Best Sates Poems
Simply unaware....or perhaps I don't care
what others say or do
It's partially true
I'm through
Used to care what they think
of my words, of my ink
not anymore....
So much more is in store
you see...rhymes keep knocking at my door
I write and you explore
I won't be intimidated
slated or hated
my thoughts confiscated
by he said she said judgement calls
and so the mic falls
Applause reverberates
and oh how it sates
this little heart of mine
it sounds almost...divine
approval affixed
on my lines, on the mix
of these thoughts and these scribbles
gone is the dribble
of inconsistent scales
yes, it all pales
for I blossom, yes I strive
here in my poetic tribe
the true and the tried
the ones who remain
the ones who refrain
from unkind jabs
drawing blood, leaving scabs
wounds remain...
sad refrain
Yet, tranquility is my gain
I'm stronger
I've stayed here longer
and I will thrive
"staying alive"
for the select few
people like you
and people like me
who love poetry
Pseudonyms, pseudogames
I've seen them come and go
and this much I know
truth is tenacious
staying power's for the gracious
weathering the storm
an exception, not the norm
this much I can tell you:
rhymes remain resplendid
all the way through time
poetry
will
shine
Eileen Manassian
I miss you
With every longing breath
That pants in sweet silence.
With every insatiable spark
that ignites my being
And with infinite tears of all my life
That glides down the empty spaces
Of my mournful soul.
For each lifeless day
Seems like a thousand years
Of wondering hopelessly
Endlessly
Helplessly
On this cruel world
Without your tender kiss
That thaws the frost within my heart.
As the winds hold the last
Sweet myrrh of your lingering scent
That sates not this deep hunger
Crawling in my bones for you
Amongst the fragrant scarf
Of tomorrow's promise
That you left behind
Imprinted indelibly
On the script of my heart.
Each star becomes a diamond
Leading to your eyes
Each lilac wave draws a melody
That inks my heart
With a memory of your love.
Life and breath has lost its meaning
Days are the footsteps to eternal silence
That invades me in shivers of night.
Amongst the mist of mortal pain
I've made my grave of sorrows
On every flowering field
That reminds me of your absent smile
Dawning warmly in my eyes
With a sweet descent
That only heaven makes.
I cast a thousand tears
In a silver bottle
On the wavering seas
That it would find you
Because I die! I die! I die!
Endlessly,
Hopelessly,
Eternally
In your absence
Because my dear beloved
I miss you....
If I had more than my share of gold.
Ranked favorably with Mr. Gates,
I'd travel forth to see the world,
Try all the lavish food that sates.
December would find me cruising south
And taking all my friends along.
We'd sail the seas and live in style
And without worries sing our song.
Spring would take me back again
To the snug house he built for me.
I'd walk the boundaries of my land
And give up all thoughts of the sea.
No riches could entice me to
Move from this home built with much love.
We nestled here for many years
Until God took him up above.
I love each tree that he had planted,
Each blade of grass so fresh and green.
Most of the time our climates mild,
The skies are blue, the winds serene.
Wealth cannot make me leave this spot
Here in the lovely Puget Sound.
My home between mountains and sea
Lies where I'm always homeward bound.
October 27, 2015
I love you as I love the warbling birds of spring
That tones sweet the fragrant hours of day
Just like the Trini flower's soft murmurings
On the sacred fields tender as you lay.
I love you as I love the first smile of the sun
Kissing soft the cherry blossoms by the streams
That like the falling of the dews: mighty spun
Bathing the empty spaces of my dreams.
I love you without knowing the touch and taste
Of beauty's lips plucked from the purest flower
I love you as I love the stars warm embrace
That hugs you in the moonlight hours.
I love you as I love the first ripe fruit of Summer
That sates these poor longing lips of mine
Which holds the last fair kiss of you my flower
By the sweet mountain's dripping pine.
I love you with breath, passion, longing and might
I love you with the deep fire trembling in my veins
I love you till the ends of the unsearchable height
I love you as I love the drumming of the rains.
For I will be your captain till forever and a day
To steer you from the storms, to calm you from the fear
Yet still I love you with the words I fail to say
With every swooning heart beat, with every falling tear!
Ps. This will be my final poem here.
*Image of Excitement Unlocked giphy by Escape Hunt.
Time
Life millstones pressures creation to sort
through essential time, balms the albatross
over seasonable means, paid in court.
