Best Run Up Poems
Introducing: Leonora Galinta & Poet Destroyer
I was awoken by the effulgent smiles of sunlight
Dancing on my window pane with great delight
A jovial repartee of birds: I didn’t sleep last night
Waiting for my love under the gleaming moonlight
“Till I heard their melodies of a glorious morning sight
In my blue gown, I run up the verdant hills
What an enchanting view, so mesmerized …I stand still
A gentle breeze wraps its arms all over me, down my heel
Tingling my deepest sensations, great passion I feel
October Breeze just arrived, dancing with flowers …I kneel
***
Savoring the moment passing by ...I listen
The wind whispers -- watching leaves as they glisten
On this day, a beautiful October Lullaby of life is written
The squirrels outside -on this night - seem quite smitten
Another dreamy tune under the blue moon's transition
Dancing my way down the verdant hill, under the sun
I run with joy, into the arms of the majestic one
The passion I feel describes fall's adventure just begun
Intoxicated by the blossoms ...I stand still, in a silent shun
Dreaming and romancing with my love Blue October
~A Poet Destroyer collaboration~
A tribute and birthday Gift
TO: LEONORA GALINTA
Happy Birthday
Shrill whistle blew as we crossed over the wire
Charged at the Germans who opened fire
Those who had run up ahead
Fell first; now lay dead,
I felt fear,
Dread,
Death was near,
Puddles had turned red,
Run zig zag, my friend had said,
Numb my mind Lord, it's all I desire
Shrill whistle blew as we crossed over the wire.
Written 16th July 2020
For Anderee Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Joseph May.
Yes…feel me, temper my insanity,
hold my fleshed passion as I connect
with an audience to share how a night
devours monsters at the seams.
And yet, this refrain loses as the final poll
excludes my name. Why so? My lenses
run up and down the fourth time; my breath
skips : but the multitude of acclaim
from my readers inhabit my soul,
allowing me to shower my ink
with deeper hues as my inner congas
beat for another round of adventure;
this time more assured that by nourishing
my own desire to regard the heart's compass
first and foremost is what matters..
as always.
...............
Jerry T Curtis' Contest
12/30/2014
Moon hangs high and white coats the earth,
breathe in and out.
Frozen air in my lungs; his touch hurts.
Racing thoughts hurry in a blur.
Warm hands on my back,
then run up to my hair.
Hot lips press against my frozen face.
He kisses me; my first.
Now I know sin's taste.
"Do you trust me"?
No, but what will they think?
What do they see?
Pain in my pelvis;
hot breath in my face.
But this can't be it!
Regret in eyes;
pain in my heart.
On the bed, how I cried.
I wish for a second chance;
and pray to god to forgive my
first sin in Innocence.
Form:
The cold night air wraps around my shoulders like a moth-eaten shawl.
A rasping rain pelts the bitter sidewalk below.
Visions of what once was flash in and out of the headlights passing by.
How did it all go so wrong, as lovers become nothing more than mere strangers?
Your heart has grown so hardened to my pleading touch.
Ghosts we have become, passing through each other in our home that has slowly become our tomb.
Words have become a foreign language to each other's ears.
How did this divide go from small fractures to seismic shifts?
We loved each other so, now we lay next to each other like phantoms.
How do we bring back the light within our souls,
Before we slip through the cracks of this cold, lonely cityscape?
Shivers run up my spine as it's getting close to 2 a.m. now.
I stick my hands in my weeping pockets and jingle my freezing keys,
Look at the blank screen of my phone, waiting for you to call—but you never do anymore.
I guess it's time to start walking home; you'll be long in bed.
I try to tell myself we can find our love again, I just know it, if we try hard enough.
Walk up to the rain-soaked building, enter with silent tears in my eyes.
Put down my keys, take off my coat, and crawl into bed,
Hoping that when the first rays of sun peek through the blinds of the windows,
The space between us will slowly evaporate like dewdrops on a flower petal.
Penny for the guy
C’mon mister give us a penny for the guy
This little ragamuffin asked with sad eyes brimming
Need the money to buy food she said with a cry
We are poor mister tearful eyes still streaming
Overhead great sparking rockets fly,
The girls guy looked sad and cold
C'mon mister a penny for the guy
She shouted as the oohs and aahs echoed around
Great Catherine wheels spun round and round
Sending sparks far and wide, in a colourful array
The smell of hot chestnuts making us drool
November the 5th is a fine fun day
Then through the smoke of the bonfire
Enjoying the fun sparkler in hand …. I saw
A cracker jack was lit by the sad guy
He jumped so high, ran, staying still no more
The guy she pushed for many a night
Was her brother who had been bribed to stay still
He tried but was the fright of the cracker jack
that made him jump and run up the hill.
Penned nov 2 2016
BLUE BY YOU
What’s Blue by me?
Butterfly wings,
the Blue Moth in flight,
stilettos, suede shoes,
for dancing at night.
Moonbows and rainbows,
in the spectrum of blue,
the eyes of your love,
when he’s laughing at you!
Purple Lupine, Periwinkle,
and Violets can’t be!
