Best Perhaps Poems


Premium Member Perhaps One Day - For Avatar

(a Triple Triolet)

Where blues and purples dominate,
Pandora beckons from beyond.
Entranced by it, I gravitate. . . 
Where blues and purples dominate,
a way of life to celebrate
and with creation, share a bond.
Where blues and purples dominate,
Pandora beckons from beyond.

There stands a tall strong mother tree,
and mountains float upon the sky.
What many wonders you can see!
There stands a tall strong mother tree
inside this forest fantasy;
take hold a huge bright beast and fly!
There stands a tall strong mother tree,
and mountains float upon the sky.

Perhaps one day we’ll understand,
as did the one named Avatar,
to live in peace, stand hand in hand.
Perhaps one day we’ll understand
to say “I see you;” love our land;
no need to leave and travel far!
Perhaps one day we’ll understand
as did the one named Avatar.

Not a strictly romantic movie, but it involves love of nature as well as a romantic part between the leads. And I LOVED this movie and its message!
For  Nicola Byrne's Movie Mania - Romance Poetry Contest

Premium Member Perhaps Not the Mountain

Perhaps not the Mountain -

Perhaps even not the lone hermit, atop said mountain...
sitting as still as tea leaves, left in their jar.

Perhaps not the Mountain.
So unneedful of needs.
Of deeds.

Now moving as imperceptibly, as slowly, as wakefully
as the ‘still’ tea leaves, damp on the saucer;
unfolding like mornings in morning’s new light.

Perhaps not the Mountain.
So unmindful of mind.
Of mankind.


Perhaps not the birds, resting in nooks in rookeries
by snow lines and greenlines. 
Perhaps not the lizard or sheep,
one sharp-edged like the low-edges of shiftrock,
the other white-topped like lost-edge of the hightop.

Perhaps not the leopard, rare as the swear
from the hermit; still stretching...
out her morning.

Perhaps none know the mountain
is a slow wave
of Earth.

A Slow Wave

come crashing 
    so slowly into
shallower Earth.

A great primeval upheaval.

Perhaps

When I can see you in their eyes and not grieve, perhaps I shall heal.


Premium Member Perhaps Doria Ragland's Thoughts

Doria Ragland, Meghan Markle's mother
  



As you exchange those precious vows,
I view the scene through happy tears--
white lace, your prince, sweet looks of love,
broad smiles, no signs of nervous fears.

When Blues and Royals coat and grand
Givenchy gown are stored away,
real life together will begin.
Your choices will be wise, I pray.

Remember, please, the promises 
you've made today; and always keep
them faithfully. May your love grow,
and may you laugh more than you weep.

My dear, you’re now a Princess and 
a Duchess. More importantly,
you hold the title “Daughter.” That’s
the one that means the most to ME!

Dear Harry, you’re a Prince and Duke;
some day you could be Britain’s King.
Also, you are a son-in-law--
to ME, the most important thing!

You’ll face some challenges unique
to royal couples. There must be
a tie that binds you through it all,
that LOVE so clear for all to see.


June 9, 2018, entered in Alexis Y's Fairy Tale Poetry Contest

Perhaps My Dreams Are All I Have

My dreams of us are all I have, uncertain if ever the day

For us together seems so remote, with you so far away

I fear our love may never see, the rising of the sun

Our chances seem so awful slim, and falling close to none


My want and desire to be with you, stays heavy on my mind

And ways our heart can join in love, I desperately search to find

But maybe the love which live in us, will never be what it seems

Perhaps we’re destined to be in love, but only in my dreams





Written in Queens, New York -AUG 2011

Premium Member I'M a Poet...Perhaps

My poems are simple
Composed of simple words
Understood by simple minds
Because I have the same kind.

I do try to read other poems
But often can’t find the rhyme
Missing the meaning somewhere
Pulling out my hair (if there was any left there).

They must be very good
Others seem to rant and rave
I wish I understood
Artistry of which I crave.

Sometimes sentences run on and on
I can’t tell where one stops and another starts
Adjectives pile up on one another
Beautiful words indeed, but my mind they simply smother.

I am a simple man
I do the best I can
I like to rhyme my words
To some it seems absurd.

I am expanding my mind
Replying to others in kind
Enjoying many, I will admit
Others, half-way done I quit.

I think I’m out of my league
I thank you for humoring me
It’s a passion I cannot leave
I’m a poet – or, so I believe.
© Joe Flach  Create an image from this poem.


Premium Member Perhaps in the time voters will realise they made a huge cock up!

"Politicians are a lot like diapers. They should be changed frequently, and for the same reasons." Mark Twain . (For some reason bizarre this is my favourite quote ever)

Trump is now POTUS
'electoral dysfunction'
stormy days ahead!

Premium Member Perhaps I Knew

One slow motion jagged tear
found me after you left me here.
Its wetness still sits upon my face
as I stare at absolutely no place.

What I do live and what I dream
and all sundries fitting in between,
now struggle in a frenzied dance
passing thru, in and out, this circumstance.

