Best Nonchalantly Poems
Placid rain gently kisses unblemished windows
as leaves fall in an Autumn breeze.
In the distance cinereal clouds congregate,
converging upon the city's royal citadel.
Oblivious to the storm, adrift in cultural fiction
she sits immersed from the ambience
of the scent of new leaves.
Hypnotised - tranquil words enchant her mind,
as her eyes nonchalantly embrace each paragraph.
Her heart is at peace, relating to each character,
some that make her smile - others that displease her.
Jealous winds blow abundant rain,
like bullets shooting against her window.
Attempting to distract from her infatuation,
but her spirit is an unconquerable fortress.
The world is forgotten to her,
as her soul performs the role
of her favourite character.
Observing to learn through them,
so she can learn about her self.
The final page,
the last sentence,
leads to watery eyes.
For the peace and beauty
she experiences in books,
she does not find in life.
Simple Musings
Silent One
5 October 2017
Categories:
nonchalantly, analogy, appreciation, books,
Form:
Prose
Last POTD for the year - 31st Dec 2017
An eagle spirit conquers storms of adversity,
like a silent soul floats amongst the sky's artistry.
Soaring higher, ascending further from perception,
free from judgemental realities of deception.
Through silver rippled clouds glimpses of sun’s projection,
people - hills and streams merely blurred hued perfection.
Cocooned in tranquillity - brightly scintillating,
Elevated flow of peace astral souls stimulating.
Drifting like peaceful streams, formless in spirituality,
floating nonchalantly lured by the moon's hospitality.
Stars illuminate creating the path's foundations,
soul ascends carefree from a life of tribulations
Swathe in crystalline warmth of a galactic revelation,
merging with the Universe in its empyrean constellation.
Released from worldly strife in its final aspirations,
soul reaches joyous heights in its heavenly inspirations
A Maria Williams and Silent One collaboration
29 December 2017
Last POTD for the year - 31st Dec 2017
Categories:
nonchalantly, analogy, freedom, peace,
Form:
Rhyme
Every night I close my eyes,
loneliness suffocates my soul.
I rapidly escape through a portal of dreams,
where we once met with a passionate embrace.
In your arms I felt alive,
but dreams fade away like stars afraid of dawn.
Loneliness returns with its gloomy silence,
yet again, I am absorbed in cloudy days.
I remain alone, intoxicated in your thoughts,
But I yearn to be found, like an undiscovered treasure.
I want to be touched, to be adored.
My heart yearns to smile once more,
laugh from my soul, feel alive,
dancing on clouds, our stepping stones to heaven.
I want just you.
I recall, how the mysteries of the universe,
bonded our souls to ignite lost flames.
Vibrant embers floating from star to star,
how stardust glittered in your hair.
Naked moon shone through your eyes -
as the galaxy admired us drifting nonchalantly.
In horizon's black shroud,
you were a masterpiece of magnification.
Subtle artistry of your touch,
seduced silent stars to sigh.
But as each star faded away,
Jealous sun stole you from me.
In my breathless ambiguity,
I ponder if you were a hallucination or fantasy -
only my lover in distant dreams.
Now the beat of my heart is out of tune,
in the absence of my sacred beloved.
Yet, I still feel you inside me.
I curse the necessities of reality,
searching for my spiritual lover.
Close my eyes, to sleep for eternity -
seeking that alternative phenomenon.
Where romance and love reside in a never ending story.
Silent One collaboration with Akkina Downing
3 November 2020
Akkina and I wrote this last night. Akkina, is a great poet who has not posted for two years, because she was bullied! I wanted to encourage her to write again and post her wonderful poems.
Please encourage her by visiting her page:
https://www.poetrysoup.com/poems_poets/poems_by_poet.aspx?ID=81129
Thank you
Categories:
nonchalantly, dream, fantasy, love,
Form:
Free verse
An eagle spirit conquers storms of adversity,
like a silent soul floats amongst the sky's artistry.
Soaring higher, ascending further from perception,
Free from judgemental realities of deception.
