Best Ornamenting Poems


Big Foot

The sunset underlines divine visage as it shines above the lake
Before the stars ornamenting curtain of night will awake
The tired police sergeant drives home from shooting range  
When he encounters something strange

As he slowly drives someone walks out of bushes past the barley
This encounter to the detective feels very eerie
This person seems over eight feet tall
And puts bizarre feeling in sergeant’s soul

At first he thinks it is a bear in his sight
But the creature is walking up right
He turns on the light
And gets the glimpse of the being before it disappears into the night

It is a huge bipedal ape with shaggy hair
And his deep eyes into sergeant’s soul seem to stare
Of all the troubles in man’s world they seem to be aware
And their sad almost human gaze to meet is hard to bare 

The creature gives the eerie look and disappears into the night
The sergeant does not know if he should feel honor or fright
The creature did not come to fight
But to see it and look into its eyes was awe inspiring sight

About those eyes there was certain majesty
Like being who possessed them could control his destiny
And needed not to worry about backlash of destiny
Like if you only open your soul to them they can set you free

 Being who had those eyes believed that things more profound even than destiny was his
Someone who knew pain but found bliss
That beyond abstract resonance of destiny was just a start of found in those eyes abyss
The stare demanded justice yet was as gentle as morning sun’s ray kiss

When You Know You Will Die Alone

When you know you will die alone

The dust will be your last standing friends,

Your ashes will be the memories which you kept so safely

And time will be your priest, 

Not standing by your side and giving a heartfelt speech

But digging your grave, shoving your corpse and walk past by

Because of the sheer loneliness of it.



When you know you will die alone,

The sky will be blue, 

Still.

You will remember the walls that nourished your soul

Christy Brown's left foot,

James' imagination where you could find your dreams 

An odd Sarah strewn here and there

And of course, Ripley who could always love a cat forever. 



When will you know you will die alone?

When?  'I will not answer' said the Universe. 

This is something which I know, 

This is something we all know,

And the plants, the grass, the worn out table lamp,

Even the white paper staring at me,

Sang in a wisely, agreeable chorus.



With every word oozing out from a heart beat,

I am carving my tombstone,

With every thought exhaled with smoke,

I am ornamenting my casket,

With every fake smile,

I am inviting people to my funeral,

But...



I know I will die alone,

I will depart quietly from the stories,

Like an unsung hero,

Or a delusional villain,

Laughing the last laugh,

Later joining the priest for a funeral dinner.
© Iman Roy  Create an image from this poem.

At the End of Emerald River

Through, Machu Picchu, Nazca Lines, Cusco, and tunnels 
Through jungle and raging water currents and channels
Among ancient pyramids and Inca castles
Looking for gold and emerald crystals

Kayaking through a raging river down steep waterfall
Just before the fall
Fear makes you feel like you just swallowed your own soul
As the kayak spins out of control

You make it past the fall just to see
A narrow river passage in front of thou 
Along the passage there are sharp rocks of which there are three
This is danger but beyond it is your destiny

You try to make it between first two
But you will die if your aim is not true
But passage is so narrow there is nothing else to do
As the raging current pushes you down the river straight towards those two

From the first one you slightly bounce
Deep in a jungle you see Jaguar ready to pounce
You make it between the two but victory yet you can’t announce
For the third stone is there and not by chance

The passage is anything but wide
To make it through between rock and deadly walls of shore you tip kayak to the side
But as you look into the passage you see that stories haven’t lied
There is gold and jewels inside

You rest your kayak on shore passed the entrance hole
You feel strange presence in your soul
There are hundreds of tons of gold but that is not all
You see jaguar’s head carved of stone ornamenting the central wall

As you look ahead of top of the jaguar’s skull beneath
Of upper jaw’s underneath
There is a ring between carved jaguar’s lower teeth
Or actually resting on jaguar’s tongue behind the teeth

The ring is the essence of all thought
The jaguar is made of stone of destiny for which Gods themselves fought
Mathematical nirvana in the ring is theory of expanding thought
Levels of clairvoyance and nirvana in them through temporal vortex defines that thought


Premium Member Dance of December

December came dancing along
Implying clouds to play their pouring songs
Drenching land with affectionate warmth
Wrapping mountains in snow-white shawls
Enhancing streams with drizzly charms
Ornamenting rocks with soft white tops
Draping valleys with frills of delicate fogs
Aiding awaiting lake with new aquatic stock
Lifting spirits to prepare for Christmas Rock

City of Light

This beautiful breathtaking city is not near the sea
It is in the sea
Like Venice it has sublime majesty
With water channels stretching for infinity

But with one difference while in Venice people travel by boat
The one used to sail across river, sea or a moat
People of this city use huge Victoria lily to keep them afloat
People sit in this lovely flower and are carried by sailors that to carrying others time devote

