Best Entrances Poems
i sit lonely.
the crowded restaurant is thick with sound
i pick away at it
moving back into the stagnant silence
of my own comfort
the air is nasty here
it telepathically abuses my thought patterns
still
a far cry better
the loud hum of food
marching to the vacant crowd
suffocates me
a decorated plate joins my table
strikes a conversation with the cutlery
there is no call from the governor
as i attack my food
fork knife teeth
bites later
a paper plane flies in
a swipe of my plastic
makes quick work of the bill
i exit
seemingly quicker
than human eyes can catch
i hate this part
i parley my way through
too many bodies
all the while staring
at a concrete maze
never making eye contact
with a single soul
i do that
i always do that
keep the entrances of my being
away from those who would stare me down
attempt to engage me in conversation
with a desire to lock eyes
if they looked in they would burn
i’d be held responsible
FINALLY
home
the only environment i feel safe in
my therapist will be proud
almost an hour today
assuming i see her again
i am covered in my own dew
my breathing sporadic
i line up an array of pills like good soldiers
as i continue my attempt
survive another day
it will take hours to regain my sanity
all the while questioning the purpose
why must i assimilate
back into the dungeons
they call society
it behooves me
find one reason
join the rank and file
plug back into a horrendous grid
i had escaped
i
grow
weary
of
my
own
thoughts
ignore my voice
slowly regain my footing
plant roots
hope they’ll take hold
attempt to return
into the vacuum of my existence
i sit lonely.
As droplets freeze half-breathed
From the mouth of Winter
Howling winds, foreboding
Bring gloom to pale landscape
Yet the Ice Enchantress
Conjures sultriness:
Fluttering tree lashes
Snow-covered ample breast
Her crystal lips invite
She burns despite the chill
And dares adventurers
To succumb to her will
Despite the threat of death
It's futile to resist
The cool invitation
Which glistens from her eyes
As she entrances those
Who cannot look away
But step so willingly
Into a blissful fate
First place in Constance La France's "Let it Snow" contest
I have chosen You.
Sweet and handsome mortal, come to me…
Whisper to me your longings,
and I shall tickle your ear with my saccharine breath.
I shall take you to places
where only gods and goddesses roam.
Aware am I of how my radiant beauty entrances you...
Be thankful to the Fates that it is you I have chosen.
I have sprung forth from Ocean's foam,
but we shall churn that sea...
Flowers at my feet would pale
to the flowers that spring forth from my heart
How I know too well that my eyes mesmerize
A twinkle from the windows of my soul
and I know I have captured you.
I would gladly take off these necklaces ‘round my supple neck
if it means that your lips trail soft kisses instead…
I would happily unclasp these brooches in my hair,
and let my flowing tresses
tickle your gorgeous face and body,
as I take my turn to adorn you with my kisses.
I shall discard these golden robes made by the Kharites and the Horai
and reveal my nubile body for you to explore
with your eyes…
…with your hands
with your lips…
Let the Seasons be forgotten,
as we move to only know of Love.
I have chosen You.
Sweet and handsome mortal, Come to me…
August 5, 2010
I LOVE THEE
I am no voluptuous beauty nor do I live a life of purity
I can only say: I love wholeheartedly with all I am so truthfully
I keep my heart open though it gets hurt so often
I avoid to be irate as I know love changes the heart rate..
Guys tried to coo and woo, they say words as for "only you"
Yet, hard to believe it is true as I see some untrue
I give chances as my heart marks with tact entrances
I learned from various instances looking man in romances
In places where rules impede, two persons who wants to bid
Not of money but of affection, in them must be determination
I love thee not of what you have…
Not even of who you are but to how you are to me…
If I love you, don't tell me much what to do…
As me, myself will show you, I am that real and true..
Yes, I am liked by many but tell you what:
I don't like this honey nor am I proud of it in anyway
One is enough to make me stay
Stand with me through it all, I give my best not to fall
My name your sweetest call echoing in every wall..
Hold me firm yet dear; allow me to move closely
We'll make it anyhow, treading smoothly on flows...
We are strong, aren't we? No one moving alone
Together we'll face phases in tune, though there will dunes..
