Best Necklaces Poems
I have chosen You.
Sweet and handsome mortal, come to me…
Whisper to me your longings,
and I shall tickle your ear with my saccharine breath.
I shall take you to places
where only gods and goddesses roam.
Aware am I of how my radiant beauty entrances you...
Be thankful to the Fates that it is you I have chosen.
I have sprung forth from Ocean's foam,
but we shall churn that sea...
Flowers at my feet would pale
to the flowers that spring forth from my heart
How I know too well that my eyes mesmerize
A twinkle from the windows of my soul
and I know I have captured you.
I would gladly take off these necklaces ‘round my supple neck
if it means that your lips trail soft kisses instead…
I would happily unclasp these brooches in my hair,
and let my flowing tresses
tickle your gorgeous face and body,
as I take my turn to adorn you with my kisses.
I shall discard these golden robes made by the Kharites and the Horai
and reveal my nubile body for you to explore
with your eyes…
…with your hands
with your lips…
Let the Seasons be forgotten,
as we move to only know of Love.
I have chosen You.
Sweet and handsome mortal, Come to me…
August 5, 2010
A is for Aprons, like Moms used to wear.
B is for Barrettes that adorn young girls’ hair.
C is for Coats, many colors and styles.
D is for Diamonds, best friends that brings smiles.
E is for Elbow pads skateboarders use.
F is for Flippers folks might wear on a cruise.
G is for Gowns, to wear out . . . or to bed!
H is for Helmets - Hard Hats for one’s Head.
I is for Indian saris so bright.
J is for Jewelry that dazzles at night.
K is for Kilts used by Scotts, do you know?
L is for Lingerie, a woman’ peep show!
M is for Masks to look scary or funny.
N is for Necklaces from your sweet honey.
O is for Overalls, comfy for big men.
P is for Pajamas, so easy to fit in.
Q is for a Quilted skirts and jackets too.
R is for Rags - what our worn clothes turn into!
S is for Shorts, for a day warm and glad.
T is for Ties that we all give to Dad.
U is for Underwear. I can see France!
V is for Vest. It enhances your pants.
W is for Wig, great when hair has been shorn.
X is for Xmas clothes too rarely worn.
Y is for Yamaka - only for Jews.
Z is for Zippered, the clothes over buttoned ones that I would choose!
Oh, the things we’ve been wearing since Adam and Eve
first started it off by just wearing their leaves!
For the ABC Contest of CYNDI MACMILLAN
Written by Andrea Dietrich, a big fan of poetry and PoetrySoup.
The Polynesian pearl of the Northern Pacific,
A glittering paradise gleaming in brilliance,
Set float amongst the oceans clear waters.
A beautiful jewel reflecting in the different
Shades of aquatic blues.
The winds of peace blew in this tropical
Nirvana, until the ruler of the far east,
Thrust down his mighty fist of power,
Against the foreign invaders.
From the land of the rising sun, did
The red dragon awakens, blazing with a
Fires smoke, scaring a nations flag,
For generations to come.
It's scared wings as silent as a
Tiger, stalking in a thickets tall grass,
Of disbelief, it pounced without warning.
The American flag did spread out in
Protection, over top a sleeping harbor,
Lulled into a dreaming state of world peace.
As the eagle did lie at rest, the sons
Of the red dragon struck, at it's farthest
Point edge of it's nest.
Setting it's kindling to burn and sink,
Beneath the waters, of histories swift
Currents.
The bird of freedoms liberation, now
Alert defends it's territory's, by talons
Claws, and sharpened beaks bite.
Driving the dragons brewed backwards,
And reclaiming it's rightful perch, on
The stage of destiny.
But the pearl lies tarnished and broken,
Cracked forever this once Eden, never to
To be a child of innocence again.
Only a white momentum stands to mark
It's loss, she weeps the Polynesian princess,
For what has been done can never be undone.
A pearl necklaces of peace, torn apart by two
Titan's nations hatred, now it is nothing but
A broken strand and she is a prisoner,
Caught In the choke hold, of power between
The two of them.
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
Looking through the window of a shop,
I see you with a woman.
She lifts long auburn hair
while you, who stand behind her,
are fastening a strand of pearls
around her slender neck.
I close my eyes envisioning. . .
I've opened them to you
facing me,
and I'm the woman
with the red-brown locks!
You touch my cheek, and in your eyes
I read an urgent need.
You lead me to the door,
around the corner to an empty alley.
Our bodies press together.
In the chill of night,
I taste warm, wild kisses on my mouth.
"Darling, my darling," escapes my lips,
then suddenly my reverie is broken. . . .
A passerby has stopped
to place a dollar in my cup.
Murmuring my thanks,
I gaze once more into the store
where diamond rings and necklaces glitter
like new snow beneath a winter moon.
