Best Lettered Poems
Take me to the place where the aromatic fragrance
threatens to envelop our obelisks glorifying death;
to the place where the seraphim of old long to steal your breath
only to resurrect you again,
because they adore your shell-shocked epiphany.
The twinkle of wisteria eyes that say star-struck goodbyes to winters long overdue.
Take me to some place new, yet still lingers with the scent of timeless truths.
Can you whisper epigrams in my ears yet still retain your sunflower youth?
And can such a place even exist ...
where I am me and you are you.
Is this dream of ours only a selfish wish?
Where our heart's desires
will never transpire,
but only take cues from Lazarus,
coming into our own like lilac lust.
I am told there is a beautiful gate
that leads to this tomb of ancient bloom.
Will you let me nourish this timid trust
and receive this skeleton key that dreams of wearing skin -
and if not now, of this would-be genesis ... when?
Please don't tease with someday soon,
but let these tumblers unhinge like zealous zephyr.
I know it will be all that you asked.
I know it will be, for my soul spoke so earnestly: give it a chance.
So won't you carve upon this granite heart
that longs for the easy rain of your embrace.
Etch upon these alabaster walls with love's italic hand,
the seven lettered splendor known unabashedly as FREEDOM.
Let it be the only thing
the angels care to dream,
when imagining eternity.
Let none atone
the only thing
set in stone.
Written February 15th, 2016.
Entered in the contest A Tomb of Ancient Bloom hosted by Justin Bordner.
Chosen Poem of the Day on February 17th, 2016
Placed First
adventure, growing up, hip hop, repetition, word play
A ONE STEP AT A TIME ©
Life is but a hopscotch path
Players vying for placement
Rules to follow aground
Tokens used for good luck
Practice runs lead to safe landings
Over ever-changing terrains
Hop skip and jump!
Land on a crack
You break your Mudder’s back
Marbles fill a bag of loot
Once directed into home holes
Missed turns are your takings
Marbled cat eyes forever coveted!
Crayons come in packs
Pick a colour to your taste
Roses are red
Violets are blue
Black is for rain clouds
Gone is a sun yellow
A is for Apple-
B is for Bunny-
C is for caterwauling
Letters up for a draw
Lettered tongues speak
The bad, good and the ugly
Making mountains out of mole hills!
Name-calling never hurts
Pain hurts from thrown stones
Calling one to take a chance
Towards another hopscotch
With hop skips and jumps
One step, two steps, three steps more!
4 letters can describe us all
Sane, Slim, True, Tall
ironic and solemn
Your 4 letters Will change
Love. Hate.
Here. Gone.
simplistic and short
yet complex and infinite
Baby to Wife
Wife to Mama
This is Your
Four lettered Word
pasted within Your incredulous Mind
Your 4 letters.
even you Will Hide.
****. Spic. Tard. Twit.
oh no! no, no one can Know.
Hide. Hide. Hide.
no one Shall Know my Most
precious Word
ridiculed and cursed
ashamed and misunderstood
Hide From Your True Self
Hide From That
Four lettered Word
in the end our 4 letters Will all be the Same
no one can escape From This
villainous Word
It lingers the longest
seared swiftly on the Soul
This
Foul Four lettered Word
cursed Upon us all
is
Dead.
Sometimes I wonder.........
Where will I be when I get old
Who will love me for my soul
Thoughts of loneliness cross my mind
Am I running out of time?
It’s so scary in this desolate place
Staring out a window into space
What have I done during my time here on earth?
Who will be waiting on me? Did I earn my worth?
Life passes by really fast
Always thought my time would last
Thinking of my people that have gone on before me
Do they know…...Is that where they’ll be?
Remembering the last smile I saw on his face
Will I have to run his same race
Will they leave me alone to think of my time of the past
Or will they surround me to celebrate and have a blast
Pictures and memories is all that’s left
Tear after tear while I take deep breaths
Stones and lettered monument will be there for me
The sunshine and the storms pass while I sleep
In this narrow place I will lie
Unable to speak, unable to cry
Thy will is done and now time moves on
Who is next? Who will be gone?
Sometimes I wonder……………
By Johnnie Eaves
I've heard words falling from lips like petals
My poems praised like dead heroes
For unbequeathed solacies
And sometimes a genius ask me where
Do the words from come from
Like drops of blood to stain a memory
I smile
Repress the bloom of agony
And wished if only they know
Every word is every drop me
Nothing to waste
Of images
Needling through the story like a cloth
A tapestry of my pain,
Things lost that I never celebrated
Things I cannot reclaim
Haunting me from an undead past
Love burried
Rumbling for a ressurection
Just to kiss the moon again.
