Best Propinquity Poems


Premium Member Soul Mirror Eyes

 
Written: January 07, 2024
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eyes are soul gates      even in disguise      they do not lie
visual cues that transcend verbal expression

but it also shares one's mood      with lenticular opiates
spanning an effluvium-trail-laden sky

select a person and share eye contact     while whimpering
gaze might betray a false grin          quoth-trust aegis

stupendous azure eyes!     aggregations of night elixir
spellbind the world with      an aura of simmering

wispy pearls in her eyes—soul rises without adronitis
I cross cosmic cloisters and Eden's bright bower

I grip men truths in their odd      dismal ways
the sheer number of words is overwhelming

once cupid arrows hit    a cosmic glow     covers the world
glorious       as sharpness of your sight      and dawn dew

her azure eyes purify and calm me      as oceanic waves
no drift inbred    ocean fowls flutter     feel felicity 

ethereal eyes whisper to my soul      sparkling with glee 
pristine eyes hypnosis     a wish for propinquity shine 

as the sun rises      shards of light reveal her eyes
dreams sap my mind       cocoons and eyes beguile me

after inhaling and kissing goldenly—all else is plain
all the grace I skipped—in the sun wind and rain

as dew at dawn chatoyant eyes embrace you
butterfly-like in gestalt     despite a sanguine heartbeat

those eyes are as sibilant as the rising sun
they send doves soaring      and senses roaring       

some eyes are drenched in love until they sparkle
delphic soul shy—untamed    my love never defamed

grateful for blue skies—for all—and blue eyes for you
© Sotto Poet  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member Ghost Town

It was
a dalliance
this bucolic lost town,
just ephemeral my visit,
petrichor scents of fresh rain, just fallen,
birds songs a harbinger of me,
oh serendipity,
efflorescence
caress.

I feel
the erstwhile past
in the vacant buildings,
the sadness an epiphany,
beyond nature calls my propinquity
but I stay and stroll empty streets,
redolent with flowers,
this demesne lost
in time.

____________________________
March 18, 2016


Poetry/Rictameter/Ghost Town
Copyright Protected ID, 03-769-605-18
All Rights Reserved, 2022, Constance La France

For the Standard contest, A Day In A Town,
sponsor, Nayda Evette Negron,  Judged 03/2016

First Place


Submitted into the Standard contest, Give me a Ricktameter!
sponsor, M.L. Kiser, Judged 02/16/2022

First Place

Premium Member A Senendipity Happening

I left my little bucolic home to spend a day in town,
A few hours of mere dalliance and shopping for a gown.

A mansion with demesne and a sale sign, caught my eye.
Such epiphany of grandeur I was unable to pass by.

I had ephemeral time to use, I would indulge my senses
With efflorescence from the gardens, always hidden by the fences.

The harbingers of Spring were there, the red robin and his cousins.
In propinquity they gathered and they numbered by the dozens.

The fresh air was redolent with the special scents of May
And the petrichor resulting from a sudden rain that day.

Erstwhile my man was waiting, and I knew free time was flying.
That serendipity happening had kept me from my dress buying.


Premium Member A Day In Pergamon


Demesne
at Pergamon
stirred an epiphany.
The Aqueducts, Acropolis,
propinquity, Temple Dionysus,
Trajan Temple- all so magnificent.
Persian, Greek, and Roman wonders;
some standing, most lying...
erstwhile kingdoms,
all gone.

I viewed
and imagined
robust efflorescence
that once filled this bucolic place.
Dalliance here, much too ephemeral.
Damp ruins- yellow soil stirred petrichor.
Wild grass, broken art; redolent
grave serendipity...
wars...harbinger...
of loss.

     
March 20, 2016

~1st Place~
Contest: A Day In A Town
Sponsor: Nayda Ivette Negron
Judged: 04/14/2016

Required words in order of appearance: 
demesne, epiphany, propinquity, erstwhile, efflorescence, bucolic, dalliance, ephemeral, petrichor, redolent, serendipity, harbinger

Infinity Till Eternity

In the serene nights with starry skies, 
With you on my mind, I realize. 

Beautiful soul, you're so pristine.
Perfect are you, your love divine. 

Oh my dear, you're so adorable. 
Each moment with you, unforgettable. 

In all our minds, some flaws there are.
Undeniable expectations,  all wide and far.

Not even on the west risen day,
Your expectations could I meet someway.

I grieve, I cry, in my heart's uprisings. 
Dejection takes control virtue my shortcomings.

My subconsciousness though, in tranquility remains.
Privileged I am, feeling of calmness pertains.

For I've known you, I've loved you, so warm 
and deep.
And gratitude for your reciprocation,  I do keep.

