Best Outlast Poems


Premium Member That Dawn, a Goddess Found Me: Collaboration With Robert Lindley

An early morn mist that fadeth away
revealeth the goddess that stole this heart.
In radiance, her hair shone as blazing gold
soft-born winds welcomed her that fine day.

Her approach held me silent and steadfast
earth and sky both envied her elegance.
Nothing on earth could her power dispel
nothing could her love's depth ever outlast.

Transfixed, my frozen legs refused to act
for her magnificent beauty brought me fear.
Fear of not knowing why at me she gazed
I wished my lustful thoughts, I could retract.

O' Blessed day, when I saw that loving smile,
her warmth cast forth to calm this lonely soul.
With heart relieved and soul stripped bare,
I saw love's truth, in it was no human guile.

Then, she took my trembling hand and said
words that will forever burn in this glad heart,
"I chose you, for thy spirit needs true love's gift
and with it comes relief from all thou dost dread." 

She led me to paradise through beacons of gold.
Emerald eyes sparkling, brighter than the sun.
I watched as mischief grew in the vixen's orbs.
She woke this heart that long ago had grown cold.

Alas,  she spoke to me in a gentle lilting voice,
sweet symphonies she crooned in my willing ear.
Beyond the realm of all opulent Utopian dreams
my spirit rose aloft with her.  In love, we rejoice.

Up to the stars then to the dark side of the moon.
Ere long we rested where no eyes could intrude
upon tender kisses she bequeathed to my lips.
My lovely goddess surrendered to me in a swoon.

O' what depth of passion between us doth lie.
Breath mingled with breath until the sun rose.
Within my arms she stirred, but for a moment
then snuggled closer with a soft angelic sigh.

She had chosen me to love in that early morn mist.
From dawn to dawn she endowed her glorious gift;
the gift of love, 'twas like no other I had ever known.
My golden haired goddess, lips longing to be kissed.


~  ~  ~  ~  ~  ~  ~  ~  ~  ~  ~  ~  ~  ~  ~  ~  ~  ~  ~  ~
Written with admiration for a talented poet...Robert Lindley. 
Robert, thank you for the journey among the brightest stars.
© Lin Lane  Create an image from this poem.
Categories: outlast, fantasy, love,
Form: Romanticism

Notes of Life

"In my fragile little ship, I sail, sail
In the tempestuous sea of life
Dodging life's pressures, to doldrums outlast"~ by poet

Breathing in and out the notes of life, 
from first cry to last sigh, you sing
you sing.... unbeknownst
unbeknownst to you as to
what tunes and notes of life
you will be singing.. 

but you keep singing... taking cues
taking cues from the
rhythm of the twirl of time. 

As you warble to the ticking of time
sometimes... 
a melody is created 
and the moment becomes lovely -
when your hum is harmonious to
the rhythm, tempo, and dynamics of life. 

Listening to that melody - so sweet, 
buds of love and peace bloom straightaway
in vibrant colours
to savour and celebrate 
the beautiful moment:
a moment as beautiful 
as the sweet smile of a child
and as peaceful as the 
stillness of a meditation hall. 

At times, your voice cracks 
you sing outside the range
hitting the wrong note... 

and.........oh........ 
you slip down the stairs
the last step extending down to
the hassles and hard times of life... 

like a banana peel
in an already slippery road, 
like a dust in the eye
that blurs your vision, 
like that of a Wordle game
that leaves you totally clueless. 

Such wrong notes
in your song of life
leave you in dismay

like a torn page in a book:

you get dejected, dispirited, and disheartened

and a confused state of mind follows. 

But you know you should not stop
you need to ignore the wrong note you struck

not a wince, blink or a pause.. 

you have to just move

on and on... 

and get your mojo back
to continue carolling
the rest of your notes of life
in accordance to the 
rhythm of time...