Through silver-rippled clouds, glimpses of sun's projection,
Animals, hills and streams merely blurred perfection.
Cocooned in silent tranquillity, brightly scintillating,
Elevated flow of peace astral souls stimulating.
Drifting like peaceful streams, formless in spirituality,
Floating nonchalantly lured by the moon's hospitality.
Stars illuminate, creating the path's foundations,
Soul ascends carefree from a life of tribulations.
Swathe in the crystalline warmth of a galactic revelation,
merging with the Universe in its empyrean constellation.
Released from worldly strife in its final aspirations,
Soul reaches joyous heights in its heavenly inspirations.
Categories:
nonchalantly, analogy, freedom, inspirational, nature,
Form:
Rhyme
Every night I close my eyes,
loneliness suffocates my soul.
I rapidly escape through a portal of dreams,
where we once met with a passionate embrace.
In your arms I felt alive,
but dreams fade away like stars afraid of dawn.
Loneliness returns with its gloomy silence,
yet again, I am absorbed in cloudy days.
I remain alone, intoxicated in your thoughts,
But I yearn to be found, like an undiscovered treasure.
I want to be touched, to be adored.
My heart yearns to smile once more,
laugh from my soul, feel alive,
dancing on clouds, our stepping stones to heaven.
I want just you.
I recall, how the mysteries of the universe,
bonded our souls to ignite lost flames.
Vibrant embers floating from star to star,
how stardust glittered in your hair.
Naked moon shone through your eyes -
as the galaxy admired us drifting nonchalantly.
In horizon's black shroud,
you were a masterpiece of magnification.
Subtle artistry of your touch,
seduced silent stars to sigh.
But as each star faded away,
Jealous sun stole you from me.
In my breathless ambiguity,
I ponder if you were a hallucination or fantasy -
only my lover in distant dreams.
Now the beat of my heart is out of tune,
in the absence of my sacred beloved.
Yet, I still feel you inside me.
I curse the necessities of reality,
searching for my spiritual lover.
Close my eyes, to sleep for eternity -
seeking that alternative phenomenon.
Where romance and love reside in a never ending story.
An amazing collaboration with my dear friend Silent One
3 November 2020
I was bullied two years ago here and was too scared and hurt so I left. But today I am back to stay. Thanks to our great friend Silent One for his most encouragement and belief in me.
Thank you
Categories:
nonchalantly, emotions, lost love, love,
Form:
Free verse
A muddy toad 'ribbits,'
before leaping away -
to which I ponder,
if fairy tales were true,
who's 'Prince Charming.' would you be?
I smile,
in the quiet pond's reflection.
I can see fading green leaves falling,
as petals wilt from red to rust.
Soft gold sunbeams caress ripples,
like little Autumnal whispers from
nature's story of seasonal growth.
Bare branches reach for the sky,
full of empty nests and bird feeders.
Lost in thought...
I wonder who knows their secrets
and where does the queen bee hibernate...
Colours of time nonchalantly drift by,
as daylight fades into clementine hues.
I bid kaleidoscopic Koi goodbye,
who pop to the surface with their
'gaping' motions, hoping for food.
Chill winds weave into indigo air,
floating through misty meadows -
crow caws can be heard from a distance.
Sky slowly forms sparkling spotlights
in a clear black backdrop,
where the whole of the moon is visible.
The toad returns,
now clean and shimmering,
but still no crown upon his slimy head.
We both sit and gaze in silence,
as stars shape into different forms.
I connect them like dots,
so many patterns appear -
a dove, an angel, a face.
"Hey prince of toads can you see the unicorn?"
I ask, before a flash of light bursts like a firework,
but all I get in return is a "ribbit."
Maybe he agreed, maybe he laughed,
maybe it was a profound message -
but we shared an air of magic that night.
Categories:
nonchalantly, imagination,
Form:
Imagism
Your feelings in a group of touring innocence
travel up North towards trust and sincerity
in sweet submissive care like a carefully rubbed suede.
You put day light into your entrapment
for noontide to go nonstop.
