Best Sentiment Poems
Come, let's go to the lake!
It's Spring and I am your
dove-in-waiting to take.
The dogs all out romping in
the freshly-contented grass.
I will listen to your Poetry and
give you no sass!
Two poetic souls bound as
newborn ones.
Wrapped in Spring grass and
warmed by the benevolent sun.
3/25/2021
~2~
Of Law, Negligence, Sentiment & Sonnet
(ignorantia populi est calamitas populi)
Of law, negligence, sentiment and sonnet,
Man is and must always be in commotion.
Law has given us many an asset
To mold our future with set-out notion.
Negligence camouflaged itself in Trojan House
Sanctity of law was exposed to Hiroshima.
Logic was to save glorious mother Themis
But sentiment crawled in from America.
Democracy is not always what it appears to be,
Where sentiment has blindfolded us against reason,
And what we see as reason is indeed treason
Democracy dies, and we’ll never disagree to agree.
Negligence has murdered law, and sentiment has
Swallowed fault
All may be lost, I fear, except my expository sonnet.
Bolaji Ramos
A riddle she could not decrypt,
He was; and t'was the reason why
To him, her Love she would not give.
Perhaps she would, someday, in time.
speaks in silence
volumes of the heart
for the giver
the warmth and eternal love
fresh in the morning dew
a rose presents
a blooming bud
of a glowing true love
The crystal clear image
of her face tattooed
on my inner eyelids.
Delicate blonde hair;
snake bitten lower lip—
tender gaze of pacific.
Memories inscribed in jet black ink--
my anchor when tides would swell;
breath of ocean breeze- the hurricanes eye.
Blue irises you keep
remind me of those
summer sunsets.
Evening constellations—
what cinemas
they were.
Vocal cords could harmonize an angelic
melody of sopranos singing in perfect unison;
even slurs that spilled in your slumber.
Again last night I dreamt of bliss—
wishing you'd been there
for my ecstatic expression.
Our retinas reunited;
the song of ours
was playing again.
Awakening only to find this
barricade I built between us
remains anything but a dream.
Espresso is brewing: that's my fix,
not my expensive Rolex;
this Ralph Lauren suit is elegant.
Good looks can generate sentiment;
worry, rush and stress perplex!
Lying in my bed
with you on my mind
you are miles away
but the memories brings you so close
I sometimes feel your body next to mine
If you could touch me
you would feel
my heart racing
with thoughts of you
they make the lonely nights more tolerable
your voice
although only over the phone
still weaken my knees
I just want you to know
with this pen and paper
that, “I will love you forever”…
3rd Place
SENTIMENTAL LOVE LETTERS
Sponsored by: AUDREY CAREY
Some say that love is dead,
But can that really be so?
Is it an idea, a thought in your head?
Or an emotion you outwardly show?
They say that love is no more,
But is that really true?
Must you ask for it, implore,
Or does it come naturally to you?
I heard that love has been destroyed,
But is that believable?
Is it simply redundant or unemployed?
Or a state that’s unachievable?
It’s said that love is in the past,
Old-fashioned and out of date,
But do we all just move too fast?
Perhaps we need to stop and wait.
I watched as love was laid to rest,
And I suppose to see is to believe;
We buried it dressed in our Sunday best,
A love we bereave but cannot conceive.
Subtle kisses in the dark
Can you see me?
Soft and gentle embraces without uttering a single word
Do you feel me?
My presence has left me and stumbled upon you
Anxiousness causes heart throbs of dissonance
Do you love me?
