Best Glares Poems
Look closely, feel the harmless heat
enveloping black-diamond
petals in the glistening
garden of glossy geraniums.
There, sprouts rosemary dreams
from an untouched silhouette,
eager to be seen beyond
her perfumed pigments.
Her universe was sprinkled
with starry streams
of gleaming rays,
as she swayed to symphonic
serenades filled with hazel dust.
They may gawk with greedy
glares as wide as the night sky,
marking her with lecherous
objects that only please
shameless eyes.
She was never
in need of a sixth sense
to understand iron glances
that travel in nefarious packs,
with sugar-burnt hunger
washing all over her
unblistered flesh,
judging her concealer
as a manipulative facade,
seeking uncalled-for affirmations
that she never solicited,
misconceiving her thin lines
of red-river lipstick.
Her summer physique allowed
no consent for invasive intrusion,
yet carnal cravings become
unwelcome toxic trespassers.
Their immoral thoughts
believe shallow words
give them wanderlust wings,
while sinister stars in their sky
label her a soulless mannequin,
objectifying her
cinnamon-glazed skin,
sun-kissed hair,
and pecan-powdered~
caramelized voluptuous flare,
with their vehement
voracious desires.
Swinging penetrative thin blades
of opinions from miles,
oblivious to the fact that
she is the sanguine strength
that strolls in silver silence
across spiky swards,
suppressing the pain her
bones have endured with
every whiskering
whistle they wolfed.
There, if the mauve moon and
crystalline constellations look closely,
they would find versatile
mirrors of meaning
reflecting the times
she parades a smile too
comfortable to wear,
for they have concluded
her bed to be a shrine
of blenders and
overflowing thickened blades,
cursed by the biological
sins of Adam's ancestors.
Sun is held hostage by a blanket of clouds,
reflecting an agitated addict's ashtray.
Birds depart from soaked naked branches,
as eyes seek refuge from the ugliness of change.
I peer beneath this umbrage pitched upon the ground
anticipating a palette of summer to simper back
yet all I see are stick figure shadows frolicking
as this bitter autumn wind encircles me
Symphonies of the sky continuously weep.
I watch petals float in puddles of regret,
so I reflect back to a summer of mon amour,
where Michelangelo hands sculptured my garden.
Reflecting back, delicate strokes within velvety folds
as fingers trace the edges of my heart's blossom
crimson drops slip silently between my hands
for even the beauty of a rose holds autumn's thorns
Secure from rustic debris that blow against windows,
5pm twilight, means no rekindling with my cherished sun.
My shortened days lash back through glares of street lamps
with frosty glass etchings chiselled by night's harsh breath.
Collaboration with Sandra Adams
Silent One
20 October 2019
Standing before the microphone,
blank faces stare from cushioned chairs
Jewels sparkle, acting like they’re real,
while bow ties just seem sad…it happens
Marching to the beat of clicking heels,
unbuttoned vests as strange eclipsed spotlights
illumine smoke swirls in overhead rafters
flowing from my ember’d fingertips
And my hair is a mess…but it always is
and I don’t care…do you?
I’d clear my throat but that does no good,
gravel has taken up residence…it pays the rent
The room goes dim, the audience worries
Glares spark like steel on asphalt
I can see them clear, slowly fading in anxious doubt
My mind scratches some ink in dusty thoughts…
I love you, I love everything that is you
Need surpasses desire, and I need
My arms long to cling you, crushed against me,
breathing as one, harmonious breath…dusty thoughts…they come
The bass player plucks and that is my cue,
flicking my ashes I begin to read…poetry
and the audience smiles…I am a poet and poetry is cool,
Leonard Cohen was right
The cat rules our house, and she has us well trained:
We jump at the sound of her slightest complaint.
The day starts at six when I hear her loud cry,
Her pitiful wailing. I run to find why.
Queen passive-aggressive, she sits there and stares
Until I feel guilty. She silently glares.
I check on her food – only half full the dish!
I pour her fresh water. That wasn’t her wish;
She still has that look! In the bathroom I check:
The litter box maybe? Yes, there is a speck.
I scoop and I clean, and she, pleased, walks away—
She just wants it nice to use later today.
She squeezes right next to me onto my chair,
My pants and my sweater get covered in hair.
But she is so sweet and has such a soft fur,
And I like to stroke her, and hear her cute purr.
She made me become what I swore not to be:
The crazy cat lady- I think that is me.
