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A
fine
Parrot Tulip
in vibrant intensities
with unique undertones
of green acquirable only in a
few forests. A ruby red swirls within
its petals beckons awareness of those very
strokes that live in the lustre of your shapely lips
like fantasy realized. Mirthful yellows in all those lacquers
barely ever seen as one would scorch their eyes to gaze lastingly
directly at the Sun - though I have been fortunate to witness identical
iridescence in strands of your hair you unintentionally flip and like dainty
fingers wave me on to move closer to your flawless frame - memorized easily.
A
special
fuchsia sparingly
paints the flower they
say exists only in certain
singular gemstones yet l know
this tincture for I have seen it in your
cheeks when we play and laugh. Oh your
laugh how it fills me - replacing noise surfing
the waves of sound in the surrounding atmosphere.
How enchanting when your laughter there - dwells to
tickle molecules invisible to the eyes but felt by the human
heart. Parrot tulips with their soft myriad shades become stunning
against a deep black backdrop which shimmers bright like your ebony eyes.
Sparkle like your smile and I grin happily just thinking of you, just thinking of us.
A
pearl
white that also
adorns the flower a
special light effect I have
found in your complexion - dazzles
my mind each and every time I see you.
Parrot tulips a miracle of nature, a special
breed I admit are as remarkable as any offering
that grows in our gardens but rarer still - you the flower
I share my life with. No one, no thing, no life compares to you,
your approach - for every time I even think of you, the joy it brings
completes the meaning of my existence full. If not for you no other delight
would have that extra zest I feel from the sharing of your love and light always.
A
Parrot
tulip oh
what joy it
brings. How the flower
draws these words from
me. Ironic how true allure felt
fills our glass so I thought I'd share
with you how it uplifts my days - knowing
confident in our love as one - you'd never resent
me speaking of an elegance other than yours. So you may
know - understand what the fibres of ones constitution compels
them to write. Now - about a mystique other than the one you sport with
humility. Finally I have written a poem on aesthetics that does not mention you.
A
closing
monologue.
Just above and
beneath the dirt grows
riches unimaginable. Made to
be absorbed by senses recognizable
only by a few. They are free for the taking.
An appreciation, a love of a natural essence.
A flower, a person, romance you breathe incomparable
to anything real or imagined. It alone are the wings we humans
seek...as real and as precious as all else consumable. How lucky I
am the magic handed out daily on these pages. The people I could never
find anywhere else then here. I am in love with their words in love with them.
the re frain
is a par r a
ot tu lip m
hid d a
en u j
n e
d s
e t
r i
c
e
v
e
r
g
r
e
e
n
earthearthearthearthearthearthearthearthearthearthearthearthearthearth
r r r r
o o oo
o o o o
t tt t
s s s s
r r r r
o o o o
o o o o
t t t t
s s s s
April 27 2015
The Gardener
Copyright © Maurice Yvonne | Year Posted 2015
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"THERE HE WAS HOLDING HIS HAND OUT"
=voice=
God, can I hold your hand and follow you?
"Gods voice"
My child, it is I who will walk with you! You walked down my path with and without faith. You took my protection to ease your pain. My shielded wings comfort you during your moments of suffering while your life staggered across earth. Your love and devotion are what made you strong. Every time your dreams were broken. You managed to build more dreams in their place. You called my name during your happiest and saddest moments. You ran to me when you fell behind. Your secrets became our private talks. The key to your heart was always unlocked. I was there during your trials and troubles and tribulations. We could not speak, it was my light that kept you from going weak.
=voice=
God, are you a dream of beauty? The holy book.
My preacher spoke of the afterlife, calling it paradise.
I remember now, I felt this company once before, this light.
Many times, I forsake the light and still you never left my door.
I felt it on the day I was born,
the day I became baptized in your holy name.
I felt this light before, can you explain it once more?
Lord pleases clarify the day I fell down to my knees, accepted Jesus as my savior?
On that day, I felt as if you stood away and walked on by, allowing me to face my failures’.
Was my life a waste in this impossible world?"
"Gods voice"
My child, this is the everlasting light you will feel every time your body is re-born onto a new road. This light never left you.
My sweet child did you not listen,
Matthew *19:26* MY SON looked at them and said, "With man this is impossible, but with ME all things are possible.
