Best Passionwords Poems


Poetic Words

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....
Form: Rhyme

She Had Bought a Negligee

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 (A Response To the Woman I Am In My Dreams By Maxine Tynes)

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
Form:


Premium Member The Flame

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
Form: Ekphrasis

A Whisper Into the Night

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.

Moonshine Sensualism

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.


My Hearts Song

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

Poertsoup

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
Form: Acrostic

I Don'T Know

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.
Form:

His Words

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
Form: Narrative

Struck By Awareness

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
© Deb Wilson  Create an image from this poem.

Written Words

Words swirl around in my head
I starts and until I write them down
They just won’t end
Writing my words on paper
For people to find significance within them
These words are very real to me 
The emotions are far from being pretend
Some say you looked right into my heart
You’ve seen my soul
You read my mind
Just how did you know
You pinned my feelings to a tee
How again could you see
Everything within me
Here’s you answer as to why
The words that I write are my pain
I’ve seen you, yet not knowing you, through my own eyes
Just because we are different, don’t mean we are still not the same
Emotions are universal
They make the world go round
The silent cries of screams
Quiet is my sound
To often of times
The struggle leaves one
Lying on the ground
The hurt so heart wrenching
And so very real
Time is never ending
Life is what the pain will steal
So breathtakingly helpless 
Is what you will feel
Heartbreakingly hopeless
Devastatingly you just can’t seem to heal
So yeah,
I write my words of hurt and pain
On the pages of paper to share with you
Many will relate and they often feel the same
At some point of time
I do hope you find some sort of comfort here
Within my lines of worded rhyme
Perhaps they will help your heart and soul to let go and heal
Cause while they do help me get by
Most times they don’t really help mine

Soaring Hearts and Burning Flames

If my heart could soar then on the wings of your words it would
take flight, and with those words from the heart of you I would 
take comfort

If only the light in your eyes shone through the dark that
pervades your past, in time we two may find that light and feed
it with our hearts, minds and souls so that it may flourish into
a blinding beacon.

In time that light may fade and with it the feeling felt in our hearts
and yet the spark will forever struggle against the growing 
dark so that it may one day be re-fed. Refuelled.
Shared with others so they may see the light I see in your eyes.

But for now, let we two cherish that light I see in your eyes
the fires that burn deep will burn and immolate our past pains,
creating from the ashes a wholehearted future to be embraced with 
hearts and hands.

That light will then banish the dark, defeat it and bring us to a new
horizon in which there is only future, only the welcoming hopes of new
life, new love.
Form:

Take Your Place

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
Form:

Hoping My Words Will Find Their Way

The snow shining so bright from the reflection of the night moon in the winter sky
My mind drifts wondrously back into the past
Remembering so vividly of you looking so intently deep into my eyes
And thinking of how we thought what we had would last

We would hold each other ever so tight
Whether it was over the phone or we were with each other right there
During the day or deep in the night
It didn't matter cause we had one another, so we did what we had to do and took it at that 
without a care

Laying wrapped up side by side I could hear your heart beating along with mine
Those feelings neither one of us could completely hide
Those moments forever captured in time

Seems our thoughts of us lasting back then however, were wrong
So we had said goodbye and tried so hard to move on
But although hiding what I felt for you worked for awhile, I've been in love with you all along
True love never dies nor is it ever completely gone

I'm here in this place with all my regrets and misery
It all runs so extremely deep hitting my heart hard and ravishing my soul
All I know is that I need you here with me
I know I need to regain, over myself, some form of control

I sit here and wait for you
Hopeing each day, what I'm saying here, soon you may come to realize
Yes I do this partly because this is what I choose to do
But also because it's never ever too late and sometimes, to get it right, it takes many tries

I write my words within these poems upon paper, they are so truly how I feel
Here on these pages are what, to you, I still need to say
In some small way they kind of help me to somewhat heal
And they help me also make sure all my thoughts that are needing to be said
Don't get trapped, stuck, and lost within my head
And to insure that to you my words will find their way

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