Best Gesture Poems
It was a token gesture
A hand he offered me
Emerging from my cab
Stormy night in the city
I didn’t know his name
But I’ll not forget his face
For he helped me gently
To a safer place
Blue eyes and thick black hair
He stepped in the rain-filled gutter
To close the taxi door
But not a word did he utter
Just a simple kindness
Like those of olden days
When gentlemen ensured
Ladies’ safety always
Now I’m a modern gal
And oh-so independent
But I stared in awe
At my hero so resplendent
As he turned to walk away
My impulse was to give a hug
But I just touched his jacket
And gave his sleeve a tug
“Thank you,” I whispered
Captivated by his smile
And how I wished within my heart
That he would stay awhile
He simply waved, then walked on
Disappearing into the rain
Since that night I’ve prayed
I’d meet this man again
But this kind token gesture
Recalled courtesies now rare
And I am pleased to say
Such tokens gents still share
*March 22, 2021
I do have purpose
that stays near
a constant reminder
of my inner child
As my conscienceness
shines through to create
a new perspective
I break out of my cocoon
Only to discover that
I find places where
the sanctity of my being
does not flow as it should
My intuition is what
guides me though
there is no longer the
desire for the constant
upheaval of tragedy to strike
upon me
On my journey I have
discovered that there
are many hidden truths
So as my spirit ascends
I am inspired by my bravery...
If I am frightened
by the visibility that
standing proud does to me
then I shall stand even taller
No longer will I fear
the degradation that
once was my shadow
there is no home here
for the shame any longer
And I will no longer be
swayed by the fragments of defeat
When I become sorely tempted by
sheer exhaustion
And I think I can't
make it on my own
I will remember that
I am walking this
road of life for me...
Our family’s visit to an ashram—
Where parasitical monkeys haunt ’n hum.
Creatures known for tricks and hanky-panky.
So tussles ’tween visitor and monkey!
Monkeys win— tussles with woman or man.
Outwitting the monkey whoever can?
So woes of the devotees are many;
There doesn’t seem to be solution any!
A li’l one came to us ’nd held her hand out;
With a bottle of water, turned about;
Came back again straight to my son swiftly
Only to look for lice ’n his hair deftly!
A surprising gesture of gratitude.
We appreciated her attitude!
***
Composed on October 18, 2017
morning's smile's glory
fragrance drifting in the air
petals' love's gesture
Inspired from "morning's smile" a picture of red rose of roof garden of
Demetrios Trifiatis uploaded on 27th August 2016 in face book
It's a kind gesture
that brightens a rainy day
A good feeling comes your way
It's a kind gesture
that isn't too much to give
It measures another
It's a kind gesture
thar connects us in this world
A birth of love we deserve
It's a kind gesture
Choose a positive way
It comes back to you someday
Heidi Sands
5/3/25
(C)opyright
.
Such an irresistible naïve gesture
from
those sparkling
bedroom eyne
Yes
slowly
with a softness
which even at a distance
I could feel
the silk slip to the cold wooden floor
fell
Out came the ink
and the slip
and they too
fell to
the cold wooden floor
Many years ago my partner gave me an unexpected birthday surprise,
A trip to Lake Windermere, the beauty of it there’s no compromise.
The hotel where we stayed was right on the edge of the lake,
A perfect location for a peaceful and relaxing break.
On the first evening we went into the hotel bar and brasserie,
We looked through the menu to decide what to have for tea.
As we sat having our drinks, another couple I observed,
The loudness of the woman’s voice was really quite absurd.
I tried to ignore the opinionated tone of her voice,
Hoped our food would soon be ready to get away from the noise.
I suddenly realised she was staring across the room at me,
What was her problem and what she was hoping to see?
I stared right back at her then my attention was pulled away,
Our table was ready, pleased near her I didn’t have to stay.
The meal passed by with laughter and lots of pleasant chatter,
Forgotten was the woman who’d seemed as mad as a hatter.
As we walked down the hallway to go back to our room,
The woman was staring at me again which really made me fume.
She watched every single step as we walked on by,
I was so annoyed with her; I looked her straight in the eye.
We continued to walk and turned into the customer lift,
I looked right at the ignorant woman and raised up my fist.
To my partner’s surprise I then gave her a two fingered gesture,
An old lady in the adjoining restaurant saw and nearly lost her denture.
Choking and red faced, she pointed her finger over towards me,
Her family totally shocked, looked at me helplessly.
It’s horrible to say but at this spectacle before me, all I could do was laugh,
My partner got me by the scruff of the neck and pulled me further back.