Name it not, what we have for ourselves. 
Why make a bond? When it's us, together it delves.

Let there be spaces yet propinquity.
But I'll be loving you, infinity till eternity.

- But a Moment Away -

she was amorphous,
shapeless and humble-
no ethereal sky could
release her self-assurance

her lassitude ran wild-
for she was weary since birth,
sacrificing what was never hers
for the chase of redemption

ceasing who she was to become
as i stacked sandbags against
the river of her sorrow-
created a dam to make sure
she would stay safe and dry

i wear propinquity like
a silk blanket as i start to
reminisce on all the opulence
she longed for

her insouciance was
a blithe nonchalant notion-
verses of fear prevail in
subtle solitude,
and
i am left without breath,
alone without the ability
to release what used to
be mine…
      ~for it’s always been her~

wrapped up in a floppy
cardboard box tightly 
wound with a dull ruby ribbon-
there was no way out, 
lost in a lopsided labyrinth 

laden in a tomb too coarse
to decay, 
she awaited the day disarray 
went adrift-
craving a heavenly haven,
abandoned and graven;
she weeps in woe – 
seraphs begin to pray...
for death is none but a moment away

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

1.) amorphous
2.) lassitude
3.) propinquity
4.) opulence
5.) insouciance

date - 1.29.20
Exalted Words Poetry Contest
Chantelle Anne Cooke

I chose these words because I thought they would fit well
with my theme of loneliness and sorrow about the sad life
my sister led before taking her life. I struggle daily, still, 
after almost 10 years. Each word uses the imagery of the 
emotions she felt dealing with depression and anxiety.
She was so sad and troubled, though the most beautiful 
woman I ever met.

(thank you for this contest, it was healing)


The Deaf and Passionless Leaves

I remember it so clearly,
The first time I saw you.
You said you loved my aviators.

Our meeting was so ordinary,
And having nothing witty to say
I just asked your name  
Standing in that long driveway.

Who would have thought
Two years later
I would be whispering your name
To the deaf and passionless leaves
Just trying to ease the pressure
On my shackled, poem-filled, heart.

Focusing each minute you're near
On the propinquity of the irresistible.
Everything about you draws me,
And I am always pushing back
Against that ever present urge 
To fall in love with you.

Premium Member Fabulousness - First Place Contest Winner

 
Quote: True intelligence requires fabulous imagination. Ian Mcewan
 ______________________________________________________________

In a realm of dulcet dreams, a tale unfurls,
Where fleeting moments dance with the sublime,
A fugacious world where time swiftly swirls,
And fabulousness transcends the paradigm.

Amidst the quintessential meadow green,
Where propinquity weaves its tender thread,
A susurrous symphony of whispers keen
Guiding souls to where bucolic dreams are spread

The cynosure of these demes is divine.
A solitary tree with branches vast,
Its leaves are gossamer, delicate, and fine.
A sanctuary where demure hearts find solace at last.

From its boughs, an elixir drips and sings.
A tincture of nature's sweetest essence,
An elixir that heals and renews all things,
A harbinger of peace and quintessential presence.

With each sip, pyrrhic fruition is won.
As burdens are shed and troubles are eased,
The soul is uplifted, the spirit is spun,
In this sanctuary, worries are appeased.

Whispers of the bucolic breeze parade,
Through fields of wildflowers and sun-kissed air,
Nature's symphony, the sweet serenade
A melody that bears hearts out of despair.

As the sun sets on this magical scene,
The demesne was bathed in hues of gold and red.
The elixir power, forever serene,
Leaving a lingering bliss, a memory that never fades.

Whispers of the bucolic breeze remain.
In the hearts of those who dare to believe,
In the power of nature's gentle refrain,
And the magic it can weave.
© Sotto Poet  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member Tiffany Brocade Taffeta

Written: November 09, 2023
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An allegedly assured affix
distracted by wistfulness
to assess arousal of anguish,
wherewithal shadows tackle by day
amidst thick mist, in propinquity dry wells.

carrying a titian heartbreak on my shoulder.
a gentle regret that is not a zenith dread;
brocade as taffeta, a bluesy lullaby.
spun from gentle yarns; weaved.

Striving to scale a sibilant soil surface
toward porous roots of sequoia
trapped by the force of gravity.
allow only tangerine tears to flow
from my sorrow.

Getting into the quagmire.
in quest of one's fortitude.
whilst waiting for syzygy perigee,
to occur on perihelion.
© Sotto Poet  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member Quest For Companionship

Written: October 1st, 2023
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If you quest for a mate, I'll be yours if you abide
Friends and mates, a loop that will never glide.
In close propinquity to one another, we will reside.  
With our motley efforts, we can swivel the tide.
Fused by the bonds of oneness, harmoniously we stride.
On this journey, zeal and passion will be our guide
An enthusiastic flame, that blazes deep and wide.
© Sotto Poet  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member A Part of the Past Frozen In Time

You can 
drive your whole life 
not look upon the face
of harbingers in spring wet earth. 
Remembering the ephemeral warm
Mediterranean summers
clean Petrich or fresh rain 
bucolic life 
setting.

