Best Fantasywords Poems
Hey Sexy
Yea I'm talking to you
Don't you look away
Boy if you only knew the things
I want to do
Hey Sexy
Ooo-wee you make me weak
That's why I studder and trip over my words when I speak
A flaw in you I seek
But nope there's not one I see
Hey Sexy
I dream of us making love
Under the night stars above
There's no greater thought
I just hope we don't get caught
Hey Sexy
I want to take your hand
And make you my gorgeous sexy man
I want to run away
And show you all the things
I can't find the words to say
Hey Sexy
I can't believe I'm telling you this
But it's a chance; a opportunity
I just can't miss
Hey Sexy
Live it up we aint going to live forever
In English class you said that last September
Do you remember?
Hey Sexy
It started out with just a little crush
Now I don't look at it as such
Now I take it so much more serious
One might say I'm just delirious
Hey Sexy
I've known you for such little time
But in my heart I've already labeled you as mine
Long ago, before words were known
Sound simply didn't exist
A smile was the only thing needed
Or a tear, if someone were missed
Love was then, the language of choice
A silent show of affection
Until that day when sound was invented
The heartbreaking cry of rejection
A teardrop had finally found its voice
The silence was broken in two
A broken heart had finally spoken
And the people knew not what to do
No words of comfort could pass their lips
For words were yet to be known
So the sound of heartbreak spread like cancer
For those doomed to suffer alone
Words would one day come to fruition
And comfort would finally be found
But the silence was silenced forever more
Because the invention of sound
“Oh Snowman!” sing the children-birds,
“For what reason are you astray?”
He’d put some care into his words.
Who cares what snowmen have to say?
He’d long been keeping up his trade
Of mangling words where truths apply.
But well he knows in this charade
That half the truth is not a lie.
He has no friends or next of kin,
His wisdom wasted on the trees.
His words are lost like nectar in
A world devoid of honeybees.
A bachelor to ardor’s flame
Forsaken by a tragic flaw.
The green-eyed youths know not his name,
And never gazed at snow with awe.
His history’s a fable now.
Much like the ones he’d once unveil.
But never will it die, I vow;
For I have heard his tragic tale.
moon river
teach me how to pray
teach me how to say
i love her
and give
my words two wings
to fly abroad
to heaven
and her precious ears
moon river
send to me your tide
and with these words i cry
send out
to sea
and drift, out with my pride
tears from my eyes
to reach her
on that distant shore
moon river
set my heart a sail
and guied me with the stars
to my love
and when
my time should end
let ours begin
a brand new love never to end
moon river
thank you for my song
don't let it be too long
while i sing
but please
let these two arms
find the two arms
that held me when i was alone
moon river
hear me while i pray
please grant my wish today
and give me
my hope
and heaven i longed
so very long
and i'll be ever greatful to you
Through forded streams, nostalgia seems, to be a sense of Nordic Dreams
The pathways to yesterdays, appear to retreat to ample schemes.
Broken nails and nightingales lighten up your brooks and streams.
Take a lock of broken stock to see what truly seems.
Lilt repose in lily throws, is knocking at my silken chair
Through the slits, the moonlight sits, its gaze upon my flaxen hair.
Opportunity flaunts as debutantes, in appearance gracefully debonair.
Gentle words floating from the birds, act upon me without a care
As a white dove from above, with beads of honey running wild
I withdrew to be with you, for words that are Coleridge styled.
They come in turn, to gently discern, and then gather into a pile.
In a continuum, within this kingdom, they come at us all the while.
Though they seem as in a dream, to be of pure fantasy;
if I believe, I may conceive, to have them become reality.
They may seem far as a distant star, but may be in propinquity.
Permanence in ascertainments, can be a hallmark of destiny.
They address as they coalesce, the storefront pretentiousness
in giving description, within inscription, with literary prowess.
Words convey, contained in a foray, upon the domain of impressiveness,
they are contained as they remained, as acknowledged in cohesiveness.
All the rhymes during the times, taste as sweet as butter creams.
As a scribe would inscribe, the essence of moonbeams
In our yesterday, and today, written on papyrus reams
Both fantasy and reality, within the nostalgia of Nordic Dreams.