Drop by drop
The water falls from green leaves
That cannot drink the diamonds of their diadem
Taste it, without the salt of sea or blood
Heaven writes it poem in a flood
And I am the sea, I catch them all
The sorrows of the world brooding in me
To peel your clothes away
And touch the delicacy of your skin
Like memories touch
The portals of a pregnant day.
Once in a while I am a man
A card will come
RSVP lettered in gold upon silk
I show my face
Beside the blue of sea, a palm leftover
From the struggles with the storm.
Once in a while
I write nothing but a tear
For the broken spell I had on you
And wish like a poem
I could stain your heart with love.
"The Big Guns"
A woman goes into war
with the matrimony of
Life and Death
a wound left empty
a gash pushing up
daisies where bleeding
seeds don’t bloom no more
So love puts the big guns
in her hands, bullets loaded
from the mind hell bent
on breaking the walls
caught in the sticky web
of that black lettered Perdition
Naked I came
from my mother’s womb
And naked I shall return
what’s given is taken away
the loss irretrievable
opens a new road home
Gangster all the way
On the run
with the Big Guns
Misery be gone
Love’s a racketeering assassin
cutting losses, risking what remains
on a final heist to be won
“Sometimes Losers
are Winners,” She grinned
“You are holding
the Big Gun”
Hands on the wheel
Silver Lady is driving Blue Sky
his head turned, smiling
towards the burning Sun
An alternative beginning
long way to the end.
First,
Some adventure,
First,
Some Fun.
(LadyLabyrinth / 2020)
“Bang Bang Bang”/Dorothy
https://youtu.be/8Hi7Z8MK9t0
artiste: Gabe Leonard
"Keep Moving"
Her language drips with intelligence
The slow drizzle of innuendos
and proclamations from which
she speaks is like witnessing
stalagmites and stalagtites
finally touching as if
each syllable was measured
by a drip
so edifying
And it's not just what she says
but how her lips catch the light
of a candle glow
and how the corners of her mouth
dance with her dimples,
her essence is edible
quite incomprehensible
how one can starve
by tasting it
I love every morsel,
every crumb that falls haphazardly,
to the floor, jealous of the way,
her tongue can be so judgemental,
inviting then inciting, enveloping
making me wish I had
lettered in spiritual dynamics.
I would have been a star
without ever touching a ball.
Her hello, and me running a million miles
in my mind trying to think of some other word
that rhymes with this title
other than bed...
I am fed
5. Murasame’s Story Concludes
("Noh" is an ancient Japanese style of
drama, broadly similar to Elizabethan
tragedy. "The Wind in the Pines" is
my version of a well-known Noh play.)
MATSUKAZE & MURASAME
(chanting in harmony)
Pine wind, and autumn rain,
women, sorrow: men, disdain!
MURASAME
As men are ready to play games,
poets are keen to give names.
He said I was the moon in wane,
so he named me after the autumn rain.
My sister's singing is divine,
and he likened her to the wind in the pines.
MATSUKAZE & MURASAME
(chanting in harmony)
Pine wind, and autumn rain,
woman in love, woman insane!
MURASAME
He turned our rice water into milk.
Our fustian gowns became silk.
Three summers we passed, in sensual bliss,
and now we are reduced to this -
ladling brine on a moonlit shore,
never to see our lover more.
MATSUKAZE & MURASAME
(chanting in harmony)
Pine wind and autumn rain,
prisoners in the moon's domain!
MURUSAME
Where humans gather, sickness thrives,
diseases claim uncountable lives.
Returning to the Imperial Court,
Yukihira selfishly sought
his own lettered architrave,
but found instead a common grave.
MATSUKAZE & MURASAME
(chanting in harmony)
Pine wind and autumn rain,
he will not come back again.
MURASAME
Two keepsakes, which we still hold dear -
my sister has them, brings them here -
a man's cloak and a court cap:
leather band, and understrap:
with reverence, see, she gathers them close:
to us, they are his living ghosts.
MATSUKAZE & MURASAME
(chanting in harmony)
Pine wind and autumn rain,
ghosts we are, and must remain!
hmmmmm
haven't decided
anything about it
yet maybe i'll not say
whatever comes to mind
just thoughts happening now
in the present this instant already
arrived right here quite without contest
but happening in a way such that nothing
continues on and on without circular support
and that all is just one big darn jumble of words
that goes by in a momentary blur as a lettered page
that means nothing more than what it says now stating
itself to be as anything else other than simply what it is and
such that the mumbo jumbo which runs on forever clearly about
nothing such that when and if taken up by politicians it becomes real
...................................................................................................
stam samd
She lives her love day by day
with all that is feminine,
a touch,kiss or knowing look,
concern,red-lettered in her book;
Particular to detail
self-sacrifice a routine,
as she walks the extra mile,
ever ready with a smile;
The days news eager to hear,
her wise counsel,stills a fear
open arms brings her love near,
her warmth dries a child's tear.
