Best Entreating Poems
Dear Quintain, how beautiful you are,
allowing us to paint the spacious sea or sky,
landscapes, or nights’ celestial bodies beckoning from afar.
Even when my quill is running dry,
with you along, my thoughts are sure to fly!
For all I need to do
is let you slip inside, then nestle in my brain.
The pattern of rhyme required by you
is not too difficult; here I will remain
content to write with you, dear Quintain.
Your English form, so lovely, does not ask
that we adhere to meter even though
I want to dance your lines as I bask
in your sweet simple charms, and lo!
My quill has filled; my lines now start to flow!
I’ll keep on going for two stanzas more
because I wish to sing
your praises! My mind is like a shore
upon which you are tumbling, glistening!
A sea of inspiration you bring.
Continue on - through poets - bringing words
that paint our world, entreating all to see
God’s gifts or to enjoy the singing birds,
taste clear mountain springs, and smell the salty sea.
Continue, dear Quintain, enrapturing me.
Written 8/17/2015 , this is English Quintain, which has rhyme scheme of ababb and the lines do not have to be consistent in syllable count
He writes His poems in the sun…
Streaming through the trees at dawn.
He pens a beautiful stanza…
When the deer takes graceful flight.
He rhymes the words that we feel…
With more than a sing-song appeal.
He whispers affection and compassion…
Through the words that bring us acceptance.
God’s kind of poetry is more than words and phrases.
He murmurs his greatest feelings through intimacies…
Appealing to our hearts and that part of our souls…
That will reach out with vulnerabilities, entreating…
Needing the ultimate peace, the dream, the love…
Love that is everything – love that is unconditional.
He writes His poems in the rain…
That brings fresh air to all that it cleans.
He pens His greatest phrases….
In the songs of birds who sing delight.
He rhymes His words together so sweetly…
That we feel the warmth within.
He whispers a deep and meaningful expression…
Through the words that tell us we are loved.
God’s kind of poetry is more than rhymes and stanzas.
He sighs out a beautiful sentence of compassion,
A deeply abiding affection that reminds us…
His love is deeper than we can understand.
He cares more than we can comprehend.
He is wiser than the wisdom we try to grasp.
And His love is all that we will ever need to live…
A life that is filled with every hope, faith and love….
All the joys sent from God above.
In dream lone blackbird sits on telephone line,
pleading, what more do I have to give.
Wing once beat out a metronome in time..
leaving thoughts lost through a sieve.
I swore to rebuild our earthen dam,
and hold the waters at bay.
Your dream found a different plan,
left nothing more to say.
Race, now long finished, deemed total loss..,
left my prideful soul entreating.
Waste heart's song diminished, too high the cost,
ask why the day so fleeting.
Last candle's light gleamed in his glowering gaze,
Write journal'd fate, no answer would he belie,
September's temper teamed in shortened days,
to kiss late remember'd lips good-bye.
Her lust for you is fierce.
She spreads it out before you
as if it were a lavish bridegroom’s dinner
of caviar, oysters and shrimp;
spears of warmed asparagus and
artichokes stripped of leaves to dip in luscious butter;
truffles too with fragrant muskiness;
all foods of succulence - inciting appetite.
Her tender lips are moist - champagne to further whet desire.
Entreating you to take your fill, she whispers in your ear,
“Partake of me, my love. Take more and more.”
As you imbibe her and consume her,
your feeding frenzy peaks
when she offers from her fingers- sweetest fruit:
honeyed figs with cream, peaches, plums, and kumquats;
and one red well-ripened berry.
Utterly sated,
drunk from delectation;
motionless, you lie upon your bed.
And when your eyes move rapidly
beneath their heavy lids,
she slides her body carefully off yours,
slips back into her gossamer gown,
hastens on tiptoes to the door; turn the knob;
and without looking back,
steps into the blackness of the night.
You'll waken and want to feast again
but find that she has parted.
(to banquets such as hers,
one rarely is invited more than once).
And so you'll live and love,
knowing that you can never resume -
a coupling so completely gratifying.
Your passion was consumed in
your consuming of this goddess
who takes from men again. . . and again
But the nourishment that she requires
must always be fresh,
and that is what
eternally
sustains her.
A Revised Oldie for the Heart of Seduction Poetry Contest of Justin Bordner
To meet a woman such as you,
should've been shooting stars.
So it was in days of old..
let it be so again.
To feel your touch, hold your hand..
should've been Sonnets.