The man whom I could know
only in a different life,
who stands inside the store
where I could never go,
takes his sweetheart's hand
and leads her past me
pretending not to see
a common homeless woman
who yearns for so much more
than mere necessities.
For the Seeker's Being Homeless Poetry Contest
The Clanking Chain of Wild Geese
I was watching the September sky every day,
With a hope to once again get a glance,
Of the clanking chains of those lovely wild geese,
That suddenly appears with their music melodies,
But quietly they disappear every year,
Like a Rainbow that comes and gets lost gradually.
No one knows when like a rainbow,
The wild geese would appear suddenly,
While changing their forms like clouds in the sky,
Mesmerizing our eyes for few seconds or more, and then,
Disappearing in the sky, like the dim vanishing evening.
The wild geese often appear in the sky,
Forming a shape like the garland of God,
And quickly changing shapes, like our emotions,
While moving in the sky like an arrow,
They sing the joyous songs of today, not tomorrow.
Forgetting the past and the future like an arrow,
Which keeps running, until it reaches its marrow,
The destination to pierce a heart,
They create either a joy or sorrow,
While singing a song of today, not tomorrow.
Oh, September sky I watch,wonder with ,
And hope to see them once again,
My childhood friends wild Geese,
Coming from north and vanishing in south,
Like my thoughts which arise and fall.
But this year, I did not see the winged necklaces of God,
Neither could I see a rainbow being formed,
Nor even hear their chorus like songs,
No clanking of wings, No music of their joys,
No rise and fall of images like thoughts,
No sounds and music touching my heart.
One day, I was stunned to hear,
The species of goose are in great danger,
Man has stolen many of even God’s necklaces,
The rainbow of birds and the grandeur of sky,
A great heritage of Nature is vanishing before our eyes.
Oh, my sweet friend,
Will I ever be able to see and hear you again?
When you would clank your wings, in the windless sky,
Creating a dance and music, on such lofty heights,
Where no musician can ever fly,
With a hope till I am here on this earth my friend,
I would keep waiting and watching
For you O wild Geese in the September sky.
Ravindra
Kanpur India. 1st Oct. 2010
Dedicated to my loving wife Dr. Shashi Kapoor, as a birthday gift for her
Birthday on 2nd Oct. who loves animals and birds more than any thing
Else.
After Legend got blown up along with
all of the city zombies,
I was now the sole survivor and sick and tired of
hiding out at Hobby Lobby,
bored of making necklaces, soaps and candles
and doll houses every single day,
I decided hunting countryside zombies should make
up a good part of my day,
deciding to lure all of them south to the Everglades,
that way the alligators down there could have a feeding frenzy day,
running down there as if I were a female Forrest Gump,
the zombies right behind me slowly catching up,
finally making it the edge of the great swamp,
I lured the zombies close by and heard my first chomp,
taking a risk with my ammonia and urine alligator repellant
sprayed all over me,
the alligators came out snatching and eating all the zombies
except for me,
thank God because it gave me time to flee,
desperately searching for a bathroom around the glades,
from drinking on my run down there way too much Gatorade.
10-30-16
The chartreuse pearls hung on the pregnant vine
as whispered jade of leaves in autumn breeze.
The necklaces of trellis did entwine
like clefs of absinthe notes in verdant keys.
Limes envied grapes reflecting fervent sun,
bright clusters for musicians then to splay
in shamrock fields with fables to be spun
of emeralds and pears in harvest play.
Cerulean spread 'cross effulgent sky
when came the time for plucking of the harp.
Lithe fingers did each picker then apply
and place with grace refrains upon the tarp.
In peridot the countryside rejoiced
while to reprise fruition gave a voice.
Ah, ‘Love’! a lover’s repeated mantra!
I see me mutter it, just now, very now.
Sigh I high, a busy, burning furnace,
scrolling lines with aching, grieving woes;
she, a charmed worm, wriggles, snorts,
while floating on a fluffy, velvety cloud.
Is this repeated mantra pricier like a jewel:
a sapphire, a diamond, pregnant with
quintuplets? I know she never touched,
- she grieves! - a sapphire or a diamond.
Even necklaces howl at her golden neck —
It’s only a dream: a fluffy, airy dream,
A snorting, never wakening, dream.
When I say, “Love”, LUST - in me
SMILES: luscious, vicious, LUST —
that stays like a cat-snake, light-red,
cool inside “Love”, coiled - hiding —
its head in mid of his slithering body,
and approaches its prey - the victim
of love – STRAIGHT! - straight at night.
Jealousy, the quintuplet brother of Lust,
chuckles on hearing my mantra, "Love",
“There exists a hairy thinness between
Love and Me. We’re quintuplets”.
