Best Memorized Poems
"Mine all Mine!"
A thief I long to be
Your eyes original like the moon and sea
A lover in the world............
An Anthology, you walk and talk like the word "AMOR."
The words you send, I nicely tuck under my pillow
Every note every line you left behind
I memorized till they became all mine
Word-for-word,
Unauthorized I scrape the concrete calluses off the tongue
Pirating the perfect dramatic monolog look,
Basking through the passage around your Bio,
Lost in the musky scent -around the sonnet of your aura light
Epic enough, I reach inside to feel every idyllic rhyme
A strong iambic meter curse, conjuring up the perfect verse
In you I lift a copy paste from your lips,
No need to credit the sources in your bliss
The sweetest undamaged sensual memorandum book
A moment I stole and sealed without copyright proof
My dearest Poet,
When you move across the room
I see a thousand arrows that follow from behind,
Indulged when you speak and point out a verse per verse
I am a victim pampered by your words,
Sponging every line, adding them to my crib notes
Improved wordplay that infringed my everyday diary
A haiku so tangible, it sets the perfect images in my dream,
Hypnotize after I read your first love poem
A printed feeling--
Borrowed from the sun
pd
The chair is her home, her universe now
It is all that her many years will allow
Helena’s elegant beauty once shone
Now her mind wanders a world of its own
Age has changed her body but not her heart
Many great stories she’d always impart
To the wide-eyed grandchild she admired so
A girl who has loved her since long ago
Tales of black velvet gowns in which she’d dance
Soft moonlit beaches where she found romance
Economic hardships that came to pass
The rise and the fall of each social class
Her hands and face are now weathered with age
Accounts of the past still flow from this sage
And though some repeat again and again
I still listen now, just as I did then
I’ve memorized these tales, her gifts to me
And always I’ll remain her devotee
It matters not that my name escapes her
Love from her eyes she can always confer
Grandma brushes fingers across my face
And whispers, “Beautiful,” as we embrace
Though I miss years when she knew me so well
I know in the past her memories dwell
My love for her lingers, it always will
I take comfort knowing she loves me still
Too hard for me to say goodbye
For all apparent reasons why
Even though we all know it must be
Each heart will someday stop the beat
When the rhythm of life, and silence, finally meet
.
Yet I always seem so surprised
To find that death is part of life
Knowing that regret, will now haunt my every rhyme
The specter called "if only", will inhabit every line.
Wish I could arbitrate a deal to have gained a little time
Just one more talk with Sissy, to ease my guilty mind.
.
And the sun now sets on my regrets
I gamble on time and lose each bet
Thinking I'll move on and yet,
here I set . . .
Wishing for one more time
One more pun
One more smile
That will never come
.
If I could just recall the things you said that mattered to you most.
Memories un memorized
That now I'll never know
Years of conversation when I didn't pay attention
Times I should have said I love you
And somehow failed to mention
.
Then when you tried to tell me you felt your time was drawing near
Your selfish little brother pretended not to hear.
Even when you did your best, and tried to let me know
You'd made your peace and you were ready, and that for you . . .
It was simply time to go
Penny Hearts
I remember my penny hearts,
The ones you carved and painted red.
Each night I clutched them to my heart
While dreaming of you in my bed.
You were my first sweet Valentine.
I recall the deep love we shared;
How you pursued me with flowers,
And poetry to prove you cared.
Our romance soared into the clouds.
Your handsome face I memorized,
Each lash, each curve of your tan face
Etched in my mind, immortalized.
Constant daydreams would fill my days
Until at last we could unite
To capture stars within our eyes.
Our future seemed so very bright.
But alas, it was not to be.
So many things that would divide
Our sacred love that we both felt
Was doomed and buried deep inside.
With joy I'll always remember
How great it felt to be a part
Of a tender love so inclined
To value high, each penny heart.
1-24-18
*Dedicated to my first love who spent hours carving
those pennies into hearts to create a bracelet for me.
~First Place~
Romantic Valentine Contest - Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Emile Pinet
The Empty Academy Schoolhouse
It stands on a vast green lot,
No trees to shelter it from heavy, gray clouds
on the rolling foothill horizon.
