Best Palace Poems
I am the
cascading radiance,
between apricot
glows of gloaming,
when mauve mists shift,
mirroring sage seas of love,
I look beyond silvery skies
whilst selfless stars sprinkle,
sizzling streaks
of sunflower sparkles~
upon wrinkled
waves of weariness.
it is in sangria silence, I see
seraphic silhouette of
the mauve moon~
incarnate elysian empires,
where rosemary rivers
flow in righteous rhythm,
awakening stainless
lotus rituals,
soaring amidst the
ardent ambience
of butterfly bliss.
now my heart twirls
to riveting themes,
captivated by the
charismatic credence
of your charming finesse~
swirling beneath
purple paper balloons,
ornamented with
pristine pansies,
to weave fuchsia faith
with
dahlia dreams.
yet, sometimes
I question
the eclectic light,
lulling my aching soul,
would life be a
pensive pilgrim
without your
angelic wings?
what if I had never found
the sanctified sanctuary,
shielded with
golden gates
adorned in
citrine-pearl calligraphies..
would I then
still be drowning,
alone, engulfed in fears?
for I’ve found
silent scriptures of serenity
through carmine carvings
on the mystical walls
in your poetic palace,
there love is the
astral language
of crooning constellations,
guiding poignant peonies
to a holistic sphere
of artistic healing.
so tonight, I’ll unlock
cosmic windows to
the root chakra,
where you are the
enlightened king,
and your
altruistic anthem,
rings musically
like soothing
singing bowls,
echoing forgiving heartbeats,
and I, will remain faithfully
engrossed eternally,
like petals blossoming
within your gardenia grace.
Poetically poised on a dainty hill
Overlooking ever blue seas
Eagerly awaiting this surreal ILLUSION
Turrets made of imaginative calligraphy
Ruins that echo CREATIVITY
Yearning to belong in this poetic home
Paddle your toes in the moat of letters
Allowing the INFUSION of words to make a sentence
Listen to beautiful melodic lyrics in the great hall
Attic of ancient and famous sonnets ghostly sing
Carrying you EVENTUALLY to high emotional state
Ending up, it's INEVITABLE that you live forever on the dainty hill
By Emma Buckeridge
For contest "Poetry Palace"
2nd place win
If you have a song in your hear, sing it.
If you have a peace of the truth, share it.
If you like a Poet's work, by God, tell them!
If you are green with envy, learn humility
and be still.
If you want to punish another for theirsuccess,
ask for God's mercy!
If you think you are the best poet here,
get over it!
We all express ourselves differently, so do
celebrate all, so gratefully.
Let all poetic diversity ring!
May loving kindness be our sparkling jewel,
with rainbow colored bling.
Panagiota Romios
September 27, 2019
P oetry Soup is like a Poetry Palace to me
O rnamented with poems and poets with CREATIVITY,
E veryone bringing INFUSION of literary beauty to it
T ouching the poetic hearts of other poets
R esulting in the INEVITABLE addiction to the soup
Y oung to old everybody thus getting attracted.
P oetry Soup is a sacred place like a temple,church or mosque
A nd nobody should have any ILLUSION about it,
L et us all try together and make it a haven
A haven for all those who loves poetry by heart
C aring to make the palace even beautiful.
E VENTUALLY the palace will be there but not we.
© 2011 kashinath karmakar (17th May 2011)
==================================
Placement: 2nd; (May 2011)
By:kashinath karmakar
Contest:Poetry Palace
Sponsor:Linda-Marie The Sweetheart
A Palace of Aloneness.
This palace of aloneness is not my home.
It's bricks know only the time of run-off bygones.
Transition past it's thousand entrances
Impaired with creeping ivy
Into it's stately communion hall
For the dead and the living you'll end up.
Look out it's eyes towards blurred views
Draped in so longs never to be clearly revealed.
Gawk at it's floor to ceiling shelves infinitely crowded
With ô so decidedly swollen hearts
Captive inside tightly sealed jars.
To dust them is not my task.
Here, cabinets are filled with illogical medicines
For conditions without extensional cures.
A repository for good and bad intentions.
