Best Passionwords Poems
Through so many poems I tried to explain.
I've tried to paint a picture in your brain.
Through my words we've popped champagne.
I was your Tarzan and you were my Jane.
Through my words I've tried to take your body beyond this physical plane.
You were my honeycomb and I was your candy cane.
Through my words we've made love in the rain.
You came, screamed my name as I entered your domain.
Through my words I was serious yet I tried to entertain.
Your heart is what I've done my best to obtain.
So I pray my words were worthwhile,
And I succeeded making your heart smile.
*Here's for you sunshine....
far from here and never worn.
“It’s red” I mused.
She giggled or anticipated.
They were words, not words
as they can be words
said to break the ice.
“Yes, it is” with a broad smile
then hid her lower lip
behind her upper teeth
and lashed down expectantly
waiting for my mouth
would say no more
words more than icebreakers.
And it was a song,
and I saw
she hadn’t known
as I hadn’t.
Only dreamt.
Of an island.
Or a better
Amish world
on a Vangelis
tune promising
creativity.
Those are words of course
as they are words and no more.
She also knew to do the dishes;
not to wet me she pushed with her pulses.
Hey, I saw you smile in the uncommon mirror
when I kissed the curve between your neck and shoulder.
I’ll paint you in despair because I cannot as you are,
although I think I know a lot as you do and cannot
hold me in your words, only in the no-words
between the lines where none can find
me or you in my hemp abstracts.
A negligee is easier and says a lot
which is why I said it’s also red
and can be seen and caught in that word
so openly pregnant of many no-words.
She doesn’t iron, she folds. That’s a secret
not unknown under women.
Or men.
04/08/09
The writer I am in my dreams
is more sophisticated than I am
and sees the world as an untold story
I mainly see the footsteps behind me
Where I stepped softly so as not to call attention to myself
this writer conjures volumes about the man on the bus
who has a scar on his face five inches long
she elaborates on his life with gifted prose
he is a pilot shot down in Vietnam
guerillas gave him a scar and set him free
he used to be a lion tamer
that one is self-explanatory
I simply cannot stop staring at his scar and wonder
does it bother him to have such a mark?
The writer I am in my dreams
has perfect time management
goes to work, attends class
has a beau
moves from day to day
finds time for friends and play
hobbies and exercise
dance class and likewise
the writer I am in my dreams
her words are clear and precise
they don't feel like empty thoughts on a page
they don't sound immature
her words and statements work
they don't get in her way and make her mind spin
and conjure up thoughts of self-worth
they whirl around the room and
whisper about the unimagined
they dialogue with rhyme and wit
and they always converse graciously
the writer I am in my dreams
I wake up and pray to be
and sometimes my prayers are answered
Sunlight shines within the folds
your red and orange hues display
your brush upon the canvas spoke
of beauty words could not relay
Lost within this burning flame
I'm wittiness to the joy you saw
the beauty of your fire etched
within this heart now left in awe
Inspired by Brian Strand's Picture Poem contest
Red Canna 1923 Georgia O'Keeffe
http://www.artinthepicture.com/paintings/Georgia_Okeeffe/Red_Canna
"I found that I could say things with color and shapes that I
couldn't say in any other way - things that I had no words for." Georgia O'Keeffe
Whisper not into the night these words I can not hear.
For I'am but a vision, Tell me while I'm near.
Whisper not into the night these words I long to hear,
But tell me them in your voice, and place them upon my ear.
Whisper not a remenise of which I can not see,
But show me what it is by heart, of which you want it to be.
For we are in a vision of the night, And here I will always be.
Whisper not into the night. A wish of disregret. For I'am but
a vision, stuck in side your head. Till the end of time I shall
always be. For you are but a part of my soul.
Not just a whisper in the night.
The secrecy that ad-libbed by the muteness
Embraced fervency aroused by the speechless
The darkness that mildly faded by the moonshine night
He gently took hold of time
Holding her by his arm, softly he lauded
The moment with rhyme –
Three melodic words as he whispered
Broke through his heart and spoken by his eyes
An adorable smile shared by her
That touched his essence longed beyond time.
Soothingly he crossed his arms by her back
And slowly and slowly…
They adhered themselves nigher
No more words uttered and benumbed their breath
They stormily gazed themselves
Throbbing of the heart, the only fathom eared.