A past fraught in qualm, trading ourselves short,
wills the clock face, hands smile--it sates the loss...
life millstones pressures creation to sort,
from the moment that stretches to distort,
spoke present to a fresh reference, toss
over seasonable means, paid in court.
Seconds, minutes, hours ticking by, assort
cleft role of abled spread twinklings as moss.
Life millstones pressures creation to sort
that infinite future's schedule, escort
zealous flashes duly, that run across
over seasonable means, paid in court.
Shapes an hourglass, together, we support
an eternal measured us, reach across.
Life millstones pressures creation to sort
over seasonable means, paid in court.
2020 June 30
*1st Place*
A Brian Strand you choose
~~Brian Strand: Judged 2021 August 12
*1st Place*
Time- 8 Word Challenge
~~Constance La France: Judged 2020 July 06
Summer in the Desert
He thrusts his chest
and breathes his fire
upon our sunburned faces,
the summer dragon
never tires
of scorching hot embraces
Black eyes turning skin to cinder,
his tongue will taste your fear
with one puff of
his smoldering blazes
desert life is seared.
With greedy heart
he holds on to
the treasures he once stole
and hid them ‘neath the red-hot sand
the dusty desert bowl
He won’t give up his desert jewels
till monsoon sates his thirst
only then,
does the dragon sleep-
for he is a creature cursed.
Her beauty does enthrall in morning light
as sunshine paints the sky in hues of pink,
and fare thee well is bid to darkest night;
upon her face the light and beauty sync.
My rose so fresh in early morning air,
with pure delight her essence sates the room
while filling void with splendor that’s so fair,
and sowing seeds of hope for life to bloom.
The aura seen ‘round rose throughout mankind
caused many men to dream, and bards to muse;
led countries into war, and lovers find
the reasons they unite; their lives they fuse.
The heavens gift which all of mankind knows;
the grace and lovely essence of the rose.
"The worst feeling is to be ignored once, then twice,
then again and again by someone you consider precious."
by Betsy Kenton
Life's bittersweet lessons have taught me well
that on the ones we love most, we should dwell.
Not chained or tethered as a master to his slave.
Love, given freely will not yield reason to grieve,
but if neglected, a broken heart will perceive
the bond's been broken and passion it will waive.
Do not express your tender words of devotion
and later tell me you were wrought with emotion.
I'd rather not have known the taste of your lips
if now you ignore me with indifference and neglect.
I'd walk away from you if treated with disrespect,
if what you once felt is in the state of total eclipse.
Love can bring tears of sadness or joy to one's eyes.
To be slighted or snubbed can lead to ardor's demise,
but to be cherished in love's embrace fulfills the need
of nurturing each other as dew sates a flower's thirst.
Being slighted by someone you hold dear is the worst
feeling when the roots wither after planting love's seed.
It Only Comes From Within
While sought eagerly,
mirage like, it vanishes as you approach,
only to move further beyond you.
It does not come from without,
nothing that you have done,
rather it only wells up and warms and sates from within.
The end of the day-
Camped on the Canadian Shield of the Boundary Waters
overlooking the reach of Saginaw.
Or the closeness of Other Man Lake as
the fire crisps rise to mingle with the stars overhead under a full moon
while loon’s call.
The end of the day-
in a well worn chair in the great log room
before the flowing glow of coals,
as you recycle the memories of the day in silent quietness.
That time of day-
when the young children have been
put to bed, given their glass of milk,
prayers given and tucked in,
the driving rain sound drenching the metal roof above.
That time when you are aware
that a deep breath slowly taken in
cleanses and releases you from whatever there was.
Contentment, fullness,
only comes from within, welling up.
Contentment not with what you have done,
only with the acceptance of your wholeness, with all its richness.
The fullness of who you are, shed of vanity,
shed of desire, only who you are.
David Holmes
May 21, 2021
O child of stone, outcast, alone,
succumbing to desire.
Inside your chest, you’re sorely pressed,
assailed by a liar.
Do not believe the tales it weaves:
the lost, untethered heart.
Though it deceives, it silent grieves
the time it spends apart.
When realized, it bitter cries
for wounds it did impart,
and scarce conceives, much less receives
the grace of a fresh start.
But when it breaks, all of that ache,
like scales, just falls away.
A flood of tears, to be drawn near,
says what no words can say.
