Best Garnets Poems
My life, like everybody else’s, is a treasure trove
with a mine from which one’s treasures are derived.
The familial bonds we form are platinum; our friendships gold.
These are precious ores that most souls are born to find with ease.
But all of us have other precious stones we need to mine.
They are the fruit of skills and talents put to their best use.
My treasure trove abounds with gems already -
ones that I discovered as a child.
Though rough in their natural form, most of them I opened
as I grew in understanding of God’s gifts for me.
Others not so easy to break open were able to be shaped,
for once I sought them out inside my mine
and cracked them open. . . their radiance was revealed to me.
Our precious gems, God-given, must not be squandered.
Once mined, they need to be shared.
Artists, teachers, scientists, tradesmen, leaders, even dreamers -
we all have different kinds of gemstones hidden in our mines.
Once, later on in my own life,
I came upon a silver tool used by many different types of artists.
I’d seen it in my youth but hardly used it.
Thousands of words lay embedded in that specific tool God gifted me.
I delved into the depths of my mine and learned
that I could tap and tap the silver worded tool upon each stone,
and finally a gem would then reveal itself to me.
The more I searched for stones to tap,
The more wondrous were the nuggets that appeared -
And there were more of them than I’d believed I could ever find -
buried there so deeply in my mine!
The art of crafting them and polishing them up
I was able to improve upon in time. . .
and found that even those less valuable could shine!
A poet’s gems need not be bought or sold.
Displaying them with love and pride alone can be fulfilling.
How I thrill to view a wide variety of gemstones
freely shown from others’ treasure troves.
From the rarest and the clearest multi-faceted
color-shifting Alexandrite and tanzanite,
and the most remarkable of diamonds, rubies,
sapphires, emeralds, amethyst and jade,
down to the lowliest of onyx, quartz, garnets, or agates,
each stone has something of the poet’s soul within it,
especially beautiful when polished to a brilliant sheen!
The more I open gemstones in my mine, the more of them I find,
and my silver-worded tool lies nearby at the ready.
Categories:
garnets, imagination, silver,
Form:
Free verse
I never met my maternal grandmother -
She died from cancer when my mum was aged only eight
Her sepia photograph sits in a silver frame on mum’s dresser
Many years ago mum gave me a ring that belonged to her mother
It’s delicate and pretty with three small red garnets and opals
The first time I slipped it on my finger it fitted perfectly!
When I wear the ring it makes me think of my grandmother
How I wish that I had had the chance to meet her.....
But sadly it was not to be
Wearing her ring makes me feel close to her
It’s almost like her hand is on mine
Contest Sponsored by Broken Wings
Old jewelry or just old things.
10~27~16
Categories:
garnets, grandmother, i miss you,
Form:
Free verse
Dazzling like a sparkling green diamond
Eyes lit up when I opened the velvet box!
My birthstone for Aquarius is garnet
Almandine is most common form with a rich red colour
Not for me -I wanted something more unusual
The jeweler had to order it in especially for me
Of course it came with a very hefty price tag!
It is called the 'star of garnets' as its name means diamond like
Demantoid is a particularly rare form of the garnet gemstone
A Gem for your verse
Sponsored by Carolyn Devonshire
10~22~16
Categories:
garnets, birthday, color, green, january,
Form:
Acrostic
Gems of sunset adorn
Gelid skies of Janus;
Garlands of blood-beads cast
Glints on glacial landscape,
Giving brief warm relief...
Glimmering sparks to thaw
Grief's glassy ice-shards.