Above the city in the linen blue sky
Protected by basilisks that beneath it will fly
There is something that through ages will never die
Something ornamenting the cities’ azure sky

It is like a spider web of crystals made of light
To the eye it is delight
The way it shines with more hues than are found in human normal sight
It allows one to see entire spectrum of energy not just visible light

The web is huge and light like honey dew
As it turns from one color to different hue
It was touched by very few
Its surreal mesmerizing beauty is as if air got denser and in it spirit actually weighted pound or two

And that is what it is after all
Beyond mathematical living reflection of the soul
And after all
The only place where one can truly be free is in deepest essence of the soul

My Love Is Immortal Part I

Resorting nature of Years and year's,
Moving miles and miles,
Life is just a bit of moments filled with sheer joy as I share it with You, my lovely Adam.
You won't believe, Its even been more better accompanying with You.
How long shall I wait an eternity?
How long must I resist myself loving you?
As I Wana express, My love which will never fade for You!

Melancholic thistles cheering in its ain way with your manifesting reflection.
Rosing my heart , raising the plum of my cheeks,
Wana stay together in unison, Nestling the two empty sweet hearts.
How long shall I wait an eternity?
How long must I resist myself loving you?
As in Every turn of life, My love will never fade for You!

Amongst the Wintergreen hazy bush,
In the Glass of grass, O'my ornamenting daisy joe,
You are the blushing  flower of an hour,  emboldening absolutely everyday in the morning sunrise!
How long shall I wait an eternity?
How long must I resist myself loving you? 
As You are filling the vibrant colours in the void space of my heart, My love will never fade for You!

Near the coral island, The sand castle will be always lighted forever,
With the whispering winds and the dancing souls,
Roaming around the dark evening blues,
Lying on the sea bed, Twilightedly glowing like the silver moon surrounding with the stars,
How long shall I wait an eternity?
How long must I resist myself loving you?
As I'm blessed with a magnificence of heavenly glory,My love will never fade for You!

Removing the interstellar space,  
By assembling the two innocent epitomes,
My love shall be immortal,
With the feast of love, signing the promising bond,
Gathering the meal of goodwill, showering on the sprouted buds by God, 
How long shall I wait an eternity?
How long must I resist myself loving you?
As You are uplifting me musically at different intersperse, My love will never fade for You!

Marquee is been always blinked  by your name making a contract with the pitches of my heart lifetime.
Aisle of my heart's wheel, energetically  spinned with your intact spokes,
Mounting the sparks of love,
How long shall I wait an eternity?
How long must I resist myself loving you? 
As my Life is a beautiful journey being together, My love will never fade for You!
© Maddy Sp  Create an image from this poem.


Her Kiss

The fire glows throughout southern hill
The pulse of one’s soul one can feel
The castle is formed by one’s will
It is a glorious structure and marvel of engineering ornamenting the hill

The knights walk upon the castle wall
As stone winds unveil it whole
One feels joy in the soul
Because ones’ destiny is under his own control

Opposite of none existence reviles edge of abyss
This is
The glory of absolute bliss
This is the feel of her kiss

Sunday Saga

Seven A.M., feet on the floor, pajamas in-car 
for a favorite drive-through fast-food treat?  No, 
it's the coffeepot, and turn on the broiler, less of 
a spoiler, but kudos in Heaven. Breakfast's in the works,
she'll reserve the perks, (pardon the pun,) for when Mass
is over. For now, the egg fries, but the 'frigo' door spies 
no cheese for the muffin, What? no fatted calf? 
and even worse, no Half and Half.  It brings back
the chorus in "How to Succeed in Business," the lament 
of the scent of No Coffee, NO COFFEE! But memory
reminds of a Champs Elysees' Ave., where an American 
institution gave restitution to exiles like her in an 
elevator ride under upscale retail, its costly fashions 
to Golden Arches beneath Paris town, destination 
a Mickey D's you can't imagine: rows of televisions 
ornamenting each wall, an Egg McMuffin perk
in easy reach, and a coffee bar, its center station 
a Gallic invention for the hurried intentions 
of blase' Parisians on their way to work.
 
.
© Nola Perez  Create an image from this poem.