________________________________________________________
© OLIVE ELOISA D. GUILLERMO
3:25 pm, 07/13/2013
***CONTEST: ANY POEM GOES #13
SPONSOR: POET DESTROYER
8TH PLACE (TO GOD BE THE GREATEST GLORY)
***Sponsor SKAT A
Contest Name Any Old Poem #5
4th place
Sweet the taste of honeyed lips
Upon my own, now drenched in bliss
Nectar tempting, beckoning with
Passion's most consuming kiss
Outpouring tenderness so softly
Though hearts are heavy, they alight
Engulf each thought of rationale
As we succumb to this delight
Outside nothing else exists
While this rare moment we prolong
Ceasing fight and argument, now
We give in to the siren song
The melody we play entrances
As would hypnotic pendulum
Heart strings strum forbidden dances
As it beats a savage drum
Leading up to its crescendo
The rhythm pounds erratically
Pulsing, raging, beats the tempo
Until we find our ecstasy
Jewel-colored butterflies flutter in scarlet sage
Hovering hummingbirds on a red tubular stage
Highways they navigate apparently their own
Invisible to humans as they stay in their zone
These lovely creatures are by nature vivacious
At times if necessary can also be fallacious
Both either drift or glide in on a breeze
Plunge into a vortex of nectar sweets
Satiation of thirst while lost in the moment
Entrances spectators with similar enjoyment
There are days when fluttering colors
Dissipate daily woes... a gift of the hummers
Butterflies and hummingbirds are beauties to behold
Their appeal is captivating and never grows old
POTD - June 30, 2018
August 28, 2018
Contest 485, Any Form, Any Theme
By Brian Strand
First Place
Pick a Theme Contest
By Viv Wigley
Theme - There Are Days When
Eighth Place
Altered from Poem Lush Garden - August 26, 2018
My heart has accepted every piece of furniture
you have brought in and hoarded, polished and stored,
for show or hidden in the attic of cerebral storage.
Cobwebs draped the entrances I walked through
without wincing, chasing extinguishing light…
gold tarnishing possibilities that I found invaluable.
AFTER HOURS
Dudes in duds broken down brims
cocked and bent creases in trousers
when thugs were gents
People with attitude women too
demeanor and outfits like
Ebony's front pages
Dudes in duds broken down brims
Money on backs eyes watching
the eye's of watchers
Entrances and exits.
Wink or nod jazz in smoky
rooms groomed and manicured.
sashay across the room stepping off in
Bally's shoes shined no scuff
after hours.
high profile.. Dudes in duds
broken down brims.
Men creating temporary illusions
Clean to the bone
deliberate sashay tempo exaggerated
tempting and teasing pleasing the eye
karat's on fingers scents linger
Exquisite cologne clean to the bone
faded edges -role playing no script
Dudes in duds
Broken down brims cocked and bent.
Attitude in threads
We wait to be called in that back room
Where they'd spit "Gangsta Wit".
before videos
Was dudes in duds with sweet tongues
making their points in after hour joints.
Live and direct we upstarts
learning our parts we'd sit
internalizing gangsta wit
like understudies to a movie script
In after hours joints........... delighted...
A Palace of Aloneness.
This palace of aloneness is not my home.
It's bricks know only the time of run-off bygones.
Transition past it's thousand entrances
Impaired with creeping ivy
Into it's stately communion hall
For the dead and the living you'll end up.
Look out it's eyes towards blurred views
Draped in so longs never to be clearly revealed.
Gawk at it's floor to ceiling shelves infinitely crowded
With ô so decidedly swollen hearts
Captive inside tightly sealed jars.
To dust them is not my task.
Here, cabinets are filled with illogical medicines
For conditions without extensional cures.
A repository for good and bad intentions.
You'll know as soon as you feel it
That you are there.
I'll take no residence in this palace
On the dark side of it's interference.
Secure no long or short term stay in it.
This settlement has no neighbors
To cheerily comfort with a smile.
No happiness locker, no blowing kisses.
No escape if you accept lodging here.
Move on, let weighty doors close before you
That have no real escape.
About-face before it's dark shadow becomes you.
Recapture only evidence that matters.
There is no recouping backwards.
Offer up your redress to tomorrow today.
Flee past this palace of forlornness.
Avoid it's thorns upon your ankles.
Clutch your heart from head to toe.
Keep your future safe to ascent again.
Stay out and away look up to heavens above
Even now they are clouded with silver linings.
Sleep with me under the afghan of stars
illuminary milk pouring out of heaven's jars
A storm of sliding satellites colliding can be ours
as we ribbon out our lives in whispered stories.
~Whisking up of ink in your eyes white peppered mint
while our breath entrances frost on the eve of night fall's wrist
We are still intangible, first here, but than a mist
as vagrant as sweet stars in their last glory.
Shoulders hug the trees with their limbs limp silhouette
while we strip translucent star capes to their bows with no regret
Moon beam pure explosions to beget and to beget
the light with which we pine for now in haste~
Sleep with me under the myriads of minds
which slept here before us and whispered in kind
We will be stardust ourselves you will find
as our wings of illusion unravel.
