Best Reverberate Poems
Images of children dwelling in developing world
In plight of poverty~~ some two billion strong,
Fly a flag of existence, waving distress unfurled,
Crooning mournful song: is this where we belong?
Struggling in parched lands of bared dreary sights
World they live in is the world they have known,
Where days of emptiness cede to dreary nights
Churning nightmares as dreams vacant bemoan.
Wishing upon an angel~ I would endeavor to plead
For turning places despaired into domains of hope,
For means to educate, learn skills, write and read,
For rewriting will of destiny, while striving to cope.
If I could bend sorrow and the fate of tomorrow
Seeds of knowledge I’ll sow in the dreaded woe
Marveling the fields of wisdom sprout and grow
As minds edified glow, defying misery’s shadow.
My wish for peace echoes benevolence spurred
As hymns of unity in the temple of goodwill toll
And calls of equity from endearing hearts heard
Reverberate harmony in euphony of sublime soul.
I wish upon a candle, for world to join a sing-along
Lauding pledges of love to spur the youth on and on
Cheering to acclaim: this is where the kids belong~
In benevolence of hearts, over seven billion strong.
June 13, 2022
Placed 1st: If Only My Wish Would Come True Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Anoucheka Gangabissoon
Silver shimmers
reflected by the sea
When dawn kisses each
silhouetted tree.
As sunrise pierces
fleecy clouds of blush
A canvass bides the
eager artist's brush.
Our Banyon bids adieu
to fowl in flight...
Their songs reverberate
in morning light
Attesting to the joy
each dawn excites
In explosive colors
which Sol ignites.
As breezes blow through
azure skies above
I share divinely Dawn's
sweet gifts of love.
12-24-21
'STRAND NO 1042' Contest~First Place~
Sponsor Brian Strand
Merry Christmas (Mele Kalikimaka) from Hawaii….Aloha
When rainstorm shadows
cast raven woven blankets,
entangling between
the boundaries of
fantasy and reality's reach,
we search for soft glows
from serenades of slumber,
where we embrace
the quilt of night.
In restless dreams
a dandelion soul yearns
to reside within the realms
of conscious thought.
Traversing towards
an enchanting valley
where fields of lilacs
and bluebells surround,
laying foundations
for rows of charismatic
cherry blossoms,
peacefully resting
among a myriad
of kaleidoscopic roses.
Above, azure horizons
reveal the naked sun,
whose radiance shimmers
upon sapphire waters,
delicately blowing
a refreshing breeze.
Lucid choral images
illuminate the mind,
with visions of
an ethereal epiphany -
too difficult to define.
Her heavenly muse
echoes a majestic lullaby,
beckoning hallelujah hearts
to oblige in beats of
unexplainable expressions,
so suppressed thoughts
bleed in turquoise waterfalls.
Barren lands
soak in reflection,
as distance decreases.
Eyes admire in
a silent reverie.
Enticing two isolated
soulful minds to
chant in a chorus
of hummingbird hymns.
An abundance of
amorphous aromas
enchant and enrapture,
as senses blaze into
passionate provinces
of aurora aspirations.
A ruby renaissance of
rhapsodic romantic
musings reverberate
string less symphonies
into the once,
charcoal chambers of a
redeemed, fluorescent
lyrical couplet core.
In ivory harmonies,
venturing upon a pearled path
not known to lovers before,
beloveds search for
a secret garden -
home to Michelangelo's
cathedral of paradise,
yearning to savour its
celestial artistic ambience,
but upon the
zenith of enticement,
unwelcome Lilith skies
slyly and silently encroach.
Heaven recalls her
halo shaped silhouette,
as petals agitated
by spiteful winds
fall into murky waters.
Feathers remain,
floating helplessly in
puddles of regret.
Smoke clears,
as clarity reveals
white concrete walls
with broken blinds.
Nature's beams
breathe a deep sigh.
How sad,
time does not care
for our dreams.
Old and ugly and well married is the visage
that I carry, and yet, there is another world
that keeps opening up its magic door.
