Best Mien Poems
Your sensuous eyes render me a fool.
How clumsy I become within your mien.
I stutter, stumble trying to keep cool
While all the time envisioning a scene
Of you and I together palm in palm
As sun departs behind the hillside's face,
And in the blush of twilight I feel calm
Enough to kiss your lips with lover's grace.
My heart would swell if only this were so,
If even in my dreams it would come true,
That you might sense within my smile aglow
The awesome humble love I have for you.
One tiny glance of regard you impart
Would be enough to satisfy my heart.
11-16-19
I lounge lazily on my deck chair
Up high in the spacious loggia
Loafing the time away, patient, waiting.....
The ocean ebbs into the small bay
As the sun sets far away over the horizon.
From below electric lights flash on
One by one and guitars are strummed.
The enticing aroma of paella wafts up
But I sit on, unmoved, immobile, waiting.
In the summer heat, I wait,
For the night to bring her near,
With a dance so sweet, she'll appear,
The summer heat is scarcely relieved
By the faint ocean breeze
The murmur of people reaches me.
She has arrived and the guitars sing.
So does my heart as I behold my wife.
Slowly she pirouettes on her dainty toes,
Her skirt resembling a veronica,
Like a cape that baits the bull
In a Spanish bloody arena.
But I sit on, unmoved, immobile, waiting.
I cannot see her red, red lips
That taste like lavender in height of summer,
I can just barely make out her silhouette,
Her sexual curves, her lithe footing,
Her inviting mien, her head held high,
a proud senora dancing just for love.
In the summer heat, I wait,
For the night to bring her near,
With a dance so sweet, she'll appear,
Soon the dance will end and I...
Why I just wait till she'll come to me,
In the dark cover of the night.
With a tequila and a night of love.
There was a time when I was young
To share an era that begun
From music to the fashion trend
TV shows and history
Fads and other mysteries
I saw them all as time moved on
From classic pop to rock and roll
Bill Haley and the Elvis craze
And four years in my Air Force phase
But Jitterbug still hung around
The big bands had that unique sound
Time moved on to start the clock
European cinema
Fellini, Bergman made the mien
And Japan added to the pie
To film The Seven Samurai
Brando, Newman and James Dean
newly captured on the screen
Television's Golden Age
All the programs set the stage
For Gunsmoke and the Twilight Zone
I love Lucy, I married Joan
TV tubes were changed a lot
Wrestling shows were really hot
Mantle, Mays and Robinson
Took baseball to another rung
The coonskin cap and hula hoop
Duck tail hair and snapper soup
I wore one with a thick pomade
And ate the soup that Momma made
My fashion sense left much to judge
As if I had good taste for fudge
Pegged pants with a six inch rise
Ladys skirts were different then
Lengths that came down to their shins
Three inch higher was a sin
Still dirty minds existed then
In Belgium back in 58
I saw an exhibit on that date
The Sputnik with a cute stray dog
was launched so high up in the air
Before the U.S. could get there
Then the race to conquer space
McCarthy hearings, lives destroyed
The Cold War was our only plight
The Commies kept their nukes in check
And Castro entered on the scene
There were no hot wars left to fight
Days still continued as well as night
I share a new millennium
But today the future's not so bright
No more long hand, the laptop's here
Facebook and Twitter have conquered our sphere
The death knell has tolled for how life was then
Rekindle your past and live again
Ralph Sergi February 19, 2015
Decades by Kelly Deschler
I’ve read a lot about the stars—
sought precious knowledge of deep space.
Wondered when we’ll go to Mars—
pondered if we’ll leave this place.
Some problems here on earth, it seems;
though much here that I treasure.
But is it still a field of dreams,
or merely life in search of pleasure?
Nothing here we really own.
In error the thought we can possess.
We’ve mastered the installment loan;
now we are addicts of excess.
Has it always been this way?
Searching daily for advantage?
Hunting for the easy prey?
Putting them at disadvantage?
Consider then the nascent earth,
rolling forth in its perfection.
Safe for us from date of birth;
lives within our world’s protection.
Shouldn’t we give something back;
become ardent stewards of all life?
Summon strength that others lack;
depart from paths that beckon strife?
In doubt that you might shepherd change
and render chaos into sanity?
Offer truth in fair exchange
as worthy bargain for humanity?
This would be a daunting task—
challenge to the noblest mind—
yet some are unafraid to ask
what they might do for humankind.
Let thus emerge a sacred mien,
that one with purpose can surpass.
For lawns could never be so green
without each single blade of grass.
My soul seems to be hidden today.
Where can it conceal itself?
