Best Rhyme Poems | Poetry
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New Rhyme Poems
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Trim The Rime
by Gaul, Greg
by Dust , Pixie
by Dattler, Lynn
by Leiser, Laura
by a.k.a. Broken Wings, Dear Heart
Anthem for a Veggie
by Shaw, Kevin
Until The Light Of Day
by Shepard, Anna M
Dance of the Seasons
by Krutsinger, Caren
You Have To Be A Hexagon
by Parmenter, Nina
by Sands, Heidi
View all new Rhyme Poems
The Best Rhyme Poems
An ember sparked will softly glow,
and fed by fuel, will grow and grow.
I once was cinder, sparked by you,
first timid. . . till the flames then grew.
And so our start was touch of dawn,
with amber hue, for I was drawn
to eyes so welcoming and warm
I never guessed you’d do me harm.
Like morning glory, love in June
the rapture of mid-afternoon,
romance of which the ancients wrote,
our passion had no antidote.
And with the dusk, though scarlet tinged,
our love began to come unhinged,
for clouds arrived, which filled your eyes,
extinguishing bright twilight skies.
With cold of night came shadows’ pall,
and I could not tear down your wall.
By midnight’s hour, the fire was dead.
Mere ashes smoldered in its stead.
You left, and should you reappear,
I’ve vowed to shun you. Now I fear
the very thing for which I yearn -
one touch. . . and then again - to burn.
An oldie For The Creative Collective Anthology Series Poetry Contest
of Geraldine Taylor
Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2010
When the crimson rose has faded
And our day at last is done;
In the forest dark and shaded
Blows the tempest, dims the sun.
When the night holds us together
Shall forgiveness mend the past
Will despair bring sunny weather
And heal our hearts at last?
If we hide within the shadows
Will you stay here close to me;
Will we walk forgotten meadows
Or sail a foreign sea?
In vain the hour must reap
What we gathered in the sun;
And love's harvest now will weep
For the battle never won.
Within the world's disgrace
In the hour of Nevermore;
Will there be another race
To a far-off fabled shore?
We promised love tomorrow
We preen with pride today
Now pride and love will borrow
The tears of yesterday.
Our pride we now confess it
Is a sin that couldn't last;
Our passion if we kiss it
Is like a dream now passed.
While fragrance scents the garden
And the misty moon rides high;
The wind whispers a pardon
When love goes passing by.
Copyright © elizabeth wesley | Year Posted 2012
Each day Annie Lesley opened a can
Her eighty-six-year-old hands trembling
As she sat with her cat and ate pet food
What is wrong with this elder’s rendering?
Pride swallowed to remain independent
Large, sunken eyes peered from her weathered face
Her late spouse a decorated hero
Annie’s lifestyle a national disgrace
More enlightened cultures all over the world
Have revered their seniors throughout history
Asians and Native Americans
Are just two who honor their ancestry
Polynesians, other Pacific tribes
Respect the wisdom that comes with age
Seniors are welcome in family homes
But here in the states they’re placed in a cage
Bone-thin Annie Lesley chose to be free
Amazing neighbors with her endurance
When social services tried to intervene
She fought with remarkable resilience
Old photos on walls told many great tales
But only purring Tibby was listening
Each morning she rose to care for her cat
Until the day that Tibby went missing
In tears she claimed he must have been poisoned
Though in cat years he was older than she
Each day she sat by the window, staring
Awaiting the homecoming of Tibby
She’d been abandoned by society
Lost in the world’s most “progressive” nation
For sacrificing her spouse in World War II
Annie received little compensation
This widowed war bride never had children
Her mate had met his fate in Normandy
Posthumous awards she dusted each day
Annie’s life was defined by loyalty
To a man and a cat who never came home
And the vigil she kept all alone
Ended quietly one warm summer night
When an angel came to take Annie home
With a can of cat food in hand when found
Annie had nothing else to eat in her house
This is the way a veteran’s wife died
And tear stains had blemished her faded blouse
Although seniors’ wisdom is heeded
In societies that grow from history
Too many like Annie lead lonely lives
Wisdom untapped, they die in poverty
Copyright © Carolyn Devonshire | Year Posted 2009
Part I: Ice
He shines like silver midnight moon -
cool marble statue, this tycoon.
