Best Graceful Poems
no more footprint I am flying now
12/26/18
The Last Line Poetry Contest
Silent One
Lavish luscious liaison
Orchestrated obsession
Nocturnal nebulae
Gifted graceful gallantry
Secluded sanctuary
Tiffany telltale turtledoves
Effervescent ecstacy
Metaphysical mascarade
Magically manipulated mandolin
Erotic entanglement
Delectable daredevil demigods
Rhythmic romance rhapsody
Openhearted opulence
Secret sensuous seduction
Exquisite exotic elixir
Sumptuous scent of long stemmed roses
AP: 1st place 2021
Submitted on June 24, 2019 for contest YOUR PERSONAL PERFECT POEM PICK sponsored by BRIAN STRAND - HONORABLE MENTION
"These woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.”
~ Robert Frost
I'm an echo of the salient sea,
weeping in cascading embers
that cautiously creep through
vintage and vine shadows of
a velveteen spirit.
Swept by the corrupt assonance
of graphite seafoam, I float in
obsidian lullabies hummed by the
translucent tides, along darkling
dawns of crepuscular daydreams.
Beautifully blackened in
gold-ochre beams of the
paper sun, wishfully I wither
amidst pale thistles of
decaying dusks as mellow rays
melt in ice-blue vapours of
camphor oceans.
My heart is a severed garden,
strolling as an illusive memory
in perpetual plains of misted ache
and rotten apple-skinned reminiscences.
Laced as a serene embroidery
of turquoise chrysanthemum
weeds in chocolate veins of
marshmallow coffin, I rise akin
cinnabar smog upon cactus-valleys,
For, I'm as elegant as those shiny
fuchsia stars studded along
coral-peacock lawns,
yearning to kiss the ebony silhouette
of crystal-coal midnight.
Will His sapphire fortune
envelop this graceful ghost's
etheree-like shadows
in an emerald-maroon sheath
of pastel herbs and heal every
cell, tangled in cobwebs of confusion,
within shrieking seconds of flaked hours?
Fancy feast
In my best china dish
How she loves to be finicky
Wearing nothing but
Her pretty pink rhinestone collar
As she tiptoes across the room
Slinky and sleek
With a regal air
Ignoring silly bipeds
Life is grand
Prancing around
She owns the place
Published in The Amateur Poets Magazine, Spring 2020
AP: Honorable Mention 2021
How graceful the swan’s pose that circles a quay
Her elegant plumes flitting away,
To dance as night-tide approaches
When furled gait twitches,
In a bold
Pose!
Stars behold
This charm like a rose,
As waltzes on tides enclose
The bloomed poses of her last display.
How graceful the swan’s pose that circles a quay.
“Be like the sun for grace and mercy. Be like the night to cover others' faults. Be like running water for generosity. Be like death for rage and anger. Be like the Earth for modesty. Appear as you are. Be as you appear.”
Rumi
In times of persecution, poems give me butterflies,
but meaningless scribes leave behind silent lullabies.
Life has abandoned me to burn in embers of rage,
now my words are leaving me facing a blank page.
In your soul I placed the catharsis of my poetry,
now I'm exhaling the exhaustion from empathy.
Fate keeps triggering a release of perpetual pains,
I guess we don't appreciate the sun until it rains.
Should I be judged against a typical male stereotype,
suffering from the sins of a macho archetype?
I'm dancing away from fears of toxic masculinity,
you may disagree, but I respect all forms of femininity.
Fields of fairness bloom in my flowery poetic garden,
but some use your words as weapons when their heart hardens.
Many petals die in the pursuit of perfection,
yet we still sow seeds to grow forever flowers of affection.
I refuse to wash my hands in rivers of regret,
we can't wear the same crown with a suspicious mindset.
I can't let destiny drown in those tides of jealousy,
there's no prettiness to pettiness and hypocrisy.
Conversing with tantalizing tears of torment,
composes musical misery with a chorus of repent.
Why sabotage the things you love the most, settling for silence?
Search for a stairway to attain peace and end demonic violence.
Promises of patience are a symphony we'll make,
the mere reflection of me shouldn't cause heartache.
You believe this heart is made of steel and cement,
like artificial apologies and roses without a scent.
In reality we can reflect like rays of a graceful sunrise,
so when you don't doubt my worth, together we can arise.
