Best Imagining Poems
The tower of Babel came from the imagination of man
To reach to the heavens was the height of his plan
But God intervened and confused all their words
And different languages thusly emerged
Imagine a song that you once heard
So soothing the melody so lovely the words
Words that will live on through the passage of time
With meaning and emotion sublime
Imagine a poem you're about to write
The words are not yet there
But will soon come to light
An image of letters in flight
If the world was devoid of words
Someone would soon imagine them
And then they'd come to be
Imagination is a most precious gem
Imagination has no limits, it is so deemed
Often catching us in our daydreams
Through the mind's eye we try to see
As we imagine things that are yet to be
Her mind is afar somewhere
...imagining
She's flying with her dragon
He's flying her away to a magical place
Where rainbows never fades and flowers
are forever blooming
They dance and laugh
Twirling in sugar land
But never eye to eye
She's afraid to look into his eyes
Because his eyes have fire burning
...and
She's not ready to burn just yet...
She needs to be able to keep coming back
She's treasuring every moment spend
It's where she finds joy and peace
Until she's gravitating back to her shell
and all is back to grey
Only her mind keeps her busy
...imagining!
Smile
Akkina R Downing
8-16-17
There are some that still crave
The smell of an old fashioned page
The look and feel
Of a bygone age
And there are some that prefer
A Nook or Kindle
That awesome feeling of lifting
A whole library
Without hardly thinking!
Pick a side! Pick a side!
They scream at me
But why bother wasting such precious time?
I could be reading!
Some say that when we die,
our souls soar up and touch the sky,
And even those with songs unsung
across the universe will be flung.
Perhaps to far-off galaxies
or places that no earthling sees.
Can you imagine places that
no one has even heard of yet?
The energy or spark we call the soul
will not end up – I’m sure – in some black hole.
I hope it’s true that we’ll end up in Paradise.
Most would agree that would be so very nice!
But maybe when we die, our spirits fly
and change to brightness in the endless sky,
Imagine if into the great unknown we go
becoming stars whose destiny is but to glow!
Think of other beings – maybe in another galaxy -
in the future looking upward in their skies to see
stars which have been named, and for even me– a misfit,
there is a star with my name on it!
Nov. 9, 2020
For Brian Strand's the 'ALL YOURS (Mar 4)' Poetry ContestContest
I was a child of the 60’s— I marched for peace and love…if I recall
which is why I have a Pablo Stanley poster with his interpretation of my favorite song, Imagine, hanging on my wall…
John Lennon released Imagine on September 9th, 1971…and every January I like to revisit it…as a new year has begun.
As one year ends it’s human nature to look back on the world we see…
then look ahead and try to imagine the world as we’d like it to be.
In 2021 we saw people still dying from a pandemic…as well as on our streets…we saw entire groups of people in the world and in our country still oppressed…
We saw natural disasters, people going hungry…
we saw social upheaval and political unrest.
So I like to imagine a world brimming with balance, equality and symmetry…
where we embrace instead of recoil from our differences…
where we all live free…in peace and harmony.
I imagine a world no longer filled with hungry men, women, girls and boys…a world where we look our sorrows in the face…and turn them into joys.
Perhaps you think I am a dreamer…looking for a world that can’t be found…but I say you are wrong…we can make this happen…all you have to do is look around.
For every story of prejudice and bigotry…amid the sadness and despairing…we find examples of acceptance and respect for one another…of love and generosity… and caring.
For every robbery…every crime…every time an Earth’s resource is depleted…somewhere in the world a tree is planted…a random act of kindness is completed.
For every country fighting wars…for every bomb that they release…there are people coming together in the name of unity and peace.
For every untimely death that sends ripples of sorrow across the Earth…there are ripples of joy that emanate from a newborn baby’s birth.
So you see the proof is all around us…we can change the fate of we the people…and of this planet we are living on…we just need more voices…more dreamers…like me and John.
