Best Promenades Poems


Premium Member A Question of Love

Loves promenades towards emptiness
	longing is a void
darkness of a million universes
where mythical black holes
chant of timeless desires

Yearning for carnal eternity
where candles never die


Two of us
	never met
	oceans apart
	gasping for affections
	in different times
	winds may have swept
	this way or that
	never seen

Wind and candle lie in death
so lost
in emptiness

Premium Member A Picnic With Pablo Neruda

Four legs quiver
like clumsy cabrioles
striking smooth gray rivers
of zig-zag sidewalk barrios
in rhythm with happy shivers
syncopated on a muffled drum
as we talk and stroll

On our way
hand-in-hand
we persuade and pretend
this day away
taunting and cajoling to demand
laughing “hide and seeking”
chasing and skedaddling
poking and peeking
like cuddly pandas
or canoodling otters
splashing and clambering

We roll and meander
impetuously twiddling all the way
atop gregarious green promenades
we pause in slight delay
as we prattle and prance
as we dance to the Crickets singing
nodding to their fiddling
frolicking with all the jiggling

Serendipitous stalks
of snickering flowers pop
to dazzle and razzle our wits
we glide in stripes of candy bits
of rainbows bright

Purple painted paisley
fragrantly flairs in pairs
of scented lavender sweetness
among black-eyed daisies
dusting the woozy air
in a meadow’s billowing bloom
sunflowers sunbathe in costume

We giddily tarry
as we carry
a feast of fancies and treats
artsy bits of charmed delicacies
filled with a peck of upcoming kisses
enticing fantasies that wink

Snuggling shenanigans lead us astray
as we find our rootie-tootie hideaway
hugs as we shy away
from tomfoolery jesting
to lay down and swoon
looking up at the soon to be stars
lingering for the coming of the moon

Murmurs of Starlings
gaggle their harmonies
of chirps
in cheeks and broadened beaks
thrumming tiny melodies.

Swallows sweep and woo
fixated on this unabashed swain
through songbird strains
announcing a shrilling review
broadening in sweet refrains

“I love you…I love you”

Fingerpainting the Monet sky
puffy white cotton words appear
from clouds passing by
while tiny violins spin in the air
piccolos peep
pigeon-toed Doves coo and weep
their contentedness to appease
trailing off the pleasant breeze

I fall upon my knees

My words explode to strew
like a thousand storms set free

“I love you…I love you…I love you”

Premium Member Painter

Painter

My life was painted
Long before I arrived
I follow the paint brush
Alone, left to surmise
If I belong in a painting
Or on a road to nowhere at all
Life is so black and white
Colors have faded away from eye sight
Along the promenades of loneliness
Were no able painter would stay
I follow my destiny, as I
Gracefully fade away


Premium Member Oh Sweet Spring


And a thousand birds chant harmoniously, shrill and vibrant,
Bringing spring to forest creatures and urban dwellers;
Come out, come out and breathe the air,
Drink in the azure sky and the golden sun.

Every tree is bright and fresh and standing tall,
Flowers are uncurling and uncoiling in the warmth and light;
Go down to the deep sea and listen to the waves crashing and roaring,
Hold hands and skip along the beach young lovers.

In my kitchen garden the hummingbirds have returned,
Just look at those whirling, twirling wings;
Keep open and uncluttered all the windows and let the breeze in,
Let us leave memories and thoughts of winter winds behind.

Moonbeam evening and sun bright morning promenades are ours,
Nothing is more enjoyable than the perfume of spring to make us hum;
Oh, my heart has been weary waiting,
Put away all winter things.

Quietly bends down a weeping willow tree in the park,
Rest below the shady branches all the day and dream your dream;
Soft like velvet is the grass upon the cheek,
The meadow blossoms within our dream are calling us to come.

Up and down the fields we run like children again,
Valleys lush and emerald green for miles and miles and miles;
Winter snow and chills are gone,
Xmas yuletide is but a distant memory now.

Yes, oh sweet spring has finally arrived,
Zest, joy, happiness and delight is ours to enjoy.