My child, you were not searching for the right answers.
=voice=
My Lord everyone told me if I prayed you would come. Did I not pray enough?
"Gods voice"
My child sometimes your heart asked for more than life itself,
I always answered even when you shunned heaven away from your eyes?
The obvious question is whether this is the final immersing of your soul's disguises.
=voice=
Lord, I have other questions to ask.
What should I expect out of my personal sins?
My testimonial sits in the palm of your hand
My mind and my heart's inner core have been wicked since my adolescence--
How is it that I am in your promise land?
"Gods voice"
Getting right with me has brought you here!
=voice=
One more question My Heavenly Father
Can I see My Daughter, Mothers, Sisters, family, and friends?
<3
Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2012
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Listen to poem:
t e t e
a l a l
s s s s
s s s s
l a l a
e t e t
IKNITTEDAWINTERSCARF
ALARGEINTRICATECASH
MEREFANCYPANTSGENT
LEMANJIMKINDOFNECKC
LOTHESPEOPLEWEARARO
UNDTHEIRPREVIOUSLYNA
KEDSKINBETWEENTHEIRH
EADSANDTHEIRSHOULDER
SWHICHREALLYCOUNTSIF
YOULIVEINABELOWZERO
WEATHERCITYWITHAFREE
ZINGCOLDATMOSPHERE
THATWILLMAKEYOURTE
ETHCLATTERANDCLINKMA
KINGSOUNDSTHATWOUL
DRATTLEEVENTHOSEWIT
HTHESTEADIESTOFNERVES
THETYPEWITHTHOSESTRO
NGJAWSTHATPOTRUDEBE
YONDTHEIRFACESANDDRI
VEFATBOYHARLEYMOTOR
CYCLESANDCOULDCRUSH
YOUWITHJUSTALOOKFROM
WHERETHEIREYESSITONTH
EIRVISAGEWHICHISASTRANG
EWORDTOUSEHERESINCEITH
INK"VISAGE"ISONEOFTHOSE
SOPHISTICATEDWORDSOFFR
ENCHORIGINWHICHISNOTARA
WCOUNTRYTYPESLANGKINDO
FWORDWHICHWOULDBEMUCH
MOREAPPROPRIATEFORBIKEM
ANANAMEICOINEDMYSELFFOR
MARKWHOTURNSOUTTOBEAN
UNEXPECTEDLYKINDGUYWHO
TURNSOUTSUITSTHEWORDVI
SAGEINFACTONEWITHAGREATS
MILETHATOCCASIONALLYPOPS
UPONMARKSFACEIACTUALLYE
VENGAVEHIMTHESCARFASAGIFT
(PAUSE)(2)(3)(4)ASWELLASMYW
ALLETMYCARKEYSMYCREDITCA
RDSMYPINNUMBERSMYWATCH
t e t e
a l a l
s s s s
s s s s
l a l a
e t e t
THE CASHMERE WOOL I USED TO KNIT A SCARF
I knitted a winter scarf, a large intricate Cashmere
fancy pants, Gentleman Jim kind of neck clothes people
wear around their previously naked skin between their
heads and their shoulders which really counts if you live
in a below zero weather city with a freezing cold atmosphere
that will make your teeth clatter and clink making sounds that
would rattle even those with the steadiest of nerves.
The type with those strong jaws that protrude beyond their faces
and drive FatBoy Harley motorcycles and could crush you with just
a look from where their eyes sit on their visage which is a strange
word to use here since I think "visage" is one of those sophisticated
words of French origin which is not a raw country type slang kind of
word which would be much more appropriate for bike man a name
I coined myself for Mark who turns out to be an unexpectedly kind guy
the type it turns out suits the word visage in fact one with a great
smile that occasionally pops up on Marks face I actually even
gave him the scarf as a gift (pause) (2)(3)(4), as well as my wallet
my car keys, my credit cards, my pin numbers, my watch...
Copyright © Maurice Yvonne | Year Posted 2016
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On a cloud I wrote - I love you
But the cloud blew away
On a tree I wrote - I love you
But someone cut down the tree
In the sand on the beach I wrote - I love you
But the waves wiped them away
In the wind, I cried - I love you
But the wind was too strong and no one could hear
In a small letter I wrote - I love you
But I never posted it - it was never sent
But you know - I love you
and my heart belongs to you
19.02.2013
A-L Andresen :)
Copyright © Sunshine Smile | Year Posted 2013
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FORGOTTEN TREASURE
I found the fountain of youth
When I stumbled across the forbidden garden
Right smack in the middle,
Was what I thought to be a wishing well
I tossed in a quarter!
