Best Illuminant Poems
When twilight sighs blushing cobalt skies
And evening dons purple on sienna brown
As rainbow colors sprout blazing horizon
And scarlet winds echo intimate bird-songs
Beckoning sensuality of two loving hearts;
Meet me my love, doting illuminant stars--
Let passions waltz in music of romance.
When night adorns constellations above
And moonlit desires glisten your aura
Arousing titillation of your sensuous eyes
Hold me in bliss of your hypnotic trance
As you come closer invoking Shangri-la;
Greet me my love, seducing my response--
Let passions waltz in music of romance.
As fantasies blossom in odyssey of dreams
Seeking sanctuary in paradise of ecstasy,
Courting our story in flirtatious melodies
When you strum beats of fervid symphony
Enunciating words to lyrics of our revelry;
Kiss me my love, crooning tunes of its ballad--
Let passions waltz in music of romance.
Satiated now, snuggling bosom of dawn
Gladly we rejoice its affectionate applause
Pleading longingly for these feelings to last
Igniting their flame for one more glance
As we woo fervor of enchanting euphoria;
Cuddle with me my love, answering its call--
Let passions waltz in music of romance.
June 28, 2020
Poem of the day on June 30, 2020
Placed 1st: Sensuality poetry contest
Sponsor: Silent One
He stands on the slippery crag of Simon’s Seat
has done since time became tradition
from the Lupus a call to the Luna moon
howling at the illuminant of the night.
His descendants thrash the poignant air
a reminder of a fear once gone, forgotten
yet, today there are many still hold them fair
but it is the moon that drives the begotten.
© Harry J Horsman 2018
after “I Wandered Lonely as a Cloud” (also sometimes called “Daffodils”) by William Wordsworth
I wandered weightless as a feather,
a muted plume from mourning dove.
A tuft afloat in breezy weather
connected now to skies above;
as long as winds will carry me
from over fields and out to sea.
My glad esprit more free than birds,
detached from mortal needs I fly,
where spirits long to share their words
among the songs in clouds, I sigh...
for Earth was never this composed,
this high I travel unopposed.
Oh, cumulus! A meadow white,
I feel at home atop its waves
illuminant, in purest light.
Mid savored heights my mem’ry saves
inertia of the clover green
and shiver of the water’s sheen.
Such riches now I do enjoy
in solitude away from fray.
I'm free from living once so coy;
in spirits’ realm I long to stay,
for then, myself I will fulfill
with gild as gold as daffodil.
Muslim who influenced by westernize,
Lost name and Identity, drowned in Occidentalize,
Got accuse of terror and blame of activist,
Oh the Muslim, thou lost thy illuminant,
Thou turn away face from lessons of Quran,
Ever thou remembered the moral of surah Aal-e-Imran,
Betrayed thy self through curse deed,
The Almighty bondman what’s thee need,
Lead thou self toward astray,
Turned attention to infidel way,
Forgotten the worry of last abode,
Repent thy sins by viewing this ode,
Eager thyself of virtue, thirst of hay,
Inertial thought turns thou rough and clay,
Vivify thy self, You the Muslim and still alive,
Strong enough as the pillar of five,
Worldly life is not more than amusement and joy,
Be prepare for hereafter, as you have to die.
Written By
M. Shahid H. Chouhdry
Bahawalpur, Pakistan
All Rights Reserved.
shahid817@gmail.com
Où allons nous? Translation of Oodgeroo Noonuccal’s “Where are we going” by T. Wignesan
Ils sont venus dans une petite ville
Une bande à moitié nue soumise silencieuse
Tout ce qui restait de leur tribu.
Ils sont venus à leur vieux territoire bora
Où beaucoup d’hommes blancs maintenant vont et viennent
comme des fourmis.
La pancarte de l’agent immobilier dit: “Il est permis de jeter
des ordures ici.”
Maintenant les ordures couvrent plus que la moitié du cercle
de bora.
“Nous sommes maintenant comme des étrangers, mais la
tribu blanche est en réalité des étrangers.
La terre nous appartient, sommes nous les héritiers des
vieilles coutumes.
Nous sommes la corroboree* et la terre bora.
Nous sommes de vieux rites, les lois de nos aïeux.
Nous sommes des contes des émerveilles du Temps de Rêves,
des légendes racontées de tribus.
Nous sommes le passé, les chasses et les jeux qui nous font rire, les feux allumés autour de nos campements ici et là.
Nous sommes des éclairs sur la Colline Graphemba
Eclatants et effrayants,
Et le Tonnerre venant après lui, ce gars bruyant.
Nous sommes le lever du soleil silencieux
Illuminant pas à pas la lagune enterrée par la nuit.
Nous sommes des ombres-épouvantes revenant
subrepticement aux feux de campement qui
s’éteignent doucement.
Nous sommes la Nature et le Passé, tout ce qui comporte nos
vieilles traditions
Maintenant en train de disparaître ici et là.
Les broussailles sont détruites, ainsi la chasse et la
rire.
