Best Paragraphs Poems
(PoetrySoup Format)
Predictable, practical pose
as a simple sentence suggests,
accepting how the story goes,
while syllables shape silhouettes.
~ Simple scribbles serenade me ~
Paragraphs, hold poise and power
while illuminating passion,
and thoughts anticipate the hour,
forms flow in a feathered fashion.
~ Sonnets and sweet simplicity ~
Playful, parallel poetry
cause positions to part and pause,
dimensions divide, dive deeply,
and lines love to linger, because.
~ Synonyms sing a symphony ~
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* As thoughts twirl, they paint a picture *
Please the senses with Poetry
( 8 syllable count within each line )
He read her like a book
as her wistful words poured forth
from deep within the pages
of her tender seeking soul.
He lay mesmerized
as her paragraphs spoke
softly to him, luring him
so deep into her soothing spell.
He gently held the precious volume
in his searching hands
while memorizing each and every line
that danced across her parchment pages.
He perused her thoughts
so deep into the summer night,
word by word, as he sought
to understand the secrets of her soul.
He caressed the palish pearly pages
as her wistful whispered words
tenderly touched the fantasies within his mind,
fulfilling all his dreams,
until the light of dawn began to break.
On this summer night
he read her like a book…
again and again.
August 1, 2022
Poem of the Day - August 3, 2022
Skimming through paragraphs,
I seem to stretch time and shrink my attention
Underlining words I can't grasp
With my limited span of concentration,
Creating art I can't explain
Stick men and asymmetrical shapes,
Spiralling into mazes and dotted lines
Lost in an alphabet jungle.
Encircling page numbers,
Decorating the margins with unflattering flowers,
Marking pages with , blue, pink, fluorescent ink, washing them dry
And awfully bright, missing out on the 'fatality rate' mentioned.
Little wings sprouting from a wavering mind, flying away from topics of discussion.
Dragging my imaginary feet across events in memory;
faces and voices muffled and in disarray
Eyes still glued to statistics and rates,
But seeing ten thousand flickery lights ;
dreams of glitter and starry nights.
Thoughts then seem like little bubbles,
helping me procrastinate much longer.
A finger snap would sound like a rifle shot at this point,
Shattering the world I made,
And awareness rising from rubbles,
Would speak for itself, about things I cannot evade.
assorted like the washing on its lines
the words appeared along my way
in bunches of neat paragraphs
they briskly flapped into my mind
still dripping with those concepts they
must have been soaked in for a while
I gladly felt them touching me
and liked their affluent display
of shapes and textures manifold
enjoyed the pleasant freshness
of the smell they carried off all
seasons’ winds spiced with ideas
time passing by would watch me
stealthily try on this one or that so
in their context rinsed with thought
to cool the feverish qualms of my
keen heart and growingly my soul
seems to be draped in purified attire
(PoetrySoup Format)
You are my reality ( a reassuring reflection )
a believer, an achiever – my expectation
secured symmetry
illuminating my imagination
- in paragraphs of poetry
( My reason to be )
----------------------------------------
Scribbling Outside the Lines
~ Looking beyond the Ordinary ~
* Because You are my Vocabulary *
Unable to somehow escape this castle of want
As an apparition endlessly roaming its corridores
From room to room and door to door; up and down its spiral staircase
Looking at the paintings upon the walls, of another era, gone by....
Desperately seeking something inside, of these bolted moments
Trapped within its confines of self imposed?
Fairytales of created desires; born upon the pages
Of the now, once upon a time....
Sitting in front of the Venetian vanities looking glass mirror
Lights aglow and brush in hand
As voices resound all about, within hushed tones
Whispering a myriad of marmoreal; which haunts her past
Eyes penetrating beyond these reflections; caught behind their closing gates
As a hand reaches out amid the darkness
Her once again trance, broken, by its gentle touch....
Rising from her Victorian armchair, to embrace, his offering of love
The prince of longings arrival ~
Adorned in the jewels of promises long ago written
Across the predestined of the parchments, blood red heart
Two souls colliding....