Forget-me-nots, Bluebells,
are true bluer to me.
Oceans, rivers,
blue lagoons in the day,
on a raft or a sailboat,
to blue Half Moon Bay.
Lapis, sapphires,
oyster shells from Cape Cod,
Bettas and Dolphins,
are deep blue in a pod.
Blue Willow, blue Fenton,
Blue Delft on their stems,
Cobalt blue glasses,
for wine with your friends.
You’re singing the Blues,
when your down in the mouth,
your blue in a mood,
if your spirits go south.
Blueberry muffins,
blue cheese, and blue crab,
and blueberry buckle,
that’ll run up your tab.
A Blue Footed Booby,
who’s feet look too cold,
a Bluebird, and Bluejay,
whose terribly bold.
Something blue for a wedding,
sing alone with this moon,
“working blue” in a gig,
when a blue moon’s not soon!
Blue bloods are said,
to be noble within,
but the silver in spoons
made them blue in their skin.
Blue dragons and Smurfs
and a painted Blue Boy,
stuffed hippos, and Eeyores,
are gifts of great joy.
We can’t forget,
those blue denim jeans,
we lay down, to zip up,
unless we are lean.
Baby and Navy,
and Cornflower blue,
Steel and Teal,
they’re vivid too.
Royal with Azure,
they share a bright blue,
Sky and Powder,
are softer in hue,
Electric and Space,
or a Midnight milieu,
these are my colors,
now what’s blue by you.
-Edlynn Nau
©April 12, 2019
Each time I think of you I'm breathless
I feel your presence ev'ry where
I go through life on turned back pages
Of memories...........the past.
Your pictures line my walls like shadows
The biggest one is in my heart
I feel your warm breath on my shoulder
And it makes me wild as chills run up and down my spine.
And when I feel your hand take mine so gently
The hand that softly brushed my cheek
Knowing that you're here with me this moment
I, can hardly speak, can hardly speak
We walked these streets once in the sunshine
I hear your laughter echo near
Each step I take your perfume fills my senses and it
Makes me smile oh Lord it makes me smile.
In darkest night I'd lay beside you
Holding you tight I'd long for more
The taste of your lips made me tremble
Un till at last............at last
And now vast emptiness beside me
I gently stroke where you once lay
And whisper softly can you hear me
As I'm calling out your name I'm calling out your name.
And when I feel your hand take mine so gently
The hand that softly brushed my cheek
I know you're here with me this moment
I cannot speak, I cannot speak.
Each time I think of you I'm breathless
I feel your presence ev'ry where
I feel your warm breath on my shoulder
And it makes me wild as chills run up and down my spine.
As chills run up and down my spine
As chills run up and down my spine.
09.09.2014
Contest: Your Most Romantic Poem of 2014
Ah, the wistful daydreams about my lost youth!
Astride upon a white stallion, riding into a distant past
I miss youth like a barren, parched desert misses pouring rain
I wish I could coax father time into restoring my vernal exuberance
My aging body is starting to betray me. I can't see quite as clearly
I can't move as quickly. And I sure can't run up the stairs as fast
As I used to. My memory isn't quite as sharp anymore. Each morn
I awake, full of aches and pain. I'm a squeaky wheel in need of grease
You needn't strain your eyes to see what my age wants you to see
I have greying hair, crows feet, lines across my forehead, the works
My testosterone is shot to smithereens. My virility is steadily waning
But who's complaining? I'm loving life. There's a lot of it left to live, still
Aging is hard to accept, but I must. I see my wrinkles
In the mirror, and I smile because I wear them well. I'm still me!
No one stays young forever. I am but a flower no longer blooming
As beautifully in springtime, but c'est la vie. I'm still thriving!
Youthful folks may deride and dismiss me as over the hill...
A Phoenix with clipped wings, thrashing about the ashes
Sucking me in like quicksand, but I'm still alive and kicking
Look how far I've made it! I have something they envy---wisdom!
Submitted for...
Strand Select 2 Any Form,Any Theme Poetry Contest(Winner: 1st Place)
Sponsored by Brian Strand
Date: 01/01/2019
A Contest On Aging Poetry Contest (Winner: 2nd Place)
Sponsored by: Emile Pinet
Date written and posted: 06/02/2019
All is beautiful on this Christmas Eve in my neighbourhood,
bright colored lights are flickering on many a lovely house,
charming and enchanting- it seems a fairyland to me.
Delicate, fragile snowflakes are falling as I hesitate here and there,
engrossed in the beauty, as snow caresses my hair, and I
feel a glow growing within me on this Christmas Eve.
Good thoughts are flowing and I imagine a baby born,
heavenly visions of a bright guiding star, and I am full of
inner peace, as I walk the still snowy streets.
Joy and happiness dwells beyond the doors of these homes, and I hope,
kindness that abounds at Christmastime will last, for it is
love that I think Christmas is all about.
Magically memories come drifting and I find myself smiling,
never will I forget those memories I see in my mind,
open-hearted I share my happiness and sorrow, it drips from my pen.
Peaceful, oh so peaceful is my wintery walk this December night, the
quietness is so deep, that I can hear the snow falling on the bare trees,
respect is what I have for nature that can change from beautiful.