Its thin coat of white paint peels,
revealing bare, dry-rotted wood.
The rickety porch boards,
once sturdy under children’s energetic steps,
look about to collapse at the slightest wind gust.
What’s it like inside?
Puddles of water from the last rain?
Rat’s nest in the woodstove?
Any desks or yellowed books, pencils,
love notes left behind?
A soiled ribbon slid off some girl’s braid?
A chalkboard with spelling words
or arithmetic problems still on it?
What songs, prayers, or memorized poems
still echo off faded, white-washed walls?
When was the first day of school?
When was the last?
What became of all the children,
who once ran around laughing
all over this green meadow?
What happened to ball players,
clover-chain weavers,
kids who picked lupines and fiddlenecks
for their teacher?
Did they leave Academy,
or do they lie in the cemetery on a nearby hill?
Published in Song of the San Joaquin, Spring 2021 Issue
This old school house is in the tiny pioneer town of Academy, just outside of Fresno, California, near the Sierra Nevada foothills. Some of the descendants of the pioneer families still remain in the area.
# oi KING Mandalay
Influence by the element of air,
You had me at love’s first stare.
Ruled by the element of your water,
Emotions no one can slaughter.
You call upon me like a charmer,
Awaken me out of my outer body armor.
A cobra memorized by your romance,
With a trance of my belly snake dance,
I love your built confidence,
Flirtatiously lost in a hypnotic trance.
Sending a kiss to your sensitive toy,
One day you will be my silly boy.
Your dots fill up my sensual desire,
My passion adds burn to your fire.
I will add water to your thirst.
Motivate me; energize me, until I burst.
While the moon changes your mood,
Your key turns on my womanly jewels of nude.
All my emotions are out of control,
You roll me with the sweet dice of your soul.
A deep erotic ritual to feed the need.
Wanting more arousing the power of my greed.
I will aimlessly satisfy your pleasure of lust,
A loving environment absorbing the devils exotic dust.
Symbolizing our emotions and likes on the same level,
Your Cancer sign comes all twisted like a Tasmania devil.
Influencing the justice with my right hand muffet,
My Libra sign set on two strings like a puppet.
I will shove the love in to everything we speak of,
Secure my bloom with the wings of a dove.
Spoil me with your pride, and charisma of your heart,
Fantasize the beauty of the nature of our art.
Longing your slight touch with a hint of aggressive,
Around you I bury myself in the world of imaginative.
Your sign and element your gift thrives on me.
I exchange the feelings only you see.
Observe me; connect me, until you got my balance,
Have me, love me, and give me all your romance.
All though your ego gets in the way of truth.
My sweet love;-) you are still the one I choose.
By: P.D.
Drumming along on steering wheel
And dashboard, to rhythm and beats
8-track drowning out giddy squeals,
Till butts plopped down in venue seats.
The buzzing crowd was everywhere
All walks of life surely present,
Deluge of Tie-Dye and long Hair,
Smoke wafting thick, the oddest scent.
When all light vanished, cheers ensued
As silhouettes shuffled on stage,
Anticipation…all eyes glued,
Mind numbing sound, coming of age!
They’d rocked our years, and now this night
Fans singing each memorized word,
Dancing, laughter—our teenage rite
Of passage, forever conferred.
Ten thousand flames, begged one more song
Two mega hits offered instead;
Then bows before worshiping throng,
Ended the show, farewells widespread.
I'm sitting here again,
Just waiting for a call
So I can put on my suit
And help someone get up from their fall.
It's not an easy job,
This whole Superwoman thing.
Flying through the sky,
Moving at lightening speed.
As I sit here waiting,
I'm contemplating
Whether or not I should do something,
Because this is getting boring.
The music is on its sixth rotation.
I had every word memorized after the second,
But I know as soon as I start something,
Of course, I'll hear the ring.
It never fails.
When it finally does ring,
I put the "S" on my chest.
I'm there in two seconds
Helping clean someone's mess.
Broken lives and tattered dreams,
This is my reality.
Broken hearts. So many tears
I've wiped from eyes for all these years.
The children are the hardest to behold.
How do I save them from shattered homes?
The "S" on my chest is only a sign.
I'm not God. I can't go back in time.