______________________________
February 14, 2015

Poetry/Abecedarian/Oh Sweet Spring
Copyright Protected, ID 02-640-759-14
All Rights Reserved, 2015, Constance La France


For the Premier contest, Abecedarian, 
sponsor Shadow Hamilton, Judged 03/2015

Second Place

The Lady of Whitelace Castle

Into the inky darkened elegance 
of moon’s hushed serenade
Within the clove of stately elms 
her presence soon promenades;

The Lady of Whitelace Castle
dressed in a grand and stately manner
shimmers about through frosty limbs
causing many to flee in terror

She brings with her an afterglow
that blushes the unearthly scene
she remains, to some, a welcomed guest
to others an astonishing dream

This lady in ghost white apparel
drifts about from tree to tree
searching in vain for love unattained
perchance could she find it in thee?
 
© Debra Squyres 2013/12/30

To Kahlil Gibran's Flower

I am a kind of word spoken by the voice of nature
I am the element flying gracefully on a green pasture
I am a silent child in Summer and the brave child that Winter has believed
I crown the opening of the golden Spring and a gentle heart that Autumn conceived

I caress the majestic body of the flower as she announce the coming of the light
At nocturnal melodies, I dance with the birds on their lonely flight
The plains are full of the vibrant grace by those lovely flowers
As I embrace the early morning lovers

I cradle the spirit of the one who drinks wine
As he promenades with the swaying leaves of the vine
I am a dulcet entity whispered by a faint death
I am the little joy sang by a saddened health
I am the air breathed by a living man
and a mysterious knight to a crying little one

When the flower look high to never see her shadow
I escape through a broken, dusty window
To uplift her when she will feel me blow


Premium Member Hanan Al-Hroub

Hanan al-Hroub


Hatred will never destroy an enemy
A path to victory can be garnered with roses
No one wins the heart with a gun
Another day of tears, dying children fulfills no cause
Nourish the heart to renounce violent ways

All the fruits of the garden shall then be reaped
Lovers should be free to walk the promenades and flowery streets

Hatred will only destroy you from within
Robbing you of dignity, dreams, making days grim
Overtures, a symphonic army of music
Underscoring the resolve to make them feel the human bond
Bountiful is the reward, when love unites

Premium Member Spring

Brisk as a breeze
Lunar new year installs;
Festive cheer punctuates

~~~~~~~~~


Smiling faces exchange
Auspicious greetings;
Mandarin oranges

~~~~~~~~~


Red packet gifts
Good fortune and peace;
Happy thoughts

~~~~~~~~~


Chinatown tryst
Colorful promenades;
Spirit of joy

~~~~~~~~~


Dazzling fireworks
Festival spirits sculpt;
Auspicious message

~~~~~~~~~


Wonderful blessings
Extraordinary feasts;
Family celebration

~~~~~~~~~


Lunar year deposits
Goat ushers more;
Contentment mingles

~~~~~~~~~


Ancient calligraphy
Auspicious messages;
Gold words on red paper

~~~~~~~~~


Listen now
Laughter and cheer;
Celebrate new joys

~~~~~~~~~


Another year older
Wiser perhaps;
Sync peace of mind

~~~~~~~~~


Time to reflect
On peace and joy;
Discover good fortune

~~~~~~~~~


Here's to joy
Let peace attend;
Abundance stays