You'll know as soon as you feel it
That you are there.
I'll take no residence in this palace
On the dark side of it's interference.
Secure no long or short term stay in it.
This settlement has no neighbors
To cheerily comfort with a smile.
No happiness locker, no blowing kisses.
No escape if you accept lodging here.
Move on, let weighty doors close before you
That have no real escape.
About-face before it's dark shadow becomes you.
Recapture only evidence that matters.
There is no recouping backwards.
Offer up your redress to tomorrow today.
Flee past this palace of forlornness.
Avoid it's thorns upon your ankles.
Clutch your heart from head to toe.
Keep your future safe to ascent again.
Stay out and away look up to heavens above
Even now they are clouded with silver linings.
welcome
to my inner palace
built in
sturdy passion
beautiful love
colorful garden
with fragrant flowers
to greet you
with my sweetest smile
strong pillars
of verses and
rhythms
created a temple of love
peaceful atmosphere
in comfortable love
Though noiseless
however
your whisphers
reached the ears of my souls
in a softest candle light dinner
patiently waiting
for your present
to enjoy your laughters
and stories
to drink
all sweet lovely tears patter
i give you
my special key called love
to welcome you
in my inner palace
~ (c) Sukmawati komala ~
07March 2013
In alcove of the palace on that night
I felt the rush of pleasure and delight
He pressed me to the wall and forced a kiss
I nearly fainted as I tasted bliss
The dark and handsome Prince of kingdom fair
He ran his fingers through my raven hair
And then he burned my mouth with hungry lips
I felt the clutch of hands upon my hips
I could not breath, all thought had taken flight
He was of royal blood and noble height
Pervading every dream, he’d ravished me
And now each longing wish had come to be
He whispered in my ear, “I’ll make you Queen!
Though servant now you are, your slave I’ve been
I’ve wanted you from moment you walked by
You fill my life, oh darling of my eye!"
And then he planted kiss on heaving breast
His lips in need to be my bosom guest
He pulled back then and looked into my eyes
“The man who touches you, THAT man, he DIES!
“No one will taste your nectar, none but I
I’ll speak to Sultan; rules will change, I’ll try
To take as wife a slave of common birth
For there is none as fair upon this earth.”
He crushed me to himself and walked away
I waited for my Prince both night and day
A summon came to speak to Sultan then
“My son’s to wed, I’ll tell you where and when.
I found for him a princess fair and bright
Her skin is soft and supple, lily white
She is my brother’s girl, his next of kin
Forget him dear, his love for you is sin.”
I wept that night as I walked to my door
Constrained to take my life, the poison pour
When soon my ears did hear the wondrous sound
Of steed in haste, his hoofs pounding the ground
He came to me and begged me to forgive
My love he needed if he were to live
He laid me on my bed and did implore
“I have your soul, but now I beg for more.”
By candle light the Prince made love to me
I sighed, I cried, I died, he set me free!
“Arise my love, let’s leave this cursed place
You’re now my wife, oh girl of angel face.”
To kingdom fair, we bade a last farewell
My joy and rapture none but heart can tell
We lived a life of love and sweet repose
He was MY Prince and I his Passion Rose.
Eileen Manassian
I pray for a palace of dreams and memories
With stones and pillars of mementos
And high crystal ceilings that glow with my dreams.
Halls filled with melancholy melodies—
Each bittersweet note echoing the hopes, fears
And tears of all my past years and epochs.
I wish to wear regalia woven with nostalgia,
So I may dance with familiar shadows, dining with them
On pleasing delicacies of olden days while waited upon by
Mere thoughts.
I yearn for stately windows viewing wondrous groves
That rustle with all that which could have been, but did not—
And colossal galleries of art that mirrors my memories,
So I may live them again, but only as a perfect dream.
Boundless creations
Palace created for you…
Poetic dreamer
Peek, if you dare…inside my Palace of CREATIVITY
Observe my drafty walls, and rhyming dungeons ^^
Enter, my friends, with no delusions! ^^
There are marbled halls of mass confusion…
Regarding your ILLUSION, of metaphoric INFUSIONs,…
Your opinions may falter, upon the alter, compared to other verses ^^
^^
Poetic attempts, and past regrets, are ghostly curses
And with INEVITABLE blunders, they rattle off meter, the echos could haunt you!
