Best Finishing Touches Poems
I picked up some words,
From an over heaped pile,
Words which impressed me most.
Put them carefully onto a blank paper,
Like a practiced player placing,
Rooks and pawns on a chequered grid.
Seeing page after page getting filled
With a deluge of words, I felt thrilled,
Viewed it casually from a distance,
Like an artist looking at a painting.
I saw words become colors,
My prodigality with words impressed me.
I gloated over my ability as a writer.
Lo! A work of literature in crude form,
Stood ready, willing to be chipped and shaped.
All left was to give it a form,
A stroke here and there,
Some finishing touches!
“It’s all so damn easy,
I shall keep the thing aside,
Ample time lies ahead.
I can now relax, take a break”.
I said to myself, complacent.,
Days slipped by and months rolled away.
One day I took out the scroll,
Wiping the dust and cobwebs away.
Read through it slowly,
My former illusion just faded away.
Its stale familiarity repelled me.
Words stuck out here and there,
Making no coherent sense.
All I found was a jumbled, jotted mass.
To me, ere they looked like lovely dames,
Colorfully dressed up for a mega show.
My eyes were dazzled by their costume,
But now when I wait for them to fall in line,
Gyrating in rhythmic steps
They stand still as a disorderly mass,
Refusing to budge an inch,
Unwilling to sway to a rhyme.
Lost in a barren desert of words,
With each grain of thought
Looking so similar, lacking uniqueness,
I set aside my empty new canvas,
Which I had kept ready for re-entering.
Until the artist in me comes up
With a new configuration of colors
Let it rest in the drawer of my shelf.
Ive invested serious time
roaming the corridors of my mind
trying to design a portrait of you
and I've come up with a blueprint
that I think is right on time.
So if you would be so kind
as to allow me to sketch your outline
to be your personal Micheal Angelo
it would be my honor to let
the world know you are a Masterpiece
and when this portrait is released
it will render men speechless
and this visual rendering
will only increase in value
because the portrait in my mind's eye
is only one of a kind
therefore priceless
So allow my hand to be the brush
and you the canvas
first I will use the softest of tints
to represent your buttery skin
and even softer hues to represent
the beauty within you
then I will use a special brush
and a delicate touch
dipped in sprinkles of Heavenly dust
to represent the workings
of your heart
and maybe bolder colors
to emphasize your mystic aura
then I'll use colors that are subdued
to highlight certain aspects of you
such as your precious smile
dimples, nose, and lips
and then I'll paint your ears
with a special brush
so you can hear an angel's whisper.
Now I'll need a rare shade of gold
to paint the splendor of your soul
believe me
you will be my work of art
stroke after stroke done to perfection
and this is only the start
for God promised me
He (or She)
would add the finishing touches
to guarantee you will be that work of art
I rave about
beyond the shadow of a doubt
you are a Masterpiece
I feel at liberty having you here,
Sitting unassumingly,
In the corner of my lounge.
Free to cavort naked as my mother bore me,
While you remain firm and sure,
Spurning your chances to,
Remark upon my togs.
Your bare coat at no time results,
In you objecting, should I open a window or two?
You never shudder or tremble.
Sometimes I hear you brush,
Tacitly, against my restful sage lounge walls.
Never do you interrupt as I prattle,
On and on and on and on,
About frivolous issues.
I furnish you with drink,
As you, tender the finishing touches to my parlour.
We have been through so much,
yet, somehow we have survived it all.
Through the good times and the bad, the sorrow and the pain, the smiles and the
frowns,
but, here we are still standing tall.
Together we are standing,
proudly side by side,
To join our lives, families and friends,
as I take you for my bride.
Together on this glorious day we will be,
combining two hearts, two body's, two minds.
I have been blessed, an angel sent to me,
Nichole, you are the one I was meant to find.
Finally my life is whole,
complete I would say,
With the finishing touches I am about to receive,
on our beautiful wedding day.
My promising vow to you will be,
is to love, honor and cherish my beautiful treasure.
You are my soul-mate, my angel, my heart baby girl,
Always and Forever.