I can't change the lives given to them.
I'm just here to help their little hearts mend.
When my job is done,
I head back home,
Take the "S" off my chest,
And lay down to rest.
Until the next time I get a call
And put my "S" back on to save someone from their fall.
Dear Emily,
When you said, your “life closed twice before its close,”
I realized how badly your heart had been broken
You conveyed your feelings best with the written word
But did you leave too many words unspoken?
Sadly, this has been the case for me too
Relationships have suffered from this mistake
I release pain through my pen, emulating you
In my bed alone I try to tune out heartache
You called yourself “Nobody”; that goes for me as well
No children, no spouse, I seem to be invisible
As through crowds I drift, people look right through me
And errors I’ve made always seem unforgivable
When you composed, “I could not stop for death”
Did you peer at the future, see my health struggles
The reaper awaits; I’ll soon draw my last breath
Isolated like you, I don’t share my troubles
Although you achieved no fame in your lifetime
I read your words often and have memorized some
I grow through your poetry, they help me climb
With your spirit in my heart, easily my words come
*Written May 20, 2014
Is it simply just a wooden music box?
Charming the human soul, with its melodic undertone,
What a hypnotic melody it so plays, enticing the listener
With its delicate waltz' sweetly strumming, exposing it's
Mystical quality of the supernatural
By its spiritual essence attractant, I'm thus so memorized,
A ballerina dancing in step, with the spell cast upon me,
Thus do so I spin, on this stationary pedestal, unable to move
On my own volitional power of chose and free will,
I've be consumed utterly,
By the haunting tune, compelling me do its evil bidding.
The notes grow slower, unwinding until perfectly still,
But I'm not in a daydreams nightmare, I suddenly realize
This absurdity is reality, has become real.
I'm that tiny figure within a child's musical box,
Frozen in stances freeze, unable to cry
Out for help, for made of wax am I now.
Then the lid is gently shut upon me, and in the
Darkness a sadistic voice, heckles and mocks
Me, speaking in musical notes it sings a deadly
Lullaby, rest eternal my beauty for you belong
To me now.
I've become a play thing to be tormented,
Languishing within this jewelry box.
Caught in this land of giants, whom wind
These musical chimes, to join me as a
Prisoner's collection, of a thief called music.
Whom orchestrates this symphony of the demonic?
I dare not ask, for the voices anger would
Ravish what little is left of my humanity,
So I smile, and I dance at its pleasures
Whim, but within my soul a flickering
Ray does burn still, and it is called hope.
The music screams in terror's disbelief,
For the giants house has caught in flames,
And now he is the prisoner captured
Within a wooden tinder box.
I do so smile as I myself melt away,
Listening to the voice begging for help,
But no one comes to aid such evil as he.
But I am free at last, and except death
As a comforting friend's reprieve,
From the beast, is it just a simple?
Wooden music box.
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
FROZEN SOUVENIRS (( Collaboration * Nette OnClaud ))
by~ NETTE ONLAUD
frozen with pain she woke to find daybreak
slumped on her crumpled bed again, laid back, cast
aside from god knows what, an unbecoming haven.
at least, this time, this bed was hers and hers alone,
dimly broiled by smells of yesterday gone
stale, drooping limbs to vaguely unbecoming souvenirs.
no longer wrestling fires but lighting them,
hope drained from flesh that craved for expired lotion
crush-boned dreams mocked her unbecoming senses.
she backed off tears that asked how this all happened,
plunging into her heart’s junkyard searching for answers
from wounds buried in near burial of an unbecoming night…
by~ POET D.
Gently she is weaving in and out of her own bed near the sea ledge,
faith will be drawn in the sand near the watery shores
broken down heartsick sea walls of loneliness will triumph
yet another frozen sad mood, a shadow that feels like it will last forever,
only to rest upon her own will of over flown solitude lids
her eyes are still like fireflies throughout the ebony in the dark night sky
The lengthy halls carry echoes in which silence the memorized souvenirs
dusk announcing the end of another frozen day;
there she sits in an incubator waiting to hear her name in the wind
A deeper, more intense treasure she found in her own reflections
with an open mind she is in mourn in hopes that these feelings don't last long —
a few hours or maybe a day or two she will bliss it all away
A Collaboration with *NETTE ONCLAUD
~MY COLLABORATION CONTEST~
From the seed divided,
to exist in a sea,
sustaining,
nurturing, warming,
protecting,
what is delicate life.
