Best Indelibly Poems


Premium Member Bluewing Falling

Her magic is drawn 
from an ocean's 
million hues 
reflecting 
boundless skies

slain by her trembling perfection 
you grab hold of her 
to save yourself 
 
and you do not mean her any harm 
you just want to feel what azure feels like
to experience the depths of cerulean 

but her cobalt dust 
rubs off all over you 
your being  

indelibly indigo stained 
  
as the beauty you wished to possess 
lays crushed 
at your feet




July 13th, 2018

How I Miss You

I miss you 
With every longing breath
That pants in sweet silence.
With every insatiable spark 
that ignites my being
And with infinite tears of all my life
That glides down the empty spaces
Of my mournful soul.

For each lifeless day 
Seems like a thousand years
Of wondering hopelessly
Endlessly
Helplessly
On this cruel world
Without your tender kiss
That thaws the frost within my heart.

As the winds hold the last
Sweet myrrh of your lingering scent
That sates not this deep hunger
Crawling in my bones for you
Amongst the fragrant scarf
Of tomorrow's promise 
That you left behind
Imprinted indelibly
On the script of my heart. 

Each star becomes a diamond
Leading to your eyes
Each lilac wave draws a melody 
That inks my heart
With a memory of your love.
Life and breath has lost its meaning
Days are the footsteps to eternal silence
That invades me in shivers of night.
Amongst the mist of mortal pain
I've made my grave of sorrows
On every flowering field
That reminds me of your absent smile
Dawning warmly in my eyes
With a sweet descent 
That only heaven makes.

I cast a thousand tears 
In a silver bottle
On the wavering seas
That it would find you
Because I die! I die! I die!
Endlessly,
Hopelessly, 
Eternally
In your absence
Because my dear beloved
I miss you....

Premium Member The Dilatory Thought

Blessed in abundance that manifests in our 
stressed daily interaction with our fellow man, and the sincerest 
form of our inner wellbeing is the outpour of laughter.
Dormant in the face of adversity, while we empathise with 
modern populace at large and try to bring some 
modicum of humanity and relief of the pain. 
We’d all experience this from time to time and this is 
seed of essence in our reality that is forever fraught.
Felled by ulterior motives – punished like Sisyphus by our 
fellow peers – as the dulcet tones of compliments, the sweetest 
wrung encouragement that soothed our souls like songs 
sung at our cradle; the melodies now forgotten. They are 
symbols indelibly edged into our subconscious and those 
cymbals that tend to want to drown us out so that 
we spin in the vortex, but vector us towards the stories to tell.
Be it to explain the tumultuous emotions raging beneath the surface of 
our designer exterior – this is by far the saddest
hour and we, eventually, rather opt for the dilatory thought.

Our sincerest laughter
With some pain is fraught;
Our sweetest songs are those that tell of saddest thought.
    Percy Bysshe Shelly – To a Skylark


Premium Member Cosmic Dust

Since time immemorial across the Universe—
Traces of my vapor, my dust trails, my footprints, my being
Light up the skies of innumerable planets etching themselves
Indelibly in the consciousness of the stars and making visible
Impressions in the cold continuum of deep dark space.

I’m mere particle matter—in reality, an iota of infinity that
Continues its travel through time and space and all dimensions
Visiting the vast frontiers of the Universe while leaving minute
Traces of my Cosmic DNA.

I’m part of the Universe’s great existential family—
My quest is to travel, to arrive, to be one with everything I touch,
And to savor a continuous divine purpose. 

What unbounding possibilities there are as I traverse the far 
Outreaches of dark space on Flight Paths of Eternity.

And sometimes I’m a part of rainbows that kiss the Face of God.

Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved (March 24, 2014) 
(Free Verse)

Premium Member Vicissitudes of Spring

Raindrops sprinkle spent dogwood petals on the lawn 
While tiny bluebirds perch in nearby mulberry, stalling, 
Awaiting the drizzle’s end, fussing at a week-old fawn 
Who grazes unaware sharp crystal droplets are falling, 
Raining down like tiny sharp fragments of shrapnel. 
Afternoon planting, too, must wait ‘til morrow’s dawning 
Lest fragile seedlings, soaked through, hear death’s knell, 
Rotting from the roots, fall over, their life withdrawing 
The vicissitudes of spring promise both life and death: 
The mingling of joy and sorrow, reflected in nature here 
On my lawn, in my garden; mirroring life’s fragile breath, 
Proper Mother Nature making her message indelibly clear.