Looking down with a puzzled face
I peeked to see where it fell
I leaned over and that's when I saw my vanity
It was always there waiting for me
The reflection in the water was my face
In wonder, I asked what this vision could be?
With one drop on my taste buds
I knew I found the one true key
The most beautiful thing that can set one free
I reached in to touch the poetry inside me
~5/31/11~
repost- My first poem on the soup
Copyright © SKAT A | Year Posted 2011
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~ECLIPSE~
The shining light hides behind my eyes,
Comes in a super nova surprise
My spirit glides into the skies,
Spreading the perfect heat like the sunrise
I was like a diamond under the beauty of the ocean!
My current rides out with smooth motions,
Leaving a taste with intense emotion
Captured by my tides, sunk to my love potion
The sun sends my waves like a mirage of snow
I got the moon to favor upon my glow
With every star touching my inner soul
A glimpse of darkness in my light entwining with a massive flow
Blinded by my own ECLIPSE!
My sun & moon collide
Until the day we both touch lips
by;p.d.
Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2010
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The Library of Trust and Hope
The Bank of Trust and Hope
(Cant decide on title, so feel free to pick or suggest one)
She was all but four years of age
Birthdays were such magical moments
The cake was filled with candles
The balloons still in their package twelve on the table
Daddy daddy, I can not fill these balloons!!
They are not magic like you said!!!!!
Do not fret Maria, its daddy who is magical
I shall help you little one, let me see those balloons
Sure enough daddy blew up twelve white and pink balloons
Maria was in awe at daddy’s magical powers
She knew her daddy would fight dragons to bring her but a smile
Maria knew she was safe in daddy's arms, oh what a birthday this will be
Maria was now ten years older
Fourteen years old and already filled with so many happy memories
On this fall day, home from school
There was grandpa in the back yard as usual
He was tending his garden of roses
When she was younger, he told her they were magical roses
Grandma would speak to him in his magical garden
From the heavens above
Now at eighteen, daydreaming in a coffee shop
A stranger picks up a rose from an empty table
A smile oozing in charm, stares into her eyes
This is for you, beauty for beauty
She was swept off her feet, in a whirlwind romance
They danced and dined, it seemed all on her dime
Until the morning she awoke, completely alone
Both lover and credit cards did abscond
Now twenty one, and wise to the world
Absorbed in her studies, somewhat colder than one should be for that age
A chilly fall day in an empty library
A stranger comes, giving her a drawing of a red rose
Hello he says! I drew this for you!
Oh no she thinks to herself, not another one!
Politely she smiles and replies thank-you, but I am taken
This stranger smiles right back and says, the drawing is for you no matter
The next week, and the weeks after, the same routine
He comes to her with a drawing of another beautiful rose
She politely declines his advances
Maria knows that a rose, has a stem, and that comes with pricks
The twelfth week and here he is again
What is the poor girl to do?
She is curious, and she can not quite help herself
She asks, from what do you draw such beautiful flowers?
He smiles kindly and replies
How about next week, I show you?
We can have a coffee, and discuss art
Hesitating she just can not say no to this simple gesture of kindness
They are walking along, and surprisingly she finds herself
Quite intrigued with the ease of their conversation
He takes hold of her hand, and says I live over there, the house in red
She has no time to object as he pulls her forward to the backyard
She stares in absolute shock and awe at what appears before her
Why its the most beautiful, wonderful, enchanting English garden she ever saw
You? she stammers, you made this?
He smiles shyly and says; well now you know what inspires my drawings
Now Maria is eighty and filled with both happiness and sadness
Her husband of all these years has passed on
To be with all his precious roses in the heavens waiting
She sits in their garden, remembering a life time of memories
She picks a single rose, and inhales its fragrance
Contemplating the wisdom's of life
I miss you so much my love
You taught me trust is earned and not given
Your love was my blanket of happiness, wait for me my love,
I am yours eternally
Dear Reader
I was lucky in life to have had a good upbringing. My daddy, showered me with love, but most of all he taught me that gifts were not objects, balloons were not magical, nor was he. I learned that what was magical is the time and effort he took to love me, and protect me and those memories I so cherish, but they also he showed me the values I hold dear in myself and those around me.
