Best Partaking Poems
Iberia, you took my breath away
with fiery gypsy spirit and romance;
with ancient Moorish history and grace;
with everything there is of you to see;
to hear and smell; to feel inside my soul.
Diversity lives splendidly in you!
The ancient cultures beckoned me to you
when, like the Romans, lured from far away,
I came to you and gave to you my soul,
partaking of your passion and romance.
I’d read of you in school and had to see!
How glad I was to come and know your grace.
A mosque in Cordoba reveals your grace,
but I would learn there is much more of you. . .
Cathedrals dressed in gold I was to see.
From palace walls, in awe I’d walk away
to find nearby - in gypsy caves - romance
in music. . . as Flamenco filled my soul!
With passion’s beat resounding in my soul,
I toured Seville, where ladies rode with grace
on horses with their toreadors! Romance
is in the air at Spanish fairs. And you
can make it hard for one to turn away
from all the magic offered there to see.
In northern parts of you, I was to see
The Pyrenees, whose beauty touched my soul,
quaint villages with mountain goats! Away
I went southeast then, greeted by more grace.
Along your coast, I saw a side of you
I grew to love, Valencia’s romance!
And in Madrid, I found my own romance,
a handsome Spaniard. Never would I see
his face again because, in leaving you,
I left him and a small part of my soul.
So much I’d not yet seen of all your grace,
but destiny was calling me away. . .
I yearn to feel romance inside my soul;
breathe history and see again your grace.
Enchanted land, you are so far away!
May 4, 2010 Now used for Thvia Shetley's Foreign Travel Contest
Springtime dawns
Springtime dawns
just beyond
the screen door,
across the porch
Dew swept lawn,
emerald weave
shimmering moisture
collecting foot prints
strolling towards
an arched entryway
gingerbread trimmed,
covered in jasmine
alive with rainbow
flutters, prismatic
butterfly wings
partaking of
nature’s pure nectar
Beneath it a
flagstone walkway
abstract stones
assorted shapes
and patterns
meandering through
lavender and hollyhock,
daisies and tulips
and upon it
you and me
hand in hand
watching the sunrise
wash the sky
in floral hued quivers
as we welcome another
beautiful day
of love
Good morning Soupers
To hunger for truth,
as lies feast on perception
sitting at the table with hope and desire
Where vanity is served in a cold glass of pride
until humility becomes drunk
and left to sleep undisturbed
To understand each portion served
is uncooked speculation,
that causes truth to become ill
as you cut away the difference
between right and wrong
To be obsessed by truth
is a thirst that can only be quenched
by its partaking and knowing its taste
the full body of its scent and flavor
It is not poured out of the bottle of maybe
that comes from the store of liars
that sell their wares of confusion
for their own purpose
If my obsession with truth
as I sit at this table is naive
let it be so
so that my soul may grow
from the nourishment of its purity
7/19/17
See this girl in the painting, this skinny girl
working on a puzzle at the bottom of the stairs.
With big rimmed glasses and her plain brown hair,
she’s an ordinary girl, with nothing seeming special.
Now see this girl. . . really SEE this girl.
At age 12, she’s just been fitted with new glasses -
They are black horn-rimmed - an utter disappointment
in the life of a young girl.
Some guys now call her four-eyes, and they don’t even notice
the beauty of her light green eyes and
long lush lashes behind those big-framed glasses.
But still she likes to fantasize, and in her dreams
she’s idolized by every boy she likes.
Always having wanted to be part of the “in” crowd,
she was a girl that struggled for popularity.
However, she’s been learning of another way to be!
Seeking out girls more like her, she hardly has to try
to fit in with her new friends. And now she’s much less shy.
With fun new friends, she is witty. She makes them laugh.
She’s even feeling pretty, wearing lipstick frosty pink.
She’s discovered she is smart in all her classes.
This girl who now is wearing black rimmed glasses!
She gets into the Glee Club, even sings on PBS!
With her athleticism, she also has success.
She makes Top Twelve in tryouts for cheerleading.
