Best Roves Poems


Premium Member What Dreams Are Made Of

A simple scene a nestling seeks the comfort of the night
to lay enthralled, engrossed,  in memories of past days,
the nectar drawn from rivulets that run past blackened lash.

A lidded eye roves left, then right, as if it’s been betrayed
a corner tick, a slight knee twitch, odd choices now made.
The blanket once a comforter now twists so very tight.

A falling dream, a horrid scream, yet no land's in sight.
Bloodless body, writhe, heave, callout, nobody's home
your casing calls, umbilicus, umbilicus, reel me down.

A flying lift of breeze ‘neath hips, a lofting, oh so, high, 
brings soul to ground with sighing sound within the dream,
entranced, aroused, the coming light, the end of night, wake.



First Published in Sweet Dreams and Night Terrors 2013
Categories: roves, fear, night,
Form: Verse

Premium Member Becoming Invisible

Midnight groans so quietly
From a tower far below,
Stars within the pathway
Give off a charcoal tinge,
And darkness roves, alone
Farther than my throbbing glance
And moves back into a shade
Like the deepening of these eyes
Where the pale glimmer withers
Past ghastly streaks of mourning

Like ashes, through the night
Setting the sun, to be gone
Constellations peacefully gather,
like an acrobat, falling to sadness
The moon peruses, a small light,
overseeing time's twisting fate
Night slowly fades into another gem
Alone, pierced by stars.


11/10/2017
Contest of  Craig Hawkins: 
Depression and Sadness
Categories: roves, absence, loneliness,
Form: Dramatic Verse

Crown of Thorns

Crown of Thorns            

A trace of thorns you are 
on my body,
I am an eternal traveller, 
never stopping.

You are the bitter predicament 
of my comfort,
Traces of sensual pleasures -
The mist of a veil is 
my constant reminder.

You wound the stubble of my heartly thorns,
I stand alone on the dusty conflagration
Gazing towards an endless void,
I am bridled with the burning pain of the
thorns...

My gaze tirelessly roves,
Prickly are the thorns,
With malediction entwined...

I am drowning in a sweaty torrent,
I am plunging into thorny depths,
bloody and overworked 
from the struggle,
I yield myself to 
the decision of fate.
Categories: roves, fear, god, heaven, introspection,
Form: Lyric

Book: Radiant Verses: A Journey Through Inspiring Poetry


Hearth of Winds

Hearth of Winds

From west to east you plumb axisal spin,

And darted on the limbs of the poles.

On longitudes and latitudes, you are dotted in silhouettes.

Just above the horizon of age, you journeyed,

Beckoning the threshold of syllabubic windfalls.

Sated with doldrums of lambent haul,

And the pomp of sycamore hover instill.

When you call again at the Isle of trench,

The oracles of time shall tune again the aviary.

Seated upon the pillion of days the carter roves,

Tilting in all directions with hopes of succour.

A long way from time indeed you are,

But as the tides of valour surmise you triumph.

Once I saw an array of humanic acclaims,

In a manger of Sylphic heath of tenderness.

The hills of tonic travails titivating the hold,

And all the flakes of materialism dancing attune the vista.

The tales of deeds will forever entail polemic puzzles,

And the spate of the weaver’s loom shall reckon amidst.

 

Adeola Yusuf Amuni
Categories: roves, naturetime,
Form: Lyric

Riotous Dreams

Music roves forgotten recess.
Spectrum of colors lack comprehension.
Objects of undeciphered importance appear.
Landscapes with familiar distortions,
Capture dialogue of competing personas.

The decayed buildings of my past,
Meet the repainted canvases of the future.
We row the lake of dreams in ignorance,
Lost in erratic, impulsive winds. 
Hurricanes look tame in comparison.

Sometimes I find delight,
Loving many,
Finding impossible pleasures,
Discovering new insights,
Solving complex problems.

 I have conversed with deceased relatives,
Witnessed black horrors,
Screamed in unsolicited howls,
Awoke in unhealthy shivers,
Breached chaotic doors.

Murderer
Victim
Seducer
Hero
Moralist
Criminal

Who directs the movies of my mind?