Categories:
garnets, january, sunset,
Form:
Pleiades
the s e a
remembers the taste
of cinnamon sunsets~
the essence of
emerald embers
and resonances of petrichor
when the tides tremble
in turquoise delight,
amidst the marine snakes
slithering through
oceanic echoes,
mirroring Medusa melodies
in envious tones.
and as the morning
stars nestle in the
wildflower warmth
of the honeyed sun,
wine-red ink
flows within midnight
vines in vain,
aching to be heard,
while the jealous jasmines
jinx the sanguine spirit
of January garnets
I wear in
grace and gratitude.
yet if my sky knows
not the colors of darkness,
would the moon still
be my poetic savior?
silently sewing sequins of solace
to the fabric of love,
floating like cosmic candles,
elegantly emanating
perfumed perseverance
for I am the silhouette
of the horizon
wrapped in a plethora of
p e a c e lilies,
sprouting in the
glistening garden
of gossamer verses,
finding roseate reasons to rhyme,
when eclipsed
is the luna-light
and monsoon monsters
are the cynical spectators,
knocking on my canvas
with needles and nails
sharpened with
paper-thin confetti
of resentful remorse.
but I ponder,
will the blind still feel
the storms I breathe
and the strength I wear
to waltz through wicked weeds,
eager to chain unspoken needs?
this is me running from the toxic rain,
pushing me back into
the twilight zone,
where I surf
through nothingness,
engrossed in timeless trust,
tied to written tranquility,
manifesting magnetic waves
of inner truce and magic
as the sea remembers
the serenade of serenity
and the sky knows
the metaphors to merge
winds of love and
waves of kindness.
Categories:
garnets, emotions, muse,
Form:
Free verse
She had the utmost prettiest of pretty things
Ruby bracelets, broaches of garnets, diamond rings
Some looked up to her because of her fancy clothes.
Who these thinkers were providence only knows.
I waited for her to make her move, not yet impressed.
She was all of that, beautiful, and gorgeously dressed.
I suspected she would be vile, selfish, insanely mean.
But instead she had kindness such as I had never seen.
\
Categories:
garnets, 5th grade, 6th grade,
Form:
Rhyme
He is my all especially when I fall
He is my comfort when the winds are cold
The chill of the emptiness and my hunger may call
But I feel at ease knowing he is my all
And though I cry sometimes no matter what time of day
When I get discouraged he guides my way
You are my morning sun even in the rain
My stroking of my hair when in pain
And as the depths of me cry out to you
I pray you stay and keep doing the things you do
I know I am not perfect and this one can see
Even the blind know the flaws that are of me
I feel your assurance one day I will be free
Your eyes of garnets your hair of brown fire and skin of amber honey silk
Your kind hands and caresses as smooth as fresh milk
And your voice and song of leagues of angels sing to me
Even your words carry sweet melody
I hunger for you as a great lion with no food to eat
I thirst for you in a furnace like desert without defeat
Yes I say the glory is when I fall
To remind me each day you are my all
To Beloved Jesus
Categories:
garnets, faith, inspirational, cry, day,
Form:
I still follow
the blinking spells
of the rose wine sunsets
before surging sandstorms,
believing in the euphoric breeze
floating across the
shivering skyline,
echoing vermilion voices,
lost in the limestone grains,
as questions of change
interrogate the empathy
encrypted within
my inhibited intuition,
like spices of kismet flames,
swirling to the fluid fluency
of sentimental keys
in saxophone tunes…
But in the midst of moving monsoons,
I feel the eagle feathers of Zeus
rain upon the crystalline swing,
crooning songs of tameless time~
wrapped in the crescent cocoon
of silent splendor,
as I rise, dressed in steel and silver.
I hear the bluebird dream
in symphonies of the karmic sea,
streaming with specters
of star-struck ghosts…
O majestic marine jewel,
change is a promised ocean.
It’s sprouting coral blues
from reefs of ambergris embers,
awaiting floods of onyx tears
and jagged thistles,
like a tsunami of smeared streaks
reflecting the smoke
and swollen stains of the red sun.
Tonight, I erase the last mistake;
a scribbled imitation
of my aching past,
for I could not veil the scars,
failing to seize the
splitting clusters of
slate and garnets,
burning between
sleepless lakes,
drenched in midnight terrors,
as satanic waves
blur the turquoise surfing
through the limitless twilight.
