Best Fantasized Poems
Love's tend'rest touch, your gentle words reveal
Caress my soul. sweet poet, with your verse
Write dulcet lullabies which make me feel
Secure, like infants held at breast to nurse
Turn tears of sadness into peaceful streams
Make whispered breezes whisk my strife away
Put passion in my fantasized daydreams
Paint troubles in to flowery bouquets
And even though I know they're not for me
I steal your soothing love just like a thief
This load I carry lightens suddenly
Because my broken heart has found relief
Your words are like a song, please sing to me
Sweet poet, how I love your poetry
an original poem by Daniel Turner
He made me ponder my greatest fear
not ghosts nor goblins grinning ear to ear
The one that I really fear most
is the one peering back from the mirror
Is he real or will he just disappear
Will anyone remember he was ever here
That person I present
the one white washed and sanitized
representing the best of me
So I become a dim copy rationalized
Manicured, self fantasized
Will my true self ever be realized
Or am I destined to be compartmentalized
packaged pretty, thoughts pasteurized
Does anyone else worry
what others might discover
A mother wife sister or brother
The dark thoughts that make us shudder
that choke the brain and threaten to smother
If they could see inside would they run for cover
So we protect them and ourselves
keep bits hidden away on shelves
Screaming for release but afraid
what might happen if someone tells
We ain't always pretty, stagnant water smells
Instead bang the gong and ring the bells
If it's inside release it with yells
What will happen if we face our thoughts
Is it really us maybe it's not
Are we just scared boys and girls tied in knots
Trying to push it all down deeper
that stuff we've been taught
Take aim, release those expectations
another life can't be bought
Make the best of the one you've got!
For "What you Fear Most" contest.
I was newly thirteen when the seventies took me underwing,
then married and grown when they creased inside time’s fold.
I was not attracted to those scholastic or athletic,
but to those lacking labels and considered rebels.
Moving yearly filled my army-brat life with sad good-byes
that swerved my teenage years thru countless, deep cries.
When the decade first began, I had paper and pen in hand
to secretly write the poetry holding my heart slams.
At thirteen, poems first bubbled in me to be pen-freed.
I still have most as lost-girl written within my teen season.
In the seventies I fell in love with love, astrology, spirituality,
Kahlil Gibran, Thoreau, individuality as resonated in me
from Ann Rand’s, “The Fountainhead”, and lyrics on which I fed.
The Who wrote song lines I fantasized were mine, all mine,
Elton John, Crosby, Stills and Nash sang words for my thrills,
as did Neil Young, Carole King, CCR, The Eagles, and Beatles.
Rock n Roll beats and crying guitars inebriated my limits,
such music moved me in defiance of compliance to physics.
Thru rock’s depths and denim, I was a seventies thoroughbred
who has poetically wept since first the decade's innocence bled.
She and the handsome gentleman finalized the contract, and he gently placed
the antique pearl necklace into the palm of her tiny hand. As he walked away,
she fantasized about making love with him, for he possessed both charm and
exceptional good looks; he certainly was enchanting...thick, black wavy hair,grey-
green eyes...tall...muscular ~ oh, those muscles...all over his tanned body...head
to toe.
But she wondered about that limp as he walked away, depending on a heavy
metal
staff
for
balance...
after all, an eternity of beauty and power in exchange for
one
pathetic
soul.
The evening of the deed was a frigid six degrees, and there was a dead smell of
the sun. She stayed late after work, waiting anxiously until everyone had gone.
Finally, he was alone in his office, so she placed the pearl necklace around her
fragile neck and unbuttoned her red, silk blouse so to reveal her sexy red
camisole.
She entered the office, and gently leaned over him from behind; he was aroused
by the scent of her "Red Door" cologne...his favorite, and his senses were even
more heightened as he turned around and observed her erect breasts speaking
in a language only he understood. With his large hands, he slowly explored her
thighs, making his way up her black skirt.
"You have beautiful legs."
"You think so, huh?"
They kissed, and the necklace brushed his chest; he didn't feel well, at all. He
was hot...so hot, and his body began its metamorphosis, retaining a grayish
tinge....then blackish...