Crossing these barriers; to the always, of meant to be
Holding the magical key, to these chains that had bound her
Within the chambers of the castles walls; which only he, could ever unlock!
Beyond the balcony of never never lands, forbidden forest
Apparitions of dreams once dreamn't; sealed, forever, between the paragraphs....
As upon a white steed they ride, unto the sunrise, of happilies ever after ~
Into the awakened hand of fates, land of the enchanteds, "Love," forevermore!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The crumbling of ebonies tower....
Write Me
your ballad of beliefs
your epistle of emotions
your parable of paradigms
your chronicle of convictions
Underline Me
------------ -------
leave nothing out
embrace the honesty
bare your naked soul
Italicize Me
finesse the cadence
narrate with engaging elan
embellish with panache and aplomb
UPPERCASE ME
Magnify the Momentous
Shout from the Summits
Accentuate the Ascendant Apogees
Bold Me
use your signature font
imbue me with the vocabulary of your DNA
...the glossary of your very own fingerprints
*Punctuate*
your paragraphs with personality;
your chapters with charm -
your stanzas with s t y l e !
I am your diary of daydreams
your scrapbook of stories
your poem of promises
your litany of life
I am your tale
Write
me
written 6 July 2023
Our hearts were a veritable slow dance
And I didn’t have to put my baby
In the corner
Our retinas
became diamond forged binds
In serenity’s lock
Dipping
Your tear ducts within our wishing wells
Never
Running
Dry
Our flesh
Bringing lukewarm elasticity
To gentle boil
Every graceful thrust
Mimicking fireplace embers
Under cabin’s winter moon
Until my deep sigh
Embedded paragraphs
Within “Dear John” parchment
…
At least
Trinity’s hourglass
Permitted me to sing I love you choruses
Before your hearts’ phone line
Disconnected
…
©Drake J. Eszes
Contrary let’s have a conversation
Let’s speak to euphemisms
And pregnant letters of anagrams
Sentencing fixation declaring persona non grata
Heads chopped for Eskimos
Sensing heresy and heresy’s
Running around context to a content
Telling a novel to a telenovela
Paragraphs to a paraplegic in paralysis
Please let’s not sell confirmation to be firm
Brought to be bought
Needles piercing through a pierced needle
Mending letters for letter heads
A grieve sensing tears departing death
Condolences speaking so well with pain
She’s passed on, on to the ethos-
And incarnations
Ancestors to an ancestor-
Leaving God with bill to captures guts;
A man with a liver
Words with a man and it was men
Independents, depending on what happens
Independents where are you?
Schizophrenia for frivolous
Respect for all who respond
Spirits speaking so well with spirituality
Serving a soul so soul for flesh purpose
Unity with bones for free
Miracles doomed and boomed in miraculous
Listening to a beginning: a sun so sweet for a sweet
Manifest in emblematic sworn in; the alchemy
Mending Words : THE TRENCHES
THE TRENCHES the pure truth so colorful, so to bring out the beast in a beast; philosophy, spirituality and dreams in priggish ways a fifth chapter.
Tapping to "The End"
The tap, tap, tapping of the keys
with the carriage thrown
in rhythmic dings to the letters
appearing on the page.
Each letter becoming a word
then turning into a sentences
that flows into paragraphs
of the story living in his head.
Zzzzzzip !!! Another page finished!!
Followed by the click, click clicking
of new paper being fed to address the
quick flow of his words.
He was at his work and had found
his muse, singing in rhythmic chorus,
through the quiet of the early hours
while others down below try to drift
asleep to the clicking,
dinging and tapping of his keys.
Better still, we all knew, than the pacing
and shuffling of steps round and round
the room--- The attic floor revealing
the circles of worried creative thinking.
The storyline falls into place
as the characters breathe on the page
and new life appears in chapter after chapter.