Dedicated to: My beautiful wife Nichole S. Larson
So as the fauna flakes into flasks and the distance is at ease,
so as the forgotten fallen ones are at peace and you and your life are crease,
so as the harrowing start and a seasonal bar goes into the yonder park,
and an endimony of our presentation is falling into desert art-
I am pleading that you start speaking to them all in a heart-
I am donned to be peaking as I am just about to fall off the energy's leaving one little diamond in the war-
I said I wanted to fight, and became broken in the hallway,
it's O.K, I am only as ready as the unrealized baseness of seeing the future so stark,
let's let them off as we go because I have no other wool, and the only history of time is the glittering wine in the standout cottage on stage street where I round-about all hairy lore,
stupid as I can't breathe the only time I say please is honorary a beast so let's wonder about the finishing touches now heavenly and...
Life's Lesson Life's Hacks
Learning to see with your heart,
for once,
and see the things the eyes cannot?
Learning to listen with your heart,
as well,
you'll hear the things your own ears cannot tell.
Should you hear a broken-down man cry,
or a homeless woman,
she just stole some food, and you saw it?
Let me see with my heart,
oh Lord,
let me know to listen with my heart, too?
So, I can know to ripen with age,
spilling over with the pearls of wisdom,
I've learned throughout my days.
Life's lessons' are the best to learn,
sit down, relax,
and wait till your turn.
Remember the stupidest questions,
are the ones not asked?
So ask away, ask away, ask away, all.
I think I'm going to write some right,
with finishing touches, this prose still, I write?
it'll take a while before it gets into my blood
I'll bide my time until it's written in stone
run with the devil like y'know that y'should
and I'll find a way out o' here on my own
\/\/
describe one's colors to the willingly blind
reluctantly shines my one n' only star
so many lovers with whom to invest my time
and nobody ever wants to work that hard
nobody ever really wants to work
nobody ever really wants to work
nobody ever wants to work that hard
You want to shut down before making a start
nobody ever wants to work that hard
\/\/
after crying salty tears I blow my nose
I've been kicking up the leaves in Paisley Park
they arrested me with their dos and their don'ts
this time, "looking for relief long after dark"
nobody ever really wants to work
nobody ever really wants to work
nobody ever wants to work that hard
there's a carpet of leaves out in the yard
nobody ever wants to work that hard
\/\/
nobody ever wants to work that hard
_________________________________________________
This is a funny song. Written to relieve stress. Musically it's far from finished, I'm eager to get to work on the finishing touches. Soon I'll have time to knuckle down to it. Ok, music is finished, it's a blast! I'm feeling like the bestest songwriter in town!
After the first rendition someone looked through my eyes and into my skull and slowly said: "some of us do." For cryin' out loud!
I don't know if it's lyrically finished. Enjoy. It's finished.
Don't waste time,
On holding grudges.
Always make sure to add,
the finishing touches.
Say you're sorry,
When you should.
If you make a bleep,
Knock on wood.
Let go of things,
You can't change.
Stay clear from things,
That are pre-arranged.
Forgive,
If at all possible.
Think before you react,
Be responsible.
Your darkest hour,
Can be the brightest light.
Never give up,
Without a fight.
A new beginning,
Comes from a painful ending.
Try to complete the task at hand,
Try not to leave things pending.
All the painful lessons,
It makes you strong.
Helps you out,
keeps you plugging along.
Betrayal can make you,
More intelligent.
Only put effort into,
Things that are relevant.
Be quirky,
Attract the unattracted.
Stay on track,
Don't get distracted.
In the face of adversity,
Don't hit below the belt.
When you leave,
Let your absence be felt.
Some days go slow,
Others you make progress.
Believe in yourself,
Trust In the Process….
Turbo1904
The steam slowly raises from inside my mug, wrapping itself around my pencil, eventually
evaporating into the musty atmosphere.
As I open my sketchbook I imagine all the possibilities of a world inside my head, but today
I’ll stick to what I do best.
I place pencil to paper and within seconds her eyes blaze like wildfire, a look of pure
mystery and a feeling of seductiveness.
Her nose is sly and round with a slight creek to the left in a cute and attractive way, I pick up
my cup and take a sip before moving on.
I sketch a swiftness of lines as a base to what will later become a sea of hair, my hand slides
down to her neck, she is beautiful.
I rub my eyes, it’s late now and my candle is starting to burn out, her shoulders are broad,
not to wide but slightly long.
I run the tip of my lead around her soft breast, they sag slightly at the bottom but I don’t
care, as I draw in her hips.