On my face, jealousy reads sky-rising
Flames in Troy and in an ivory pearl,
And I see Theseus puffing a mount
of flames at Hippolytus
and Love drowning in rising flames —
and other two quintuplet brothers moving,
blindfolded, round and round the dazzling pyre.
*A 3rd Place* in the following contest (Judged on Jan. 5, 2021)
Jan. 4, 2020 (originally posted on Dec. 2, 2020)
Your best free verse 2020 Poetry Contest
Contest sponsor: John Hamilton
* A 2nd Place* in the following contest (judged on Dec. 10, 2020)
Dec. 2, 2020
Catharsis Poetry Poetry Contest
Contest sponsor: Silent One
Inspiration from my own poem, “Jealousy” (published in 2018)
*
To
be
happy
you don't need
necklaces of gold
or all the money in the world,
what you do need though, is Love,Trust, and understanding
those are the things, that can't be bought with all the money in the world
or fifteen tons of gold.
What you can get to be happy is, Friendship,Husbands,Wives,Children,Grand
children, that is love,trust,understanding,a life of morality, GOD!
WoW thta was tough!
Bone Lady.
Pippa Gray
If you have come for romance, please leave.
Follow the fireflies and they will lead you
back through the woods, to your manmade path.
There is no sweetness or solace here.
I am a thunderstorm, a fierce force of nature.
My heart is a patchwork quilt of tattered skins,
Hand stitched with lengths of bloodied sinew.
I shall decline your perfumes and silken robes.
For I have my bones.
I throw them upon my thighs and listen
as they whisper of your future.
The dark to come,
Creeping in through the corners, from all directions,
To disturb the parts of you, that you refuse to examine.
As for necklaces or gold
I have no time for tin trinkets.
My jewels are mustika pearls,
Dug with my hands from the corpses of snakes and foals, from red fox remains and oak tree roots. As I roll them in my palm,
their spirits share secrets such as you'll never know.
There's no polite conversation in this space.
Tell me of your descent into madness,
Where your mind wandered through worlds
not known in your pleasant awareness.
Where your limbs were torn apart by
winged shadow creatures,
Who devoured your flesh.
Do not ask to stay the night.
For salamanders sleep with me,
Gliding through the embers of the fire,
caressing my skin with their warm licking tongues.
And my journeys to the other worlds
are not to be disturbed by lonely, snoring men.
I am not to be rescued or conquered.
For I am vast, unchained...
Indeed, freer than you could ever hope to be!
You there, shrinking, stinking in your self imposed conformity,
while you weep at night for the lost parts of your soul.
They flew, my friend!
To be with the talking swans in the faery glen,
Where they could live the life that they deserved...
I spoke with them in the lowerworld!
And they do not wish to be returned to you anytime soon!
So leave quickly while you can.
Return to the old sprung bed where you were born,
Before you are forever changed
by the reflection in my eyes.
For once awoken,
You can never sleep soundly again.
The Season is changing
Like every thing of life, the season is changing,
The water laden clouds are vanishing gradually,
Leaving space for the scattered yellow pink and white,
The birds are chattering on green branches of trees,
Before the leaves turn purple or gold or get pale to leave.
The season of summer heat and tiring humidity,
Is gradually transforming into cool blowing breeze,
The Sun is spreading its golden treasure so lavishly,
Spreading its wealth of gold dust, on the wondering clouds,
And throwing rest of its treasures, on fields, forests and hills.
Hey, look the Koyal* is lost in its melodious singing,
To celebrate the joy and mirth that fascinates it a lot,
Without thinking for a moment, about the by gone past,
Or pondering in worry for a future, which is not,
Singing and singing only one day it would get lost.
From the North West, the new birds have started showing,
Their appearances, while clanking their wings in the sky,
And forming shapes of alluring elegance and beauty,
As a lovely guest they come, in the bunch of sky necklaces,
To make us realize that the season and the life too is changing.
Ravindra
Kanpur India 5th Sept. 2010
* Koyal. A singing bird of India like nightingale.
She is not a prima ballerina at the age of three
but I stand and applaud when she dances for me.
Eloise, my granddaughter is such a lil sweetheart
I painted her image, but she's the real work of art.
When we spend the day together, we talk a lot
about her pink flamingo, puzzles and dot to dot.
We gasp as Captain Hook tries to catch Peter Pan
and sigh when Belle takes the Beast's giant hand.
Yesterday, we baked cookies with chocolate chips
after eating quesadillas and coloring baby doll lips.
We made pretty necklaces and painted pine cones
and face timed each other on make-believe phones.
It's much too quiet when she leaves; and a little sad
I reminded her Santa is watching, and not to be bad.
She smiled and said, "Nana, I'm on his good girl list."