I thought it was always with me,
Roaming the endless paths
That clatter the corridors of my mind,
coursing through my arteries and veins,
invading all essential organs
that keeps me alive all day.
Maybe it flew away
Like some mad eagle that lost its way!
I will not search for it.
It will return when it feels
There is a need for it.
My feet follow tracks unknown
Oblivious of time and space.
I meet old friends and strangers,
I pass on,
I do not recognise their mien.
I thread through paths lined
With rampant dark green ferns,
I slush through shallow muddy pools,
I rest below the copious hedgerows.
Down in the valley cows are milked,
Geese cackle and cocks crow,
Cats copulate in peace.
Fragrance of new-cut hay
Makes my nostrils flare.
Smoke billows from the chimney
Of an old cottage near the farm.
Should I invite myself,
Betake a country hearty meal?
I am welcome
Urged to taste the home-brewed beer
Or the new fermented cheese.
I feel a kind of peace.
Perhaps my soul is back
Or perhaps it's the beer or the cheese.
Who can say?
Professor Abdul Kalam the luminous brilliant star
I pay homage to you from here in Dar
Great brill scientist in the field of Aerospace
A noble man with an intellectual mien and grace
Aeronautics and more were his speciality wow!
He's referred to as India's best known nucleur Scientist.
An inventive mind has passed away now
Lets celebrate and commemorate a great catalyst
He did India proud and did a lot for her
All Indians who know him will concur
Elected as her great President as well
Sad now to bid him adieus and farewell
Yay, the Indian soil has now a brilliant hero in her bosom indeed
I adoringly salute this great man of my race and my creed.
When a scientist dies it is a great loss for us all
May God raise more like him after his inevitable fall
But he can now repose in heaven's lap
On earth though he has left a mighty gap.
God I believe, loves those who utilise His gift of brains
Meditation releases us from earthly fetters and chains
Science and learning works your mind ; the brain needs exercise too
So I thank God for scientists , for scientific minds
That help to illuminate and enlighten this world, for me and you.
Panagiota Romios
She ignores her pain and waltzes
on tiptoes on billowing clouds
She hugs the sun and the crowds
of stars with the moon above
as she walks this earth loving God
with all her being a world of many faults
She lets her breath of golden sun
whisper words before the serene
ardent night that slumbers, dreaming
with cautious, academic mien
allowing her pen flow, not just one,
with sunshine and meaning.
With her might black ink sword,
she, a knight defending against a hoard
of critics with the Armour of the Lord
She is a loyal friend I've never met
except in her words, how can I forget
She brightens my day with her soul speaking.
Allow yourself to know her with bless feelings.
1/7/2022
In twilight, old songs you're softly humming.
Languorous smiles silken your lovely face,
beguiling my presence still, becoming
in all your ways, a gift of heaven's grace.
Deep your eyes, beheld above the stillness
of mystic mien, dismissing every voice.
Caresses known in sadness and in illness,
a bounty cherished, if you make the choice.
Alluringly, you draw the bedroom curtain
and move in softest song of violins.
Of languid looks and outcome certain,
as old as Eve, the ancient dance begins.
Sway, your heated honey scent of passion
and poise, anticipating kiss conceived,
shall return my longing, in your fashion
and make my life ten times a joy perceived.
My love grows great to see your form advance
and weave with siren song the ancient dance.
Dull As A Disease
I am sitting in my Dorchester lair,
Behind the door I do feel your mien,
When my poetic muse is in apt flair
You look real as life, my amore mia.
When I am surfing on the internet,
You are there in my click I envisage,
When I initiate to scribe sonnet,
I see you duly embossed on the page.
Sighing, wry face, lips as dry as a leaf
Your green blue deep eyes upraised fully,
Neither the death kills me, nor does the life,
Your very silence eats my soul and body.
Dull as a disease, I die of a thought,
Do not you fancy the same as I ought?.
============================
Date 21-10-13
Dr. Ram Mehta
Third place win
Contest: I Recall by Frank H.
Birthday Sonnet
My love's not passive, shy and free of strife
Nor are her eyes soft deep and limpid pools
No, in those orbs there burns the fire of life
Of value more than any precious jewels
No perfect features hers as of a dream
Nor model's swaying steps along chalk line
With youthful body and a fresh faced mien
She walks with purpose and arrives on time
Soft words are not her currency of choice
No Mary she to wash my feet with tears
Sharp wit and humour exercise her voice
And fed my soul and body throughout the years
Though thorny words may cause my ears to smart
Above it all she'll be here in my heart
A Victorian house kept in perfect shape,
A garden that made a beautiful landscape.
