Best Loftiness Poems


Premium Member Triumphant While Staying Low

"A man's pride shall bring him low: but honour shall uphold the humble in spirit." Proverbs 29:23 of the King James Bible

Aspiring for achievement glow
That vanquishes painful defeat’s shadow
Arrogance stands at loftiness gate for a show
While selfishness glitters midst jewel of hypocrite’s woe…
Oh, proud human nature, needs heaven blow
To mutter need for divine blessing flow
And be triumphant, staying low.
 
March 21, 2025
2nd place, "Write Seven Beautiful Lines With A Twist" Poetry Writing Contest	Sponsored by Constance La France; judged on 3/23/2025
Form: Monorhyme

Premium Member Sandpiper

I watch them on the beach -
shorebirds they are called
running here and there.
Residents of land more than the air,
they'd rather poke their beaks into the sand
probing for morsels of tasty crustaceans.
Pecking, always pecking,
scrambling to and fro,
they're focused, ever focused
on the job at hand.

Not especially strong, graceful, colorful, or pretty,
they are, however, speedy.
They scuttle easily through low tides,
rushing for the shore on skinny legs
when waves come crashing.
These industrious little creatures
seem unconcerned with the loftiness of clouds.
Yet at times, they will gather as one body in the sky,
performing an amazing aerial show.

Run, sandpiper, run. Soon your eggs will hatch.
In your being grounded
you reap rewards.

Written by Andrea Dietrich on 9/17/13
for nette onclaud's BUILD YOUR OWN SAND!Poetry Contest

Sun Kissed and Star Dusted Air Castles

She is whimsical midst-escaping
 blackness & beige stagnation,
reverberant betwixt musicality &
 fictitious paisley fabrications,
recognizes the actuality of her
 enigmatic spirit's frivolity,
well-defined by her quirky 
quintessence serving her far beyond
periods of reflective flourishes, 
has never been a slave to social
expectations nor gravitas of
 worldly-minded undertakings,
materialism is not her cuppa tang
 nor an applicable proposition,
heartfelt inclination is e'er creation
 and the freedoms it relishes,
you may catch glimpses midway
 seascapes & ocean's roar or
summits of splendiferous
 mountain's sumptuous loftiness,
swaggers 'bout configurations
 and milky way's artsy effulgence,
plays amidst wistful forests with
 nymphets and poisonous toadstools
sashays 'round wildflower meadows
 blanketed yonder moon blushes,
sun-kissed & star dusted she's
 collectively nightfall 'pon daylight,
envisages building soaring air castles
 amidst macrocosms high-rise skies'
 timelessness whence humankind 
shall humbly recognize enlightened
 ceremony of incommensurate 
resoluteness & obsessive commitment
 furthermost nature's conceptualizations


Building Castles in the Sky Contest -Steven Henderson
© Paloma P   Create an image from this poem.
Form: Imagism


Premium Member Il Dolce Far Niente

Il doce far niente - - -
the sweetness of doing nothing

That's my conviction
as I'm living

life as a Poet.
It feels as if

I'm doing something constructive
as I work on poems

Time passes so swiftly
It's like I'm

encompassed in a dream
while I go about

my daily ritual.
It's a sensation

of serenity, contentedness
that goes beyond

mere expression with words
It's casual and concrete

all in swift actions
that lift me to a higher loftiness.

Rose-Red Delusional Grandeur

poetically fractured retractions
   gnashing night prayers, 
scribbling braille,
     written sideways
 dipped in holy water's resolution,
compromising statements
     of disbelief's proclamation
spinning music the color
     of nakedly sick psycho, yet
burnished souls keep on ticking
   quarter past total trade-offs
   in a spoonful of smoky reflections
         sans acid's sugar trip,
anointed of rose-reddish
        bloody false pretenses
dancing off center phases
       in disillusioned
   pirouettes of pseudo redemption,
whirling out of control on
         staged tapestry's loftiness
   surrendered ballet slippers 
        in blistered half promises,
as twisted metaphors sprightly
       tuned out spun anomalies
below birds on a rusty wire tweeting
     admissions' cobalt blue hazed execution,
rendered inky alterations' inquisitions 
        'pon pedaled pink fluff profundity,
exhaling paroxysms' jazzily engaged poesy
    in vehemently enraged deliverance,
naught one is ever as they seem
  through pigmented film 'neath
    figment's imagined looking glass
         of ingratiated delusional grandeur
© Paloma P   Create an image from this poem.
Form: Burlesque

Rearview Mirror

Rear view mirror

Objects, objectively put, are  closer  
than they  appear. But it doesn’t say it all. 
With the fair signs that spewed  forth once turning to
a slew of  pre-twitter  pseudo- tweets since.

 I once put it down In form Octa-Tri :
 In rhyme scheme:  aab, bb, ccc .

(“  At the wheel 
At night. Uneasy feel. 
Narrow misses, though, in nobody’s midst.

Rows of reflectors mark lanes glaring through the mist, 
Comforting  coolness and sultry night coexist .

