Best Seedless Poems
Monsoon mornings are like a seedless vase filled with paralyzed petals.
I sit reminiscing, the fleeting frequencies of his ancient clock,
now cloaked in coal cobwebs composing skeletal memories;
a timeless token of unblemished innocence,
when tiny fingers, tattooed with henna butterflies,
awaited the dawning strings of golden kites.
I ponder if shadows of the moving moon still caress chiffon curtains, forming a crescent spoon,
resembling five marbles of childhood that played hide and seek,
to his virtuous voice echoing down hollow hallways~
homing a trail of tender heartbeats from the swings he made for us…
For the empty room of a wise man is never soulless.
It shelters fearless footprints of futuristic art, painted with patience,
when fairies of twilight forget the lyrics of starry lullabies.
Tonight, I trace whispering wallpapers,
listening to the sound of my grandfather’s perennial promises~
that linger forever, embalmed in sandalwood serenity,
while nightingales croon eclectic elegies to the mourning sky.
Categories:
seedless, deep,
Form:
Free verse
On a monotone Monday,
under grey skies with perpetual rain,
I became a devotee to your magnificence.
A poetic pilgrim wandering upon a path,
which would lead me to your embrace.
Intoxicated with your romantic reflection,
my ink is seduced in your rumination.
My passion is like the raging sea,
come feel my love, come satisfy me.
Oceans apart, I swim in sensual shores,
that would bring me to your door,
but alone, I drown in shallow streams.
I've become jealous of departing birds,
craving for the clouds to carry me
from lilac dusks to scarlet dawns,
so I can ascend like sunrise,
descend upon you like sunset.
You are the essence of nature,
I, a mighty tree bowing to it's mistress,
desiring your heart and soul,
not just your earthly existence,
Your love strengthens my roots,
as they spread rapidly to reach you.
My hands have become lonely,
without your fingers interlocked in-between.
Your aroma intoxicates my senses,
your persona like perfumed petals,
weaves poetry inside my mind,
which flows upon a seedless garden,
patiently waiting for soothing blossoms.
There is no remedy for my syndrome,
as each day without you,
I relapse,
without your rehabilitative scarlet lips.
Kiss me like poetry,
before I suffocate,
drain me into a steamy silence,
where there is no need for verses,
so we can merge in carnal mists.
Lust is an infatuated captive animal,
a starved beast frustratingly caged.
Set me free...
For you hold the key.
Time cries for you, reluctantly moving,
with each beat of our hearts.
In darkness I supplicate with the stars,
with your name on the tip of my tongue.
Devotion is a unity of parts,
only we can piece it together.
With you I want Sunday mornings,
where our eyes meet in rousing raptures
with your lips as my nourishing nutrient.
Love is not just an emotion,
it's a whimsical fluctuating journey -
and you are my final resting place.
Categories:
seedless, romance,
Form:
Romanticism
Tears
(for A, I shed)
When I herd these tribes and fashion cities
With my words, you are what's missing.
- Mookie Katigbak, The Proxy Eros
I cast a brief look at you many a time,
Partly considering your noonday shadow’s silhouette a singular move far
As you pay heed in discreet agony to the old Angelus' chewed verses
and secrecy.
This dust-laden jalousie classroom spares me to steal quite a glance of you--
Trussed up in your chair, chin nesting on left palm
Time and again as against your emptiness.
Religious as your hair finger- combed in place all too often.
Seedless to say, before you’ll be hand in hand with your lover,
Whose teeth are those of metals,
On the following street to reach your home in Gusa ,
Let me tell you my itch:
If it is a misdeed that I travel from one antinomy to another,
Perhaps, you are the credo and the gospel on top of which
Of what I cannot write nor cite in the words of my poetics:
Drunk diurnal sobrieties, c(r)ooked metaphors
And jabberwockies, each verb I turn into flesh: darling, these are not
You.