And though the student body does not vote her through,
she’ll soon get over it. She’s blossoming!
The glasses she will change for contact lenses,
and she does not know it yet,
but soon enough - a number of boyfriends she will get!
Also years of dance lessons and being in recitals
has boosted her self confidence.
Both her body and her spirit are transforming!
See the girl in the painting; a puzzle she assembles.
She does not know that one day
her mind will be on puzzles of a very different kind:
She will be assembling many words inside her mind,
and she will be partaking in an art called poetry.
I know all this because
the girl inside that painting - that ordinary girl -
is the one I used to be.
Based on the painting "Assembling the Pieces"
from Contemporary Figurative Artiste Stephanie Deshpande
for the Contemporary Free Rhyme Contest of Cyndi MacMillan
I hope you will see the painting at this link. When I saw the girl, I was
struck by how much it looked like me as a young girl: http://www.stephaniedeshpande.com/porfolio/
SHALL WE DANCE
Shall we dance, as two snakes encircling one another,
A bite to the strike, whom draws the first blood of
Passions bitter poison.
Venomous vipers, engaged in a twisted game of hidden desires,
Shielded by golden bands of confinements vows of promise,
Yet yielding under the guise of the serpent’s folk tongue.
Reptilian lovers Intertwining, beneath the light rays of the
Elliptical moons illumination, deceiver’s side slithering,
The truth of reality’s harsh dawning to come.
Desert tempest creatures, crushed under the swelling
Sand storms of destiny, rising in the winds rip tidal shift
Of exotic’s throngs of passion, then dashed upon the
Rocks of calamity’s destructive force.
Behold the skins of shame, we’ve shed in this our lost
Garden of paradise called Eden, as we descend limb
By limb, unraveling, retanggling, in a mutual enticement’s
Partaking of the unripen fruit, in this the harvested
Orchard of deceit, and lies of pleasure spoils.
Rattling’s bad to the bone species, are these
Deceiver’s dwelling under the moonlight,
Loves vanquished, by passions burnt embers
Of lusts cold blooded flame.
Veracity’s fiercest retile's in mortal combat
With their human hearts, or their raw physical
Basic instincts, the animal within themselves,
The beast of desire, exposing the coiling in raptures
After glow of the exotic.
In the emerald eyes of the snakes flashing, these
Are the transfixed, paralyzed prisoners of loves
Passionate vipers, the cursed of the forbidden.
Poisons intoxicated figures, silhouetted in the red
Moons seduction zone, he the hooded king cobra,
And I his empress taipan of the orient.
Glittering do our scales of temptation, damnation,
Oh but to die in this incoilment’s display of eternal
Abandonment, a climatic apex of poisonous predators,
Ripping, tarring at their bare exposed fleshes
Atonement, unsheived are these carnivores
Of passion.
Shall we dance, as two snakes encircling one another,
A bite to the strike, whom draws the first blood
Of passions bitter poison.
BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
Slipping down inside a crystal chandelier
red rouge cheeks running on through
breathe as visions settle in my mind
you're just a little bit of nutty
with an apricot perfume
quite exceptional I do say
a kindred spirit bouquet
Teasing along the tip of my palate
caramel gaze of grandeur glows
as you kiss my parched lips away
partaking a perfect compliment
in every simple way
sparkles spill in anticipation
topping off a pleasant kind of day
lordy
In the blink of an eye the time passes so fast it flies by
Define time
Lives a ***** then you die
Eye of the storm watches over my lifestyles fate
In dire straight bathing as the holy water washes over my tired face
I sate thirst
I taste black words emerge that I wanna say
and they say I'm shot away
First and second take pressing play checking the record again
Third I gotta change
Forth, fifth, sixth day Armageddon
Getting too close to the edges better slow down ya fast progression of mad acts of mankind's expansion of minds
Enhanced heights
Drawing a line's unintelligible in the advancement of time
At the end of our time do we start again?
