Best Paloma Poems


Premium Member La Paloma

The splayed light of an obliging red sunset
lays upon the darkening meadow
of windswept grass
Slow-moving fingers in a visible dance 
wrap in quiet space
when moonlight silhouettes our hands as they bond

A falling star etches the night sky
burning its canvas like a struck match
vanishing as quickly as it came

The rush of life abates to a small distance
so we can free ourselves from outgrown nests
to float like doves on tender breezes
until we can fly when love is found
to lift the subtle wings of our souls


7/14/19

Ruf Der Taube/ Call of the Pigeon/ Grito De La Paloma

Erstrahlend im Licht
Das zarte Grün der Akazie
Und der Ruf der Taube




Shining in the light
The tender green of the acacia
And the call of the pigeon




Brilliando en la luz 
El delicado verde de la acacia 
Y el grito de la Paloma

Premium Member La Paloma

The splayed light of an obliging red sunset
lays upon the darkening meadow
of windswept grass

Slow-moving fingers in a visible dance
wrap in quiet space
when moonlight, silhouettes our hands
as they bond

A falling star etches the night sky
burning its canvas like a struck match
vanishing as quickly as it came

The rush of life abates to a small distance
so we can free ourselves from outgrown nests
to float like doves on tender breezes
until we can fly when love is found
to lift the subtle wings of our soul


7/14/19
11/18/19 contest Writing Challenge 2, November
A Poem Meaningful
sponsor Dear Heart-Wiishkobi Ode


Wordsmith - a Tribute To Paloma With the Seeker

read her while sipping my morning cuppa
'tween news bytes and clock chimes-
I found myself in her words and wept
as I imagined honey dripping from her
lips whilst she read aloud each cherished verse
bringing back to my mind a song I once knew
singing my life with her words
killing me softly
killing me softly
it was then that i realized that this vain
life that i lived had meaning, for her 
words were balms of healing to me 'neath
a starry sky filled with both beauty and pain
and I knew from that moment on
that my world would never be the same

As in this world my mind does fall
'neath evergreens of zephyr's dance
midst echoes endless come to call
and posy dreams now set to chance

These words of written complex feel
‘pon verses painted paisley flow
her ink now drips like molten steel
‘twixt softer reach of moonbeam'd glow

Of turnstile motions, spinning ‘round
my head now dazed though not confused
of every sorted page once found
along a path her thoughts infused

As Hepburn smiles Chantilly lace
I find there ‘neath this photo’d frame
emotions plead in wished for grace-
my world shall never be the same

read her once while sipping my morning cuppa-
my life has never been quite the same

Bleeding Paloma

Bleeding Paloma

He sees her in the tree, high up
Hidden among the mango leaves
Her egg-shell coloring peer through
The dark green.  He scatters the 
Seeds upon the earth and waits 
Until she flitters down, at first
Untrusting the paloma walks.
She notices him as she feeds, 
But she does not flee.  He is
A kind child.  A good heart
He convinces her and lulls hers
Near with more in his palms 
Open she moves in sway and
He takes her up as she feeds 
On his seeds.  
He caresses her plums, fingers
Beneath her light wings folded 
Back to her side.  And her
Eyes study him, this natural 
Child, curious face and smiling.
He suddenly takes her in his 
Tight grasp, she struggles to 
Ease out.  He holds her against the 
Bare earth and places a 
Rock on one of her winds
To Keep her there.  He watches her, 
Walks away for a bit and then
Comes back with a new face
Of deceit and mischievous coals 
Kindling unsafe thoughts and 
Indifference to her naïve cooing.  
He bends over her and pulls out a machete.
First he picks at her free wing with it.
And then he brings it over his shoulder and
It swings into to her, that dull
Blade that makes him grin at his
Experiment.  The little boy watches the 
Bird flail to the ending tired agony
And shock and betrayal and she is
Wounded.  Her wing barely attached
Still to its center.  He sets the rock aside and 
Uses his toes to move her around,
To examine the handy work.  A voice
Calls him, and he scanters away;
A new distraction to please him.
The bird weakly flails on the earth, like
Shocks of movement and then silence 
And then horrid shaking.  Feathers litter
The bare earth.
The paloma lies in the reddening dirt.

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