Best Glistening In The Sun Poems
With the turning of the green
the fevered hues engulf my soul
rich radiant reds glistening in the sun
as my heart gleams with memories
of the solemn words that fall from
your angelic lips.
The ornate orange and dynamic yellows
come to life
like those sparkling flecks dancing
inside your autumn eyes. Oh my heart
my heart, rest my heart.
Breathless the breeze blows a subtle scent
of sweets from the pink flowing Amaryllis.
Blow sweet breeze blow off into the night
and on your wings I plant my kiss. A loving kiss
filled with the finest fruits of my harvest like the
finest bottle of red served on the terrace overlooking
the Grande Canal in Venice under a moonlit sky.
Blow sweet breeze blow and onto her veranda swirl
swirl gently into her palatial palace and wrap my love
firmly upon her waiting cheek.
The Ambiance of Amber Light
I watch the morning glow behind you
inviting my eyes to pause in soft amber light
which frames your beauty
warming my heart with a smile
bursting the seeds of passion
allowing them to float endlessly...through my soul
pouring desire into the eyes of love
until they overflow and drip like dew from leaves
glistening in the sun spiraling towards Earth
leaving a wondrous glint in the eyes
could that this moment never end
nor escape into the unknown
Bathed is my essence in sweet dew of dawn
and wondrous is the glint that luster your eyes
as I radiate morning-glory grandeur
within your golden gaze of ardor
whose fervent seeds sow saffron dreams
wishing to possess and be possessed
I reach for you surrendering in softest amber light
luscious in the bloom of morn
captured in the nectar of each breath
taken in the heated heights of desire's depths
this moment an amaranth
thrilling this twinkling of time never to fade like a distant star
My gratitude to Susan and her beautiful mind and heart
for her help and kindness
The eye refracts the light and then is born
An image, and ideas are likewise shown
When Poet tilts each ray of thought to form
Reflections set to sonnets’ rhythm own.
A river glistening in the sun does flow,
And so a sonnet moves and shimmers rhyme.
This stream of words with not so far to go
May ripple in the soul with glow sublime.
A diamond that is cut to form exact
By craftsman's hands, a brilliance will impart.
The sonneteer must chisel to extract
From rough a clarity which is his art.
The sonnet's beauty shines through history
In prisms of precision's poetry.
July 17, 2020
Morning light wears a softer hue,
embracing wet leaves, glistening in the sun.
Thick grass brings a caressing warmth, to our feet,
as we travel gentle slopes,
to farthest hills, as lovers do.
Our palms closed tight like oyster shells,
covering rare pearls,
as we watch pastel red skies turn a velvet blue
If I were a bird I would glide above you,
dipping my wing each time you smiled,
allowing love's fragrance to fill our lungs,
until they burst, releasing butterflies into the world,
like a thousand tiny finger paintings,
surrounding the innocence of love,
that comes when two mouths melt in silence.
Oh Vanity Thy Name is Metro-Man
At the gym,
admiring his bulging biceps in a giant mirror,
he reaches for his ever-ready smart phone
and stops to make a boastful tweet.
Driving home, sipping his protein drink,
he involuntarily sneers
noticing construction workers on a roof,
their strong bronzed arms glistening in the sun.
He makes a mental note
to stop off at the tanning booth tomorrow.
At the salon, and after his daily massage,
he lies back for his manscape.
Oh, how it hurts, he inwardly groans,
but as he contemplates how the hotties at the pool
will love his baby smooth skin,
a smile lifts the corners of his mouth.
At his sterile home
with its many beautiful toys meant to entertain
the largest and oldest of grown-up boys,
he goes to his social media account
eager to relate how just today
he broke his personal best bench press record
Before bed, he brushes and carefully flosses
and then applies his special lotions.
Looking down at his manhood, he smiles again
until the thought
of pushing papers at the office
flits through his mind:
Oh the drudgery that I must endure
to afford my awesome life!
