Best Lifebeautiful Poems
It was on the other side of the rainbow
When I slid into a dream
I guess at that time nothing was, as it truly seemed
People came and people went
The needle played my blues
Through the rainbow dreams into leprechaun schemes
I was Papa Smurf with the magic brew
I built a Crystal Castle
On the shores of nevermore
I guess sometimes I wonder, “What was I searching for”
Beauty danced with big brown eyes
Though the faces always changed
Many times I slept with gals I thought were rather strange
Magic slides that no one hides
I wonder where they go?
I once slid down the rainbow just to see the show
The stars are bright it’s a beautiful night
Moonbeams illuminating mushrooms all around
Here by my house crickets and frogs are the only sound
Fairies dance like fireflies
It’s really quite the sight
Ever tripped down Hollywood and Vine on a Friday night
I have lived through many dreams
Shared many angels souls
Shattered dreams and broken schemes, nothing but empty goals
Broken hearts torn apart
Blowing in the wind
Like fairy dust you just can’t trust
Not even your closest friend
I dove into a crystal pool on the other side of the hill
I swear sometimes in my ears I can hear the ringing still
I rode upon the tornado just to go spinning through the sound
Landed in a concrete room bouncing all around
Leprechauns and rainbows
Unicorn’s beautiful and white
When I finally kicked the horse
It wasn’t a pretty sight
Like a frog on the log or a sick old dawg
Just a skeleton in a box
With the strength of Arthur's sword and trust in the Lord
I shattered a thousand locks
Now I’m back on this side of the rainbow
And every thing’s looking bright
My Guinevere is here and I love her dear
She is such a lovely sight
Trials come like waterfalls
Flooding though our life
I truly am a lucky man to face them with my wife
Well let’s gig the frog and fire up the log
We’ll roast us a pig tonight
Life is good in my neighborhood
Nary a single vice
The other side of the rainbow now seems so very far away
I guess that is really about all I have to say
A beautiful tree
Grew
It faced the sun
Every day
New leaves revealed
Such magic
Has begun
I watched it grow
Over the years
I talked with it too
Just like a son
That I had come to know
Strong and true
It grew
And grew
Such beautiful branches and leaves
Every season
A new colour
I loved it too
A tree
That I knew
Had a heart
Of that I am sure
For that tree
Loved me
It whispered to me
In a language
Only I could know
For the tree
Knew me so
When I was a boy
The tree was young too
We grew together
Watching storms
Rain passing
The seasons too
I lived my life
With my tree
I became old
The tree…
Grew and grew
Before I was too old
I took my last walk
Down to my tree
To say a few words
To a member of my family
The last good bye
To my tree
I accepted with a sigh
My own frailty
Tears can shed upon
The bark
Of my tree
I will not last the winter
Or see another spring sun
In that coming winter
The only thing I could see
Was from a castle window
All I asked for
Was to be buried
Underneath
My tree
April seven is joined together in two special ways
My wife and Carol Brown were each born that day
In so many ways, they remind me of each other
For each one has the heart and soul of a mother
Like a great big clown riding a little bitty bike
Antoinette and Carol are the type we naturally like
Two separate women who hold pieces of my heart
Although, each one holds a completely different part
Antoinette was able to see what no one had seen
Inside of this nightmare lived a very beautiful dream
Carol’s beautiful heart was able to help me to see
Poetry Soup was exactly the place I needed to be
Two very different women with two similar souls
Played significant roles in my reaching my goals
One helped me piece together my shattered heart
The other helped me keep it from falling back apart
I think I’m truly about as lucky as any man can be
There are so many different people care about me
Carol is just one of many I love here on the soup
I’m lucky to have landed in such a beautiful group
Carol, never doubt the truth in these words I say
This is the highest complement I could ever pay
To be written alongside a poem with my wife
Means “I Love & Respect” every drop of your life
You’re the very first to have landed in this spot
Old friend I reckon that means I love you a lot
April seventh I’ll proudly find my knee’s and pray
You’ll have a wonderfully blessed special birthday
i wanted to write Carol a Happy Birthday poem
but I wanted to give it special meaning. Anyone
who knows how much I love, admire, and adore
my wife; knows that for me to place someone in
a poem alongside her, is the highest complement
I could ever make. Carol thank you for the love,
friendship, support and prayers you have given me
over the years. I'm very honored to be your friend.