Yet, I hear the mermaid moon
call my name in magical refrains,
steering my iridescent silhouette
to an ivory shore
where ebony hints of ink
would home the hermit castles,
where you and I can breathe~
as soulmates destined
to draw neon lifelines from
bioluminescent sparkles…
So let the bluebird drift into an orchid dream
where karma is the poet~
draped in deep violet,
writing elegies
to the eclipsed eyes of the red sun
that stole the silk and sage
of summer sighs…
And change is more than just a mere rhyme,
it is the ultimate essence
to rearrange
whimsical words
woven within wind
from honey and gold
of a
dulcet
dawn.
Categories:
garnets, deep, imagery,
Form:
Free verse
Purple blooms, lost in amber noontime luster,
Fragrantly crowding, in richest beauty cluster.
Sunshine gold seems to shimmer just for her,
As red butterflies wander, with many a flutter!
Awash in garnets, green trees of summertime,
And golden sapphires, warm roses on a vine,
Sparkle all the memorable days, citrine shine,
And flashing colors, of a diamond sun divine!
Categories:
garnets, beauty, color, flower, nature,
Form:
Rhyme
my anonymity is stalking the streets
like a preoccupation. mornings, slowly I creep
into august daylight, filling beat boroughs.
passing the time: digging fake burrows:
motel rabbitrooms don't come with sheets:
boxes gloomy in the dinge; dead-end streets.
dark corners; alleys; clean and replete.
rowers; faces; kept random, entreat
to be shadowed and cut - copied and reprinted:
E. de Silhouette: silk-screen and tinted.
marionette hands are fire-flies nigh night
like acariasis-itchy eyes: broken from sight
watching the downpour:
downbeat and worn
like tire-worm whitewalls:
peeling and torn.
the blanched, arched faces
(trampled like elephant’s acacia)
are garnets staring blankly at me
between the tiny gaps of a wintertime fleece
a paisley studded blanket, wrapped knee-high round niece.
running tubes from great maple: palsied cold saps
berry's blood ulcer pours like paint with no cap
from a bucket it spills: unravels, unwraps.
It splashes my feet then runs red and abrupt;
silvery and smooth, sanguis from a cup.
Categories:
garnets, angst, social,
Form:
Rhyme
Would you go swimming or fishing with an eighty foot strong hook, flippers, a basket hat, and a toothbrush tail? Bullfrog wants to. He wants to consistently visit the waters to engage in the flow and ebb and weave of the stylish currents. Duty bound so duty is and all flotation tanks that arrive on a ceiling are to be thus acknowledged. Carrier pigeons make very dramatic circling loops but circling a pair of pans is akin to dripping a sauce heavily over a tissue. Ok then. Perhaps it is the formality that is the formal but not the formerly formed first. And beware of baked rations of cabbages at this time. Fir they can rise and rise and rise and rise. So all you sea urchins, emeralds, garnets of tree clusters, and ilk hypothesise this scenario. In under one word. Or in a sentence of six characters. Here is the title to ponder. 'If nine elephants ate a cake with no icing would the rhino still be envious'. Scores will be given to any emblematic and meaningful answers. The rule is not to swear and curse for both are insufficient to a language lean. So don't lean heavily upon amplifiers, pool tables, breasts, sea horses, tails, or any related articles resting in fires and bins. Surplus to requirements is a large wad of mismatched print that portrays fresh cream and butter like lards and fats. Critical caressing creating crossing chaos. Chat chat chat and then cut chop. No chip shop in their right mind would sell multi corroded mouldy non sparkling potatoes in a fryer. So leap then. Longitude latitude is neither an attitude nor a mystified contemplation of a sausage roll on a shelf. Ok then. Tell it to the feathers, mystic beak in realm, tell it to the cloven hooves trotting in the towns, tell it to a block of frozen ice, soon to break and thaw, and don't forget the number two waiting at the door. And now go bake a cake using a lorry, a car and a huge seventy acre highway. Hahaha bread is giggling to the toaster. Hahaha postures of pigs parading and paragliding too. Hahaha missionary muscle mass musical effect. Passing. Xxxxx hypnotherapy Z. That was a bulletin from 9905829405.0 from the p Y Q REPORTING ON A NEW NOTE FLICK, z
Categories:
garnets, allegory,
Form:
Precious stones
Craze for jewellery and gems,
Traversed within my inner stems,
Aquamarine I could not resist,
Diamonds could take me to psychiatrist,
Garnets, topaz, emeralds and rubies,
Life revolved around treasures of seas,
It was so late for me to realise,
His love was real gem of a price,
Caring subtle heart with a constant beat,
Passion in veins was raising the heat,
Intense friendship could melt alone,
Emotions beyond any precious stone !