You could place your hands on hips like this and hold them for a lifetime, I move my pencil
up to her waist, I prefer the fuller figure.
I realise my tea has turned stone cold as I take her soft hand into mine, we dance around
the page between the flowers and tree’s.
I look into her eye’s of blazing fire and draw in the final outline of her hair, I think it would
look good light blue with green streaks.
I draw in her thighs as my pencil runs down her long smooth legs…. No, I take my eraser
and rub out her legs as I change my mind.
Instead I think I’ll have her legs disappear into a mist, her dress of gold and black sparkling
in the cold midnight air.
I draw in the tears as she cry’s, for no more life has she ever known, we walk through night,
as I hold her hand she rests her head upon my shoulder.
We take a seat on a newly sketched bench next to a fountain over flowing with water of the
darkest blue, and she sighs.
I get from out of my chair and fill the kettle, as the water boils I contemplate her fate, I pour
my drink and sit down at my desk, I get to work.
Her arms out spread and a smile on her newly formed gentle lips, I draw a sparkle into her
tears, then as I place the finishing touches I rip out the page.
The frame is cheap but not tacky, I placed her on the wall above my desk,
Where next to a crystal fountain of water blue and dark,
She can dance forever.
specified such so as to issue a rhyme,
but proceed as this scribe
doth git linkedin with the cutting crew
yet not the least whirlwind will offset
my b52 Hair style,
or hirsute shellacked beehive type do
no matter from what literary website,
an unsuspecting reader will accidentally
stumble upon a ewe
fo' mystic impression
wilt ache shape about myself
some accurate ledge gin dairy horsesense
about me will ensue,
especially if I sheepishly admitted,
this beastie boy iz a genuine foo
fighter toward this former
stone temple pilot, wildly whizzing,
gurgling in age inappropriate burbling,
dribbling, flickr ring for a goo goo
doll to dare buffer end me, hub bee of piggish,
ham handed, bay kin a poetic slop hoo
might at this juncture succinctly cease reading
prior to putting finishing touches on ma igloo
when the remaining portion of this dippily goofy,
slippery when whet, trippy treacle G.I. Jew
who would, more aptly
coon sitter himself hub
horn hug ken atheist, boot knew
not a whit about Judaism,
nor any other belief paradigm,
yet does get fixated (usually in the loo)
about philosophical ideas,
which yet to be revealed
abstract notion came to me
while enjoying a plateful of moo
goo gai pan, plus other Chinese food
(a favorite cuisine),
now aye will try to new
dill back to the initial pretext
found me drawing blanks
(no not shooting) – ooh
aah, this theme within guttersnipe noggin
more difficult to codify than one whiz
constipated and try'n might damn hard tip poo
anyway, the general premise alighted, and fired
mine gray matter cause a major cerebrum jam up
with sudden crackling star bursts forced
I once joined the procession of colors and lost my heart
Till a wave colors distilled through night knocked me down dead.
Besides the mountain, the midnight festival of colors is on.
Lying in my arms you imagine your blood is burning in my veins
I am only listening to the chariot of the queen joining the revelry.
I knew you were being vain when you came to see me
I did know when your heart missed a beat. For the air was my friend.
And the tiny bird building its nest in the rafters of my roof
Did not bring a straw as long as you talked.
You never said bye. For you wanted me to do that. But I had no time
And kept riding on the wave. The storm is not away. What if I fall.
Tomorrow I will be lying in these shores caressed to sleep by a smiling sun.
I don’t have the time to forget you in the endless expanse of this blank night.
Last night’s sun was but a spot hewn out of the tragedy of the heavens.
A tragedy that survived the ages to live in my heart in fire and smoke.
You keep away while I create my pieces in these desert sands. When I proceed
To give them the finishing touches, you shriek in despair. For you think
I am going to spoil the lovely piece of some great master with my clumsy hands.
-2-
Tomorrow is the illegal child of today abandoned in the dark.
I end up at night and my child is born at night, having passed
Through the summer that seared my skin and heart.
The cup of sorrow is never full, so there is no overflowing.
Yesterday we witnessed the winter night breathing its last.
Winter was in lament for the little bird that went up but never returned.
I bear no gifts for you. I know not your names. I know not who you are
But I recognize you without mistake against this backdrop of misery.
I come here with my empty bag to gather the drops of your sobs
And consign them to the flame in my mind leaving your smiles behind.