Date: 02/24/2022
'F' form - Free verse - New - Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Constance La France
Theme Chosen: Life
First Place

Poem Of The Day on 02/24/2022
Categories: outlast, life,
Form: Free verse

Winter Proposal

With my soul at peace and my thoughts at rest,
standing in this winter wilderness,
I whisper words of heartfelt bliss.

Come with me and walk this path.
Together we tread against the freeze,
and find the warmth of tender grasp.

My devoted being shall forever be,
a place of strength against chilled winds,
a brilliant light only you have seen.

Our lives have met in this quiet space.
Let sky meet land and rivers merge.
Forever, harmony I long to taste.

We have summoned light from darkest days.
Heat returns to melt still ice.
Each day length now brings stronger rays.

The deepest snows cannot hide the facts.
Beneath these layers life holds fast.
Newfound joys spring from bleakest past.

Let's rebuild life from broken dreams,
Where life restarts with each new spring,
the snows will melt to feed fresh streams.

Like this land, my passion runs free.
Walls have come down with earnest words.
My unblinded eyes now see.

I ask for your hand without ounce of gold,
or shiny stones dug from filthy earth.
My eternal love cannot be bought or sold.

Under peaks reborn of volcanic scars,
In night's serene and  starkest silence,
I pledge love to outlast the multitude of stars.

Solitude I turn from on this ride.
Today and tomorrow let's walk in stride.
Promise to be my utopian bride.
© Wayne Hill  Create an image from this poem.
Categories: outlast, marriage, romance, snow, winter,
Form: Free verse

Book: Radiant Verses: A Journey Through Inspiring Poetry


Premium Member Heat Source Hunger

Wonder not
if my thoughts are thrilled and twisted
daily and deeply by the albums of your ways,
I succumb severely to the impulse of imminent interplay
so dumb with joy, grateful for the fusion of our fevers,
I've never let you leave my mind,
you haven't finished eating your portion of my heart,
there is so much more for you, still in my chest, on my eyes,

I am your rare happiness,
that bare beast of a woman's best distress,
trigger your storm sirens with a single drop of Goodbye,
serve you with the most sensational sadness,
replenish your youth with an admiration that won't die,
knowing that I am not a makeshift man, nor a loyalty within a lie,
that I'll punish your pulse with peppered pleasure
because I can, because I must,
pull your hair just to hear those breaths beg for big flares,
treat the smooth and sweet lascerations of love's lament
butterfly cut into the surface of a girl's search for sincerity,
we get intoxicated on performance of personality,
buzzed beautifully from believing in the addiction of adoration's affliction,

We know we can handle one another's hurt
as warriors bleed hard because they sell themselves the sacrafice,
that we can process history with humor by breaking the shame of blame,
synthesize epiphany with sympathy to nourish symphonies of Divinity
we realize that intensity is the regal implement of our tournament, 

I like it when you tell me the tough truths,
that you want to be loved for more than one reason,
that being respected in segments isn't enough,
that he will never be me,
that words can outlast the disappointment of distance,
that the world overwhelms you when you most expect,
that sometimes you'd rather be a heart attack
before being a pretty song or a favorite memory,
I understand your need for absolute affection, absolute attention,
lets allow our love to be confusing, dazzling, on the verge of villainy, 
it isn't steady as a sleeping heart beat
or ready for celebration like a " gee wiz " graduation,
it is our Love, and its undefinably volatile and lovely,

Your cosmos gives a question that feeds one answer,
that love is ours, safe in the arms of Armageddon, 
I remember the ember of our future
spazing on the hearth of fresh earth,
don't ever miss me Babe, just keep lovin me -

J.A.B.
Categories: outlast, love,
Form: Ballad

Premium Member Art and Ownership

People buy pictures
They have a notion
That they are owners
But actually
The pictures own them. 
They will outlive
Or outlast them
They are only
Custodians.
They purchase
Pyramid,
Art will live.
And they...
Pharaohs:
Dead.