~~~~~~~~~


Yu Sheng feast
Shouts of joy;
Fortune galore

~~~~~~~~~




Leon Enriquez
23 February 2015
Singapore

Today I Can Remember

I remember yesterday, 
You became human through breakfast and poem
As if desired to be a transfused memory
Next to where I discarded you,  

Unnoticed, a incomplete short story, 
Some lack of narrative.

I remember the nurse, 
White coat without credentials, 
Red hair shampooed in stale cigarette smoke,
Clutching the clipboard of your entire heritage,

Found deliverance in the small print,
Words specify to remove any victims.

She commented on your mother’s eyes,
Eyes that stole comfort from the terrible silence 
Locked away in a basement basinet.

I remember you, delicate
Wrapped in fluid before violence
Wrenched through the vacuum
Without the assistance to life

That removes mother from mouth,
A force to bring color to limbs.

You ceased before your name
No vigil or mourning hymn,
A eulogy that never existed until today.

Outside of the womb,
You borrow your brother’s smile
So big it forces eyes closed,
A sister’s laugh promenades 
Echoes through empty rooms

Your mother’s steady red pen
signs your goodbye.

I remember today,
You pour from ink across
Thought to paper in some act of cul-de-sac penance
Frozen in my body as fear pours
Concrete through bone marrow cinder blocks,

I remember that today I left you at my Father’s feet,
Away from white gowned cannibals
Who feast on the science of little ones.

Premium Member Happiness Promenades

Uncovering the earth, as the snow finally fades
Sunny days; bringing, aesthetically soothing jades
Towns spring to life, with congruent daily parades
Simply enjoying life, in its moments and decades;
Words following free; in poetically wild chardes
A deck of playing cards filled with hearts; and no spades
When the evening sets its sight the joy, it still never degrades
Fulfilling; is discovering; when happiness, promenades

Elephant Banquets

A large pile of elephant excrement is neither resembling a tortoiseshell coat or a brown handbag but playing dodge ball on a busy motorway could be considered to be akin to a wonky attic vibrating at over 10000 kilowatts a second. Dare to cross a spade with a diamond. And hearts often laugh in a club house city. Ooh wow a calamity clam jumping around. Greatly releasing a board game over an icy rink. Terminate then germinate. Pointless picking puck ups playing poker. How remarkable the dark maroon moving grinning bush. With shades. Trying a terrapin waltz should not ever be attempted in a casserole dish. For beans have eyes and hair and roll roll rolly round and round. Particularly on angled blades of grass. Next in the line is a warbling wheel. Placket of a packet packeted and peckpockpick. Dancing with a mane. Whooshing through atmospheric conditions and pressurized promenades. Always the lark of look. Always the dim of dinner. And now go eat a dim sum bracket wearing a long sleeved pullover whilst chatting to a very pleasant and personable flower. *** floristic fauna frantically feeling fakes *** gun grab geraniums ghostly got grabbed *** underground undergrowth uniquely underwent underwater. *** unification *** ha ha ha centrepiece of soul. ***

Premium Member The Ruba'Iyat of Creteil Lake - Part Seventeen

The Ruba’iyat of Créteil Lake – Part Seventeen

Of late the tepid cold only rebousse poil her coyness
Nowhere the slushy mud caked into strands of crunchiness
Even the over-mothering coots let their chicks roam all alone
Sand and soil slop in swishing puddles down her tress fullness

Darkness bloomed along her gamboling Riviera façade
Window-panes like so many cryptic poker-face cards invade
While amber-lit promenades reflect once debutante gaiety
Now swans sail in wanton jerks into the late evening jade

Cocky sea-gulls from far-off cascades spurn the land-locked lake
Screech and caw like white-crows and bully bread crumbs from swan beak
All over her borderless skirts droop stems and stalks fading downcast
And the froth and foam gather at the Prefecture’s northern gate

Was she ailing in the meniscus all summer to icy spring?
The promenade of choice girding the Prefecture like a sling
Stayed slammed and riveted with the gate gutter over-flowing
Some said ‘twas the asylum seekers broke into the building

To rob official stamps and cartes de sejour to gain false entry
Others less scrupulous thought Omar the culprit roaming free
Said some the Procureur made out a writ for his instant capture -
Abetted, said they, by the Resident Maid – our Bard sans country!

© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2014
© T Wignesan  Create an image from this poem.

~ (~) ~ ""hold On!"" ~ (~) ~ (Part #3 of 4) ~ (~) ~

