Best Palpitating Poems
Let me write you a poem.
A poem so great Bukowski would give me a hats off-
And hand me a beer.
A poem so well-written, John Mayer would play me a
Tribute song with his guitar.
Let me bring Shakespeare to shame-
Let me write you sonnets one and two,
Three, Four and maybe
Five hundred.
Let the only alliteration be that of our laughter,
As we exchange puns and stories.
Let the words “I love you” be an understatement.
Let us be the Paradox – and let the popcorn munching crowd watch us with awe.
Let the touching of our lips write Concrete poems.
Let your embraces warm me with Haikus.
Chase me through Couplets where we are the only couple.
Let the only Dramatic Monologue be that within my palpitating heart.
Wrap me with imagery-
Shower me with smiles and similes.
Be the Free Verse,
Be the Epic poem,
Be the Ghazal poetry drunkards wrote to their loved ones…
Be the hero in my Heroic couplets,
Be the one.
Just let me write you a poem-
Where your name is the only repeated term.
Where the only irony is the twist of fate that brought us together.
Where the only onomatopoeia is the ROAR of your rusty car’s engine.
Where we stand like Oxymorons- contradictory but side by side.
Just let me write you a poem.
Or a novel
Or a play
Or a song-
Let me write you something.
Like melody in the warmth of a sunlit meadow
Like jingles in the journey of a sparkling stream
Like tunes in the twinkling of a moonlit night
Music comes to take you on a soothing flight.
Rain sings to see the peacocks dance
Sky sings in tune with the rising sun
Cradle sings to drive the baby's eyes into the world of dreams
Life sings when faithful love wins.
There's music in the pecking of a bird
There's music all over the world
Music fills the air with the perfume of peace
Music, to the palpitating soul, proffers relief.
Sing to heal the pain
Sing to cleanse the stains of disdain
Sing to challenge injustice
Sing to question prejudice
Sing to spread love
Sing to paint smiles
Sing with your heart
Sing for your soul
Sing to inspire
Sing to set the world on fire
Sing your life and let your story kindle the globe
Profound silence
felt and revered,
stirring an awesome emotion
which stillness repeals
whenever brightness shines;
and the primroses' scent spreads the delight
of the mild season.
What do the stars
tell a lover's heart...palpitating
in tranquility, amid shadows
that advance with the pretty fireflies?
Dream, and reprieve from the loss...
hoping that love doesn't lay at rest,
but chooses to celebrate
'till after the evening and tell romantic tales.
The invisible crickets chirp,
somewhat awkward to the ears,
I'd rather hear the coos of the owls,
which are richer and more harmonious in sound,
but where are they in this darkness, unless
they are mating in the willows of the lake?
Our blanket is spread on the wide Sheep Meadow,
with the superb view of the Manhattan's skycrapers,
towering over us as sentinels in castle's towers.
Juliet wanted to taste this freedom,
embracing and kissing her handsome Romeo,
not fearing anyone intruding in her paradise,
unwilling to leave anytime soon;
and unruffled, she would continue to love him.
What do the stars tell a lover's heart?
Accept the lovely rose that he offers you, and adore it,
because it has no thorns, to make you bleed in despair;
sing with him a beautiful sonnet that Shakespeare wrote
for his lover who crossed the huge Atlantic ocean,
when ships took months to reach America's shore!
Written on 2/19/2010
“Le lacrime del Cuore”
As the tears faithfully fall on cedar wood
A chaotic still thru sacerdotal sky where it stood
And blood rapidly runs down on cypress veins
Where the palpitating pine sadly shows its pains
The birds of prey perched perfectly passive
As the heart hinders to their words impassive
Nazarene nails reveal their tenacious teeth
And the sands of sorrow bellow underneath
A bludgeoned body from east to west
As the wounded wood is gently blessed
The heavens hibernate with clouds of grey
To meaningfully mourn this degenerative day
The cryptical cross now stands surreal
For a King is crowned with thorns that seal.
(March.24.2016)...June.6.2016
Jesus Contest
By Anthony Slausen
Separated by distances
As time dances in and out
The evolution of our being
Caught so tight, interwoven
Hearts palpitating, pressing
To expolore each possible nuance
There's a carnival of imagination
Left poised on every vacant lot
Teeming on the market
With unusual resale value
Captivating soul dance ether
Murmuring through density of dreams
Your thick breath whispering heat
Draws me towards the infinite
Love Without Embrace
...can someone recreate and grasp their embrace of lost love?...
Oh! what treachery of love is this?
abandoned by a Judas kiss…
Does not my soul soundly speak?
condemned and crucified by the love I seek…
I am here my love, can thou not see me?
I feel thy chronic cries with a palpitating plea…
Oh! What madness is within thy mind?
