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Best Imagery Poems | Poetry

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The Best Imagery Poems

Details | Imagery Poem |

A Crow's Command

I be a common salty once, no captain's bars, did bear,
Yet blessed was I to venture where few a skipper dared.

From steadfast crow's high perch I watched the bright coast beacons wink,
Through a biting spray's December gale, what goring shoals could sink.

For countless days I rocked atop an oaken spar at length,
As wake and skies conveyed my eyes, Lord Neptune's sullen strength.

Busy dogs, the mates and jacks, bent hard to tasks below,
While toward the sky, with glass to eye, my post waved to-and-fro.

First was I to e'er spot land, my voice, the first to yell,
Aye, first to sight the skull and bone and raise the warning bell.

"Thar she blows!" was oft' my cry, if spied a breach, had I,
And "Friend or foe?!?" the question barked, if strange sails split the sky.

But the moments that becalmed my soul as swells ticked off my time,
Were star-filled nights, a bullion moon, and the phosphorescent brine.

The darkest times were battlements, when the ship groaned in its might,
But never dark, the eventide, sea and sky awash with light!

Quite rare, it was, to find this tar on deck or down below,
And rarer still, did I abdicate my nest there in the crow.

Well, I'm adrift on shore now, with brittle bones and gray,
Yet, my lubber's mind still climbs the mast, to man my post and sway.

I bounce wee kin on knobby knees, and tell them swabbie tales.
Of St. Elmo's Fire and scorching skies, of picaroons and whales.

And when the angels task me to a new and heavenly crow,
I'll bend my gaze to the looking glass, and give a hearty "Tally-ho!"

~ 5th Place ~ in the "2019 Poetry Marathon Mile 5" Poetry Contest, Mark Toney, Judge & Sponsor.

~ 2nd Place ~ in the "Favorite Rhyming Poem Ever" Poetry Contest, Laura Loo, Sponsor.

~ 8th Place ~ in the "Create A Character" Poetry Contest, Cecelia Hopkins-Drewer, Sponsor.

~ 2nd Place ~ in the "Best Rhyming Poem This Year" Poetry Contest, John Hamilton, Sponsor.

Details | Imagery Poem |

Sea Song

Oh precious, dulcet diva, oceantide ... you, of sand and foam
and abundance, all your moods and meanderings speak deep
my spirit, wistful and wan, musings captured, gist enraptured ...

I listen, close ...

On those warm and windy days, your voice cuts clear, carries with
it the joy of sun sprites flitting on wave tops, hopping crest-to-crest
like so many gold pieces tumbling from yawning pockets, laden ...

I listen, rapt ...

Calm days, low tide's drowsy creep ... gentle breaks swish their boughs
ashore, cold brine washing sand and shell and spindrift, like lilt breezes
sweep the grasslands ... rolling, as imagination rolls in the mind ...

I listen, soft ...

Whispering in my ear of the secret dark places in my heart,
exquisite, illusory realms where passion and reverie await, pulsing
with urge, aphotic ... warm, enigmatic feelings that flow and ebb ...

I listen, true ...

An ocean storm's raging beauty, riotous, somber clouds daubed
Payne's Gray, swirl cruelly as Neptune flits his tresses, and sea sirens
lament with angry screams, as their backs are broken on reef and crag ...

I listen, soft ...

Gentle combers sneak up to lick the sand, a waxing gibbous rising to the
lullaby of a bell buoy, its tender peals coaxing the moonlight to a sweet
ballet, velvety beams tiptoeing gently atop, to join the phosphorescent
waterline, (not to wake the slumbering breezes) ...

I listen, sad ...

The gulls and terns laugh at the folly - a man straining his ageing
ears to the song of the tides that he loves so utterly, the most divine
and elegant aria known, with a voice so immortal and pure, so dark and
deep and ageless, that it will croon on, long after there is naught ...

Left to listen.

~ 3rd Place ~ in the "2019 Poetry Marathon Mile 7" Poetry Contest, Mark Toney, Judge & Sponsor.

~ 1st Place ~ in the "New Poems Only" Poetry Contest, Emile Pinet, Judge & Sponsor.

~ 2nd Place ~ in the "Voices" Poetry Contest, Silent One, Judge & Sponsor.

Details | Imagery Poem |

Puppets Of Hell On The Stage Of Life

Upon the stage of life
there are many puppets of hell.
Their bright costumes conceal sin and strife
and beneath them deception does dwell.

Their lines are a demon inspired script.
They put on a convincing act.
Many souls over their lies have tripped.
It truly is a sad fact.

