Best Pours Poems
At a table in a garden, on a soft, sweet, summer's night
Two friends are sitting talking by the moon's reflected light.
On the table in the garden there are glasses but no drink
And the friends are sitting talking, but they often stop to think.
The topics that they cover seem to range so far and wide
And the glasses sit there empty, since they left the drink inside.
The night is getting cooler but the friends stay close and warm,
The moon just looks down calmly, she has magic to perform.
As he leans across to kiss her, and she kisses him as well,
The friendship starts to blossom into something more to tell.
The tension in the garden needs assistance to decline
So the silver crescent of the moon leans down to pour white wine.
In the silent night, when the moon pours its silver over the world,
I walk through the garden of shadows, seeking lost echoes,
I do not blame your steps for not staying,
But I accuse myself, the one who sought harmonies in your song,
The one who sought signs in your silence.
I do not blame your hands for crushing the butterflies,
But I take the blame for offering them a garden to rest their fragile wings,
I, the one who believed that seasons could be reborn from ashes,
The one who dreamed that the heart could be bandaged and restarted.
I do not blame your departure,
But I take the blame for loving a stranger,
I, the one who believed that love could break all barriers,
The one who hoped that your eyes would look back, even once.
I do not blame your indifference,
But I accuse myself for not being able to free my heart from its cage,
I, the one who wrote poems on the edge of an abyss,
The one who believed that perhaps, in my madness, I would be heard.
I do not blame your silence,
But neither do I blame myself for not ceasing to love,
I, the one who carried an unwritten story in my soul,
The one who sought answers in the stars and found only shadows.
In the silent night, when the moon pours its silver over the world,
I walk through the garden of shadows, seeking lost echoes,
And in every breeze, in every rustle of leaves,
I find a part of myself, the one who loved without asking for anything in return.
Grace in-pours, if in God we trust
The welcome mat is laid
Erst ego cravings bite the dust
Ascension ready made
As bliss pulsations race
We see God face to face
In endearing embrace
Open doors
Grace in-pours
27-August-2021
Quietus
When It Rains It Pours
Idiomatic sayings are such a delightful way of expressions,
The truth in them may sometimes stretch our imagination..
When it rains, it pours is one such expressive gem of wisdom..
When troubles in numbers mirror realism in a weather phenomenon..
Here in Bolehland widely hailed as a Land of Endless Possibilities...
Ernest concerted efforts are put in place to deny negative publicity...
Like minded politicians are staying resolute behind a highly ranked civil servant..
Whose exalted position demands he be above controversies as a public servant...
Electorates on the ground are increasingly befuddled and anguished each day..
As snippets of less than positive news and episodes are revealed each day...
It is widely accepted that the door of opportunity closes while another opens..
Likewise all tall tales of lies and deceit, numerous are the twists and turns...
Here in Bolehland, there is outright shock and disgust at the latest turn of events..
After months of in-depth investigative reports, no one could comprehend...
When the highest legal prosecution office in Bolehland triumphantly blared...
Despite the voluminous reports and papers, there was no crime to declare ....
The presumably guilty topmost civil servant was declared squeaky clean...
To top it all, he was so honorable as to have had returned millions unseen...
The gossip mill is rampant and unflattering over this latest seal of innocence..
More so when there are incoming news of global inquiry and investigations...
The court of public opinion is out there in the streets of Bolehland...
To the man in the street, he is seeing multiple acts of Houdini first hand...
But as the proverbial wisdom has so aptly been used when troubles abound...
When it rains, it pours, especially for someone in high office in Bolehland.....
To all interested, seat back and watch the melodrama as it unfolds by each day...
When it rains, it pours should hopefully reveal the elusive truth one fine day...
http://malaysiansmustknowthetruth.blogspot.com/2016/01/a-world-of-scandal-descends-on.html?ref=source
https://sg.news.yahoo.com/twists-turns-najib-rm2-6-230008097.html?nhp=1
orange glint of night
dipping on my warm bosoms...
through pours of sunset
like sparkling champagne...
the beaded whiff of mystique
dances on my flesh
End October Standard Contest
Sponsor: Brian Strand /center>
The young French maid pours tea
for the heartless Queen Marie-Antoinette
whose image Dunlop objected to paint...
because he must have hated royalty!
The young French maid dreams of liberty,
although she eats bread and her family
eats brioche': her oppressed heart must be free...
while walking in the eerie shadow of hostility!