Pyramid of Feathered Serpent

Six layered pyramid build in talud tablero style 
But in my pyramid the feathered serpent can’t help but smile
His awesome visage is ornamenting every tile 
But in my pyramid as he gazes towards endless sky he is gentile

A pterosaur Quetzalcoatl was called in Aztec God’s name
And an amazing flying creature it was I have to exclaim
But just the same
There is something that better fits this name

Pterosaur could feel precise wind vibration
This thing can feel the flux of imagination
Flux like wind is sensed by this creation
And of hope it is beacon

It also nourishes the flux of self connected destiny
And is above, beyond fundamental infinity
And in that lies its majesty
That largest numbers are turned into simplicity

The pyramid stands tall whole
Stone wind is its soul
As the gaze of the serpent looks on while the endless horizon will roll
The divine stone wind in the Quetzalcoatl mesmerizes soul as it fulfills its role

Premium Member Feather

tickling my soft sensitive skin
sounds like violin
into my soul
can feel it all

glitters and paint full bathed
suffice one's need
can’t spurn the air
adorn and blare

drums and tambourines start to play
they lovely sway
dance in rhythm
highlight the theme



Oct. 25,2012




Note:
The feathers ornamenting the street parade/paraders especially the ones decorated on hats of musicians and others who entertains. So lovely they are in the sight of all spectators!
© Len Gasun  Create an image from this poem.

Song of Forest Echoes

They say April love is for the very young
This is the time that new flowers to life have sprung
When smell of spring gives air to the lung
And when colorful melody birds have sung

The cherry tree blooms white and scarlet
The elder bush delightful violet
The forest that was once silent
Is vibrant from golden sunrise to night color of velvet

In the forest there is small lake that has a special role
It reflects true visage of person’s soul
Above it the tree has mesmerizing flowers ornamenting it like a stole
On the tree there is nightingale singing song of divine soul

The song is beautiful but hard to understand
It brings to mind taste of honey and smell of moorland
The nightingale will sing his choirs as on the branch it will stand
The song has a way of people’s dreams to expand 

Maybe the song sung by nightingale standing at the ledge
Represents consciousness’ other edge
Ultimate consciousness with ultimate having no reference point to continuities’ expanding edge
Only to its own written in stone definition which to follow the song will pledge

How the Wood Storks Broke My Heart

Afternoon, late March, delivering promise 
of respite from errands, long lines at the post office, 
queues of cars at red lights, what, if anything, is in
the offing for supper.  A glass of wine is nice, will soften
the mind's noisy dissertation, news of unrest in 
distant lands, world hunger, and men on South Africa's
Wild Coast who believe raping small girls will cure 
their AIDS.  For respite, I turn to the wood storks 
and two world-class pines, sending perfect drifts of straw 
and symmetrical cones into the protective lake-growth 
ornamenting edges with a scrim of airy viridian: birth-
right of sea birds needing evening asylum.  Now, 
there's an unwanted invasion of enormous jaws, taking
no prisoners on a battlefield of buzz saws. Machetes 
fell pines, artless shrubs and perfect palmettos that greedy 
landscapers treasure to decorate the yard-scapes of 
costly homes.  Development, New Construction?  Words-- 
glamorizing rape of wetlands. The birds are flying out, 
now, from across our lake, where once in heart-
stopping numbers, they bivouacked against the arrival 
of night. This day, this hour, they take wing, bird 
by bird in a ghostly exodus, taking their "Reflection 
of nearly all light from all visible wave links," whiter 
than masses of lilies on an Easter morning.  O, 
lost blessing, these birds, taking healing 
and our hearts in their exodus.
© Nola Perez  Create an image from this poem.

Tunnel At the End of the Light

Hills endlessly roll
Nostalgia enters the soul
The towering oaks cast shadow
Upon a beautiful meadow

The marsh marigold’s smell
Excites the senses as well
Water springs from the well
Old oak has a story to tell

The sharp rocks separate land from the sea
Man wonders about his destiny
He wishes to be free
But all in front of him is horizon’s infinity

The sunset is beautiful
Orange violet gold
The spirit is now full
As the night will unfold

The silver blue moon
Shines upon the lagoon
The eerie mist covers the world
Depth of the night now man will behold

But in pitch blankness there is light
That is visible in the night
It is the sleeping eye
Now open ornamenting the sky

Next to it another eye
And another eye
As one looks at the sky
They form vortex the way they lay 

Vortex is gate way to immortality
Only if true meaning comes with it soul can be free
A vortex is immortality
But this is the vortex and ultimate meaning will set me free

Premium Member Snowman - a Didactic Cinquain

Snowman - A Didactic Cinquain

Snowman
Large, abominable
Sledding, happening, ornamenting
Sometimes I'd dream about snowballing
Possession

2/3/23
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2023©

Willows 2

Willows whisper gratitude, 
drooping branches sway, 
they promise summers of serenity 
and winters of decay.

Images of grace, gently shivering 
in rains of sweet intent, 
they burgeon like a testament 
fulfilled and immanent.

Softly ornamenting 
with their sprawls of elegance, 
they pose like seasoned lovers 
who have earned their permanence.

Sprightly dancing limbs of fancy, 
mighty yet demure, 
they prophesy endurance 
for those untested and unsure.

Get a Premium Membership
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a Premium Membership.
Book: Diverse Voices: The Poetry of Human Rights and the Pursuit of Peace