4
there is no ending of words
is there anything that may be called
the end-word
let the words make questions
let the words give replies
let the words shout
let them battle among themselves
i can’t understand
why is there so much endeavour
to take me into that chaos
a plant of small white flower
is enough to make a garden itself
even-then
an assembly of
the rose the jasmine the tuberose is made
to increase the rule of the garden
after picking flowers from those plants
my wife puts them to the feet of the god
to worship him
she has a drinking-glass a plate
a hand-fan a throne
for her god
all are like tiny-toys
among them
the throne
is very important
till today
in many of our houses
there is a throne
but it is neither for accession of men
nor for making themselves king
i’ve already said
the throne is for our god
that means for our lying on
there may or may not be
even a broken cot
but for our family-god
to provide a throne
is a must
5
on that day
when once i had gone into the
myself-man
i saw
that the government and the opposition
both sides were gheraoing one another
in the same pace
they were reciprocally
quarrelling threatening rebuffing abusing
thus there was running
a fine piece of democracy there
it gave me enough pleasure
then i again came out
of that myself-man
in the outer-world
i saw
bypassing the stones and the hard
the roots of the trees
going deep down in the dark
in search of soft soil
and their branches are taking bent
towards the sun-light
6
of late
my intelligence seems somehow
to become slippery
there is so much pollution
in the myself-ism
it seems
even in collision with my shadow
some dragon-flies are killed every day
why do my eyes see so little
why do my tongue speaks so harsh words
to whose custody has gone
those rain-drops
those lemon-blossoms
there is the glittering of dew-drops
on the cob-web
the evening-worship
is sinking into the barking of dogs
as if the wings of the parrots
become van-rickshaw
as if the moon-light were
gradually retreating
in the enlightened city-life
Seduction
Spoken words and twisted deeds
Come hear the siren call
Play among the sheets
Be a wicked toy
Feel the caress of silken words
Hear the words
Watch her dance
Spoken poison
Twisted mind
Seductive sex goddess
Toy with the minds
Selfish little boys
Sunken by beauty
You got exactly what you wanted
Your death feeds till another night
Her whispers walked into
my heart like whirlwind at
twilight,
each phrase turned to
solemn sentences like a
graveyard farewell.
Metalic words stirred the
cloud and melted into the
teardrops falling my skies,
''It's over, don't bother to
ask why,
you are a nice guy but...
goodbye!
She
muttered, with inane
innocence garnishing her
face she rendered
her lines, behind her sweet
smiles
are waves of words
popping out like missles.
The stars could not contain
the storm, they became
blurred at dusk, the
candlelight of our... first
night fell under the
fountain of fears,
the roof of our four year
old tower is being carted
away by the whirlwind.
I stammered like a lad that
finds it hard to learn his
mother tongue, the tears at
the gate followed each
words as they burst from
the hall
of hurts, '' this is is not fair
e e e enough,
You know ow ow I don't
deserve
this'' I blabbed.
Like the proverbial dog
deaf to the hunter's
whistle, she braised up to
respond,
twisting her tongue in a
kiss mode, and with the
same first smile that stole
my heart, she dealt the final
blow:
the bombs landed on my
heart safely and raised the
dust of
despair,
'' spare me those rhetorics,
I am
fed up, it's final, get that
into your
poetic skull''. She roared.
I sank into my sofa, as I
watch her shadow walked
out of the door.
Each teardrop left a
trail...my tongue got the
lion share of it's taste and
my pillow was not spared
by the
streams of tears.
Alas! The morning breeze
carressed my
lips, the orange sunlight
stole through the curtains,
I felt...her warm arms all
over me as I woke up to
find her right by my
side,with red roses all
around the bed.
It dawned on me, that I
never lost her after all. I
was drowned in a dream
of deciet.
(c) 2012.
Adeleke Adeite
She is of all delight a wild heart
Her words penned in mind
Set scenes on fire
With seductive desire
Once read once seen
A moment for all to adore
Her flirtatious style rides you high
A moment of urgent lines
Your imagination takes over the mind
An spirit of mystery holds you
A Journey within her mind
Can you hide inside for a while
Just to admire her flame of flames
Her words like sonata to the senses
A daydream away
Instead you wait till the next line is deserved
She picked up pen and paper
When she was only three years old
What happened next was miraculous
A story that's never been told
Not knowing how to read or write
The words just fell in place
She wrote with understanding
From the pain that was on her face
They said she was a prodigy
A poet of old reborn
For her words could bring new found hope
To all who were tired and worn
People came from miles around
To read the words that would heal their pain
Written by a three year old
A miriacle they couldn't explain
She wrote for only three more years
Then her pen fell silent like before
This prodigy couldn't read or write
She was a little girl once more
The poetry comes sounding; through the beating of the drums;
And with it come the messages; which from this life will come.
Pictures can be painted; of winged hearts of love;
And creation through a window; is watching from above.
The concepts of integrity; sing an ancient tune;
While the givers of disparities; praise the dark side of the moon.
The wind has spoke soprano; while the thunder runs the base;
You may hear just what you want to; but the answers have no face.
The rider on a pale horse; brings a mighty word;
But maybe in these words as such; these mighty words you’ve heard.
Everything is everything; but little stays the same;
And this mystery is confusing; as is the nature of its game.