He
burst
into
flames;
then, disappeared along with all omens of the deed.
She walked over to the black wrought iron mirror and smiled; her wrinkles were
gone...vanished...just as promised; she was ten years younger.
The windows began sweating, and the handsome stranger appeared.
"I have one more assignment for you."
"But we made a deal, one soul."
She began to feel peculiar, and as she viewed herself in the black mirror, she
began aging...ten years...twenty...thirty...she pulled out a large clump of thin, white
hair.
The room darkened from his moonly mind.
"My dear, the other soul...is yours."
She stood in front of the mirror, not liking what she sees
He watched from behind the door, seeing what he likes
She turned from side to side; hoping different angles would help her shape
He watched with excited eyes; each new angle shaping his hope
She rubbed lotion all over her body, to keep her young and smooth
His jeans were getting tighter, just begging to be removed
She touched the parts about which he fantasized, slowly closing her eyes
He had to let his growing manhood out, now grown to twice its size
She knew he was there
He knew that she knew
He really didn’t care
She watched as he grew
She made sure that he could see her, though she did not let him in
From the reflection in the mirror she saw him watching her watching him
He wished her hands were his and that his hands were hers
She applied more of the lotion letting out a pleasurable purr
They climaxed apart together; never acknowledging the other one
He went to the guest room shower, having finished what she begun
She stood in front of the mirror, thinking; perhaps it’s not so bad
As long as it does that to him, I guess I can still be glad
1. Remember that first day we met?
I hadn’t hardly wakened yet
When I walked in the church’s wooden door.
Then I saw you beside a pew;
I hardly knew what I should do
So I stood firmly rooted to the floor,
(Chorus)
Because I saw the crosses in your eyes,
Reflecting in their depths that seemed to look through me.
And ever since that moment of surprise
You’ve meant everything to me.
2. A year flew by on fleeting wings,
In that same church exchanged our rings;
Tho’ I can’t recall a single word I said,
Or what I wore, or what I did.
All I recall is two eyelids,
And two eyes that I was looking at instead,
(Chorus)
Because I saw the crosses in your eyes,
Reflecting in that bluish-green I love so much;
And while I stared, and thought, and fantasized,
I realized our lips had touched.
3. When two more years had flown on by,
Remember when you knelt to cry
In the graveyard just down the grassy hill?
I led a brief and panicked search
Until I found you by the church;
There I stopped, and the whole world became still,
(Chorus)
Because I saw the crosses in your eyes;
The smallest one a chiseled cross so cold and grey.
I’d carved it for our daughter in the skies,
Who we’d only had a day.
4. The time has really ticked away,
That all seems just like yesterday;
Now I lie on a bed and will not rise.
But, Dearest, I’ll be doing fine
So long as I a window find
That will look to the churchyard from the skies,
(Chorus)
Because I’ll see the crosses in your eyes,
Reflected in the tears you’ll shed beside my grave.
And Sweetheart, just like I’ve done all our lives,
I will whisper, “Please be brave.”
5. And when you meet me there someday,
If there’s a cross where angels pray,
I will reach for your hand and take you there;
And as we kneel and fold our hands
I hope our Father understands
Why our eyes are wide open for the prayer—
(Chorus)
Because I’ll see the crosses in your eyes,
Reflecting from the pretty girl I love so much.
And all I hope is that I will realize
When our silent lips have touched…
Because I’ll see the crosses in your eyes,
Reflected from the pretty girl I love so much.
The self-obsessive free will seemingly dormant,
envelopes the mind with an unreal veil transient,
obscures the ordained pathway God paves,
that l need to travel for it’s designed at His will.
The unseen glow of the omnipresent light
floods my possessed essence, but I don’t discern,
for I formulate life’s tenets encompassing the ego
in the ignorant realm of fantasized self-deception.
Unshackled out of the dark abyss of despair, I take
an inward journey through layers of consciousness,
perceive in the soul the radiance of divine beacon,
illumining the corridor leading to the abode of bliss.
After the ill-conceived venture the errant mind
finds the gloomy path of introspection lightened,
the secret door of the inner sanctum opens,
where suffused with divine light the lotus blooms.
