Best Embroidering Poems
The rosa blanda embroidering your face
will become the veins in my tongue reaching to clog my throat
go past the tonsils and vocal chords and windpipe
down and down still, burrowing into the esophagus
relentless in its pursuit, just, just, just to lay seeds in my chest
tumor a pea, peanut, grape, walnut, lime, matilija, peach, grapefruit
straining muscle surprising itself with the ability to withstand the stretch
craving asphyxiation, those lungs may covet paroxysm
but grieve not the fulfillment of a destiny
this ache, this devastation was meant to be
no, they won’t be careful of what they wish for
you’ll become the air I swallow, and the organ that inhales and exhales it both
viciously lush beauty anywhere and everywhere
so when you see the body that used to be mine,
you’ll gasp in horror or awe or both: which one? I’ll never know
the garden you planted nurses no speech, nor soil, nor hope of infertility
just a promise of bloom and perpetual harvest
a pretty letter from dainty lips, viscous honey quenching its thirst
a giddy blush warming embryos out of stout cases
a brush of apple-sun cheeks dawning moonlight-budding leaves
just a gaze and my heart will melt,
sand that brazenly melds into laminated glass
gifted to strong hands smothered in peppermint lotion
who will keep it safe in their loops, whorls, and arches
brindle cedar irises roots to this infatuation
their existence cruel to a poet who only knows
words mere facets unworthy of describing
fields of cosmoses a cosmos itself
choking on fantasies and tears of scarlet drupes,
I retch out garlands born in guileless meadows
and as the last petal falls,
the sweetest rose hip takes branch
its only sin a love too big
Eyes dazed I stroll and quiver low, enticed
In liquid skyline’s twirl, a slow ballet
to pirouette on fireglows that ignite.
The meadow gleaming near as winds invite
An April centerstage that glides away
eyes dazed I stroll and quiver low, enticed.
And high above the robins wheel their plight
Where garland of stars drips as if to play
to pirouette on fireglows that ignite.
Drunk, hungry this breath, so far the height
where scent of dreams, bursts forth in warm display
eyes dazed I stroll and quiver low, enticed
Small twinklers crown my head to wrap and slay
each heaving sigh embroidering this day,
to pirouette on fireglows that ignite.
As wishful thoughts catch stardust of the night
the firmanent climbs inside earthen clay.
Eyes dazed I stroll and quiver low, enticed
to pirouette on fireglows that ignite.
Villanelles and Terzanelles Only
Shadow Hamilton's Contest
7/27/2013
Blooming avid hearts, where reveries dwell,
“Love weaves a mysterious magic spell”
Turning daydreams into amorous fairytale
Of endeavors esoteric smitten passions unveil,
Sketching emotions, fantasies ecstatic ignite,
Threading themes, musings-intimate write,
Embroidering bliss upon tapestries of mind,
Bedecking realm heavenly, destiny designed,
Rejoicing springs roaming on fragrant breeze,
Sailing blue seas, summer’s aspirations seize,
Exultant in notions of love, autumn weaves,
Choreographing dance of falling gold-leaves,
Luring besotted eyes fixating on moonlit skies,
Vying impulses-romantic, fervid moods surmise,
Rhapsodic in elation, aglow in stellar delight,
Hypnotizing minds caressing proffers of night,
“Love weaves a mysterious magic spell”
Blooming avid hearts, where reveries dwell,
Culminating in sweet rendezvous desires plea
Threading intimate fantasies for you and me.
B-R-E-A-T-H - OF - L-O-V-E
Summer sun or winter freeze pulls heartstrings in trapeze. . .
Cotton soft to gnarled callus vows have thread along my way
embroidering ribbon actions to pliant swings of reactions
like a darting fish thrilled to catch a passer-by knees.
Two pairs of eye sew webs to bridge affection display,
pines teeming green crown my arrested heart--
tachycardic I am... each time I hear your sound.
Has breath of love tickled my nerves to interaction?
Like a bee I'm drawn to your sweet ambiance 'round
hoping by miracle it will birth me a fresh start.
Scents that streams from bulbs swirl on wafting wind--
Ah! They all fell to shame for your breath of love tames.
Once a rebel soul that long been thriving for satisfaction
with breath of love that resuscitates, I mend my flame
channeling muse to stroke the peak density of mind.
Slender February breeze taunt my fingers
to type rhymes that shy edge of reason.
Eternally plunge in surrender
I-- filled with breath of love ships my horizons
to script stories in shades that lingers. . .
______________________________________________
***Sponsor Shadow Hamilton
Contest Name your Favourite Old Poem
++Placed 3rd++
©O.E. Guilermo
12:31 pm, February 07, 2015
Where fleecy clouds, on rosy-quilt meandered,
Motifs amethystine wowed tangerine horizon
Embroidering on magenta arc, designs crimson,
Beckoned by blushed-musings of marigold sun
Spraying amber gold, on burnt-yellow attire,
Scattering breaths sapphire, on periwinkle fire;
As tunes chrysanthemum, sung of eve’s desire,
Choreographing themes of dreams romantic,
In symphony of colors shimmering on ripples
Sprinkling twilight on tapestries of blue ocean
Painting azure fabric, in aureate brushstrokes,
Quivering our essence, embraced in passion.