And though he makes the ladies swoon,
of ice he’s hewn.; of ice he’s hewn.
He’s poker-faced and can deceive
competitors and can achieve
most anything, but can’t conceive
of Genevieve, of Genevieve.
Like Neptune, distant from the sun -
relationships he chose to shun.
He thought the search for love was done.
He has no one; he has no one.
Now love’s allure has come his way.
What will he do? What will he say?
Will he grab hold, beg love to stay,
or let it stray? Or let it stray?
Part II: Fire
This dragoness disguised in lace -
passion’s flower with angel’s face,
precisely picks the time and place
each dream to chase, each dream to chase.
Like ink the color red, she stains
the hearts of those whose love she drains,
and then she leaves when naught remains
No lust she feigns; no lust she feigns.
And now there’s one who would suffice.
For him alone, she’d sacrifice
her everything, so he of ice
she must entice, she must entice.
So Genevieve now strikes the flame.
Will man of ice his love proclaim?
Beneath her fire and his cold frame,
they’re both the same. They’re both the same.
for Broken Wing's Form G or GIVE me an NA - Poetry Contest
N/A in Your best rhyming poem Contest judged Feb 2, 2017
Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2012
I thought I was a poet who had a pen of gold
With clear access to writing that was mature and bold.
I thought I could go roaming beside the foaming sea
And watch the seagulls gliding to give a show for free.
I thought I was a poet who walked along the beach
In awe I stood and wondered, my hand stretched out to reach
The silver thread dividing the water from the sky
And traced Selena’s features as slowly she went by.
I thought I was a poet who knew what joy could be
On hearing water roaring cascading down with glee.
I looked for inspiration, experienced utmost thrill
When climbing down the valley or up the verdant hill.
I thought I was a poet in charge of heat and cold
But lost my true emotions when I was duped and told
I had to reach perfection to please my heart and mind
By means of imitation. My soul I left behind.
I thought I was a poet who had a pen of gold
But now all of a sudden I’m weary, frail and old.
I thought I was a poet. My pen is of no use.
With teary eyes I whisper to my dejected muse.
Contest: First Place Only
Sponsor: Laura Loo
Placed 1st ~ 18th June 2016
Contest: Any Poem #36
Sponsor: Poet Destroyer A
Placed 1st ~ 13th March 2016
Contest: Million Dollar Poem
Sponsor: Poet Destroyer A
Placed 1st ~ 13th June 2015
Chosen Poem of the day ~ 8th May 2015
Copyright © Paul Callus | Year Posted 2015
Look...See how long nights are drawing in.
Dreary birdsong gradually abates -
Opaque dusk grows dim;
And just outside the creaky little garden
Stood opposite the empty wood
Where the vacant threshold silently awaits,
I pause, when, resonating quietly back...
I now hear...
Far distant echoes of my glorious childhood
Tugging like a Siren upon my ear.
With a heartfelt pang I turn to move,
Before my staring should offend some
Old friends ghost
To manifest in vengeful affright,
Towards the comforting sanctuary proffered
By the warm kitchens weak neon light...
That sneaks out from behind the half-shut
But held - Transfixed!
Brought from wither-not-where to this one
Small place - Staid...
As if caught in a state of heavenly grace,
Conversing to the soft wind in harmonious
Thus soothes like enchantments waves...
Rolling gently up to repeatedly break upon
Magical banks girdling Nivians lakeshore.
For what be this odd muse
That upon my aging senses does so readily
And to my inner soul so inextricably
Ahhh...But this much I may be allowed to
Before darkly gathering skies extinguish
Over weak flames of the last spluttering
Perhaps it is our inner voice
That seeks out the solitudes of
Tranquilities choice -
To witness and record and dutifully store...
Those rare and fleeting moments
We all too briefly adore.
Copyright © john fleming | Year Posted 2016
Over the top lads, for old Blighty! Hold the colours high!
Say a little prayer for me, for this summer day we die.
My brothers from the ripened field and blackened mill, shop floor,
Your brother in a killing field to fight a rich man’s war.
In bloodied mud and shattered wood, fight legions of the brave,
Unwitting youth, you’ll do your duty until you’re in the grave.