July 10, 2017 for the Modern Vanity Contest of Lewis Raynes
I watch the rising sun of morning glow behind you
inviting my eyes to pause in soft amber light
which frames your beauty
warming my heart with a smile
bursting the seed pods of passion
allowing them to float endlessly... through my soul
pouring desire into the eyes of love
until they overflow and drip like dew from leaves
glistening in the sun spiraling towards Earth
leaving a wondrous glint in the eyes
could that this moment never end
nor escape into the unknown
Bathed is my essence in sweet dew of dawn
and wondrous is the glint that luster your eyes
as I radiate morning-glory grandeur
within your golden gaze of ardor
whose fervent seeds sow saffron dreams
wishing to possess and be possessed
I reach for you surrendering in softest amber light
luscious in the bloom of morn
captured in the nectar of each breath
taken in the heated heights of desire’s depths
this moment an amaranth
thrilling this twinkling of time never to fade like a distant star
Frederic Parker and Susan Ashley
(a collaboration)
June 2, 2019
~ Poem Of The Day ~
June 3, 2019
(celebrated on Frederic Parker's page)
Special note: it is indeed an honor to share in the wonderful recognition of Poem Of The Day with my inspiring and gifted collaborator, Frederic Parker.
Frederic, thank you for initiating this beautiful piece and for inviting me to create poetry with you. I cherish our beautiful and fruitful poetic fellowship, dear poet, dear friend.
Poet’s note: Frederic, it was both a thrill and an honor to be invited to collaborate with you on this very special and romantic poem. Your tender, breathtaking artistry touched my heart and charmed my imagination. You truly inspired me with the gift of your expressive talent and golden pen. Thank you, dear poet and my dear friend, for a beautiful creative experience.
I watched the sunshine kissed her toes
Slowly moving to her thighs
How I envied the sun
Kissing that gorgeous brown skin
I sat in the shade yet my temperature rose
Imagination carrying me away
To that week we first met
When our love began to bloom
We kissed beneath the moon
Our surrogate for the sun
Reflecting in her eyes
Oh how I ached for her touch
My soul and body electrified
Now I watch her skin glistening in the sun
I can no longer wait
I walk over
Lean down
Give those sun kissed lips a kiss
She opens her eyes
She smiles
My world is made complete
Poetess Darkly
A Kiss is just a Kiss Contest
frozen on the vine
cryogenic flavored host
a time released smile
frozen on the vine
ice glistening in the sun
grapes hold on tight
harvest time has come
necter trapped in purple orbs
till glasses are raised
Freddie's Grape Haiku Contest
Beautiful downtown Atlanta
Sunny, blue, cloudless sky
Tall, wide, massive buildings
Window glass glistening in the sun
Beautiful, well-dressed people
Gainfully employed people
Taking care of business people
Running essential errands
Contributing to the community
Pursuing positive, purposeful lives.
I take in the sights, sounds, smells
Sounds of people walking, talking
Engines revving and car horns honking
Smells of restaurants and fast food vendors
Engine exhaust and overheated brakes
Feel of the sidewalk
Under my expensive dress shoes
Heat of the sun on my face and neck
Exciting hustle and bustle
Of a thriving metropolis.
A faint, “Please, sir …” reaches my ears
And a homeless man appears
Dirty, disheveled, hirsute
“Please, sir, could you …”
I divert my eyes, quicken my pace
Ignoring his petty pleas
His weak speech trails off
As he disappears in my wake
Bothersome soul, good riddance!
Why doesn’t the city do something?