Ranked 54th in Poetry Soup's 100 Top Poems

Premium Member The Heart Knows What The Mind Doesn't

Believing in you is
Being just you, the simplicity of you
Embracing each twist and turn
Stepping outside the confines of your mind 
Revealing truths and bringing clarity in chaos
Engaging in the art of the here and now
Changing dark unnecessary innateness
Diving into each brushstroke, swaths of colorways 
Letting the moment paint a masterpiece uniquely yours
Freeing up the shackles of the mind
Feeling compassion of heart and soul
Taking a voyage to the center of universal reality~
Shedding many prejudices indelibly embedded in thought
Unmasking anxieties that do not change the world,
serving only to distract causing mental coil
Trusting your instincts is your compass
Off putting, although valuable truth may be 
a diamond amidst pebbles
Experiencing every morsel of life’s banquette
© I Am Anaya  Create an image from this poem.


Premium Member Beauty Abides

BEAUTY ABIDES

Beauty abides, and as her lover, 
I lift her veil to see transparent eyes glimmering
with an enticement worthy of seduction.

Touching some primordial passion, 
she wreaks havoc on my senses.
And graces me with unspoken words 
that promise delightful pleasure.

Beauty reigns as Queen supreme. 
Upon her throne she emanates majesty
with an exquisite demeanor and 
I stand back intimidated and shy. 
Who can reframe this emotion? 
Not a poet or artists brush.

Her soft rolling hills and gentle valleys; 
expectations of undiscovered treasures
fire an imaginative pose
I am bound up in a mystic rush 
that dominates like a drug's addiction.

And in a exotic haze I lie dreaming 
of ephemeral caresses,
highly charged currents 
that flow unrestricted around 
her coveted reactive spaces. 

Alone, with thoughts in time displaced, 
I wonder, does she entrance all others? 
Or in my silent muse am I the only one 
transformed and felled by her abstract beauty?

Her allure is enduring, enshrined for all to see. 
The recherche picture of her memory 
never grows old and she still remains 
indelibly imprinted on my erotic mind. 
  
CAK 
10-12-2012   Revised 9-25-2013 

SYNOPSIS
A question for you...

1.) Is the poem about a woman?
2.) or is it about a beautiful mountainous valley?

Premium Member supernova -

you ...

redeemed me
from the belly of a star
ripped me ragged from a
hydrogen-helium core
spinning, divergent, toward sentience
from solitude ... howling
I did not ask for that existence
the blasted, bloody boon of banality
but it was mine, nonetheless
(now ... madness)
we merged -
a flailing vortex of cosmic clusters in entropy
prolific and sensually insane
indelibly charged in
our dynamism
transformed in a maelstrom
of wild wonder and molten mania
a cacophony of
carnal chaos and hunger
fused, like the heavy elements
we are radiated gravitons ...
the light-devouring
attraction of black oblivion
the imbalance of ions at constant -
a non-baryonic notionality
vagrant, erratic neutrinos unbound
we are ...
dark matter …

us.







~ 1st Place ~  in the "Best Free Verse From November 2018" Poetry Contest, Lu Loo, Judge & Sponsor.

Lies of Perfection

in the night, he reaches, my body responds, aching to be near 
yet the mind screams, pulls back inside its deep recesses
familiar pain rears, sits nonchalantly, laughing, taunting me 
is it I who am loved or am I just involved in the act of love 
the end justifying the means, a single moment, a brief interlude 
conveniently remembered and enacted, how can one truly tell? 

I opened my heart and yet I know, I'm not what he was looking for
the knowledge leaves me cold and saddened, ice forming around my core 
rejection, inferiority, second best, all words that accurately describe 
yet leave no telltale signs of the great pain that they have inflicted 
reality and yet my hands roam freely his body as I welcome him inside 
to lie buried deep within my being, my heart beating furiously

the sheer joy of being loved blocking out the fear, feeding on hope 
even if his emotions are not real, every fibre of my being yearns 
to one day capture all his love, to see it expressed in his eyes 
to silently carve my essence indelibly upon his heart,
to feel it in his smiles warmth, as his eyes adore each curve  
the knowledge that says you are mine and I will love you always 

everyone wants perfection, those that know that they are not 
nor ever will be the one, suffer from the lies of perfection 
so here I lie, accepting the very little that is being offered 
praying to someday find more, existing in that in between world 
between shadow and light, where nothing is clear, everything is shaded
needing to be perfection to someone, as I breathe deeply with eyes drifting into 
my dreams, helplessly staring across the bed of my future

Off the Shelf

I've been sitting up here day after day and months on end, and please, let's not talk about years. I watch you stare at me when you think I'm unaware. I see you vacillate between life's mundane and the big, beautiful me, and oh, how I cringe when you buckle to those artificial fears.