When the soul shines in spiritual glow in inner space
as the unfurled petals of the consciousness flower,
in my self-searching odyssey at the edge of eternity
I perceive the grace of God within the sacred bud.
__________________
August 26, 2022
Contest : Where Is God Hiding
Sponsored by : Unseeking Seeker
Oh how I fantasized that his large
dark eyes would look my way.
Seated behind him in sixth grade
I memorized the back of his head
his dark hair, his neck, his ears.
I watched him play ball with my
infatuated smiles that went unnoticed.
Honey glazed Italian skin in contrast
with a tight white tee shirt led
to romantic dreams and schemes
for him to look and notice me.
One time I took a pencil from his desk
I saw him biting on, he didn’t see.
I loaned him one of mine, he kept.
My captured heart drowned in ecstasy!
2-14-19
(Not for the contest) Happy Valentine's Day Everyone!
I'm remembering our tender moments; how sweet was love
that filled pages of poetry you will never read, where I wrote of
my affection and things I no longer have the chance to say.
Words of passion, anger, and dreams that were swept away.
Melodies of memories I hold, still flow within my broken heart.
I try to console myself with writing you since we've drifted apart,
by recalling your voice as it gently whispered close to my ear.
Utterances that I'll not ever forget because I hold them dear.
Had I only imagined or fantasized that you loved me, too?
No, I knew your heart loved mine before we both vowed, "I do."
I remember the day you took my hand and knelt upon one knee.
"Yes!" I cried, and I saw the desire in your eyes for want of me.
I cannot chase those reveries away. Ones of your lilting laughter,
thinking we'd share that tethered treasure of love forever after.
Love; the greatest of all glorious gifts to each other we could offer,
more priceless than precious gems or coins that would fill a coffer.
You once asked me to write a pensive poem about a fallen star ~
A foreshadowing as I think back now, pondering where you are.
I wonder if you still think of me with the same thoughts I remember
or have you forgotten me as if there's not a spark left in that ember?
Once it burned brightly. I don't want to believe that could be true
for my heart still beats with longing and the yearning want of you.
I will close this letter in these wistful words, "With love, always."
Perhaps not the sentiment that I should fondly offer you these days.
Forgive the stains that have blotched the ink. They're from my tears.
I haven't managed to staunch their flow, even after all these years.
I addressed the envelope to our home, but it matters not one whit
that neither of us still live there. I know it's time that I get over it
but this letter will join the others I keep hidden inside a desk drawer.
Bound with crimson ribbon, written for a love I can no longer implore.
lilac lullabies
black and yellow butterflies
cotton candy blue skies
field and house work once idealized
perfect dreams
imperfectly fantasized
tangled with filthy truths and honorable lies
every night they listen and console
uplifting the spirits of one another
chanting we will not let them see our cries
noise silences the chastised
perseverance overcomes the spark in their eyes
this too shall pass, in the end a better tomorrow lies
fully aware the sun will continue to rise
hope kept them focused and willing to strive
mentally trapped yet conscious of the
planned infiltrated compromise
oppressors remain confused of their laughter
it was incomprehensible and quite taken by surprise
under the impression everything had been stripped from them
the ancestors were found uplifted every morning
still walking about lilacs singing lullabies
smiling at the sight of black and yellow butterflies
dancing under cotton candy blue skies
He was the man I’d fantasized about,
Drawn images of across my mind,
Colored with hues of blue and red,
Whispered tenderness across his heart.
He was the man I’d thought of so often,
Felt touching my skin with his gaze,
Caressing my thoughts with inspirations,
Creating soft sensations in my breast.
He was the man I’d yearned to be with,
Filling my mind with sweetest compassion,
Reassuring me of all that is kind and gentle,
Erasing the worries that haunted my plans.
He was the man I’d dreamed of for years,
The flicker of light that burned my attention,
A memory penning hope through my senses,
Tender sentiments embracing me lovingly.
He was the man I’d prayed to know better,
A precious idea that would pierce through anger,
Crafting warmth and affection with each moment,
Compelling my soul to find solace within his hold.
