Best Ingress Poems


Premium Member Inner Sanctum

Privileged is the right of ingress, bearing your beloved name, 
To chambers of your heart, where burns a sacred flame,
Of inner sanctum divine, in sanctity of a heavenly place,
Strumming beats esoteric, vying ataraxis of ethereal grace.

Reserved for you and I, is a secret temple, tolling solace,
Where love and life embrace, in a sanctuary pure, flawless;
Where the bells echo, beckoning will of empathetic mind,
Affirming proclivity for affinity, aligned with motives kind.

When solitary thoughts linger on a grievous path of life,
When hurdles, detours of past, manifest anguish of strife,
When hurricanes and storms churn in destructive tides,
To shores of peace and tranquility, inner sanctum guides.

When life drives rudderless, perturbed in dubious plight,
Harmony of sapience and prudence transmit inner light,
Spurring verse of wisdom, as missives enlightened chime, 
Defying apathy and ignorance, honoring virtues sublime.

Only you and I can soothe, troubled tears of grieved sigh,
Only you and I can fill voids, when vacuously life goes awry,
As dialogue of reason and intellect inner sanctum revives
Empowering thoughts so inspired, where sagacity thrives.
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member One Stone

hard, cold ...

with weight to crush
impervious to all, save the elemental
burdenous, and dense with unfeeling matter
oh, it shines in its own way

it is indeed a rare gem
fit for only the most hospitable of environments
and it pulses with an extraordinary energy, innate and lasting
though it betrays not, its bearing

how I have labored to penetrate its unyielding exterior
how I have plied and chiseled and hewn
striving with all I am and know
to create a masterpiece from corporeity

to mold warmth from its raw and ridged form
and bring forth the bounty from within
oh, the moisture of my brow!
oh, the stinging weep of my eyes!

spent in vain for the sake of its ingress
countless, the moments wasted on its rigid margin
but I shant break the unbreakable
much as even THAT would be a success

and a reckoning ... though twisted.
I. Am. Done.
no more will I bring my spirit to bear ...
no more will I shed sweat OR tear for its regard

and should it one day shatter and split -
whether by its own course or another -
I will no longer care or consider
but I will also NOT pleasure in its undoing

for I loved it more than life
oh, yes, even that much
this exquisite object ...
this one stone ...

your HEART.







~ 3rd Place ~  in the "Two Word Challenge" Poetry Contest, John Lawless, Judge & Sponsor.

Premium Member A Tale of Meraki


A tale of meraki

Overcome by the burden she sat teary eyed
Holding closely her two little boys by her side
Immersed in sorrow they had endlessly cried
After her loving husband had suddenly died.

Soaring from her seat elated with newfound joy,
Making herself a promise with an assured ploy,
She picked up her two boys holding them high
Shedding ambivalence boldly with assertive sigh.

Dedicating bravely to parenting with rigor,
Fighting ingress of despair with almighty vigor,
She crushed hindrances powered by love alone,
Aiming meraki resolutely to reach her throne.

As the boys grew older she faced new struggle
With eagle-eyes she kept them out of trouble,
Enamored in plans for sending them to college,
Guiding them to yearn for power of knowledge.

Not retreating when incurable illness struck,
Refusing to surrender to randomness of luck,
Amid doctor's visits she kept working at her job
As if nothing sublunary would cause her to stop.

Her kids grew up to be intelligent young men
Finding success in college with power of pen,
Earning scholarships for duration of all terms,
Getting job offers from many reputable firms.

Having reached destination of her ardent trip
She embraced her kids with a joyous firm grip,
Longing to hold fervently till they reach their prime,
Knowing well she'll be dead in a very short time.

December 15, 2017
Meraki
Sponsor: Silent One
Placed 2nd
Form: Rhyme


Sleepwalker

Sleepwalker


And in the darkest sweeping wings is held all probable
The night of dreamings; wished embraces of gossamer senses ponder miracles 
And leave their mark; ever in hope....

