Best Inflames Poems
Never ever shame a woman
for the fire in her soul
still your fear that you're unable
to give that which makes her whole
Never ever shame a woman
for the fierceness of her love
when she wants to subjugate you
she's an eagle, not your dove
Never ever shame a woman
for her raging burning need
to take in that which inflames her
bond and let her soul be freed
Never ever shame a woman
for insatiable desire
use your all to give and please her
be a man and stoke her fire
Never ever shame a woman
for her sensual appetite
primal cravings that possess her
give her reign at day or night
Never ever shame a woman
when she moans in ecstasy
do not force her into silence
let her voice her fantasy
Never ever shame a woman
for her wanton sultry way
thank the heavens that she's able
to bring passion into play
Never ever shame a woman
for the pleasure that she craves
be a man and strive to sate her
for this act her honor saves
Eileen Manassian
Ascending above sanctum of horizon, a dawn inflames the effulgent rays,
Enlightening daybreak as embers of light set the scarlet morning ablaze
Projecting golden beams on hushed venues, in beatific style, not seen in a while,
Glittering on grass in vivid dewdrops, glinting ornamental autumnal smile.
Riding the path of shortened days, marigold passions eloquently evoke
Enchanting colors of resplendent meadows--sensuous vibes tenderly stoke
When traversing upon a vibrant blue-arc, solar-noon invokes seasons warm
Where cumulus clouds stroll the meridian, amid nary a sign of rainy storm.
Seeking affinity of ruby dusk, a spectrum inscribes on gilded evening skies
Iridescent emotions in colors of romance, pleasing desires of amorous eyes
As falling leaves waltz, in leisurely dance, attuned to song of sunset breeze
Descending slowly with vanishing sun, in forlorn shudders of barren trees.
October 28, 2019
Poem of the day on October 30, 2019
Placed 3rd: Strand special 2 by Brian Strand
My soul is my guide.. Rumi
I once adored the warmth
of unreachable desires.
Ascending too high,
I fell from the sky just like Icarus.
Suffering from the flames of fate,
my eyes resembled a million candles
burning tears of wax.
But, I've always been familiar with fire,
as I was born scarred from internal inflames.
It's a blessing when strings of attachment
cremate into ashes.
Love is a vintage gold rose,
an irreversible ideology,
where thorns grow upon petals of pain.
In an autumnal aura, all scents fade,
so I remain in pale blackness -
my sighs as heavy as smokeless tar.
Yet, I know my soul will blossom,
once again with robins in Spring,
as scents of sweet almonds return
with the rebirth of roses without thorns.
In a world of imagination
the colours of love are boundless.
Romance is an opal rainbow over
stormy oceans yearning for turquoise tides.
If my heart was a gem,
it would reflect like a scarlet diamond,
walking upon malachite meadows,
full of ivory orchids with purple lilies,
admiring aquamarine skies,
with hues of amethyst and citrine.
We were all born to sparkle..
Under tones of indigo moonstone
with hints of pink,
my quill will scribble in lilac ink
as love always returns.
Simple Musing.
Desires whisper in shadow of Venus
And seduce intentions of clandestine love
As rhythms attuned to romantic beats
Pulsate zealously in galactic utopia.
Bashful moon titillates lustrous vibes
In interstellar space of floating nebulae
As symphony of emotions arouses
Throbbing hearts in exotic euphoria.
Sizzling bodies elevate mystical aura
Flooding blood-veins’ cosmic jubilation
And longings waltz on sensuous clouds
As jolt of excitement inflames bosoms.
A tango of passions presents a ballet
For one more spin on planetary stage
High on elation of moonlit ecstasy
Savoring kisses of heavenly blessings,
Satiating dreams of forbidden themes
Unlocking secrets of mysterious galaxy.
January 14, 2020
Placed 1st: Picture prompt poetry contest
Sponsor: Brenda Chiri
Placed 3rd: Strand choice 9 contest by Brian Strand
Eventide’s splendorous motifs on blazing arc rise
Tinting golden horizon of glinting vermillion skies
Where setting sun inflames decaying gilded rays
As twilight glistens graying eve’s yellowing haze
And pewter winds rustle leaves, lilting meadows
Swaying hills of trees in rhythms of tilting shadows
Where bidding the day goodbye birds hastily fly
While enchanted in luminant sky people amble by
Reveling ebullience of nightfall glowing in moonlight
Dazzled by twinkles of stars lifting tenor of night
As nightingale’s love song enthralls nocturnal appeal
When orchestra plays above scintillating astral zeal
Quietude soon endows dreams of exuberant dawn
As the reign of moon and stars sparkles on and on
Till misty morn awakens to melodies of robin’s call
And sun rises again to walk the new day to nightfall
October 19, 2020
Placed 2nd: Collaboration with Silent One Poetry Contest
Down south, Magnolia trees are everywhere
Broad shiny leaves adorn this evergreen
Each spring sweet blossoms permeate the air
Their smell and beauty add to any scene
Their flowers are as large as dinner plates
Red violet base that fades to pink then white
So soft to touch it quickens all heart rates
It's smell so sweet it makes the head feel light
And then there is the secret of the south
For me, I know it is my fav'rite part
A southern belle will kiss and make you shout
Because the scent inflames a lover's heart
If you want someone you love to propose
Bring them down south where Sweet Magnolia grows
by Daniel Turner
I’ve an anger which cannot be hidden!