A sergeant greets a fresh-faced boy, “welcome to the slaughter!”
Here you die from three diseases, bullet, gas or mortar.
In arms we fight together and in leaden hails we pass,
We die amongst the filth and stench that once was verdant grass.
“In the morning we will remember them” we hear the leaders call,
Those fickle words of history, will not remember us all.
Copyright © Howard Bull | Year Posted 2009
Hidden beauty resides not in the grace like charms
Of coy smiles
Painted across a gentle Madonnas face.
Nor is she vested within the chastened vows
Of saintly knights; encased Great-Helm:
Thus maketh the pale maidens meek pulse
To so fervently race!
She neither dwells in fair Michelangelos alabaster statues,
Or famed masterpieces hung upon hushed galleries
Never does she proudly boast from-on-high
In lofty ivory towers,
Or brazenly shout across yawning grandiose marble halls!
For she will not be found in royal palaces,
Or sprawling estates of greatly lauded piles;
She is not to be found in ancient cathedrals -
Or exalted from their most sacred holy aisles!
She will not be found in hidden empires in brave new worlds
Frontiered by far flung foam washed shores;
Nor found prowling echoing dusty bank vaults -
If all the worlds bankers
Were to throw open all of their bolted cold steel doors!
For hidden beauty knows all the crafts and wisdoms
Of learned mens most subtle and tricky arts:
And cares not a jot, or gives a damn,
For all the poets and their foolish sentimental hearts!
Perhaps she shyly glowers inside a sun struck morn -
Her stealing lips simmering upon the dew kissed dawn;
Perhaps she wantonly flirts alongside a babbling brook -
Where sweet Virgil, Her, for a Muse mistook;
Perhaps she frequents the flowery paths of verdant pasture -
With all their lush, vibrant, unassuming rapture;
Perhaps you may find her in the dappled shades -
In and amongst the streaming glades;
Perhaps she traipses idly through heavens lights -
Of beached harvest moons and star tilted nights.
Perhaps she briefly flickers across sizzling lightening strikes -
Accompanying thunderous cannonades of symphonic rolling might;
Perhaps she sometimes ignites the drifting tallgrass plains -
Glistening within fleeting rainbows blazing an arc over sparkling rains;
Perhaps she is in the gulf filled roar of stormy headlands -
Whose pounding seas smash and grind the sheering cliffs to sands;
Perhaps she burns across diamond ice in glacial mountains high -
Where frozen snows reach sharply upwards to rip open the azured sky;
Perhaps she slumbers in impenetrable greening forests deep -
Lain down with the hunted grey wolf...safe at last in contented sleep!
I am the glint rippling upon the gleam -
The tumbling cryptic flashing only partly seen;
I am the eternal flame that crackles in the grate -
The enigmatic, indecipherable, most profound innate;
I am the paradox within the intrigue -
That does so contrive but does not deceive;
I am the quantum within the curled up string -
The grain of truth from which all half-truths spring.
I am all these indefinable moments and much, much more...
which all of your befuddled senses are resigned to grapple with -
Whereupon to set such store!
Content yourself and make not the mistake
To assuredly set me aside to thus debate.
For i am beyond the conjectures of a mere mortal mind,
As by accidental-consequential reaction...i cannot be denied!
For "Hidden Beauty".....
Once freed from Pandoras box upon this spinning coil:
To fire and play upon your enchanted thoughts - and forever foil!!
Copyright © john fleming | Year Posted 2015
When all around is darkness
Who provides the sun
When everyone is serious
Who is poking fun
When pollution clouds the bright blue sky
Who brings clarity
Who tries to bring some common sense
To mass insanity
When people kill for a belief
Who is pointing fingers
When bullies push their weight around
Who is the first gunslinger
Who sees the heavenly beauty
In Mother Nature's charm
When the house of cards goes up in flames
Who sounds the fire alarm
When depression comes and pulls you in
Who writes you words of comfort
When they can't think of rhyming words
Who makes up words like bumfort
Who puts their feelings into words
With sonnets from the heart
Who describes a garbage dump
With a color chart
Can jump from sea to star
Or describe the pungent odor
Of their grandpa's stale cigar
What people share a common bond
Make pictures out of words
It's a talent that we happily share
Let every voice be heard
As wordsmiths we are special
Cause we feel what others see
Let's weave our threads together
Show the world our tapestry
September 26 2016
Copyright © Daniel Turner | Year Posted 2016
An ocean tumbles through dreams of you. In depths unknown,
I float above. Oh, how I long to dive beneath your surface,
yet I am timid in matters of love. If brave, I’d have shown
you the whole of my gushing heart, no less than tides of bliss.