He was the man I’d ached to spend my time with,
The one who made me hunger for lingering kisses,
Reassuring my very core that I was being blessed,
Delighting and fascinating, enthralling me to love.
He was the man I’d always loved from my depths,
The man who made me feel loved beyond my cares,
With him, I knew that there was better to be felt,
Miracles happen when love like this is a reality!
He is the man I’d give up my selfish desires for,
The one who makes me dream and believe and care,
The one who fills my life with answered prayers,
The one I will love until the end of this life down here!
I’m thanking God for this man who holds my heart and hand
In the Fragility of Dreams Poetry Contest by Silent One (May 17, 2020
I was a lttle girl, so wistfully in thought back then.
Wearing a silk kimona, dreams of a sivered, shiny pen.
A special place in my heart, then, suddenly came to be,
Bright pink, soft turquoised robe, quite heavenly.
It was this little girl’s gifted.yummy yet holy solitude,
The blue moon and stars, gave her freedom and latitude.
I had no dreams to grow to be just like everyone on the
planet.
Choosing to be my own shooting star, not run by rules
made of granite!
I fantasized a room of bright, pink floating lotuses about me.
And that personal space, so long ago, lifted me, so I fly freely,
sans approving commentary.
Words do not impress me, but affectionate and soulful, warm
people do.
They are the ones encouraging me to live my life as a moonburst
of satisfying breakthroughs.
4/16/2024
Summer nights in Centerville, sleeping on the top bunk bed;
A transistor radio playing low, lying right there near my head.
The Big Red Machine was in their prime; those boys could sure play ball;
I fell asleep every night listening to the play-by-play of Joe Nuxhall.
I entered my life of puberty with Charlie Hustle running to first;
Davey Concepcion turning two and Joe Morgan with a speedy burst.
Johnny Bench throwing out would be stealers, Pedro Borbon with a bending curve;
All happening on the summer of my first kiss – once I finally worked up the nerve.
With Tommy sleeping in the bed below – nary a care in the world,
George Foster launched an enormous shot while I tried to figure out the girls.
Jack Billingham was striking them out – an apt metaphor for my chances,
As I fantasized about dating girls while two bases Ken Griffey advances.
Tony Perez was still strapping them on; Don Gullet piled up some wins;
Cesar Geronimo owned center field while my hormones multiplied within.
Coming of age in Centerville, back in nineteen seventy-four,
Meant listening to the Cincinnati Reds while thinking about the girl next door.
When I was young, I fantasized of the girl I’d like to find:
A certain look, a sense of style, enlightened education,
Alluring eyes, a charming smile, and some sophistication.
But over time I realized she was only in my mind.
Lonely years passed, I compromised, and left my dream behind.
Met some with looks, others with style—even sophistication.
But I never could find, through error and trial, just the right combination.
Just existing, I felt demoralized, in a sorry state of mind.
One day by chance, I met this girl…sort of what I had in mind.
The way she looked, I realized, just fit my illustration—
As if the dream I’d idolized was brought into creation.
What could I say, to meet the girl that I’d always hoped to find?
Pardon the clichés, but I have to say
“Where have you been all my life?”
I know we’ve just met, and you don’t know me yet,
But what are you doing the rest of your life?
She rolled her eyes, but then she smiled, as she seemed to see the light.
We talked a while, then talked some more; got her address and her phone.
Since then I’ve seen her a whole lot more. I no longer felt alone.
When I proposed, she said with a smile “I think I’ve found my ‘Mister Right’ .
Pardon the clichés, but I have to say
“Where have you been all my life?”
I know we’ve just met, and you don’t know me yet,
But what are you doing the rest of your life?
Dare I now close my eyes and visualize
what kind of childhood memories you hide
inside a mind that churns out a surprise;
Each write, the genius cannot be denied.
As I read each and every poem I try
to understand the heart behind each word.
The lines which may have led someone to sigh
have left this ardent reader pleased and stirred.
Dare I disclose that I have fantasized,
with simple lines I hoped to tributize?
Kim Patrice Nunez
18 August 2015