Best Euphonious Poems
Your face
is a love song
of exquisite and matchless appeal
Your eyes
a duet of violin and cello
sonorous, deep
Your hair
an orchestra of euphonious instruments
playing in cohesive harmony
Your smile
a fantasia
of unearthly delight
Your teeth
a legato line of 32nd notes
in a concerto played to perfection
Your hands
a conductor’s baton
emoting wordlessly
Your voice
a rhapsody
of supernal joy
Your heart
a sumptuous lyric
a poetic paragon
Your soul
a sacred oratorio
set apart and holy
You are a sinuous melody
I can’t get out of my head
…nor will I ever wish to
Written 1 Mar 2020
Each element of who she is, is scattered on the grass,
with the scent of earth, the drop of rain,
where dew reflects a sky of blue.
Her senses are illuminated to harmonize within,
with a howling wolf, a roaring bear, the song of evening wind
She walks within a dreamlike world, which cannot be defined.
This puzzle we have come to know has no border, nor an end.
When life begins, a tiny seed, is strewn, tossed from the vine,
and picks up speed on feathered wing and touches the divine.
She is daughter of the autumn, and mother of the spring.
Her euphonious legend, an extraordinary thing.
It passes through the blossomed branch of all the sprouted trees.
She is young at heart, and old with drought,
she is strong, and bold, without a doubt, is stalwart through the night.
Standing proud against the darkness, and the sins of those who mar,
her spirit is unbroken, by the scars of bitter blight.
She honors creatures with respect, where unison is found,
with all things wild, whether large or small, ...for every life is gold.
Her songs are as a journey, and frolic in the breeze.
There is prowess and a valor in her lavished synchronies.
Her flute will share her story, in the sound of lonely larks,
of loss, rebirth, of drifting sands, and sweet hours after dark
For yesterday creates today, with a promise for tomorrow.
When songs are played, it can bring us hope, in the laughter of the birds.
Each whisper of a clearer sky, will gently cleanse the smoke,
and buffalo will graze again, the tall green grass will wave again.
The golden sun will rise again, to warm her every word
____________________________________________________________________
10/22/14 Inspired by Contest sponsored By Debbie Guzzi
Resubmitted for Skat's Contest "Premiere Number 7"
My mind is a puzzle of cryptic metaphors.
whilst searching for my sanity,
I've become my own worst enemy.
In this cauldron of despair,
time is like sand in my hand -
an oxymoron poetic
paradox of cruel compassion.
Sadistic green eyes bring my demise,
as my sighs are captured by the wind,
slowly morphed into madness and travesty.
I sit alone on the throne of midnight illusions,
cursed by dark imaginations
lingering like mouldy air,
as vivid flashing images
engrave inkstained imprints.
Dripping lament from a
palette of black and white,
colouring in the emptiness of my sensitive soul.
In echoing whispers of weeping violins,
whimsical vibratos from wooden wind-chimes,
steadily orchestrate instrumental sonatas,
ringing through my strained metallic heart,
whilst I try to strum strangled strings,
harmonizing an inconsistent symphony of a tragedy.
Fate has me stranded within a monotonous loop of uncertainties,
for when twilight’s last breath piercingly eclipsed over
lyrical edges of my insomniac shadow,
it awoke restless beasts of nocturnal nights -
in nightmares I wondered does no one hear my screams?
i can see dazzling dusts of black diamonds,
drizzle manuscripts of maniac irony
translating dialects hidden behind unshed tears
that gleam like shooting stars,
as i sing mystical moonbeams,
sewn with silver sequins of euphonious memories on refrain,
chorused from nameless tunes of timeless tomorrows,
as the magic of the maestro,
residing in the highest bridge of sanguine skies,
guides these electric fears, trapped between
synchronized layers of my unsettled skin.
I'm tired from intangible tears in the mirror,
slowly sinking me in swirls of sorrow,
like a bruised creature
seeking shelter in a silk cocoon,
so this aurora's smile is no longer a masquerade.
I hunger for rays of sunlight to paint my skin
in a plethora of pastels,
so this golden bronze queen,
can once again glitter
in a crown of illuminating heartbeats.