Seeking depths unknown, I long to dive beneath your surface.
Searching your eyes, I want for treasures lost on the ocean’s floor.
The sun, like a gold coin, drops, splashing this face of regret. I blush
in secret thoughts of you and turn away from the endless shore.
A swoop from seagulls catches the light of your smile and breaks the hush
of late sky. Turning away from the endless shore of regret, I blush.
My lonely shore may flood, a wish to bathe in the caress of you
granted. I shall break from fear, to brave a rolling river between us.
Down current, I’ll swim until I reach your ocean of sparkling blues.
I would drown in the waves of your uncharted waters. Glorious
would be death in the caress of you, your uncharted waters…glorious.
for Craig Cornish's Manassian Quintain Contest,
Copyright © Rhonda Johnson-Saunders | Year Posted 2015
"A Near-Death Experience of A Sweetheart"
Floating through a corridor between two different Worlds
among white fluffy clouds and shimmering stars awhile wind unfurls
racing into darkness: destination to death's door
living in a heavenly kingdom ... forevermore ...
Traveling through deep tunnel as cold fingers touch
walls of blackened essence creating thoughts to clutch
quickly toward a bright white light of peace
my soul and spirit being experienced soft release ...
Rushing to a Paradise, landing on streets of gold
seeing the Face of God so clearly to behold
longing to embrace my dear departed family
loved ones who had gone before to their final destiny ...
Their captivating smiles excited my soul
sharing love once more as was in their earthly roll
but a huge white Angel stood between my track
he spoke mentally "child of God you must go back.
And yet, I was not sad but happy to have seen
my precious treasured relatives cuddled by Supreme Being
why? I questioned must I return to Planet Earth?
Angel responed not your time to stay
your purpose unfulfilled for God to cherish every day ...
Suddenly transported through the tunnel smelling flowers
a jorney taking minutes but feeling like hours
and soon the sights and sounds ignited quiet hospital room
while my loved ones endured possibility of doom ...
My husband was squeezing my hand so tight I felt his love
as my children sobbed so loud praying to above
my eyes opened wide as I inhaled a breath
escaping to my body while I avoided Death ...
This near-death experience was an inspiration
for another realm exists in utter fascination
for now the message lives to enjoy both love and life
have no fear for death is harmless and erases strife ...
Hover close to God and always give Him thankxxx
through trials and tribulations He relieves all angst
Treasure every moment and anticipate the end
a beutiful place is waiting reuniting family and friends ...
Kisses and hugs replaced those solitary tears
knowing what lies ahead extinguishes all fears
please celebrate the gift of life in grateful attitude
Eternity is awesome with unending interlude ...
Copyright © Linda-Marie SweetHeart | Year Posted 2013
A view of the ragged woodland from
Slender branched trees that shed
From high above to low below;
The faint, mauven peaks
Smattered with barely visible
Scatterings of drifted snow;
Across the matted undergrowth
A bronzed carpet of copper coloured
Whose rusting hue,
Momentarily ignited by stray
Sunbeams weakly smouldering,
Briefly refurbished -
Deceives with all the colours of a
From vibrant red through to shy
Hints of indigo;
Those vague outlines indicating
Here, arising, long ago, every waking
The creaking structures
Of groaning and imposing mills;
Soon a slow thawing that quickly
Into the trickling replenishments
Of many gushing and silvery little
Enchantment gripped me!
And I found myself wistfully
Maybe, perhaps, maybe, somewhere,
Just behind where the great
Is now rapidly shrinking,
That I might, by perchance, find,
If I did so hope to bravely dare,
To happen upon a hidden and
Sedentary way of life up there?