Endless flowing words,
sprouting forth a lover's pen.
Hard to resist when you say come hither,
you know I always would.
Melted long past the days of summer,
little heart mine, that dared it could.
Countenance hidden deep in soft eyes,
I long to find the meaning.
Strong-willed flavors of love, all mine..
leave bare my heart and soul entreating.
An appeal of poetry
is its lack of rules...
though not to be loose
as a plucked goose –
without bare essentials
for flight
struts of logic,
living words
that excite with lift
long after the reading
and initial gliding
a pleasant aftertaste
not necessarily sweet
often profound such seasoning
(therefore, freedom unbound
can be a self-inflicted
noose – God yet dealing
with His man, on the intellectual
physical loose
Poetry~ a harbinger of potential wings
Poetry~ the elastic of sling-shot words
woven hemp of curiosity and
senseful affixation, tautening the
the literary-bow
for enabled focused release
Poetry, the loftier dialogue of both
war and peace
can be a voice of cold desertion
while also the arms of love's entreating
embrace...
with pestilence of hell
while equally possessing
the charm of saintly chants~
Poetry, the voice of victory
and defeat, co-joining of
calm with fear, for their
similarity of awe
Poetry, a writer's quest to make
sense of both soothing nature
and seasonal temperament
of our creator
His sunny risings then quakes
and deluges confounded–
poetry, somewhere within
our fanciful journeys
imagines a deeper truth
that witty penetration
will hopefully incant off the page
rising up and out into blissful new
unbound, forever enlightening living
reality
Poetry, a soaring liberty
and grounding addiction....
I trudged to levy height, stood upon the soggy ground
with serious intentions that an answer would be found
To the river's rapidly flowing current, I confided my woes
of troubling things that had me in the doldrums of lows
Haunting problems, compelling me to leave and move on
Leading me to this river as if I were crossing the Rubicon
It's not my nature to feel caught between stay or take flight
but in desperation I stood, entreating the river of my plight
Willows on the bank, limbs swaying in the wind, listening—
weeping for my addled mind? In moonlight, tears glistening?
Do they whisper to the river what they'd suggest to me?
If I cross the bridge, then burned behind me it shall always be
My fate lies not on the telling of tree leaves or a river's flow
Two options I discern— should I cross the Rubicon and go?
Should I submit my heart and soul to the dreams of another
and live with wondering, "What if..." Only to die smothered?
It's the moment of truth — a decision too long have I delayed
Perhaps into the roiling river current, my steps should wade
By doing so, I'd avoid making the wrong choice of tribulations
having no need for explanations for my grievous lamentations
Would you crusade to remote regions
in search of that timeless tomb, the one made of seasalt & sandstone,
to towns tempered by the terror of war, windswept with worry,
Do prayer calls of the Jihadist singe the comfort breathing in your books of traditions,
could the Koran summon an instinct of journey in the feet of your hopes,
perhaps the Bardo Thadol a simmering shout from the monastery of one's monsters
suppressed in cells of selfless sorrow, daring repressed in reminiscence of rectitude,
in the Old Testament do you find aged allergies or fertile figments of prophets' pennies,
saviors in the center of gravity cinching the flinching surfacing in proverbs proofing
along the borders of the desserts chilling in the kitchen of your cares,
Maybe in front of the Wailing Wall you'd find dust entreating you to become a martyr
for the charm of morning, on your knees amid the Caaba perhaps sand jinies will jest,
in the midst of the tree grip of Angkor Watt the tongue of first life might muse of miracles
sewn into the sackcloth of parents' aspirations, conceptions wrought from the wanted,
take it to the sky, take it to the soil, take it to the core, let saints keep score,
take it 'till there is no more -
J.A.B. %
My name is Aphrodite and
my offering to man
is fierce love.
I spread it out before you
like a lavish bridegroom’s dinner
with foods named aphrodisiacs rightly after me!
Caviar, oysters and shrimp;
spears of warmed asparagus and
artichokes stripped of leaves to dip in luscious butter;
truffles too with fragrant muskiness;
all foods of succulence - to stimulate your appetite.
My tender lips are moist - champagne to further whet desire.
You drink me in. . .
Entreating you to take your fill, I whisper in your ear,
“Partake of me, my love. Take more and more.”
When your feeding frenzy
is at its peak -
that’s when I offer you - dripping from my fingers - sweetest fruit:
honeyed figs with cream, peaches, plums, and kumquats;
and last: one red well-ripened berry.