If I could play the violin
I'd write a melody
euphonious to draw you in
and play my rhapsody
to bring a smile to your dear face
and calm the storm within
if I could play the violin
If I could play the saxophone
with timbre silvery
I'd paint a poem of pure tone
to laud your alchemy
for you turn iron into gold
and granite to gemstone
if I could play the saxophone
If I could coax an oboe's tone
a dulcet sound divine
to craft a raft for you to own -
a musical lifeline
when waves have knocked you off your course
when winter winds have blown
I'd play a soothing oboe tone
If I could sing a heaven-sent
anthem or hymn profound
I wouldn't need an instrument
when you feel nearly drowned
I'd whisper arias of hope
my mouthpiece, bow, and strings
are prayers for God to heal your wings
and soar beside as heaven sings.
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.
Trudging under frozen starlit skies
Against stiff Winters bitter blowes...
When ambling up past frosted trees
From the wooded valley down below.
As stepping into a clearing glade,
Surround ragged drifts of thinning snow,
Once Summers haze - long since forbade,
Now pale Moon beams all aglow.
For within this realm of Twilight,
Perched high up in a bush,
Snugly within his feathered form
Roosts a warbled Darkling Thrush.
Stirred from his ruffled thoughts...
Dulcet voice lifts upon still night:
With euphonious notes so sweetly sung -
Poured forth in harmonious delight!
Oh tawny Throstle, nemesis of
Nightingales,
Did Heavens Choirs ever sound so sweet?
Your scrawny throat of melodious rails -
That kept my lover from her feet!
Would you cover me in hydrangeas of healing,
when cold is the heavy air I breathe,
alone without you, beside me?
O’ magnolia-chime, melodiously ricocheting~
above silent fields of Swarovski orchids,
this lunar-glazed love
remains my euphonious elixir,
and your lips, the petals I graze in euphoric motion,
when orange sherbet streaks of the evening sun~
descend upon glistening ripples of diamond dust,
your chamomile flames of aquamarine love,
keep rising in hypnotic hues of hibiscus red,
for your love is like a fire~
your song, like the scorching rivers,
ferrying lyrical lanterns adorned with clear quartz crystals.
Within your amethyst arms, I’ve found a melody,
turning my needs into alluring aurora fireworks,
as your love is like a fire,
screaming my name in tantalizing tunes,
while I yearn for you to come devour me whole,
never letting the breeze steal our saffron symphonies,
here I’m slipping away,
letting music of my heart to take control.
So allow me to gently trace your thorny edges~
I’m addicted to your enthralling enchantments,
chaining my sighs to your eyes, that shine like oceanic sapphires,
there, you sketch my skies with poetic phrases,
igniting vibrating sparks across the horizon,
for your love is like a fire,
it delights me with daffodil desires, taking me higher.
But what must I do,
when the colors of sunrise fade,
leaving me weaving ballads of bruised blues.
I ponder, would you feel the heat of this cosmic longing,
how in darkness, I need your silken serenades?
Remember, ten thousand moons from now,
I’ll still need you to thrill my will~
to fill this canvas with peacock pigments,
for your love is like a fire..
I’m lost in a sea of wilted willows,
but you’ll be the star that never dies,
forever sprinkling citrine threads of magic,
like an alchemist, orchestrating soothing sonatas,
pulling me back to the lavender light,
aware of how I’ve tried in stillness,
to harmonize the rhythm of this roseate rhapsody..
So allow me to gently trace your thorny edges~
I’m addicted to your enthralling enchantments,
chaining my sighs to your eyes,
that shine like oceanic sapphires.
I want to swim in the golden rivers
of your heavenly haven,
wading through every swirl and twirl flowing in splendiferous streams.
Taste of your warmth courses down ruffles within my ribs,
pulsating your name in assonant motions.
In your moonlit eyes I’ve found the lost poem,
missing from my once hollow heart.
You are the metaphorical master,
with a plethora of poetic keys,
deciphering hieroglyphics syllables,
ceaselessly obscuring vehement vanity,
endured through violent torrents of torment.
In your arms I found a euphonious sanctuary,
calming stormy edges from a malignant abyss,
there I saw grey on silvery nights,
until you breathed poetry into my fingertips.
Words began to bloom amongst
deep ruby wine dahlias,
where seasons never wilt internal imagination.
I still remember the night we embraced a new year,
as fireworks lit up the highest mountains between us.
Revealing incandescent morning stars,
with your infectious smile,
I knew then, you were the acrylic home
I was sketching on sunflower panoramas.
In your voice I've already seen spring,
sowing seeds of hibiscus promises,
hydrating delicate dreams—
drifting with withering ferns and flowers,
imprinted from roots of fate,
ascending mauve memories to cloud nine,
where clipped feathers attain nirvana,
to love until the sun burns into ashes.