That, forgotten, has turned its
Back on the social conflicts
Plagued by the curses of ingrained
Encumbering a soul with its petty
Imposing upon with demands and
When placing unnecessary burdens
On a honest bodies daily call
Of grinding toil and wearisome
And still stood,
With hands outstretched upon the
At the waist half-bent,
Now troubled by quiet mutterings
In an inexplicable sorts
Of self-imposed discontent,
My staid consciousness almost
As, momentarily distracted,
I hesitated, and, unseeing,
A ragged chapter of cawing Daws,
Loudly jabbering overhead,
Suddenly wheeled -
And upwardly soared!
Whereupon, in murderous haste,
When laboriously stealing away
Back inside the stubbled fields...
Thus causing me to slowly straighten;
Whilst, with a singular heartfelt pang,
Liken a moorland mist slowly rolling
That indivisibly conceals...
Drew shut the sullen curtains, which,
Heavily embroidered with indeterminate
Each draped aside of the cold
Copyright © john fleming | Year Posted 2017
The wind billows out from the seat of his britches
With determined eyes, skinned knuckles and knees
He climbs up the rails nailed from old cedar pieces
To the uppermost yoke of the old pecan tree
He is Captain on board, in pretend salty breezes
From his perch in the bird's nest, the world in his view
A small town boy, who has never seen oceans
In the happiest place, where a boy's dreams come true
While the cornstalks stand duty, wavy pumpkin vine waters
He breaks off a branch and a sword fight ensues..
He says "Tally Ho...Land Ahoy!!" to his crew
Dogs are barking below, and he shouts out a warning
There are sharks all around, so his shipmates must heed
He is Master Commander, the ruler of nations
He dreams of adventure from his loft in the tree
As he watches the clouds sail across a blue sea
Till his mother calls him in, for his suppertime leave
Well, little boys grow, and a childhood will fade
The leaf of the pecan, no longer holds shade
Now a stump of the tree, is all that is left
Yet the memory still thrives, so deep in his breast
When the weight of the world comes tumbling down
He visits this place with the stump in the ground
The rings wrap around him, to take him aboard
To the place of his childhood, a place he adored
Tonight he will sleep in a bed of contentment
In his bunk he will dream of his loft in the tree
Tomorrow he'll climb up the steps to his vessel
Tomorrow he'll be where the eagles fly free....
Premiere Contest: #5
Sponsored by Skat
Copyright © Carrie Richards | Year Posted 2009
I stand about five feet eight
I'll admit, I'm a tad overweight
Drive an old pick up truck
Not one to pass the buck
At the moment have a dog for a mate
Dropped out of school at eighteen
Got married in a pair of old jeans
A father of four
When I sleep, I snore
When angered been known to get mean
I grew up huntin' and fishin'
Done more than my share of wishin'
Been in a few fights
Know I'm not always right
For my age, still in decent condition
In my life, I've worked many hard jobs
Its been said, "I'm rough as a cob"
I've smoked and drank
Spent time in the tank
And never, not once, did I sob
I also love being outside
My old skin is weathered and dried
Still play in the dirt
Cuss when I'm hurt
But I do have a softer side
Poetry, I read and I write
These days, prefer music to be lite
Love trees and flowers
Warm spring showers
And swinging on stars at night
I like women who like to hold hands
Take moonlight walks on the sand
Curves excite me
Whispers invite me
A good listener who tries to understand
I wash dishes, do laundry and floors
Clean bathrooms, wash walls and doors
I'm a pretty good cook
Without a cookbook
To be honest, don't mind household chores
Just so you're perfectly clear
I've traveled from there to here
Simple but complex
Know love's more than sex
And on occasion I cry manly tears
Yes sometimes I even wear pink
Wear cologne to make sure I don't stink
Write poems about birds
Use everyday words
And I don't give a damn what you think!
by Daniel Turner
Copyright © Daniel Turner | Year Posted 2017
What's a best friend,
But the smell before rain?
