Best Kindle Poems
Your touch plugs me in,
Lights my body from within,
Fills my veins with liquid light
Till my dormant heart ignites
To be moulded like blown glass -
An urn to hold this cooling ash.
You kindle the lamps
Little earthen bowls
Holding circles of mustard oil
Wicks like snouts of desire
The sober flame radiating rosy heat
Smell of ripened wheat
I get my book
Under the leaves of the light
Words snuggling in delight
The dissolving nights recede
Your pent-up poems, all freed
You become the words
Swords disappear
Mightier pen gets prepared
The lamps in the corners
In triangles and tweets
Light on the lips of darkness
Salvador Dali
It is poetry of Diwali
Smileys hovering in the air
Scented light from your hair
You kindle the lamps
Taking light
From my candle-hand
Blushing eyes command
Compelling lamps
TEA BREAK POEMS
Last year I wrote a book of poems you see,
so I could believe that it was really me.
I thought that I could edit,
mistaken was I to take such credit!
I sent it through by email, was proofread,
but a press of the button and it was gone,
now nothing could I mend.
Commas, full stops, capitals, and such,
oh how stupid, this is far too much.
Reply from Amazon was as expected,
two out of four stars for what I had neglected.
Well serves me right I said out loud,
I searched my heart, I was not proud.
I decided then and there I would try again.
This year began with with a determined yen,
but this time I would do things right,
I found someone who could edit, sheer hindsight.
In August, caught Covid, health seemed dim,
hospitalised 6 days, I prayed a lot to Him.
I came home, but still not well.
My family and friends so worried, I was not swell.
25th September, Amazon wrote to inform me,
My book had been published on Amazon Kindle.
‘Tea Break Poems’ rated four out of four,
and a glowing review, I needed no more.
O sweet touches, tell me low:
"How does your skin age so slow?"
Wanting fingers trail hello, how can those eyes just watch me so?
Like children running along my back, I feel your hand ask for a snack.
Letting it follow my inner thigh, my eyes glare to yours:
"You won't survive..."
A simple smile that whispers more, a hand retracts to my face's shore.
Bubbling on top of my nose and lips, other fingers dance upon my hips;
shallow grasping starts to pour; O this man I shall adore!
Hard kisses turn to small bites
Playful digits take off sites
Eyes stay open...no missing right?
For we can kindle, this Valentine's night.
Windows to the soul locked. Fencing in the juvenile lamb and the seasoned fox.
The key cast off. The blinds closed.
Shading him from my veiled darkness.
His castle in the air ever so light.
Blown by the twinkle which playfully waltzed in my ball.
A voracious inferno ignited in a gentle lamb.
Non-premium Member. For Kindle the Lights contest.
When his light we kindle
darkness will dwindle
A light was born:
foetus of light
birth of light
child of light
Lord of light
The light of love:
sent from above
The light of the world:
sent from the Lord
When his light we kindle
darkness will dwindle
When darkness fights
and evil smites,
we fight with light
His light our might,
we win to delight
We shine so bright--
--er than sunlight
and moonlight...
When his light we kindle
darkness will dwindle
Amidst blight and plight
His light our respite,
His glory our height,
His birth our rite,
His peace our right.
in his everlasting light,
we shine in spite
of the darkness on the dark site...
When his light we kindle
darkness will dwindle
With visages devoid of sorrow and fright,
With joyful sights and heavenly insight,
With beautiful hues and radiant light,
With faces titivating
with bright light,
We all sing Silent Night...
When his light we kindle
darkness will dwindle...
Angel Simon
to light our path
our mind has shown
the way for every step
but still we have
so little unknown
of the steps we all have left
Christopher R. Pitts - Non Premium Member
12/1/12
Once dolorous by
the might of
disaster's lick
and hope flick
the luminous Cross
and it was... ‘Red’
RedCross,
flame eternal wick
(buzzfeeding, kickstarting, needling darn noggin)
An effort to recall word, phrase,
musician... indigenous tribe...
most frustrating literary
endeavor to das scribe
aggravating enough to sub
bourbon spur teetotaler to imbibe
and/or nsync, whereby soul searching
devil's advocate demands bribe.
Lil brokeback Engelbert Humperdinck
(born Arnold George Dorsey) bent edict coercion
(think sexual mores)
scaring stripes off blushing zebra
bunched unencumbered vice pliable straw
aforementioned pablum admittedly "fake"
birthed within cerebral tenderloin
of impractical joker,
whereby fifty plus shades
of gray matter (mine)
chafed and rubbed raw
prevarication playfully did overdraw
and tax poetic license writ courtesy this paw
poor putz offal declension
sprouted within mum maw
noun tent to verb (bull eyes - red) to draw
flak, but merely to harmlessly entertain
so accept apologies (mine)
verses calling strong (lanced) arm of law.