Lip biting has become inevitable
Heart essence perfect
One copy of Agape
Love’s own DNA
3-3-2010
.................................................................................................................
a·ga·pe2
a·ga·pe [aa g? pay]
n
1. nonsexual love: love that is wholly selfless and spiritual
2. christianity Christian love: selfless love felt by Christians for their fellow human
beings
3. christianity Christian communal meal: a communal meal held by a Christian
community, especially in early Christian times, in commemoration of the Last Supper
[Mid-17th century. < Greek agape "brotherly love"]
I could speak of the meaning of love and make its vitals food for words but that
would tarnish its real meaning. I’m not in my own world anymore. I’m in a world
of combination and care. Her words engulf me into an abyss of mystic nature
and leave me pewter to a hammer of lust. Her body sways with willow-like agility,
nurturing the air with a smooth melody sung by her hips. Vibrant waves of
happiness seep into my pours as her smile pulsates flashing beams of joy
toward me. Her eyes as delicate as glass, display an asymmetrical balance
between elegance and enchantment. A vine she is, inside my body, spreading
her angular roots throughout my soul, synthesizing melancholy into passion. I
have grown weary of sorrow and it’s multiple followers. There is a new light and
a new reality were sunsets burn into lovers eyes and crickets sing ballads for
liberated affection.
Hopper's painted a sober couple
with an unamorous sentiment;
two lovers with faces too distant,
with hands not touching, not feeling...
just being realistic and sensible,
reflecting on a tomorrow that was coming.
The exterior colors are of a depressing dark,
and the interior ones are mixed with bright
ones...with an ivory tone consuming their sober faces;
why are they staring into nothingness, sensing sadness?
We can't feel what they feel, or hear what they hear,
but their thoughtfulness is as intense as the evening' whisper.
Theirs was an era when Elvis was the undisputed king,
and his music was played on an old-fashioned record player;
perhaps his blues were the ones they loved to sing,
but the pretty boy from Tennessee was much younger and happier than they ever were,
not wearing a blue t-shirt, brown slacks and a classic hairdo,
and he rode in his red Chrevolet with a style that was envied by everyone in Hollywood.
Hopper's theme should have been much livelier than this,
not as morose as his summer's evening melancholic portrait;
and who could judge him for expressing himself in a such way?
Perhaps it was a realistic scene he had experienced with his fiancee,
observe the artist's rendition of the unpleasant mood he was in...
and shouldn't have he painted it with a more intimate and amorous sentiment?
Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci
You crawl beneath my timid heart
Deploying feeble desires
I speak with vivacious eloquence
But, I have not changed my reasoning
Or, lack there of
I dive, head-strongly, into the same folly
Dreaming dreams I've halfheartedly dreamed before
With vehemence as my blind witness:
I stab at the sands, to search for sentiment
[The sentiment I had unnervingly hurled into the sea]
There is nothing to gain from this redundant Intention
Crestfallen, it follows me, with all of my lost chances
And, I have Run...out of places to peddle my Love
Or, lack there of...
The autumn that had remained monotonous-
For many decades,
Now tears and takes pieces of hearts,
Along with its old leaves, flowers,
Leaving a nostalgic scent behind.
Every preceding winter that warmed people,
Returned this year, demanding-
All the warmth that blanketed their memories,
While it left them alone, in the cold.
Spring found its way into the people’s hearts,
Up sprouted the spears of novelty,
The bright Sunlight endorsed its new season,
A season with a bittersweet sentiment indeed!
Every summer had brought people together,
This one scorched their fragile ties,
The oceans of memories faced up in doubt,
As the vapours of the past ascended in due course.
The grey skies mourned old relations,
Happy moments and sad ones too,
With every successive rain,
Trails of the memories were being dampened and erased.
A treasured trove of experiences-
Prove to be heavier as the seasons age us,
Bringing out our wistful versions,
Only for our reality, waiting to be discovered and cherished.
I yearn for not but your devotion true
A sacred bond you must uphold
You breathed me in the breath I drew
Yet love runs from you faint and cold
Have I transgressed? I toil in vain,
Yet still, you shun my desperate plea.
Affection spurned, a heart in pain,
Forsaken in this MISERY.
Hey, sire, would you ever love?
“I do not, I do not care.”
Can you take me seriously?
“You’re young and stupid.”
Not a day by without the wonder
Of the lack of sentiment you bring
Reflection, though not a blunder
So in your fault I now can sing.