He pecks on with his typing with writers
ferociously till his story reaches “The End”
5/16/13
For: “The Typewriter” contest hosted by Craig
One flower almost gray
but visibly not
Brushed by a breeze on
concrete wet
Emerged from a crevasse
along the corner
Forced to hold on to its
limited yellow
Open to suggestion
More than several
shapes take hold
On a distant wall of
wind emerged tornadoes
Spun in favor of the
days rotation
Coming in from the west
At a 90 degree
declination
Turns to be determined
left or right
Angles perpendicular to
the east
The eye wall wobbling
uncertain to reason
As gray turns to black
Rises with barometric
pressure
Collapsed on the
moments fragile flight
Palm trees hang
suspended, then animate
Fall like paragraphs
pinned down by wind
News wires bent on
facts lean in to learn
There to understand it
Hurricane begins,
uproots humanity
Removes them like tooth
decay
Electric lines freak
out, burn on orange red desires
Dangle in the wind in
pain without a smile
Touch puddles as
children walk by
Inclement weather does
strange things
Impacts
the storm track still intact
Leaves nothing behind
or to the imagination
Including its name
which is forgotten
Roads clear and are not
there
Traffic, trees,
people... Poof!..all gone
Storm warnings move on,
hunger for warmth
Looking for a tropical
paradise to wrong
The name of this poem is "…" So the first line is shown.
The system would not let me put that in the title box. Sew, so...
...
Hear and now, know here and now, no! No!
It is all wrong, “aint” that a fact?
No. Really… no.
Aint, paint, saint, I feel faint.
! Yes. Use that one. ! Use it again!!! (! Symbol and then…)
How about a ? ? (? Symbol for question and then ? for punctuation correct)
That is odd. Let us not discuss txting. (texting, xing, dead when driving)
Small “c”, big “C”, capitalized.
What about the rest of the letters?
Are numbers okay to use, if I forget how to spell, to, two, too much?
Paints in the box. The letters the shapes the textures of life.
Smell them. Take them in with every wiff, whiff? (Onomatopoeia, can you sing that?)
Double “dd”, double “tt”, double “oo”, wrong word score.
Spear, fear, mear, mere, “find the thesaurus”.
Have you ever spent time reading one?
You should.
The dictionary was badly burned in 1963.
No one nose, no's, knows who set the fire…
We did not land on the moon.
It was a sad day, but our people came home.
Safe.
The world moved on…
Remember when they gave spelling tests?
Three times each and every word, every line, get one wrong then do nine!
Are you still wondering the name of this poem? (...)
Laughter is the best place to begin looking at ourselves.
Mixed paint in a tray. Pencils, pens, art in words…Free Speech!
Hold on to your flag...
We, all of us… build sentences,
erect paragraphs and dream up skyscraper stories.
We swirl and whirl words around until they fit together,
The effort to find the perfect match.
The ultimate combination of acceptance and understanding.
Authors don’t get to stand and sing on stage, we must be quiet.
Storytellers rarely receive the time they need to fix the uncertain details.
Maps are lost, tiny jewels fall between the cracks,
but swiftly pens capture, miracles and even an epiphany.
Patient warriors, working for no one on earth,
fixed on collecting nothing more
than the truth.
A freak of literature
Designed by those mad poets
But escaped the lab:
the English classroom,
Its me G the hybrid word:
With added punctuation and
bold character so im strong-
Arial be my font family but I paced away,
So I ain't close to them
So sorry paragraphs and stanzas!
I guess the writer knows my verses.
A lonely word, a sentence out cast:
Low self esteem and narrow stem
Serifs sticking out so im teased!
Roaming the lines, in the bottom line
Seeing meaningless words and incorrect spellings;
Paragraphs hanging in the margins ,
Looking out for erasers and ink removers
No word dreams of spending their literature:
Stroked out; erased and torn out;
Threw in a garbage can: that hell!
O please writers answer us!
We just want to be read in harmony,
And spelled correctly.
We words know:
That these are the last Summarized times
so the poem might end
But let me finish up,
The writers know the poetry
The whole story, they created us!