A burning passion that comes unbidden!
My Soul desolated with grievous rage,
reacts with furious justified outrage!
Occasioned by the offences of ignorance,
bigotry, discrimination and intolerance!
Though evil are the ravages of vandalism,
they pale to the magnitude of racialism!
Colour, creed, even the shape of the eye
is little enough to make bigots cry:
“He’s not of us! He’s a different breed!”
“Watch him close or he’ll do us an ill deed!”
There is no cause for remarks such as these,
but pestilent views are like a disease!
Some ill chosen words expressed in vague
terms, insinuate like a fatal plague!
Ethnic slurs in the guise of humour, fester!
With but one angry response one protester,
can incite more slander, which raging out of hand,
foments a backlash! Runs rampant! Inflames the land!
But racism is a sword with a two edged blade!
It cleaves not only those on whom it’s laid
but those who scorn to curb their vicious tongue
from whom such defamatory words have sprung!
Can we not accept those who are not as us?
Must we blame the innocent for the fuss
instigated by such biased perception?
Let us quash ignorance at its inception,
or by default we shall be guilty too!
By using diverse conceits we construe
to make imprudent acts lawful decrees!
While disregarding all impassioned pleas
for tolerance! Unless we denounce this blight,
or take a stand and with fortitude, to fight
and end disharmony, discord and dislike!
Racialism and hatred will flourish alike!
Rhymer April 1st, 2017.
Who coined this term?
Who decided to limit one’s spirit?
Who decided to deprecate those qualities that remain hidden?
Out of my league…
What is the measure?
Who created the scale?
Is it beauty????
There is an inner splendor that defies the term
Is it grace????
There is the graceful movement of the soul that
moves beyond the boundaries of description
Is it shapeliness???
The shapes and forms of the mind, the curves and lines
Are unclothed in words and unseen by eyes
Is it sexual dynamism???
The body may be painted by an artist, but it has no power to satisfy
desire unless it succumbs to the promptings of a sensual mind
Is it wisdom???
There is the wisdom verified by degrees and the wisdom of the world
which is broader and at times deeper than the few letters at the end of a name
Is it wealth???
The wealth of the world does not even begin to tip the scale
In comparison to the wealth of human character…integrity, loyalty, mercy, and love
What is it???
What is that illusive quality
That demands the stamp of
“Out of my league?”
I defy it
I renounce it
No one can label me…
Yet...I am in a league of my own
Beautiful
Sensual
Shaplely
Wise
Wealthy
Dynamic
A dynamism that a label cannot hold
A wealth that cannot be weighed
A wisdom that guides inner spheres of life
A shapeliness that flaunts the norm
A sensuality that inflames thought and movement
A beauty that shines in its own right
Yes! I am in a league of my own
If you are turned away
By outer appearances
By lack of wealth
And the trappings of prestige
You are missing the treasure
The sheer enigma
Of a mind that is deep, unbound, free
In this league that I live and breath in
This league of....ME!
Eileen Manassian Ghali
The scorpions creeping out from words slowly, acutely framing
where judgement claims the higher position unconditionally
lone vulture hanging over its unsuspecting prey ready to pounce
once so blind ambitions reverberates back as unqualified honours least deserved
Pompous narcissistic elements with nonsensical fruitless talent
held within egotism where fools of choice becomes one’s ability
under total admiration publicly declared in lonely self-centeredness
becomes a sterile reflection back to oneself blinded by arrogance
As friends become nemesis’s unnamed obstacles of your vainglorious rise
Sounding echos reverberates a never ending recording of undeserving self-pride
knowing more than all of what is right claiming the false prize for me, me, me
It matters not that lonely superiority must accept the great divide
False praise their claims attention that inflames your senses unjustly wise
crying regrets a prize is a prize nothing to be gained under the sun or moon
striving after winds have blown a gale force within hidden torment
the wreckage that's left after such destruction can only be found wanting
a co written piece in unrhymed quatrains by Donna Loughman and Liam McDaid
The scorpions creeping out from words slowly, acutely framing
where judgement claims the higher position unconditionally
lone vulture hanging over its unsuspecting prey ready to pounce
once so blind ambitions reverberates back as unqualified honours least deserved
Pompous narcissistic elements with nonsensical fruitless talent
held within egotism where fools of choice becomes one’s ability
under total admiration publicly declared in lonely self-centeredness
becomes a sterile reflection back to oneself blinded by arrogance
As friends become nemesis’s unnamed obstacles of your vainglorious rise
Sounding echos reverberates a never ending recording of undeserving self-pride
knowing more than all of what is right claiming the false prize for me, me, me
It matters not that lonely superiority must accept the great divide
False praise their claims attention that inflames your senses unjustly wise
crying regrets a prize is a prize nothing to be gained under the sun or moon
striving after winds have blown a gale force within hidden torment
the wreckage that's left after such destruction can only be found wanting
a co written piece in unrhymed quatrains by Donna Loughman and Liam McDaid
Shall I liken you to a corpse bouquet?