They call good, evil and evil, good.
Their footwear is the hypocrite’s shoe.
If it’s possible they really would
like to slip that charlatan sandal on you.

Masters are they of façade and guise,
sometimes robed as angels of light.
They prey upon both simple and wise.
To turn men from truth is their delight.

Perhaps it’s a hand puppet or a marionette
dancing to the beat of a diabolical drum.
Their deceptive doctrines some never vet,
and to fabrication they thus succumb.

If their mantras you cannot tolerate,
if you don’t embrace them fully,
puppet voices they’ll raise while they are irate.
They’ll call you a bigot or bully.

There is one sure cure that we have today
to keep ourselves from being shook.
Check out the lines that they boldly say
‘gainst God’s Holy, infallible Book.

If you see through those serpentine soliloquies now,
and things aren’t as they have supposed,
don’t allow the moppets their final bow.
Let the curtain on their drama be closed.

9/21/17

Details | Imagery Poem |

WORKSHOP POEM: GRAND TOUR TO FAIRYLAND

WORKSHOP POEM: GRAND TOUR TO FAIRYLAND


Sprinkled-rainbow clouds reign above the skies,
peeping yellow in-between wrinkled pillars 
shine like bulbs to crash the net of fog
attached to curve hands of green Cathedrals.

A carpet of bluebells and daffodils
covers the earth below. Creeping slow are mosses
and vines hugging the trees. Polka dots 
of blood rich roses stand out.

Festoons of lavanders, garlands of lilacs
marched a primrose path for the queen 
while the fruits from cherries' hush blush;
to peaches supple flair winks on mellow pear.

Afloat midair are high and low golden notes 
trembling free upon river runs and bushes land.
Snaps and bounds from strums of bumblebees;
signal the nightingales to sing their anthem loud;

Their thumps of dulcet-sounds shake the hours.
Scents pure as Spring May cocoons the fair
while all around swirls the dragonflies--
the star dancers of the sun-kissed day.

Rushing wind whistles a lullaby to cast
a spell of never-never-land, for there live...
thumb-size flying creatures of their kind.
Regal in blinding white are the fays and fairies.

__________________________________________________
NEW TITLE: 

MY TRIP TO FAIRYLAND


Rainbow-sprinkled clouds marching above the skies,
Sun's golden rays peek in-between curved hands
of lush green Cathedrals crashing the net of fog  sleeping on the ground.

A carpet of bluebells plus flashing violets
exhale scents on the air. Sly-like mosses and vines
hug the trunk of trees. Polka dots of blood rich 
roses pose, standing grand.

Festoons of lavanders, garland of lilacs,
swelling banana blossoms, cherries hush-rush blushes
with peaches winking flair on frowning pears all prod
to honor the queen.

High and low golden notes tremble free upon river runs 
to proud bushes land. From strums of bumblebees
are leaps and pounds, luring nightingales'anthem
on a merry-dancing groove.

Thumps of dulcet-sounds shake the passing hours,
Rainbow hues cocoons the fair while all around dragonflies
twirl and dive-  they, the star-dancers of that sun kissed day.

Impressed wind whistles the lullaby spelling
never-never-land, for there... there live.. thumb-size flying creatures
regal in blinding white-- are the fays and fairies.

______________________________________________
POEM OF THE DAY ---April 07, 2015

©O.E> Guillermo
9:52 pm, April 05, 2015

Details | Imagery Poem |

My Solace, A Poet's Thoughts on Poetry

The wonder of nature you describe with the color of feelings 
that even the blind sees the beauty, for you anoint with your sight.
From my forgotten core, words you inspire gush forth in indignant prose
like the lion who protects her young, who roars in warning lest she devour.

You lend me insight from your wisdom and give me laughter with your wit,
you pump the pulse in my veins when passion and sensuality is lit.
You kindle the fire in this heart when love is found
and collect the ash from the burnt cinder that haunts, when love is lost.

You hold my breath in exhilaration when I soar to triumphant heights,
the balm that soothes my pain when I’m down, your song remains
the solace I have found when life is hard, and the one profound
expression of the myriad emotions that defy words of common use.

O Poetry, you bring tears to my eyes, when in your lines I feel God cries
as I endure and withstand the ugliness, the haughtiness, of someone’s pride.
Yet with the turn of page and time, you coax from my lips such radiant smile
for with each stage in this life of mine, a poem is birthed, flutters, and flies.




