Best Prompting Poems
POTD 6th August 2019
The clock ticks down the passing day
Tedious seconds count down my existence
Time for my pills ~ Time to call the nurse
Time ~ taunting my resistance
Soft haunting strains of a violin float
sweetly liquid, melodiously unchained
freeing my mind from weariness faced
No barriers ~ it flows ~ unrestrained
My world of music I lived it ~ breathed it
In whispers ~ it spoke to my Soul
bringing with it, adoration and glory
and a passion beyond my control
I glance at the painting on the wall
pondering this feeling of déjà vu
Memories of this glade from before
Triggers mentation I need to pursue
Memories flood ~ a vision in the distance
an Angel dancing in its midst
who had danced with wild abandon
lucent skin the sun had kissed
How I had yearned to dance with her
with that angel who made me sigh
she had come to shine her own pure light
prompting my spirit to fly
But there’s no girl there ~ awry is my mind
And I’m but a frail old man
I must erase thoughts from my life bygone
And prevail however best I can
~ Every great dream starts with the dreamer
who ventures where mortals dare not tread
And laughs with mirth and cares not for
unfinished rhapsodies playing in his head ~
What’s this? I’m suddenly in the glade?
A strong young lad once more
She has come for me, my Angel love
I leap - I twirl - I soar
We dance with wild abandon
We dance without a care
sun kissed skin our arms entwined
Wild flowers everywhere
It seems I’ve left the world behind
And unshackled my attachments of
A hundred birds do sing out loud
To watch us Dance to Love
by Maria Williams
Thank you for listening and watching this video.
Video arrangement, production, direction
and compilation:
Ron Williams
Video editing, sound mixing, graphics:
Jayne Hartanto
Part 1 and Part 2
Narrated by Kelvin C
If you like my video please share and subscribe on You Tube - thank you
Copyright © August 2019 Maria Williams
POTD 6th August 2019
Categories:
prompting, romantic, tribute,
Form:
Narrative
Fading sun elaborates
Tuscan yellow tinges
As vibrancy floats
Lavender on periwinkle
Embossing clouds
In shades of amethyst
Granting scenic vision
Atop the red bridge
Suspended in perpetuity
From vermilion towers
In resplendent posture
Sounding final appeal
From the complacent sea
Echoed by morbid hills
Seducing her fragility
Prompting her to leap
Gasping last breath
Fearful and perplexed
If there's solace in death
July 5, 2018
Placed 1st in standard contest #100 by Brian Strand
NOTE:
Since its opening in 1937, estimated 1,600 people have committed suicide by jumping from the Golden Gate Bridge in San Francisco, California.
Categories:
prompting, nature, suicide, sunset,
Form:
Free verse
If the sun married the rain - It would become a rainbow (quote by poet)
This aquamarine aquarium is a prismatic prison,
reflecting a reality of a pseudo persona
and I've become tired from pretending
behind this veil of pantomime portrayal
just like the mind of 'Kurt Cobain.'
I hunger for harmony,
desiring for juniper and jasmine,
to weave and wrap their tendrils, tenderly
around an alchemy of angst,
but my shroud is a burdensome blanket,
like a softly spoken voice in a nocturnal nightclub.
I shiver in the sunshine, soaking from secretive
somber storm clouds, creating an autumnal aroma,
so I'm wondering why it's raining in summer,
weeping on fading misty rainbows,
prompting me to pour like a tropical monsoon,
reflecting it's spectrum shadows like
red poppies under a crimson nostalgic November,
orange embers from a dying bonfire,
yellow pages of a forgotten book,
green moss covering a timeworn tombstone,
blue jay upon wilting royal forget-me-nots,
indigo horizons slipping into midnight and a
violet velveteen silhouette in a dimly lit basement.
In windswept moors all I wish for,
is for you to allow me to rest upon your blossom,
like a raindrop - even if it's synthetic.
I'm forlorn in a fathomless fate,
where the Grim Reaper sits on
his throne as the king of kismet.