As the lift doors shut, I turned to face him waiting for my fate,
“What am I going to do with you, you’re an absolute disgrace?”
The moral of this story is, if you’re going to give someone the bird,
Have a good look round who can see or you’ll end up being cursed.
total decimation:
bodies hide in shrouds of dust -
gesture politics
My wife told me to be more romantic
And to book a table for Valentines Day
When we arrived at the snooker hall
I can tell you there was all hell to pay
Madness exuded like the
war cries of epic battles
and sagas' past,
the myth of man and
the passionate woman.
As the eruption
began to procure its
preparations, Prince Alarumdives,
a moment with the King,
solace, questioning divinity.
"My father, what troubles
plague us? The trumpets
do sound, do us not, impede
decision, for moment's wisdom,
pray we gather and bring
forth a judgement non-grievous."
"Alarumdives, Alarumdives. . .
why we struggle; and endure,
our precious privy, our passion,
our victorious role, a
maddening hysteria,
turmoil, envy? Malice?
These perilous endeavors
that this kingdom, rightly
now, yours and mine,
forevermore, must uphold,
boldly, righteously, justice
and its decree."
"Father, this constance,
unhappy we, if respect
is compromised, be it for
balance, ignorance I
plead, for precious love,
my Geinere. . . ."
"Alarumdives, your wisdom
exceeds you, a gentle
harmony passed. Be it
sincere, your declarations
to cherish, this unition
of marriage, not as
virtue, for loves' royal
to the commons, not.
Can'st be, your labors,
this battle staging as
war closely approaches,
a test, shall worthy
proven, joy then."
"My father, this Luciferus
impediment, a call to
arms, due parry peasant
royalty. A falling star,
my mercies upon, this
calling of crusade, of
scarlet tides of Eden's
embrace, goodness surely
redeemed. As graceful knight,
I embark, these ardors
of dire tragedies, kingdoms
indifferent, be it of ill-virtue,
of ill-decree? May the spirits
that beckon bring forth
victory."
"Alarumdives, much needful
preparation, call'st to
arms, for the galleys
of this kingdom bulging
with cannon. I am to
the balcon to esquire,
gather, hence I salute."
"The masterful sounding of
the ram's horn, a call
to bravery!"
The hills of high, there
did stand, a large
platoon, the flags of
Scotland, a summoning
to port Wales. Torches
afire, blazening with
the perils of passion
and vixen angelic.
Viewing from afar, a
messenger apart, battle
today, no question.
As both tides
prepared for climax,
the gallians, sure
mighty, though as
the Gods did pray,
only a taste, hints
of nothing more.
The horns did exude,
and battle, that
erupted, was as
the raging winds
of Tyr. . . .
The maiden's nipples
swollen, her bosom
flush with excitement,
hailing her goddess as
she slighted very
eloquently, puissant.
The goodness they
shared was of sinful
reproach, a somber
obedience of lovers'
admiration.
The dusk laden sky
flickered with prose,
the sorrows of
Belial's romance of lost
mysteries and his
vengeant domineer,
his bravado, his
masculinity, cascading
like spirals of chaos
and the chimes of
instilled darkness
climaxing to the
sojourn of forbidden
pleasures.
Gently now,
Belial eased this
fair lady to her lover's
demand, her patience
swelling between her
thighs, burning. . .
eternally.
- - - -
I.
Awoken from a dream,
a fair common was she,
her beauty unsurpassed
only by her soulful
demeanor and natural
prelude. Her femininity
and subtle prowess
always the victor,
her passion a hearkening
rose upon a lonely
desolate scorn. Her
feelings a bit feverish,
there now, nothingness
and the harlots of
misery and the massacre
of saintliness. The venom
there pulsing now,
was evermore raspy,
and only to the
delight of our royal
antiquities, vespers
of envy, of anger's delight,
of beckoning glee, a
madman's exuberation to
the deafening hysterias
of mischief's vertigo.
A marriage. . .
arranged, a stiffening
King to his Prince's
triumph over darkness.
Yes, this common peasant
and her divine bounty
was as a peril of Eve
searching for her lost
Eden.
There being no more
reprise, bitter, for her
burden, she was to share.
Somber eyes and
a broom for everyone
to take hold. Yes, the
beauty of a fair maiden
this, so vast and of
such masterful drab,
splendor to all of
the shared treasures
in spirits.
Rage!
A taunting basilisk,
enslaying our vat of
christendom and devotion.
To this day, of prayerful
morn, maiden Geinere,
awoke, scarlet fever.