Your Father sates, and yet He waits
for you to freely turn.
Climb in his chair, incline your ear,
and hear what your soul yearns.
Child, fall asleep to rhythms deep:
a heart that fiercely burns.
Ah, to be blessed, and find the rest
your strivings never earned!
Upon a downy pillow top
I slowly close my weary eyes.
A lovely aura enters in
and whispers gentle lullabies.
Inspired romance invading sleep;
my spirit leaves it’s dream behind
and journeys through emotion's realm;
a lovers' pact to be defined.
Enclosed inside seduction's room,
exquisite candles light the night.
A golden bed awaits our heat;
entrancing music leads our flight.
Her velvet kisses spark a fire,
augmented far beyond restraint.
Our hands caress, a touch that's missed;
it sates our thirst like fine champagne.
Desires are painted, thrills are etched;
exposure rules this teasing game.
As streams of pleasure warmly flow,
we're lost in rapture's bluest flame.
Composure flees as lust explodes
and ecstasy's attainment is planned.
We've set our minds to break the mold;
dramatic thrusts have sole command.
Propelling deeper midst the dark,
constrictions grip with longing force,
releasing waters from the dam,
completing satisfaction's course.
With admiration in excess,
this partnership becomes benign
and adoration takes the stage,
our knitted essence deemed divine.
Lament
The day that music died, singing wept.
Into the sea of melancholy voice crept.
Each word spoken reeked with pain.
When could we ever be whole again
Under the rug good lyrics were swept.
Praise
Singing is really a magical thing.
Everyone agrees music has a ring
It sates all involved, fills to the top.
Once you begin, you hesitate to stop.
Your imagine yourself to be the king.
Consolation
There are none too old to learn, they say.
Never again we give our song away.
We'll sing, we'll sing never quiet.
We will sing, until we start a riot.
Music for ever and ever and a day.
8 Aug 11 Charles Henderson
A yawning gargoyle shares with me the morn.
We sit, reading the Sunday newspaper
about the world's events, mostly forlorn.
He notes how clean is his kind's ledger
compared with the blood of my people's news.
He say he lives without our illusions.
At night he culls without regard for views,
sates his hunger without the delusions
that he is doing it for God, nation,
or some psychological folderol.
"Admit to your primitive origin,
face up to your blood lust, you cannibal!
Then, perhaps, we might be able to discuss
how you could live honestly, without stress.
Day and night, I trip time while crossing datelines.
Slicing between stars, my ride purrs with speed turbines.
To Walden’s Pond, I frequently, eagerly go
for chats with my hero, the first hippy, Thoreau.
I journey to philosophize with Abe Lincoln
who inspires me with his profound, wise opinions.
Endless destinations light my fertile, bright mind.
Each person or place, my traveling ways will find.
I do not believe God, my Father, is bitter
that I trekked far to kill a real young Hitler.
I rushed my yell to tell Native Americans,
unite tribe might to defeat white-greed veterans.
That past and future melds are firm in my grip,
I take no suitcase for private day travel trips.
Seeing John Lennon sates my rock n’ roll dream whim -
always I bring warning attempts to leave with him.
With sway, I journey to stay with Helen Keller
And talk of all her accomplishments, so stellar!
Inside my wander-compass, wanderings commune
to gift my roaming feet a light trippy-travel, tune.
An apple a day keeps the doctor away;
But hugs are the best for your heart.
They say all is fair in love and in war,
But fair can keep lovers apart.
Normal’s a setting on washing machines,
But love is extraordinaire.
So don’t let the sun set on anger or spite;
Apologize gently, with care.
“It ain’t broke, don’t fix it” might go for a car,
But love is an ongoing work.
Measure twice, cut once, take care what you say,
‘Cuz love doesn’t suffer a jerk.
Culture’s what grows in the back of the fridge;
For love, you must cultivate.
Absence, they say, makes the heart grow fonder,
But presence is truly what sates.
Some idiot thought fear was better than love;
For that, there’s derisive laughter.
They say that one’s pride comes before the big fall,
But lawyers come shortly thereafter.
A horse led to water can’t be made to drink,
But roses can go a long way.
“You reap what you sow” should give one pause to think,
Attend to your love every day!
Some say love’s euphoric, it intoxicates,
But a love that is real, it seems,
Is a garden that’s tended to every day,
Not some blissful escape of your dreams.