Best Golden Touch Poems
Version 1
Broken souls and disillusioned dreams. Broken toys and angels without wings
Weep for the fallen brothers and infants without mothers
Pained tears encompass the empyreal rays. Pompous worlds painted in a destitute haze
Transmogrified in the iron flood. Transmogrified in the spilled blood
Frightened children flee from the impending devouring wails of the banshees
Captured children drown in the seas for the coming spring's garden poppies
Choked whispers, within frozen forgotten tale’s, the phantom spirits lurking behind the veils
The strong beguiled yearn for their thirst, obtaining the hero’s, plagued curse
A solitary cane and an abandoned house assembled upon soot
A dying hearth and a trembling shadow with crushed raspberries underfoot
Greet the honor, greet the madness, beat the dishonor, win the chalice
Defeat the grandest, apparatus, acquire all the treasure's honored status
Version 2
Broken souls and mutilated dreams
Broken toys and angels without wings
Weep for the vanished fallen brothers
And children without hope or mothers
Pained tears encompass the solar rays
A pained world in a destitute haze
Transmogrified, engulfed by the flood
Swept away and drowned in the spilled blood
Panic children flee from shadows
Spoils feed the seas of young willows
Choking whispers, frozen buried tale
The phantom spirits behind the veil
Strong beguiled only yearn for their thirst
Obtaining the hero's plague's cursed
Wooden cane and the house build on soot
Dying hearth and trembling bloody foot
Greet the honor, greet the madness
Beat the dishonor, win the chalice
Defeat the grandest, apparatus
Acquire the treasured honored status
Updated 5/14/2019
"O summer wants to know just why
You're oft' to chase me off the sky,"
Said Moon to Sun, with teary eye,
"For it's quite up to me ...
To dance the silver sea!"
"Well, Summer winked at me at noon,"
Said Sun, "Thus teasing me to swoon -
We're playing favorites, Mister Moon,
For THIS star misbehaves ...
To dance the golden waves!"
"But that can't be - not half a chance,
I'm made to paint the eve's romance,"
Said Moon, to Sun, with cordial glance,
"Tis lovers wait my cue ...
To dance the briny blue!"
"Yet, wee ones play my shoreline, bright
On hot days filled with laughs and light
In surf," said Sun, "A-churning white,
My shine on waters, cold,
To dance the ocean, gold!"
"Of summer sky, you've twice as much,
I've wished so long, your golden touch,
Still ... I take care of dreams and such,
One silver-shined doubloon ...
To dance the sea!" Said Moon.
"Come on, let's have some shiny fun!"
But came no answer from the Sun,
Now her long summer day was done ...
And Moonie's mischief ... just begun!
~ 3rd Place ~ in the "The Sun And The Moon" Poetry Contest, Chantelle Anne Cooke, Judge & Sponsor.
Just outside the window
a row of coned shaped trees bend their foolish heads
for her attention
She can have her way with them....
yet, with such a wily nature, she passes over them,
and softly treads a path through the garden gate
Her steps are light as dew, as she hesitates to wake a slumbering rose
and timidly brushes past a trellis of sleeping morning glories..
Instead, she slowly slithers through his open window while he sleeps
the angle of her glance makes his closed eyes flutter...
and he smiles....
Her appearance casts shadows on the wall, as she stares across the room at him
She tarries for a moment,
A reflected image on the mirror spreads her silken white cloth...
He feels her move over him
He is kissed by this welcome intruder, hypnotized by her charm, her cool breath
Dazzled by this embrace, he tosses the quilt, in restless dream..
She caresses so softly, filling his heart, and making him sigh...
with her gentle touch upon his face
He basks in her love, and lies in sweet gratitude in his sleepy state
enraptured with sweet contentment
Soaking up and drunk with the radiance of her shine
Outside, eucalyptus branches are jealous
Impatient and longing to feel such affection...
Their branches clammor on the glass, hoping to break her spell...
....But, woefully..
angry clouds intrude to steal away the moment...
She runs and hides!
No longer does he feel the kiss, the sweet lunar touch, her seductive breath...
Coolness, and disappointment envelopes him as darkness returns again...
Her golden touch is gone, and he is once again alone in the shadow of the dark
He must pull his blanket up, and dream of other lovers....
The Past, Our Ancestors Gifted Us As Our Future
There are no words we know, fragrant and green,
Wherewith to show how welcome you have been.