This old, stale dust has covered me, concealing my illustrious shine. Please know I am forever in your heart and indelibly in that beautiful mind.

You were made imperfectly, but you have been so faithful. I've seen your long nights and slow days. Oh my! What we can and should be is so bountiful.

It is no accident that I was born in your heart and aggrandized in your mind. Come on now, take me off this shelf, and clean me up. The world is waiting; let's get in line.

The bumps, accidents, detours, and road construction along the way enticed you to put me back on this darn shelf. Sure, we have had to remap a time or two or three. But this journey must continue; we have our help.

I see the cuts, scrapes, bruises, mental anguish, pain, and frustration you bear. But you're still standing, so take me off this shelf, and let's get there.

I'm still waiting! But don't make me wait much longer. It's time to eat; let's feed this born hunger.

Poof! Poof!

Premium Member Across a Crowded Room

Beauty is something we see
with individual eyes,
deep within our soul,resides
attraction,waiting ,asleep
yet longing to be aroused;

Our need to be recognised,
a desire to recognise,
reciprocate and hold close
subtle scents,inherent and
so universally held;

A certain something unique,
intercourses between eyes,
a novel read by a glance
in seconds,might last a lifetime
indelibly imprints,love;

Only time,can reveal
imperfections of conceit,
when ego retreats and
aborts the frail foetus in
pools of recrimination.

Written On Your Face

Ahh!
peering out, 
never in 
your words are whisper thin 
like willow-silk spun 
drying parched 
on your skin

Ahh
but I read you very clear 
every word every fear
indelibly etched
nose, mouth, eyes
words, words, words
Lies, lies, lies

blink once and I'll cease
or period 
full stop
bleed 
inside each crease,

it's your face, i see!
beautiful
it emasculates me 
disempowers me
tirelessly 
sees through me,

I have no words for you 
my love...
they're gone... not a trace 
I could save myself,
the agony of speech 
and just peel them off your face

Premium Member In My Life's Peaceful Interlude

In My Life’s Peaceful Interlude

Midlife for me was a peaceful interlude.
After my children left the nest,
there had been a climax of sorts.
Poetry had come; it flowed to me.
I’d spend long afternoons in sun’s warm glow,
happily attacking sheets of paper with my pen.
In my life’s interlude, I felt formidable -
as though I could live another fifty years. . .
and all would be well.
How I wish this feeling were immutable!

One evening visiting a nursing home,
I beheld an elderly lady sitting demurely at a table.
Her image was a graceful sketch in grey
which imprinted itself indelibly on my mind.
As she sat, so well-composed, although her hands trembled,
I noticed her frailty and how brittle her old bones had to be,
yet there she sat, this aged woman, lighting up the room
as she smiled at me!

I have always felt life to be tenuous,
but examples of that are coming faster now
as my old friends and acquaintances vanish from the earth.
Trials of my own have now assailed me,
and still I write and wonder. . .
Should I somehow manage to live a century
as that old woman surely had done,
and should I become bereft
from the inevitable losses the future is sure to bring me,
might I sit and manage as gracefully as she
a brightly lit-up smile for a passer-by?

Nov. 3, 2017 for John Hamilton's 'Eight word challenge -5' Poetry Contest
Words used in the poem: 1. Brittle 2. Immutable 3. Formidable 4. Tenuous 5. Interlude 6. Sketch 7. Bereft 8. Demurely

Premium Member I Died a Little Inside

Taking my place in your gazing blue eyes
Who stole the glow of my dawning sunrise?
As defiling your virtues you obliquely lied,
Pounding my heart till I died a little inside.

When a brilliant sunny day said goodbye
As lightening arrived to thunder blue sky
Storming my life, you left me teary eyed
Exacting high price by forfeiting my pride.

Reluctantly I disclaimed your sweet smile
As your blatant animosity put me in exile
And adulating ill-will you ceded to hate,
Trampling on destiny you altered my fate.

On my horizon cried your reign of disdain
As you rejected goodwill again and again.
Remnants of aspirations no longer claim
A desire of passions to reignite our flame.

Meaning of love soon indelibly changed
Revoking your name from souls estranged.
Hurt still remained, woefully pacified--
Lingering listlessly, till I died a little inside.

February 9, 2019
Placed first:Early March 2019 contest by Brian Strand
Placed second:I died a little inside contest by Silent One

Premium Member Mourn Tapestry

The icons are falling
As idols are rising
Perhaps for their gifts
Being spared coming rifts

For the poets we grieve
Are of this fabric's weave
They are this tapestry
The fibre of our society

And they have marked us so indelibly

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