L’aigle, lui, est déjà parti, l’émeu et le kangourou ont aussi quitté les lieux.
Le cercle du bora a disparu.
La corroborée a disparue.
Et nous sommes en train de disparaître.
*An Australian Aboriginal dance ceremony which may take the form of a sacred ritual or an informal gathering. 'Aborigines living in the coastal Kimberley region of Australia's top end sometimes dance a corroboree re-enacting the arrival of dingoes to Australia. (Oxford English Dictionary)
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2016
My fluorescent beauty, with lips so pink and fruity
With a smile that's flawless an cutie
With skin, radiantly silky smoothie
And a kiss, so wet and drippingly juicy
like her melanin sista, illuminant with a glow
All that of a Lioness, let good vibes flow
take notice, this stand out, dreadlock girl
there are many like her, just saying, Wow!
©Copyright September 14, 2008 by Brian Pierre-Alexander
© All Rights Reserved
Centered, I envision my next flux for the illuminant
Deepening each stretch, I angle to the ruminant
Breaths breathed deep, I press into a bent round
Clearing my mind space, hands grasping at the ground
Mornings pass by, entering each one in the same
Renewing by imitating nature's avid, sparking flame
Rhythm artlessly singing, conflict emptied at the door
Consciousness absolved, my bond begins here on the floor
...feeling the wood of this bench pressing on my skin as a child that would like to wander
the streets and venture the alleys that whistle songs of coming forth, but doesn't, cause
the age of this youth still gives fear to not view the world without an adult.
I sit in a motionless trance
and let my eyes sway along the coming sounds of passer buyers
who do not show interest in my still form
for their heads are still filled with the thought of:
bills
money
work
unemployment
the girl that smiled at him the other day
the man that laughed at her when she tripped
the feeling of a rough hand soothing your back after work
intimacy
love
children
loneliness
life
death...
And yet my head does too fill with the same very thoughts, I feel not as often though. My
minds seems to absorb more the sights and sounds of the earth, and also the life; small or
large, alike or different, that goes by my face or behind it.
Just sitting on a bench that was once a tree, that was probably once in thought like I was...
Dazed at the sky for its illuminant colors
the clouds look like marmalade marshmallows
I wonder if Lucy is up there right
in her sparkling diamond gown...
the wind kisses me as it begins to fall into the rhythm of the world and decides to dance
one last wild happy flow of air for the sun, as it slowly but steadily lays his head to rest
but watches lazily of all that is in his presence as he diminishes.
watches the sunflowers bow to his worship
watches the mother crow settle in her nest
watches the children figure how to ask their parents to stay in the park a bit longer
watches the metal candles begin to grimace to turn on for the long hours
watches the watcher, sitting by there lonesome, watching him slowly leave no rays
the chill comes with the moon and I decides to watch her as well
till my lids feel heavy and I soon too, will diminish the colors of light.
PROTECTED BY HIS WORD
In a world that's ever-changing,
Amidst the chaos & swirl life's waging
There's a sanctuary eternal, called ‘His Word’.
This word gives victory over the world.4
In shadowed valleys, on towering peaks,
His promises, to our hearts, it speaks.
Whispers in the wind, echoes in the soul,
His Word a shield, His love the goal.8
Through storms that rage & nights that chill,
There stands a fortress, unyielding still.
Beneath the canopy of stars above,
Wrapped in His grace, cradled in love,¹²
Each word is illuminant & a guiding light,
Turning darkest pathways into night's delight.
Within these pages, truth is sown,
In sacred script, His love is shown.¹6
Like a lighthouse standing against the tide,
His Word, our refuge where we can hide.
No force can breach, no fear can steal,
The peace it offers, so profound, so real.²°
In every line, a sure promise is upheld,
A story of love, absolutely unparalleled.
From Genesis to Revelation's end,
His Word defends, His Word befriends.²4
So let the wicked world in turmoil spin,
For within His Word, we are sheltered within.
Protected by His Word, so vast, so bright,
Guiding us homeward, through the darkest night.²8
?????VICK MANUEL POETRY?????
{VMP}
FORM: Rhymes
Image by: Ronsheka HighlyFavored Johnson
Copyright ©?February 2024.
REFLECTIONS OF GRACE
As we behold Him as in a mirror glass,
We're changed into His image & class.
In the depths of our souls, a gentle glow,
A reflection of grace, that starts to show.
In moments of darkness, we find our way,
Discovering Jesus, like dawn's golden ray.
His love is illuminant, guiding us through,
Unveiling the truths we once never knew.
With each step we take, He walks by our side,
Filling our hearts with a love that won't hide.
In quiet moments, we seek His embrace,
And find solace in His unwavering grace.
His presence, a union of soul and heart,
Ignites a divine fire, such a sacred art.
Within the mirror, we find His embrace,
A reflection of love, shinning with grace.
As we discover Jesus, deep from within,
Our souls align, and new life must begin.¹8
Vick Manuel Poetry {VMP}
Copyright ©? December 2023.