Pour tea, pretty maid with servant humility,
never let thoughts daunt you and scream into obscurity...
your mean Queen will meet her fate at their hungry hands,
and her decapitated head will roll onto the streets of France!
Disrespect pours out of this child on a regular basis.
His classmates would like to see him float onto an oasis.
Where he could enjoy his company and bully himself.
Or high and far away, up on a three-tiered library shelf
That he could not yell mean things to them any more
This child is loud, nasty, racist and a ridiculous bore.
His classmates despise him, they do not know that his mother
Has never made him respect anyone, just like his brother.
When it rains it definitely pours with me.
Either I have way too much time on my hands for months literally,
or I'm so busy without any free time at all for months for anybody,
but more unfortunately, absolutely no free time for yours truly.
Yes, when it rains it truly does pour when it comes to me.
I guess I should feel thankful most sincerely
during times of "way too much time on my hands for months literally,"
because I'm often unemployed during those periods regularly,
but apparently, that still has not yet hurt me financially,
but I'm NOT rich by any stretch of the imagination,
so don't even think of trying to get a loan out of me.
I'm just your everyday hard working blue collar stiff,
who just happens to know how to manage his money.
You illuminated me in the midst of my own darkness
And shed on me a second thick skin
Saving me from the state I'm in
No longer bearing the resentment in my soul
A hardened heart made whole
Discarding the creeping evil cold
And so now I dwell a humble man renewed
Contemplating what next I do
I pray my answer soon comes thru
I've surrendered when you called my name
All my life now rearranged
All to bring glory to your name
I know I'm not perfect but I know I've changed
When the darkness returns to bring me to fear
That's when I know you are most near
And on my knees I know you hear
The plea of my fragile heart in pain
As I give it all to you again
And the light pours back in
And washes clean the stain
Surrounded by the spirits reign
This my Freedom forever
Cupid Pours, From Love's Golden Cup
Sad knowing thy heart was so bruised
Seeing deep pain in such blue eyes
Tragic, such kind heart thus abused
By deadly slashes in dark lies
Pray I, for soul's quickest healing
With a true love to soon arrive
For such brings, joy and new feeling
Pray again, thy heart feels alive
From this, my sad heart, words now poured
asked relief, thee sweet bird flown high
After flight of thee, wherein soared
Thy new love life, once gone awry
May Cupid pour, from Love's true cup
Truest of love's glows to cheer thee up
Robert J. Lindley, 2-23-2017
(Hybronnet)
Note: I finally remembered to write using this new poetry form, as I promised in a comment to Suzanne made on her great poem using this form.
Not written for any contest....
Tears make rising gloom
Flooded floor of self made doom
Sun enters room
Ocean waters now white capping
Cool breeze 'pon the shore
Every plant drips rain water
Then like Morton salt pours
Thursday, June 06, 2013
To her from him...
They say "when it rains, it pours."
The absence of your love is causing a mental war.
Since you been gone things just aren't the same.
Beneath my breastbone my heart screams your name.
It was just this morning I was going through pictures of us together.
My world was still storming and I wondered if I could shake this weather.
I just can't keep going on like this forever.
Why do I feel like a pawn in every endeavor?
I long for your caress but my emotions are in chains.
I feel this profound loneliness but only when it rains....
To him from her...
When the sun comes out, I feel you're nearby,
The sadness goes away, and the wind carries my sighs,
The longing in my heart, to just start anew,
To just kiss your lips and show you how much I truly love you.
A storm comes in and washes my face,
But every drop is with a tear that says you'll never be replaced,
Waiting for your love, just standing in the rain....
A collaboration with "Jimmy Anderson"
He wanted to write something together,
so off of his idea I wrote the second verse.
its nothing personal: inspired off my name slightly i think though.
… it pours.
The orange horizon embraced the sun tenderly
The wind groaned in disgust
Dashing into the swaying forest to put-up for the night
Puffing clouds chased each other up the sky
Screaming and flashing cruel rapiers
Piercing the sky heartlessly in their rant
All of a sudden
The sky wept
Tears of anger,
Vented for ages
And nothing was the same again that has been
created.
Cold rain pours today
The heat is put on early
Drenching wet outside
Longing to stay warm tonight
Dreaming of things to be bright
Heidi Sands
9/3/17