I am an actor without knowledge of the script!
Categories: roves, fantasy
Form: Free verse

An Unknown Angel

A mushy voice had left me insensate…
My soul grinned & hallowed my fate…

That “Belle” rambled close to me with elegance…
As if she comprehended riddle of my deep Sense…

Words from her rose lips felt like paradise…
It made the fondness for her in my heart rise…

Like a minor she laughs and roves for all to sight…
Becomes an astounding moment like sun bright…

While portraying her stunning beauty, I have inadequate utterance…
Seeing that each imperfect expression for her beauty would be an offence...
© Mr Gautam  Create an image from this poem.
Categories: roves, beautiful, beauty, desire, girlfriend,
Form: Rhyme


The Tricycle Army 1

The tricycle army

What does a tricycle mean to a three year old?
Just as another plaything, does, it, she behold?
Loving  it like the grown-up’s love for love’s madness
On it, she roves about  the yard and inside the house.
But , is it all there is to this special bonding?
No, it has got another level of standing.
Like, when she thinks someone in the house had hurt her
Crying for help, she runs to her grandfather,
Quickly mounts her tricycle without omission
And escorts the grandpa to the scene of action
Seated on its saddle like a queen on horseback
Shouts orders to give her tormentor a nice whack
Applauding  the action with gleeful  laughter
The- tricycle- army glides back to its quarter.

For: Gwendolen Rix’s “My Bicycle” contest
28  apr  12
Categories: roves, childhood,
Form: Rhyme

Sun Never Sets, Moon Nor Rises At Night

Sun never sets,
moon nor rises at night;
It's the wonder planet earth,
In exhilaration vacillates,
roves around the universe;
Hides day heating sun,
Show's way to 
skittish girlish moon;
Slowly-slowly,
She appears in dark;
Stage by stage, 
when she shows up,
In full face from her veil;
In cool embellishing touch,
Earth ecstatically glows;
No day, no night,
No light, no shade,
If we don’t have earth;
Don't desolate entity of globe,
We need sun and moon,
Need day and night both;
Need earth to survive for us;

(In Hindi)

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?? ?????? ????? ?????? ??;
???? ???? ??????? ?? ???? ??,
??????? ??????? ???? ??;
???? ???? ?? ????? ??????,
??? ?????? ????? ?? ?? ??;
?? ???? ??? ?? ?????,
?????? ?????? ????? ??? ??,
??? ???? ?? ????, 
???? ?? ??;
???? ? ???? ??,
? ???? ???, ? ???,
? ????, ? ???;
??? ??????, ??? ?????,
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? ???? ?? ???? ??,
??? ????? ???? ??;

???????=Sun, ??????=Universe

© Sadashivan Nair
Categories: roves, day, earth, environment, moon,
Form: Prose Poetry

Haibun Mother

in the woods getting lost is a bliss,tall trees like mothers welcome me in their scoops, giving off comfort in my waning sense of insecurity,shrubs give tiny berries cool like candy under the blazing sun,to soothe avid soul; on arrival there's an all-pervading tranquility, the wonderful sagacity of nature,smell of petrichor earth, brings forth mother's breastfeeding, the sauce of my upbringing,as time passes on evening sets in, under the placid moon i discover the footprints of my life....

                                          a creaky night-bird 
                                   roves the canvas sky in woods
                                       paints my mother's face
 




haibun Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Mick Talbot
DOE: 06/25/2018
Categories: roves, poetry,
Form: Haibun

The Lie

Lying under oath
With an American pin on their shirts
They wave the US strategy
Dance ‘n Killing and Smiling

They plunder our economy
Using the propaganda to show nothing is wrong
The fox is in their bed to fill the illusion
It’s hiding behind the bush to prevent the truth from showing

And the hounds are on the chase
Get out those guns he yells fight for democracy
With a Sieg Heil under their breath
They emulate what was long ago

Listen closely to their words and phrases
Homeland security is a neo-nazi face
It induces post World War 2 Hitler’s German race
Roves descendents created the cinders of Auschwitz’s

Eugencies are alive and well in hiring questionnaires
They want to know how you think
They want to know how you’d react
They twist your mind to test your reasoning

We need true bloods to defend our way of life
He rally’s the crowds enticing the young
You can come home soon when the job is done
I’m sorry, I don’t have a date 