She is waiting

Pale in naked moon lit sexual stretches
Fanning shadows curve on satins anguished blue
To subtle bronzed drips rusted rivers
Lay about her in ever flowing delta’s of hair

These the coy covers of shoulders demure beneath their lifting expectation
Quintessence supplicant to floating hands; risen
Her slow beat thumps on a sudden heart
The fleur-de-lis arched beseeching the avid prayer of lips

The floorboards creek

And though through empty rooms the sighs may roam
Though forever it seems she has lain alone
There are eyes, by bat wing devised; by the caverns urgent aphrodisia
He has been gathered by the corpuscle of desire, to come to her

And by each and every silent unspent moan of longing
He inscribed this hours, fretful, reflections of her mantle parted
An eternal caress folded; ingress to her concupiscent heart
Mere Luna beams of dreams of loves physique, his love, made love to her

Dawns dissipation breaths

Remembering the warmth before forgotten days; where separated so
Bathes her awash in amber fire; and traces his finger along her spine
To leave her sleeping in those somnambulist foot prints
Looses in the languid illusive of arms, wrapped in suns breaking

Turning to the light he asks for its edifice, hold fast on waking 
Struggle to define by wanting the irrevocable kiss; pressed to her
A taste recited by those gossamer senses ponder miracles
And leave their mark; forever in hope

Premium Member Would You Still Love Me If

If I didn't drip honey from my tongue each time I drew you close, 
would I still leave immutable marks upon your heart my love? 

If this holiest of grail this mouth of mine
spoke the art of love to you with the ingress of a mime  
 would you feel the essence of what I was meant to say to you,  
through this un-pierceable, silence;   
If I never learnt to write a poem or share one single line 
through yielding quill or bleeding ink,    
would you allow me to show you my brailing thoughts 
and take you to the summit, despite my unspoken word.   
Would you still love me, if I wasn't a poet  
or if my words were silent ships sailing through the open sky,  
then would you accompany me mute, or whisper me goodbye !      
If we touched the harbor of each other's thoughts,  
could we then be love and share each other's truth, 
unspoken side by side, like two silent masts.

Unscathed

locked in the portal of memory
you navigate and ingress my mind
through the passage of tangible thoughts
that still have the ability to choke me
with the power that lies in lifeless hands

i still hear the echoes of your voice
patronize me from beyond the shadows
that stalk from restless graves
an utterance of words that still burn
in spontaneous little bursts
through to the core of my soul

sometimes your revelation in dreams
has a way to intrigue more than frighten me
the fixation of your eyes locked in stares
angrily piercing through the depths of mine
trying to shatter my heart again and again
while awaiting trails of my tears to fall
against my quivering lips 
in a kiss of bitterness
that never comes
in this numbness
you already caused
instead i awaken
unscathed


January 18, 2020

Eight word challenge
Sponsored by John Hamilton


' In Just a Glimpse '

" I open the door and cross the threshold of imagination "

In the midst of woods
A cryptic houri's crooning
Euphony - suffused.

Nocturnal deity humming her lyrical milieu
Yarn of Utopian hymn of nostalgia
Missing her sublime empyrean realm, now ...
Place seems so eccentric ... strange ensued in just a flash
How mind's eye brought this door to reach " LIMITLESS "

Facing the Ingress of CHANGE
Goddess of melody stepped and witnessed the other world behind the realm
A cyan orb with burning effulgent daystar - mirrored, reflected
Drawing up the facsimile of lustrous sparks of luminescence
Planet surrounded by towering trees oscillating 
Dancing together with the blithesome rhythmic gust of cool breeze
Nymphalid gliding, vagabonding with grace and elegance
Bragging its chromatic stunning ala above the turfs embracing the land
Rocks, pebbles, grass, insects and animals in harmony
Clouds, birds, skies, heaven and earth in equilibrium
Like music - heavenly, perfect, profound, and heartfelt
Factual sanctuary - undisturbed habitat of existence
Home of soothing silence - obscure, raw ...
Goddess now a HUMAN
Mortal - in time, will cease and die. . .