Music is an undying
art of soul ~
an abstract eden, where,
euphonious unicorns
glide in strawberry sonatas,
amplifying rhapsody in
ballads of flight,
when fuchsia feathers
tease those
jingling breezes,
infusing breaths
in every lifeless aroma;
where I can soar
beyond the
brushstrokes
of symphonies that
planktons sing to me,
in the requiems of
forsaken pearls,
crooning with
silenced shimmers
beneath wavy blues.
Maybe,
I'm a songwriter
without words,
and my electric fingers
trace the tunes
of serene strings,
when guitars weave
a sonorous guilt
midst ruby runes
of regrets.
I wish to keep
swinging in a
cosmic cadence,
where celestial notes
choreograph
themselves in the
moonwalking
mellifluence of
lunar legacies.
I gossip with
neon nightingales,
laced with neutrinos
and compel them
to chant those
healing incantations
of love and glory,
like the forlorn
princess - Rapunzel,
desiring to feel
the glow of
familiar lanterns,
winged with
hazy syncs of
unsung yesteryears.
I wonder if,
I'm not meant
to compose
crystal canticles
in a Disney duet,
for, I believe,
I'm a soul searcher
in the flesh of
a soloist, concocting
an elixir of my
existence through
cinnamon anthems
of mystical
moonrises, as
they softly unfold,
a million
unheard tempos,
within tranquil
memoirs.
I'm the 'maiden of music'
resting as a floret on
every sepal,
yearning to become
a unique acapella
of nature,
where empathy
has an ethereal
dialect of
nurturing spirits
and tinkles
of magical waterfalls
whisper in
gentle lachrymose lulls
of our ambrosial Mother.
When the harmony
of my voice,
kisses those
ivory keys of
the heart-shaped
piano, they
echo a tipsy secret
in my sunset skin,
making me
believe ~
"I'm everywhere
in the essence,
yet nowhere
to be found...",
like the sweet
scents of
hummingbirds,
smiling behind
that first dusky star.
"In each husky hallelujah
of ribboned halts and replays,
life is a song ~
where every lyric,
phrases an ember of end,
and when passionate heartbeats
shall knit sombre medleys,
I will hum in the last 'chef-d'oeuvre'... "
O beloved Sun, that gently warms my soul,
with soft strings of saffron and golden shine,
I write this poem with symphonic stardust,
when euphonious memories soar above
clusters of sapphire butterflies,
when rainbows reflect a glow of nostalgia.
Allow the inked verses within
these maternal veins~
remind you to close your sleepless eyes,
and listen to your evergreen heart.
Fear not the unknown that veils your vibrancy;
there’s a song that lingers amidst tuneless skies,
with every note inscribed with your dulcet name,
for I pray for you in sanguine silence…
You will always be the lyrical light
guiding me to the reveries of redolent lilies.
You are the poetic reason,
I breathe phrases of hope,
when the orchid moon melts into orchards of nothingness…
Love always and evermore,
mother….
My existence seems like a timeless tragedy,
ticking away in the harmony of misophonia and me.
I've been reluctantly raised in the arms of trauma,
hiding from the darkness looking over my shoulder.
I place a metaphorical knife under my pillow,
as I fear the biggest bully in my mind's playground.
Sound is like a sadistic samurai slashing at my sanity,
as innocent echoes become the euphonious chant of despondency.
An eldritch echo of anguish triggering anxiety,
a constant conflict between the shadows and the soul,
narrating a sorrowful story in each tear I shed,
but I'm shouting into the void of ignorance,
no one understands why I've bled.
Each breath is like a riddle,
each munch and crunch tasting like monotonous moments of meaningless screeching,
erupting into an earthquake of emotions.
Nobody understands the chaos from within,
thinking I'm a little bit crazy.
I search for a sanctuary where peace meets me at sunrise,
where screams of a sonorous mind are not shattered in fragments of estrangement,
portrayed through the plentiful imagery of pain.
I yearn to live a life mocking butterflies,
to flutter in the flakes of eternal slumber.
begging to lose the blessings of perception,
as all I hear is evil voices chattering from within.
Silence is a poison I'm willing to take,
yet I'm cursed by misophonian lullabies.
I wish to remain isolated within mental muteness,
as I know you will live forever in me.
"over the waters blue the night winds sigh, the breakers roar ... Lord Byron
My love, we'll meet at eight as we agreed,
A storm was near, the lighthouse sent its flash.
Would be our lovely tryst that end of day
To mark the start of our great happy love.
By then we hoped would be a night so bright,
The blushing, crimson moon was then so high.