He was once was an unseen predator,
but now, with enchanting enthusiasm,
he's playing the organ in my hymn of death
Its musical pattern keeps repeating in my head,
like recurring nightmares.
But when turquoise tides return at dusk,
I hope to wash upon your bronze shore,
shimmering like a trail of neon planktons.
I can't keep blaming the pain,
so let it pour... And let me live.
Categories:
prompting, angst,
Form:
Alliteration
Poetry can be a critical liaison when words are fashioned,
that do not please the beholder's eyes.
I'm a poet without a pen, weaving woes on a digital canvas.
Forgive my rhyme-less heart, I've sinned in murky metaphors,
lost in my own sea of thoughts, with 3am rants and riddles,
composed in sleepless synonyms from this insomniac mind.
But if it wasn't for poetry, would I have felt his love and deep compassion?
For within his sonnets, I've found my poetic savior,
cathartically soothing these inner demons.
He is now my muse, my reason to rise and write, becoming the lyrical antidote,
prompting my fingers to type beyond just tainted thoughts,
showing me a reality that tastes sweeter than the fruitiest cocktail.
If it wasn't for poetry, I wouldn't have known,
that there's more to this life than diamonds and gold.
I'm now an accidental poet beautifying pain with colors stolen,
from sunsets and moonrise, across his faultless skies.
Categories:
prompting, deep, emotions, for him,
Form:
Free verse
Blood Red Moon
Deep devouring passions bleed now from this solar eclipse
As black blood flows from an evil army of “undead” beings
Whose fangs hideously and cruelly pierce the veins of their
Mesmerized and unsuspecting victims who are held at bay.
In such silence burdens prowl inside deep sad heartbeats
As ghastly living shadows creep eerily in and knot the
Tortured guts of a twisted scared bloodless life falling
Under the dark macabre gaze of the Blood Red Moon.
At night uncanny black magic spells are intoned in the
Old Latin scripture as large spider webs cast a gloomy
Presence and envelope now all those trapped by them as
The misted breath bleeding hearts howl to Heaven’s roar.
Standing upon a rugged and lonely mountain crossroad
There can be no release from the devilish glare of the
Vaunted “Blood Red Moon” whose evil presence pervades
Every breath you take and casts a demonic derisive stare.
My senses are now frozen in place as a deep chill shakes
My soul to the very core of its primordial existence as I
React to the cutting cold of a dawning maleficent darkness
Invading every corner and space of my psyche and existence.
The wicked jaws of a rabid beast seek now to bite and rip
All beauty from me and all thoughts I hold close and dear
As I gasp now for life and painfully feel my tired heartbeat
Slow as my immortal soul numbs and cries crocodile tears.
I’m cursed now to walk alone forever as my spilled remains
Are cut now and my ties of human existence have disappeared
Putting me on the ground on all fours as I ponder my ultimate
Fate in the hands of a supernatural force beyond any mercy.
As the shadow of Lucifer’s Blood Red Moon passes over my
Tortured face I spy a look at one demonic siren prompting me
Now to follow her as my body is placed on a sacrificial alter
And my life ebbs away as I’m kissed by spirits of the damned!
Gary Bateman and Liam McDaid – A Collaborated Poem
Copyright © All Rights Reserved – October 11, 2015
(Narrative Quatrain)
Categories:
prompting, dark, evil, fantasy, halloween,
Form:
Quatrain
Blood Red Moon
Deep devouring passions bleed now from this solar eclipse
As black blood flows from an evil army of “undead” beings
Whose fangs hideously and cruelly pierce the veins of their
Mesmerized and unsuspecting victims who are held at bay.
In such silence burdens prowl inside deep sad heartbeats
As ghastly living shadows creep eerily in and knot the
Tortured guts of a twisted scared bloodless life falling
Under the dark macabre gaze of the Blood Red Moon.