Caress from yonder, massage from under
your skirts make appetite nonchalantly mourn
your legs present so nutraceutical to manly weakness.
If your bones are licked by wild beasts
the jungle would be protected by the ghost of sweet affection.
If the rains fall through the planes of your body
vapours of lust and desires will spring out of the Earth.
Your expensive flare, expresses you as a needed nougat
sliding pleasurably though wet lips in a greasy enjoyment of noodles
with aroma and taste capping up a nouvelle cuissine.
Night is dead from your day-long engaging chemistry
making the aggression of your nubile emission
in ration to any attempted resistance an improper fraction
when the night's light strike your contrasting body
for the creation of a mobile image so dark and graceful,
nature will sit down beauty for a serious interview.
Categories:
nonchalantly, emotions, i love you,
Form:
Romanticism
WRITING IN A BLACK PERSPECTIVE
Why is it that someone's pain is felt pleasure to another?
I arrived with fears. I cared to find a friend, anywhere
But I wasn't taught to be my own; no school helped me to look within
I heard of God of deep blackness; with words, inciting light
One voice, one eye in our universe
My voice to converse felt crippled.
My family pools held many colors; warm as Caribbean sea breeze
Each person was of significance. Two were like gazelles, alluring
One was as dark as night, the other was near blinding white
Those in between were earth tones.
I looked out beyond decked windows. Multicolored Christmas lights blinked
Nonchalantly in dark of morning; snow was falling, and had covered bare
limbs of a cherry blossom tree- such picturesque view, i decided:
'On this most snowing, all white reigns supremely pure, as the black of night.'
The irises of my eyes were dark brown pools, merging with black pupils...
I was cinnamon; yet found solace in my shade of dark, no harsh light
Soft was my dark. No more depression lurked within. Mine eyes, my ears craved
Transparency; then came clarity. I understood triggers triggering depression
Revelations were as treasured as exercise. Fresh air, rain, sun, I was in awe of
My Higher Power's helpful hands- simplicity and clarity were blessings
I needed no Prozac.
At the start of a new day, I'd submerge in warmth, and baptize myself
I would bring soothing light to mesh with quiet dark
I would lounge, meditate, and pray. Sometimes I'd sing or hum a tune
I'd go fearlessly in the dark, knowing when not to rush
I'd go fearlessly near blinding lights, knowing where to focus.
Who am I? i am as soft as the sinews of you; yet steadfast
A dessert flower with dew of faith- even in winter
I am a flower, thriving like evergreen...
Amid histories fiercest touch to my roots
I know of grace, granted by the Source
Transcending me to live as never before understood.
I need not cry out my fears, in ways that let others fear
I must cry out injustices, so that others, too, may sing
I go fearlessly to face my fears, knowing scars are lessons learned
And good visualizations are as friends, not foes.
*
Categories:
nonchalantly, perspective, universe,
Form:
Free verse
On the shadowed banks of river they sat together
Adulating setting sun quivering in rippling currents
Where golden filaments shimmered on blue water
Forming and breaking ephemeral circular motions
Undulating amber rays on eve’s buoyant emotions.
Her dimples smiled upon her visage of royal poise
Enticing him to probe her cheerful, enamored eyes
Mesmerizing as yet un-blossomed amatory dreams
As they raved of college, friends, late nights carefree
Exploring coyly maiden impulses of mature themes
Inflaming seductively, untrodden clues of fantasies.
Alas! those memories now~ dulcet still, but empty.
Never he saw her again on her side of the prairies
Strolling nonchalantly, engrossed in birds chirping,
No one standing there now to steal his glances slyly
Hiding behind notions of secrecy, at first meekly,
Though later, quite daringly, wantonly, frequently;
Elevating him unlike anyone else, before, or since.
Her last letter to him was cryptic, yet informative:
A rustic farm house, cow moos amid clucking sounds,
Boy and a girl, flower beds, and a dog named Duffy~
A simple life on landscapes lauding ancestral heritage.
He remembers well~ saying it, genuinely meaning it,
As movingly she indulged in life that could have been,
Awkwardly dropping hints, soon she’ll be married.