The hand that we give,
When a friend is in pain
It's the things that we do,
The words that we say
That pulls a friend through,
When their heart's torn away
It's the steps that we take,
The songs that we sing
It's the choices we make,
And the hope that we bring
I'm here through the tears,
I'm here through the laughter,
I'll always be here
Until death, and after
It's the things we give up;
The things we give in
When our heart's full of love,
And selfless begins
It's the hearts that we touch,
The things that we won't
We never give up,
We could, but we don't
It's the people we save,
With the hands that we give
When we're lost, we still say,
You're my reason to live
I'm here through the tears,
I'm here through the laughter
I'll always be here,
Until death, and after
Copyright © Dana Smith | Year Posted 2010
POTW 1 Oct 2018
Gossip about her
swept the school yard through
“Hey if you’ve got what it takes
There’s this girl named Sue
For a pack of smokes
or a drink or two
She’ll kiss you ~ she’ll please you
like no other girl can do”
Her fuchsia glossed lips
Matched the colour of her hair
Her legs went on forever
She had a self-assured flair
He yearned for those baby blues
to stray his way
How did the cool guys snare girls
come what may?
Dreams on his pillow
a teenage fantasy
Were seconds away from becoming
a manly reality
She promised to meet him
in the park one night
Two packs of Marlboro’s
Under the pale moonlight
A brief kiss on the lips
then as she swiftly turned to go
He yanked her back hard
and as she fell to the floor
A fantasy was shattered
Hopes tossed away ~ abused
Feelings of rejection
Cast aside and confused
He lived in an era
Where double standards
Girls were shamed
For going all the way
doesn’t stoop to lows
no need to impress
Head high as he walked
it was not worth the stress
The journey was his ~ along this untrodden road
Tomorrow ~ todays rejection would be yesterday’s episode
Every step away from her was a gentle elixir
Then came her words on the wind ~ barely a whisper
‘Hey ~ I’m a virgin too ~ and a skank I’m not
They sully my name and my character they blot
The smokes are for my mum it eases her pain
And for my sick Ma I’ll do this again and again’
Continued in 'Tears on her pillow'...
Copyright © Maria Williams | Year Posted 2018
I want to touch your life
and leave a mark ...
... a deep impression ...
So you will think of me
and of my smile ...
... my sweet expression ...
I long to touch your life
and leave a sign ...
... a warm inscription ...
So you will care for me
and keep in mind ...
... a clear description ...
I need to touch your life
and leave a joy ..,.
... an inspiration ...
So you will love me soon
in reality ...
... not imagination ...
*For S.K.A.T.'s give it to me straight contest ...
Copyright © Linda-Marie SweetHeart | Year Posted 2012
Softly and sadly
Up on the knoll;
The vesper bell
Begins to toll.
Lock all the doors
Blow out the light;
The hour is late
Sleep comes with the night.
Close all the windows
Smother the fire;
Sound slips into silence
When mortals retire.
Downstairs is deserted
No one in the hall
Nirvana of sleep
Rules over all.
A day's work completed
Now done like the day;
Rest is now needed
For those made of clay.
How soft is the night
Where dark shadows fall;
The seduction of sleep
Captures us all.
Copyright © elizabeth wesley | Year Posted 2012
Once I'm gone
I'll only be remembered a small while
I'm a tiny tick on a large dial
The words I breathe will stretch about a mile
Even those who are in history books
the Kings writers and famous cooks
The gorgeous people with talent and looks
They too in the end fade away
Don't get me wrong it's all okay
We might try to hold on but none of us can stay
All have a bit part
on this watery ball of granite and clay
Some are calm others make waves
One smooth skinned another shaves
She loves him while he's attracted to Dave
They both pretend because they have to behave
Each in their own prison living like a slave
The preacher too plays his part
trying to find people to save
Some couples love from the start till death
She breathes in he exhales her breath
Their children thrive Bobby and Beth
While some mothers go it alone
Daddies leave and are never known
Children left to learn life from a smart phone
Some chase riches when other just want to eat
Walking on pretty shoes while poor men have cracked feet
The music plays so clearly yet we fail to hear the beat
So I wonder what's it all for
This wanting more and more
Is that really God knocking at our door
Yes it is I believe it at my core
So why do we leave it closed
Maybe because we fear our sins will be exposed
a life manicured and posed
could be unfroze
Freedom from each prison chose
Instead why not drink from the garden hose
Wear our humanity
discard these labeled clothes
Count down the future with fingers and toes
Within a momentary breath each spirit goes
As minds open each heart then grows
What happens next only God knows!
Copyright © Richard Lamoureux | Year Posted 2016
Lightning rarely strikes without thunder,
causing havoc in gloomy skies.