Utterly sated,
drunk from delectation;
motionless, you lie there on your bed.
And when your eyes move rapidly
beneath their heavy lids,
I slide my body carefully off yours,
slip back into my gossamer-thread gown,
then tiptoe to the door; turn the knob;
and without looking back,
step into night.
You waken and want to feast again
but find that I have parted.
(to banquets such as mine, one rarely
is invited more than once).
And so you live and love,
knowing that you can’t resume -
ever in your life again -
a coupling so completely gratifying.
Your passion was consumed in
your consuming of this goddess!
I take from men again . . .again. . .
and then again.
But the nourishment that I require
always must be fresh,
and that is what
eternally
sustains me.
For Deb's Contest: category Unreal
As butterflies eagerly flutter into view
Our senses unfurl with alluring sights
Engaging while imparting those ornate designs
Under skies azure, they entice, delight
Igniting then occupying thoughts upbeat
then all senses erupt with invitations that ordain spring's ultimate, bright allure
Yet every day invokes thoughts of sweet,
unique, yet amazing things
Enriching then initiating thoughts oh so upbeat
Like aerial dancers entreating with invitations that offer hope
Until they are joined eventually by insect throngs
of many unbelievable colors
As butterflies entice with invigorating dances
outstanding movements under sun's assuring glow
Enraptured by intimate tunes of warblers
upholding melodious appealing flow
Every butterfly imparts beauty
Only monarchs ultimately rule, adorable royalty
Enjoy the inherent beauty of the universe
When I smiled at you,
I worshiped you,
You responded with the same,
Because you knew…
Silently, I loved you softly,
But! I didn’t seize you once,
Love bounced reversely,
Tears shouted, entreating you.
Heart appealed to bear its beats,
Expected to reach thy spirit,
Guessed! Couldn’t draw to thy eyes,
Got you once, you left me once.
Trapped in spider-webs around,
Tried to drip out each emotion,
I felt for you.
Why was it too late?
Swear! I urged to god:
Was It right to act?
Brain and heart worked oppositely,
Unable to conclude it all
The one I admired was a fake.
Guts crushed into millions,
I consoled myself:
Someday, your essence will come.
I don’t wait for thy sign now,
To dig up thy sensations everyday
Get away from my mirror.
Let the doors of heart be closed!!!
I cried today.
Not because I missed you,
But I realized:
I am going to be alright without you…
A sweet heartbreaking poem:
Dedicated to whom who lost their world in love…
But don’t ever be disheartened because world is too vast.
By: Shrishty Shrivastava
“X” std
Heated kisses,
fevered touch upon my waking.
Heated kisses,
entreating a sweet hypnosis.
Sultry promises you're making,
deep of your lips I am drinking.
Heated kisses.
Paula Swanson
For the contest Rondelet
Sponsored by Dr. Ram
Form: Rondolet
Placement: 6th
hope
eager, perspective
promising, prospecting, wishing
desire, confidence, communion, worship
lauding, entreating, offering
hymnal, devotional
prayer
Date written: 01/10/2023
This is a very special moment in time
As in the companionable solitude I contemplate whimsical things,
Surrounded by the forest's brilliant shades of lime
And the delicate violas nodding to me from the fairy rings,
Clad in soft shades of every color of the rainbow,
So pretty they could nearly be the fairies themselves,
Dancing in time to the breezes that blow
And sporting with the fun-loving elves.
In the near distance flows a waterfall,
Laughing at the silliness of how my thoughts wander.
Shining with its droplets, songbirds cheerily call
As they weave through the cool mists surrounding the cascade of thunder.
The distant music of the forest beckons to me,
Inviting me into its intricate symphony,
Intriguing me with its intimate mystery,
Entreating me with its limitless fantasy.
Written June 1, 2014
Wrote this before I got my current computer
I like this one. ;)
I hate my computer.
It's like a human being.
It's so full of junk and crap,
There's just no use entreating,
The thing to go faster,
Or function at all;
For it skips back and misprints,
And freezes and stalls.
I need a new one;
One no one else uses,
So it won't get filled up,
With stuff that confuses,
It's poor little micro chips,
Giggas and bites,
And it gets constipated,
With too many sites.
Perhaps come the summer,
Or Christmas, by chance,
I'll get a new one,
To make my heart dance.
For now I must struggle,
And fight with this thing.
Just the thought of it makes me,
Want to throw it and scream,
Get out of my life,
You damned machine.
'Fore I lose my religion,
And murder my screen.