It sends me notes and emissaries
that I could be,
I should be much more than what I am.
The first message, that I was aware of
came to me in the high desert where
I sat Walden-like by a pool trying to
get back to the source, I'm told, is
within us all.
Suddenly I saw a flurry
a mile across the valley floor,
a point took flight and became
a mystic preying mantis
that picked my shoulder as a perch.
Mid day church bells rang
at that moment and I watched
the sound reverberate
shaking bushes and trees
down the valley, scattering
birds and small animals.
Yet the mantis on my shoulder
calmly sat, cocked its head,
and in its eyes there was a question.
I replied to the mantis' query that
"I was old and ugly and well married and
I am simply not quite ready,
but keep the offer open and
I will be ready soon."
After a month of worrying that
perhaps I had gone too far,
in refusing to go through an open door,
I summoned it again.
Right there in my backyard I heard
a flurry and found a grasshopper perched
where you had perched before.
The question in its eyes left no doubt
it again was you.
I replied that I just wanted to make sure
that the offer you had proffered still
was mine to take.
You flew away as I explained that
"I was old and ugly and well married and
simply still not quite ready but keep the offer open,
and I'll be ready soon."
Years went by and I forgot the magic,
indeed, avoided magic.
I went to a marriage yesterday,
I sat alone, away from the others,
on a bridge, by a pond,
amongst tall pines and redwoods.
I thought again of the mystic mantis.
Suddenly you were there.
You came out of a crowd of happy guests
and crossed into my solitary space.
You touched my shoulder and my hand
and kept it there for the fastest hour.
We talked about nature and
books we had both read,
the giant puppets you made,
and about things
I'd never tell a stranger.
I looked into your eyes
and realized
that we had met at least
twice before and saw the familiar offer.
In my mind I pleaded for more time because
I am old and ugly and well married,
but please, please keep the offer open
because I'll be ready soon.
Suddenly you were gone.
My souls mutters in the muteness;
"Is my melancholy more melancholic than yours?"
I gaze across a bridge,
wondering which stream flows to you,
as nobody understands how
in the definition of lament,
I am a piano without a pianist
and you a harp without strings.
My heart is a weeping willow
within a godforsaken garden.
As the last blossom decays,
the image of you is fading,
resembling fallen leaves on soggy ground.
I don't belong in this numbness,
nor know how to explain why
my voice is lost in the vastness
of valleys without endless echoes.
I've forgotten what I wanted to say,
attempting to escape this maze of sorrow -
yet your words reverberate without resistance.
Pondering if your spirit will guide
me from this uncertain terrain,
I'm distracted by the silent hum of grief.
It hurts like an eerie lullaby,
unable to soothe the stillness of your ghost.
As silhouettes disappear in the dimming light,
I protect a fragile flame in your remembrance,
before withered leaves fade into ash.
Underlying the meaning of the beauty in the breeze
watching with apprehension as all good things tumble by
washing down a mellow yellow and the dust of the day
wishing white shoes were never worn in December
Pounds reverberate a helpless sound
sleeping on the floor with one eye opened
the road to redemption covered in soot
and it's been a long time coming
The river flows fighting against the tide
spirits slowly merging within holy waters
almost held without tears falling back in time
but the scars release and I finally see inside
Wishing Well by Juke55 @ Deviant Art
I circle from pale to shade,
countless steps
around the abandoned well.
Wasted wishes rest
in dried-up depths,
we perish
in its hollows.
Promises break
but wishes will wait
to be retrieved,
granted,
cherished.
When you were the promise,
you washed over me,
permeating sacred spaces,
shrouding my soul.
I searched your changing face
for symmetry and solvency,
longing for stability.
In wrung-out wrappings,
I chilled in your deception
as I clung to the warmth
of our inception.
I trusted you.
It was easy.
You promised. I believed.
I wished the same wish everyday
that love would last.
Now, I reel in my resistance to love,
an outcast of wreckage from your ravine.
Will I ever love again?