        +++++++++
Date 2-28-14
Motif : Epic
Dr. Ram Mehta
First Place win
Contest: Impress Me with short poems II by Giorgio
Categories: outlast, art,
Form: Diminished Hexaverse

Premium Member On Turning Fifty

A five and a zero.
Numbers.
The big one creeping up,
Five...
Four three two one!
The countdown has begun
The race is on.
Big one creeping up so fast
I can hear the crack of the gun.
The big five... Oh
My mother didn't make it past.
I've been told that that's your big one,
Your own ceiling of glass;
That it creeps into your psyche,
Your parents to outlast.
I've been working for a while
To quit smoking before forty,
Success five years too late.
Five to go, the age that she was shortly.
Fifteen years six months eight days between us
Is as close as we ever got.
I don't need closer now,
I have a second shot;
I almost died with no idea what hit me,
A tragic but not sad how.
So to me it does occur
To slowly drown as your lungs fill
Is to fill a fate 
I would much rather defer.

17.04.08

For On Turning Fifty Contest
Categories: outlast, age, cancer, me, mother,
Form: Free verse


Timeless Cave

Timeless Cave

Hidden deep out of time on a limestone cliff
its entrance for the ages concealed
paw prints of cave bears on soft clay ground
and smoke-stained walls it harbored

but deeper, still deeper, farther in time
earth’s ancient origins still beckon
for an artist his palm prints left and man’s    
greatest testament of eras bygone

panthers and cave lions on smoothed surfaces
lost voices from humanity’s past 
he painted in the torches light from us closing 
the distance and they all outlast

on cave walls, hyenas, and horses in flight 
immortalized remains vibrant echoes 
ringing through the millenniums 
a masterpiece there lies
in the midst of stalactites and stalagmites,
man’s original Sistine Chapel still rests in peace.
Categories: outlast, art, time,
Form: Free verse

Premium Member The Others

Not friend of man or beast, or kind to any soul, 
not even their own. 
Perhaps compassion deserted them, along with reason
leaving not even an even-tongue..
in a dangerous clouded head.

Or maybe found under a curse from a long ago wrong., 
cast at birth or last dawn' cropping season, ill thoughts
impure to many.
Maniacal in gaze. Sees.. but doesn't see,
no feeling left..
                      if ever there was any. 

When encountering something perceived to be weaker,
don't respond the way most would. 
As I write this, feel so sorry.. 
for all smaller creatures in wrenching hands..
crushed without a twitch of remorse.

Talk in whispers, don't wake their ire..
you can't outrun or outlast them.. 
not in words, or mannerisms, no chance.
  
Don't cross them, or fall hard in love.. 
they're already jealous., quick to anger, 
always seething, like a kettle ready to boil.
One with nothing left to lose.

You are a player in an unfamiliar game..
tilted off balance of normal,
just a prize for them, all the same. 

It's easier to be anyone else than the others.
Standing out in a cold dark night looking..
at the warmth that true companionship brings.
Life's best to live, and to give, though sure and not sure,
were it your neck so close to break.  

Be the soul of leniency and mercy.,
send prayers, show kindness, and in kindness judge..   
if you must.

