Best Expression Poems
She: I have no one to shower love upon me.
He: "I" love you
She: You are a busy man. You don't have time for anything. You neither wish me on my birthday nor text me ever. You never speak sugary sweet words to me.
He: I "LOVE" you
She: I have neither family nor friends, I possess neither wealth nor any riches, I have no education nor do I have any knowledge of the world.
He: I love "YOU"
Her eyes melted and his heart filled with joy.
A melancholy of poets
A suffering of poets
A torment of poets
A provoking thought of poets
An expression of poets
An inspiration of poets
A rhyme of poets
A verse of poets
A stanza of poets
An anthology of poets
A poem of poets
We are all poets
however some of us
go to the trouble
of writing it down
the world craves
more artists
creative souls
sensitive antennas
conceptual skills
performing arts
artisans of beauty
painters
crafters
poets
musicians
dancers
the world craves
more expression
more love
more magic
your life is your gift
back to the universe
be the poem
that moves the world
Published in my 24-page photo/anthology book ~IN THE GARDEN OF MY FANTASY~ 2023
Read on air by invitation ~ July 14, 2021 'WORDS & MUSIC'
AP: 2nd place 2021, Honorable Mention 2021
Submitted on July 13, 2021 for A BRIAN STRAND JULY 14 POETRY CONTEST sponsored by BRIAN STRAND - RANKED 1ST
Originally posted on June 20, 2019
A Burst Of Orange
By Lauren Hardman
For me,
Orange
Bright and new
Symbolizes warmth
Acceptance
And strength.
Orange blends well
With fuchsia pink.
The two colors
Match up nicely
To construct
Alluring sunsets
Along with sunrises.
Orange has
An intermediate tone
That isn’t black or white.
It allows for great contrasts
With numerous colors.
That’s a facet of orange
That I appreciate.
It’s kind of like life.
People need to be different
To be united.
The brilliant color
Makes me feel elated!
It uplifts my mood,
Molds my personality,
Puts my mind at ease.
It unfolds a creative
Sweet side of me.
That lets me be
Who I am.
I realized who I am
By doing things I love.
Singing,
Playing piano,
Drawing designs,
Examining various colors,
Crafting poems like this one.
I believe that
All colors tap into
The depths of your imagination
And provide
Great insight
Into who you are.
Why do I self-express and share, indeed?
For I am but a "dark and troubled seed" ...
And should my pen let loose upon a page
You're apt to see that INK is what I bleed
I strive to layer phrases, fresh and free
Breathtaking depth ... with ambiguity
Using words in ways that paint a scene
Not getting lost in too much imagery
I study all the greats and take to heart
The classic script and detail of their art
To blend it with a modern form, my own
A trademark style, unique and set apart
I keep my child's heart in good repair
And plunge my soul as deeply as I dare
For both those aims are critical to verse
And writing with an insight that is rare
To tell you straight, the talent isn't mine
It comes from elsewhere, I am just a vine
But blessed am I to have received the gift
And humbled to be part of grand design
Still, if I had to give you just one jewel
Imagination's STILL the grandest tool
And if I could but give you just one MORE
Incorporate in ALL ... the Golden Rule. ;-)
~ 1st Place ~ in the "Why Would Your Self-Expression Matter To Others" Poetry Contest, Line Gauthier, Judge & Sponsor.
*** COME POETRY ***
Belle Poetry! Be kind!
I am already exhausted
From long passed hours
Taking dictation from you — I am
But human and sometimes fragile,
While you often come divine.
Sister Poetry! Even as I listen
To music by composer Andre Rieu, to help
Waltz words across these pages,
I plead with you, seeking
To grip, grasp, hunt, hold, seize, and
Assign apt words to their deft places…
Be kind! Impart the sequence of syllables
Clearly to my tired mind, so they will
Play well in their penned flow,
To turn Poetry’s wish to written wine —
Felt imagery; being true in wisdom;
Creative in expression; vibrant.
With a similar kind of invitation,
Ravel takes us away in imaginings, while
Traveling the rise in his Bolero,
Captive to the mounting repetition —
Music to motion. Expression to power.
Inspirations…A ready harvest in the heart.
Desiring Poetry, send here your printed score
To sound out as easily as does a pluck of
A violin’s string to begin a concerto;
Or humming a hymn may bring peace to a room.
Speak on in dreams! My pen awaits,
Listening even when near a nod to needed sleep.
Eager Poetry, life’s “Alleluia”
First coarses through you
In the displays of wonder; in all the consequences
Of emphatic things done; and of your intuited
Knowing in progress and process with the All
Collective unconscious — from clouds to clarity
As God with first thought made
The first word.
——Dedicated to the souls who hold the address of poetry within them, with all its bliss and pain, my sisters and brothers living in perception. ———-—————————————————————————————————————
(c) sally young eslinger 10/3/22
Thanks be to God
Written: January 03, 2025
___________________________
What we love,
we’re bound to fear,
Caught in the gloom current of our making.
How else could we hear the percussion of our pulse?
It calls in whispers,
shadowed promises,
And I turn—too prompt to hide
the sting of familiarity fangs sinking deeper.
Half-dreaming through scattered zip codes,
Tied to the capricious moon’s glow,
eons waking to the same sun
Revealing scars as orbs on my skin.