24 May 2015
Poem of the Week - 31 May to 06 June 2015
Awarded 1st Place for both A Poets's Worth Contest  and My Favorite Poem Contest

Details | Imagery Poem |

Take Me Somewhere Exotic

The pungence of heartbreak swelters
in the tangled dreadlocks of love-lies-bleeding
Take me somewhere exotic
to breathe not the foul aroma
of disappointment and despair
Show me fields laced with frangipani and orchids
in colors sweet and light as daydreams
Find me seafoam fields poppied
with pomegranate and honey 
opium of jasmine lilting on a leeward drowse
delicious sift of sand drifting
warm and soft between my toes
as coral breezes court flamingo scapes
with pina colada suns
and I drift in and out of hibiscus euphoria
Let a mist of cockatoos flutter
in lapis skies puffed with fat feather clouds
parrots and toucans preening
like a rainbow shimmer
Tingle my pineapple senses
through the afterglow of mango afternoons 
Create visions of paradise
in the cerulean of hyacinth
and never bring me back

7/19/17

Details | Imagery Poem |

Sunday Morning - me singing -


Sunday Morning

Piano intro:

Verse:

Can you see the sun is shining down
On Sunday Morning, on Sunday morning
Can you feel the rain upon the ground
On Sunday Morning, on Sunday morning

Can you feel the wind upon you face
Did you know that time is not to waste anymore

Verse:

Can you hear the trees the wind is swaying
On Sunday Morning, on Sunday morning
Can you hear the song the birds are saying
On Sunday Morning, on Sunday morning

Can you feel the wind upon you face
Did you know that time is not to waste anymore


Chorus: 

There is so much out there waiting for you
Take a breath of fresh air deep inside
All the things provided by the father
No sense for you to run and hide.

Can you feel the wind upon you face
Did you know that time is not to waste anymore

Verse:

Can you hear he’s calling out to you
On Sunday Morning, on Sunday morning
There is so much more that you can do
On Sunday Morning, on Sunday morning

Can you feel the wind upon you face
Did you know that time is not to waste anymore

Chorus:

There is so much out there waiting for you
Take a breath of fresh air deep inside
All the things provided by the father
No sense for you to run and hide.

Verse:

Can you hear the little children crying
On Sunday Morning, on Sunday morning
Can feel the flowers are you trying
On Sunday Morning, on Sunday morning

Can you feel the wind upon you face
Did you know that time is not to waste anymore

On Sunday morning, on Sunday morning (Repeat)

Details | Imagery Poem |

Starlit Diva

My mind has wings and wants to fly
into galaxies where stars streak.
Aloft on whispers and a sigh
a hint of stardust on my cheek.

Into galaxies where stars streak
northern lights' neon gives me flair,
a hint of stardust on my cheek
starlit diva with solar hair.

Northern lights' neon gives me flair
through cosmic currents I do wing,
starlit diva with solar hair
enjoying my celestial fling.

Through cosmic currents I do wing
aloft on whispers and a sigh,
enjoying my celestial fling
my mind has wings and wants to fly.



~ 4th Place ~
Contest: End July Premiere 2017
Sponsor: Brian Strand


Susan Ashley
July 23, 2017

Details | Imagery Poem |

Midnight Romance

Midnight Romance

Dusk falls quickly on cerulean skies
Day morphs from ash of roses to sable
Our love's vision flashes before my eyes
Midnight romance, like an ancient fable

Charcoal sketches meander in my mind
While jasmine-absinthe incense is burning
it's smoke, evokes passions clearly defined
porcelain skin blushes with love's yearning

Obsidian-ebony eyes that gleam
pleading to quench needy soulful desire
beckoning me to unite in the dream
willingly, I rush to put out the fire

My mind's eye sees quivering crimson lips
As love drips from ivory fingertips




October 18,2017

Details | Imagery Poem |

Abandon

Abandon through the flowing blue ice streams, 
          then rise to thirsty trees and fields of dreams. 

Abandon in the beige fields of Indian red autumn, 
          skeletal keepers lean from the fragrant ledge then forgotten.

Abandon through the weaving champagne sunbeams, 
          stairway to nirvana, most transient gleams.

Abandon in golden salamander orange, that hath, 
          set archway of pendulous amber stipule path.

Abandon in the summer sky blue waterfall, 
          frond through the echoes, grayish fog call.

Abandon in   lichen depth and pinnacle spears, 
          bent and rooted in the brown, in deaf ears.

Abandon in liquescent hands, in its melancholy vale, slowly unfurl, 
          meeting once more in a dying golden pearl. 

Reaching for the stars, yet the soul hath life diviner. 
          Let it sooth my bleak sorrow and my ashen sin, a love finer.


