfort
Around his shoulders
His angular frame
Covered
His roughness softened
Gentle, soothing
The love of a woman
Reducing him
To the child in the man
In need of love....
The knowledge that she’s there
An added softness to his rugged world
Of madness
A woman’s love
Is a soft embedding
Of his hard strength
Lost in the warm depths
Of her soft
Soft
Love
A woman’s love...
A man’s soft salvation
Eileen Manassian Ghali
Inspired by the poem by Richard D Steal (WOMAN)
Categories:
embedding, love, woman,
Form:
Free verse
The landscapes I paint have fence one or two
Some with pegs bent, some with bars broken,
Fence between pathway draped in autumn hue
And bare pasture embedding auburn garden.
You may ask me, why?
I go deep in my mind
See my emotions dry
In split space defined.
The landscapes I paint have expanse of blue sky
With patches of cloud hanging on hazy horizon
Wrapping the smoky hills, telling them how to fly,
Some drift shapeless in azure emptiness forlorn.
You may ask me, why?
I go deep in my mind
See my mooring fly
Life floating behind.
The landscapes I paint have tall trees in thick cluster
Standing in the foreground, some green some brown,
Their roots pierce the soil, crushed grass they devour
In dense shadow of foliage the flowering plants drown.
You may ask me, why?
I go deep in my mind
See my identity lie
In soul sinking blind.
The portraits I paint have always birthmark
On lower right cheek, some light some dark,
So on the still face beauty may silently lurk
Carry signature of creativity of artist’s work.
You may ask me, why?
I go deep in my mind
See my passion try
Make a mark of some kind.
December 7, 2017.
Categories:
embedding, art, passion,
Form:
Rhyme
I could never explain how I feel
On air, waves of sounds escaping what I could no longer hear
Aggravation lingers on the tongue
How it burns, perpetually, embedding anger on taste buds
I will remember the taste of defeat, eternally
Dull, so Dull, hums this high pitched
Innocence
If I can't tell my story in the voice that I want to
I’d rather be silent
forever
The pen flows so easily
Blackest inks stain my felt tip
Passion! How it twists my heart into complicated
Mazes, interlocking, crisscrossing
Things I’ve never thought of before
The blood of contemplation runs clear as diamonds caught in eclipses
Torrents of ecstasy,
Free falling
over
J
A
G
Ged rocks, waterfalls, creating Prisms
Bam, Bam, Bam
Relives pressures on joints that hold
Industrial hearts together, oil may no longer ease this
New age technological emotion on addictive highs
I never even knew of until I thought about it
Two Double Oh Seven for sure
I consider myself to be something
I’m not really sure of
But I do love to imply mystery in reflections that others see
Honestly, complexity isn’t my best asset, only others believe this is what I am
As long as I believe in what I stand for
It is fine if my tongue flails but my pen soars
Categories:
embedding, art, introspection, on writing
Form:
Free verse
Come, come softly to me…
Come, let me glimpse at your silhouette in the dark,
an ephemeral apparition in white satin and lace.
Come, let me hear your soft and nervous laughter
bouncing and echoing off the bedroom wall.
Come, let me drown in the forest of your dark hair,
inhaling the sweet fragrance of woods and pines.
Come, let me plunge into the pools of your eyes,
fathoming the depth of the promise they hold.
Come, let me feel your tender lips opening shyly,
whispering secrets that only lovers understand.
Come, let me touch the softness of your skin,
tracing the contour of every peak and valley.
Come, let me calm the quake rocking your body
in quiet expectation of what soon will be.
Come, let me whisper words of love in your ear
like phantom in the night, beguiling, tempting.
Come, let me sate my thirst from thy dainty breasts,
listening to the tale that each heartbeat dares to tell.
Come, let me unlock the mystery that spells woman
embedding it in the deep recesses of my memory.
Come, come softly to me, my innocent virgin bride.
