Best Looks Poems
Burnt Into Ash My Sad Soul Looks Far Back
In youth, my spirit was a climbing vine
dressed in green leaves upon white oak tree
Seeking light, I was walking a true line
in shade of path that was truly free
Storms weathered sheltering branches
bringing sun's hot beams upon my head
I sought more, took gravest of chances
of true love's blessing and being well fed
Once cast upon dirt and parched ground
my legs found needed strength to run
Racing winds sent that deceiving sound
soon, I forgot the heat of blazing sun
Burnt into ash my sad soul looks far back
Long ago, in tree's top, I was once on track
Robert J. Lindley, 7-14-1999
I see an aging Panagiota with the soul of a youth.
Untouched by hatred~yet despised for, as she's always telling the truth.
Utterly, unwilling to be a crowd pleaser.
She has grown to know the hollow emptiness of being a groupie-gratifier.
A big Heart to her, counts more than the brilliance in any word play in the head.
She loves poetry of Shakespeare that throngs here consider quite dead.
She knows the arrogant here who knock at her heart's door, oh my so loud?
And evaporate quickly,as insignificant raindrops after a storm followed by a golden-bright cloud!
She knows the hopelessness of playing life's little victim.
With the onset of great pain, hardship and lonelines,she blossoms, right as rain.
Threatened by males here to "change her poetry style or else,"
These macho nobodies have lit her soul afire, nothing more ignorant delights to ainspires her.
She knows quite well the legion of names of the BEST who ignore her.
She really doesn't care, she realizes she is, indeed, first and forever,God's poetic daughter.
You won't find thousands of one-line poems from her.
She wants her poetry to make your velvety-heart positively beat loudly and almost purr.
This is the self in the mirror, I have found at Poetry Soup.
No big arm of trophies nor winner am I, just an ordinary woman, with her quill in glory, acknowledging God in the sky.
To God be the Glory. Thank you, close friends and ones yet to come....
All my love~
Panagiota Romios
February 5, 2020
7:00am PST
POTD. February 7, 2020
"If anyone asks you
how the perfect satisfaction
of all our sexual wanting
will look, lift your face
and say,
Like this."
- Rumi
***
I lift my face to you, my anyone
my only one, my love,
And see your question
unspoken but screamed
all over you
This is what love looks like
What it looks like with
only that one person
I see you read you
every line of you
words without any
meaning full of meaning
I read you I see your face
I taste the sun and the moon
and all the stars in all the
fireworks.
Nothing is simple,
but we carve it clean—
label it, box it,
turn a question into a rule,
a rule into a law,
a law into a weapon,
and call the wreckage order.
We crave control,
but sharpen our knives in chaos.
We demand honesty,
but crucify the truth.
We worship free thought,
but silence it before it speaks.
We want change,
but only if it looks
like what we already know.
A zebra is the only thing
that looks good in black and white.
Everything else—
everything real—
drowns in the blur between.
We say we hate the system,
but gut each other
before we ever fight it.
We demand peace,
but kneel to the loudest fist.
We claim we want the truth,
but only if it sings us to sleep.
The universe isn’t laughing.
It’s watching the clock.
Time is running out.
My picture of a woman
is simple and deep
of one not self absorbed
but sometimes would weep
Her hair as a woman's
and manners as such
her conversation simple
and selflessness much
My picture of a woman
that sometimes exist
sometimes I see her walking
and add her to my list
she sometimes see's me watching
though I try not to stare
She ask, "Is there someone else I'm watching?"
"Or is there someone else there?"
I'd love to say I love her
and hold her in my arms
give her every part of me
name her in my songs
My picture of a woman
as shy as i am
in my mind I see her dreaming
as I do as I am
I wish that i could ask her
can you trust me as I am?
As knowledge does not
as fateful memories could not
My picture of a woman
who love has not forgot
lest not forsaken
the prize of my plot
The night falls down around me in this poet's reverie.
Words stick to my moon-parched throat until I set them free.
Images of life and love are painted on my heart.
Stars outside my window have their knowledge to impart.
The world I travel forth in has experience to give.
My eyes have seen the glory of this place I choose to live.
And now the daylight beckons from the unforgiving skies.
My mind is full and restless as my pen to paper flies.
Night has flown away but still I'm left with thoughts profound.
This song of life I've written here is making such a sound.
Dawn has broken and I thank God for every given word.
I'm grateful for this chance I have to reach out and be heard.
Your punishing look;
With such venom in your eyes,
Casts dispersions upon my character;
As if my entirety you despise.
Though my error was one of innocence,
Under a rock I wish to crawl.
Your punishing look;
Can no pleasantries you recall?
Your questioning look;
Causes me too, to doubt myself;
Perhaps indeed my motives were flawed;
Maybe I need some psychological help.
Why do I do the things I do?
I hate disappointing you so.
Your questioning look;
Just what is it you want to know?
Your forgiving look;
Softens the hurt I feel inside,
I have prayed for your forgiveness;
I didn’t mean to make you cry.