  6/26/2018

Details | Imagery Poem |

TO THE FLOWER

Your scent beckoned my weeping heart to painless flight;
amidst a garden where God dusts His pretty love.

Spring tints are pure and fragrant, free of guilt
Your hues painted another sunrise for my eyes;
when once I failed to catch the pledge of morn.
A seed of hope was born to white petals blush.
Though there are silhouettes of bitter yesterdays
must all the phantoms of illusions fade and leave...?
Your floating aroma stirred and shot my nerves;
inspiring a nightingale to sing some joyous laments;
It swayed with grace to dance on wind's despotic beat.
among the rustling leaves which hug the earth below;
So like the sun, which from distant horizon smiles;
it roused the sleepy world to begin the pen of baby prose.

The unfolding mystery of your petals brought
my bewildered mind to peacock's reflection.
Alas! All was transient. These eyes probe beneath
but were blinded by the intrusion of some stray shine;
Ambitions which from afar are building sprout;
t'is that which let this self to irksome doubt.
Lovely blossom of the wild, this sojourner nigh
to tame your perfume's sweet stinging scent.
A restless soul by some wicked, destiny pokes;
someone called--- but pity, I couldn't tell a note.

If by magic, a butterfly I could become;
Let it be over my being slowly span.
Then with you
(though the specters in our midst are fierce),
I could jet fly though miseries without fear.
But am just a mortal of faith that blows this wish
for only covenants call for my journey still?
I cannot be forever the one who would share your sweetness;
(Harken, fairies of blooms, this wilderness is not my lair.)
I shall not want to witness you wilt as no time left to stay.
Never again will you see me at day-break's bloom,
save something special for others to experience you.
This fleeting apparition I so adored;
promised me burgeoning petals.

"Be not afraid as seasons change,
beyond today, I won't be here to see that no harm
be done with all intentions to your sacred charm.
As today,
I leave you to Mother's Nature tender care,
for I must go to some greater musing-- heaven's ground.
Wilt not, as soon the rain will dash, refreshing you my dear.
If I return someday--

will your sublime scent still be here?"
__________________________________________________________

Your Best Poem - Poetry Contest
Sponsor Shadow Hamilton
~~3rd place~~

Free Verse, Prose Poetry, haibun - Poetry Contest
Sponsor Debbie Guzzi
~~2nd Place~~

POEM OF THE DAY: October 21, 2015

Inspired by Susan Seddon Boulet's painting:
-----http://media-cache-cd0.pinimg.com/236x/1d/c4/37/1dc437f88c0cfb2fbcc9333bd35bb8c3.jpg

Details | Imagery Poem |

My Heart Skips a Beat My Love

My heart skips a beat my love each and every time 
I’m with you my dearest sweet and lovely Darling
Since the passions and feelings you stir in me
Touch the very depth of my inner being and soul
And render themselves not to mere words only
Suitable for depiction, exhibition, understanding
Rather to the image and strength of your beauty
And your rapturous desire and feeling as they
Defy rational attempts at any simple description
For you are the most radiant beyond all compare
	
My heart skips a beat my love when we lie together
Locked in a most enchanting embrace and kissing
So deeply, palpably that we run out of breath and pant
Anxiously at what comes next in our mutual longing
And crescendo as our passions explode and express
Themselves in a most hungry trail of urges and desires
Which makes finding love for us all the more magical
Pairing us together like a couple of star-struck kids 
Lost impossibly in moments of hope and imagination 
In a timeless world of love, desire, emotion, and oneness

My heart skips a beat my love when we walk so closely
Hand-in-hand talking, laughing, and living our dreams
Confronting the world and taking on whatever comes
Next as we steer our ship of destiny on a true course
Where our like-thoughts and deep love for each other
Mean something quite special that only Dreamers and 
Poets can imagine and set to melody and harmony in perfect 
Verses of sheer passion and delight painted onto a canvas  
Of unending happiness where Heaven and Earth are one
My heart skips a beat my love when we’re forever one

Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved
(November 5, 2014) (Free Verse)

