Best Sigh Poems
When fleeting storm said goodbye
The darkened sky detected a lie
Besting clouds her thoughts host
Drenching doubts that block riposte.
As the cobalt sky and ocean meet
On the sapphire arc revelers greet
The changing season's vibrant theme
In golden attire of autumn's dream.
The sound of wind whirls in trees
Musical tones of rustling leaves
And the falling foliage flies with ease
Orange hues in autumn's breeze.
As the sepia tones enchant her eye
The gilded leaves of autumn sigh
On buoyant horizon drifting high
Where crimson vistas touch the sky.
Vivid vibes spell a brand new start
As blazing colors awaken her heart
And amber passions begin to reveal
Tinges of magenta in love's appeal.
September 2, 2018
Placed first in One in five (II) poetry contest by Joseph May
Placed first in contest #560 by Brian Strand
A wounded sigh, an expression evincing the pain of hurt,
A bawl in solitude, turbulence of inner emptiness stirs,
When emotions clamor, simmering in angst of regrets,
When mute demeanor, of injured breath, wistfully frets.
Soul desperately aches for a special someone to talk to,
Someone who understands the language of quietude,
Someone who can soothe the trauma, of life gone askew,
Someone who brings to fore, hope of tomorrow anew.
Laments of past echo, moaning upon meadows of life,
Reverberating in heartbreak of grief, bereft of promise,
To rehabilitate devastation of savage emotional storms,
As covenants, deemed eternal, hesitate in broken vows.
Wounded hearts now trace moments of love, sadly lost,
When loneliness dwells in nightmares of past forlorn,
When the abandoned pledges of forever, callously mock,
As muffled wail recalls, life of joy and love, that once was.
Sorrows now seek solace, yearning compassionate voice
To soothe tides of heartbreak, agitating lonesome mind,
As hopes of morrow rekindle in womb of promising night,
When smile-endearing, subjugates cry of wounded sigh.
Written: January 20, 2024
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Weary of heartfelt kindness,
on rugged slopes,
Charming and brilliant,
will fall back into darkness.
Yet they suit rose and oak,
I survive,
Mates and minds meet on Earth,
Mingle with subdued dust,
Few opinions or facts,
Slurries, or rules, are vestiges,
yet the finest has vanished,
An aversion to caring hearts,
Amidst rugged scenery,
Charming and well-versed
Shall revert to oblivion,
Dot with ivy and blooms
I endure unblemished
Soar into space, mates, and sages,
Mortar and grime
Low empathy or moral venture,
yet the finest has faded away.
Beneath a veil of dense foliage,
I'm back to my ethereal abode
peaceful midst of rustling woods
My worldly life is over,
The cacophony drove me
loudness, delight, and pain,
faded into timeless quiet
I am at ease
Dancing across your mind and heart,
infusing your soul with tender views
Grief will lessen in-depth agony,
At sunset, daylight will wane
I'm here.
I can be felt as you cross this place,
Feel the soft breeze on your skin
sun-dappled woodland floor,
high-up branches whisper,
I'm everywhere
I've returned home,
My clay-creating plug-ins
Earth blessed me with an idyllic life,
has brought me back in,
To adore her radiance,
Under my leafy shade
It is my place of peace,
I'm home.
In the morning storm
he hums like a bird,
but words do not form -
for he can't be heard.
Catatonic eyes,
reflect hypnotised.
As he holds back cries
he feels paralysed.
Anguish from the pain.
Suffering alone.
Wounds begin to stain
hurt he can't condone.
Empty from despair -
character forlorn.
Nothing can prepare
broken hearts that mourn.
He's miserable.
Lost and dejected,
so vulnerable,
feeling neglected.
Melancholic mind -
fragile like flowers.
Dismal days a grind,
he counts the hours.
Insecure with life,
for it makes no sense.
Inflicted with strife,
sorrow makes him tense.
He sits on the ledge.
Breathes one last deep sigh.
Looks down from the edge -
waves the world goodbye.
Silent One
Simple Musings
11 October 2017
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Dreams engrossed
Delicate bluebells yawn
Heaven refreshing
Soft wings of swans
A glowing splendour
We rest in silence
07.07.2015 A-L Andresen :)
Copyright © All Rights Reserved
Like in a dream,
in a flowered field we lie -
my lover by my side.
