Best Lines Poems
The words that I write
flow from a deep place
The lines I express
mirror the lines on my face
Some lines are joyful
other lines took their toll
Yes the lines on my face
on the page reveal my soul
I love my laugh lines
they are my fast friends
I can be a bit cheeky
or sarcastic, it depends
My love lines are softer
around my eyes they reveal
To the page when transferred
they let you know how I feel
Some lines are more tragic
they are my battle scars
I share lines on pages
instead of drinking in bars
Joyful, sad or happy
each line expressed is true
My expression as a writer
I choose to gift to you
Yes, all the lines scribed
mirror the lines on my face
They help me to navigate
through my mind space
Lines that reveal wisdom
are not pretty that’s true
They should be heeded
please listen to them too
Then choose to reveal
some lines of your own
I’ll see the lines on your face
and know that I’m not alone!
Between the lines I walk a million miles
You hold me in your arms a hundred thousand times
Between the lines I wonder about your dark and serene nights
Are you all alone,Is there someone on the phone
Is there someone by your side
Rubbing off the colours of my little smile
Between the lines,you're on my mind
I will spend a lifetime searching for your eyes
Searching just for you,Oh darling if you'd knew
Would your lips make love to me the way they used to do
Will you come between the lines or leave me feeling blue
Between the lines there's a paradise,Between the lines I write
So many words unsaid,many moments gone,and wishes still unheard
Between the lines ,between the lines I write you'll once again arise
Blazing in my heart like a candlelight
You still live inside of me,you re-appear suddenly
You keep getting closer ,so unexpectedly
Between the lines,yes you are still there ,and I am still here
We were meant to be,never to be set free
Between the lines,,between the lines I write
This lyric poem is inspired by a Lionel Ritchie's song 'Hello'
how many of you
wonder how
you find yourself
where you are now
on some fast train
that's shooting by
the world outside
and don't know why
and wishing as
it takes the bend
before it reaches
journey's end
that it would stop
to let you breathe
and disembark
then watch it leave
so you could turn
and walk right back
to all those stations
on your track
and find those places
on your list
that life's timetable
somehow missed
then walk those junctions
where you spent
time deciding
ways you went
and pull a lever
switching lines
to one that points
to better times
where crossing gates
unlike back then
now open to
free dreams again
and help put right
those signal fails
you blamed when life
came off the rails?
each day we grow
we come to learn
time's just one way
with no return
but though we can't
change all before
we get to know
life's journey more
and had you changed
the way you are
your train may not
have got this far
for each dark tunnel
lived each day
led out to light
here anyway
and while those platforms
from your past
might well explain
your travelling fast
remember too
that grass unseen
grows right here now
and just as green
where taking time
might help you plan
a slower route
whereby you can
move to a seat
to change your view
and learn to love
yourself as you
appreciating
all you see
before Grand Central's
destiny
while knowing hope
faith luck and care
helped drive that train
to get you there.
Goth mood’s not right, not bright enough.
Fountain of sea, rapt in darkness.
Crepuscular ink blocks sunlight.
The cursive waves doth strain the wrist.
Fa-la-la rhymes, leaping and lowing.
Counting the black sheep - times not slowing.
Fountain of sea, deep in darkness.
Coarse keys, ivory black, musing.
The cursive waves doth strain the wrist.
Resist of playful sounds - thirsting.
Fa-la-la rhymes, leaping and lowing.
Counting the black sheep - times not slowing.
Coarse keys, ivory black, musing,
and refusing to budge - lines spurn.
Resist of playful sounds - thirsting.
The burn hisses and squeals; smudges.
Fa-la-la rhymes, leaping and lowing.
Counting the black sheep - times not slowing.
And refusing to budge, lines spurn.
Crepuscular ink blocks sunlight.
The burn hisses and squeals; smudges.
Goth mood’s not right, not bright enough.
The lines
Inside my head
Spinning
Swirling, curling
Round my brain
Somehow
Find the path
Come winding
Down my arm into my hand
And pop upon the
Paper, canvas,
Glass…
I let them flow
They flow so fast
Words, images,
Visions
Take me down roads
And paths to where I have
Never been;
Create worlds
Within worlds
These lines release my pain;
Oh, such peace
These lines contain.
To Kiss Each Morn, Color Outside The Lines
Once each day brought, only torturous pain
as dull axe, slow cutting against hard grain
Dawn cast shadows that this life did so curse
making me as a rock, in pauper's purse
Yet poetic soul swore to one day heal
to again dance well and truest love feel
To climb a tall mountain and take new flight
light hope's candles, bath in beautiful sight.
As a reborn soul, watch flowers soft blow
await midnight moon, see its wondrous glow
Be a true gift to family and friends
gaze above while making sincere amends
Hear music that sweetest dreams so oft play
humbly bow my head as I kneel to pray
Enjoy echoes of morn's first rooster crow
beg again a shot from Cupid's love bow.
Taste the wine of love and its first soft kiss
recall her smile and all of her I miss
Walk again forested path to our lake
repeat our youthful vows, never forsake
Romance that gave treasures and immense joy
hold firm to a love, life can not destroy
To kiss each morn, color outside the lines
stay on faithful path, pay heed to pure signs.