Yet, here she is now intimating, she too so loved him~
Validating his belief—though offering a mere fig leaf--
A vain gesture to convince him she honored his dream
Memorializing secret pact, living life in his blueprint:
Boy and a girl, rustic farm house, a dog named Duffy.
April 12, 2022
Poem of the day on April 14, 2022
Placed 1st: This or That, Vol 11 Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Edward Ibeh
Title chosen: Fig Leaf
Categories:
nonchalantly, lost love, love,
Form:
Free verse
I did a show in this tiny town called Longyearbyen. We went snowmobiling around Svalbard and saw Arctic foxes, snow bunting, polar bear footprints and almost got lost in a blizzard.
Bill Bailey
Footprint
Nonchalantly, the broach of a bear’s footprint.
Not any bear…a polar bear; and blizzard…
a blizzard to cover one’s tracks. Indeed, lost -
bobbing along on a snowmobile venture.
The twist and turn of fact and myth dangles
at the edge of a bluff. Still, I can see it -
a wild fox in a white fur coat, with its bushy tail,
and a snow bunting, in flight, with black-tipped wings.
A footprint is a funny thing…I am there,
transported to a frozen oddity. My eyeballs
ogling the path, digging deep, down into the tundra.
What more will I discover on the polar beat?
Will the bear follow me as I retreat?
2/18/2023
Writing Challenge -F
Constance La France
Categories:
nonchalantly, adventure, animal, bird,
Form:
Free verse
“Let me be strong, for to be anything else is to languish in the abyss of compromise and to descend to places of impoverishment so destitute that they will squelch my soul and crush my heart.”
Craig D Lounsbrough
When left to languish in lament.
Metaphorical swords become tired
from words portrayed through bloodshed.
Misery is a master of manipulation,
pulling strings of sorrow,
personifying portraits of puppets in pain.
When dreams and desires disappear,
nonchalantly negating nocturnal nigrifying nightmares,
a heavy heart hoarding hurt is helpless,
crawling like a caterpillar without a cocoon.
In an anthology of anguish,
spirit withers in a lyrical language,
lost in lanes of latent lament,
so we search for signs to our secret sanctum,
to heal broken wings of bandaged butterflies.
When hope, like carnations of death, crumbles,
resembling crying chrysanthemums.
Tepid tears of tribulation,
trickle in trails of tired tinges of insecurities -
yet we still yearn for an expurgated Eden.
In the internal insanity of suffering,
sanity searches for a relief from repression,
as our existence can emanate into
a chalice full of missed challenges,
if we do not learn from life's lessons.
When trauma reverberates on repeat.
Words are as fragile as a beautiful ballerina,
without a ballad in a ballet of broken hearts.
Yet our pens crave to dance on virgin fibers.
Our souls are an essence of evanescent emotions.
There are no winners in battles with silence.
In the rationale of reason.
raging rutilant ink pleads to pour
puddles of purifying poetry,
gracefully releasing breaths of suppression -
A speechless saviour for timid tongues.
Categories:
nonchalantly, analogy, angst, perspective,
Form:
Free verse
It stood on the other side of the wall rooted firmly
for the white bougainvillea tree did not belong to me
Wondered why it always branched this side
paving my walkway with blooms of white
While I patiently waited for my rose bush to flower
it nonchalantly continued its year-long showers
Unbothered unfettered by the gardener’s reaper, it grew
in every direction, old branches shooting off the new
Assiduously each day I tried to broom them away
but they, like a mother’s kisses were always there
Falling softly like advices from an old friend
they were fragile, paper-white, yet persistent
With gentle breeze they glide to me be it summer rain or spring
Innumerable, countless like God’s many blessings.
Categories:
nonchalantly, natureold, old,
Form:
Sonnet
If a poet falls in love with you
you will live forever.
Atticus Finch - To kill a mockingbird.
In the midst of conundrums, of 'what ifs.'
I dislike the ocean,
its bitter saltiness, brings no joy.
Perched safely, upon the highest cliff,
watching waves surge upon the shore.