January 3, 2018
For contest Crazy Cat Lady
Sponsored by Line Gauthier
As today.. tis 4th of July
May Blessings come
before Your eyes
All Praise and Glory
be to God Almighty
As You watch and see
Beyond and within Fireworks
Sparkling lights glares
Beholding Lights of Beauty
Love of God everywhere
when You see Fire-lights
Sparkling within the night
Tis just like
God Beauty is given Inside
Behold beautiful Souls
Whom within hearts
Fire-lights are Lit-Glow
In hopes that others
Shall see.. come to Believe
God's Radiant Light
Given His Gift of Love
Only Through Our Savior
Jesus Christ...
Then whomsoever
Comes to Jesus
Fire-Lights of Love lit-within
Born-again.. Free from their sin
God's Glorious Light
Shall Always Shine
Within Our Hearts.. Souls.. Minds
Awaiting for the Precious time
When Our Savior.. Our Messiah
Comes to take Us home
up High.. within the Sky..
Behold.. All Born-again Souls
Hearts on Fire-Lights Glow
As Radiant.. Beautiful Love
Sparkling Star-bursts Lights
Showers of Glorious Love
Radiant and Bright
As Jesus comes from Heavens
Lights Bursting in Air
Souls together everywhere
Gether High in Sky..
Meeting Our Glorious Light
Our Savior.. Jesus Christ
Come to Jesus
Beautiful Colors bursting of Love
God's Beautiful gift
When time be
You then too.. Be swept up..
born-again.. Into Gods Eternal Light
Set Free.. Fire-light lit
Stars Sparkling Lights
For God is the One
that makes all things happen
God's Beautiful Glory
Sparkling Souls..
Be Watchful
As Souls Like Stars bursting in air
As Jesus comes.. Like.. through the Night
Holy Spirit of Love.. non can compare
Shall No longer be here
For then Rapture..
Has Taken place
Whomsoever is born-again
Beholding God's Grace
Will be transformed
Reborn.. Sparking Love
Changed in Twinkling Light
Gone Home to be
With Jesus Christ
Our Glorious King
Everlasting Glorious Colors
Pure Holy Light.. Eternity
Come behold God’s Holy Light
As the Star Bursting through the night
Be Saved through God’s Radiant Glorious Light
Our Savior ..Jesus Christ
Rhythmic pose arcs lifting elegant ambience
Graceful dance enshrines artful renascence
Visceral posture invites emotional response
Festive celebration of aesthetic renaissance.
Attired in red and blue of simple elegance
Glorious style augments swirling excellence
Left arm risen high points gracious eminence
Finger tips lift vivid attire in quiet eloquence.
Golden bangles adorn wrists flirting in stare
A lone yellow flower crowns her silky hair
Folded right arm obstructs in a defiant dare
Index finger hides grief, eyes closed in prayer.
Head turned right, arched with sculpted flair
Tense neck muscles manifest muted despair
Open fingers gesture a stealth grievous flare
Air of intellectual grandeur opulently glares.
Ponder why the painter didn't show her eyes
Discover invisible pain vibrant colors disguise
Beneath the splendor lies a hidden surprise
Cultural dance-music echoes her silent cries.
September 22, 2017
Placed 1st:Poems that paint a picture
Painter: Anna Razumovskaya
Sponsor: Silent One
HM: Strand choice U contest by Brian Strand
Oh poetry,
why do you not feel me.
I was once your poetic percolate,
the assonance to your consonance,
spilling in silver ink,
upon Earth's raw fibres,
but in your quest for perfection,
wanderlust words are now waterless roots,
resembling a mediocre muse,
cursed from rose tinted glares,
exposing pages of bad grammar.
Since the feather in my quill
set adrift with fireflies in the wind,
conflicting choruses echo
in an acoustic refrain.
In this musical merry go around -
I'm only composed as a last thought.
In chapters of contemplation,
wondering if you feel the art of my heart;
I ponder if I am a
vacant vowel in your 'why?'
An unexplained myth..
A rhythm not seen in your rhymes
or do questions only bring bitterness?
But without the reason for answers,
will there be anything left to express?
I'm just an empty cartridge
abandoned from your fountain pen.
Now only aches and angst alliterate,
as invisible ink slowly dissolves.
I'll forever be an unfinished masterpiece.
A long forgotten poem. An anagram of listen.
There is no metaphor for this grief,
so I say goodbye to poetry
and farewell to my muse.
Love’s journey, joy and tears,
Guided by grace through all the years.