If by chance, you’d come to notice the process
Of what I do and do all the time
Without my consent or other of a conscious effort,
Listen:
You are these paled viscid extracts
Resting lightly astride my lashes that are sure
Warmer than a breath and are yet to trickle down my cheeks.
*Gusa - A place in Cagayan de Oro City , Southern Philippines
Categories:
seedless, introspectionme,
Form:
Free verse
Do raindrops know
when dandelions cry
flowing flaxen feelings
like honeysuckle hues
cuddling a marigold morning
Will weeping willows wake
parched parades of poppies
silted by searing seasons
stigmas of seedless seduction
shadowed by stormy sunsets
Can rainbows of renaissance
twist tulip tongues
so stamens of wilted whispers
oscillate osmotic overtures
of pistil pardon
Do thundering trumpets
mourn misty meadows
when dandelions cry
tides of tawny tears
widowed in floating fields of life
Categories:
seedless, life, nature, seasons,
Form:
Idyll (Idyl)
Hand in hand glued I walk with you
I am a waveless sea without you
I am a honeyless bee without you
I am a rootless tree without you
You are my fate a true soulmate
I am a feelingless kiss without you
I am a peaceless niche without you
I am a pondless fish without you
You are my love which you deserve
I am an aimless life without you
I am a ruthless knife without you
I am a pitiless strife without you
With you I hit dart bullseye every try
I am a wingless bird without you
I am a meaningless word without you
I am a shameless nerd without you
I admire your piose beauty so cutie
I am a handless clock without you
I am a prongless fork without you
I am a humourless joke without you
I enjoy each moment with you a brand new
I am a seedless fruit without you
I am a useless dilute without you
I am an endless dispute without you
With you I am complete a man concrete
I am a powerless king without you
I am a diamondless ring without you
I am a bloomless spring without you
Let us not apart any day that's I pray
I am a heartless body without you
I am a worthless roadie without you
I am a themeless melody without you
Love is still, love till date, forever innate
Again I would say, you are my fate a true soulmate...
Categories:
seedless, first love, i love
Form:
Verse
Watermelons
Dull, thick, green rind with a creamy yellow behind,
From where on the ground, it sat waiting to ripen.
Round the gourd, the melon matured, bursting the gird;
With juicy, sweet liquid, and fresh succulent meat
(Ninety per cent water and six percent sugars)
Ready for consumption in the hot summer weather.
Carefully pick the vegetable from the bin;
Choosing the size, weight, and colour of the pepo.
And feel for firmness, then cradle, knock, and listen;
(Duller the thud the better) indicating ripeness,
Or employ other quirks to determine freshness.
Then wash, slice, and serve the delectable berry,
With bright red flesh, seed or seedless variety.
Etiquette is discarded when eating the melon,
As my teeth sink into Citrullus Lanatus
(Like a hot knife cutting into frozen butter)
As juices spurt out and run down the sides of my mouth,
While I guiltily look, as I piggishly eat
And slurp away, smiling, and spitting out the seeds;
This August 3rd on National Watermelon Day.
Categories:
seedless, august, celebration, fruit, summer,
Form:
Verse
Two cans Apple pie filling
Half cup brown sugar
Half spoon cinnamon, nutmeg
Half spoon all spices
Two cups milk
Done!
For crust mix bisque and milk to
Make dough and roll it.
Cut circles by five inch lid
Deep fry and heat oil
About four minutes
Dust sugar
Yum!
Don’t like cooking? Then buy it
All say it’s tasty
But mind to eat properly
Lest it is messy
Pie makes one merry
Delicious
Pie!
If fed up with apple pies
Try other fillings
Apple crumb with cinnamon
Tastier tart cherries
Seedless dried grapes
Even beef
Pies!
+++
October 14, 2014
Form: Epulaeryu
Dr. Ram Mehta
Third Place Win
Contest: Plentitude of Pies by Sheri Freshonke Harper
Categories:
seedless, fruit,
Form:
Epulaeryu
When asked what in my basket I would take
of any kind of fruit; well, here’s the truth.