They are a constant reminder of
how you waved goodbye.
Each ripple carried you away - forever.
Lost in reflection,
sentimental memories remain eternal.
Recalling how the sun caressed your face,
mirroring your spirited smile -
like a lantern in my darkness.
Still unforgettable -
the joy in those soulful eyes -
each time you glanced at me.
Nonchalantly, I would follow you.
As we walked without a care -
you never seeming to tire.
In our youthful playground,
rusty see-saws and swings
still remember our laughter and tears -
that first sophomoric kiss
and I can still taste you.
When night would arrive,
there was no fear, hand in hand.
You were like a mystical pixie,
glowing in the enchantment of moonlight -
it would illuminate through your eyes.
We could have danced all night,
our souls ascending to the heavens.
But, I was afraid of new horizons,
because, I knew you would depart -
just like a shooting star.
Without thinking,
I broke your heart -
before you could heal mine.
I remain in the silence of 'what ifs.'
But, I smile, content -
knowing that once there was a time,
your heart and mine,
merged like day and night.
Simple Musing
4 July 2020
This is a fictional poem.
An example for the 'One who got away' contest.
Categories:
nonchalantly, loss, love, youth,
Form:
Free verse
Sweet opportunity is sometimes lost
when placed too nonchalantly on a list,
and somehow off that list it just gets crossed!
How sad to realize the good you’ve missed!
Great chances must be grabbed! They rarely wait.
Sweet opportunity is sometimes lost.
The wise man takes each chance that comes his way.
Procrastinators see their chance get tossed!
Some stick with what they know, but at what cost?
Suppose new treatments could postpone your death.
Sweet opportunity is sometimes lost.
Regret could haunt you to your dying breath.
An island holiday you do not take
when it is offered. So you wake to frost
outside your window on your late fall break.
Sweet opportunity is sometimes lost!
Oct. 29, 2016 for the Opportunity Contest of Nayda Ivette Negron
Categories:
nonchalantly, life,
Form:
Quatern
My poems are words with soul - Silent One.
As a monotone morning sketches
charcoal trees under
smoke filled foggy skies,
rain casually falls,
sliding down slate roofs,
causing havoc for traffic
on bustling roads.
Red lights seem to shimmer,
shining through shades of grey,
as the sound of raindrops drip
against my BMW's black bonnet,
my mind drifts nonchalantly,
discarding beeping horns and FM beats.
I ponder
is it an act or is it an art
this thing they label as life,
living with a formula formed and forged
from a mix of experiences and emotions.
I begin to question myself.
(why do we do that?)
I seem to have adopted a sense of vulnerability,
fusing feelings of fragility,
since my hair infused into silver (yes I chose silver over grey) -
something my father warned against.
But I'm not as tough as him,
although he wasn't half the man I am...
Yet what I have seen and heard,
has ultimately made me who I am today
and in all the suffering I have
always searched for the light -
Rumi was right.
Maybe I'm too open minded,
too fair in this field of selfish spirits.
Maybe I'm not loyal enough to my beliefs,
which contradict my moral compass
and philosophical projections,
but I've never claimed to be saint.
My soul is telling me to shut up..
I've always wondered if I'll ever be understood..
At least I understand me - but is that any consolation?
It's not as simple as wisdom accumulating.
Sensitivity of a smile can never be underestimated.
You have to peer beyond the verbal,
non verbal - comprehend the action.
Sometimes I feel unloved,
many times invisible,
yet I seem to come alive in loneliness.
Would I be a plaintiff or defendant
in a court of your judgment?
I will always represent myself.
Words with speech have never been true confessions,
as my thoughts are too deep,
sometimes too unreliable,
that's why I never pen them down -
it scares my soul (who tells me again to shut up).
I wonder if I make sense. Soul calls it nonsense.
Green flashing circle says I can go.
An abrupt end to contemplation.
Sadly grey tones and
tints of tiredness remain.
Simple Musing
8 December 2023
Categories:
nonchalantly, angst, how i feel,
Form:
Prose