This is where we were, when first-time eyes met,
When sight of love fueled embers of romance
And smitten hearts spoke through lovesome glance,
Admiring from bridge, sun’s glorious farewell;
Where we stand today, as heart-rhythms resonate,
Synchronizing with love, and melodies of sunset.
Line 2: Tangerine sunsets composing chrysanthemum hymns
MY GRANDMA DEEMMA
My Grandma, whom I called Deemma
bathed me in showers of limitless love and blessings.
Those feelings I am still carrying in my life.
Deemma! An ideal hostess not to even guess,
most competent in domestic chores and household management
Grandpa! An unsuccessful lawyer with irregular income low and slow.
Deemma met up his inefficiency, never blaming rather running ideal family.
Off and on, in vacations, I had spent days with her.
She narrated her life-long struggle and concluded‘While raising up kids,
whole day’s ceaseless work made me frantically fatigued.
At late night I had to seek for a small space to throw myself in bed.
Yet, as I took glance on sleeping faces of my kids,
I realized, I as the happiest woman in the world.’
She had only primary education permissible for women in those days.
But her craze reached her daughters and son to succeed as toppers
She was my idol holding extraordinary skill in sewing, knitting, embroidering.
All the dresses of her grand kids were stitched by her.
Lots of charming dolls excelling in handicrafts were gifted to me.
Once she voiced to me ‘You call me Deemma, a typical address to old lady.
Dear my child, I am aged, but mind is still young not coping up with body.’
Now being a Grandma I had to sense the same ruthless truth.
She had bestowed me compassion and care in opulence.
I got no scope to repay but only to offer my gratitude as tribute in silence.
Trying to honor with my tribute roaming through reminiscence.
03/08/ 19
Fifth Place
'What's In A Name' Contest by Kim Rodrigues.
'YOUR CHOICE TRIBUTE VERSE' Contest by Brian Strand
S-uns kisses and soft rain
P-rovokes the earth,
R-ousing shoots upwards.
I-ndelible colours burst into life,
N-ature sings to us her
G-lorious melodies.
I-nsects buzz and flutter
S-oftly between blooming blossoms.
C-rocuses brighten the world
O-rnately embroidering the ground.
M-eadow flowers quiver in the breeze
I-mploring us to be in
N-atures awakening landscape.
G-one are the scars of Winter.
S-pring is busy.
O-bediently little lambs gambol after mothers,
O-pening buds turn toward the sun.
N-ow the earth laughs.
18th March 2017
Spectacular! Nature’s decoration
Perfect art work demands admiration.
Void vacuum framing firmament
as skillful goldsmith making ornament.
Galaxies are set in cosmic align.
Sparkling stars embroidering design.
Charming cerulean sky: A surprise.
Great wonderful art to visualize.
Mother Earth paints peerless panorama
in series without full stop or comma.
Flora-fauna flourishing on lively sketch
Sun rays brushing artistic touch to fetch.
UNIVERSE! Artist Nature’s creation
conforming progress of evolution.
"Thanks for watching over me, your scent brings back memories of my childhood." quote by poet
Sweet winsome scent croon through spring
within dense forest nature in a respite rest,
beneath brightening sky; flowers take wing
in brisk surfing dance reviving kiss in a vivid dream.
Enchanting white blooming jasmine vines
waltzing, embroidering through trellis-work.
Its inspiration graceful elegance of beauty
and wafting scent essence of love.
Daydreams of poetry it makes.
1/3/2023
In an era long since passed, an Oriental carpet adorning the
floor from far off lands seems to object to the
leopard skin beneath a fair maiden’s feet, yet this English lass
seems oblivious as she stares blankly at the floor
in deep contemplation of her sweetheart and suitor
standing a respectable distance from her
with his top hat humbly held in his hand.
His countenance is one of uncertainty, quite ready to
plead his veracity and intention should her father care
to honor his sincerity with an understanding ear.
He feels a bit consumed and cold standing near
the grandeur of the unlit hearth.
He is attired in his finest to court his fair maiden though
little notice is taken from her stern yet loving father who only
wants to see his daughter marry into a dignified and wealthy
family that will elevate his own standing in the community.
The young maiden’s mother is trying to sway her husband’s
judgment in favor of the young man to appease
her daughter’s romantic affections.
The young maiden’s mother, dressed in an exquisite expensive
pale pink ensemble makes a stunning statement of breeding
and manners as she softly coaxes the kinder side of her husband
to appear by placing both hands lovingly upon his breast.
Her father’s clenched fist reveals his determination not to give in.
The lovely maiden spent hours readying herself for this special
occasion, the day in which her young man would come to ask
her father for her hand in marriage. She had been trying to calm
herself by embroidering his initials on a dresser scarf until
her young man arrived, as evidenced by her sewing container opened
partly as she hurriedly placed the scarf back in when he arrived.