Gotta love, in every guise,
Each chapter cherished, beneath the skies.
True love with God, tranquil and pure,
Promises eternal, pristine and sure.
Divine devotion, a destined delight,
Faithful forever, in the Father's light.
Memories murmur, melancholy in pairs.
Gone is the glow, a grievous gap glares,
Whispered words weep, wounds within deep.
Separation's sorrow, shadows silently sweep.
Tender touches, time transcends too soon.
She sings softly, serenades under the moon,
Laughter lingers long, lovely in twilight.
Living with love, life's luminous light.
Heartbeats hasten, hopes held high, hues of blue.
In anticipation, ardor awakens anew,
Gotta love the glowing gaze, a girl's gentle bloom.
Glimpses of grace in the gathering gloom.
Sun is held hostage by a blanket of clouds,
reflecting an agitated addict's ashtray.
Birds depart from soaked naked branches,
as eyes seek refuge from the ugliness of change.
I peer beneath this umbrage pitched upon the ground
anticipating a palette of summer to simper back
yet all I see are stick figure shadows frolicking
as this bitter autumn wind encircles me
Symphonies of the sky continuously weep.
I watch petals float in puddles of regret,
so I reflect back to a summer of mon amour,
where Michelangelo hands sculptured my garden.
Reflecting back, delicate strokes within velvety folds
as fingers trace the edges of my heart's blossom
crimson drops slip silently between my hands
for even the beauty of a rose holds autumn's thorns
Secure from rustic debris that blow against windows,
5pm twilight, means no rekindling with my cherished sun.
My shortened days lash back through glares of street lamps
with frosty glass etchings chiseled by night's harsh breath.
A collaboration with Silent One
There was a time.
There was a time
When your fabled dreams
Seemed honest
A time when
Your open arms
Coated in dented silver and tainted dreams
Understood my Size 12 shoes
When the world seemed to be against you
Yet, still,
Your blunt eloquence welcomed me home
Then, your “rainbow”…
…shat
t
er
ed
Your heartbeat became an arrhythmia of petulant theatrics.
Your topaz coated spit
Released from refilled white-out bottles,
Brushing away quartered moons of an iridescent shame
A copycat of robotic muses
Infringing upon your pedestal,
Turned loud mouth, afflicting broken tongue
The “Stalin” of a messenger’s wit,
You raised your voice to a poignant sky!!!
And, as if Yahweh cured your muted disorders,
EVERYBODY HEARD YOU!!!
Including me
That was your goal…
…excluding me
From incipient edge, I witnessed you,
A turpentine puddle in front of a confessional booth
On a melancholic Thursday morn,
With ripened glares to avoid your hallways
Tangled, dangling pacifiers as your doorbell
...
There will come a time.
There will come a time
When social feeds will deprive your vexing smile
Of validation
Where ignorant heartbeats will awaken
Through lyrical epiphanies
To see your “rainbow”
As a faded, stolen crayon
Where flirtatious dialect from withered accomplice
Licks cubic zirconium’s aftertaste
Forgetting that karma doesn’t tolerate one-night stands
For me, that time is now.
Then, I knew who you were.
Now, I know who you are.
You are not what you say.
A false advertisement in Sunday’s illiterate paper…
…with erased verbatim amongst your mirrored peers
Remembering how you falsified truth’s smile
Dire requests for empathetic warmth of our yesterdays
Yet, my Agnostic coat could never be thick enough
For your saturated, dual face
©Drake J. Eszes
The mischievous Sandman runs a con game each night
After all the youngsters are safely tucked away
He dances into my room like an elfin sprite
He seizes my hand, tries to lure me outside to play
Then he’s bored on my shoulder at the computer
Threatens to throw pixie dust into sleepy eyes
Quells my muse like a discourteous intruder
I’ve attempted to handle him with a compromise
Just let my muse roam free for a couple of hours
For at this time of night, fantasies flow smoothly
But he feels the need to boast of superpowers
And when I ask for time, he glares gloomily
It’s three in the morning and I should be asleep
This nightly visitor has grown to be a pest
Distaste continues to grow for this pesky creep
And the sandman scowls when I say, “Give it a rest!”
*Entry for Deb’s Fantasy Land Contest
April 29, 2011
Rushing through each day, as if I had not a care,
head long toward the sun screaming, "catch me if you dare."
Dripping drabs of liquid sunshine burn my deft eye.
While seeking answers to the question, why, why! Why?