Categories:
embedding, love, me, me,
Form:
Lyric
braising thoughts arose as my lifeless
body huddled in a fetal position i' d completed
thirty hail mary's an yet my macerated flesh
lay still as the sun began
to settle embedding itself almost oh how vain i was
thinking merely of beauty
my beauty taken in an instant on impact
how selfish i was addressing the father how dare you
why this isn't living an yet you promised
i shall die and live i doted on you believing every word
like a faithful child twitching kicking the paramedics
oh what a bad patient scolding the rescue workers
for saving my retched life
do they not see the father in view are they blinded
by the light the sullen hue
that consumed my being torn flesh from my face
ah in my lowliness my wisdom edified
as st anthony strolls by in a distant glare mending me
this sereme endeavor captured
my solace for peace although there was no peace
in my living i'd wandered deeply from earthly realms
a gentle peace in my dying bestowed me
i glanced at the road that swallowed me whole
leaving no sign of life it was then st theresa whispered
you are his child quickly i responded
oh no ma'am i'm not with child thinking only of my figure
she smiled a warm glow and whispered yet again
you are his child she gestured to another woman
st cicelia quite childlike to my eyes
she chanted you are woman you are child
do you understand i responded amidst my sufferage
for the sake of his sorrowful passion
i over stand his divine mercy
Categories:
embedding, angel, beach,
Form:
Dramatic Monologue
Life on earth began with a mass of dust,
Embedding itself in the earth’s most fragile crust;
Life of ever-growing trees all began with a leaf or a little grass,
Followed by the appearance of our age old brass;
Then the earth gave way to the slimiest things called ‘animals’,
And from there came the most wonderful species called mammals…
One, two and three, it began,
Now it seems like more than hundred years of life span;
Oh! My graceful mother earth!
When everything began you were brown,
When it seemed to last a little longer, you turned yellow,
Years went by and you chose to be green,
With a little blue all over seen;
Every soul was behind your beauty,
All humans chose the path of creativity;
From Shakespeare to Wordsworth to Carroll to Lee,
Everyone wrote to you, what they could see;
Now you are, what I can count,
With your streets and traffics and roads and lanes,
With cars and autos and trucks and cranes;
With dust and leaves and stones and wood,
All that I can write and surely I could;
I know I am just a part of your crust,
But it seems like everything is going back to the dust;
From blue to green to yellow and brown,
When I think, it just makes me frown;
But probably you are just getting old,
Realizing the truth, oh it makes me feel cold;
So just tell me you’ll remain what you are at least now,
Only to let me live and to show the world how to love;
I am sure to tell,if they really knew, what love was,
You wouldn’t have been what you are alas!!
Categories:
embedding, natureme, blue, earth, me,
Form:
Haiku
Day to year living in the shadows of life
Events, eventualities thrown like stones
Embedding in ones soul, pointed knives
Physical mental scars, some shown
This roaming through time, life's strife
Inhaled, our living poisonous spores
Exhaled near suffocation, breathless
Living in the shadows of life, day to year
Moments in time encompassed by they
Sporadic but reality fused by ones fear
Stones thrown, their leaving marks say
It's overcoming such, to again life's steer
Inhale, prevail, give existence your all
Exhale, reveal, your life thrall to live
.
Categories:
embedding, anger, angst, anxiety, deep,
Form:
Ottava rima
Winter grates as the blackbird roams
through frosted limbs of trees... and shrills;
while moon hides from a brooding night
its call, the threadbare air, refills.
My eyes mirror this drowning hymn
while breaths cry out to agonize.
Deep within a starless backdrop
iced feathers cause anguish to rise.
And ebon wings defrock my mind
embedding stains on bleak frontier;
keeper of omen dares to haunt
as love’s requiem awaits here.
Though wrapping the light from its crawl,
snowflakes drop on my pallid face
till raven foul the morning breaks ;
in dawn’s arms I lose fate’s embrace.
...................