Blink of lashes felt upon by the adage intimacy
Bedewed by secretion when two lips sensed the legacy
They prolonged by the eroticism that shone,
He slowly and softly eased his hands
And allayed her by her dorsum, which upraised
Her desires with eternal dusk that kept on.
A kiss of betrothals on her forehead
Whispered by drops from her eyeses
And wordses were bespoken by the affair of silence,
He slowly and gently held her across her waist
By blink of an eye they fell upon abreast on the rose bed
Where the secrecy lingered by the comeuppance.
A kiss of attachment on her neck
Pulsed by innate reflex of her body
And tepidity elicited by the adhesion.
Longanimity of love felt upon by the quest for lust
Peeled by the vehemence when two body conjunct by their essence
They made love by the sound of their gratifying whispers
And sometimes a smile was shared
By the presence of affirmation and touch.
Wallow in their squeeze on the bask shed
They rollover dearly upon their ardent bed
The running away time failed to apprehend
They abstracted themselves
By the renascence of ignition with glows of love.
The secrecy then ad-libbed by the muteness
Embraced fervency aroused by the speechless
The darkness that mildly faded by the moonshine night
That actually met the dawn by the running away time
They were benumbed by the naive realism
And upheld their sensualism by the moonshine bright.
These words are my hearts song
I bleed a script on how I feel
The sanctum, to which I belong
Harmony, hate, peace, and love are strong
I am not limited one emotion
These words are my hearts song
Un-veil the scroll of my life’s bond
Enter my lucid mind, over-flowed passion
The sanctum, to which I belong
Inspired by events of breaths prolonged
To exhale, you first must inhale
These words are my hearts song
Burning in my heart so long
This here pen is my ember
The sanctum, to which I belong
In my Eden of words, I do no wrong
With an idle quill between my fingers
These words are my hearts song,
The sanctum, to which I belong.
*Miranda Lambert*©
Started: 4/11/2011
Finished: 4/18/2011
Poetic words flowing so naturally,
On this soup of aesthetic candidacy,
Epic verses releasing from one’s soul,
Touching the heart of young and old,
Radiating love with each comment,
Yare ideas to be shared in our convent,
Soup filled with ecstasy and despair,
Optimistic outlooks eager to be shared,
Unbelievable stories from people all over the world,
Poetic words now unfold from the minds of both boy and girl.
For Adeleke Adeite's Poetic Picture Contest
love to sit and write
not a poem
not a song
just for fun,
words that ease
words that comfort
words I just want to let out
when I'm sad, mad or just for fun,
not a poet nor a writer
just liked pen to paper
now... a write on the net
to you to others for any one to read,
you see this is my mask
these are my thoughts
you see letters not who I am
to you just foolish stuff to read,
here others fill the same
here we only know each other by name
out there on pavment we do not see
it's just other people like you and me
but no one says the tears that flow
the smell of a red rose nor in her arms love grows
there mask tell of another story and sheilds who is inside
hides the pain, the love, hides for we fear they'll laugh at you and me
so here I sit, I read, I comment, and fingers to a key board I write
to no one really just to let others know we are not alone
that we all fill, we all cry, love dies and the pain subsides
and when I am done I hope it helps I hope another...knows
not a preacher nor a saint just someone who wants to let it go
someone looking for better way and here I know there are others like me
who just want to be listend to, heard, who just want to know the not alone
and this is why in the box that reads form...I write I do not know.
The words He spoke fell upon my ears and rang throughout my mind.
The words did echo a joyous sound within my head's confines.
His words wiped clean my slate of wrongs and calmed my horrid fears.
And As they took him with intentions of harm.
I felt my eyes let go a tear.
And within my heart then burns a fire it's flame it does not yeild.
It stokes the glowing embers that lay within my soul
And fills my being with love and yearns for passion still.
I watched from afar as he took a path, one chosen by none at all.
A rocky path of sweat and blood upon which he knew He'd fall.
Not once nor twice but three or more his face did strike the ground.
Each time he hit I felt the shame and the fears of those around.
The weight He bore was of many, mine included too.
As he walked a path not taken by any where he died for me and you.
David Gary Pennington
I was in study hall doing my homework when it first
Manifested and it was as if I was possessed for my
Pencil had a mind of it's own and the paperwork
Formerly known as Algebra became excited scribbles
Darting back and forth and up the sides wherever
There was any room and as a wry grin appeared
On my face I began to realize what I had been
Jotting down on little scraps of memory had indeed
Come full circle after all these seemingly long years and
I had been using words purposely!What a revelation!
