Best Nearby Poems
No doubt you've heard of fire-breathing dragons,
and their obsession with hoarding treasure.
But have you ever heard of Huffle-Winks,
magical creatures that promote pleasure?
Invisible, atop their dragonflies,
they ride the winds of fate, mile after mile.
And wherever they encounter a frown,
they attempt to flip it into a smile.
They summon dragonflies to get around,
for unlike dragons, they haven't learned to fly.
Yet, if you suddenly feel like laughing,
it's a safe bet; a Huffle-Wink's nearby.
In winter, when dragonflies disappear:
Huffle-Wink's ride upon tumbling snowflakes.
And if you're lucky enough to lure one,
it's like winning the lottery sweepstakes.
I've never seen one, except in my dreams:
deep in my heart, I know that they're real.
And what makes me so sure that they exist
is the joyful way that they make me feel?
When you're feeling particularly blue,
remember, Huffle-Winks are all around.
And as spirits of jocularity,
they ensure that smiles and laughter abound.
"Where There's A Shadow, Nearby There Is Light"
In some of the darkest moments of life
that kill the Joy and replace it with strife,
one must remember and keep the lid tight,
"Where There's A Shadow, Nearby There Is Light!"
When everything that was going good goes bad
and the day is turning into the worst day you've ever had!
Don't lose Hope and keep Faith in sight,
"Where There's A Shadow, Nearby There Is Light!"
If the trials and tribulations start coming your way,
and you want to shout out, but what would you say?
Hold on with all of your "Power and Might!"
"Where There's A Shadow, Nearby There Is Light!"
When you've climbed and you're near the top,
and forces come together to have you drop!
Don't give in! Stand tall in the fight!
"Where There's A Shadow, Nearby There Is Light!"
So when everything's looking bleak and grim
and your chances are null, void and slim,
even in the pitch black darkness of the night,
"Where There's A Shadow, Nearby There Is Light!"
Two
fawn stood
beyond Dale's
grave and fed on
fallen acorns. A
doe, then a second deer
haltingly drew near. One buck
hung back where grass met woods, head raised,
watching. . . like my dear brother - apart
from family, yet not too far away.
Why must I hear
the tempting gurgle
Of the life giving stream
A sound wet with promise
Of refreshment
Why must I see
The alluring rush of movement
Liquid heaven
An enticing flow
Beckoning me to immersion
Why must I but lie here
Dying for want of water?
The sandpaper of my lips
Not even welcoming
A tongue cracked
With not a drop of moisture
to bring relief
To assuage the grief
Or parched dreams
My throat constricts
contractions
that fail to produce
Life
I’m dying
My skin dry
I lie
Devoid of liquid to cry tears
Why? WHY?
Why Am I here
Beside this life giving stream
Tormented
Where is the angel
To lift my weary head
And gently pour this water
On my waiting lips
Patiently ministering
Again and again
Liquid healing
Waiting….
Till I’m somewhat revived
To carry me
Slowly
Purposefully
into waiting watery wetness
of heaven
Until I am baptized
In liquid bliss
I’m dying here
Here on the edge
I see
I hear
I can almost taste
Feel
The stream of your love
bathing me
quenching me
freeing me
healing me
Forbidden to drink
Forbidden to taste
Forbidden to touch
Forbidden to love
Forbidden to LIVE
But why?
Why must I die?
When the water of life
Is nearby
Eileen Manassian Ghali
*** Angels Always Nearby ***
“All day, all night. Angels watching over me, my Lord.”
(an old. slavery gospel song lyric)
Loving
Me always as God has asked them to do…
Holding
Me even when I may not feel them…
Praying
With my soul to grow in God-pleasing,
God-touching ways…
Listening
As I breathe or whisper, laugh or cry out…
Knowing
The words and needs that my heart and mind
speak silently inside…
Comforting
The sadness and pains of my somedays…
Seen
With their wings draping starlight
by my bed as I dream at night…
Heard
In the chorus of songs my heart and soul joyfully write…
To remind me that I am altogether fine
and always loved, because I am a child of God…
Given
Blessings of Love to grace
my every new and thankful day…
Wearing
Their friendship and faith brightly in many colors…
Moving
Where needed when called or sent,
even faster than light, even if needed to cross galaxies…
Knowing
The hopes God has for me and my own ways
To go to help others, my family, and to sing praises to Him
Staying
Beside me all my life…
Guarding
The doorways and passages anywhere near my standing up
or my resting in bed…
God’s good angels are patiently
By me always to protect and guide…
God’s many angels
Come in many types and sizes.