Cell service zones change, ding-dongs the phone
Heart fluttering alone
Night unknown”.)

A row of  earthy  images it failed 
rather than showed ,images  with  eerie  
 librations and weary nutations  .Which 
was not  Physics,  but physiognomy of  life.

Like when bashed  by  kiddy badasses  and  
basic arithmetic, or when up higher ,
combative but  math a behemoth 
all the same, and  guided perfunctorily
 often, and rarely with the right intent.

In  the  peccadilloes- round,  the  Tintern
 Abbey Sycamore also loomed dour sans 
creativity , but the three trees on 
the low sky  made sense , and then on to  
T.ds. equations and tedious times 
 soured by  sleep and steep sloth.

Ingenious in fair measure , now turning 
ingenuous on the proving grounds , after, 
 in the space of a couple of cusps of 
light and sound   mom was  no more  and we  
whimpered  and  simpered under a dad who cared 
 but did not seem to,  in  his straight-faced  mode

Then  came  falsely  flashing ,  faintly  fuming ,
 slapdash  years of machines and mega hertz,
 eggs and vegs, sex and senescence to remain 
for ever weighed down by the wayside whey.

Bringing-up-kids-banality apart
 ( fed mainly on meds for just cough that recurred);  
 preferring  palm-frond’s loftiness  cum  
deprivation to  urban  up-for-grabs  
benefaction;  and the mess of docs, deaths  
and a mossy crock of living pain since.

And all the dicey way , never  patted 
but  p(f)anned; tweaked , untweaked ; harmed, ex-harmed; 
 banked on , debunked ;  short-changed, sort-of-changed ; 
lumbering on , alive and a-slumbering  
and if anything  wondering if it’s
 not  all  the mirror’s prim fault 
which never once showed my face.


Loftiness and Lowliness

From loftiness one becomes lowly
.   and from lowliness one becomes lofty.

Consider the highest of the peaks; 
.   it has nothing but rocks and snow only.
Consider the lowest of the plains; 
.    it is filled with every kind of life.

Consider the biggest of the behemoths; 
.   the thoughts of its mind are all about
.    food alone.
Consider the the smallest of the mammals; 
.    it can be shrewder than any creature.

Consider the tallest of the trees; 
.   it is the first thing that a lightning
.   strikes.
Consider the shortest of the shrubs; 
.    no fiercest northern wind can uproot it.

Consider the heaviest of the clouds; 
.   it is the soonest water to fall.
Consider the slightest of the vapors; 
.    it shall continue its rise.

Consider the mature palm branch; 
.   it is brought down by its heaviness.
Consider the new and fresh leaf; 
.    its lightness lifts it up.

Consider the size of the elephant; 
.   by it, this animal would be the first
.   a hunter notices.
Consider the smallness of the ant; 
.    with it, only a few is interested
.    with it as a food.

Consider the fruits on the trees; 
.   most of them are useless when they fall.
Consider the crops on the ground; 
.    they are more useful where they are.

Still, consider the large watermelon; 
.   its stem cannot lift it up.
Then, consider the plum on its tree; 
.    its weight raises it high.

Consider the mass of the rock; 
.   it falls straightly to the ground.
Consider the lightness of the feather; 
.    it settles down gently.

And consider the top of earth; 
.   it is made up by mud and dirt.
Consider the bottom of the ground; 
.    gold and precious stones are found in it.

For the Great I AM has more grace
.  for the humble than the proud; 
. pay attention, you lofty ones, 
.    for there is wisdom in meekness!

A Bird In Flight

Sitting there late last night! 
I took everything in with my deepest breath about me.
I could quiver feeling the warmth sinking slowly in, 
I was covered over distances which I could now see.
I had left myself. 
I was gone again.
I was above and beyond the clouds,  
Soaring deeply with every one of my though,
Higher and higher I rose, 
Reaching loftiness’ I have never once felt. 
I was a bird in flight! 
Stunning with privilege I had brought.
Feeling myself from deep within!
Standing there that night, 
The radiance beamed all around me so I took this in.
And lo and behold, there I went again.
I could feel myself while locked deep with my thoughts.
I was absorbed inside by everything surrounding me.
I felt the depth that my eyes could never ever once see.
Loosing all truth of myself, every sensation my soul had caught.
Further and further I rose, reaching capacities I had never felt.
I’m a feather in the air, 
Gathering sensations inside of myself.
I lay there that night, mind, body, and soul with me.
I was calm with the breeze, 
Inside of myself,
Feeling myself!
And once again I was a bird in flight soaring so high and much too free.
I was locked sound with my deepest thoughts.
More and more I rose and impact for impact I felt.
Feathers of a bird in flight and one of me I have surely got.
Ever since that night, many, many things have come to me.
One by one, gathered by the sensations carried all over me.
Touching inside of myself, again, again, and again!
Higher and higher I climb to reach the very tipsy top.
Gathering it all, I am more of me when more of me can be felt.
I am the breeze in the air touching the many feathers these birds have brought.
Many feathers just from sitting here, but each the soar of the wind has surely caught.
I’m a bird in flight gathering all that is real or not and all that is captured in of my-self.
I am surely the feather that fell from the very top, 
Because I am now what then I surely was not!
I am simply that feather in the air falling loose and free inside of myself.