Because the democrats wont give me the money
to hold Iraq into a prison state. To fund the war  
you see where not invaders were liberators
it just looks the same

I have asked for a simple resolution
An agreement without strings attached
Without an ending date to pull the troops out
Why cant the democrat’s compromise

Why is it they don’t understand?
That our solders are there to defend the American land
To trick and sway
Dictatorship! Through democracy is the only way.
© Ron Flatow  Create an image from this poem.
Categories: roves, angst, life, social, war,
Form: Free verse

She Roves Every Commune With Dexterity

Like a balloon, happiness soared high
Like a sword piercing through the blue sky
Deflowering the virgin power of gravity
She roves every commune with dexterity


I saw her parched on a tree 
And the birds chirped and danced in glee
Heaven of alves, made reality
She roves every commune with dexterity


Upward she soared and soared again
Invading Lord's sanctuary without bargain
Angelic fingers plucked guitars in uniformity
She roves every commune with dexterity 




21/07/2011
By:Joseph Osita         
 For Francine Roberts' "happiness is a balloon contest"
Categories: roves, happiness
Form: Rhyme

To Sea, 2011

I
Whenever would thou bleed, thus bind,
Thy lying heart will shed its feel;
Why art thou kne'd? Thy eyes art blind
To drops whose sight them ne'er heal.

II
At order yours, domain of fever,
For I did never flow had got;
Blush all my farewells to the river
Through spirals shore hath been forgot!
III
Lost are the roads, the walks, the flies;
and e'en my wraith the glimpses shend;
the gust of Love becoming craze:
alone the light will pose to me withstand.
IV
Nor gaze the cheek  at kiss thereof
It rouses; turns should yet event;
Neither at coldness pale the waving luff,
As always breathe is left but never sent.
V
For I ply remissance drawing this-
If the world shall to pleat lade,
Not 'twas drawning for thy bliss;
Not for thee was pour'd: may maid.


VI
Is mine horizon as tears gray
Thy love the light through whom;
The bosom not for hour, day,
Nor night it pray, But to its home.

VII

Is lone an hexitating fright,
The silence rounding ridge of woes; 
And as forgiven one's dreft faith,
Thus be the roves, and not the lies.


VIII
'Tis be the greatest grief
To dare a kiss to coldless path,
Thus frame the soul in lineless wrath,
Bleeding the crown thou hath- and still relief.
Categories: roves, absence, blessing, care, destiny,
Form: Rhyme

Wild Dream

Silence sings to me
The song of sleep, while my soul
Clichés autumns breeze
Where it roves in wild gleamed trance
As dream broke realities.



  Timothy- Paker Nwaorgu


  For Olajide Adelana's "Dream Land" contest

   18/01/2012
Categories: roves, fantasy, peace,
Form: Tanka

Point Not a Finger

point not a finger,
when a dark cloud roves around us,
wild thoughts linger,
evil hearts waiting to throw a bomb on us.

take charge as your own,
for several still smile back at you,
your right as your responsibility,
... and goodness will sail back to you.

a healthy world is me and you,
a green breathe surrounding you,
for long we'll starve in poverty,
unless your care is beyond the possibility.

point not a finger,
when able is your second name,
generations await in the docket,
we fail to act we are to blame.
Categories: roves, peace,
Form: ABC

Premium Member Mistress Dance

Graceful sits her hand upon his arm as they enter
He in his tails and best, she in silver splendor
His eyes scan for those that would covet her form
Her eyes search for men rich, widowed and forlorn
His goal tonight to catch her in a situation indelicate
Her goal to continue in high society and sophisticate

Thus, the dance begins

As she flirts with coy and non subtile implied ways
he roves the crowd waiting for her to finally stray
She has culled out her next meal ticket
While he is hiding, waiting in a laurel thicket
To be a mistress, aging, is the death knoll
For one who never put away for future goals

She and her senior aged new par amour
stroll along the garden, into the darkened core
just when it is she is about to close the deal
Out he jumps, proclaiming his true love he does steal
And thus he is free to find a younger soiled dove
And she is thus inclined to marry, but not for love

Thus, the dance ends
Categories: roves, dance, dance,
Form:
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