===============================

*HAIKU
   **ACROSTIC
        ***FREE VERSE

                    *-*  jun-jun villanueva

~~~~~" THREE GEMS " contest~~~~~~

                      july 29,2011
Form: Haiku

Hot Wheels

The honesty of kin, childhood, the win
to have it all, the prize, the goal,
a Mother's prayer, the senseless maul,
somewhere within my reach, still small!

The hot wheel, faded, paintless steel
within my hand ~ my heart did feel
my Son, but three or four reveal
his coping, his new life, my teel.

The years, fond scheme, and yet within
this child still reckon with esteem
his choices, hurts, constants begin
my focused art, would still find glean!

Within the sewing basket tucked
amidst the buttons, colors mixed,
this small child's toy, not run amuck
scavenged quixotic Mother's fix!

His heyday, now at fifty-two
amidst the bulging corporate trade,
once tiny, sweet, His eyes of blue
but focused on toy cars parade!

Now oil and gas, a larger trek
all busy, but with time so pressed,
a family home, the still recess
of waiting for their coverage blessed!

From small to big, a child's ingress
resumes from trusting through duress
the simple moments of caress
are chosen monument's suggest!

God keep my courage to arrest
those seaming giant's fouling sport,
that from some innocence' impress
ambition's honesty to test!

Contention's wander, thereby less
the larger goal retreat, reveal
the cost of money brings duress
a childhood's faith, much quieter . . . . real!
Form: Monorhyme

Test

Talents offspring, not ingress
nor decimate of soul's transgress
the effigy of heart's duress
is "silence" ~ without word's address!

So spreading, lose my worth's suggest?
Err not, the motive is repress,
my ear not beckoning regress
but waiting, listening, no recess!

The matters implementing stress
must not be heard, but felt, impress
if not the message, why am blest
to so maneuver crowd's ingest!

Disciples speaking, not conquest
the role of prophets so confess
that thought and feeling, give my best
the saving, instigate ~ no less~

So listening, with the heart's express
fields action, stemming from . . . . the test!
Form: Monorhyme

' the Nymph In the World of Humans '

In the midst of woods
A cryptic houri's crooning
Euphony - suffused.

Nocturnal deity humming her lyrical milieu
Yarn of Utopian hymn of nostalgia
Missing her sublime empyrean realm, now ...
Place seems so eccentric ... strange ensued in just a flash
How mind's eye brought this door to reach " LIMITLESS "

Facing the Ingress of CHANGE
Goddess of melody stepped and witnessed the other world behind the realm
A cyan orb with burning effulgent daystar - mirrored, reflected
Drawing up the facsimile of lustrous sparks of luminescence
Planet surrounded by towering trees oscillating 
Dancing together with the blithesome rhythmic gust of cool breeze
Nymphalid gliding, vagabonding with grace and elegance
Bragging its chromatic stunning ala above the turfs embracing the land
Rocks, pebbles, grass, insects and animals in harmony
Clouds, birds, skies, heaven and earth in equilibrium
Like music - heavenly, perfect, profound, and heartfelt
Factual sanctuary - undisturbed habitat of existence
Home of soothing silence - obscure, raw ...
Goddess now a HUMAN
Mortal - in time, will cease and die. . .

==========================================
Haiku
Acrostic
Free Verse


july 30,2011
Form: Haiku

Apostasy of a Prophet

This Casuistry is a paradox
Fallacious    feelings           repress
A Sophistry you ingress    Chemically redox
Tergiversate under scrutiny.  A misfit – an anachronism.  Elusory emotions to express
My argument a confused paralogism	Chicanery  
Fugacious Piety worships AWAITING THE FALL  
An elaborate machination Formation of 
this Cabal To unravel this conspiracy
Renegade inspiration
A
Live 
Grenade
Revolution call.
Societal crumblings
A mind poisoned by barricades
Limitations.
Cures itself
By questioning everything
Invalidity, obscurity, corruption
Topple under 
Plots of our Coterie
Political pressure
Militant insurgency
Worship the gun
Worship the steel

Guerilla tactics 
Metro
Urban
Rurally
Camouflaged pawns
Stratagem
Pieces on the board are people
Playing for real.
Didactic Leaders
And 
Pedantic parents
They’re history and experience
In perspective reveals.
Cycle of manipulative
Elite, controlling
The pariahs
Starved in appeal.
Form: Shape

Stock Market Stroke

Thronged investors at the allotment bazaar
Large cap bearish
Scripts at fall.
Awaited ingenious and expertise capitalists
Then brought into 
Scripts at down.  
Mid Cap bullish
Scripts at rise
Wavered SENSEX
And small cap ingress
Gives the once over like a cliffhanger rise.

Beginners rapacity and analysts variegations
Former’s paucity and latter’s accrued funds.

Pulled blue chips 
Superior position