I remembered the shoe boxes full of words that sat
High up on shelves,secreted away from prying
Motherly or brotherly eyes and gotten down
From time to time to be examined with careful
Scrutiny as to what events and pictures in my
Mind's eye had been deciphered or thought of
And still I did not know there was a real term
For what I had been doing all this time in my
Young life and now I knew as I approached my
Seventeenth birthday that besides being afraid of
Teenage boys,report cards that weren't up to par
And hard-nosed parents who found grievances
Everywhere it seemed,and early development that
Embarrassed me,I actually had something awesome
Going for me in my troubled life-I was a poet!
**for contest "Epiphanies"
sponsored by Desiree Birdseye
I WILL STAND UP AGAINST THE WORKS OF UNRIGHTEOUSNESS
STAND UP AND TAKE MY PLACE IN THE KINGDOM OF GOD
I WILL STAND UP AND TAKE THE WORDS OF CHRIST AND FEED THEM TO THE LOST
THE WICKED WILL NOT BREAK ME
I WILL STOMP THE HEAD OF THE BEAST AND LAY HIM DOWN BEFORE THE ALTER
SPREAD HIS ASHES OVER THE GRAVES OF MARTYRS
MAY THERE SOULS SING AND CRY TEARS OF JOY
I WILL STAND IN THE GLORY OF THE HOLY OF HOLLIES
MAY MY GOD look down upon me and see a child
He born through the fires of hell but broke through the chains and struggles
Now walking renewed reborn ready and willing
Waiting to lift my staff before my God
And bring the children home to the kingdom of the Living LORD
I stand to look into the eyes of my Jesus
May my name come to his lips
I walk to be a soldier of Christ
I walk to see his blood stained cross
So I may lay at his feet
May his sheep follow without despair
And fall down in faith knowing he is coming
I will stand and not conform to this world
But bow in honor to my king my rock whose words I and others alike stand upon
I am a profit of God
May his words spread from my lips to your ears
May healing come from my hands to your heart
May my dreams and visions ignite fear in the daemons that surround us
I am she who he resides within.
No him, have faith and love in him
Be anxious for his coming
And be washed with us in the spirit which he has called ALL to do
If you try and decipher the code, you'll see in my poetry;
That my love for you will explode, metaphorically!
The stanza's will demand release, and so I open up my heart.
My emotions will only increase, unveiling this poem like a canvas of art.
You'll discover a lover in me with a continuous burning desire.
My words in my poetry will have your luscious body on fire!
To cool you down my verbs in my words will be like ice.
In my couplet's you'll rightfully wear your crown, and live with me in paradise!
So as I D
R
O
P my heavenly bomb, be prepared for ecstasy.
This passionate heat will be like napalm, hoping to have you next to me!
Such an explosion of love, tearing your emotional defenses apart.
It's not enough, I must take your body and mind above, just to win your heart!!
*Wrote for Catie Lindseys contest "Love Notes" Enjoyed;)
What will I do without you
I'm not sure what I would exactly do
If it was you I never could again hold
In fact without you now, my heart has turned slightly cold
I can see so clearly in my dreams, you and I together growing old
How would it hit me if I could never again hear your voice and how it sounds so alive and free
With a few spoken words from you I would be so inspired
That's because I accept you are my very souls desire
That flame still burns where only you could light that fire
How will I make it if it's you I could never again see
And with looking in you eyes I could vividly see, no words needed to be said for it to be
known how much you were so deeply in love with me
Through it all we have always been meant to be
So what will I do without you if you forever went away
Just like I am now, going crazy and insane each and every single day
But while it's you I so greatly miss
I know in my heart, soul, and mind I am a strong woman and that I've really been through
far worse than this...
...but then again
I honestly can't recall or remember just how or when
Tonight I wonder,
will I ever be a poet?
I'm a good writer,
sometimes I don't even know it.
The words come to me naturally,
and some of them I don't
even know what they mean!
I love to write
everyday and everynight,
about the things that happen in my life.
I really hope I become a poet,
it's more than writing to me.
I think I have talents
most people can't see.
Poetry is my passion,
it helps me think.
I write the words I feel
in beautifully colored ink.
I hope someday to become a poet
so that people can see,
the true poet I really can be.