Sun is sliding down behind the hills
abandoning its violet-streaked sky.
Things that make me sigh.
By my side
in a birthing room is the guy
who made the sun come down!
He holds our newborn daughter in his arms.
I notice a tear forming in his eye.
Things that make me sigh.
It’s the wedding day
of the girl whose birth made my husband cry.
He is by her side
and giving her away to the handsome groom.
I ponder how the years do fly.
Things that make me sigh.
On our porch swing -
I and my love, who once was so spry!
He takes my hand.
We watch the moon replace the sun
that used to shine up in the sky so high.
Things that make me sigh.
July 12, 2021
for the 'What Makes You Sigh...' Poetry Contest of Chantelle Anne Cooke
Now for 'A BRIAN STRAND JULY 16' Poetry Contest
The meadow’s breath a gift to all, the mist, the morning dew,
a silent sigh, a heartfelt call, a prayer to me and you.
Green and warm, full of life, the forest's skirt, the Maid's delight,
where rabbits dwell in lovers’ dells, a dream in morning light.
Gold and bright, full of life, the forest's skirt and Knight's delight;
life lies in grasses high, where lovers sleep and passion cries.
White and fair, full of life, the forest's skirt of pearly white;
burrowers sleep in bowers deep, hearths alight on chill nights.
The meadow's breath a gift to all, the mist, the morning dew;
a silent sigh, a heartfelt call, a prayer to me and you.
The men have made the meadow home, no rabbits now play there,
no deer appear so near the roads for cars bring them dispare.
The meadow was home to many things, butterflies, birds on wing,
yet, few can dwell where men reside, the forest's skirt swept aside.
The meadow’s breath a gift to all, the mist, the morning dew,
a silent sigh, a heartfelt call, a prayer to me and you.
Poets, you've been expressing your opinions on politics
Some were very nasty, like oil and water, they don't mix
Some 'discussions' have gotten rude and very hostile
It's truthful facts vs. fictional lies, all spewed with bile
Can everyone stop bickering and put your theories aside
Believe what you will, but stop being sarcastic and snide
It doesn't make a difference what any of us choose to think
The world is out of order right now, completely out of sync
I'm annoyed by being told, "covid is just a hoax." It's real!
Go ask the families of those who have died, how they feel
Don't send me to videos with what you consider is proof
I'm capable of reaching my own conclusions. I'm not aloof
America isn't gone. We're much more resilient than that
Our Constitution wasn't written as words of silly chitchat
We've not been destroyed by acts of deplorable lunacy
We've no need of a funeral, so don't prepare a eulogy
Poems and blogs that cause tension, worries and woe
will not lead us to write better poetry, so just let it go
Please stop using your pen like a weapon; a baseball bat
to grand slam insults. Poets, we should not be in combat
Nostalgic rumblings harken back, rattling on and on:
Where have the sweet dreams of yesteryear gone,
Why does starry night yield to nightmares of dawn
In shattered, dismantled, promised land of bygone.
First kiss was just a prologue to prized budding start
Which blossomed love passions of youthful heart,
How longingly now recall the pleadings of romance
As intimate allures of past rekindle in doting glance.
Treasured rhythms now echo a compassionate song
From albums of recollections still strumming along
In keepsake laughs enticing tempo of riverside walks
And flirtatious stories inducing seductive secret talks.
When tears grieve hopelessly, and it hurts when I cry
Fondly I recall, smile of your eyes, gazing starlit sky,
And that’s when I call your name, but hear no reply
Except for the voice of past uttering a saddened sigh.
Alas! It’s been long since our goodbyes inflicted woe,
But I still ponder, if you ever look back~ and say hello,
To wonderment of musings longing passions of yore,
Courting endearment of love, wishing there was more.
December 1, 2021
Placed 3rd: “Y” Contest, New Poems Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Constance La France
Theme: Yesteryear
In sepia foliage's of falsified fantasies,
cursed by haunting hornets stinging
with honeyed painted lies,
her mind was like a matriarch of metaphors.
An inflorescent seed buried in darkness,
with a somnolent spirit rustling in onyx nostalgia.