A notice stated it was for a quick sale,
But do beware of the ghost and its foul wail.
It was the ideal place I had in mind,
A guest house with staunch brave guests that were inclined,
To stay and face the evil ghost of the night,
A hefty fat fee to make me rich and bright.
The door was open, saw all was in order,
Already felt like a great castle warder.
I lit as many candles as I could find,
Victorian furniture I had in mind.
Behind me a wail and the big door slammed shut
An ugly witch appeared but I had the gut
To stand up to her and gave her a big fight:
”Is that how you present yourself this dark night?”
“And how would you have me, my dear grandmaster,
A lovely lady, displaying an aster?”
I turned on her, now she had found the right scheme.
Her mien quickly changed, and my eyes had to gleam.
“You will keep your lovely looks in perfect shape,
My rich guests will admire and probably gape,
No loud wails or shrieks but you can softly moan,
Then in the darkness, you'll leave your guests alone.
I must warn you, no fancy sleeping with guests,
They will die and surely will never find rest.
I'll have to find other ghosts to run this place
My son will be a cashier, he's full of grace.”
”Oh, you must be some kind of devilish host.”
I smiled, hugged her and whispered "I am a ghost."
Placed 1
25 February 2023
Writing Challenge -H Words - Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Constance La France
Written in couplets. 11 Syllables per line.
I did not know her much
but there was warmth in her touch
Tall and quiet,serene and cool
politeness was her rule
I did not know her much
but there was warmth in her touch
Feminine in manner and mien
an example upon our scene
I did not know her much
but there was warmth in her touch
Her eyes filled with grace
she will be missed in fellowship's place
I did not know her well
but in me this impression dwells
....there was a warmth in her touch
I shook Doreen's hand in welcome at the door of our church last Sunday morning,she died in
her sleep on Sunday night, aged eighty-six.She had attended our Time out for Seniors(our
church's monthly community lunch/fellowship ) where I sometimes joined her & her friend for
the meal part.She lived in a local care home and started coming to our church within the last
year.
I am sitting in my Dorchester lair,
And behind the door I do feel your mien,
When my poetic muse is in the air,
You look real as life to me, “Amore Mio”.
When I am surfing on the internet,
You are there in my click I envisage,
I initiate to scribe a sonnet,
And lo! I see you embossed on the page.
Sighing, wry face, the lips as a dried leaf,
Your greenish deep eyes upraised fully,
Neither death kills me, nor does lonely life,
But your silence eats my soul and body.
Numb as a disease, I die of a thought,
My love, don’t you sense the same as I aught?
=========================
A Shakespearian sonnet in Iambic Pentameter (ABAB CDCD EFEF GG)
Contest: Loneliness 7Th place win
A picture appeared on my phone today,
on the proverbial page I perused.
A view of an evil most vile,
villainy veiled behind verve and vim.
Sadists from Auschwitz,
smiling in a storm.
Shoulders shrugging,
to shield from the sky.
No hint of the horrors,
the Holocaust they heralded.
Not haunted like the humans they harrow,
but hyenas, howling, in high humor after the hunt.
Their consciences clear, their cruelty concealed,
their cheer chills me to the core.
They caused such wicked calvary,
a calamity that echoes into the current century.
Yet they dare to delight,
while they deal in death and dread.
Their depravity so deep that they grin,
as they decry virtue and destroy millions.
But what mortifies me more is,
how mundane their mien.
Will we fear the next fiends fittingly,
or in time... if their faces feel like friends'?
Over the west Sun dies, oozing blood,
The hillside glows in a ruddy blaze,
Pink and crimson fade slowly around,
And a pallid shade taints the twilight haze.
By and by, darkness descends like foggy mist,
Wrapping the Earth in a blanket of gloom
And God turns on his ornate chandeliers
To illumine the world in effulgent gleam
Attended by a cortege of starry maids
The Full Moon arrives in her glowing raiment
Evading the amorous presence of clouds
She enthrones herself before the royal regiment
So glad she is in her princely state
And in her fair mien, she takes delight
Bards and lovers have often been mesmerized
By such charm surpassing all that is bright
Beaming, she gives the night its nocturnal glee
Beckoning us heavenward to gaze and praise.
With benign grace and regal grandeur she smiles
On kings and clowns and on all the human race
She changes her contours with every unleashing night
Constantly renewing and reveling as a glamorous queen
She leaves the world aglow beneath the blue sky
Lending the night its unrivaled celestial sheen
April.13. 2022
A Brian Strand Premiere Choice Poetry Contest