Running the marathon man labyrinth
Passionate
Partaking in challenges
Participant champion triumphs
No standing on iron shoulders of arrogant giants
I'm the desert rat blazing a trail in my chariot of fire
Call me Pisces Iscariot sia-mese dream
Twin town hide and seek
Me, myself and I feature split minds spitefully
My real self hides inside myself and screams blue murder
From the tomb where my wounds tumor
Terminal doom soon turns gloomier
Duma key frenzied telepath terror streak
reeks havoc and brings sheer panic to every street
Splashing ink on a blank canvas
Painting the future with an exact accurate dooms day
In fact grab a seat at the master piece gallery of art of new fate
As a new day dawns ya fates drawn
Ya destiny's death till then you'll work just to pay for it
I'm sleep walking with one foot in my grave scourging in flames and the pains more moreish than this draw that I crave
Mad thoughts on my brain scattered funny
I'm that ex druggy heard talking to my sex life in a language I actually haven't studied
Which way is up cus this ascension gets me spinning out twisting figure eights into eyes of the thickest clouds
Brainstorm demon outcast from our modern lands
Phantom of the opera mask
Shock horror comic graph-ic novel
Zombie slash monster mash
Rapid action packed chapters
This mad dog's rabid
Scattering the ashes and rise a hundred phoenix
Evoke the cross ghosts demons and summon the spirits of lost souls
I'm like a poltergeist with a cross bow with poisonous bolts
I'll possess any joyous host
Annoy me I'll destroy every toy ya own
I enjoy walking through this void alone
What rose does not more beautiful appear
after your eyes have gazed on it so long?
The lark I now mellifluously hear
because you drew attention to its song.
The crisp aroma of dawn's petrichor
becomes acute as we walk hand in hand.
The taste of coffee pleases all the more,
partaking as we hunt shells in the sand.
To touch your face sends every neuron humming,
with you my sensors fire every minute.
Your heart and mine in one accord are drumming;
Our house is home because your love dwells in it.
You heighten every sense, each of the five;
With you beside me, life is more alive.
Written 29 Jul 2022
Fingertips click a
desperate breakbeat
as eyes glaze over
in blue light baptism
please overwhelm me
Binary jungle,
you glowing cesspit
through the clipping
curtain echoes a choir
of post-post ironic
agoraphobics.
Dopamine is a myth,
an expired meme
deemed mega cringe
Let the file rot into
informational abscess
Here we all wait before
Heaven's blockchained gate
tired of partaking into
a satire so removed from
a cogent solution,
It is simply void.
Here is coldest oblivion in
this stupid cyborg machine,
but the world is so
Y2K heat death-core
Whatever that means
It turned a generation
made us abandonware
Just to feed us nostalgia
for times when we
would bother to care.
As my mind flies back to the days of childhood,
I remember what funny games we used to play.
Children from far and near neighborhood
Would assemble every weekend to have fun all day!
Families in close vicinity were like a joint family.
Often sat together gaily round a common table,
Sometimes partaking of a tasty homemade fare
Or chatting and laughing merrily over many a fable
Neighbors were bonded together in love.
In every need, there was a helping hand.
Contented with what little each one produced,
Sharing what they had, lived as a single band.
In pain and strain, there was a shoulder to lean on
In joy, all could share, being connected to one another.
In days of old, men didn’t live isolated as on an island.
To each one, his neighbor’s pain was always a bother.
Now neighbors have become more like strangers.
Sometimes we meet them in the corridor or on the lift.
A flitting smile is passed between or a casual ‘hello’.
Life is too busy, from one pursuit to another, all drift.
Smart phones and internet have made life so mechanical.
All connections lost; another’s wellbeing is never our concern.
We must reinstate and rebuild the snapped-up ties.
Despite all progress, I wonder if to old times, we should return.