Tomorrow ain't here yet,
Its still hours away
And when it comes,
I hold onto it
Only to realize it's an illusion.
In my grasp
Is today, and today
Is not enough,
Is not what I expected.
Once again, I hedge my bets
On tomorrow.
Then a million tomorrows
Pass me by,
Or so it appears
When I look back.
Looking back at the wasted
Yesterdays, I put back on
My rose coloured shades
And look towards tomorrow.
I, eventually, regretted my yesterdays
And dreamt of tomorrows,
Then one day, I looked
At the today that stood
Before me, recognizing it what it is.
Today was the clay,
I could still mold
Into the tomorrow I yearned for.
Today was the marble
Ready and waiting for my chisel.
The blank canvas
Prepared for my paint.
The blank page
At the ready for my words.
Slowly, with much resistance,
I put aside my rose coloured shades,
I pulled up my sleeves
And dealt with today.
I used the tools and lessons
Of yesterday and my desires
And wants for tomorrow,
And I made today
The foundation for a beautiful
Tomorrow.
The beautiful tomorrows
That became beautiful todays.
Entry submitted in honor of - Constance ~ A Rambling Poet ~
Rain, The Story 3/3
Her horse Past, wished that she should be with her new love,
So that, Rain may find a new loving companion,
To complete her future journey with a new experience,
In the world of love, happiness, joys and even pains too, but
Rain should try not to live any more,
In the world of fake happiness and alluring illusions,
Created by her horses Future and Past.
Her horse Past was happy to see, in the eyes of his friend Rain,
The seeds of a self made future and hopes to find a new life of love.
Rain looked in the eyes of her other horse Future and
Found the same message, as she had seen on the face of Past,
She knew that if she would look into the eyes of Future,
Horse Future would show, the glimpse of her new love to Rain, with whom
Rain may go ahead further in her life, but,
She made up her mind not to look into,
The enchanting eyes of her horses Past and Future,
Until she can live on herself, for building her new fate for her and a new future.
She was more confident now and looked towards the rising Sun,
As the Sun was inviting her to keep walking,
With confidence and smile to face and make her new destiny.
Rain kissed her best friends Past and Future and told them that,
She would not be asking them to show, her past or future again,
As she was now full of confidence, to face any situation,
For building her own fortune and future,
However, she would like them to be with her, as her best friends forever.
The charming and lovely Rain,
Now blessed with a new life of confidence,
Moved ahead with her two beautiful horses,
To face the life, in its true colors on her own,
Without fearing the risks of the future and
Caring for the dread of past.
Thus started the new journey of fairy like beautiful Rain,
In search of her love and adventures…
Ravindra
Kanpur India 28th Dec. 2010
Contest entry: For this contest only
Contest Name: Rain, The Story
Sponsored by: Constance ~ A Rambling Poet ~
Written by: Ravindra K Kapoor
I woke up on a fresh Friday morning and introduced myself to a new day
A sweet smile stretched and a beautiful kiss of the wind lay on my cheek
Brushing my teeth and heading off to the kitchen for a delicious breakfast,
A visitor knocked on my cheek’s door
Kind and caring I was, for I welcomed him and opened my pink castle’s doors
An old visitor, it was,
Beside him was a young man holding the old man like something dear
I invited both of them to the dining room where a long red carpet lay
and walls of pearls guarded my castle
My pink castle doors were strongly fastened; no air can survive
Coffee and tea were offered to the gentlemen in front of me
A sip from here and a gulp from there
Words began to mutter themselves out of the old man’s cave:
“Ab ovo, I am here with a wise gift to thee
I am here because it is time for thou to hold and protect thee wise
For it is a symbol of wisdom and not ignorance
It is a symbol of maturity and not childishness
Come my wise child, rise”
And so, the young man rose and approached towards me
In his hands was a parchment carved with beautiful scarlet ink
Vigilantly, I slowly opened it to read:
“Today, a wisdom tooth shall tear its way towards sunlight
For you, dear beholder, have become shrewd enough to be handed a crown
Never lose it, never leave it, never take it off
Never let anybody borrow it and never forget about it
Tonight, you shall feel pain, but you are strong
Hold on and don’t give up, for you shall behold a treasure”
Suddenly, a drift of whistling wind entered my castle
The visitors were gone,
Pain stroke, but a wisdom tooth grew…
Grandma is sleeping in her bed
one of her thin hands
lies on the quilt
with long, beautiful fingers
Her bed is in an empty room
nobody there
except a young lady from the past
with long, beautiful fingers
Grandma can't speak or sing
she can't even see a thing
still she has thin hands
with long, beautiful fingers
The young lady used to sing
she used to speak cheerfully
cook delicious food for mealtimes
with her long, beautiful fingers
Grandma is sleeping in her bed
her long, beautiful fingers on the quilt
out fly three white doves
not true beauties, just shadows
Oriental head dresses glisten in mid-morning sunlight
small waists fitted into tight girdles and large crinolines
move gracefully over chipped cobblestone
Men tip their top hats and wink at beautiful young women twirling decorative
umbrellas over well kept hair.