Then, she took her Daddy's hand and blew me a kiss.
Irene....My Mother and I.
I cannot believe I am her daughter!
She always dressed in the very best taste.
Very little jewelry, conservative
dresses, no slacks, are you kidding?
A white-gloved perfect lady,she.
Hats she wore yes, exquisite ones.
Never a babushka on her coiffure.
Boots,too, my Mother loathed,
In those years, verily homely were they.
However,in platformed heels, she was
true beauty in motion.
Panagiota, her daughter, the dreamer,
Thinks everyday day is Carnival in Rio!
And would wear a Samba outfit
Right this day, if only she could!
Be a true Sambanista, bringing the joys
of Brazil to your neighborhood.
Loves humongous earrings and necklaces.
People stare at her with strange faces.
And she is insane over shoes metallic.
With colorful gems upon them or
flowers, totally exotic.
Her dreams to be a Rockette, alas, if
only she could.
Quite the woman~ a legend in her own
mind!
Writing poetry, in an imaginary land
of her own making.
In her magenta robe, sparkling adornments
in her hair and gold MaryJane shoes, as dainty as flowers!
Writing her soul poems by the hours.
Cannot forget her paramours!
Listening to the music of Antonio Carlos
Jobim, total heaven!
Enjoying her freedom and ever so blessed!
A Princess~ ruling in a land all her own
smiling with flowers.
Her hand, with the giant moonstone
ring from Peru,
Her passion for all things turquoise,
jade or Santorini blue
Her head, never stuck in things practical.
Just flies in all directions,never pedantic.
Purely, romantic or totally magical.
Thus~ is her setting for writing poetry,
She cherishes your comments in this
land of the free!
We roaming souls connecting by things so
ecstatic~
This is so very joyous and totally
far from all things tragic.
Panagiota Romios
3/24/2019
Quote:"All art is autobiographical. The pearl is the oyster's autobiography".
Federico Fellini
The Taos Indian crafted jewel,
A necklace strung with jade and some other gems.
Looked so pretty to me, I bought it on the spot,
Presented it to my wife, which she never wore in her life.
Once I asked her, why don’t you wear that necklace?
You would look pretty in it and would arouse some romance.
She looked at me and asked, have you ever judged jewelry?
Whoever wears green stone jewelry, I would rather buy a pearl necklace.
What is so special about pearl necklaces?
Pearl harvesters find only in one percent of oysters,
Its layers of sand, glued in oyster’s glands,
Still women love the bright white lustier of beady pearls.
She is gone for many years, the jade necklace I keep in my heart,
It’s not the value of jewelry, it is what it is sentimentally worth,
She wore pearl and other jewelries, and tried to look her best,
If she had worn my gift necklace, she would have looked her best.
Now I adore her picture on the wall,
With the jewelry she did not like at all,
To me she looks the prettiest doll,
Wearing this precious jade jewel crafted by love.
Dragon got excited, just the other day
He wanted to meet his Dragon friend Drag
Way out in that Lone Star Texas State
So he donned his really big Texas boots and hat
Put his courageous penguins right there, on his back
They too, were dressed in their cowboy best, duds N stuff
Then low and behold, my sweet little idiot, really did take off
To find Walker Texas Ranger, he said, and without me along
I was left there, staring, cause he didn’t invite me, awe Gee come on!!
Now I’d have to chase him in our really fast 50’s car that goes 22mph
But only to the edge of town, for he is a 3 year old baby dragon, after all
Yep, at that age, his body is big and his wings are small!
Yeah! It’s true. Don’t you know. Now, imagine the trouble he’s into!
Luckily he missed the house and barn, but nose-dived into the snow
Yep, the drift 4 stories tall! Thought we’d be searching there, for days
But out, from far below, came a mighty roar, from VERY deep within
Seems he didn’t like so much snow in his Widdle Baby Face and skin!
I’m laughing here, (again) Folks, but with that we knew where to begin.
It took the Fireman, Policemen, Butcher, Baker, and Candlestick Maker…
To finally get him out, fortunately, we have put trackers on the penguins
Yep, that helped to get THEM out. Isn’t technology marvelous? I say!
HEY! LITTLE penguins, BIG snow! Even you can figure THAT one out!
Seems their new necklaces with trackers, were perfect in this much snow
Yep! When we pulled Dragon out, his fire was (again) puffing snow!
The Trolls counted penguin toes to make sure we had them all.
Hey, don’t ask! Simply remember that they are Trolls, so no need to ask…
We made it home by nightfall and tucked all our tired little babies in to bed
Just so you know… Sorry Drag… The visit will have to wait, for a while
But perhaps we can try (again) next Fall, when the snows are melted.
Some more… Well… At least we can hope!