My brain is mush circling a clueless groove.
Surely, I need an enlightened next move.
Calm failed to enter when you shut the door,
and life as I knew it quit being anymore.

I simply cannot find my identity.
Maybe it left with you and my clarity.
I seek to ease a primal urge to shout
at frenzied thoughts dashing about.

Perhaps I knew years had grown weeds
while I prayed for fertilized love seeds.
Perhaps I knew time long held this bleed
while I prayed true love would succeed.

Premium Member PERHAPS, A POEM

PERHAPS, A POEM 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Pondering in silence before the ink descends
Outward expressions of creative soul
Evocative whispers on pages reside 
Monument to human condition chiseled with words, line by line

Premium Member Perhaps

evil's agenda is furthered most by those who are right but hateful




June 9, 2020
© P.S. Awtry  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member a few chuckle perhaps

Talked to a fisherman
He said he hadn’t had a bite in days…so I bit him


Hickory dickory dock
The mice ran up the clock
The clock struck one…
If he clears concussion protocol he’ll start tomorrow


Mary had a little lamb
                                 …and mashed potatoes too.


One potato, two potato, three potato, four
That’s all I could afford so I walked out of the store

Walked into a church.  There sat a tethered parrot on a perch.
With a wily rasp he asked if I could “un-tithe” him


Purchased a pack of condoms
The sales clerk said: “that’ll be $6.95 plus tax”
I replied: “forget the tacks, I’ll tie them on”

Premium Member Perhaps

Perhaps their hearts will forgive me
the many loves I squandered
   now an old dreamer's reflection
that floats upon the ripples that cross my mind
from the last stone of memory
I tossed into the dark depth of yesterdays
where the lost first birth of love's beauty
was kept hidden in the pealing trunk of carelessness

it's filled with old pictures of lovers
that posed for a brief moment in time
when romantic interludes were mistaken for love

my hands gray and trembling
turn each picture silently
remembering a world of sadness
and countless sunsets 
that fell between the thin red of empty dawns
and days and nights where nothing really lived

the heart, once a vibrant cauldron
of burning flames of purple passions
consumed all thought and reason
and left a crying melody
which keeps playing in the hollow darkness
of once upon a time where tears formed waves
that crashed the heart's barren shores
below the darkest sky of their tomorrow
Perhaps,   they have forgiven me

8/17/19

Premium Member Perhaps, a Poem

I watch sun slide into the sea and leave the sky behind.
Perhaps, a poem will beautifully slip into my mind.

A fierce storm and then an arc gleams above the glen.
Perhaps, a poem of peacefulness pours forth from my pen.

I thrill to spy a group of deer that from a brooklet drink.
Perhaps, a poem then flows onto a blank page from my ink.

Emotions, whether good or bad, can flood me like hard rain.
Perhaps, a poem spontaneously springs into my brain.

News of human degradation and of deprivation -
Perhaps, a poem soon takes shape and shouts my indignation.

The sight, sound, touch and scent of one that I hold dear -
Perhaps, a poem of tender love will magically appear.

Reflections, recollections, things I believe are true:
Perhaps, a poem from my soul informs or inspires you.

Perhaps

~

Perhaps…it is the light, 
reflecting in symphonic visions from dampened roadways, 
serenading my heart in melodies of whispered thoughts, 
painting lyrical lilacs on a gray canvas 
with fraying edges 

even as clouds connect the sun, 
I sit alone, on a worn leather seat,
fingers tapping the steering wheel in rhythm with
the endless miles connecting my cultivated dreams
with pictured fantasies that may prove to be just that…
fantasies

yet I look, 
optimistic eyes perusing spring fed corn row wishes
and sunflower sonatas, 
which my heart faces with fevered emotion 
and anticipation of each new coming day…

(constantly aware of roadblocks set up 
along the shoulders of your heart)

Distractions come as an eclipse darkens the sky 
or is it my heavy eyelids causing the detour, 
yet my soul is alert to the possibilities
of what might be waiting behind that locked door
where silence allows me to hear your words…
written in the wee hours of the morning

an invitation to share this morning with one who matters,
one who touches me, one who feeds me
with a simple hello and a cup of coffee
or something more…fantasies become realities…perhaps

PERHAPS, A POEM

PERHAPS, A POEM Poetry Contest 
Sponsored by: John Lawless 
Contest Judged:  9/25/2025 8:50:00 AM
( 14th Place )


Perhaps the wind will turn today,
or perhaps it will drifts elsewhere,
keeping the echoes of what we never said
if quiet were not already there...

Perhaps the rain will choose to fall,
or perhaps it will hold its tears,
leaving the streets unkissed and all
our waiting hearts postpone in years.

Perhaps I saw your smile at sunrise,
or perhaps the night was weaving deceptions;
perhaps what is gone still lingers
and perhaps we gather more than we notice.

Perhaps, my words are not enough,
yet still I write, in quiet prose...
for perhaps a poem is just this:
a maybe that nobody knows.

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