You are certainly ripe and more fetid.
The fond zephyrs of May waft your decay
Up the addled noses of us wretched
Hordes famished for flesh, lurching on the moor,
And me amongst them clawing to your scent
Putrix beyond the spitty chum’s allure
Propels me well beyond routine ferment
To you, though Fate’s sickle blade shall flail
My congealed member’s once firm resolve,
And fire inflames us just shy of the pale,
Our passion will continue to devolve.
Ever, shall she be my prime cadaver,
O to undie again, and to have her!
1) MENTAL STORMS
I am not a poet
I have never claim to be
I only write down my feelings
Because it helps me mentally
It was kept a secret for years
never for others to see
A personal world
Where I keep my memory's
Focusing so hard
It's like I'm eating them on TV
dealing with the loss of a love one
Can come in all shapes and all forms
I just personally found writing to be
The way
That helps tackle my personal mental storms
You see when the storm peaks full force
it's has no remorse
It transfers lightning bolts of pain shattering strain electrifying the vains as it travels besides the bloods course
Then the pain inflames the brain
as it test the human frame
to see if you can regain
the inner strength to remain
strong enough to maintain
as you cope with the constant strain of handling one of life's cruelest games
So I don't care if my English is not the correct grammar
That really isn't my concern
The fact is I'm actually thick as when it comes to understanding all the proper punctuational terms
I don't write down my feeling for anyone to grade
I don't write them down for attention or praise
I don't care for the spelling mistakes or the ink stained tears that phase the page
Cause when I'm writing
half the time my hand barley keeps up pace
Often the tears flow blocking my vision as I scribble down words like an emotional race
But like any storm
They always pass through
Some are worse then others
But eventually the sky returns blue
As the sun comes out from behind its covers
So as the wind howls hard
the rain beaut down
It's a case of if you want to survive the mental storm
Or admit defeat and drown in your frown
William light
At A Crossroads Poet, Hears That True Call,
dedicated, to my friend with appreciation
At a crossroads poet, finds waiting pen
beneath dust that hides wiles of evil men
ink then cast forth on an eager blank page
from heartfelt and pure soul of wizened sage.
At a crossroads truths, one can not deny
nor neglect reigning beauty of night skies
as stars twinkle and moonlight bright parades
through wafting breeze and all Nature hath made.
At a crossroads poet, hears that true call
music that inflames passions in us all
for such inspires deep love and gifted hands
with verse from far above, our earthly lands.
At a crossroads, where sincere life one lives.
Soul rests free within, writes sweet words to give.
Robert J. Lindley,10-04-2019
Sonnet, ( How poetry oft inspires other poets )
(dedicated to Besma Riabi Dziri, inspired by
my reading of Besma's exquisite poem, titled
"At A Crossroads A Poet Is Born" )..........
The scarlet sun inflames the horizon over sensuous sea,
the sublime gift of a new dazzling day sails across to me.
From the fringe of seamless serenity gold laced clouds rise,
on their satin wings to your charming sky my yearning flies.
July 27, 2020
Contest : Four Lines
Sponsor : Constance La France
Hold me in your heart
where your passion dwells, waiting to be freed
by a romantic wanderer, who'll share his love
worthy of your heart's eloquence of glowing light
that will guide me
as I journey your dreamscape of paradise
intoxicated by your fervent heart
that inflames my fervor
so, I may whisper dreams to you
of long stem roses on the farthest hill
where ardor blooms
watching sunrise on fields of purple asters
inviting our eyes to welcome the glorious glow
of dawn, covered in morning dew
where I'll look upon your beauty
with enthralling eyes of wonder
offering warmth from outstretched arms
yearning to be loved
feeling the breath of emotion
nourished by bewitching fragrances
captivating my spellbound soul
lost in the internal wanderings of love
long forgotten in the landscape of my heart