Love reclaims its throne,
a sovereign of full-time,
unmasking secrets,
a labyrinthine dance.
I am
one has
to say
sudden
understanding
a conception
emerging
a
refinement
fully
realised
and
distinct
a
moment
of
song
a unifying
voice&
script
as one
revealed
to
all
to see&
hear
Color flows from the void and
hands swing, sway across a canvas;
to the music of the life;
erecting a universe.
The pulse of existence
beats out its rhythm and soul awakes
into being.
I see girls send each other cards and cake,
Condolences or hugs, the sweetest rhymes,
Given as free as breath, to share or take,
True friendship’s memories of happy times.
How much is meant or lied I cannot guess,
But when men wish for kisses, ears to hear
Our dreams and heal our grief with tenderness,
We fail in finding ways to bring us near.
I see girls send each other cards and cake,
Men don’t. The very most that men will do
Is mock or give strong words. It’s our mistake
To hope the same old ways may bring us through.
Men still believe in strength, coping alone,
Deluded that a heart is made of stone.
Poetics Poem, Red River Gorge, KY
I traipse the course of a forking, rambling stream
Barefoot from the rounded top of one small boulder
To another, the slashing strikes of cold water
Startling my every careful leap, place to place,
Landing with deep, short gasps, yet wordless
In an utter joy of intense sensation over sun-sprinkled
Spots so bright against the deep gray hollow splotches of
Drenched stone. The stream does not trickle
Along this gorge, but roars the air and throws
Its echoing roundabout the cliffs like a newborn
Learning its scream forth from being
Buried for years beneath massive storeys on up to
Greater views. But, the stream continues its carving around
The hillside. And the newly-born cries will
Find the voices of self-expression with each gasping
Leap from boulders to cliffs, climbing in a wrapabout
The gorge’s hidden, grand lowlands and rising
Of its own ineffable poetry so fully held within the birthing
Of Nature herself, all that which carries
Of language as spoken
In the heart of God.
**********. **********. **********. **********
(C) sally Young eslinger 10/9/2020
Indistinct, they circumnavigate in the raw ~
they’re thoughts unprocessed and unpolished
ethereal and feral, nothing more than impulses really
If it were up to me, I might drown in that sea of ambiguity
and forego all communication with the outside world
forever content staying confined to my private universe
In most instances I couldn’t be bothered
yet at times I’d almost want to scream to be heard
that’s when I’d want to be as loud and clear as I could be
But sometimes the words refuse to form
at times so deep they must be mined
and surface in their own time that can’t be rushed
So I write because it allows me to think at my own pace
I can capture what I feel, what I remember
I can seize it and can verbalize it
I write for different reasons
I write because most people
never ask what’s on my mind when the time’s right
or won’t wait for me to put my thoughts to words
I write because I want to say it right
I want to choose my words
not be misquoted
Mostly I write to capture time
time as a memory, time as a treasure
time as tangible, time as a toy to amuse
Mostly I write to be heard
I write so I can say I’ve done my part
I’ve said my bit and can’t be faulted for staying quiet
I write so I won’t die
without a voice, without saying my piece
without having said all I had to say
AP: 1st place 2022
Posted on September 2, 2022
THE moon slid slowly from the light
to slumber in the crepuscular shroud
An illuminated universe lies
in the silver light’s glow
The mighty golden note slumbering
in a valley of undying silence
The distant crimson light’s whisper
Causing butterflies in its wake
The song of the moon played so sweet
as the golden sun faded behind
Now hear the bitter mocking warble
of the bitter hermit’s chant
and ghosts watch me leave you further behind
As the dirt drips down bedding your heavy box
the front of your funeral dress all shadowy lined
And droning iridescent crickets throb in time
within your beatless heart
Cry, Pink White
Cry, Pink White
Cry, Pink White
Like a needle in the pinball machine
you don’t know what you got till it’s gone
If you’re the only one to hold me in your arms
Baby please don’t make me cry
Say it with me now
Cry, Pink White
Cry, Pink White
Cry, Pink White
My Cherry Blossom Heart
:: 07.27.2022 ::
I have this cloud that follows me,
I have this cloud that noone wants to see.
It's all in your head
Nothing major can be done.
So suck it up
Get on out and have some fun.
But they can't see the demons in my head -
Scratching
Clawing
Biting.
The demons want me dead.
But they don't care,
They don't want to know
What is under my skin,
They just want me to smile
And pretend tht I fit in.
Another appointment,
Another prescription,
Another bottle of pills.
Saftey pin a smile on my face
So everyone else feels comfortable
While my world slowly collapses
And I fall from grace.
But the world must go on,
Everything done so formal.
I wish I could take the bottle
And one by one eat my pink freedom
But that just wouldn't be right
- Oh no-
Heaven forbid I don't act like I'm
NORMAL!!
What good is a feeling
When it’s locked up in a drawer
When it’s tucked away and hidden
What is a feeling for
If not for validation
Of life and love and human kind
Of everything that comes our way
Though it may ache of mind
And of the feelings sweet
That warm and melt the soul
What good can come of waiting
Expression makes us whole
Live and flow with passion
Honesty is where to start
Live and grow with feelings
The two are never far apart