I much prefer my fruit in pie or cake,
or chocolate covered for my sweety tooth.
No apples, peaches, pears or plums for me.
I find bananas boring. Am I sick?
Of all the fruits that grow upon a tree,
there hardly is a one I'd want to pick.
A mango slithers like an eel; I gag!
And though papaya can be rather sweet,
exotic fruits of which the natives brag
are just “ok.” I’ll stay with my red meat.
Just melon, grapes or cherries in my basket
and can you make them seedless if I ask it?
By Andrea Dietrich For PD's November Poetry Contest
Categories:
seedless, food,
Form:
Sonnet
God Is
God is not confused
God is not amused
God is not impressed
God does not watch commercials
God is not the target demographic
God does not buy name brand clothes or slave labor labels
God is not stylish
God is not popular
spoken of often but
God is not popular
God
Currently has multiple copyright infringement and slander cases in litigation
‘cause people keep on placing his name in the middle of nonsense
God is often imitated and killed daily
God finds your insanity boring
God laughs at what you think you know
God know you don’t know her
God ignores posers
Your ego slashed God’s tires
God is all dressed up with nowhere to go
God is the greatest dancer you’ve never seen
God is a beautiful wallflower
Waiting on your call
Dios no hablo ingles
God is against comprehensive immigration reform
God is also against borders
and inequitable sociopolitical and socioeconomic policies
God is not capitalistic
God is not patriotic
God is not contemporary
God is not cosmopolitan
God is a Sunda(zed) effigy
the Author rendered understudy by impostors
Perfection red lined and compartmentalized
Prepackaged for your comfort and their control
God is not a GMO
God is not a seedless watermelon
or a perfectly yellow and uniform bunch of bananas
God is not a Li-ger
God is not a Kentucky Fried Chicken wing
God is not at Chick Fil-A or Church’s chicken either
God is not a contradiction or a fictional promise
God is waiting at the end of our grey wavering
God is not one of us
God is the true and living absolute
God is love unequivocal
the binary promise
the timeless omni-dimensional logic appearing illogical to the finite senses
God is exact and infinite
the mystery in which there is no intrigue
the balance in deed rendering speech meaningless
God is beyond question or renegotiation
God never whatever
God ever forever
The bearer of the standard that I strive to stand upon
The principle to which I wish to nearer draw
The here to there
The this to that
The then now and ever in an instant
The all in all in which it all makes sense
the destination
the road itself
and the motivation to keep on walking
Categories:
seedless, black african american, blessing,
Form:
Free verse
please make me more simple.
kill the most part of my life.
if arson is my destiny,
let me turn to ashes nothing but the dry leaves
on feet of the trees, so they’ll grow denser with ease.
tell sorrowful tales to the sky
about wild orchids, dead before they bloom
about fallen seedless fruits.
about birds lost in smoke, birds losing their nests.
make her cry. make the sky shed her tears.
help the forest foster more leaves and grow
a greener green.
take me to the town’s waste
to the kitchens of the famished
to the veins of those shivering with loneliness
to the couple who’ve spent too long sharing
their backs with one another
please make me more humble.