Yielding 
a nostalgic 
propinquity city's
efflorescence dress brick building. 
The epiphany of an old church as 
it sings the echoes of erstwhile. 
Redolent warm feeling 
Victorian 
versed homes.

Yester 
years fine brushstrokes. 
Trees towering on the
outskirts of the demesne beauty 
Unique, intertwined dalliance with the
farmed and the wild a wonderful 
serendipity finds 
quiet hunger
of life.

3/31/2016

The city's two-block business district consists of the original brick buildings built in the 1880s and 1890s
I use to work in the Oakland School. They have left the very small town  the same, it's like walking into the past. It lays in a valley surrounded by mountains. A very old silo still stands where they use to burn the woodchips. Very beautiful old town.
© Eve Roper  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member If Only For a Day

Serendipity came into play, when I stumbled upon a gallery,
I was a tourist in a seaside town, shopping midst a vast array
while blinding rays of sun’s reflection, caught my close propinquity
In one window, several seascapes, bucolic seaside scenes
but, one small painting called to me,..a harbinger of all my fantasies
I cupped my hands around my eyes...and that was when I sighed....
It took my breath, and I was kept a captive by the artist's pride...

A lovely landscape of a town, the village of my dreams 
This very street now, whence I stand, but from a different theme
Redolent of days erstwhile of scenes, from time quite long ago
Before the tourists trampled ground, and shopped for souvenirs
This village poised, beneath the hills...turned back two hundred years

Where cottage homes wore faded frames, on efflorescence sands 
demesne spreading wild and free, and skies were azure bands
Narrow lanes branched far away from roads that went astray
dipping down to petrichor dunes, where grasses bend in wind
A general store and a blacksmith shop, and summer never ends
Seagulls glide with angel wings, against the afternoon 
The peaceful lift that lives within, how wonderful it looms...

With a dalliance of my own epiphany, ..my thoughts are wild and free
how ephemeral it would be if I could freeze this day
If I could pull it out to see and visit it...again,
If I could bring it back when I am down, ...this peaceful afternoon...

Where leaves would never fall from trees, so ancient in their sway
And the gentle slopes would never know cruel storms of winter days
Where tears would never fall, again, and age, a timeless thing
If I could paralyze this town, the way it was back then
If time could be my captive prize.....if only for awhile…

I'd smile, if once I were allowed, a chance, to step inside




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3/15/16  For Contest: "A Day In A Town" Sponsored by Nayda Ivette Negron
Required Words Used:
1.Bucolic 2. Dalliance 3. Demesne 4. Efflorescence 5. Ephemeral 6. Epiphany 7. Erstwhile 8. Harbinger 9. Petrichor 10.Propinquity 11.Redolent 12. Serendipity

A Day In a Town

Evening.
A harbinger,
the breeze is redolent
with petrichor. Soft rain begins.
Across my bucolic demesne, I see
My erstwhile dalliance’s town
Ephemeral it was
But such passion
lives on

That day
A willow tree
Where serendipity
Turned propinquity to romance
The epiphany of our love brought not
Open doors, but a higher fence.
Ancient love eons old
Recalled from my
wheelchair.

Jade eyes
Chocolate skin
Casualty of hate.
Granddaughter rolls me back inside
Efflorescence crunches under the wheels
Her eyes flit to the ebony
Young man down the road
Perhaps times change.
Hope lives.

4/10/16

Premium Member One Day In a Town

I had
a wonderful
dalliance one day in
a town -its bucolic setting
redolent of petrichor and roses.
It was in propinquity  
to a demesne where I 
saw the face from
my dreams!

He was 
a harbinger -
Sweet serendipity!
Where efflorescence clung to stones,
he kissed me; then came my epiphany.
In erstwhile days I‘d seen his face.
Oh, joy ephemeral!
I had kissed my
cousin! 


Written April 10, 2016 (checked by Howmanysyllables.com)
for the "A Day in a Town" Rictameter Poetry Contest 
of  Nayda Ivette Negron

A Countryside Walk Near Town

Harbingers...
   Bucolic Sounds...
     Efflorescence in Abundance...
       Petrichors of late Summer,
         Redolent of Propinquity to Creation,
       Erstwhile Demesne of God. 
     An Ephemeral Dalliance,
   Serendipitous Timing...
 EPIPHANY !
© Dan Cwiak  Create an image from this poem.

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