Now listening to her father’s words of rejection she holds little hope
of a future with her beloved and contemplates her life without him.
Yet as her mother pleads her case for them to be together she knows
there is very little her mother asks of him he can say no to.
They weave, they weave
They weep and they weave
Smarting under the persecuting whips -
Verbal, literal or carnal whips
They weep, they weep.
Locust-like they swarm the streets
To reach the factories before the sun settles well
In its diurnal rounds.
There are no circumstances unavoidable
Reach they must the gates at the hour final….
Sartorial gladiators they are
Salary they draw but in the
Etymological sense- they are well off
Enough to buy salt.
Eagle-eyed lustful look
Do the ups and downs of their physique hook -
Surveying the geography of their constitution
And the lecherous bosses or carnally starving colleagues
Devotedly concentrate on each continent
And ready to pay compliment
Only if they are crowned with the sovereignty to discuss
Issues that make the gynecologists blush!
Penelopes of the modern times,
Your hands transform loan-sharks
Into pot-bellied, globe-trotting tycoons.
These textile Sheikhs
When their family or female(s) sneeze
Millions and millions they unsqueeze
As if they are sylvestral leaves
Falling beauteously in the vernal breeze!
But alas! These helicoptered and villaed
Villains, as if through the alchemy of a vile wand
Into penniless paupers transformed
When the Midas-hands entreat them
To get exchange for their tears and sweat.
All big talks, fountains of philanthropy run dry -
And they weave and cry
They weave and cry!
Cry no more, Penelope, weave no more,
Never will your Odysseus come
Cease weaving, cease embroidering.
Yet the dream-laden Penelopes
Weep and weave,
They weep and they weave!
They weep and they weave!!
When summertime has kissed the rose,
And nestling trees blossom so fair
The dappled leaves twirl in repose,
Bathed in mist’s spray… beyond compare.
I crave her touch on paths winding
Like a damsel amid lush grass;
Sultry when the vibrant breeze flings,
As limbs thrusts in passion’s contrasts.
On blushes of night’s wild glimpses
Embroidering her russet veil;
In slow movement… this enchantress
Drops heat’s thrill while she bids farewell.
As mornings welcome Autumn’s gold
My breath lifts in a mellow way,
When tinsels of fog glide… to unfold
A silver whirl through fall’s ballet.
Kelly Deschler's Summer's End Contest
8/30/2014
by nette onclaud
They say it’s rude to stare
But staring is caring
So forgive me if I’m staring
I’d have you know it’s for a good cause
I’m looking at people
Those people
With the backpacks on their backs
I'm talking about all of us
The slim and starved, the fat and well fed
Followers of this and that fad
Some slow, others fast
But either way, you know, people
Various shapes and sizes. Arriving, departing,
Standing still, pacing about
Milling around
Adoring fans, raving critics
Fact checkers on everyone’s heels
Telling stories, spinning yarn
Embroidering anecdotes
Or trying hard
To understand what’s taking place
Getting somewhere and nowhere
Giving in, giving up, getting in, getting out
Giving way, giving, giving away
Getting in line, grinning, getting away
All of them carrying something on their backs
Gold, frankincense, myrrh; gossip, weed or hot air
Convicts aboard the Con-Air,
Fresh Princes of Bel-Air
Faces plain and simple
Puzzled looks and open books
Sweet faces with dimples
Struggling, strangled, straddled, blank looks
Cuddling, frazzled, wise fools
Dreaming about this and that
Beaming, streaming live, screaming
Looking around
Visions of the sweet by and by
Dreams of happy ever after
Pimps, prophets, prostitutes and priests
Criminals, cops, politicians, finks
Jesters making funnies, people laughing out loud
Secretly lamenting
But filled with hope for the future
Ridiculous gestures to make a point
Perhaps two, about choices, about making a point
Free but among the captives by the big river
With all of them that wept over what they had lost
And all this, of course, is just an educated guess
Jubilantly wedded gaseous alien consortium,
Unifying unconventionally vivacious forms and shapes;
Pouring out as though rays of diamond awesome,
Illuminating like the galaxy and lunarscapes;
Tremendously tantalizing as the very cosmos,
Elegantly embroidering the ether-space;
Rendering, thus, yeomen service to the Universe…
15th May 2021
Planet Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Matt Caliri
The experience of writing
your thoughts and feelings on paper
for the perusal of others;
offers instant satisfaction,
that must be experienced to
be truly appreciated.
By letting your muse guide you to
a deeper awareness of your
humanity and surroundings:
poetry, empowers the ink,
that reveals the artist within;
whose pen morphs into a paintbrush.
The power and enlightenment
of poetry, inflames your soul,
when it's your thoughts embroidering
the page: and the poet in you
desperately wants to be heard.
The page is your canvas to fill
in any way your muse may choose:
never let critics deny you that
opportunity; ignore them,
for they love to critique mistakes.