Best Lean Back Poems


Climbing Raven Rocks

I dance upwards;
below me,
the waves slap the cliffs
and beat the rhythm.

Wind whipped clouds gallop
with flying manes
across the blue plain of the sky.

The wild geese resent
our intrusion;
honking displeasure,
they swoop a warning: 
we are guests here.

Amid the cedar fragrance
of summer and freedom,
I lean back
into the arms of the world.

Premium Member Droplet

Little droplet
your time is near,
never fear,
be part of it.

Fall into the great ocean
your conscious way,
unconscious stay,
Nature's final notion.

Lean back
let it go,
it happens so,
embrace the black.

Droplet make a tiny splash.
Whisper in your Bardo ear,
till you're no longer here,
and flesh turns to simple ash.

So sleep little droplet,
how sweet the dew.
To love it and live it
and to start anew.
© Greg Gaul  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Quintilla

Premium Member Violin POTW

The glamours, tuxedo looks
of the hollow wooden body
tuned perfectly with its four
strings manages to embody
a heavenly favor of sad energy
as a bow is drawn across its strings.
Its notes waltz upon my soul
and awakens and pulls against
my attuned heartstring imagery.
Its soothing chords being played
captivate, while joyful warm tears
swell and slowly flow.
Priceless, merry thoughts of my children
growing up long ago, playing ball
in the summers or on a wooden
sled in the snow.
The absents of my husband I dearly miss,
coming home exhausted from work;
I'd wrap my arms around him
then lean back and smile,
the love we had for each other.
The sad sounds the violinist awoke
from the violin as they played;
memories never to be forgotten.


8/8/2024
© Eve Roper  Create an image from this poem.


Premium Member Deep Duet

"Deep Duet"



When I write I feel my fingers tapping keys

In my mind they are stroking black notes and ivory

You are sitting with me 

Place your warm hands on mine

“Metronome”, you whisper 

Warm breath on my neck close behind 

“But there are rules”, I say 

I lean back into you 

Time to move in tempo

We are deep duet

He colours my world

Intermezzo

Keys

Love Notes

Sharp 

Accidentals 

White and Black



(Lovejoy-Burton/April 2018)



"Love is like playing the piano, first you must learn to play by the rules, then you must forget the rules and play from your heart".



"An accidental, in music theory, is a musical notation that is used to raise or lower the pitch of a note. There are a handful of accidentals - sharps, flats, naturals, double sharps, and double flats. In piano, when an accidental precedes a note, it tells the pianist to play a different note from the original."









Lyrics/Let Me Love You - Peter Murphy
https://genius.com/Peter-murphy-let-me-love-you-lyrics

Premium Member Idyll

(Base USO club, Zweibrucken, Germany, 1963)

Of a lazy afternoon, I sit
     propped up,
Bones aching, sorely tired from
     lack of work,
And dutifully read the comic
     strips
With bored eyes while my mind
     dozes.

I sit enveloped in my peculiar
Grayish pallor, which clings
And will not disappear,
And martyr myself to the gods
     of convention.

I smoke acrid-tasting cigarettes and
Loudly chew a cud of gum, popping it
Absent-mindedly, and I turn the
     crinkly sounding
Pages, one after one, slowly
     and intently,
So as not to disarrange the sheaf.

The dryish smell of printed
     comic strips
Irritates my nose, but I don't
     sneeze --
Merely wriggle it a bit for some
     relief.

My brightly polished shoes are propped
Upon the table and I lean back and tilt
     the chair, and my hair
Is closely cropped and combed with care,
     no strand
Out of place, pomaded and arranged.

My clothes are neat and clean
     and stylish
And I brush away a nonexistent
     crumb and
I slowly chew and loudly pop my gum,

Moisten index finger, moisten thumb,
And turn the colored printed page
     of comics,
Snicker at the antics pictured
While I glance about.

     And wonder.