Church bells echo through streets of young children playing tag.
Men escort their wives over rain puddles collected at the gutters.
Old women browse shop windows smiling only when a bakery beckons them with
sweet smells of sugar and flour.
The town sways with love and greatness.
A small stage looms in the town center calling those seeking entertainment.
'Only two cents' for a ballet preview or 'three cents' for an opera opening.
At night couples, young and old descend decadent staircases at the ball, flaunting
beautiful dresses.
Singles curtsy before slipping into a slow waltz.
Weary mothers keep a close eye near by.
A beautifully painted sky provides moon light for long walks and sweet talks while
sleeping children lie safely under tucked in blankets at home.
Oh, such a beautiful scene.
I didn’t mean to invade her privacy,
I was simply taking the trash out late that night;
I never noticed how from the back of the house
You could see right into her bedroom when she turned on the light.
The curtains were sheer and not completely closed,
Her silhouette was outlined and her flesh exposed;
I am not a peeping Tom but in my tracks I froze,
Watching her tantalizingly removing her clothes.
She stood in front of her full length mirror;
I inched a little closer to see her clearer.
It was as if she was even teasing herself,
Slowly undressing and watching her own reflection;
Her fingertips caressing the smooth exposed flesh;
Her exhibition demanded my full attention.
She is twenty-five years old and my neighbor’s daughter;
I am twice her age and a little bit more;
I know I am wrong to be standing here watching
But a more beautiful nubile I’ve never seen before.
Her clothes are now strewn on the floor by her feet,
She is totally naked and pleased by the sight;
Slowly she turns looking over her shoulder,
Making sure all of her parts are shaped just right.
God must be very angry at me,
But, God created this wondrous beauty.
She took inventory of body parts with both of her hands,
Pleasing herself with her delicate touch;
I knew that I should be turning away;
I was enjoying her exploring a bit too much.
She kissed her own reflection returned in the mirror
Then turned and walked toward the windows;
Just before pulling down the night shade
She waved to me hiding in the shadows.
Ashamed of myself and embarrassed by my actions,
I returned to my house all alone;
She knew I was watching and vexed by her beauty,
It was me she was teasing all along.
Yet it brought back memories of when I was younger
And my wife more beautiful than she;
Although I’m a widower for seven long years,
That night, again my bride was with me.
Life is a canvas. Does it make any sense?
Of course not but, its a beautiful mess you can reminisce.
If life were a pattern, a distinct coarse, a set road
there would be a well worn path underneath our feet.
Yet, I feel fresh, untouched, upturned soil between my toes.
Will my canvas be a beautiful masterpiece of awe inspiring revelations?
Will my canvas be a monster of a mess in plain, agonizing precisions?
Its up to my feet and where they lead me. My feet are led by my heart.
My heart pulls me towards the north, somewhere in the black, where the stars and moon part.
I know what I want my masterpiece to look like and hopefully it will be,
but if I died tomorrow what would you see?