And more towering price
Then again a new firm
Offering a bid price.

Broker’s commission and depositories dematerialization 
Varied revenue
Over investors capitalization. 

Inflation hikes and deflation brought down
Again a widespread decline in the GDP
Brought the whole market to pull down.
Analyst’s accrued funds and NIFTY’s superbia
Top thirties jackpots and investors allocations,
Sharply jerked down.
Brainsick market
And a quidity beer bar,
A full-time financial express
And the morning tea NDTV regular. 

Beginners’ luck to fill the pot
And a period later
The crow sated the piggy bank pot. 

-------------- X -------------------
Form:

Premium Member Listen To the Moon

The plain is fuzzing with the ingress racing.
Predicted rain is heard in the birds singing.
Sow your seed when the moon tells its time.
Hear the tales close to the fire; it's sublime.

Contemplate the skies for the hawks cry.
Focus on the breeze and the moonlit sky.
The noble spirit exudes an altered tone.
To heed of the rite of the elder, not atone.

The misery of grievousness is heinous.
I am fated, that I could carry forward.
There's no growth from the coldness.
The stable grace cannot stem rearward.

For a dismal exhale to seek for reeling.
Hear the beat and banter with moving.

5TH PLACE CONTEST WINNER

Written: April 10, 2022

A BRIAN STRAND PREMIERE CHOICE Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Brian Strand
© Sotto Poet  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Sonnet

Obsessive Constraints Part One

Thy birth on January 13th – 
   cervical contractions 
   would not abate
the pesky master (papa), strove 
   to synchronize seminal bait

thence, forty-two weeks 
   after ma parents did pro create 
imminent lviii plus years ago to date, 
this present baby boomer doth 
   indubitably and inherently equate

nineteen hundred and fifty nine 
   bequeathed birthed mine kempf ill fate
neurological manifestation, 
   sans obsessive compulsive did grate

behavioral motif and analogous 
   to frontispiece per story I hate
of my life and hard times, 
   when all of a sudden out blue irate,

the onset of emotional nadir, 
   where ballistic ordnance bombed away
fancy free, innocent, naïve boyhood 
   decrying, detonating, 
   and describing me own Pigs Bay

Allied, linkedin, and synced Luftwaffe 
   and Panzer division invasion that clay
like materiel within southern cerebral hemi
   sphere inroads usurped no delay

riding roughshod via synapse straits sporting 
   scoring sorties using every
axe n newer on dread did 
   Swiss hide dill naught 

   to decimate with spirited ghost 
   of William Tecumseh Sherman 
   determination tuff flay
leaving not one iota (oft times) 
   referenced as gray
matter unaffected quite aware 
   of rebellious confederated voices 
   yelling “HOORAY”

Sabotaging orbitofrontal communication 
incorporating connection between anterior 
cingulate gyrus cortex heightening activity 
bridging (via atom sized pontoon bridges) 

greater activity upon basal ganglia, which 
synoptic description does nothing to alter 
the predisposition to ingress of un control
able imbecilic, inexplicable, and illogical 
fixation particularly during onset of puberty, 

when an emotional kamikaze nose dive 
at nadir of near lifelessness, the shadow 
of me former self nowhere tubby found 
on account of deadly symbiotic relationship.
Form: Bio

Colors of Birth

This chair has chipped paint.     
Its shadow gangly 
in the light spilling through 
the window. A deep 
buttercup bisque steeps.

Through this stream, ember
motility of curdled 
cream seeps into pores.
The seat embraces. Blood
colors sugar soft.


Fragments of dust waver
around the chair. Like 
the suspended stars, or
the pixel points on 
an LCD screen. Crumbs.

Feathers stick to the cheeks, 
to be brushed off,
puff into the heavens.  
Egg -white tinctured coat
wilts within the humid

air. Like the jaundiced 
skin you wished to shed
when you first sundered
the sheets this morning.
This chair rocked my great

grandmother and her
children, and mother. Creaks
like an anchored boat.
Exposed grey brown wood 
perishes, stabs the skin.

Like the chilled sea tinted
eyes: an ingress tears 
the hushed air- a summons: 
her son. Long ago 
an apollyon. Starless.

The chair will be kindle
in September, sand-
peach colors imbued, 
flushed like the candied
burn of Fall. Her flames.

Relive the fire
in the sky; salt waters
plum green, oily.
tauten red orange arms.
War in the distance-

better. The rose portrait,
diabolus shades stain
a cimmeran- tinted 
loss, wound. Chalk inhaled.
And the blaze of two black 

holes colliding. Wraiths.
The winter of her life,
within which a lurid
spirit-thin webbed cross
bleeds ash. Freezes; clots.

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