Serene and lovely quickly is changing to a scene dangerous,
tranquil snow has turned into a winter blizzard with wild wind,
utterly amazed, I stand in the swirling snow wondering which way to go-
Vibrant the lights of a snow draped dwelling before me ,oh
wonderful the Christmas music floating in the cold, crisp air,and
xerox copies of songs twirl past and I try to grasp them.
Yes, oh yes, this is my destination, all lit up and welcoming me inside, and
zestfully- I run up the path and fling open the church door.
____________________________________
December 24, 2015
Poetry/Abecedarian/"Christmas Beauty"
Copyright Protected, ID 15- 859-852-0
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
I once knew a boy who could imagine
great things. He could run up a mountain,
swim the depths of the sea. He could fly
a jet fighter and then come home for tea.
As life became real his dreams were pushed
further away. Responsibility overtakes dreams
when there are bills you must pay.
I once knew a boy who could turn ice into
flame. He could imagine a world totally free
from all pain. He could visualise worlds by
gazing at stars, see God up in heaven or
meet him on Mars. He knew that the boy
would soon be a man. He accepted that
nature had its well rehearsed plan.
I once knew a boy who could swim with sharks,
live in outer space and drive the fastest of cars.
He could run like the wind, see sun shine in the
dark. He could make enemies friends, feel the
touch of the stars. He could soar like an eagle,
create spaceships with sand, harness the power
of the universe in the palm of his hand.
I once knew a boy and still see him to this day.
As I look in the mirror he stares back in his way.
Though the imagination of childhood seems to
have been buried away, I can see in his eyes it's
still there and there to stay.
You may think that I am famous
Can't recall my name but
You've seen me hang out with the stars
Believe me I'm right there with ya
I'm in their every picture
They don't know me but I know who they are
Thought it'd do me a world of good
To move out West to Hollywood
And try to get my name put up in lights
I myself see nothing wrong
Being the king of the Photo Bomb
Though I'm still matinee and not full price
When I see a major star
I run up to their fancy car
And kindly open up the door
They all give me the strangest glance
When they can't quite place me yet
They feel they've seen me somewhere before
I'm at the next table in the restaurant
Sitting smiling nonchalant
Big toothy grins when the flash bulbs go pop
I'm the guy by the swimming pool
In the Speedo looking cool
Waiting on the Photo Bomb to drop
Or the guy on the red carpet
Expertly placing my spinning head
At the perfect strategical angle
So when the picture does appear
In all the Major Rags for years
I'll be more famous than Charlie Rangel
Those of us that'll never make it
Can anyone really blame us
For trying to slide our way to the top
It's all I really know how to do
If you really must know the truth
My only claim to fame...the Photo Bomb
RED ROSE RAPTURE
Red roses in fragrant, Spring bloom,
Dispel any sense of world gloom!
If you know, even a whiff of history,
Wars are certainly neither new, nor a mystery.
They have a beginning and an end.
Wars do not last forever, that is simplistic pretend.
But the news is negative to the max!
And social media, makes tingles of fear run up your back.
Be a beautiful, blooming rose to all others.
Don't be a prophet of doom that just smothers!
Allow each person, to express their views.
Even though it differs vastly from yours!
Freedom of speech, keeps us totally free.
Pray God, keep it, in its blessed, totality!
5/1/2022
Shavuos, a holiday with two different faces
One in an uncultivated desert
The other on a cultivated farm...
On Shavuos itself Jews soar to the highest of heights
But this poem's about the run-up, pre-flight
For it's all about how well you prepare
that determines the outcome when you get there
God whisked Israel from Egypt to Sinai in 45 days
Then gave them the Torah without undue delay
One face of Shavuos is therefore called 'Weeks'
Jews count seven of them, then on Sinai God speaks...
The Festival of First Fruits takes five years to evolve
For the first three, there's no touching a tree
In the fourth year, that fruit tree is holy
In the fifth year, in Jerusalem, Israel partakes, finally
What is the reason for these two different faces
God didn't tell us, He left us no traces
But I think there's a lesson: We reap what we sow
~ The longer we anticipate, the more we grow
I wanted to tell you how magnificent you were.
Your laugh, your smile, the way you said hello to everyone.
I wanted to run up to you and say “You are glamorous!”
I wanted to say “I love you!” because I loved your spirit.
I admired your reckless fearlessness. I wanted to be like you.
But I was shy, and timid, and intimidated by your gloriousness.
So I did not do it.
I wanted to.
Boy, did I want to.
I started to twice, but you waved and said “Hi,” and I could not do it.
You were too TOO.
A bit after high school, you were missing for four months.
Your body was found in the trunk of your car with a rope around your neck.
I was horrified, angry with myself.
For not telling you.
For not being brave enough.
I was so damned angry with me.
For not being brave enough to tell you that I loved everything about you.
Your enthusiasm. Your smile. Your personality. Your likeability.
Your prettiness, your willingness to include everybody!
I guess you know now.
You can read this in heaven where you are no doubt lighting up the angel’s world.