Lest you dare, just beware, dear readers…. WATCH YOUR STEP! ^^
As your guide, I’ll confide….people have died!
'Cause this Poetry Palace, has bats in the belfry! (As everyone knows)…
EVENTUALLY, this palace place should be foreclosed!
For Linda Marie’s Contest “Poetry Palace”
By Carrie Richards
P lease come in, this poetic palace is not an ILLUSION,
O rdinarily I have many visitors throughout the year.
E VENTUALLY all guests find it quite comfortable, where they can come
T o produce large amounts of poetic CREATIVITY and
R elish the INFUSION of a serene atmosphere and fellowship that
Y ields a great deal, when the heart and mind generate.
P erhaps you would like some refreshments of sort, maybe
A n ice cold glass of sweet tea or blueberry bagel.
L et your body and mind relax to the soft music of nature on the terrace,
A llowing thought to transfer an INEVITABLE calmness throughout,
C reating an artistic masterpiece of phrases and
E verlasting treasures.
Copyright © 2011 By Caryl S. Muzzey
Second Place Winner ~ "POETRY PALACE” Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Linda-Marie The Sweetheart of P.S.
June 13, 2011
The Queen's Palace of ancient times
has been renewed with christian rhymes;
And for the glory of new days,
Let's sing and shout as the Queen prays.
They named you Rova: it means to me
that every time I look at you,
my heart will sing a melody
that sings along with their hearts too!
Your name, it means to all of us,
a place where blood filled sacred trees;
a fortress where they still discuss
in memory of Memories!
My Queen's Palace, they named you so
to translate you in others' tongues;
to give your looks a brand new glow
and welcome books with grand new songs:
About new fights,
About new rights;
About the stakes...
About mistakes...
About a warmer place to go.
Then, queens and kings of ancient times,
revealed anew from the furnace
of savagely translated rhymes,
shall reconquer the Queen's Palace.
And lead new fights...
Restore old rights...
And take the stake
for no mistake,
And find a warmer place to go.
There Peace will be
under The Tree
of Justice
reigning
by the Law
of God on high.
In place,simple a-
Palace!
PALACE OF POSSIBILITIES
In the Palace of Possibilities, there are countless rooms.
While young, we anticipate their exploration
not recognizing the potential peril inherent in all.
We keep the doors open and with one foot inside
look around. What treasures will be found?
We enter with abandonment excited by schemes
and dreams that invade our very souls.
The door locks but somewhere hidden
a key exists within this sacred space.
As time progresses we become captive
to its charms and accept complacency.
And in our solitude of thought,
we stop looking.
Underneath the shadow of the door, a light shines
beckoning us to explore once more. Why, we ask,
trade one known for something unknown?
Life settles in and impulsive youth transfigures with age.
To later rage against the race with time.
C.A.K. 8-15-2012
THE CRYSTAL PALACE
The gods awoke, as they occasionally do,
and found Fred Cross in multitudes, alone.
Unconsciously aware of their unblamed fault,
they dreamed for him an appropriate abode,
a crystal palace flawed through and through
with veins of earthy, dark hued stone.
Sequestered by battlements of coldfiery ice,
concealed, it towered over existence below.
Fred Cross, through mirrored portals viewed
the warm chill of life from his lofty abode,
and despairingly content he quite often died
exploring the chambers of his intricate home.
By midnight's blaze through vacant corridors
he paced, stumbling on cobwebbed unrealities,
and contemplated empty passages scrawled
in volumes shelved in wormwood libraries.
To bed he went at darkened dawn, tired by lore
read studiously of man's strong willed frailties.
On sunset mornings he slipped boldly outside
to sense the roses he could not smell, to bare
his soul to one who cared. But alas, he could
not find a single one of all those there
that knew him well enough to share. He cried
and fled to his castle gate, hopelessly secure.
The gods returned to their perpetual rest.
Fred Cross lived forever in a palace of death.