Humans can't control their plunder,
seeking shelter until the storm dies.
Once, I was your prince - full of charm
and you my willing Cinderella.
Kept you safe from storms that could harm,
just like a human umbrella.
We danced from spring until the fall
and laughed so much, until you cried.
Now here I stand, trying to recall,
that exact moment the music died.
Those eyes of soft chocolate brown,
gleamed with your sweet tender smile.
Now all you seem to do is frown,
and even a glance seems like a trial.
Its been such a long time
since my kiss made those lips quiver,
and my hands didn't commit a crime,
but now my touch makes you shiver.
To unlock those sad songs in your mind,
I couldn't sing the correct lyrics.
Still the right words, I struggle to find
as I love you, doesn't raise your spirits.
As our love begins to rot,
regret plants seeds of discontent.
Yet my love remains, but yours does not,
as you lose yourself in malcontent.
How ironic as you walk away,
the radio plays our special song.
I don't have the strength to make you stay,
after all, it would only be wrong.
Your ghost will linger in the gust
with memories that wish to remain.
When bridges burn, ashes turn to dust,
its difficult to erase this pain.
21 August 2017
Copyright © Silent One | Year Posted 2017
Melodic lullabies echo
As heart strings strum secret chords
As transcendental images appear
Stargazers are lost for words
Paint the sky in optimistic light
Hope descends in serene silence
Floating through shadows of the night
Dancing spirits move to dulcet tunes
Shadows can be seen against the moon
Oh Redeemer do you hear their call?
Take with you those who have gone too soon
From the mouth of Babes
To hallowed ground we trip hand in hand
A new chapter to embrace in its splendour
Ring out voices on notes sweet and clear
To the universe our souls will surrender
Fragments of the past spun into flags of freedom
Our Victory March erased from strife
Away with the racing winds ever so bold
Singing Hallelujah to hail a new Life
The lighter the air the higher we climb
No more the fetid chitter chatter
To the fading strains of a repetitive tune
Not broken -We rise - We matter
Cyber conducts no hateful words
Whisper soft winds only of love
Ring euphonious echoes of Rapturous joy
While Heaven beckons from above
Finally free from those who judge,
Eyes glow as laughter begins to vibrate
Running together through fields of freedom
Babes hum rhapsodies that liberate.
From the mouth of Babes
Jubilous our shouts as onward we go
Skipping, laughing as each other we chase
Heaven embraces as we run to her arms
Soothed we feel in her cocooned embrace
Dissipate grey clouds from this Promised Land
Our Hallelujahs peal out sweet and light
Celestial Symphonies reach a crescendo
As the stars twinkle lustrous tonight
My deepest appreciation to Silent One for his contributions and collaborating with me to bring this message of Hope to parents and loved ones who have suffered the extreme sadness through loss of their innocent children and the dark despair that follows.
Tragic as their loss is, this poem is to offer solace and perhaps help them understand their child has not totally gone. In ‘Hallelujah - From the Mouth of Babes’, this is what I envision it to be beyond the void of criticism and bullying, where Ethereal beings welcome them back to another innocent realm where they readily resume childlike exuberance. Perhaps, they will return in another time away from their dark experience.’
For my friend Kate Pennington an amazing lady dedicated to helping the youth in ‘Beyond a Joke’ Anti-Bullying Center, Australia, for whom I wrote ‘Starry Starry Night’ some time ago.
Copyright © Maria Williams/Silent one | Posted July 2017
POTW 9th July 2017
Copyright © Maria Williams | Year Posted 2017
Lullabies through tear filled eyes
It's truly, love at first sight
The bond is forged and galvanized
To hold forever tight
Each time you needed a hand
She always had one free
From then on, when in demand
As soft as she needed to be
No sacrifice was too great
A patient answer to every, "why?"
That look when you came home late
When you didn't come home, she'd cry
As flowers begin to crumble
your eyes look tired and hands so frail
Breaks my heart to see you stumble
as tears fall with your skin so pale
No one can ever take your place
nor replace your angelic love
Your life is full of prestige grace
precious beauty like a white dove
Mum's sweet words flow like a fountain
such wisdom will always live on
Her love conquers the highest mountain
fills me with pride to be her son
July 4 2017
Collaboration By Daniel Turner and Silent One
Copyright © Daniel Turner | Year Posted 2017
She feels the wind of summer’s soft caress
and listens to the magic in its sound.