Feb.9. 2023
~ Placed First~
Acquaintance and Neighborhood Poetry Contest
Sponsor – Sotto Poet
Strawberries And Unknown Girl
Strawberries grow unaided in the field
Green, red and magic on the day
Sentinels stationed; they speak kindly of the Sun
And sometimes of an unknown girl
She’s there just out of reach
In the air, partaking of sweet pleasures
Years collect themselves in silence
Still sense her song and mystery adrift
Along strawberry rows aligned in history
Those corridors of time in endless days at play
And there she stays a fair young maiden
A constant unknown wonder to this day
Entered in - "I Love Rock N' Roll" Poetry Contest 11/14/14
Inspired by: John Lennon and The Beatles
The song: Strawberry Fields Forever
Traveling feet,
Trudging the sidewalk.
Every hundred goes not seeking,
Single soul sees.
Across through,
The foggy misreading of appearances.
Heart simulcast emotional bond,
Welcoming home inwardly.
Walking the pavement,
Thousands careless bypass,
Giving time no,
In numbers of large,
One says yes,
"I see-feel more."
Friendship,
Only a few,
Love for others never need much,
Listening soul of sharing,
Being who one is all along in breathing,
Knowing,
Passed by not in this life-saunter,
Because enough fills the spirit to live in,
Partaking breath of union,
Memory freeze of happiness joy to live & carry on-
“Of all flowers, methinks a rose is best.” – William Shakespeare, The Two Noble Kinsmen
Sweet Rose, for ages you have blessed the human race
with your beauty, elegance and grace.
You show yourself to us in so many ways . . .
as miniature, teacup, floribunda, rambler,,climber, and
as so many other species of loveliness - a true wonder of God's creations!
Whether on the ground, in the wild, in gardens, or on bushes,
you bring me such pleasure to see your many shapes and sizes.
Unlike pansies and other annual flowers,
which glimmer for a time, then die – never to regrow,
you come and you go, sweet Rose, continuously
from spring, through summer, and until the chill of fall.
Oh, sweet Rose, with your names so charming,
I love you all.
With female names like “Princess Diana,” “Lolita” or “Bathsheba,”
you intrigue me.
With names that reflect the splendor of your many hues
such as “Toffee,” the pale yellow “Sahara,” the bold “Gold Medal,”
“Beyond Blue,” and “Black Magic,”
you enchant me.
With cute precious names like “Adorable,” “or “Angel Face,”
you delight me!
My muse reawakens each spring as your glorious scent
perfumes the air, and you offer yourself to the worshiping bees.
In those rare moments when I see a hummingbird
partaking of your nectar, I nearly gasp with excitement.
Oh, sweet Rose,
whether posing steadfastly in the summer sun,
dancing with breezes, or dreaming beneath the moon,
there is no flower so popular as you.
And no other flower bears so many different meanings
as those found in the paleness or in the vibrancy of your many colors.
Innocence is your white; your friendship, yellow; your modesty, peach;
In burgundy and dark pink, you show forth admiration;
in coral, good fortune; and in light pink, the cheerfulness of youth.
In the tint of amaranth is your passion; in rare green, your freshness;
in purple, your whimsy; however, your ruby red
transcends them all with the purity of love.
The deeper your hue, the deeper is your meaning.
You are the symbol for so many things of which the poet dreams!
Oh, sweet Rose, I adore you. How you inspire me
with each bloom of your dewy petals that I chance to view.
Never do you cease to amaze me, sweet Rose.
May you blossom ever sweetly into eternity!
I don't know that love
needs a face and place –
inclined to think, not;
but I do know love
needs a heart, often
set apart from the rest
of us – just to be clear
to those quite dense,
confounding the spirit
with a physical sense –
love is our source,
and not what we find
or become – love is
not a wager won
or a dare taken...it is
a gift given, and soul
freely partaking –
Once a year we have Homecoming
At our church and we celebrate
With relatives, friends, and neighbors,
Whom we have not seen of late!
What joy just sitting together
Singing the songs of long ago,
Worshipping God and praising Him-
The one from whom all blessings flow!
O, the beauty of tables laden
With a feast from God’s bountiful store,
And what a delight partaking-
Filling our plates with more and more!
It’s a wonderful time of year
When we renew the ties that bind,
While worshipping God, and fellowshipping
With friends…what amazing peace we find!