Though never invest, or feel too sorry..,
nor trust what you hold dear..,  
and never turn your back on 
the others.   

~~~~~~~~ Dedicated to Stephen King ~~~~~~~~
Categories: outlast, anger, birth, conflict, corruption,
Form: Verse

Premium Member The Last Acorn

I shiver beneath a frozen sky of milky gray and white  
and like a little rabbit whos barely grown into his coat 
I linger in the forest bristling like a dry piece of wood 

I was detached from my father like a youngling discomfit
I come from a prideful bush of green but its not who I am  
settling down under, on a large tuft of mulch     

I am the last living acorn settled no longer in the air     
but when Autumn sings her song of mellifluous swell 
I seem to outlast every flower of her time    

Life is but a series of spurts, growths, windy dances 
let it be said, " the apple doesn't fall far from the tree" 
but neither does the acorn as far as the eye can see 

I shiver beneath a frozen sky of milky gray and white  
I'm not a blade of grass, nor an eagle,  nor an elk 
I am an acorn with a little french beret, …

April 17, 2020
Categories: outlast, analogy,
Form: Personification

Revere the Founding Fathers, Part Ii

...And Alexander Hamilton,
though know for controversy,
served alongside Washington
in the war to make us free.
Helped build up our new armed forces,
set the stage for our economics,
the prosperity we still enjoy,
he had a lot to do with it.
The man stood against slavery
when many just chose to ignore
the problem as unsolvable,
unwilling to seize something more.
He rose up from bastardry
to shape a nation not formed yet,
I think we should remember more
then the sad method of his death.

Then there is His Excellency,
George Washington earned that in full,
the only American soul
who any dare call by that title.
Stuck with an untrained army,
often outnumbered and outclassed,
he wouldn’t fight by Europe’s rules,
and the British he would outlast.
Ill-supplied and often hungry,
he kept the militas going,
and though they would have made him King
he gave it up voluntarily!
Taught us how to be a president,
was not a known thing in those days,
then even left that so he could farm,
the depths of his honor amaze…

Last is the one who didn’t arrive
until three generations later,
Lincoln, the man who finished the job,
that Great Emancipator.
Some would say he wasn’t a founder,
but I must include him within,
the nation we know traces right back
to the great deed done by him.
An ordinary politician
in a nation torn all apart,
forced to grow into a hero,
enough to test any man’s heart.
Forced to fight a murderous war
admist voices calling out for peace,
knowing defeat meant more chaos,
and millions left in slavery…

Nowadays voices spurn these men,
choosing to recall only mistakes,
forgetting that their bold ideas
are what have made this country great.
Teachers prattle on like socialists,
killers of one hundred million souls,
all of our mistakes pale next to that,
it’s a direction none should go.
But the wisdom of the founders
transcends the confines of their day,
they took on the challenge of freedom,
that’s a challenge that don’t go away.
If we take the time to heed them
then we can continue on thriving,
we should revere the founding fathers,
in truth we owe them everything.
Categories: outlast, america, appreciation, freedom, history,
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Solitude In Academia

Homer, Aristotle, Hobbes, Locke, Goethe, and Crane;
Chaucer, Shakespeare, Dickens, Tolstoy, Whitman, and Twain;
Whose imagination and toil helped to unfold
Stories, philosophies, and lessons to be told.

The inquisitive student absorbed in his books,
Contemplating and learning while everyone looks
At him with judgmental glances, as if to say,
“Strange seeing him indoors even on this fine day.”

But to him, the weather is of little concern
While he is satisfying his deep thirst to learn.
Taken in by tales of peasants, lovers, and knights,
And those waxing on people’s and government’s rights.

Just then, he feels a chilly draft, but no matter,
As he tugs at his worn jacket collar’s tatter.
Off in the distance, he hears children playing games,
But no match for his fables with fanciful names.

Lost in some fiction, he really can’t help himself,
He thirstily reads his way across his bookshelf.
Hungry – but his knowledge appetite can outlast,
He ignores stomach growls as the lunch hour has passed.

The reader pores on in utter fascination,
As if in a trance, but not caused by libation.
Searching, grasping, he is mentally enraptured,
With meanings bold to subtle all being captured.

In deep translation of the scenes, plots, and faces
Scribed in earlier times and in other places.
He can wait for frolic, frills and things of that kind.
For now, the scholar will sit and enrich his mind.


2/26/17