Dreamers coming together to make our world a better world than it ever was before…
So we won’t have to look back every January and imagine it be different anymore.
I hold back
hiding the gifts I've been given
the curtain opens
but the stage is empty
a hushed audience awaits
but this play has no act
just lots of rehearsing
now actor-less
no applause
no flowers
no bows
I've always held out
not letting go
watching others perform
imagining me
You are the voice within my head
the whisper in my sleep
the second shadow of my soul
the tear I never weep
I hear your laughter in my mind
like raindrops on the ground
but when I ask you what you want
you never make a sound
You are the ghost within my heart
that cradles me at night
I start to think your really here
then you vanish with the light
You haunt me in the daytime
like an echo to my sound
I look about to see you
but know you can't be found.
Brian Strand's Contest: 'OLD OR NEW any theme/form max 16 lines'
1st place
hanging tenuously from tree branch the ripe object of temptation
sunlight peeks through the hill trees signaling arrival of a new day
more a curse than a blessing, less a decision than affirmation
worn leather valise undergoes the rigors of final journey
faded granite marker put in position two hundred years ago
no matter how tight we cling to existence, it shall leave us behind
dark silence of ornate gilded nave constrained angst for generations
always shall be the prospect of something beyond our imagining
hiking along the high trail yields broad vistas of surrounding islands
suffering through the high-pitched howling of a bitter northerly wind
desiring to ensure that the lies which I tell myself are harmless
better a fond memory than just another imperfect being
within life's confines, relevance has ever been a moving target
Where is this peaceful utopia of infinite wonder
I've heard much about? I've followed the call of echoes,
and I've searched far and long into the wilderness
I've looked through the haze of morning mist
and peeked through apertures pierced by sunlight
I've relied on the wind for directions, but they blew me
every which way. I've searched the four corners
of my dreams, to no avail. Morpheus, will you kindly
take me there? I just want to briefly get away
from this world gone mad.
Take me to Arcadia to tour the majestic sights on the back
of a satyr, to soar the peaceful sky with the faeries,
to gaze at the stars there at midnight. Isn't this a place
where the rainbow never leave the sky? I want to know
what the zephyr there feels like!
I want to see the place where bliss and beauty reign supreme.
Isn't this also a place where friends and foes, fools and kings
all harmoniously co-exist? Isn't this a place where the wheels
of pleasant dreams are spun? Take me there, won't you,
Morpheus? It haunts my imagination, and how.
Date written and posted: 11/10/2018
Only in Dreams
The star of one's heart seen in dreams,
is the star of sleeps silver screen.Quote - Poets own
Imaginary love Daphne awaits
Smiling even though her lonesome heart aches
She lives in an unreal dreamlike world
In dreams her hopes start to become unfurled.
Peering through hazy mist someone appears
Daphne is reduced to shed joyous tears
Her dreamboat is a shadowy figure
Ethereal, an emotive trigger.
Trancelike he's sauntering towards Daphne
This moment she's waited for patiently
He is a Prince Charming to say the least
As tenderly he sweeps her off her feet.
Embraced in his arms, it feels surreal
At long last Daphne knows how true love feels.
25th May 2021
Writing Prompt - Dreamlike - Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Constance La France
* *
(Words in bold print are a contest requirement.)
*** IMAGINING (a Devotion Series Poem) ***
My beloved, do you see my eyes
Approaching near to sweet tears
Whenever your intimate touch
Comes — as you brush my hair
or reassuringly pat me twice —
Before
proceding with the tasks at hand,
Leaving me to sit
here, mere steps away?
And, constantly
I begin to imagine
You standing apart from the hour
And purposefully, resolutely
You pass through the room
Into my vision
Of you returning
Through dimensions
To receive my longing…
Always
Stopping for an instant, a step away,
sensing the impetus
of our decades of love.