At night uncanny black magic spells are intoned in the
Old Latin scripture as large spider webs cast a gloomy
Presence and envelope now all those trapped by them as
The misted breath bleeding hearts howl to Heaven’s roar.
Standing upon a rugged and lonely mountain crossroad
There can be no release from the devilish glare of the
Vaunted “Blood Red Moon” whose evil presence pervades
Every breath you take and casts a demonic derisive stare.
My senses are now frozen in place as a deep chill shakes
My soul to the very core of its primordial existence as I
React to the cutting cold of a dawning maleficent darkness
Invading every corner and space of my psyche and existence.
The wicked jaws of a rabid beast seek now to bite and rip
All beauty from me and all thoughts I hold close and dear
As I gasp now for life and painfully feel my tired heartbeat
Slow as my immortal soul numbs and cries crocodile tears.
I’m cursed now to walk alone forever as my spilled remains
Are cut now and my ties of human existence have disappeared
Putting me on the ground on all fours as I ponder my ultimate
Fate in the hands of a supernatural force beyond any mercy.
As the shadow of Lucifer’s Blood Red Moon passes over my
Tortured face I spy a look at one demonic siren prompting me
Now to follow her as my body is placed on a sacrificial alter
And my life ebbs away as I’m kissed by spirits of the damned!
Gary Bateman and Liam McDaid – A Collaborated Poem
Copyright © All Rights Reserved – October 11, 2015
(Narrative Quatrain)
Categories:
prompting, dark, evil, fantasy, halloween,
Form:
Quatrain
I was once a thief, never done for Stealing guns,
or knives. Money, laundering offences, or Somebody’s wife.
I robbed God of tithes that I must pay; I was alive but a dead man
Walking, not at my fullest potential in anyway.
Oh yes! I had God’s blessings and favour alright,
But limited to what I could have done without effort
Or fight. I withheld what’s not mine, for a period of time,
Now I got the revelation (Mal 3:8-10) that it’s really not fine.
If you leave a comment it’s entirely up to you, free speech
Make all your opinions known. But that’s under the law
It has no trace, and I say if that was the law what should
I be doing by grace.
I’ve made up my mind to do things God’s way, due respect
To the opinions you’ve given today. That won’t change a thing
God’s ways are best. I’ll go with my inner prompting and block
Out negative reasoning and the rest.
I’ll give the first fruit not as a law but by faith, and watch the
Windows of heaven open before it’s too late. God promise
To disperse the financial curse, and restore what the devil stole.
When I obey biblical principles, I’ll sure receive a hundred fold.
First fruits offered by Abel a more excellent sacrifice than Cain.
The same applies to me whilst done in Jesus name; God’s intentions
Are pure laid out that I would gain? His principle of the kingdom
Are here to stay, I’ll embrace the fact and do it anyway.
Categories:
prompting, faithgod, god,
Form:
Winds were among first to notice
Fragrant air blowing fresh breeze
Stemming from your pristine vicinity
Extolling prospects of your visit,
Announced by the birds in flight
Message circulated far and wide
Into the emerging scenic twilight
Pushing far away the opaque skies,
Cotton clouds then adorned charm
Scattered in ways of scenic art form
In orange hues peeking from blue
Amid aerial vistas painted for you,
Sprinkling rays on mosaic colors
Layers of fabric spun florid display
Anxious for you to take your step
Into this arena of majestic stage,
But all that passion suddenly erased
Prompting egress of darker motifs
When sun plunged below horizon,
Dismayed that you never showed up.
April 12, 2018
Placed first in contest 515 by Brian Strand
Categories:
prompting, longing, love, passion,
Form:
Free verse
“instrumentalising mind, I rested thought
employing it only when needed
shifting to heart, I became self-taught
gentling touch, voice of conscience heeded” ~ Unseeking Seeker
When thoughts purge in restlessness,
we pause the frequency of the mind,
allowing the rhapsodies
of the rosemary heart
to compose lyrics of
life in sync with sandalwood serenity…
I am a gossamer ribbon,
drifting across
caliginous cloudscapes,
like a delicate trace
of greying gloaming,
listening to the eerie requiems
ricocheting through the horizon.