I want to reach in to divulge a deluge
of brokenness and betrayal.
I retrace your words between
the yesterdays.
They start as whispers
then wail in echoes
off impervious walls.
Each sanguine syllable a lie,
projecting sound into a chasm of darkness.
From the depths of the wishing well,
vows reverberate from my own lips,
gently rumbling then rousing
feelings of love turned to loneliness.
If one drop of water remains
to reflect only one recollected wish,
I may find my own eyes
not yours looking back,
and in the end,
I may learn to forgive.
Maybe I will love again.
written 6/2/20 for Silent One's
Promise Contest
Sometimes quotes are all that we leave behind... quote by poet
I told them I'm tired now
time stands still a casual acquaintance without breaths
death is not gracious just an unfaithful companion
sorrowful sombre soul slumbers
bound to uncharted waters I'm drowning..
loyal morning birds chant mournful melodies on repeat
strumming to heartbeats
mishmash medley of images reverberate repeatedly
regretful reminders
leave an emptiness behind
echoes float like ghosts..
I can hear a billion souls but I'm deaf free from those
bitter and remorseful ignorant uncultured
without realisation of words unspoken
what could have been should have been but was not
it's too late regret is an unfaithful belief
loved ones stare upon my grave shivers and silence
anguish and grief pain and relief
I'm paralysed
unable to rise
to wipe their tears and fears..
craving to have one more chance to make amends
to express my emotions to show greater devotion
it's too late nothing is immortal love we share only a memory
in times when my scent reappears smile that I existed
love with all of your heart..
I was never lost never found
misunderstanding led to impassive pretending
I became too preoccupied building walls
they failed to overcome and conquer
yet I was no fortress..
legacies left behind reveal with time
words written words unwritten surreptitious or controversial
unimportant for remembrance die with me
maybe grim reaper will listen...
My dearly beloved Sister in the Lord,
You surely are a great blessing to me and to others...
May this poem of tribute to and for you reverberate beyond our memories
Vanquishing oblivion that lurks to prevail.
Blessed by God with eternal life’s certainty
Redeemed, enjoying the Saviour’s assured security
Imparted with divine nature toward great spirituality
Guided thru the Holy Spirit’s wisdom and authority
Instructed to live by faith, trusting Christ’s immutability
Driven forward to pursue the Lord’s will with sincerity:
A victor in the Master’s ministry; we salute you for your godly integrity!
Moved by God’s love in serving with grace
Empowered with His strength to win in the Christian race
Nourished fully with His Word along prayer-brace
Directed for stewardship’s faithfulness all her days
Optimizing the Almighty’s offered opportunities of no delays
Zoomed toward heavenly goals midst hindrances’ trace…
A servant* of God in His church; we thank the Lord for you and Him we praise!
This is a Birthday poem for this Sister's 59th birthday on November 13, 2018, with these notes: "Ma’am Edgie, A blessed birthday to you.
Your life, spent for the Lord, is really a great blessing!"
I posted this on November 26, 2018 (Monday here in the Philippines).
It was November 28, 2018 Poetry Soup's Poem of the Day.
I was elated to learn about it...
Then, after I had my class in the Bible College, I was informed that Ma'am Edgie was called by God to be with Him in heaven on November 28, 2018, at 11:30 A.M. (Philippine time). I bowed to God for His wisdom. Indeed, He makes no mistake. As for this beloved Sister, she will be missed... for her love to the Lord, to His work, and to the brethren.
*1Corinthians 7:22 For he that is called in the Lord, being a servant, is the Lord's freeman: likewise also he that is called, being free, is Christ's servant.
November 26, 2018
2nd place, "Last Letter to my Beloved" Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Silent One; judged on 12/16/2018.
The world was silent as they died
The victims of a genocide
Armenian blood considered cheap
Dehumanized, their wounds cut deep
Starvation in a desert land
A naked, bleeding, hopeless band
The relocation just a ruse
A Death March of rampant abuse
Few decades later, Hitler said,
“Forgotten are Armenian dead.