Then there was dear old grandpa. His garden was his passion, and I suspect that if I could have had more time to spend with him, it was really grandma’s passion, and after her passing, this was the activity that kept him close to her soul. In that respect, I guess it was truly a magical garden. Whenever he saw me, his eyes would light up, he would pour lemonades and he told me such wonderful stories. Unlike many though, he listened to all my troubles and told me, that in life I had to learn some things the hard way, but that he himself knew for a certainty that I would find the love and happiness, that as a young women, I felt would be lost to me forever.
I re-tell my story for all the people out there that have lost trust in others, or have lost hope in humanity. You may have your heart stolen for awhile, someone can bring you sadness, but never let them steal your soul. Learn that trust is earned, not given, and never punish the rest of the world, for your bad experience, for ultimately it is you who suffers most. Be giving, kind and generous, with a strong will and mind. If someone does not respect you, then they shall never earn your trust, and that’s how it should be. Be wise, be prudent, be safe, but most of all be open to love and kindness
God bless
Maria Sefue
Copyright © arthur vaso | Year Posted 2015
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"Shhh, look there they are.
No one believed me.
Now you see them too.
A blessing of Unicorns.
If anyone knew where they were
it would be the end of the Unicorns.
The one with the wings is the Queen.
See how sad she looks.
She has separated herself from the blessing.
She loves the other Unicorns
but she is dealing with her own issues.
They love her, she knows that.
This is different.
She has to deal with this herself.
She knows she is loved.
She knows they all care for her.
Deeply!
She is their Queen after all.
What?
A song?
Maybe!
I don't know.
I brought poetry.
I brought soup.
I have to try.
I hope she believes me.
She is going to be fine.
I dreamt about her.
In the dream her wings were spread.
You should of seen them spread
they must of spanned farther than the horizon
higher than the milky way.
In my dream her magic horn was a beacon,
it was leading her through the dark
but she was also a beacon for everyone else.
Everyone who was trapped in the darkness.
She led them too!
She always has.
She is our Queen after all.
I stood there amazed
she was magnificent.
She waited patiently and the light filled her.
She knew it would happen and she was right.
That hand from up above
the one she always trusted
filled her with light.
She is the Queen and in my dream
she had returned in her full glory."
Linda was back.
It starts with an L
L stands for love.
Maybe It's not a dream.
'Fairy tales can come true -
It can happen to you...
life gets more exciting with each
passing day...!'
I believe dreams are
just a window to reality.
I believe in Fairies.
I believe in Unicorns.
And I believe in Linda!
08~12~2014
Sponsor: Shadow Hamilton
Contest Name: Fighting Depression(poems for PD)
Copyright © Maurice Yvonne | Year Posted 2014
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PROLOGUE
The Flame, aflicker, licks and flays,
illuming evening’s negligees
With braided curls she swirls and sways,
and flits and floats in light ballets
APOLOGUE
A Flame, to conquer creeping fog,
flew dancing towards a random log
Her flight perplexed a leery frog
beside a silent somber bog
The Flame, a ripple, all alone
alit on leaves where birds had flown
The aching twigs began to moan
A rising breeze began to groan
The Flame arrayed an ancient oak
with torrid tongues and veils of smoke
A beaver bailed, the dam had broke
The leery frog soon ceased to croak
The Flame uncoiled and lashed midair
and cauterized with utmost care
A cold coyote fled her lair,
left trapped behind... a torpid bear
The Flame, unfurled, went wild and grew,
enkindled cats and caribou
Remaining... not a residue,
as reeking vapors bade adieu
The Flame revealed her strength unshackled
Flora, fauna crisped and crackled
Fire Witches clucked and cackled
One more forest stripped and hackled...
EPILOGUE
The arsonists were well aware
the Flame would travel everywhere...