But am I to follow the hypnotic lies,
perpetually prompting
my thoughts to ink
crimson confetti of confusion?
For the heart is the window
to the crown chakra,
awaiting the alignment of seven stars,
where the mind remains a mystery,
unreliable and capricious,
like the wind carrying
the sound of raging rain tonight.
O celestial maestro
of the cosmos and beyond,
let fears dissolve into ambient waves,
rippling with rejuvenating radiance,
reflecting seraphic light
from the crooning currents beneath~
tempestuous tides,
while I unchain the confined
chambers of my persona,
to unravel the alchemist within,
that knows not the
dying colors of dusk and dawn,
and reveals emerald auroras
in hibiscus harmony,
amidst the moonless
serenades of the sky~
in sync with my stained consciousness.
So let the dancing dreams
and the divine spirit
manifest through bleeding intuition,
as I open my arms to the sun
singing within his euphoric siesta,
there lakes of lotus ebb and flow in
ethereal themes,
transforming jinxed juniper lilies
into joyous jasmines,
and my voice shall mirror
pristine peonies,
scented with mystical musk,
where the fickleness of existence
is liquidated with lavender scriptures,
for my heart is the
empyrean haven for northern gems,
guiding the glass kayak of survival,
refusing darkness to mask
the kundalini mantras within
the alluring aura of life,
rehearsing self-fulfilling prophecies,
to illuminate silhouettes of
the galaxies in crystalline clarity.
Categories:
prompting, dance, dream,
Form:
Free verse
Within the dark mystery of evening,
he listens to two interchangeable discourses
One the gentle persuader, the other, life's ultimate blamer.
Troubled by these seething exchanges,
both conscious and unconscious currents resound,
As the master's inner thoughts boom,
pounding into trails of indecision
with wired quizzes on his mind.
In silence, he weighs dark and light perspectives-
question left unanswered in the din
of reflection,
and through gradual flow of spontaneous musings,
Logic nags his cerebral strains-
scientific, structured assessment of matters which do not really matter...
Somehow, amid the debate where reason pauses with the fragile voice of instinct, the heart remains silent
offering gentle hunches revealing the
wisdom born from honesty, truth...
Slowly, this inner prompting arises
as the master in quiet introspection
realizes: the mind can lie , pride is ego- based ...but the heart, can it in conscience cope with deceit?
Categories:
prompting, integrity, introspection,
Form:
Verse
When the night is filled with questions,
and the sky is a jeweled blanket,
I sit on the deck of my water room,
listening to the waves flirt with stillness,
and the breeze ~ caressing the green of palm leaves ~
in an island of romance, where the heart sings
in sync with the music of nature.
In all that quietness, I see a flying star,
a flicker of golden sparks across the horizon,
and I let my eyes rest , as I breathe unwritten questions...
~ O shooting star, must I wait another fortnight
to catch a glimpse of your blazing bliss?
You need not wait, my shadow stays with you, when the world grows cold and distant..
But am I the only one, healing and hurting,
placing empty promises on your ephemeral essence?
O beloved dreamer, you are not the only one.
But in your thoughts, I hear an aching poem.
How do you see, when the faces I knew, forgot to trace beyond softened smiles?
I am just a meteoroid, leaving a streak of sizzling light ~
I am no wish-maker, but a fragment of divinity, a design of Almighty's grace.
Ah, and in you I see my muse, prompting me to write.
I wonder: why do I not see you in daylight, when the sun sits on its throne?
To see me when all is dark
is like hope sailing in a heaven-sent odyssey.
Lord knows why your silence calls to me~
as if I were a sign of faith…
They say you are anything but a star~
dust and rock, dancing through the air.
Is that true, O glorious glow?
I am everything a dreamer would dream of.