Written November 19th, 2014
For contest'Precious stones and gems' by Anthony Slausen
Categories:
garnets, love,
Form:
Rhyme
THE CHOICE
HE WAS asleep
Between space and time
The first light on the world
Floated idly
On him
He was just born.
His folded hands
Glowed a pale pink
To keep the fire of life
He wondered if he was really awake.
Is it the true world?
Is it the true village?
Is it the true nest?
He kept kicking
And cried like a scared owl.
God trod to the next village.
COUNTLESS
Oh said the voice
Let me kiss you
Let me go in the fairy way
Let me love you earth
Overly cautious she crouched
Over a street strewn with splinters
S o confusing for a fairy
She approached a dark alley
Full of vermin and dead
So confusing for her noble nose
We call it miscarriage in our land
She said and picked up intruder’s naked smell
Leftover of yesterday’s predation
She did not move
She was crippled in an unknown fear
The emotion alien to a fairy
I want to love you
But you will kill me
That she said and flew all the way
Across hellhole and slammed into a tree
Still young, bright, full of promises
Though clawed by vampire birds
She moved in sense of rekindling
I’m glad, I’m sure I’m glad,
I am in the fairy way
Because I came down to love
EVENING
Evening slipped out of the cave
Crossed the rock wall
And buried the city in soft kisses
Sun god‘s dripping soup
Gave her child a sunset glow
She went back to her cave
To sleep, to grow
HATES
Hates were slipping through my fingers
Little ones burning like midday sun
When they cooled made garnets for my sisters.
ANCIENT CAT GOD
An ancient cat god
Slammed down to my house
Went out with a sperm-whale
Harpooned by the mouse
A GRUFF FISH
Tara, I liked her so much
As a fish and as a friend
So in the Sunday night supper
She had made a double-end.
She was gruff fish after all
In night-supper it took its toll
Tara, I liked her so much
So I wrote this story on the bark of Birch
I gave a tabby cat one ounce of gold
That’s the way the story was told
Categories:
garnets, birth, cat, child, fairy,
Form:
Prose Poetry
Sapphires, rubies, emeralds, garnets, gold, silver, and topaz
Compared to our super beautiful heaven have no pizzazz.
This mystical magical angel empowering kind place
Is completely indescribable by the human race.
Lit by the glory of our loving omniscient God’s lit hue,
this place is more vivid than the famous gem, Oppenheimer Blue.
There are twelve gates, twelve archangels, patiently waiting in line
to welcome you to your self-actualized own sublime.
Gold and silver mountains that make Mount Everest seem small,
embrace newly-arriving anticipating souls, one and all.
Colors more vivid than a mere human eye can decipher
surround a heavenly novice, if they are not hyper.
The hyper are introduced to colors cool and calm
that play on their emotions like a soothing love song.
The magnificence of this cannot be gleaned,
It takes a bit of time to completely be seen.
*RHYMING Describe Heaven Poetry Contest Sponsor: Faraz Ajmal
Date 8/28/2018
Categories:
garnets, heaven,
Form:
Rhyme
OUR BOUNTIFUL GOD
Our God is bountiful because
in one open pomegranate,
He shows us whole orchards
of rubies and garnets,
multiplied like the feast
from five loaves and two fish.
Our God is bountiful because
He sends blessings by angels
like dandelion seeds on feathery wings
to people far away.
Our God is bountiful because
He sacrificed His only Son
to bleed red floods
to immerse everyone,
like His rainbow arching over the world.
Our God is bountiful because...
Categories:
garnets, beauty, bible, christian, god,
Form:
Free verse