The weirs are gone, the land is bare,
and soon you’ll find a city there
Copyright © Terry O'Leary | Year Posted 2012
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"a shining star"
a shining star you shall always be
a jewel in the cosmos that I see
like the snow that glistens white
like the moon that shines bright
you bring out the best in me
when you stand before the ocean blue
feel a gentle embrace intended just for you
when you see a pearl or shell in the sand
know it is me taking you by the hand
know your heart and soul will renew
a grand piano or a single guitar
a source of strength from afar
with words that I have none to give
with hope and love may light live
a shining star is what you are
SkyWatcher - 04-09-17
Copyright © Lisa Ricci | Year Posted 2017
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Can love then, be based
on an index of elements
from which one joyfully tumbles,
or drifts into equations, as we wander
toward a rush of serendipity ...
a metaphysical merging of ardor
writhing in a shared communion
like tuneful whispers in breaths of helium,
unabbreviated oxygen rhapsodies
from unbidden laughter,
invigorating the warmth of co-owned stars
on heaven’s destined oracle?
Love transcends chemical derivatives
of fractals or measurement,
between our atoms, relaxed
in the shuffle of emotional electrons
as we quiver weightless...
the heart’s embrace suspended together
in the affectionate cosmos
of a deep kiss.
-------------
“How on earth can you explain in terms
of chemistry and physics so important
a ...phenomenon as first love? “-- Albert Einstein
Anthony Slausen’s Periodic Table Of Elements
12/31/2014
Copyright © nette onclaud | Year Posted 2015
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An old man
A Grumpy bitter old man
Bitter face
Red nose
Wrinkled beady eyes
Scruffy clothes his best attire
Life has not been kind
So his bitter words bite those around
He lived alone, inside his madness
Leave me be and go to hell
His favorite expressions
The phone rang one night late
This is the Court sir, your brother’s son and family
Have been in a terrible accident
Only your niece of four survived
When can you pick her up?
The old man was in a daze
What the hell was he being punished for now
Keeping care of a dam kid
What the bloody hell did he know about that?
"Well sir, we will be expecting you tomorrow, 9am prompt please"
Walking back to his flat, with a 4 year old girl in tow
Well the neighbors gawked to say the least
The poor little girl, tears and teddy, trying to keep up with grumpy
Once inside his flat, he looked at her with disdain
Said "Guess you be expecting some food or some such"
She nodded, as sad as she was, she was indeed hungry
He showed her the cupboard and fridge, milk and cereal in there
Help yourself, and wash the dam dishes afterwards
Don’t got no extra bed, so you sleep here on the couch
She nodded silently, thinking the world truly must have ended
Days, turned into weeks, turned into months
This little girl complained not once
All she could think of was her pain
Mummy and daddy were in heaven where ever that was
Why they left her was truly confusing
Friday was her birthday
She was sad and missing her family
Getting ready, she went to the cupboard for dinner
The old man said what the hell you doing that for?
She shivered in fear, he was always so so so mad
She apologies, sorry uncle Pete
He replied you sit your self down right there
And you be quiet you here?
Then the lights all of sudden went out
Bright tiny candles burned in the night
The old man, said, is your birthday after all
Hope you don’t mind these little cupcakes I got us here
She looked at him with new eyes
He turned, not quite smiling, no miracles just yet
They ate in silence after which, he said good night and happy birthday
The next morning even they really never talked
Other than who does what chores
Or how expensive she was to care for
She asked out of the blue
"Uncle, why do angels have wings?"
In his usual grumpy way, he replied
"So they get the hell away from us as fast as they can is why
This world is no place for happiness or angels get used to that"
She was taken back by his bitterness, still………
She replied, “but I dream on them looking over me uncle"
Well he looked at her, and somewhat softly and with unusual kindness
He answered her "that’s because you are one of them, a sweet little angel"
She ran into his arms and gave him a big hug
This was a very good thing.
For then she could not see the single tear the dropped to the floor
He actually hugged her back and with all of his heart
That day, a day for most people that was a normal day
Was for him and his little charge, a miracle
A small loving child, held that secret key
To opening an old mans heart
Copyright © arthur vaso | Year Posted 2015
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Poetry
Is not the poem
Is not the poet
Is the observations
Is the emotions
Is the diversity. entwined
Opposing views always sought
Is the love
Is the hate
Is the sadness
Of losing to fate
Is the laughter
Of a child’s dreams
Is the love
That is sometimes unseen
Except by the poet
Who in his lonely sadness sees
The beauty of all
That surrounds the depression in he
In Poetry
I died
Long ago
My heart something broke
I became cold
I cried
For childhood days gone by
I died
A million ways
Now I write
From down below
Where darkness is the sea
That I sail in eternity
Of in the distance
I heard the notes of a symphony
So now as I sleep
A thousand deaths
I hope
For that one musical note
To wake me up
Heart and soul
Copyright © arthur vaso | Year Posted 2015
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I tracked along a silver trail
carved out from Earthly dust
by rays persistent in the dark
and midnight wanderlust.