Details | Imagery Poem |

BLACK MAGIC WOMAN


Madame Mistress, ebonies princess,
Southern comforts golden jewel,
A golden beauty down south does dwell.
She hides many secrets beneath her,
Glittering mask of mystery's mystic spells.
A dark priestess is this Cajun queen,
Black widows magic women,
Known as Ms. New Orleans.
In her crimson gown, trimmed by
Velvet's purple hues, she smiles
Behind her white lace fan.
A beguiling angel is she the devils
 Own kindred.
The voodoo queen of the swampy delta,
Ruling over the shadow demons,
Whom guard the everglades.
Underneath fancy face and social grace,
Lies the misbegotten heart of a
 Witches soul.
Here the trumpets sound at,
La Carnival as minstrels stroll,
Down Bourbon Street with rhythmic,
Precision's precise step.
Come join in celebrations grand parade,
The Maude Gra. Where anything goes,
Here things are forgotten as the sun rises,
This grand lady of beauty's legacy's charm.
Presses one finger to her redden lips,
Speaking not more than a hushed whispers
Sigh carried across bayou.
Thus does the Spanish moss weep, for
Those lost souls swallowed whole,
Beneath nights dark covenant of death.
Ghostly images walk the muddy side shores,
Phantom spectators existing as prisoners,
Trapped in limbos web, a thin fine line
Between the living and the dead.
Beware lone travelers, those for whom,
Seek mysteries glamor and mystic,
Of the southern by ways.
All are welcome to taste our spicy
Hospitality.
Yet beware pay homages respect,
To Mz. New Orleans, she after all takes
Great care of her own.

BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN

Details | Imagery Poem |

Callused Fingers

Callused fingers press vibrating strings
drawing passion from a violin.
And with burnished wood snug to his cheek
the violinist plays from its heart.

Subtle vibes saturate my being
as crying strings elicit feelings.
And expounding on love’s betrayal
music stirs the imagination.

His bow hangs like a lingering kiss
savoring the taste of ecstasy.
And then with tears trickling down his cheek
he unleashes unbridled fervor.

Experiencing pangs of rapture
sound slips the bonds of reality.
And as each note penetrates my heart
it ignites flames of fire and passion.

Details | Imagery Poem |

An Ebony Tether

A scarlet sun singes the edge of earth
as stillness swiftly spreads over the ground.
And receding rays give shadows their girth
swallowing the last lingering light found.

Twilight fades as darkness begin to creep
loosely leashed to an ebony tether.
And from the undergrowth there's not a peep
as dusk gathers stray shadows together.

As the day shuts down stars begin to show
glittering against a backdrop of black.
And as tides in cobalt skies ebb and flow
darkness welcomes the flickering lights back.

Shadows shackle silhouettes to the night
awaiting dawn and the first rays of light.

Details | Imagery Poem |

Agony And Ecstasy

Cascading waves wash ashore
tickling our toes as we stroll.
And moonbeams
set a thousand jewels sparkling...
upon the shoal.

Smiles summon sweet emotions
as we walk upon the beach
hand in hand
under a starry sky...
Pausing,
to build castles in the sand.

Romantic sparks ignite flames of passion
by a tranquil sea,
and fledgling souls unite
for eternity...

Hopes and tears
equally shared
define the essence of living.
And yet love offers a joy
reserved for fantasies
and dreams...

Agony and ecstasy meld
to greet each hungry kiss.
And consumed by desire
we've never felt a love...
quite like this!



Written 09/18/2016

Details | Imagery Poem |

I've Never Heard Snow

I've never heard the sound of snow
nor dawning's oboes crooning light,
yet witnessed angels' trumpets blow

and chimings of the flurries grow
as alabastrine wings take flight.
I've never heard the sound of snow

when cello strings caress the bow
of morning at its burnished height,
yet witnessed angels' trumpets blow

a salmon cirrus cameo, 
diaphanous and opalite.
I've never heard the sound of snow,

piano in the afterglow
of sunshine's brittle fahrenheit,
yet witnessed angels' trumpets blow

ebullient through the chorals' flow
'cross winter's operatic white.
I've never heard the sound of snow,
yet witnessed angels' trumpets blow.

Best Imagery Poems | Poetry

The Best Imagery Poems

One Brief Moment

The last goodbye

The Glory Of The Eastern Edge

One Green Leaf

View It From Afar

Other Side of the Wall

Yesterday's Fragile Truth

A Crow's Command

My Inner Voice

Sea Song

Puppets Of Hell On The Stage Of Life

WORKSHOP POEM: GRAND TOUR TO FAIRYLAND

My Solace, A Poet's Thoughts on Poetry

Take Me Somewhere Exotic

Sunday Morning - me singing -

Starlit Diva

Midnight Romance

Abandon

TO THE FLOWER

My Heart Skips a Beat My Love

BLACK MAGIC WOMAN

Callused Fingers

An Ebony Tether

Agony And Ecstasy

I've Never Heard Snow