Robert J. Lindley, 8-13-2019
Rhyme, ( Love, Romance And Greater Wisdom Once Found )
By robertjlindley
© 2019 robertjlindley (All rights reserved)
Is it Love
a simple bowl of ice cream
sweating from the heat
cherries on the top
huddled 'round and looking sweet
two little wooden paddles
pretend that they are spoons
as we sit beneath the stars
in the savor of the moon
your lips are all I see
as they caress them with a passion
the cherries on your tongue
in a delightful playful fashion
with our eyes intent and focused
in a stare of solemn trust
Is this ice cream truly love
or is it merely cherry lust
She is in her bed,
lights filtering through crown glass,
shadows and curved lines
playing with her nudity,
an old erotic sculpture.
Shadows and curved lines-
they know how to play with her,
where to land a kiss
where to give a paint-brush touch
how to caress silky curves.
Each line tells her tale
each curve longs for more caress,
shadows crowned by lines
perfect Michelangelo,
a sculpture of light and shade.
© kash poet
============================
You may not know this,
But sometimes, I sneak
away from my cynicism,
and see through my vehement
in self loathing, to uncover
the tender optimism of
my former self, reminiscing
of elated memories, that I
over time, forgot belonged to me,
As I see us, my mind captures the
image, in hopes of warming my
essence, but the thought of
holding this picture, is inferior
to the risk of learning to smile again,
To smile and relish in a moment
that cannot be willed into reality,
despite the sincerity of a heart's desire,
Secretly, the vision of your beauty
belonging to me, releases melted
fragments of my heart through my
eyes, I shamefully wipe away such
signs of sorrow, and tell myself you
were "just a girl" but all of me
knows better, for the truth of your
importance is a factor unimaginable,
I cannot tell you that you were the
best of me, created out of prayer,
and wished into reality, or that my
eyes still remain closed until yours
sees sunlight, or that it was your
love alone, which gave me hope,
taught me faith, and filled my being
with the invincibility of a deity,
Such delicate confessions should
remain silent to your ears, and ears
of the world, for within them lies
the truth of a sorrow unseen by humanity,
and the power to allow this elation to
again grant me immortality, an everlasting
life in which I could only agonize over
a paradise unreachable, and the fruitless
fantasy of a raisin in the sun,
Between The Lines
Tribute to FJ Thomas
@ poetrysoup.com
No doubt you'll read the words she writes
of love in lovers eyes.
Seashells on a beach somewhere
beneath the clear blue skies.
Holding hands and taking walks
in the springtime in a park.
Or whispers being whispered
by lovers after dark.
But when it comes to those she loves
and those that stand beside her.
Unless you read between the lines
it's all kept safe inside her.
Like dreams some dream long after dark
while laying fast asleep.
And promises of secrets known
she promised she would keep.
There's nothing there to hold her back
there's nothing she must hide.
It's just it's much too personal
to talk of tears she's cried.
There were times in love before
when certain words were spoken.
What she got for all she gave
was getting her heart broken.
So for now she's come to think
of the heart that's in her chest.
Certain things are better off with
those that she knows best.
All in all just like a star
you can see how her love shines.
But to see beyond the light
you must read between the lines.
Edwin C Hofert
Picture provided by: http://s1264.photobucket.com/user/Rita7070/
assorted like the washing on its lines
the words appeared along my way
in bunches of neat paragraphs
they briskly flapped into my mind
still dripping with those concepts they
must have been soaked in for a while
I gladly felt them touching me
and liked their affluent display
of shapes and textures manifold
enjoyed the pleasant freshness
of the smell they carried off all
seasons’ winds spiced with ideas
time passing by would watch me
stealthily try on this one or that so
in their context rinsed with thought
to cool the feverish qualms of my
keen heart and growingly my soul
seems to be draped in purified attire
Marriage is a great institution, but I'm not ready for an institution.
A dame that knows the ropes isn't likely to get tied up.
Every woman knows, an ounce of performance is worth pounds of promises.
When I'm good, I'm very good. But when I'm bad I'm better.
Every man I meet wants to protect me. I can't figure out what from.
Save a boyfriend for a rainy day - and another, in case it doesn't rain.
Ten men waiting for me at the door? Send one of them home, I'm tired.
When they say boldly go where no man's gone before, they don't mean the kitchen.
Honey when I said I wanted something to hang my hat on I didn't mean THAT!
Any port in a storm is a good way to divorce court dearie!
Titillating is not an excuse for going to girlie bars.
Anyone got a buck I could sure use one?
Grab a piece of **** will you, it may be the last thing you ever grab.
**** retentive? You don't say!
Lip service now there's a concept.....
*Listen for the drum roll!
I place petals upon each path you tread,
so those chocolate brown eyes feel no pain.
I promise to kiss away each tear you shed,
for your smile is my sunshine in cold rain.
Silent One
13 February 2018
Example for Romantic charm in 4 lines contest
While prose is read
and poetry spoken
silence is silence until it is broken......
Outside the lines
What is it about poetry
that so consumes you
Brings you to your knees,
cowering in a corner
of your own delusions
Reading in between the lines,
finding what is not really there
Dropping hints of absurd defiance,
collecting spoonful after spoonful
of puzzled meanings and chaliced dreams
Flowing symbolisms, metaphoric landscapes -
Where bushes are bluebirds
and sidewalks - bridges of no return
Why do you reach
into your pocket, searching for love
on plain white paper folded into a square,
when all along it faces you -
not in ink, but in smiles
expressing exactly what is felt
No boundaries or disguised emotions
penned in rhythmic sequence,
only true love, standing on this sidewalk -
which is only a sidewalk
What is it about poetry
that so consumes you,
when love is waiting – just outside the lines