You go on to slide between me
and all the glaring lights —-
In slow motion —-
You incline toward me…
To fall over me…
Thus in my imagining, nearly
Every time when I see you
Away in your being
in the somewhere else of sleep,
I will imagine you nearing…
For that gentle touch
Through the walls aound my heart —
Even to the thought of us lying abreast,
Held in our combined warmth
As the rythm of our heartbeats pulse
— the one aside the other —
Tranquil
—————————————————————————————————————
(c) sally young eslinger 6/19/2023
Thanks be to God
It’s in the head
The voices no one heard
The screams and yelling of millions nerd
Dragging bodies soak in blood on the ground
The disgust only my heart could feel in dread
Illusionary images on wall like pictures in frame
Voices echoing from inside and outside
It is absorbing yet intense
Broken veins loosing blood to parasite
Dead humans lying in stack
Like chopstick
As heart begin to race and breath is lost
I begin to doubt
If it’s the day of reckoning
When all dead
With or without soul come to life
And bodies’ line in pack
But how do I make my head and heart be in agreement
To the creation of my false thinking
After the Occupational Therapist told me I’d never walk again (see my poem “What She Said”); I was in shock, but my being turned to my ballet days to recall when my legs were strong and I immediately wrote this, while listening to The Butterfly Concerto. It is a poem of my courage.
“THE DANCE OF THE BUTTERFLY”
Oh! How she sparkles through her dance!
Tchaikovsky himself gazes from the stage’s wings
Applauding the height and instants of hesitation
Of her punctuating arabesques. He applauds
With his hands in his pockets, tapping the sides
Of his thighs and a tear of appreciation rises
In his eyes. There can be no doubt she has caught
The audience in her fluttering net, in her crossings
Of the stage so carried by the violin’s sweeps
Of the scales and the flute’s endearing notes
Of imitating a breeze-buoying flight.
But it is the ballerina herself who sets the gold
To crown his composed inspiration as she
Performs a pas de deux with his concerto!
The violin marks each pointe set to her chines.
The orchestra is a narrative riding her eclipses
Of beauty. The timpani exclaims her leaps.
With port de bras, from bow to extending reach,
Her arms become marigold wings...and
Her elan lifts her heart to address the stars.
The young girl, with her head above, yet sunken into,
The soft, cloud-like folds of her pillow, listens
To the riveting Butterfly Concerto sound up
Through the foam of her pillow
(Where her radio will not bother her parents)
...And her shoulders
Slightly rise with each crescendo. She inhales
At the peak of every releve, and, with a lifting of
Arms to barely cross above her head —
In elegant elan — before a rapid circling of the stage.
The music’s tempo mounts to conclusion. She
Takes an instant to feel she is performing her
Best...Surely, oh, surely,
Tchaikovsky, stands rapt
Aside the curtain wings, applauding.
**********************************
by sally Young eslinger 8/25/2020
Thanks be to God!
Yellow, orange and pink were the modern colors of the late sixties.
Stripes were being worn with flowers, and paisleys were big.
Artists were daring new things never dared before in recorded history.
Helping to lead our flexible mindset into the roaring seventies.
Fashion shook the nation almost as much as the Viet Nam war.
Laugh-in rivaled Heehaw’s monopoly on the TV's silliness market.
Many of us felt lucky, being the wrong sex or too young to be drafted.
We were still watching black and white TVs, imagining the colors.
Reality leaves a lot to the imagination John Lennon
IMAGINING ONLY WHAT I REMEMBER
abrupt
the falling
cord’s tight and coiled serpent hiss
reality reverberates into space
imagination
makes haste
fetal position
tethered to a voice uttering no relief
potentiality death
a bright room
the cheerfulness of white walls and too white gown
and death
cheerfulness you say
It keeps our feet from walking
verified
distance has its pride
reality’s long standing in shadow’s neverland
his form’s always there
stretched ‘cross
the bed i’m scared to approach
her purse
in suspended animation while they dance
i long to go back
and see him
but my imagination won’t bring me there
1/13/2021
Sponsor: Emile Pinet
Contest: Suzette Prime
HMS verifies prime numbers