Until thrust into the light
screaming in shock,
cold,
unprotected,
forced to inhale first
breath of life,
a new comforting sea,
enveloping,
setting free.
First vision
a beautiful sight,
blurred and unfocused,
stares into the memorized face
of dreams,
as gentle hands
impress, warm, caress,
soft textured folds.
Tears,
warm the face,
ears, attune
to soothing vibrations,
breathing deep,
inhaling wonderful fragrances,
familiar,
environment different,
yet the same,
from first division,
imprinted heartbeat,
the bond of life.
New day, the same circle conversation!
I slow speak my felt truths,
You stumble-spin lame accusations
And another valid topic will thrash itself mute.
We should just get a tape recorder.
Instead of arguing, we’ll just play that
And save emotional voices the bother.
You may not know what happens next,
But I know, I have memorized the steps:
Your chin will raise as your fists flex and
You’ll accuse me of thinking I’m perfect;
I’ll give up on your ability to reflect,
Execute stern hushing for my quiet effect
And we’ll live stiff with no sign of upset.
Stormy emotions from this current singe
May taint our bond with their imprint,
But our love violins aren’t in quit’s bin.
Our imperfect love remains heart-hinged.
We know when this new circle conversation ends,
I’ll be a silenced pinch, you’ll do a pouting binge,
Until need finds us easing for embrace again.
She held onto Saturday, with hands calloused and nails bitten
down
to the quick...her eyes saw sunlight and denied it's presence while she rocked, back and
forth, back and forth, to the ticking of a dishonest...
clock.
He told her, in words that cut the air as they fell from a razor sharp tongue, that she
still played the part of the victim, her little girl costumes uncomfortably small, and she
refused to hang herself up, for she had memorized the part and her voice knew
nothing
else.
Her lips parted, still stained with kisses and dripping with the acidic burn of
yesterday's stale tears, and she whispered the truth about choices as she unknowingly lied
to herself
again.
He handed her the script with a brush to her cheek, and she shook her head as life tumbled
viciously around her face, her peripheral vision capturing sight of years long past, and
she informed him that she couldn't read it, she told him she was
scared.
He took her hand and taught her how to smile with the slight tickle of fingers that danced
across a lifeline that posessed trails she was ignoring, he showed her how to not walk
backwards and
the appearance of Sunday if she didn't
trip.
She discovered the moment she was stuck and moved herself beyond the sunset, misty skies
so old that colors had faded and maybe yesterday wasn't as pretty as she thought, maybe
Sunday
didn't lie, and she came to an understanding as she straightened and tossed her sight to
the windows that glimmered with afternoon light...
that glistened with the reflection of twenty years past the weekend and the eyes of a
woman that had seen the formation of a smile
on
Monday.
Little One ...
Why do you weep?
Far too lovely a day for such sorrow ...
Too tender and sweet a cheek to stain with tears.
Your little trinket is not gone ... not really ...
Yes, it is lost beyond your reach, beyond the shimmer of the sun,
But you know it so well, have studied and memorized its shape ...
You have held it and played with it for so long,
Placed its color and form and delight deep within your mind,
And the joy it brought you is locked away in your heart's keep.
Perhaps it has left you now, as all things will, someday,
But don't you see? That is as it should be, Little One ...
For the loss of what we love, is the price we pay for the joy it brings us -
The reminder of its value and worth and affect on our lives.
Our sorrow is but the ache of love everlasting,
And each time you remember your precious bauble,
Each time you feel the tug of separation from it on your spirit,
You will be reminded of how dear it was to you, how priceless,
And you will think of its shape and shine ...
The smooth feel of it in your palm ...
You will smile from the joy its memory brings you, yet,
And it will NEVER be gone from you ... not really.
For like you, Little One,
It shines ... still.
~ 2nd Place ~ in the "Strand Pick D, Any Theme, Any Form" Poetry Contest, Brian Strand, Judge & Sponsor.