The blue rough seas upon the breaking rocks
And sing to us a euphonious tune.
Together we will wait for stars to rise,
Where mesmerizing fireflies dance in tune,
This may be our last real chance to love
To celebrate midsummer's fun and joy,
In love, we'll hug and kiss and be like one.
Yet you kept not our sweet love rendezvous.
In vain I waited, life began to change.
The wind grew slow in its intensity,
Clouds gathered ominously o'er the place.
The thunder rumbled; lightning was above
Flew here and there above the angry seas.
My love was nowhere in my heart, for now
The storms were raging on the rolling sea
And on the ocean of regret. All's lost!
But then, a crack in clouds appears anew
And she appears all drenched but full of joy.
The night winds blow serene with sighs of warmth.
Our hearts entwine with love and bliss romance,
We will be married soon, our love so true.
Placed 1st
Wan is the hiemal world outdoors,
The biting breeze blows bitter,
like a blizzard building in momentum,
Cold creeps in through the closed windows,
But his harmonic heart is happy and warm,
touched by tantalizing tingles of tender tunes.
~ silent violins play violet symphonies ~
The mystery of mauve melodies mesmerise his mind,
as he is lost within his mellifluous macrocosm;
Intoxicated with invigorating inspirations,
he experiences euphonious euphoria,
Forgetting the frost and frozen fingertips,
he hums sweet sonatas in the making.
~ soothing arias arouse amethyst emotions ~
A string of soft heliotrope strains
brush away the brumal brutality,
And even as the notes swell, they quell the chill,
The warbling waves wind up in a waltz,
resonating sizzling rhythms all around the room;
Content with cantatas serenading magenta Maestoso.
~ lilac lyrics light up lavender legacies ~
“Grief is like the ocean. The waves ebb and flow. Sometimes the water is calm. Other times it's turbulent. In order to survive, I had to learn to swim. In moments when I struggled with massive waves of grief, I rode it out.”
Dana Arcuri
When the pearl moon is sinking
and the sea dreams in silence,
when the skies reflect
the sunrise within sighs,
I close my eyes and unlock
my grieving heart.
There, your sincere smile glows
like a string of golden pearls,
and your song, an echoing melody,
while jasmine rain croons
into the mourning mists.
And I whisper to the stars:
show me what it's like in heaven,
where angels and fairies
sway to your vanilla laughter,
for I am still healing from
the shadows of your demise.
I remember,
I was a teenage tempest
dressed in crusts of raven,
but you saw
unicorns and butterflies
soaring above
whirling waves of angst.
and wove my darkness
with acrylic glitter.
You were the antidote
to my bleeding ink.
you were the sakura spring
among my tattered twigs,
you watched me laugh
into the gothic duskiness.
Somehow seeking fireflies
within my summer maze,
did illuminate your weathered time,
like rainbow roses,
engrossed in emerald empathy.
You always knew the
right phrase to rhyme,
subtle syllables to
write every wrong.
You were my comfort
on lonely days.
The uncle, I cherish,
so young and charismatic…
Orchids in your
orchard still sprout~
flaunting their colors
in your mauve memory,
and your seraphic aura lingers
as the magnetic essence
of eternal warmth.
Now I am draped in
mementos and euphonious wind-chimes,
emanating the fragrance
of evergreen grass and soulful sunflowers.
Someday, I will find my way
to your empyrean home,
where you reside in poetry and affection…
“Love, is a prompt, that utterly inspires the sleepless stars above grieving grass,
so let the wind and waves be the music to the heart that longs in euphonious silence.” ~ By the Poet
The quartz moon has seen your silent scribbles,
and how I'm utterly drenched in teal~
seas of stardust, where silhouette
of sky floats across turquoise
torrents of temptations,
while like the sun I
rise to embrace
magnolia
memoirs.
For
hope
still flies
on paper-
wings of a gold
horse carousel, as~
your voice remains my muse
that ignites flickering flames
growing within my love-struck art,
yet I question sleepless stars in your
eyes, what is life without skies sprinkling sage~
upon restless reflections strolling through
carmine tunnels of my hibiscus
heart, hypnotized and lost within
the mellifluous rhythm that
echoes from rose-wood flutes
of forever played
with sapphire tuned
serenades
from pearl
bliss.
So
let me
sing verses
woven with deep
indigo ink to
lure those amethyst-stringed
butterflies fluttering dreams,
above your midnight meadows sketched
in hues of honey-glazed emeralds~
mirroring sealed lips with enthralling wreaths.