The generous character-carried-by them good-old-girls-and boys down-home country-copper-
roof-all filled-up-silos-wheat-turbines waiting ready outside the barn deer-skins pegged down 
low the greater-story askant-of curiosity carrying the pureness of a child as to why... . 
Smoked-up hickory-honey-bubbling bacon saged-up getta-gingerly-popping in the grease in 
the skillets over the steadily-flaming-logs and-built-up-kindling ... .


Humbly growing up little farm-houses-rock streams-made by-the freedom-of-the-patient 
hand-Bibles-on the-table in every-dwelling-place blessings of praise-that really gooey gooey 
fudge-brewing slow... so-slow.


Cooked-up-apple and peach a plethora of assortments of berry pies cooling their lively smells 
lifting up-and-drifting-about the grassy timber woods and hills in every available-window-sill 
home made-ice-cream sweet-taffy-candy-moonlit-walks-with a real good friend-crawdad 
hunting with my-Pa and Uncles cousins and Brother Sisters-Grand-Pa... . Stars parading along 
on by with the sky's Moon-hovering-above casting the morning-stars-gentle, and-somewhat-
kinder reflection on-the-slumbering-land of crawler's... .


Our flashlights lights perusing cast-all-about searching-for-them... junker autos rumbling and 
rolling off one distant-street-corner-easy childhood-days-rising up to greet-you laying-down 
weighing in the balance-as the tender moments... ease-on-by.


Time my only vestige welcomed salvation, greater my safety-grace happily promenades-
about-the fringe-of the-day... . They ride-their-way-along-enchanted carried along churning 
away-by the glimmering-crystal-streams motivated by-the-chipper woodland-winds... . My 
faith, in-its relevance, emancipates.


Fragile, honest... willing... no time for resentment-innocence runs free now merrily skipping 
with me across the meadow.


Gracious time the noble gesture freedom the-patient-journey-sown-of-humble yes the 
truest divinity as patient-just yes-the devotion for all-through grace-made-open-my hope 
remains willing-white cotton clouds captured in their lea way dancing two and fro remind 
me even-more so... .


"Kill them with the virtues' of kindness" as my Father always said.






http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=x6rYPHmSzcE&feature=related
© James Long  Create an image from this poem.

Pantheons Burn

Hot the lost lovers rage 
Walk within pantheons of gilded brigades
The passions roar as idolized lost sages
Of some immense meaning 
In supernatural things 
Without rhythms or reasons
Of a fathomless being 
Walking destiny’s configured trails

The streaming of consciousness
The breaking deluse, the midnight furor 
Of these dreams that spiral 
In the palm of his hand 
God conspires grander plans 

He is robed in the tempest of storms
At his heels Hellborn legions swarm
Liquid steel towers as it rises
I spoke with the lightning as it strikes
as it burns the night
Lighting the blue living white light 
Glittering in chroma
Theory of furies mechanical is the beast 

Dark winds come from the lost eons east 
Turning across the vacant rooms of vast lands 
In something now past the seams 
It seaks, pondering rage 
A love so strong that carries an age 

Its spires the engines of hearts carnage 
The foundations are wrought  
Feel his furies in the aftermath 
Cooling in a man’s Crimson bath 

Hot with the lost 
Pantheons burn
Gilded in chrome rooms 
It demands infinite being 
Has divinities seen the walking man 
Naked and afraid traveling distant lands

A coil of this labyrinthian, parade
Marches to the metronome 
Something promenades
In the shadows of methadone
Monolithic in spires shadows 
Cast as the time expires
Expiring in the aftermath of yesterdays

As the pantheons burning bright
So to ends this night

Sea of Sweetness

Honey did not leave me,
Just robbed me of my sweetness.
While scarlet desires still emanate from the evergreen memories,
Under the moonlit sky,
I mourn over the ascetic turmoil...
Like an invisible shrine,
It has become the bastion of our prayers,
Like a plenary indulgence,
It has effaced the objects of our affection.
Seldom do I tread on lustrous promenades
The tall trees with slender alluring fingers
Call me in repertoire
Like silky waves on an already tainted beach,
Heaven must not be pure,
As heavenly deeds are always veiled by nonexistence and retrospection,
The fruit of love 
Is,since ageless times ,
The coveted poison,
The guardian angel of broken souls, 
That puts to sleep
A hollow existence,
Forever freeing from the futility in the form of Life.
© Iman Roy  Create an image from this poem.

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