I know I’ve learned a lesson
That I’ll remember through the years.
Your forgiving look;
Does it help keep back the tears?
Your understanding look;
No one else knows me like you do;
You know that I’m not perfect,
But mistakes don’t mean I don’t love you.
My heart is in the right place,
It’s just my head that's out of whack.
Your understanding look;
Can you please not take it back?
Your loving look;
Returns to your eyes eventually;
I consider myself a lucky man
Every time they stare at me.
I will do my best to ensure
I give no more reasons for the other stares.
Your loving look;
Can I take it with me everywhere?
Now there once was a man called Obama
who did more grievous harm than Osama.
At Hillary’s coax
they conspired a hoax
so coming your way is some bad karma!
Written: August 2025
There I gazed beside the door awaiting you.
Never spoke to you, but it feels like I've known you forever.
That smile.
That smile on the corner of your mouth, the moment our eyes meet.
No words can ever describe what we had.
There are no words in the first place.
A silent conversation our eyes have.
A silent conversation we have everyday.
We're beyond words.
I found the meaning of your voiceless words looking at your eyes.
I found the real you through your eyes.
That slight relief when I see you show up.
I was a puzzle no one could solve.
Your eyes solved my twisted self.
In the dead of night
Some years ago
A metamorphose transpired
Under full moon glow
A lady in black
In graveyard mist
Danced with the crows
In evolutionary twist
Her presence was surrounded
By luminous flows
Larva's were being shed
In dark butterfly grow
Her black dress becomes discarded
Shape-shifting in the dead of night
Red Admirals flutter
In demonic delight
They become butterfly winged elves
Patiently awaiting
To our moon our orb
Anticipating in taking
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/fantasy.php
The butterfly so weightless looks at me for
answers, questions are mine and abundant, clearly she has stolen
my heart. Center stage stands my attention, her figure like a
sapphire in shades of kindness, her visions are dust on her wings.
Glistening to glimmers as they float away, a moment's duller they
become leaving wings a slight hallow fading, drifting behind in a
place it had once been. Until finally, remaining wings contain
nothing only gray endings, but more beautiful is the world for it's
colorful fire remains.
Don't sweat your looks... Forget the mirror
~ What's outside reflects what's inside
For all those who’ve been captured by my camera lens,
I wish we could do it all over again.
But time waits for no one despite what we see,
In images made of you and me.
In the snap of a shutter or the blink of an eye
A memory is frozen like tinsel in time.
Shiny and shimmering like diamonds and pearls
Each one a treasure, immeasurable world.
Yet never to last beyond dawn’s early light
As the picture of now is an illusory sight.
To have and to hold like water in hand
Hasten photographers to do what we can.
To coax, cajole, position and prompt
People and places to do what we want
To fill up our cameras with just the right touch –
Never too little, never too much.
With just the right color, right texture, right mood –
A slim slice of life that says what, where and who.
In a gathering of pixels of zeros and ones,
Technological marvel mixed with light from the sun.
And oh what a ride I’ve had by your side
Be you stranger, family or friend,
Throughout the years of trying to make clear
What’s moving like clouds in the wind…
People, places, flowers and trees,
Sun rising and falling on rivers and seas.
Small creatures and features of wood, sand and rain,
Sky scrapers and ruins of ancient remains.
The famous and infamous, lost and found;
The good, bad, beautiful and perennially profound.
Healthy, wealthy, humble and weak;
Down and out with nothing to eat.
But your smile most of all is my favorite frame;
Vignette of your memory, your life and good name.
Etched now in the hues of bold colors and grays
With gratitude I have you to reflect upon today.
Babe, your beautiful hair,
Shines so lovely in the sunlit air,
Your standing there,
Makes me stand and stare,
'cause you look so fine'
Each and everytime,
You're one of a kind, in every mans mind,
'cause babe you look so fine,
Yea babe, you look so fine,
You and those angel eyes,
There's no surprize, all the other guys,
Say you look so fine,
Babe your standing there,
Looks so lovely in the moonlit air,
Your skin so fair,
Makes me stand and stare,
'cause you look so fine,
And everytime,
You blow my mind, I'm not lyin',
'cause babe you look so fine,
Yea, you look so fine,
You and those angel eyes,
There's no surprize, all the other guys,
Say you look so fine,
Under stars of night, or daylight,
You look so fine, yea, babe you look so fine.
Pooh, plush with his turned-up snout,
pleased; peeked out the wide window.
He prompt a mouth sigh, breathed out,
placid with life, holding his pillow.
Seized by magic of nature
and buzzing noise, means there's bees.
Out the door happy creature,
beehives beneath limbs and shade of trees.
Pooh and Cricket walk, a trail
laced in rainbow wildflowers.
A sniff they took, and a snail
slowly crawl out look for spring showers.
Fluttering butterfly lands
on Pooh's nose, twas so funny.
A bouquet and snail in hands,
towards home with jugs full of honey.
2/6/2022
Nursery Rhyme