For: Catie Lindsey's Free Verse contest
With my family and in-laws and out-laws arriving real soon,
I tried to put the finishing touches on the festive dining room,
just then the door bell rang and everyone had arrived,
with 50 extra mouths to feed I hoped we would all survive,
Everyone crammed into the room as it became stifling hot,
the little ones all having cold's their noses dripping with snot,
we all sat down and bowed our 51 heads and said grace,
noticing one of the little ones wiping her nose on my curtain with lace,
With everyone enjoying themselves I was happy and relaxed,
all of them eating and smiling till I heard a faux pas,
two of my out-laws standing up and getting in each others face,
I thought to myself what happened 20 minutes ago we just said grace,
Before I knew it there was turkey and cranberry flying through the air,
my in-laws and out-laws acting like the McCoys and Hatfields,
throwing stuffing and pies at each other it was like a nightmare,
the little ones crying and screaming I had to get out of there,
Going into the bathroom I locked myself in and used the toilet,
flushing it and watching it overflow I started getting nervous,
hunting for paper towels there wasn't any of it,
ended up using my expensive bath towels to soak it up with,
Tidying up I went back to see what else might have happened,
hearing car door's slam I watched everyone pile into their station wagons,
feeling relieved I looked at the mess in the dining room,
shaking my head I called up an order of chinese as I grabbed the broom,
Sitting on the couch I watched the Macy's Day Parade,
not completely cleaning the mess I wished I had a maid,
enjoying my chinese food and the nice peace and quiet,
until I heard a sputter and gurgle noise coming from my defiant toilet.
11-5-16
The door will not budge
It’s locked and bolted
Doubly secure
It was once wide open
He was waiting at the door
To welcome me in
Arms outstreched
Love shining in his eyes
His heart home
Decorated in all the best
Waiting for me to come in, to rest
To relive memories
Of a young love
After all these years
His heart home
A refuge a comfort
Warmed by the fire
Of glowing embers
Now bursting to flame
Of a love never gone out
A love still the same
After all these years
Having found him again
I was a welcome visitor
I stayed, I loved, I lived
In the heart of his home
But I was overwhelmed
Giddy, delirious
With his love
Sure it was not real
How could he love
Someone like me
After all these years?
And so, the moment he looked away
To give the finishing touches
To a love feast
He was preparing for me
To feed my famished heart
While his softly uttered words
Were hovering around me
Kissing and undressing me
Melting me to the core
In that moment
I slipped out through the door
Afraid of what I’d do, say
If I stayed too long
By the fireplace of his love
Leaving behind me
His broken heart
And now
A weary traveler
Filled with regret
Not finding any kindness
Any welcoming embrace
Or any heart home
With passion ablaze
I come back to the door
Only to find it locked and barred
But I know he is there
I see the dim light
There…he looks out from the window
And pulls the curtain tight
I knock and I knock
Till my hands bleed
And my eyes run out of tears
But the door stays shut
Firmly shut
And day upon day
I wait and I pray
Squeeze bloodied love letters
Under the door
Beginning, pleading for more
Another day ends
And nighttime descends
And here am I
Here am I
Down on my knees
On the other side
Of the door of his heart.
Eileen Manassian Ghali
When I was young, I had a dream
and saw life in a different perspective.
I saw life as a park,
where I could just come, play and go.
I thought time was slow
so I slacked and relaxed.
I had a dream but kept it inside
saying to myself, "there´s still time".
I played all day
and slept all night.
I even forgot to pray
and ask God to show me the right path.
And then I woke up the next morning,
Wow!!! I´m twenty-five.
Wow!!! I´m no longer a baby.
I´m now living my own life
and living my life includes pursuing my dreams
which I have left to rotten.
I pick them up now
and all I pick is nothing
cause I left them to sour.
I start from the scratch
when my mates are giving theirs finishing touches.
My dreams I start to patch
when my mates are receiving honorary badges.
And then I realized my time wasn´t frozen
but was moving as I was breathing.
It´s funny how life turns out to be
when you´re no longer a baby with little mentality.
Crouched in an alley
Cold unwelcoming cobblestone
Raindrops keep him half awake
Stayed up all night sipping coffee
Finishing touches to canvass of
Bluebird skies and sailing ships
Those holding umbrellas pass by
Look - and move on through
November's leaded skies...