For you, I will be your rhyme and metaphor,
penned within purple pages~
a riddle the ones who do not feel
can never truly comprehend…
Thank you, perhaps , it is in your neon afterglow,
I will thrive as the silhouette of a shooting star...
Categories:
prompting, fantasy, silence,
Form:
Free verse
Grim is the threat of extinction...
Now unveiled in Trafalgar Square
a sculpture to draw attention;
it contains a message to share.
There’s on show a clockwork statue.
Grim is the threat of extinction
prompting another hot issue
making pleas for a solution.
There’s the need of urgent action
to save the lions in decline.
Grim is the threat of extinction;
now is the time to draw the line.
Let us not be caught in slumber.
May we act with true conviction.
The big cats are down in number.
Grim is the threat of extinction.
-------------------------------------
Categories:
prompting, loss,
Form:
Quatern
Inside a barn long since made into a chapel,
The congregation sits on wooden pews among the calves.
Maybe others a dog or a cat or two,
Creatures two legged,
And ones who stand on all fours come to rest...
Perhaps play and eat their meals for the day.
Man, woman, beasts together in a special hollowed place
Bow before and PRAISE THE LORD.
For none can forget that our Savior was born in a mere stable.
In tribute to that special night and that special morning,
Now here in Farm Chapel you can hear the angels saying,
"GLORY TO GOD IN THE HIGHEST, to baby Jesus our
King of all that is and is to come. AMEN."
Southfield Chapel is located in Lancashire England
Farm Chapel is the first of two poems written at the
prompting of my beloved friends Pastor Barry and Dorothy Dickinson.
Categories:
prompting, animal, appreciation, beauty, bible,
Form:
Free verse
A paradise rare beckons,
cradling our shadows’ whispers
to draw fine lips upon mine…
while tickled moon peeps.
How gently wild passion blooms…
when hands caress each other
in a flame of surrender,
razing a night’s heat.
And ember’s scent lingers on
prompting rose-moon to quiver
till our eyes greet , anew
you gaze…I wink back.
Into love’s final blooming ,
we vow under hazel trees
names etched on sand, as Cupid
marks a sweetened rite!
Sweet Valentine Contest
For Nayda Ivette Negron Re-posted 1/28/2018
Categories:
prompting, emotions, joy, love,
Form:
Dodoitsu
SOUP SAFARI
, , , ,
here I am in NYC...packing after a safari –theme night party
with Soup members two nights ago, filled with awed revelry.
shrieks whistling on linked arms during a photo shoot,
as live cheers of Constance and Andrea went “ whoot!”
while Debbie and Michael hosted “Tag, you’re ‘It’ “games
bringing Nikko and Sara to compete in spelling members’ names…
I still remember Robert H. reciting his comic spiels, what a blast!
our jaws locked from clapping at Dr. Ram’s impromptu dance act,
till Kashinath segued into a sitar rap in his flashy jungle attire
prompting Linda to donate PM prizes, much to our hearts’ desire.
on our table, an exciting blend of brew amped repartee’s pitches
amused by Brian fleshing parts of short forms without glitches,
enter wacky Sydney applying geographic values to long verse usage
with footnotes on how worlds expand over time from poetic vantage,
oh, how Gwen sparkled with pleasantries as cups of jokes poured
most memorable of all, the warm personal shares of soupers' world
that drew us closer as real people with scraps here and there
recalling red-cherry days and funny bloopers’ wear and tear…
and as I leave from 8th street hailing a taxi to catch a plane,
notes and album tugged this heart, anticipating next gang’s chain.
copyright
, , , , ,
DEDICATED TO P.D: get well soon and take your daily dose your soup!
*notes: with admiration for soup members included herein... all in the
name of pure fun!
* Gwendolyn Rix, Brian Strand, Sydney Peck, Myself
* For Michael Falotico’s Table for Four/ P.D Soup Contest
* by nette onclaud
Categories:
prompting, happiness, holiday, people
Form:
Couplet