®Registered: 1997 Ann Rich
© Ann Rich  Create an image from this poem.

There's a Message In the Music

"Before the pianist sit's on her stool", his or her professionalism is admire by the capture
of the audience appreciation as she tickle's the ivory and shows the "Golden Rule".
The golden rule dictate's a Message of being overwhelm by that certian sound that makes 
us dance and make's us enjoy the quanity of feeling's, if the music is about romance. But
when the music brings a tapping of the feet's or a praising dance unto happiness or a slow
dance into someone arm of softness, "there's a message in the music", and its the sound 
of loftiness. Now she play's her piano so expressily the facial expression is a message of
within itself. The message being, that the seriousness of detail that makes one understand 
the reason to clap my hand. "Do you understand".
Do you and the countless number of people, all with different varitie's of musicical taste,
ever feel a oracle of joy and austustic appreciation to your own detail to clearily get the
message. Life and sin - has a message all of its own. One can bring death into a pit of misery
while the other (Life) reveals a message of Music of omnipency unto a history of musical in-
finity;

Deem the Best

Had I the choice to choose the greatest poets, to depict their visages by drawing them at their loftiness,
and volitionally strive to equal or excel, Poe for his lamenting woes or Browning’s dramatic monologues, or Whitman’s
ever refined Leaves of Grass, to wit the best, these and others I’d gladly trade for just the scent of you upon my verse, even for a moment.

World of Misery

When the time no sooner flies;
when grief and sadness flushing the cries.
Fill the emptiness where the sorrow lies;
bringing up painful surmise.

Oh! what a restless world.
Where the values in pennies are sold;
undress us with no mercy in the cold.
Lies and and false claims are daringly told;
prevailed in pride and loftiness mould.

Oh! what a world so spoiled.
Where valuables so clearly soiled.
Where the calmness in fire is boiled.
Where the freedom forcefully coiled.

This is the world of sadness;
This is the world of madness;
This is the world of baldness.

What can I say; This is the world of misery.

The Magical Rainbow

The magical rainbow appears in the blue sky after the rains,
It is a vista of hope in the dark and pains.
The magical rainbow comprises of seven colours i.e. vibgyor.
Each is significant in its own manner.
Violet signifies royalty(bravery and loftiness).
Indigo underlines authenticity.
Blue highlights peace 
Green the colour of vegetation and prosperity.
Yellow signifies brightness
Orange the colour of asceticism.
Red remarks bravery and temper.
Night follows the day,
making all cheerful and gay.
Darkness follows the light.
Encouraging all, to the evils fight. 
Happiness follows the sorrows
Which none can lend or borrow.
Sometimes sun and sometimes rain
Buffeted all alone in the mighty ocean of
grievances and pain
When all the hopes dash the ground and arises
a feeling of low.
After the rains up above the sky shines the magical rainbow.
It is a lantern in the dark.
Its appearance is as sweet as the words of a lark.
Its colours are each of a different meaning
It is in disguise to us a blessing.
© Gargi Saha  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Rhyme

The Loftiness of Man

So once again, as I often do,
I sit and ponder on the loftiness of Man.
Great cities he has built -
Great are the rising condos -
Middle-finger pointing
Structures scraping the serene sky.
Great bridges spanning greater expanses
 Deep tunnels through rock
And submarine mass.
Great thundering trains
Or even silently speeding bullet ones.
Great is the power
 Of the drills in the earth
Bringing up the essence
To do even greater things!

Lofty, indeed, is Man
Who cares not a whit
For the rape of the land.
So Great is He that
Great plans to relocate ex-Terra are afoot.

But when the golden-egg laying goose
Is raped unto death,
Where lies the Greatness?
How lofty is Man?

Abridged Life

All in this world are natural,
We the men making differences.

All we love the roses,
Is it only for her glamour ?

Someone love the loftiness,
Is it only for height ?

Someone love the sea,
Is it only for a dive ?

We love opposite sex,
Is it only a seasonable agreement ?

The thorn of roses injure us,
Yet we love her,
Because of her life long celibacy,
Her youth, her grace.

Attraction on height is nothing
But the vastness which is
Much important in a human being
To make himself broad-hearted.

The magnanimous sea attract us
Not only for a dive in her saltish water
But she teaches us to accept all
In this vast world are good or, bad.

The opposite sex is nothing
But we try to find-out our lost love,
The resort, the peace, the serene
In our abridged, very short life.
__________________________

Thank you for reading.

Chitta

Vanity of Skin

Beauty's power is what you seek,
Everlasting things you want,
Always skin perfection on the cheek
Under seductive eyes that taunt.
Towards shapes and shades and light
In small glitter boxes stays your full delight.
Finesse, longevity and everything godlike;
Unless you want time to succeed,
Loftiness is just the friend you need.
Form: Acrostic

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