Into the sun I run, my skin so hot and dry,
as the dusky penciled pastels of twilight smear.
Through tight clinched lids the sun glares, blind I'll be I fear,
always grasping for truth, but my head just can't clear
my thoughts on the tautly stretched canvas of my mind.
Race and run and fill my lungs, still I fall behind
playing catch with the sun, and all I seem to find,
I'm racing toward the horizon of tomorrow.
Please, one more chance, for a moment I can borrow,
but blithe sun denies me, leaving me in sorrow,
while in the distance the light slowly fades to dark.
Truth or naught, who can say, the end is cold and stark
the meaning is lost in life's fading rainbow arc,
enveloping me in my sadness and despair.
Dripping drabs of liquid sunshine burn my deft eye
as the dusky penciled pastels of twilight smear
my thoughts on the tautly stretched canvas of my mind.
I'm racing toward the horizon of tomorrow
while in the distance the light slowly fades to dark
enveloping me in my sadness and despair.
07/29/16
Emerald green that shines on
gleaming green jewel bug
Algae green of the serene pond
And there swim the shoveler ducks
Harlequin green from areca leaves pinnate
Softly grins when sunrays gently penetrate
And the dark green on betel leaves
Oh ho, the deep red on tongue it leaves
Light green of the Mandevilla
That climbs high to shine bright
Mixed hues of the leaves of taro root
And turquoise green on the crystal clear Lake
O! The iridescent green hues
of peafowls whose vibrant colors ooze
off his pretty long feathers,
Do I need to apprise further?
Green paddy field glares
And sways like a girl's hair
Teal green from singing river
Accumulates minerals and delivers
Did I mention the grass green?
Hey! Isn't our earth's screen?
Raising that lustrous curtain,
unfolds vivid scene by scene
Our earth breaths through these shades of green
Without these green, there is no pleasant scenes
Looking at you, they feel lust;
lust for the curves they say you flaunt.
The silver lining visible through your deep neck.
The perfect waist they say,
you show in those tightly fitting kurtis.
Those slender legs they stare at,
during the numb hours;
their humanity melts with each moment a bit more.
Looking at you, they show greed;
greed for the thighs they say you flaunt.
The belly button showing through your crop top.
The toned hips they say,
you show in those cotton leggings.
Those naked backs they search for,
with their lustful glances;
their humanity melts with each moment a bit more.
Looking at you, they trickle saliva;
saliva on your pure spots they say you flaunt.
The strap of your bra peeking out through your shoulder.
Those luscious lips they say,
you call for with those lip balms on.
The dropping dupatta they hope for,
with those greedy glares;
their humanity melts with each moment a bit more.
Looking at you, they fall over;
over the corpse of the shattered soul they say you hide.
The life of the dead emotions oozing through your eyes.
Those clichéd tears they say,
you drip out for sympathy.
The lonely longings they wish for,
in those silent deserted lanes;
their humanity melts with each moment a bit more.
You are so much more than your hips or your thighs.
More than the stares and the glares, or some young man’s lies
BUT YOU HAVE TO KNOW YOUR WORTH
More stunning than the Mona Lisa
Your likeness can’t be molded into sculpture
you are living, breathing art.
You are not defined by your body,
Only your soul and your heart
BUT YOU HAVE TO KNOW YOUR WORTH
When you look in the mirror, please see more than your reflection.
See the essence of beauty
a work of perfection.
You are the inheritance of the promise.
You are the covenant unbroken,
You are cries unheard
and words unspoken
BUT YOU HAVE TO KNOW YOUR WORTH.
You are much more radiant than the stars
you are breathtaking constellations
You are a valley of virtue.
A Lady in waiting
You are shores of compassion surrounding oceans of faith
You are the much needed cool, caressing breeze, on a hot summer’s day.
You are the eighth, ninth, and tenth wonder of the world
Much more precious than diamonds and pearls
BUT YOU HAVE TO KNOW YOUR WORTH
You are more mystifying than the pyramids of Egypt,
More spectacular than snow caped peeks of Sweden
Your presence was predestined in the Garden of Eden.
BUT YOU HAVE TO KNOW YOUR WORTH
You are the silver lining stretching across the sky,
Broadened with truth, both gentle and meek
You are the earth’s horizon where land and sky meet.
You are a Queen, and upon your head you bare a crown
Adorned in wisdom, courage and strength
A most magnificent gift of GOD,
you are truly heaven-sent
But you have to know your worth