Too afraid to spread her fragile feathers,
she lay upon a bed of black rose petals,
veiled underneath dark raven phases,
hidden behind the silence of lunar secrets,
Her soul slept like grieving ghosts of galactic graves,
repeatedly releasing wounded sighs.
Not all florets flourish
with the mercy of rainwater,
only nourishing hands can create
an aesthetic pastel carnival of confetti,
like lilac lavender snowflakes of smoky love.
Some spicy spirits are like
the marigold locket of liquid,
glowing like turmeric hues
in tamarind tinted skies of oblivion,
clearing diaphanous dewdrops
of a grainy hourglass,
spreading vintage violet wishes
in bluish epiphany skies,
disintegrating a montage
burnt to nefarious ashes,
raising amaranth pink petals
of heartfelt empathy.
There is a magic in midnight reigns,
as dawn retreats, dusk births a saviour knight,
altering twilight's twinkling tunnel
of kismet stars perfumed with sins.
Moonlight spreads a subtle silk scent
when fears fall like cosmic dust,
soothing a scarred moon soul and stars in slumber.
Not all flowers need a gardener to grow,
but all seedsmen sow to bloom an ivory aurora,
through the obscurity of ebony eyes.
Sometimes, its the simple touch of fingertips,
that lays the perfect foundations,
for a sunflower to embellish in gold.
A wooden flute,
I glimpsed among my mother’s treasured keepsakes in childhood.
being curious, asked her once…
I didn’t notice anyone playing the flute!
Why it seemed the most precious than everything else she cherished!
Hers was the saddest smile when she told me about her brother,
who played the flute when she sang,
passing away from tuberculosis, in his twenties ..
the implacable separation from her most loved one..
the two efflorescent roses on the same branch…
one fell and perished, when it could have blossomed and
charmed the earth with its fragrance!
When my mother passed away,
she asked me to bring the flute,
couldn’t believe my eyes ..how much comfort it brought to her,
touching and caressing that musical instrument with her fragile fingers…
and her last sigh was peaceful!
September 5, 2021
"This Or That - Vol. 6 " Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Edward Ibeh
"Last Sigh of Goodbye"
charming candlelight lost radiant glaze
emotions vanished into twilight dust
broken pieces of heart swallowed in maze
as passionate masquerade died in lust.
fleeting embers of deceit bid adieu'
one last sigh of goodbye stole life's faint breath
a love letter spoke words of love untrue
in painful fond farewell eyes closed in death.
beyond dark grave lies loneliness and tears
'tis better to have loved and lost in life
yet ultimate betrayal spirit sears
impaling soul with wounds deep thrust of knife.
painted finale' carved in canvas cries
caressing love in bouquets of goodbyes.
*For Harry Horsman's Goodbye Contest.
*Nov. 15, 2012.
In my heart always lingers Dad’s last sigh
Never in oblivion could I bury
Such upholds my hope for heavenly high
Leaving me with adieu of victory*.
With his legacy of love and faith’s zest
In my heart always lingers Dad’s last sigh
Testifying God’s blessings of great best
Marked by thanksgiving no one can deny.
His infirmities propped my trust to fly
As I begged for miracle health's fullness…
In my heart always lingers Dad’s last sigh
Since divine will is eternal wellness.
Midst reminiscence of fatherhood bliss
Valuing heritage money can’t buy
So that next generation will not miss…
In my heart always lingers Dad’s last sigh.
*Isaiah 25:8 He will swallow up death in victory; and the Lord GOD will wipe away tears from off all faces…
September 1, 2021
3rd place, "This or That, Vol. 6" Poetry Writing Contest
Sponsored by Edward Ibeh; judged on 9/8/2021.
confusional, yea
but why oh why, for we sigh
interrogate us
comprehend I simply can't
for closed doors, we now adore
.
his excited bright eyes, his laughter,
the puckish way he draws me in.
the moonspun prize he sought after —
roses, champagne, candlelight…he wins.
dawn in afterglow, birdsong on breeze,
silent shadows billowing…lovers drowning in
two cups of coffee…bright-zanthous trees
in morning sun, yawning leaves, bare skin.
salutations of solitude cleaving,
breath to breath, before unbridling the door.
perch of our souls, pulsating sigh, weaving
its ebb and flow climax to the shore.
7/10/2021
What Makes You Sigh
Sponsor: Chantelle Anne Cooke