Likely, you’ll never truly see an angel
At least not one as bright yellow as a lemon
Or as gold as the sun; and you’ll probably
Never hear a band of invisible angels calmly
plucking and strumming green ukelelees.
Still, there might be two angels ready to let
let it all hang loose in the cosmos
Wearing blue shoes and playing kazoos, — happily
Too, for just a child as you!
And it’s so fun, so easy that you
might try to play a kazoo, too!
——————————————————————————————————-
This is first draft of a ms, for young children.
Each heading will have its pg, w/an illustration by me.
I call the illustrated angels for this, “children’s angels,”
more in the style of children’s artwork. My hope is this work
may foster youngster’s concept of a loving & caring God, also
as with His divine gift of protecting angels.
Any helpful notes or ideas much appreciated.
(c) sally young eslinger 1/23/23
Thanks be to God…
NEARBY SOUNDS.
Sound waves reach eardrum that is,
a cocktail of cooler,phone,
mixer,kids play,cats meow,
nightingale's koo hoo.
Dodoitsu form is a 26 syllable poem of 4 lines of 7,7,7,5 respectively.
CONTEST:Sounds of the day.
SPONSOR:Nayda Ivette Negron.
16/07/2016.
Be nearby me, get close to me,
my dear goddess
I want your tender mind
and spicy body next to mine.
Hold me close in a warm hug,
kiss my tears and sorrows
While our two bodies tangle.
You touch my body with your fingertips,
Then slowly your lips get together mine.
I can feel those striking feelings,
They feel, so simply celestial.
Come closer to me, my precious.
I have so much love to bestow.
I want to keep sharing it with you,
As long as we both shall survive.
BY
WILLIAMSJI MAVELI
[email protected]
Related Poetry Links:
http://www.williamsji.com
http://www.williamsgeorge.com
http://www.williamsmaveli.com
ABOUT THE POET:
Poetry dates all the way back to the beginnings of Humanity. People have always been questioning nature, and the day-to-day existence of themselves and other humans love, death, survival, war, injustice, and the universe are all examples of things that have been questioned by men and woman since the roots of human existence. Whether in nursery rhyme, ballad, jingle, rhyme, anthem, or music, people have found poetry to be an outlet for expressing these questions, sensations, and experiences. People often associate it with strict rhyming patterns, complicated vocabulary, hidden iconic meanings, and difficult rhythmical conventions. Poetry is even taught in school to be an intricate, complicated, inexplicable puzzle. True, poetry is difficult. Sure, it can be harder to understand than prose. However, that is only because sometimes it is involved with your inescapable complexities and uncertainties of your existence. Williamsji Maveli (Williams G Maveli) is an enthusiastic and solid writer. He is a sincere, resourceful and diligent in his poetic work. He is very well connected and networked within the literary community and is willing to take up projects even in his tight schedules. His writings reflect the amount of research on the current events that has gone into it along with his knowledge and expertise in the field. However, Williamsji’s many poems are simple to read, interpret, and understand. His latest book, titled “ARAMVIRALTHUMBATHU…” (On the tip of the sixth finger), is now published and released by H & C Books,Trichur which is a collection of lyrics.
Looking through the glass window
Visualizing in the dark clouds
Beside his lover’s bed
In a cancer department.
Comes back to her pallid face
He starts to whistle.
It’s a sweet loving song
That bound their young hearts
Since they were students.
The song of tomorrow’s life
Under the nice bright sky.
The whistling paused once in a while
By the memories of their graduation,
Wedding and honeymoon.
With watery eyes he goes on
Then he gently touches her face
Combs her hair with his fingers.
He watches over the gray rainy sky
Keeping on whistling
The same old one which she retold:
I love this song for my whole life!