It led me to a bubbling fount
of sulfurous mud and tar;
whereupon I chanced a glimpse
and found a fallen star.
An ancient from celestial realms
ensnared terrestrially
dimly glowing in the murk
I heard it sing to me:
Sojourner of the moonlit way
I sense thy beating heart
I’ve travelled from infinity
now hearken ere you part.
You roam upon this infant orb,
you draw from it thy life,
but I sense greed and evil scorn
and no land void of strife.
I beg you tell me how it came
that creatures such as thee
have found such hatred in thy souls
to punish endlessly.
It’s not so bad, I said out loud
we know of love as well…
as to the fate of mother Earth
I simply can’t foretell.
The ground beneath my weary feet
gave way to empty space
then all around me in the void
I saw the human race.
Starving children, ill and gaunt
were kicked by wing-tipped shoes.
Females ranging every clime
in silence nursed abuse.
In darkness men were plotting war
in light their banners raised
it mattered not which way I looked
some evil met my gaze.
Make it stop, I beg you please!
Why poison thou my mind?
What can I do to stop all this,
is no good left to find?
Sojourner of the moonlit way
I sense thy beating heart
I’ve travelled from infinity
now hearken ere you part.
You roam upon this infant orb,
you draw from it thy life,
and though you’re one of many men
love in thy chest is rife.
You must return to whence you came
you must confer abroad
the goodness that within thee burns
seek first to serve the flawed.
Think on the vast expanse of space
so empty, dark and cold…
and how despite the hopeless cause
star-light you still behold.
So too might thou, if you’ll but try
endure this awful plight
for in the vast expanse of hate
love is thy shining light.
07/16/15
Copyright © The Grahamburglar | Year Posted 2015
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I’d like you to bring me a dinner for two -
A serving for me and a serving for you.
I’ll order up something that we two can share.
Please bring it, then sit with me! Pull up a chair!
We’ll start with a salad. I hope you won’t mind
this salad will be of the specialty kind,
the kind made of rainchokes and fiddlehead roots,
and topped with wassava and sharkflower shoots.
And after our salad, we’ll have the main dish:
some Teek Bourguignon, or lardines if you wish
See, it just doesn’t matter what food that we eat,
as long as you join me! Please, pull up a seat!
Then after our meal, some dessert will be nice;
I’ll order us up some sweet cragberry ice!
We’ll top it all off with some coffee flown in
especially from the small island of Dwin.
I’ll thank you, dear waiter, for serving my needs;
I’ll tip you with plenty of Dol-yapper seeds
For, you see, I don’t eat alone, not anywhere!
So bring it, then sit with me! Pull up a chair!
Copyright © Becca Teagan | Year Posted 2017
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Love
knows
no age
or beauty
Love
knows
no rich
or poor
Love
knows
no religion
or race
Love
knows
no straight
or gay
Love
knows
no boundary
or reason
Love
knows
no distance
or time
Love
knows only
the rapid beating
of a giving heart sublime
Copyright © Charmaine Chircop | Year Posted 2014
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To take each day as it comes
To gratefully praise The One
Joyfully face the new dawn’s grace,
That's now my everyday plan.
To take each day as it comes
To guard my thought as it roams
On anything or anyone
That's now my everyday plan.
To take each day as it comes
To be careful with my words
To use the value of my hands
That's now my everyday plan.
To take each day as it comes
To do everything I can
And bring a smile to not just one
That's now my everyday plan.
To take each day as it comes
To celebrate other’s gain
Not consciously cause another's pain
That's now my everyday plan.
To take each day as it comes
Not all the time comes the sun
For sorrow comes to everyone
And that I must understand.
To take each day as it comes
And know that I’m but a man
I will be glad, life’s not that bad
And do my part in God’s plan.
*A resolution during a time of disappointment.