You solaced us with many a song-caress,
O' marvelous was your music's loveliness.
You have called back from the unknown
Lost hours our hearts would fain have held our own.
In your souls life's echoes rang as sweet
As silver bowls dream-children gently beat.
Laughter of harvest lighting and the glee
Of tingly frosty nights ran joyously.
Among our shadowed memories, when you
Revealed the gladness we are born unto.
There are no words swiftly luminous
As those white birds your joy released to us.
Such gifts you bought and freely bade us share
As kings have sought and found not anywhere.
No day will end, all of your days that be
Some far off friend will not have memory.
How you guide us from a dreary road
Into a wide and wonderful abode.
No close will come to any bitter night
But someone will live again delight.
Roused at golden touch of gracious hands
That weave in swallow-flight their myriad strands.
Praiseworthiness our children shall attain
May be no less the fruit of some rich strain.
That once was yours and gladly lingered on,
As love endures, long after you were gone.
So dear ones, fare you well, and nobly well
Beyond the rare things silence has to tell.
12-24-2015
Poem written about this past year and my thoughts as to
what my children ,grandchildren and great-grandchildren will
remember of me. As I remember that of my grandparents and
my ancestors.
Love of my family and my ancestry has made me glad to be alive.
For in all the world riches and times, I would choose no other!
The snow of winter has melted
Spring's warmth a golden touch
Freedom at the creek with the wash
Only through love can hurt be lifted
And if fear didn't flow awash
Of those many harsh words and such
A pensive mood her expression
Deep in thought 'bout her plight
Just a shadow of his presence
Gave her whole being oppression
But this creek her pleasance
A wild garden space a delight
The rhythm of the water's sound
A coolness of the rush
Bare feet being cleansed and massaged
Free space, quiet, thoughts being drowned
Negative being barraged
Babbling and chirping help to shush
Sponsor: Isaiah Zerbst
Contest: An Angel In Disguise
8,6,8,6 syllable count sort of...
Written: February 6, 2015
Liberty is free
For those who take it from me.
Democracy is fair
For those who take my share.
Honesty exists
If the lies are to persist.
As long as they believe,
The truth will not conceive
The vote that you cast.
The wind will break the mast,
System set in stone,
Broken by human tone.
They’ll hand you a crutch,
Instead of Golden touch.
Old guards take the stage,
The notion of bondage
Clearly handed down
To those who have not found
A peace of mind to hold,
A piece to call their own.
Take from me - it’s free,
This thing you call Liberty.
Alluring, beckoning;
brushing each droplet with his tantalising golden touch.
Charmed by his searching warmth,
dewy debutantes
eagerly follow, rising effortlessly from a
field of naive dreams,
giving their virtue to his
heaven sent heat.
Innocence is lost, as
jewels of youth and inexperience,
kissed by his fiery passion,
levitate in brief rapture then disappear,
mourned only by carefree bare feet on a morning stroll.
Narcissistic, he admires his reflection,
over and over,
pearlescent on a gossamer haze of
quivering souls,
replaying the pleasure of a
selfish sacrifice
to satisfy his own thirst.
Unquestioned by nature,
victory is his alone, and though
whispering branches sing softly of
xanadu,
yesterday’s dew knows it never existed.
Zephyrs bring a cool twilight air, laden with tomorrow’s oblation.
Green thumbs are a special gift
Such beauty they create
Not getting mine made me miffed
They said I was too late
I did leave with a talent
The golden touch instead
Within days my green plants went
To golden brown and dead
So if you need a gardener
Please do not hesitate
To tell me, “I’m sorry, Sir,
The job’s filled, you’re too late”
She is my life
She is my joy
I want her all time
I need her all time
I cant live without her
She is my lucky charm
She is my golden touch
The word given to her
Keeps me warm
Keeps me secure
I am blessed
with this god's best creation
that I can never loose
She is my best friend
She is my mother
Love u maa Love u maa
The Love of Visual Art!
By the poets listed after the poem
The beauty born in every stroke he makes.
The master's golden touch paint emulates.
His colours and textures in crafting eye,
His mind in picture, fresh canvas applied.
He paints directly through sharp perspective
A gift to viewers is his objective
Inspired heart bleeds a deeper shade of red
This snapshot of his soul, on canvas bled.
No food or water when he really grooves
Like when planets collide, his paintbrush moves
Absorbed expression seeing over hues
Emotion beats in yellow, green, or blue.