Words of this Chapter
The freak of literature,
How do I know? it's the writer
The prophecy of the chosen word:
The son of poets and the proper nouns
So they all capital letters,
Yeah! They coming for yeah!
The errors, words that have been erased
The undead, the unreadable
Damn the legible,
Think they better than us!
Cause they accepted by the writers,
Writing and prophesizing sentences
Those verses forming stories,
It's war: words stroked
Cold inked so they erased,
Torn out papers!
This is deeper than writing!
We all words destined to be read
So some are reasoning,
Is this a verse or a poem?
Many words are beginning-
to question their literature,
Begging writers to write evenly,
No orphans and widows:
We just want to be spaced out,
Adjustments and justified
In lined sentences-so we spread out
Properly uniting calling paragraphs;
Growing in numbers to stanzas,
So all the readers read us as one story.
Life is
Life is never easy
everyone will say it’s true
Especially if the palette
is a dismal shade of blue
More than one can handle
when the weight is far too much
Loneliness and sorrow
and some other things and such
Life is not an object
you can put upon a shelf
Toss into a dresser drawer
to keep it from yourself
Paint it with a magic pen
that’s filled with promised ink
Hide behind a photograph
no matter what you think
Life is not a carpet
you can vacuum day and night
Gathering the fragments
that have hidden there from sight
Mix it in a blender
till its creamy satin smooth
Pack up in a cardboard box
when you decide to move
Life is not a fantasy
with castles and their kings
Paisley painted paragraphs
or any written things
Butterflies and daffodils
along the garden wall
Nor a day in springtime
or an evening in the fall
Life, though if you look at it
can be so many things
If you just turn in the past
for what tomorrow brings
For it can change, I know it can
A beautiful display
That’s why I’ve written down these words
So to you I can say
Life is what you make of it
each morning you arise
If you wear a smile
as you open up your eyes
You’ll find a world that’s beautiful
out there for you to see
So come on now, its waiting there
see what your life can be
Ok, not one of my best. But I hope you like it.
Love of Literature
Upon the nightstand rests my favorite book,
I beckon her to bed to have a look.
Anxious anticipation flutters in my chest,
As the day's worries and woes, are laid to rest.
Tenderly, I take her in my hands,
Caressing her cover, she knows my plans.
Lightly yielding as we take our place,
Willing and submissive, with gentle grace.
She's a beauty, in her soft subtle veil,
Gently, my fingers trace her textures, an ardent braille.
I know her body—every peak, every valley, a touch sublime,
Tracing her contours, along the edge, then down her spine.
Pulse quickening, eager mind,
Awaiting the adventure that lies inside.
With delicate fingers, I find my bookmark,
With heightened anticipation,
I spread her pages apart.
An intoxicating aroma fills the night air,
A sweet, savory bouquet, found in classic books so rare.
From the outer page, my finger glides,
All the way across, till I'm just inside.
With a soft, tender touch, I navigate the crease,
Gently pushing outward, tensions released.
With attentive focus, all the way down to the end,
Traversing to the other side, to start again.
Her soft, thin pages, a silky, delicate skin,
A gripping story, further drawing me in.
With the flick of my tongue, I wet my fingertip,
And turn the page with a single finger flip.
Chapter 3, it's just her and me.
Enchanted by her sultry love story,
Hopelessly entangled in her romantic glory.
Page after page, we're intimately engaged,
With kinks and cramps, our positions changed.
Playful paragraphs in passionate positions—
Quite the literary expedition.
Steamy, sensual sentences scintillate the senses,
Trembled? Or trembling? Lost all track of tenses.
Her sensual story, passionate and deep,
Inviting me in further, tonight we do not sleep.
Captivated by every line, savoring every word, I take my time.
Two souls entwined, one rhythm and one rhyme.
Dawn's rays through the window gently creep,
With a sigh, I slowly close the book, softly she weeps.
"Rest assured, my darling, you'll be alright,
For I'll see you again, another rendezvous tonight."
Of all my cherished tomes, she'll always be first,
My love of literature, an unquenchable thirst.