SPIRIT AND STONE &
A GREAT LAKE NEARBY
Her father was
a difficult contradiction,
annoyingly similar to a certain
type of teacher, minister or priest,
to a certain type of imam, rabbi
or occasional poet, a confounding
combination of spirit and stone,
a faith in the unseen somehow
beautifully draped over a granite
demeanor, almost comforting and loving,
sometimes righteous and wise, a bit
menacing in mixed company, irritatingly
addicted to spiritual confrontation,
to breaking fragile things, causing
collateral damage when ministering
to students and to uncertain souls
He crashed through his family
and his wary community like hot Latin
jazz on a hot Saturday night, driving
and polyrhythmic on Afro percussion
irresistibly melodic, but demanding and
loud like a prayer of desperation offered
one time too many to an inattentive god!
And she was his daughter!
She was restless and young
and about to break out, her wicked
emotions like the whipped whitecap
waves and the cold northwest winds of
the Great Lake nearby, she was dangerous,
dynamic and deep in the middle, icy and
rocky at the forested edge, but sunlight
and diamonds on the right summer day
Always in turmoil, she didn’t understand
that she was just like her dad, didn’t
understand why they couldn’t just talk,
spend more time with each other, maybe
find common ground, get their attitudes
in synch, perhaps break things
together!
The child sees blue skies
Raptors spread their wings nearby
His little heart cries
A tree with yellow
And gold leaves lives close, nearby
Glistening in rain
It produces an air of
Fall in its supremacy
Russell Sivey
. for public domain
She felt dry inside,
past the time of blooms,
a lost petal pressed between lost pages
of a dusty book, stored among relics
in abandoned rooms.
Yet quietly nearby,
Hope, not with a boast,
trumpeting a victorious symphony
of vain promises of a life renewed,
hovered like a ghost.
She smiled wistfully,
"Love may come once more,
from someone who needs a hug, or kind word,
or just a friendly glance, as long as I
leave open my door."
“Hope springs eternal in the human breast;
Man never Is, but always To be blest.
The soul, uneasy, and confin'd from home,
Rests and expatiates in a life to come.”
- Alexander Pope, An Essay on Man
i wish i didn’t* but
i have to get across town
so off i go taking the bus
that drives through a nasty ghetto
i’m shocked as i look out the window
to see several dismal characters
i can’t imagine the misfortunes
that has brought them there
they’re low, they’re high
or maybe that's just their life
being low in between their high
houses so run down
they look like crackhouses to me
windows loosely boarded up
properties with signs for sale ~ as if !!
meanwhile i can't help
but notice that i'm the only
caucasian on the bus
i take the time to notice people in their uniforms
orderlies, cashiers, dishwashers, students
in their eyes bound determination to get ahead
and not land in this foresaken ghetto
and then we turn around a corner
back to the realm of civilization
like having crawled out of a deep hole
no wall no fence
just an imaginary line
that we dare cross at our own peril
doggedly holding our breath
cautious that the pit won't engulf us
* I'm on my way to a doctor's appointment that I'm dreading.
P.S. I feel it's important to mention that I live in Canada where we don't really use the term 'ghetto', and up here these quarters attract substance abusers.
AP: Honorable Mention 2025
Stony slates of stone nearby
Concreted beautifully on each other
Now mighty mountain afar
(Written for Jim)
Devotion Poem, You Nearby
You sit in a fog
Only right there,
Not because the weather has come inside,
But as my eyes no longer see so well...not
As well as my heart feels
You nearby.
And I’d call out, “I love you,”
But I would not hear your answer,
Because through my earphones
I am listening to Italian love songs. Longing.
So, perhaps, I only once again imagine
You nearby
With your wit and thoughtful opinions;
With your blue eyes; your hair grown long
And still brown (except at the temples)
Even tho you’re now 62; your shape has come to be
Like that of a growing teen, needing to eat;
Your entire being on alert
To any groaning from my any pain, so
I try to hide from
You nearby,
But not near enough,for my desiring you
Has not lessened, married now nearly 40 years,
It seems your eyes, your profile, and voice,
Your stature, your warmth, your strong touch,
Your wonderful being over there
All make the day grow dim before my eyes;
Turn the air to foam, swallowing my voice to
You to come closer to promise eternity again...
You nearby...
Is too far.
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(C) sally Young eslinger 1/20/21
Thanks to God