Hints of the Master in soft undertones,
Emphasized brush strokes; Thy beauty is honed.
Listening to music, painting his heart
His work speaks well of him as they depart
A vision he had, his talents to give
His painting a treasure, forever to live
Joy unsurpassed, both taken and given.
Gifts that hands learned, oh, Master in heaven.
CONTRIBUTING POETS ( in Alphabetical Order)
Carolyn Devonshire, Yoni Dvorkis, James Fraser, James Marshall Goff, Abe Lopez, Raul
Moreno, Ruben
Ortellao, Carrie Richards, Dane Smith-Johnsen
Spring Garden
Magnolia Tree at my garden gate welcomes guests.
First spring flower blooms on top and gaily rests.
Witch Hazel shrubs show second spring flower to burst,
spraying shiny golden touch, quenching eyes' thirst.
Delightful Daffodils are my deepest pleasure,
Splendid Spring attribute precious treasure.
Small bulbs of Sciiia in sapphire blossom
ignite azure dream in grief-stricken bosom.
Rhododendron erects arrogant perches with red posies.
Beneath tall Tulips, Muscari bulbs embrace green grasses.
Hyacinths garnish garden gorgeous in color and fragrance.
Primrose is the jewel of garden to perceive just on a glance.
Peonies on hedge shrubs appear in the last scene,
to bid bye to Spring, the Queen of the seasons.
03/21/16
Any couplet as you wish contest Second Place
Sponsor Laura Loo
Way back when
You caught me with your smile
And light sparkled on water
While blossoms scent with our love
We danced in magic
To the tune of our hearts
Melodies hummed in our laughter
Way back when
I was captured by your warm embrace
And the skies became our pillow
We walked on sunshine
With each trip to heaven
Love being our guide
We flew through the skies
Way back when
I was enriched by your golden touch
And the world existed no more
In your arms there was nothing more
than the here,
than the now
You were my all
And the storm clouds came
Thunder broke our flight
Rain would sing no more
And winds of anger shout
Lost we were
Alone we were
But not together though
Today we meet
Hello we sing
We are no longer in When
We reminisce
We closed the lid on that which must be closed
Respect we have
Memories we will cherish
...Of those way back when.
The golden touch of the end- of- Summer-leaves
along with the coolness of the Summer's rays as they fade into the past
Together bring as saddness as if an old friendship is once again lost
As all my Autumns have been painful as the Summer sun does pass
And friendships die along with the heat of the sun and perhaps
they never were real or would last
My heart dreads another year of cold, ice=like pain and the winds
blowing heavy as my pain begins
Again, as only a reminder of how alone I am ..in my thoughts and my in my life
So, perhaps it is near the end.
A hopelessness surrounds me as each day I wake withj fear
how will i get anyplace or where i want to go
And only the quiet of my sleep , where dreams lead me to places i still know
BGut even then, i wake in pain,my body burns with pain
i try to think of happier days but they too have faded with the sun
to be or not to be is not the question here
but do i want to be a part of another year...
i find no joy in singing or talking on the phone
but find i am playing a part of a person that i don't even know
where have i gone and what have i to show in this dust- coated room?
You were lonely,
So was I,
But you had a room for their key too soon.
You don't know me,
Nor do I,
A dark edge of change; a golden touch of hysteria in this gilded exchange.
I hear voices,
Your home cries,
The labyrinth of two men is what we what we falter in.
I was fooled,
You were lovely,
Surreal in a world where blackest thoughts fill dolls and bots.
You almost died,
I love you,
At last I've spoken the truth, a message hid in the forest of my youth.
You look sad
That I've said goodbye,
So I'll burn down these trees and allow your earth to See.
The lone wolf's grave shall ever be my fated will,
no warmth that you loan can dismantle winter's drill.
Out the window pane she stares this day as others gone by. The
Streaming sun on the hay about and around;
Add a golden touch to this dingy room.
Drought she cried her eyes here thinking like a rose she would; but
Glad that cloudy day the bee whirred and had her head snap towards the
Streaking rays that part the grey tenderly.
On her lap her trusted friend sits faithfully from then,
Sharing her secret visions of the day when the
Tunnel will boast of light; a
Dawn when an angel in disguise will ride their way;
Tug them away from this life not of their choice, and so she sits each day -
Clinging with that hidden smile to the hope that sprout that day.