Perhaps I too can do the same,
for who remembers them by name?
I’ll kill the Jews, yes, every one!
The world can’t stop me till I’m done!”
Another genocide took place
For Jews, no favor, mercy, grace.
These horrors haunt humanity
But who can stop insanity?
Now Jews are on the killing side
They claim it’s not a genocide
Poor Gaza has no wailing wall
the bomb blasts made the strongest fall,
and wailing’s heard on ravaged streets
where children lie in bloodied sheets
From rubble rises stifled cries
a mother dies with open eyes
her arms still clutching baby tight
while blasts light up the Gazan night.
A father faints beside the grave
of children whom he could not save
And those who manage to survive
Must fight for food to stay alive
Though Israel forgot its past,
the truth of what they’ve done will last.
The word they use? Retaliate!
The proper word? Annihilate!
Get rid of every single one
The work of vengeance must be done
A freedom fighter? Terrorist?
The slaughtered ones can’t answer this.
Instead of useless rhetoric
Protect the dying, wounded, sick
Wake up and stop this savagery
Please do it for humanity!
No matter what my choice of word,
I grieve for those who died, unheard
I groan with shame for what I see
The death of human dignity
To you who did not raise you voice,
Who claimed you really had no choice,
one day the genocide will be
of loved ones in your family
Before you go down to the grave
Cry out for someone’s help to save
But silence will reverberate
For lesson learned was learned too late
When your life bleeds out on the ground
The world will watch without a sound.
Eileen Manassian Ghali
Now where does this Highlander start
To thank those commenter's, present and past
So many read and absorbed
Their kindness to me always lasts
Dr.Ram and Carol Brown
My African Queen 'Miss Wilma Neel's
Michael from New York City
Whose comments I internally feel
There's Andrea, the Utah babe
And Carolyn, from Florida State
Their writing I so enjoy
For their words reverberate
John Loving is such a wonderful guy
There's Sara and Doris too
Deb Radke and Sharon Ruebel our newbies
Made welcome to our literal zoo
P.D. Skat and Constance
Barbara, Iolanda and June
Francine from lovely Nanaimo
Many thanks to all of you
To Ruben, Celene and Raul
Your past writes have helped me grow
Along with so many others
You have helped my words to flow
Blimey! I better not miss out the Brits
Sarah, Brian, Sharon and June
And Anna Marie, away down in Wales
I have read in my front room
Many dudes I also have to thank
Harry Horsman the Geordie boy
The two Roberts, Dufresne and Hinshaw
Whose writings bring so much joy
There's also the bard called Peranteau
Billy the Kidster, Cecil as well
HG, Catie Lindsey and James Goff
Who marshalls his words real swell
And lastly there's the thousands of others
This character has ran out of space
Keep the ink in you pen gently flowing
Your names to me is your face
Golly! this is turning into a story
And many told by the above writing troops
As I marvel at your writing ingredients
Keep writing for this wonderful Soup
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/poetry-soup-16.php
On a road traveled, over grown with time
Now a foot path memory, of bittersweet pines
The sign, with a smile, marks a turn, taken
Leading down to a tree, where first love was forsaken
A raging river of life, which flowed unbridled
Reduced to a stream, narrowing and idle
Where seeds of love, were sewn to the winds
Now echos of lovers, reverberate within
Hallowed ground for a heart, with unbearable wounds
Once a cradle of love, now a visited tomb
Like a miner for gold, panning sands of time
With unstoppable tears, of melancholic brine
As the sun breaks through, the glint of a shard
Glitters in the light, like a twinkling star
Suddenly as despondency, is relieved by hope
Panning faster, more appear, thawing love with a jolt
The stream rises and rushes, in response to the melt
Flowers bloom, birds sing, as new warmth is felt
Standing and smiling, pocketing the gold
Returns to reality, and hopes love will grow
an original poem by the "poemdog" Daniel Turner
To the fourth grade quiet kid crying on the playground:
keep crying.