Categories: outlast, books, deep, happiness, inspiration,
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member The Inclination of Glass Cannons

Shuttling beyond the lay
Of the land that may
End at the water,
Splash and fish, tide and otter.

War birds knocking stars from Heaven,
Wolf packs moving, six or seven
Or eight, the modern metabolic rate,
Society redeems the weight of hate.

Reversions to no merry mean,
We wash to make the world unclean,
We wash to upraise our station,
We wash to conclude causation.

Taking my place within the past,
An epic form of gratification,
I won't outlast, the die is cast,
So let's get on with vilification.

Bright sunny days, untrammeled ways or
Other poets' words so light,
Yet I shift and stray, I make the play for
The coming armies of the night.
Categories: outlast, dark, future, humanity,
Form: Quatrain

Glory In Heaven

To heaven we are called,
                   his glory for us all.

The meeting in the air,
                   to stand before his chair.

So many of us are shown,
                   the greatness of his throne.

We will praise our loving lord,
                   forever in him we are restored.

Before the sea of glass,
                   his overcomers did outlast.

We see our savior crowned,
                   the trump of God to sound.

From the midst of us he came,
                   the lamb of God was slain.

To take the book thereof,
                   from his fathers hand with love.

So glorious for us to be,
                   his kingdom forever is ours to see.
Categories: outlast, faith, religiongod, god,
Form: Free verse

Redundancy

6/12/20


What time is it?  It's time to get some money

Think harder, Stop being a dummy

Beating a dead horse, only the first time it was funny

With me, don't try to get all chummy


At one point, my life was crummy

Now, I'm turning it around, working on recovery


Whether cloudy, snowy, windy or sunny


Feeling like I got more animals than human buddies

My cup is always muddy

I don't like my eggs too runny

I'm into you girl, you're sweeter than honey

Is it all going to end slowly or abruptly?

For many, certain subjects are touchy


To put it bluntly

I desire a woman that will love me

But how can I, if I'm a weed and alcohol junkie


At times I've been fortunate or unlucky

In a world, that can be beautiful yet also ugly


I'm lonely, I'd like some company

Too bad, I really thought she was the one for me


Feeling strangely different, suddenly
In the end, I aim to come out triumphantly
I refuse to live a life of redundancy

 

People just love to rant
And leave their stamp

I get relief from a plant
To make up for all the love I lack
The end result, could be lungs that are black


I consider myself a decent chap
Unlike all these other cats
Many of which are whack

Individuals still talking crap
Just about everything they say is cap


In a place so vast
This life moves fast
Far too long, I felt like an outcast
And was downcast
Now I plan to outlast



Resources were scant
On terrain at a slant


My clothes and shoes got damp
So I set up camp
Before I'd need a lamp

I weathered storms like a champ

Never thought that " I can't"
Eventually packed up and headed back
With the help of a map
It was a wrap

Folks often vent
About how things went
Whether it turned out good or took a left

All these presidents
Continually spent
You'd think it was for some event

Maybe if I really meant
To put forth one hundred percent
I'd reach the furthest extent
As things augment
And orient
Which is the overall intent


By: Dalton Ogletree
Categories: outlast, dark, deep, poetry, rap,
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member Floral Expanse

Floral expanse




Roses in vivid colours that smiled in glamour,
Red blood to be garlanded at valour,

White lilies bunching hearty and serene,
Catching lovers' fancy to the extreme,

Lavenders at the crest of mountains,
Challenging beauties of the terrains,

Merrigolds shining bright with sunrise,
Worshipping aroma to no surprise,

Dahlia, orange and yellow poppies dance,
Oleander with their pink flowers put us in stance,

Irises swayed taller on their stalks,
Bougainville like trumpets' melody outlast,

Bluebells borrowed colour from the sky,
Yellow dandelions woke up in golden bright light,

Tulips were as bright as showers,
Their beds flamed like throbbing rings of fire,

Forming shadows were rows of white flowers,
On azure coloured ground like trails of shooting stars,

Tiny wildflowers illuminated the grass,
Like jewels in the dust to nature's sarcast !










Written November 27th, 2014
For contest 'Encounter with flowers' by Anthony Slausen

Awarded HM

Entered into contest "Theme #2- Flowers- Old poems" by SKAT A
Awarded 9th place win
Categories: outlast, beauty, flower, nature,
Form: Couplet
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