Jean would go with me
to Exhibitions in halls.
Our passion was factories
in photos a-sheen.
Glossy factories
with no people outside or in,
but gleaming machines
in factories - a sheen.
Tall chimneys,
and sheer entrances.
A weekend, surely, for
machines, they were still.
Jean would go with me,
talking loudly as usual,
but I would say "Hush,
here are factories a-sheen."
-------------------------------
11/8/2016
Contest - Practiced Passion
Sponsor - Frank Herrera
4th place win
Discover the joy in your life today
Such as, love and fun from your special pet
Watch God’s creation of wildlife play
Resting beneath colors of a sunset
All of the time, joy dances around you
Such as, love and fun from your special pet
Bright pictures found in moments feeling blue
Open the door to let the joy inside
All of the time, joy dances around you
There is no reason to run or to hide
Opportunities wait for you to see
Open the door to let the joy inside
Never leave laughter behind, let it be
Kaleidoscope of emotions is bright
Opportunities wait for you to see
Caves of darkness have entrances of light
Discover the joy in your life today
Kaleidoscope of emotions is bright
Watch God’s creation of wildlife at play
Heidi Sands
5/16/22
The most beautiful girl in the world.
Have you seen her?
The most beautiful girl in the world!
I have! And she is a wonder to behold
She stops traffic, no need for police
She lights up a room, she's that electric
She shines brighter than the brightest
diamonds and pearls
She's the most beautiful girl in the world
There's nothing that compares to her
nothing else to look upon, to gaze upon
for she is the sole possessor
of all the beauty that exists.
Her smile, her kindness, her grace
entrances, mesmerizes, paralyzes
Have you seen her? I have!
To be close to her for a moment
to catch a glimpse of her elegance
is all that is needed to take your
breath away, and once that is done
you can die in peace
as you are breathless anyway.
Have you seen her? I have!
Now there's nothing left to do
but to wait, until she appears again
So ...I'll just stay here...waiting...
contemplating my
vision of loveliness
my wife.
John Derek Hamilton
April 22,2016
Deepening Dusk
by Odin Roark
How might this relentless approach of final darkness
present its final moments before curtain?
The acts have been rewarding,
even as the protagonist and antagonist
missed some cues,
made a few false entrances,
and at times confused the audience
of only me.
Thankfully…
My catwalk view
where having long ago embraced
Gordon Craig’s Uber-Marionette concept,
his self-aware-life-enactment
being simultaneously puppet and puppeteer,
prepared me well for the Marcus Aurelius’ Meditations:
“All of us are creatures of a day;
the rememberer and the remembered alike.
The time is at hand when you will have forgotten everything,
And the time is at hand when all will have forgotten you.”
Such is the synchronous epiphany
with a drama’s final curtain
allowing a moment’s pause
before one’s inner-house lights
illumine yet another transition,
from “what if” to “what is” to “what might be”.
Hopefully the staging of one’s mirrored life
becomes companionable for the journey back home,
that place in one’s mind
where comforts remain tenuous
by often reluctant acceptance,
when overcoming challenges
is beyond one’s ability.
Yet…
To prepare for the final unpredictable,
when one’s deepening dusk
no longer finds the stage lit,
when illusion and delusion applaud together
the finished performance of one’s choices,
one’s experiences delineated into one’s
inner-monologue of truth.
“Pass, then, through this little space of time
in harmony with nature and end thy journey in contentment,
just as an olive falls off when it is ripe,
blessing nature who produced it,
and thanking the tree on which it grew.”
Marcus Aurelius
Dawn's light gained gently in the east,
casually erasing the remnant of a fine, misty
fog away from a deep and enfolding night.
The eastern skies rang out, a bell choir
peeling, in gold and strawberry light.
Shades of pastel glory painted themselves against
the last thread-gray clouds along the skyline.
Flawless sunlight soon won the day,
as did the pristine autumn air, which embraced
each visitor with soft, subdued whispers.
This day, from the first breaking beams of light
until the final fading glow of its passing sun, spoke of
the season's transcendent splendor.
Perceptive visitors sought to take each breath
of air with solemn purpose, opening
the eyes of their inner self; experiencing
each new and unfolding vista of life
and nature in rapt wonder.
We are fortunate to have witnessed many
grand entrances and exits of the sun and seasons
in their deliberate arc. On this morning
and evening, many were moved to tears
at having been granted the sublime
privilege of knowing we are a part of
the great synchronism of life.
October 24th, 2014