Days later the encounter troubled me
I was so proud of the way I handled myself
How easy it is to dismiss a soul in need
Months later the encounter tormented me
Instead of the clever human I thought I was
I had become unfeeling, unkind, uncaring
Years later the encounter still haunts me
Never will it ever happen again
Never … ever …
Locked in place on a high cross
Swords spoke the foreword
A quick glance at eternal peace
Combat defined his wounds
Only the pen of history
Penetrates his heavy armour
Behind his shield lies purgatory
At the height of an evil empire
Cracked dried lips to steel
Exposure to the kiss of death
Vanguard to a spiritual thirst
Glistening in the sun unsheathed
Doors open to unknown corridors
Momentarily blinded by a flood
Of light - vulnerable to carnivores
Engrossed in the scent of his blood
A costume designed to antagonize
Missiles of jeers from the masses
For the iron fist it symbolises
On their visibly anguished faces
Metal sparks fly to illuminate
The wide-eyed in the grandstand
Fireworks displayed in the court
On unchained blistered hands
A heavy heart to condemn
Stumbling in his reluctant march
Enslaved for the true price of freedom
A beheading at tip of Caesar's thumb
The first blow is on target
Sends his mind off on a tangent
Far beyond the castle walls
To a dream of a love lost and distant
Behind the lowered vice
Is a soldier wanted for treason
For gold and land promised, but
Never delivered for reasons never given
For centuries feared far and wide
The myth of a fire-breathing dragon
He relinquishes his mask – his pride
Lies dying of his wounds in the dungeon
When the battlefield still had honour
Before death became a spectator sport
For those with a twisted sense of humour
A gladiator once lived and fought
08-18-2015
Thabang J. Ngoma
Invisible figures moving in the mists of time,
Hidden female phantoms, masters of the wilderness
Wild, blending in as chameleons, they are the unseen.
Legend's cryptic tribe.
Maidens veiled beneath mysteries coverlet’s of beauty,
Vanishing, as if a vapors mystic dream, created by ancient
Historic mythology.
But nay the Amazons, were fierce fighting warriors,
Battle hardened women, whom lived by the basic instincts.
Of survival and honor.
Unbridled by the whims of society, no chains bondage,
Could restrain their desire to be free from mans law.
Liberation's winds moistened their lips, and inflated
The lungs of these warrior women.
Nomads raised on the theology, that man are inferior creatures,
To be used as beasts of burden, or at leisure’s pleasure,
Nothing more.
Skilled in the art of war, renowned for courage’s
Unyielding voracity, armored maidens of legend,
And for raw endurance’s strength of will.
Blow the golden horn of victory's challenge,
As the ancient archer thus thread's her bow,
In anticipation of the battle to begin.
Drawn swords at the ready, do you not
Hear their ancestral cry to arms, take
No prisoners alive.
Shield maidens whom answer to know man,
But only the Gods themselves,
Behold they are the Amazons.
Shoulder to shoulder, and back to back,
Shields raised glistening in the sun.
The battle lines are drawn in history,
A fierce fighting force by all accounts
Renowned, to legacy's ancient passage,
For all women to be proud of generations
Forward to come, remember their battle hymn.
Freedom sisters, can you not taste it's
Flavor of liberation, carried on destiny's
Four winds, I'll raise my cup in tributes
Honor unto them, known as the Amazons.
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
Ascending the mountaintop, drawn to the realm eagles glide,
With unfurled wings locked on a cruise, eyes glistening in the sun,
I heave over the crest of crags, my mind, on the dizzy brow,
Pulled by the dew, the sunbath, the soft echoes of rhythmic
Pitter-patter of dew drops, and the charming panorama.
Above the clouds, glossy dew dribbles calmly, chills summer,
Warms winter. Blooming flowers bow at the whiff of the wind.
Honey jets from hives like milk from udders of pampered flocks.
On the plane, my eyes stretch to where the sky embraces the sea—
Blue with blue in lovers' hug. I soak heaven's elixir!
Earth rumbles, jostles for breath, sinking in the mire of death.
I dread... no! Dare I think of the grumble, the jostling against
One another for what is not, what drains off like rain from a rock?
On the plane, I float with the clouds, tanning in the sun.