Kelly Deschler's The Raven
9/27/2014
Categories:
embedding, angst, bird,
Form:
Rhyme
A spirit of dreams
I haunt subconscious
wells. Alone in the vast,
unconscious realm of man's dreams,
I heal. Mistily, floating in moonbeams
I spell love and truth.
These are my essence and dimension,
no intervention. My dust reveals all.
Down the twisting spiral
of minds I go, touching each chamber
of mood. Nightly, embedding crystals of hope,
I span eternally good.
My hair holds the fragrance
of all the worlds’ flowers,
my breath is the mist of miracles.
My voice pleads to soldiers in battle.
My grief fills earth's oceans with tears.
I am the comfort of mothers.
I am the keeper of fears.
Infinity cannot contain me,
for, I am the Messenger of Peace.
Written October 1999
116 words
For Laura Loos Free Verse in 150 or less words
Categories:
embedding, beauty, dream, hope, peace,
Form:
Free verse
Here is to you crazy fellas
Those who are covenanted to the religion of distinctiveness
And heralds of unique unthinkable patterns
Here is a salute to you
Those, who against the popular opinion and trend, stick to their principles and confession
Thus cementing their loyalty and guaranteed blessings
Here is a tribute to you
Those, who go against traditions in a bid to creating new arts and unconditional techniques
Thus cementing their status as dynamic civilization heralds
Here is to the dogged ones
Those who despite numerous failures, get back up and try for one more time
Thus embedding their names in the scrolls of the victorious
Here is a much needed recognition
Those, behind the scenes who humbly strive to attain victory, (which most people ascribe to another)
Thus laying favorable foundations, upon which their launching forth would be smooth sailing
Here are much needed encouragement
Persistently persist in your beliefs,
For in them you shall be celebrated
Give no cognisance whatsoever to people around, Who continually discourage you for they are spectators who must cheer for you when you make it
Love yourself much,
For you will certainly not feel the love around your environs
Love God best,
For only He can give you the strength to achieve all your heart desires.
#BASHORUN
Categories:
embedding, christian, crazy, dedication, endurance,
Form:
Ode
Flurries bite as the raven drools
it sits on frosted boughs and trills.
Amid the numb of winter’s limbs
its call, the threadbare air, refills.
My eyes mirror the lone hill’s song
while breaths cry out to agonize.
Deep within a moonless backdrop
phases of blue cause dullness to rise.
Prickly snow defrocks my gladness
Embedding stains on bleak frontier.
Oh torch of light, kindle the pyre
to awaken mood quite sullen here!
..........
Winter Blues Contest of Juli-Michelle
by nette onclaud
Categories:
embedding, lonely, winter,
Form:
Rhyme
New England's post election trees
shed a few teary waving leaves.
Morning sky tries to shine resilience
yet lingers in ominous grey overcast
of silent waiting through despair.
In Michigan and Wisconsin and Pennsylvania
tens of thousands of mothers
who cherish their daughters
are beating themselves up about yesterday;
longing for a do-over
to avoid confidence in false predictions
of safely voting their libertarian ecoconsciousness,
or too quietly staying home
to rake falling fertile leaves.
Failing leaves feel their personal mortality,
too old, over-extended, to survive another bitter winter
of expatriation
while maternal nurturing root systems survive through hibernation,
deeply embedding in Earth's nutritional compost
of yeasty faith,
waiting for another Advent ecopolitical Season.
Not a branch,
not even a twig stirs from frosty lethargy
wondering Why?
Why would we decide slavery must be illegal
because immoral
yet sexual and capital and incorporated predation
remains legally and morally ambiguous,
as if wealth of male supremacist nobility
were God's full harvest of regenerative moral gifts,
excusing by betraying grace
this fortunate entitlement
of LeftBrain enduring cockiness
to welcome winter's misery,
Earth's hiatus from integrally nurturing ecology.
Hiding even the sun's radiant morning glory
from disunited piles of leaving ballots
already preparing to fertilize richer soils
in four more autumnal climate years.
Categories:
embedding, autumn, depression, earth, health,
Form:
Political Verse