If I were stronger I could be a lot of things
I could forget my past
I could stand up for myself
I could sing louder and laugh more
I could show my true self
If I were wiser I could do a lot of things
I could think smart things
I could contribute to a conversation
I could be scientific
I could give good advice
If I were beautiful I could do a lot of things
I could tease with my beauty
I could break hearts
I could love without worry
I could get what I wanted
But I'm just me and
I'm not strong because I couldn't forget you
I'm not wise because I let myself need you
I'm not beautiful because I didn't get what I wanted
Hopefully you see me
Im here deceiving
If there is no turning back
As i become one
And all power evolves
Im here to destroy you
My beautiful prize
The one i've drown for
That one i gave blood for
The one i sold everything for
This is the rising sun
I know you hear me
And is gone to the grave
Make it rain trough the nights passing by
Alone and accompanied
They walk among us
much disguised
No one can see them
But everyone see me
My beautiful prize
The one i've drown for
That one i gave blood for
The one i sold everything for
This is a rising sun
Alone in the dark
With my devils besides me
The code is drowned
My useless hands
Enough to let me fall
In love with my future death
They are counted and overlooking at me
I know they are here
But i cannot understand
Hurry up and blow my head
Were is the air
Im sure alone
My beautiful prize
The one i've drown for
That one i gave blood for
The one i sold everything for
This is a rising sun
Beautifully deceived
Much to reject
I know is cold and lonely
But better off alone than with the devil
Bring us the 65 needles.
what lurks behind the shadows takes refuge in the
places that one cannot speak without a lawyer and
a place to stay when the going gets rough in the
shadows right out there buried & bustling without
restraint without subjection to the parameters in
which the most of us dwell & operate so obediently
on a daily basis throughout the utter insane boring
mundane nature of everyday existence & whether
or not you yourself choose to abide by these lines
drawn round your own individual life is of course
no one’s decision but your own but know that the
crayons in your hand are your own crayons and
there is no one alive who can make you color within
the lines if you feel that you don’t want to there is
no force out there that can make you sharpen the tip
with the convenient little crayon-sharpener that
resides on the back of the crayola box & of course
there’s no one out there who can make you draw on
lined paper, graphed paper, or even construction
paper for that matter if you want to you have the
right to draw all over everything around you the
chair you are sitting in the walls the floor the
pavement outside all over your clothes the windows
as you walk down the street the street itself because
who is going to stop you the worse that will happen
is that they will smack a label on you and lock you
up somewhere where the first thing that they will
do is pump you full of free drugs and place you in
a craft room anyway where you will receive a
pile of crayons and the whole process will start all
over again fear not those that want you to use your
crayons “correctly” for they cannot truly harm you
they can only wish silently inside themselves where
they think that all their little secrets stay hidden
that they could be just exactly like you and live in
the moment coloring whatever you feel like with
these beautiful crayons and leave the rest of life
alone to its beautiful shadows its wondrous “liars”
& “cheaters” & “thieves” & “murderers” & folks
that never for a second agreed to live by anyone else’s
rules except their own who let the untalented
uninteresting doorknobs of history decide in their
wake their value to society.
The feigned glories of war
With the fluttering flag
And the romanticized figures and bloodied bodies
Put a beautiful and patriotic image in your mind.
But the horrors of war are not beautified
With sugary words and hope.
No. The sight of it, feel of it
Can leave you trembling and wishing no more.
Once the ideas of a beautiful war diminished
Into the deepest, darkest depths of our minds,
We saw the terrible cause of discord.
Would war ever end?
Though we have attempted peace since WW1
We have fallen short and ended up
With more soldiers and more fatalities.
War is the violent compromising of two conflicting territories.
A way of foreign policy that causes mishap
And reluctance.
It causes weariness in civilians—
But will it ever cease to exist?
Is there no other way?
I've seen people who only complain about life
I've seen people who only smile to this beautiful life
I'm the type of person who is living to be smiley
Giving my all, my laughers and my smiles to stay happy
I don't stress myself, I don't regret, I don't get mad
They say I'm weird, i'm never angry, I'm never sad
But some times I wonder why some people kill other people, why do they steal
Why do they kill themselves , why they don't want to be real
Why there are wars in this world, why children die
What can we do to make this stop, how can stop the big lie
Nobody want to show their mistake, Nobody want to show their fake face
They just want to keep hiding and blame other race
The white says he is black, The black says he is red
The red says he is yellow, the yellow goes jumping..yet he is dead
This world is a mystery, this world is a little bit insane
But we should Irrigate it love , it is missing the lovely rain
Let's start a new day and keep smiling to this beautiful life
We are treating it bad, but it still give us all the care and love