The leaf of my love fell
in quiet autumn silence
Slowly descending
from the swaying limb
of unanticipated romantic tremors
Caught off balance was
my sense of equlibrium
Shaken by the sight
of a canvas beauty come to life,
I was shook loose from my branch
of librarian solitude
And the twirling leaf of my love
fell so softly into the lap of her open book ...
as she turned the page silently
Thinking,
contemplating ...
She wrote a beautiful passage
in her diary
about me entering her life
with quiet grace
Describing me as a brightly
burnished leaf with the markings
of a tiger lily butterfly,
she said I floated by her
nearly unnoticed —
Until she had to turn the page
of her life
And a slight, silent gust from the
wind of change
caused me to quietly fall into her view
oh, to linger in the alluring sunlit shadows,
the ones that wrap the earth in such a dazzling array of wonder,
while holding it with an enchanting mystery, of an absolute calm . .
.. just to feel peace whispering along the meadows,
as the wind sings a captivating song,
one that cradles a delightful moment,
shining magnificent glory
even upon,
someone like me
______
A graceful sky slips soft in night,
pools of sunset cascade in streams.
Our skin desires moon’s golden light;
we long to dip in endless beams.
I sweep life’s dust from my front stoop
as dusk releases flow of tears.
How brilliant! Night paints starlit loops
to free me from dawn's coming fears.
Come fly with me away from day’s
torrential rays of harshest sun.
Come dance with me as music plays;
in graceful night, we’ll move as one.
I often watch the children’s games
on sunny streets of afternoon,
and dream of our eyes without shame
twinkling in starry night and moon.
Ribbons of love spiral through skies.
as our bare hands hang constellations,
then cling to night with stars' replies
of joyous hearts and adoration.
She was beauty, softness and she was grace.
She was loves maintained, ever giving face.
She was forgiveness in gesture soothing pace.
She trimmed my self-worth with maternal lace.
She was my one dependable home place.
Forever, I will gratefully bear her trace.
Since her late fifties, she has shown much change.
No longer is joy or logic found in her campaign.
She clutches bitterness to allow its reign,
as though bitter be her only lifetime gain.
She seems to fist, produce and seed blame.
She taints the past with cruel words that stain.
How I miss and desire the woman I knew!
She guided me as I grew and after, too.
I long for the laughter that would ensue
whenever we gathered alone, just we two.
I cry for the woman I always turned to
whenever I was joyous, confused or blue.
She is my beloved Mother, and she is not.
My best attempts fail as her remedy sought.
I break in dark pieces seeing her so caught
in the bitter web of resentment’s sick plot.
I know not if karma fated her this distraught
or what spirit truth might loosen her knots.
nature's peaceful Grace
perfect circle drawn by God
caressed by the wind
Intense emotions surged when justice sought
if I defended wrongful witness brought.
Then I was saved through Daniel; nearly caught.
Accused of sins absurd, derogatory words
from people’s tongues not curbed, but gossip which they heard.
Cupidity the driving force behind
the false accusers’ spiteful state of mind.
So rarely friends could then be found in kind.
The tides will ebb and flow as inner doubts still grow;
for balm of ocean’s throw thus right so many lows.
If seen at daily tasks, I’m never fraught.
I won’t let memories my love to curdle.
Some kindness helped recover peaceful find,
depend’n whichever way the wind should blow.
The lilies were excessive.
Bless her, she does her best to
Lift the funerial hush
That's settled on this damned household.
Get them out,
You can't contain their boisterous bloom
To the kitchen alone.
The overspill of white
Does little to obscure the silence they're replacing.
Graceful, disgrace,
Wretch like me.
Princess Matilda had style and grace,
she loved her kingdom very much.
Her graceful demeanor was revered
throughout the kingdom far and wide.
But deep down she longed for more.
So she took a leave of absence.
The King and Queen didn’t understand,
but they consented to her request.
She journeyed to a faraway place,
where her title meant nothing at all.
On her journey, she noticed a shelter
for abandoned underprivileged youth.
She started to volunteer there at once.
While she was there she found herself.
Serving those kids was her passion.
For it was the missing piece to her life.
However, she knew she had to return home.
She returned home with a broken heart.
But she served with style and grace.
Peacock
Bright feathers
Graceful and proud
Rainbow shimmering in sun
Beautiful
Beautiful
Male peafowl
Magnificent courting display
Elegance in every motion
Majestic
Majestic
Iridescent plumage
Tall and slender
National bird of India
Revered
Revered
Timeless treasure
Feathers like blueberries
Loved across the world
Adorable
An elfchen chain
Written 19th January, 2025.