Let the burning blur in your pupils reverberate your vision
envision maculas becoming galaxies of simultaneous starbursts
normalizing irises marbleized in emotional flow
Drift
in whatever you are feeling at this very moment
Drown
out cacophonies of every synonym for “crybaby”
your classmates can regurgitate
Hold on to your emotion regardless of how hard it’s pulled from your grip
The greatest thing you can be is emotional
because breakdown doesn’t equate broken down
doesn’t equal malfunction error glitch in your system
The greatest thing you can be is broken
metal bends beyond repair; skin is resilient
cut wrists will heal; cut wires won’t regenerate
biology is not biomechanical.
It took until nearly twenty-three for me
to learn having heavy emotions
is just in my biology
and I will never let shame be programmed into me
for being that fourth grade quiet kid
crying on the playground
that crybaby
tracking muds from trailing tears in the dirt
I learned
the greatest thing you can be is yourself
when nobody is watching: yourself
as staring gazes and whispers fill space
asking why you’re sobbing so much
It’s because you’re human.
The greatest thing you can be
is human.
An odyssey through hurdles, yet a blessing it is to dwell on earth,
Aiming for destination beloved, chasing sweet dreams of mirth,
Through successes and failures, amid joys and woes, since birth,
Life can be hurricanes and storms, but living it justifies its worth.
Sometimes life beams with hope, sometimes despairs in throes,
Navigating peaks and troughs, undulating with highs and lows,
Yet, unyielding to reign of angst, life rejects doldrums of sorrow,
Aspiring boldly to sunny horizons, hosting endeavors of morrow.
Life, a realm of virtues divine, resounding endearment of love,
A benediction, an endowment, a gift from the heavens above;
Its paradigms and precepts reverberate from temple of soul,
Echoing sapience of enlightenment, teachings paramount toll.
On strength of sheer endurance, aspirations of dreamers soar,
Flexing willpower of ambitions, resolutely they bring to fore,
As life rewards strenuous efforts, striving for its worthy goal,
Fulfilling purpose of tomorrow, triumphs of achievers extol.
Life toddles, stumbles and falls, enduring as it learns to walk,
It stutters, it babbles thoughts, yet persists as it learns to talk,
Cognizant over time, sorting good from bad, right from wrong,
Obeying tenets of morals and values, guiding humanity lifelong.
Written: July 06, 2023
______________________________________________________________
In midnight darkness, a smart spherical roll
Its treks into clouds as ships over hidden shoals.
Wandering hearts strive for their final day.
Hide-and-seek with woodland dwellers play.
To embrace a lover's chin, a lack of mystery
You sparkle and vanish as promises blistery.
Then depart until your eyes tear up.
Ink-splattered sheets won't dry in the cup.
So, any time of the day, retain a sunny face.
A scentless heart's scent is spared by grace.
Your curved grin is burned into my soul.
I cannot claim uniqueness or be whole.
So as to achieve discover a covert bearing.
And seize the place of daydreaming.
Whisperings of the moonlight dance
Reverberate over the vast, dark glance.
In the depths of night, secrets unfold.
As the clever sphere of silver and gold
Through midnight shadow, it rolls and glides.
Guided by unseen hands, it silently abides.
Such ships through hidden shoals, navigates,
Through the vast unknown, it patiently waits.
They crave a love that is pure and true.
A link that will bestow spirits to renew.
In a game of hide-and-seek, the moon does play,
As forest members peek in the moonlight sway.
They watch as it dances, casting its spell.
Enchanting all who dare to dwell.
A wishful lost mystique, in the moon's embrace,
Longing for a touch, a lover's grace.
But the moon is elusive, a fleeting dream.
Such as promises that vanish, it seems.
It glows and then disappears from sight.
Leaving behind a tear, glistening in the night.
Too late to dry a page where ink stains smear,
The moon's presence lingers, a memory so dear.
Even in the daylight, its beauty remains.
A reminder of the love that forever sustains
But the brightness of the sun cannot allay
The ache in a heart that's scentless in decay