Premium Member The Chair In Icu

I've been watching you for hours now,
          wringing your hands
          pacing the floor
          watching the monitors
          holding his hand
          never leaving his side
Your spirit is strong,
   he feels you by his side
          knows you are there,
          hears your whispered prayers
yet you are oh, so tired,
I see it in your weary face,
               your bloodshot eyes
I'm here for you,
                     when you are ready-
            pull me close to his bed,
            lean back and take his hand,
            close your eyes for a few minutes.
I'll stand watch with you,
     I'm here for you, and
     I'm not aganist catching a tear or two
I see you looking at me-longing for relief
     He won't think you weak if you
          sit down for a while--so, 
                            Go ahead--
                                  Pull me close to the bed,
                                       take his hand,
                                                  lean back,
                                                       close your eyes,
                                                                rest.
                                                      I am here for you.


Sweet-Er Sensation

Underneath, you above,
Hold me close,like a glove,
You whisper my name,"yes love",
Meant to be,white doves....

You lean forward, I lean back,
You pull my jeans,I lift your top,
You bite your lips,I hit the spot,
We tremble like leaves,and then collapse...
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Sir Oak

Sir Oak

I am the mighty king of trees, the master of the yard.
The seasons come and then they go beneath my watchful eye.
As young grow old and winds blow cold with tempests rough and hard,
I am an oak tree from a seed that dared to touch the sky.

My father taught me many things before he said “Goodbye,”
to laugh at snowstorms, ice and rain, to let the troubles pass,
to shake loose dying leaves in fall and know the reasons why.
So now I cast a stately shadow long across the grass.

Come softly to my garden world beneath my arms so wide.
Let me feel your body warmth as you lean back at my side.

9/20/17

PERSONIFICATION OF PLANT
Sponsored by: Kim Rodrigues
YOUR CHOICE (10)PERSONIFICATION ,any form,any theme Poetry Contest
Sponsor Brian Strand

Premium Member At the End of a Cowboy's Day

Me and my fellow buckaroos have had a real rough day.
Plumb tuckered out, we still are not ready to hit the hay.

Our bacon, the beans and biscuits have all been gobbled up.
My coffee now is growing cold inside my old tin cup.

Sitting around the fire, it feels good to just lean back.
A harmonica my friend is taking now from his "war sack."

melancholy is his tune. Two cowpokes who have guitars
are joining in with my friend Jake. I look up at the stars.

I want to liven up the scene, so I sing them my new song -
the one I wrote a month ago. The others sing along.

I love this life and being on this current cattle drive.
Not married yet, I'm saving up. At least I can survive!

It's time to get our sleep in. My bedroll's spread out. By and by,
I'll be deaming about my gal Sal beneath this starry sky!

Jan. 27, 2021



Jan. 27, 2021 for Line Gautheir's 'Cowboy Poetry' Poetry Contest
Form: Rhyme

Tissue

Tissue 




Do you sleep as I do
Bent upon a dream that breaks you
Lean back in a whiskey stupor
What the hell where these dreams ever made for

To burn in flightless wings
Angel kissed with Friday night wishings
And take the bitterness pill that life has in hand
But never understand

Let the rain fall on your window
If the glass ever would remind you
Of tears that I shed
Are they now a romance of dissent

Premium Member The Animals' Tea Party

Toast and marmalade for tea
Sailing ships upon the sea."
-Tin Tin, 1971

Goats and marmosets for tea
Snails and thrips and angry bees
You're more beautiful than me
With your tea served in the trees.

As the sun plays through the leaves
Chipmunks leap from limb to limb
Striving to be biscuit thieves
Fill your teacup to the brim.