...a sonnet for R.S. Thomas
A shaft of straw lodged loosely 'twixt his teeth,
a shifty glance from here to everywhere,
he toils the livelong day 'tween farm and heath,
a sullen youth with wild and shaggy hair.
The elements have pulverized his face,
a body lean and hungry from the plow,
in silence, with a slow and steady pace,
he struggles hard with sweat upon his brow.
Untutored still, yet he can read the sky,
the circle of a buzzard high and free,
more welcome to his sharp and seasoned eye
than any book or harsh calligraphy.
Today I had him pause to shake my hand,
a gesture he and I both understand.
Geinere's frailty
was that of an abandoned
child, lost in the world.
Her hurt was so that
of anguish and desperation,
her heart burdened by
his hateful words.
His domineerance, his
drunken righteousness,
protruding as a writ
man. A careful prodigy
was he, as his stupor
conceited to arousal
and a display of power.
"Geinere, calm thee now.
Closer, though not
as baffled, as I, for
you are in dear service,
fulfilling thee! Serve
your King graciously."
"My lord, pray thee no. . . ."
"Our bitter wench felt,
be this night, hence everafter,
I make thee worthy, art
the entail."
Tears erupted from poor Geinere.
Her soul departing as the
King's demands advanced.
Her innocence and essence
robbed of her, cheated now always,
a sullen amort. Her woes,
her unheard cries, her
tender virginity taken
from her, now left mad,
sadness and melancholy,
would be her muse.
Pain,
agonizing sorrow,
though unrightly welcomed.
For upon this eve of
tyranny and degradation
a seed of humility was
planted with no roots
of nurturance. The
passion shed would remain
a scar upon the royalties
of a forgotten King
and instill a harlotry
of peasant virtue upon
the dear maiden
and this dire kingdom.
As Geinere unwillingly
embraced the bastardly
disobedience of the
King and his dark
vespers of misery, her
turmoil greatened,
her flower taken,
her essence floundered.
The act maliciously foresaken.
"Oh angels, plentiful,"
chimed the King,
his behemoth of
propriety and lust
now ripe with vigor.
"In thy hopes of your goodwill,
overpowered, as vassal
actress, a call for
repeal."
"Begone Geinere!
Out of my chamber,
accusations found,
for I am certain, upon
your unwanted fulfillment
of matrimony. A
gift of guilt for you
hereafter!"
The night faded
as a moon blush tainted,
fell from the heavens.
- - - -
To the gardens. . . of celebration!
- - - -
As the birds chirped,
the sunlit golden,
the merry cries of
glee, for upon this
day a proclamation
of love ever-after. Though
ne'er yet had the
splendor been sighted,
jestered by many a perchance
of foolish folly,
a fellowship to the King.
Unbeknownst, a
yield to the forbiddance
of Hecate's personification
and a dire love of
familiar waft.
"For thee, upon the
hour of striking,
our quartet, profound,
still-born, the
forfeiture lag, our
gentile courtship,"
a voice of princely charm
did vesper.
"Taken aback, my
blossoming serenity,
tears of burden and
crying shame, the
kingdom and its
dungeon," Geinere's
essence declared.
"What'st thou speak of?"
The sentiments of a
conceited King.
Geinere, her mind
ailing, fever and
nausea coarsened
her. Sorrowful
thoughts of arrogance
and its unquenching
tale. Tragedies and
the grievances there
upon, for whom so
yet to embark.
Tears began to
stream down poor
Geinere's flush cheeks.
Her soul tarnished
amidst the excitement
of triumph and the
beckoning woes of
peasant parry royalty.
This dreadful day
lacking of divinity.
For there no poorer
game of betrayal
and scarred virtue,
than this sorrowful eve. . .
of bitter scorn,
and hateful deceit.
For a night
of beggar's delight,
the handsome prince
Alarumdives, maiden
Geinere, and a celebration
aye the more kisses
pricked ne'er a secret
scurvy. Hence,
a hidden barbaso,
royalty betaking an
ensigns way of lechery
to those of lower
chaste, welcoming a
jarrago of arousal,
silence. . . mischievous
silence, hastened only
by a King made bitter.
For his son's charm
and admiration, he
would pronounce his
demand for respect.
For surest upkeep his
pride and majesty,
an undertaking of
bane, as the waves
of splendor, owe.
It is gesture tells standard all of us.
In as for as, society co-operate with a loquacious
Hugged not poor and deserving due to hesitate,
Victorious appreciated beyond measure those ne'er violate.
Turn round the cycle pursuing principles certain we feel,
Ready not to deny ostensible reserved in our deal
An artless inquiry knock but in vain
Just digest, can landscape bloom without rain?