Kim Patrice Nunez
04 August 2015
image credit: Edwin Hofert
Copyright © KP Nunez | Year Posted 2015
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A Bridge Over Silent Waters
Never judge your fellow man
Before seeking your own reflection
Not the one that shines in a glass mirror
Seek it in the eyes of your fellow man
His eyes shall reflect your compassion or lack there of
When a pond has no ripples
Look for the lies, underneath
When you see the waves upon the water
Know that the winds are singing to you
Truth will always seek you out
Never close your heart to a strangers smile
His smile may bring you serenity or deception
Trust in your inner being to know
It shall open up towards the rainbows or seek refuge
To protect your soul
When you see a human suffering
Flea not inside your reflection
Instead reflect upon his suffering
Share the waters of your pond with him
This shall promise you both more rainfall
Notes
This was inspired by a poem written by Charmaine, she was kind enough to let me use a few of her lines in the first verse of this poem. Its amazing how when you read something it can open your mind to think of things you otherwise would not have. For some reason, maybe more because of his messages than his style I find myself thinking of Richards’s poetry as well. This for me is the beauty of the site, the inspiration one gets from fellow poets, it’s a great honor to have met so many, and to have shared so many ideas and views and opinions. More important than any poem is the laughter and smiles, this among friends is like giving away gold bars. (Although I do accept the occasional gold bar now and then)
Copyright © arthur vaso | Year Posted 2015
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The Devils Riddle
Dark is the night
Dark is the soul
Dark is the heart that used to glow
Empty are the rainbows falling from the skies
Empty of the spirits when the darkness flies by
Empty is the treasure chest of dreams long gone
Tombs hold secrets of mysteries past
Tombs hold the dark to ensure it will endure
Tombs full of treasures are barren at last
Stones are grey in silence they sit
Stones are markers of the dark run amiss
Stones look up to overcast skies
death looks down, the final curtain call
smirks and winks, I will soon have you all
dark and empty you shall soon be enslaved
to the mysteries of dark empty ways
there is no final place that you shall rest
emoH the angel of death has declared
“oN graves the trumpets play as I shall sing”
Copyright © arthur vaso | Year Posted 2014
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I see the pain
Reflected via turquoise blue
Of the oceans hue
She stares out into the oceans depth
Lost
Her lover dead under the sea
The waves have made her destiny
I stare at her
From a hill above the shore
Her pain cripples me such
That I can not move
How can I love this woman so
The small of her back
Invites me to hold her
Caress her tears into the sea
The salt water offers comfort
Massaging her feet
The sun glitters with hopeful endeavors
That neither of us feels at all
I am in love with this woman
Since a wee child long ago
Her pain is my pain
Yet my guilt I carry alone
Tomorrow
We both will stand hand in hand
To bury her husband
My brother
As I keep secret my love and desire
Only wishing her sadness to ebb
Into the sea that took hold of part of me
My brother I loved and honored
So on the hill above the shore
I stare at the woman I always adored
Oh brother forgive me my thoughts
As I wish to comfort your lovers broken heart
Copyright © arthur vaso | Year Posted 2015
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The night was fickle as November
A time when all sleep in slumber;
A moist mist hangs over the river,
And a still cold moon hangs as a sliver.
A soft liquid light captures the glow,
Of the first few flakes of new fallen snow;
She shines her light on turret towers,
And tucks in bed the sleeping flowers.
Her crescent rides through clouds that fly,
Shining on wolves as they howl and cry.
Etching the transient phantoms of night,
As wings of an owl brush the dust of flight;
The crystalline light shines on lovers,
Yet pale and still the moonlight hovers;
To tip with silver the restless waves,
And on tombstones marking silent graves.
Cast your moonbeams, cast them down,
As you float in your silver crown;
And the ribbon of dawn will wrap your head,
And put your shining eye to bed.
A repost
Copyright © elizabeth wesley | Year Posted 2012
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It's so dark outside, my eyes can't distinguish where sand meets water. Somehow, dusk has come and gone, plunging the evening into darkness.
But even as my eyes yield to this opaque absence of light, my other senses heighten. I can hear the crash of waves as they abuse the shoreline, sending foaming water up the beach in icy streams. I'm lulled by the sound of polished pebbles colliding like marbles as they recede with the waves. I can feel the sea's cool mist against my face, taste its salt on my lips. The scent of seaweed drifts on the breeze in gentle wafts - and then, slowly, the faintest whiff of smoke.