I stand in front of thee for thus thou shall find…
Oh! What an evil spell thou have cast,
I hear thee and see thee not, a speck of dust from the past…
What a diabolical dread, please speak no more,
for each word I hear brings me closer to death’s door…
My love thou must awaken from this nightmares dream,
for my heart touches thy heart in a silent scream…
And thus I pray for our love to reconnect,
for we are abandoned in oblivion of love’s neglect
I am drowning in my filth for thy love I cannot taste,
save my salvaged soul, my love, make haste make haste…
Tis the moon I last see a frozen moment of your face,
in my abandonment of love without embrace.
June.14.2018
Abandon Poetry
Sponsored by: Brenda Chiri
Dear penguin bearers,
Your fears are my letters.
Your attacks are my words.
Your choking is my ink.
Your voice is my language.
Your trembling is the content of my story.
Your agony is the magnitude of my magnum opus.
I read your feelings
I feel your shivers
I write your soliloquies
I sing your monologues
We all are trying to survive
in the same reign of terror
We are not alone in this terrific strive
All we reflect is a powerful personality in the mirror.
It's tough to lead a normal life
as our wings are cut with a sharp knife
But we don't cease to fly
For, we know our spirits are high
We are God's favorite children
He wants us to shine like one in a million
He is always there to pat our back and soothe our spines
He is constantly teaching us to read between the lines
So, let's make our shoulders strong
Let's not bend for anything wrong
Realise that there is an army of palpitating souls around us
Let's spread the rosiness of the inspiring story hidden in each one of us.
With love and reverence,
A fellow penguin bearer.
Note : The poem addresses the "Penguin bearers". The phrase "Penguin bearers" refers to the victims of mental illnesses like Panic and anxiety disorders,depression etc.
do you dress with shapeshifting dreams,
when the blanket of eyes unfolds
reeling... a realm of myriad realism ~
in echoes from elements of delusive domains?
there's a veil so thin, enlightened between ~
t r u t h and l i e ... f i r e and a s h ,
and must you lose your eloquent elixir
to inhale their dusty deceptions?
when we only need to choose not to conform,
and resolve to realise that every lifeline
is a palpitating paradox in this musical mosaic ,
~ of possibilities and promised uncertainties ...
life is what is faithfully lived ~
through a lavender lens made for not two,
but one, unseen in the metaphysical ~
yet felt closely in the inner sanctum,
resting within the runes of the lotus chakra
and bridging the balance between
the bleak blankness breathing in space ~
where memories flow distant
in the marrow of astral mantras ...
as everything fades from this funeral flame
I will not be lost, but found... a homesick soul,
the searcher of silence, that sleeps within
the spirit of the One, my divine sculptor ~
in his purified prayers, desires lose their form,
when the seventh heaven rehearses
a ray of selfless spiritualism amongst the stars
syncing salvation as a rhythm ~ a crystal pulse,
flickering through the illusion of solidity ...
TINKLE CHRISTMAS SPIRIT, TINKLE
Bosom of palpitating air:
air blowing crisp and cold
cold amidst sweet greetings of care:
care that never grows old!
Old Christmas bells, Tinkle! Tinkle!
Tinkles sound cheers and joys;
joy invites peace. Hence, love twinkles.
Twinkling touch, we'll employ...
Employed presents under the tree,
tree dressed in balls and lights.
Lights agreeing to dance: carefree
freely dazzling all night!
Night persons away from their homes:
homes where their hearts belong,
to belong whereever they roam.
Roam but not a lifelong...
Let long uttered prayers and roars
be roars of unity.
Unity to clear clouds of war
wars ending cruelty!
________________________________________________
10:00 pm, December 10, 2015
I stared at the ceiling in the dead of the night.
Depressed, devoid of feelings I needed light.
Something in the bulb, palpitating in delight.
Enticing like a siren, flashing colours ignite.
Depressed, devoid of feelings I needed light.
A dribbling Moth I espied, duped by the sight.
Enticing like a siren, flashing colours ignite.
'Stop, wake up you stupid Moth' sadly I cried.
A dribbling Moth I espied, duped by the sight.
Moth dived, got scorched on a suicide flight.
'Stop, wake up you stupid Moth' sadly l cried.
Dazed, Moth got up preparing for another dive.
Moth dived, got scorched on a suicide flight.
Creeping Gecko with a dancing tongue, I espied.
Dazed, Moth got up preparing for another dive.
Gecko's tongue lashed out, Moth got eaten alive.
Creeping Gecko with a dancing tongue, l espied.
Gecko looked at me, winked and smiled.
Gecko's tongue lashed out, Moth got eaten alive.
'Snap out of it stupid Man, go get a life.'
Gecko looked at me, winked and smiled.
Something in the bulb, palpitating in delight.
'Snap out of it stupid Man, go get a life.'
I stared at the ceiling in the dead of the night.
Clouds drift slowly like soft tissues across the lonely cold face of the crying moon,
absorbing its golden tears and leaving the night painted in ebon darkness.