How perceptive is the poetess
who senses nature’s beauty all around.
She finds a place to write in tranquil hours.
Then from her thoughts bloom words like pretty flowers.
June 18, 2018 for Silent One's 'When line SIX is a perfect FIX' Contest
Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2018
Waking to cold blown tent, ground frozen icy hard
woods are my love, as is poetry to a bard.
Today starts my anticipated forest trek,
seeking salvation from heart's emotional wreck,
last night I watched stars twinkle in heavenly skies
pondering how to overcome world's darkest lies.
Now dawn breaks, sends fresher pair of gem seeking eyes
desirous to find what Time, Fate and Earth denies,
finding cold breeze that blows snowflakes from white cream ground,
thankful for Nature's sanctuary here now found.
First step taken, this soul takes its desperate flight,
embrace anew, treasures that make life feel alright.
Through drifted powdered paths my healing does begin
rhythm of my brisk breath is like a cleansing hymn.
Serenity in solitude is what I seek,
in contemplative meditations I do speak
amongst the frosted firs a chapel for my prayers
in your Trust surrendering all worries and tears.
To slow life’s commotion and hush harsh emotion,
quiet communion in woodland is my potion -
sweetest swells of ecstasy makes my spirit swoon
in whitest snowdrop bloom my heart will follow soon.
With every snowy step I purify a thought
in this pristine Love I find absolution sought.
The winding trail I followed with a downcast face
and left behind the sorrow of my past disgrace.
Ascending farther to the snowy mountains peak
animated to discover my fate unique.
I shall not let my courage waver, not this time,
with weary steps I continue my forward climb.
The final steps to reach my summits divine light,
my mind virtuous as snowflakes of purest white,
I inhale the essence of life at nature’s hem,
finally free from chains of torment I condemn.
With Fate and Time to blend with Earth, I shall redeem
my dignity and recover my self-esteem.
Robert J. Lindley, Susan Ashley, Teppo Gren
(a collaboration - joining as one voice and one searching soul)
July 25, 2018
~ Poem Of The Week ~
Week of July 29, 2018
It is an honor for me to share in this recognition with my gifted collaborators, Robert Lindley and Teppo Gren
My poet’s note: Dear Robert, mere words cannot express my great appreciation for extending your invitation to Teppo Gren and myself for a collaboration with you on this special spiritual poem of soul searching and soul learning. I am so fortunate to be able to create poetry with two such wondrously gifted poets and this lovely artistic experience was a thrilling and beautiful poetic journey for me to take with both of you. Thank you, Robert and Teppo, for sharing with me the treasures of your illuminating and creative talents, fruitful friendships and endless exquisite inspiration..
Copyright © Susan Ashley | Year Posted 2018
Palm trees are swaying island style
Within the gentle trade wind's flow,
As Egrets glide on salty air—
Then land where verdant grasses grow.
Breathe in sweet scents of tuberose
And let fine mist caress your face,
Dive deep into aqua waters—
Become enchanted with this place.
Let your eyes consume the beauty,
Let rhythmic music soothe your mind.
You'll feel the aloha spirit—
A kinder people you won't find.
Go hiking in hillside forests,
There are no bears or snakes that hide,
Just waterfalls you'll find waiting,
That flow toward the ocean side.
In the distance whales are breaching,
Humpbacks with little calves in tow.
They share waters with the dolphins,
And green sea turtles down below.
Can you hear paradise calling?
Whispering your name at sunrise,
To later bask on pearly sands.
Swaying hula hips at moonrise,
Coaxing you to join in the dance.
Exotic Mai Tai in your hands,
Sweet flower leis caress your neck,
Come investigate our islands,
And board on wild waves at surfside,
Cast your cold and cares to the breeze.
Sailing out on sunset cruises—
Take homeward bound warm memories.
To all my poetry friends suffering in the cold states. Come take a mini vacation
from the freezing temperatures. Aloha--
Poem of the Day at Poetry Soup January 17, 2015
Copyright © Connie Marcum Wong | Year Posted 2015