© 2015 Celestine S. Ikwuamaesi
in the midst of a lush meadow
there stands an impressive sight
a slip of a girl on a giant white horse
poised on the verge of flight
poetic in their beauty
they begin to move
and they appear as one
from head to back to hoove
you can see the giant beast
respond to invisible cues
as he begins to accelerate
to a place just out of view
you begin to sense the urgency
as the pair picks up speed
and you watch the desperation
as she pushes the giant steed
faster, just a lil faster
and it will be all right
all the sorrow of reality
is lost in the midst of flight
just a little harder
we're almost at the end
and the beast gives her everything
on him she can depend
the vision on that meadow
is enough to make a soul ache
watching a free spirit
and her horse make their escape
gradually they slow
his coat glistening in the sun
she leans in and hugs him
and thanks him for the run
looking into his deep brown eyes
she whispers her gratitude
stroking his white mane
they begin to walk on cue
slowly they walk the meadow
as desperation evaporates
leaving bewitched bystanders
in awe at the look upon her face
the frantic pace lost
by the run upon her beast
sorrow left in their dust
upon his back she finds her peace
they stop again and she strokes him
with all her aching heart
and knows he's her freedom
protecting her from the start
he nuzzles her soft cheek
as if he understands
and wants her to know
he's home beneath those hands
swiftly as she mounts him
agile and with grace
they begin to walk the meadow
looks of peace upon their faces
as they reach the meadows edge
they begin to fade from sight
the girl on her magnificent white steed
disappearing in the night
written by: Lori Thomson
contest: Rain, The Story
with squinted eyes and pursed red lips
you
like any little child in time
but that you are mine
ask me..why are we sitting outside
I want to go Inside
to play
your mind cannot yet grasp
the answer I know to be true
that one day a hundred years from now
when we have turned to dust
when you look at his light to Thank Him for your journey
you will pull this memory
out of your heart
like a diamond
glistening in the sun
and say ah..look how exquisite
look how exquisite
Spring Day; Poetry by
Susan M. Walker 2014
I left California a week ago Sunday.
Alone with my map, I found the way.
Initial trepidation gave way to wonder.
Beauty of the land enhances the spell I'm under.
From Novato to Tahoe, the drive was slow.
Allowing the remembrance of freeway driving to grow.
Expecting Nevada to be a long, boring drive.
The high desert vistas permitted my juices to thrive.
The interplay of clear blue sky and the light
Creating wondrous hues and vistas of pure delight.
Drifting along with the tumbling tumbleweeds,
A wide-mouth frog carved in the mountainside winked at me.
A ribbon of highway stretched across the Salt Flats.
Looking more like the desert I expected awhile back.
The Great Salt Lake out of nowhere appears
Glistening in the sun like a clear, shiny mirror.
Turning south in Salt Lake City, a planned detour
The Utah rock stars I wanted to explore.
The landscape changed as ever higher I climbed.
Mesas in the distance of color sublime.
Zion and Bryce Canyons... magnificent to behold
Paled in significance as Route 12's glories unfold.
Each bend and curve created a new scene.
From pure, sheer red rock to pine mountains of green.
Land of the Anasazi, the Ancient Ones.
Lived in Boulder, Utah; an oasis in the sun.
The Escalante Grand Staircase is dedicated to them.
Feeling their energy as I traveled the rim.
Torrey to Moab and Arches Monument Park
The formations of red rocks truly touched my heart.
Guardians, gatekeepers, animals, angels and more
Chiseled in stone that was once the ocean floor.
Petrified sand dunes spread before my eyes.
A white rolling desert of rock under clear blue skies.
Opening again to wondrous chiseled formations.
Natural arches and windows of the mountain nations.
Treated myself to lunch in the “Eklektica Cafe”
Met a young man there who made my day.
He gave me the perfect response to "Why Boulder?”
Tell them, he said, “I'll let you know when it's over.”
Touring now behind me. I'm ready to roll
Heading full-steam to Colorado; pine and aspen to behold.
As I cross the border, I am greeted by a sign.
“Welcome to Colorful Colorado. The Trail Through Time.”
I have come full circle somehow I knew
Driving along, I remembered each view.
While there is no ocean; rivers and lakes abound.
It feels very much like I'm homeward bound.