I glance over my shoulder, where a tiny dot of light penetrates the darkness. It's a beacon on this cool night, and I walk slowly toward it, digging my toes into the soft sand with each step.
dim moonlight
peeks through thinning clouds--
fire crackles
He's still there, stoking the fire, feeding the flames until the heat is tangible. The air wavers between us like a veil - a line I want to cross. He stirs up clouds of smoke, stirring feelings within me as I watch his busy hands. I wait patiently for him to notice my approach, and when he does, my breath catches.
rainbow flames
burst from seasoned maple--
blue eyes sparkle
I watch golden light flicker across his skin, softening the lines of his face. He abandons his task, moving around the fire until he stands before me, smiling as if he knows my heart is thundering in my chest.
He waits for a painstaking moment to pass. Then he kisses me with toasted marshmallow lips, pulling me down into his lap to watch the sparks rise like fireflies into the breathless night.
Copyright © Heather Ober | Year Posted 2013
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As this week closes into hours of pewter night
may the moonlight touch your lips while
I sleep in the arms of dreams unrefined.
Though I may not be with you
on misty evenings caved by my pride,
but think of me as I send you this
whispering sigh
of an embrace feathered by the sky...
I humble myself in your presence not,
but,
wait for me to disrobe this façade,
while you can, then…
Remember days like other days
when the roof of blank shades begin
to unwrap this cloistered body
hidden in a pile of sawdust
still reeling like a glistened dragonfly.
The light bulbs of time's avenues are streaked
with marquees of a name
where the lattice of my wishes
climb into a garden of your moistened eyes so green.
Enter the 100 in a ROW contest #2 Contest
Sponsor: PD Linda 7/6/2016
Copyright © nette onclaud | Year Posted 2015
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early dawn cracks the wispy air
open , wandering around viscous spaces
like fairy shadows caressing the edge
of sleep… and the days stretch longer,
taller than maple trees delicately rustling
the garnet of late Indian summer when
birds, orbits and urchins listen to
a single searching sun… when all else
is sprawled quiet, there comes this
certain fired imagination straying on
mouths of gentleness far beyond
nuptials of effervescent realms…
someone said morning becomes Electra,
that learning how to hear a pear or
grain unravel the very skin from
which it was born is allowing time to
unfurl its leaves far beyond unknowing a
heart’s need to be: the juice spills streams
waking new faces of time, bending the width
of life's rhyme through endless mystery...
a thousand times before and after, daybreak
and night twine... that in tints of all hues,
passing through fables of any season
is poetry's way of coming back to itself.
Justin Bordner's How Poetry Began Contest
by nette onclaud
Copyright © nette onclaud | Year Posted 2014
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My eyes,
you traced the beauty of nature.
The starry sky and inky ocean,
smile of winter in the heavenly garden,
dancing of waterfall on the lap of hill
and kissing of butterfly with lips of lily.
You painted the alluring nature
in the canvas of my memory.
It refreshes my soul
and revives my heart.
My eyes,
you are lovely, you are smart.
My eyes,
You traced my childhood
with your experienced hand.
Sacrifice of my mother
and hardship of my dad.
Depth of their love
and length of their sorrow,
thickness of their sympathy
and width of their care.
My eyes,
You are cute, you are fair.
My eyes,
you age out books stepping with time.
My career holds what I need.
You created hopes
and enhanced expectations.
You make my avenue successful and vivid.
My dreams slept on rose petal bed.
I know, a good book is equal to 100 friends,
but a good friend is a complete library.
My eyes,
you are my friend, you are my diary.
My eyes,
you traced a queen
in a marriage party.
Now, she is my darling
she is my sweety.
I never forget that wonderful night.
When you traced her sensation
and her jumping heart,
her tender lips
and her undressed beauty.
I was clean bold
with extreme delight.
My eyes,
you are spicy, you are naughty.
My eyes,
you are very clever.
You can speak more than tongue.
I know, you can't be wrong.
My anger is apple red,
my love is pearl white
and my pleasure is crystal bright.
When I am confused
you fly kingfisher flight.
My eyes,
you are my teacher, you are my guide.
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Copyright © Manmath Dalei | Year Posted 2016
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