Start mine with a bit of cream
Sip my tay, lean back, day dream
As the marmosets convey
With the chipmunks they would play.
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Magic Emily

— — — — — —
A walk through the old town 
and a girl on the street near the stone bridge.
Brown eyes with withered memory 
covered the crying soul,
which wiped the sand of the past from the shoes. 
Heart oppressed by the coldness of the mountain 
overhanging the walnut crown. 
The Tao of Time pushes the heartless crowd, 
which tears the curds and stains your dress. 
Where did you lose your dream, Emily? 
And how did your joy break on the cobblestones?
 * 
Your way into the unknown within yourself
is a walk by the lake of secrets.
An ordinary autumn day when you borrow a new dream from fingers in your hair. 
A Kiss by the old tower 
where the chains of the past rattle. 
Illusionist from Hudson River, 
binds your heart carefully while you watch how, 
with his bare hands, 
unlocks the chest of secrets.
 * 
Kisses for the body and words 
which I write on your stomach and chest. 
Thoughtful over the verses of the prayer
by the light of a cigarette
at night you read the symbols on my skin. 
Fingers around the waist, 
they take off the longing bright moonlight 
while white light is approaching 
over the surface of dark water 
and climbs onto our table full of fate cards.
 *
A hug in the middle of the room 
and trembling of the body tinged with fear. 
A nest full of silence 
delivers chest pain. 
The stars are whispering from the heavens 
soothing plan for the days to come. 
Just lean back and listen to what your heart tells you, 
that’s the dream looking for you, Emily. 
— — —# — — —

Premium Member In the Shadow of Sunlight

In the Shadow of Sunlight

It is one of those glaringly bright days that
make your eyes water painfully.
You can't see everything at once but in short glimpses and peeks. Between blinks, half an image forms, blurry around the edges.
You raise your hand as a shield, squint, lean back and tuck your chin, grimacing. 
You thought you heard her say your name. 
Searching in stuttering snatches,
Looking in limping lunges…
like a slow motion film in staccato strobes.
 She begins far away but ends close, so close that her form blocks you from the light and you see her as the shadow of sunlight. She is glowing around the edges like a phantom.
She is smiling into your eyes for a moment. 
 The relief of sight, of cool darkness, and then gone in a flash of brilliance once again. Balking, you ask her to wait! Wait just a second! Why do your ears depend so much on your eyes? She speaks but without seeing her mouth forming words you're unsure of what she's said…dissipating as she goes anyway until only a whisper. 
“I love you darling…” 
And that's when I wake up and remember she is gone. Gone for just over 20 years now. An ache in my stomach and tears prick my sleep swollen eyes. I turn to my side and tuck my hand under the pillow…try to get back to my dream. 
 Sometimes it is the light that blinds us to the truth and darkness that soothes the burn.

Premium Member All Is Lost

Sick, sick, sick
I must be sick,
subjecting myself to
this level of frustration.

Hours of work at
this monster they
call a computer -
type, edit, cut, paste , 
thoughts aside in italics,
line breaks scrutinized.

This needs changing,
take that line out,
add this pithy phrase
for clarification.

Finally, it's as near
perfect as I can make it, 
lean back and sigh, 
admire the finished draft.

Just space the whole thing
a tad to the right.

NO! NO! Quick  
as a lightning flash,
blank page appears.
where is it?
Can't get it back -

X*#0?*#X*@#
© Cona Adams  Create an image from this poem.

Scottish Steak and Chips

What can make the heart grow fond
I'll give you the tip
Nothing can satisfy your taste
Like Scottish Steak and chips.

Juicy highland cattle steaks will
melt just past your lips
feeding well the hungry soul
That's Scottish steak and chips.

What can put some fat on you
on your frame and hips
you'll never ever fade away
With Scottish steak and chips.

There's no food in this modern world
whether haggis, burgers or fish
that can match the beauty and taste
of Scottish steak and chips.

TV chefs seem unawares
and seem so ill equipped
of talent, skill and feel required
to cook Scottish steak and chips.

No need to be serious
Always poems to make you think
Need a bit of humour
Eating Scottish steak and chips.

When grandchildren ask about the nation's dish
"is it haggis or whisky nips ?"
I'll lean back in my rockin' chair
eating Scottish Steak and chips.
© Peter Hall  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Verse

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