Patience to give herself,time and again
soft and beautiful and feminine.
| Year Posted 2010
The music stepped aside,
as the words cut in to dance
Painting the floor red
in lettered steps of eternity
To a song now consonant
in verses of celebration
Thoughts and feelings remarry
—in patterns of remembrance
(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2015)
I am black and I say to kindred flames...
Never assert nor cry "things are the same".
It is the height of dishonor to our fathers,
Our hidden figures of the past, and our martyrs.
We no longer must hide. No need for underground trains.
Do not keep blaming injustice. It's a crooked cane.
Wait for the hand of the oppressor? That is madness!
Why would the oppressed ask the slave owner for access?
Let's take it upon our lettered selves to advance.
So, do not say "things are the same". Now is our chance!
If one hidden figure can succeed, there are no excuses.
If one hidden figure has engineered, where are the nooses?
It is a disgrace to our history to assert "things are the same".
It is a dishonor to our hidden figures...a noose and a chain.
I do not know what I'll find
if I pull off your hijab
Perhaps a cobra lurks to bite
Whose venom will kill wit
I've bared my heart into sonnets
Sadly you will never read them- you aren't lettered
You're rather numbered counting naira notes
by the fireside where you fry awara
but I know you'll listen to my eyes
that tells the number of stars
exploding within by this stuttering tongue and frosted sweat
thawing under the radiance of your dimples.
In the dark corner where the cry of almajiri crowns the night
I will be waiting to elope with you arm in arm via our eyes with wings
where we can stand above the earth with every altitude heavenward
veiling the steeple and the minaret.
It began with rain, pelting
yellow daffodils to the ground.
Sleet rode rain's coattails,
staccato dings on our windshield.
In the empty parking lot,
black-lettered buses stood
empty; no church today.
Through potato-soup lunch,
we watched quarter-size
snowflakes cover sleet.
Over hours of a long, gray day,
snow mounded, transformed
familiar objects into phantoms.
Suet cake brought birds,
squabbling for food,
through the rising mantle.
One kicked snow behind
on the deck floor, its tiny feet
scratching like a chicken.
Wild Wind swept in,
shoved snow off tree limbs,
cleared rooftops, created
a sweeping screen of white
in the snowy air.
World without color,
a total whiteout of raw beauty,
surpassed only by concern
for the birds.
"Beyond lychgate lies future death" she says,
cucumbered eyes slid back under cauliflower sky,
brimming smithereens of harkening demons.
Been in saddle some time since torchlight began,
a child's silent castle ago. Chaos-times cut alleyways
through rose-lettered circles, reads trashy maid.
The journey fell sword north along shield path.
Peninsula late to temple-crawling fiend
and settle princess patter dust. Like trick glass
the moon palace emanates, a chain works
its crystal door. A shore of bane swims world-sick
with fire-wing ticks abreast, dragon-headed air:
happens to be, as the world burns...
Spring chickens looked at first
grasshopper leaves, blossoms.
Empty saddles of burnt Autumns
sit with moccasin thirst.
One ruby night ago, vampire night,
made movie set by tail light.
Wrench of fog came loose and fell.
Eye of moon too close, well...
Winged skeletal open sheet,
sanguine collar of his neat.
Began by serving up the meat.
Legs he tossed, and arms and feet.
A rise and shine ago, luster of sight,
out of scene the farmer goes.
Steel machine cranks horizon bright.
Scroll up the title i suppose.
Barn stall features dingy leather
where lasting gleam slips by candle.
Recall adventure, mural by weather.
Motion eye attached to handle.
Scoot across encrusted bucket,
folded over the eating depth.
Put filthy Kraken atop it,
swished around the damn mess.
Brave journal follows company
down the water-taped steps
to where there isn't any.
Sealed flame lights diver's quest.
A cave away, keys of hassle,
swim to shore with hopes unravel.
Brute force thunders far within.
Exact the sword to have them send.
Enter bar stool and order takeout.
Hostess charm enhanced the make out.
Her fuel adds flames to very fabric.
Her fists were fiery, action: magic.
Out of dust broom closet knelt good
ole nuke we ended up sneaking places:
peaceful village of the caring hood,
small reaches, to parking spaces.
Twisted hair in castle braids,
scoundrel bristles painting raids.
Countdown pistol official use,
punching bag for ogre face.