Darker still on Halloween, the ethereal shadows seem to solidify and come to life
taking labored breaths, pulsing and writhing, in the changing lamp light's starkness.
He is the shadow, ancient as the contorted limbs on the twisted leafless trees that cast
grotesque shadow puppet silhouettes against the canvas of the sky. Need palpitating,
he remains melted in the corner of the cemetery behind the church's old bell tower.
How long he has been here he can not remember, sitting and waiting, always waiting.
He hungers for emotion and savors each delectable morsel, anger and hate has a delicious taste,
so creamy like freshly churned butter, but lust is his desire, his deepest craving
and what he waits for this night, as he licks from his gnarled hands the sticky remnants
of blood and doomed soul of his latest victim as he lay in the filth of the street raving.
Remaining hidden in his favorite haunt, the alley by the graveyard where few people pass,
only the most deviant come, muggers, murderers and ladies of the night, the ultimate chocolates.
The dulcet sound of epicene heels echo on the pavement near him, the beautiful vamp
her prey in tow, unaware she's on tonight's menu, moves into the shadows... as he waits.
10/05/15
Time passes…
And things are left with no traces—
Be it a dream confusion in a cold forgetful night,
Sneaking and trespassing on an ancient boyish fright,
Or an old man mourning the pride
Of a brightly hidden straightforward sight?
You don’t know! Perhaps you taught yourself how to know—
To walk asleep like all these men and women…
While your eyes are still wide open. But...,
Still you don’t know how they pass away,
How they live the night and sleep the day
When— from height to height they heavily bounce on each other,
You— from low to low sound no bother.
But..., who are you? Who am I talking to?
I think I am losing control over you
I feel like losing control over you…
Over the whole world and over myself, too;
And I don’t feel or dare any more.
Perhaps— the only thing I still care about is your eyes.
Are they closed? Maybe open?
Probably, both of your eyes are watchfully open.
But… What if there is only one eye open?
Would it be the right one or- the next?
And… What if both of your eyes are not open… closed?
How would they be- your colourless life and tree?
My mind is telling me that my eyes are open—
The two of them are widely open and free..., though
My heart’s palpitating corpse is whirling into my deafen’d ears its stormy wind,
Bleeding all silence and healing all fiend,
Telling me…
That my eyes have always been open— carefully open,
Yet in my pink-painted dreams.
Hypochondrial Delusion
A mind corrupted canker
Of cystic self failure
Even gastric anorexia
And fluttery throb to alight the fear
An adrenaline generated tachycardia
That matches respiration
And causes hyperventilation
With invasive pacy rhythm
And palpitating violation
To anxious infarction
In schizoid arrest
A hepatic paranoia
of dermal yellow
And lily liver assault
That feeds a life non start
Of malignant low self esteem
A delusional malaise
Of apoplectic panic
And stressful apoplexy
A localized dorsal twinge
To further worry
Lumbar or thoracic or
Renal calculi or a case of
Bulimic nausea and peptic ulcer
To stoke the festering psyche
Of somatic obsession
Embolic anguish that leads to
A hypertensive strain
With muscular tremor and distorted vision
And a full blown occulogyric crisis
Ensued by catatonia
Comatosed by
Psychotic breakdown and
Inactive body systems
A perusal of the medical book
Confirms the diagnosis of
Life threatening
Hypochondria
A tangible love I love to love
I've touched love one billion times
I've held hands in every rhyme
The rhythm of my heart betrays me
With every palpitating poetic line
Is it a sign?
Of true love a love divine
the will of the love
Struck heart be done.
I touched her face I've claimed
A delicate space in her heart between
The velvet lace and poetic paradise
Love is there
If the rhythm of the heart does
Not flow on, this love be gone
The heart moans a TWILIGHT song
Fistful butterflies sway along with the wind.
Ever frolicking through the vibrant desires.
Fistful sand slipping down in haste.
Unbothered about the delays and tussles around.
Fistful days flipping over.
Highlighting every single day.
Fistful memories binding themselves together.
Creating a most treasured treatise.
Fistful wishes probable, contingent or disguise.
Forever igniting the coal inside.
Fistful choices through the passable maze.
Attempt to escape but no respite.
Fistful thoughts sparkling out of palpitating chords.
Capable of entangling entire life.
Fistful learning running through the veins.
Enabling sturdy stature to prevent the derail.
Fistful steps towards the embarkation.
Creating a journey that travels through the stars.
Fistful smiles fluttering around in joy.
Contagiously sorting out the difficulties and sorrow.
Fistful opportunities that emanate from hard work.
Enough to be the cynosure through the rise.
Fistful always lets the phoenix rise.
Every creation is a conscious choice.
Fistful time .....may what....may I write!
3min Write' Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Matt Caliri
Dated: 16.09.2024