I (garden variety poetaster) reckon fair game
media personalities grist for rumor mill, though lame
explanation given (funny first and surname)
adopted by supposed "finest middle-of-the-road
balladeers around," who co opted his stage name
from authentic Engelbert Humperdinck; selfsame
prodigy circa 1 September 1854 –
27 September 1921
German composer, who wrote, I gently exclaim
the opera Hansel and Gretel - a Grimm fairytale
actually frightful saga - read countless times
setting me boyhood imagination aflame
with mailer daemons, who haunted dreams
(mine) 'course in retrospect material tame
compared/contrasted with current pandemic
analogous as if mother Earth -
a metaphorical dame
experiencing long overdue reprieve, cuz shame
on *****sapiens belching pollutants
at any price to garner fortune and fame.
You have no time, time’s not with us,
Back still, let love be brought with us.
Let no time rob our love in life,
Nor spill over love’s pot with us.
Forgotten we have naught with time,
Nor has ill time still caught with us.
Let’s give it a go, make it work,
Let’s find that missing dot with us,
And kindle love latent within,
Seek what was long unsought in us.
__________________________________
Ghazal |01.04.2024|love
Here I am sitting in my local
bookshop that is drinking a coffee
Americano no less with hot milk
such fun time to enjoy just me!
Get my kindle out so much choice
really enjoy a real tasty read
nothing too heavy just real quality
something my mind gets a true feed
This is really a real cool thing
sitting here relaxed so at peace
must get to my poetry page
so inspiring such a lyrical feast
Well good things last just so long
time to leave well it’s been good
must do this far more often
maybe next time have a little feed!
All the rhythmic beats of the heart were wet
The happiness of your return is in the happiest tears
In the silent cloudy pond of the blue sky of the green veins
My excitement enjoys a bath of nirvana
There is no pair of pigeons
There is no familiar thatched dome
The hunter-cat is also gone
There is no dance and chirping of the little birds
No bamboo dale where our imaginative ghost lives
The heart is the withered bridge after smoking the tobacco leaf
Now the smoke from the chimney is like a white cloud
Where empty notebooks are life's detailed conclusions
Your arrival in this open chin of the epic evening
Your feet touch the heart of hoary loneliness
No door, no window but your calling bursts through the darkness
The extinguished lamp is burning in this apathetic pen
Come, come to the atonal heart by tuning the Krishna flute
Come O Lady Lakshmi Swarupini, come to the soul soothe
Kindle that love lamp by the bit of your lenient heart
May the lost past will be treasured in the embers dart
©Mahtab Bangalee
January 20, 2025
Chattogram
'Do not kindle a fire on the Sabbath Day'*
applies to discussions too
On the Holiest Day of the Week
let not contention or strife break through
_____________________________________
*Exodus 35:3
Resounding
echoes of mauve
endowed
gratified bliss
to my gravest woe.
Life’s heedless
demands,
I fear not-
Though I’ve
sought rain in
weak moments,
my hidden nature
of love always kindles
my
empyrean soul.
Human Nature Poetry Contest
Edward Ibeh
September 19, 2018
(okay, yukon axe me whatsapp pinning,
though beep pre spired, cuz mess sigh key
threads experience didst rub burr raw
as if spun as a micro spindle.)
Woolworth (Penneys on
the Dollar Store) Sears electronic,
dynamic and atomic weight
cumulative decades of suppressed
crackle, snap,
and pop, triggering
psychotic sans tete a tete
legal tender visa vis
bit coin block
chain payback daily
quotidian fits and starts
trigger torrential spate
impinging ability to relish potential
existential joie de vivre
finding me (I rate)
analogous to suffocating
unbearable pressure, yours truly
doth eek quate
to Metallica Mega-death
accessing, hammering, and pinpointing
(excel lent lee powerfully)
every square inch
of mine pate
strewing, sparking fiery
fingerhut sized explosions,
and slamming incessant
psychological torture akin to
a pernicious hidebound mate
and as of this date
November 20th two thousand eight
scored entrenched occupation
of my fifty plus
shades of gray matter
becoming more agonizing of late,
where suicidal ideation,
where repressed self hate
sprung from cumulative
(albeit cloudy with
a chance of at least one
meatball i.e. me) psyche subject
to verbal whipping (yours truly),
the gloating mean
bullies didst denigrate,
without doubt half life of
Matthew Scott Harris
aint at all great,
yet to some degree, this saturated
scorpion poisoned, mauled
and jackknifed fate
in some measure
duet hoo war ton internalized
emotions griffins
hound, feast, and delight
(more so ravenously
throve) on Hawaii,
and seamy to Maui
didst successfully, (particularly
throughout earlier decades)
emasculate, under estimate,
now (in retrospect) execrate
at invisible monster
on par with beastie boy
Doctor Frankenstein didst create
only upon death doom
he part wretchedness
will hoop fully abate.