Categories:
seedless, natural disasters, nature, romance,
Form:
Free verse
Her hand of friendship, not desire
Though we traveled roads long and far
My heart was hers for all to lend
She sought from life a blazing star
The years became a seedless tree
A love kept silent, never grew
My honor held in quiet stead
As she disappeared from view
An Autumn night, as years had passed
Came gentle knock, my open door
And there she stood in a quiet pose
A rushing kiss, the empty floor
A night we found of hungered bliss
The embers cold to passion's fire
The last goodby was her gift
She'd always known my heart's desire
contest Your Favorite Quatrain
8/18/14
Categories:
seedless, giving, memory,
Form:
Quatrain
These days they protect the sinners unlawfully
discarding all good values where equality has become a twisted act
against victims loyalty burning sacrifice hell
it has no fury like the scorn of the devil in such a beast
unforgiving creatures born from nightmares
they exist to walk this earth like a plague
fighting this evil chain weighing heavy doomsday
disturbing humanities balance in such weakness their grows strength
where hope cries for the love of God within pities sake
truth is overturned inside seedless lies corrupting morality
giving the podium to a shame and disgrace against peace
the oldest story has awakened today leaping through time
errors of judgement will befall us all if we remain blind
Categories:
seedless, betrayal, conflict, god, heart,
Form:
Free verse
Disassociation
Gawaine Caldwater Ross
Some people dash through fire,
others plunge through ice.
Is Reality the only thing
when Chaos is the King?
Ring all your golden Christmas bells,
the sewer rats still dance:
Then the ice they buy and sell
will wind up in your drinking glass.
All muddied and black,
that iridescent toxicity
in which the ship is lost.
The mutineers choose weapons
and toss the captain overboard
to feed her to the sharks
by the reefs of broken glass -
each mirrored fragment seizes night light
and casts werelit visions
of her home bleeding, collapsing
as the boulders fall dead center.
(She goes into her heart and mind
which reminds her) of departing kin
who told her of the doom that wheezes
down the orchard's razor walks.
? Too cold? - We'll leave this
television frame behind
to go and seek the whip instead.
The radio commander never stops:
Hilarity dances with dank despair,
mudslides block the view.
She seeks a serpent that doesn't bite
and settles for a badger's den
with herself as Cinderella, Joan of Arc,
the Virgin Mary, or a
vulture squawking over food.
The radio commander orders her
to yell in a crowded subway train:
“Rubber plantation workers beat seedless grapes!
Venus is being invaded by dogs!”
Categories:
seedless, angst,
Form:
Blank verse
when your emails arrive
they're full but not so alive
your words are kind, nice
your message very concise
not a hint of those things
that you know ails or stings
i should tell you
enlighten you
in the spaces there are signs
what i read between the lines
i see and more i feel the acid rain
drops that are soaked in your pain
it feels like bullets against my hide
like a red hot iron buried in my side
i would like to say sorry
sorry that you hurt. sorry
in thinking of me you veil your truth
though you know it's a seedless fruit
inside you, what now must feel like an empty shell
there is still the you the one that always rang the bell
you know you are still yourself unpressed
the person i know that always impressed
but cuts don't heal from raw facts
they hide irritated in burlap sacks
behind a plastic mask
inside an empty flask
love-hurt spreads more than any tear
not just here or there but everywhere
it reflects any and all reason
lives void of all of any season
no spring winter summer or fall
it is tossed and bounced like a ball
left to its own devices
it morphs becomes a crisis
but you can't let it own you
just like yesterday this too
it will be tomorrow
days follow in a row
grab a very large clock
one with a key and a lock
only you can turn the hand
and stop the flow of sand
happy is a minute away
choose it now, today
Sponsor: Poet Destroyer A
Contest Name: Enter a poem I have not commented on (YET) #1
Categories:
seedless, break up,
Form:
Free verse
The scent of poppy haunts my drear-numbed sense,
Be-casting with ill dreams my weary brain,
And veiling my sick heart with indolence
That madly throbs and draws upon me pain.
As though of some black poison I have drunk,
My eyes are blurred by shawls of nothingness,
And like night’s cloven clouds, my soul has sunk
Into the ocean of still quietness.
My ear now rings with some faint voice, unheard,
Wrung with the tuneless melody of shame,
And, oh, my seedless heart is some chained bird
Who craves to fly but deems constraint the same.
I yearn to fly away, but cannot free
Myself from this most stiff infirmity:
The binding force of wistful dream and faded memory…
© 2014 Gleb Zavlanov
Categories:
seedless,
Form:
Rhyme