Best Speaking(A) Poems
It came to me as I was brushing the hair from your eyes.
I had often wondered, but right then I realized.
You said not a word, just looked at me and smiled.
For me it’s always been so elusive to find,
I thought my luck had run out, and then it came without trying.
Now here it is clear in my mind, how love comes softly.
It doesn’t always have to hit you like a tidal wave.
Sometimes it can creep up on you slowly.
Then you realize you feel it there one day.
Love can come softly.
It’s knowing each other’s thoughts without speaking a sound.
Her fragrance as she passes you by.
That pain in your heart when she’s not around.
I didn’t know love can come softly.
I think of your smile now that we both know.
The way we hold each other and won’t let go.
Feeling it in our hearts surrounded by its glow.
The way you make me feel as a man.
Standing together hand in hand.
It’s loving without pressure and being totally free.
Always being the perfect balance when the other needs to lean.
It’s amazing when love comes softly.
Categories:
speaking(a), me, love, me,
Form:
No need for a special day
to adorn you with affection.
For when love had forgotten me,
you arrived during Spring's bloom,
floating like a petal from the heavens.
I can remember Whispers from tepid winds,
led me to willow trees, bowing to your grace.
I still remember crystal clarion blue skies,
an eternal reminder of our first glance,
and the enchantment in your eyes.
But you say:
"The pen needs no metaphors,
just write simple words of love."
The pen flows like simple musing streams;
(oops a metaphor)
So, here goes in the most simplest words.
You are the answers to those questions I could not find.
What my heart yearned for in others, it found in you.
No confusion remained, as suppressed emotions flowed.
Your whole existence was conveyed through my poetry .
How I wish to forever stay in that moment,
the first time our love turned into reality.
Without speaking a word,
my heart felt like we were not strangers.
You're still the one, only you.
The one who knows, the one who understands.
With you stormy seas calm and all that is lost is found.
With you in the world, nothing else matters.
I can't say it simpler..... Than I am Yours.
Silent One
Simple Musings
14 February 2018
Categories:
speaking(a), love, romantic, romantic love,
Form:
Romanticism
“Guilty, Sir, if you insist that I am--
Yes, ‘twas I who cut her with a knife and
Took her heart out, so very gently while
It was beating--still beating in my palms.
From the cavity where her heart had lain
I placed it in an ornate box with care,
A vessel lined with the finest satin,
Encrusted around with glittering gems
That shone and sparkled like her living eyes,
Which had enthralled me when she was alive.
“What? Remorse, Sir? No, absolutely not!
With what I did, I am most satisfied.
Know, Sir, that she had promised me her heart
When we were young and very much in love--
This love we nurtured, as seasons went by
And yearly sealed in sincere assurance,
Till she slowly became cold and distant,
Not speaking a word, till through circumstance,
She confessed that someone else had her heart,
So I--I took what was pledged to be mine.
“Where, Sir? It’s in a space under my bed,
Where nightly I take it out of its place
And lay it on my pillow near my head
That I may caress it and dream of days
When lovers stood fast on what they had pledged.
Please, Sir, if you’d retrieve the box for me,
This dank dark cell would be a paradise,
For her heart would bear me such company
That even the loss of freedom would suffice
To make me feel I am a man most free.”
April 2, 2023
Categories:
speaking(a), betrayal, death, heart, imagery,
Form:
Dramatic Monologue
Upon the desk the Great Poet’s pen ; covered in dust, lays unused
The discolored , unfinished POEM speaking, a LOVE never defused
The Great POET’S Soul leaves this earth to live with the Great Divine
Memories of a Great POET’S words , FOREVER embedded in Your mind
To die and be remembered for the eons of ALWAYS
Inspired by Light and LOVE : Deborah Guzzi’s Contest : “ My Inspiration “
Dedicated To Carol Brown
My Inspiration : “ Upon a Great Poet’s Death “ by “”Carol Brown””
Categories:
speaking(a), death, loveinspiration, love,
Form:
Rhyme
Devil in the Pullpit
It's Sunday service,
and there you are!
A wolf in sheeps clothing,
stalking your prey from afar.
your lambs are oblivious,
they are being led to the slaughter,
one would never suspect you,
not even your own daughter.
People are charmed,
by your style and charisma.
Little could they know,
your intentions are so dismal.
Sinister at best,
to describe your twisted plans.
Seeking out the weak,
who put their trust in your hands.
Externally seen as a "man of God",
internally, you were nothing
more than a modern
day Judas Kiss!
As you prepare your sermon,
no one has a clue;
the man who preaches salvation,
is an evil Pharisee too!
The organ begins to play,
and I feel your cold stare.
Without speaking a word,
the warning is very clear.
Proudly, you once said to me,
"Go ahead and tell if you dare.
You think someone will believe?"
You don't know the power invested in me!
I sit amid the pews,
concealing your secret.
I've held it in for this long,
but I can no longer keep it!
You are a devil in the pullpit,
a serpent among swine.
Ruthlessly carrying out satan's work,
tainting that which is Divine....
Categories:
speaking(a), abuse, betrayal, child abuse,
Form:
A woman's heart is a time
capsule of truth only she knows the secrets
for which lies inside only she can tell you which one
holds the key to the heart of her soul not just any man may
enter and some men who enter may never leave you become
one she'll always hold you close never to release the love she
carries never to open to just anyone it takes a strong women
to hold such a secret so close without speaking a word of it
this is a place for which a women may keep the memories
of a lost love or even a love she wishes could be but has
fear for what may happen so here is where she keeps
hope alive that maybe some day she may find the
keeper of the key to unlock the secrets which
she has so longed to reveal to the world
but without the love she so desires
her heart is where she will turn
for it is the one true thing
she knows are you
the keeper that
holds the
key
?
Categories:
speaking(a), happiness, love, heart, heart,
Form:
Shape
This booth i'm in , you call a body
apparent problems , wiring shoddy
can't get thru all the busy signals
rush of the race , eluding victuals
can't get thru with simple affection
are they harnessed wrong , disconnection
is comprehension a distant voyage
where i'm now speaking a foreign language
is the dark pit of self so deeply entrenched
where thirst for knowledge will never be quenched
long distance calls from this booth i'm in
dialing the right number is where to begin
as long as i remain on the right frequency
at least avoid world's subsequent delinquency.....
Food for thought , all for naught
line is open , if it's sought.........
Categories:
speaking(a), life, loss, social,
Form:
Free verse
Slow by Flower
I am here
You say
Teasing every breath
Into original
Continual
Perpetual
you whisper out this
Love
I am here
Here behind the day
Inside the night
Laying translucent in these configurations of
Light
You are here
In a billion forms
Of the message of
Love
Incapable of judgment
Unconditional
Slow by flower
We grow
Slow by flower
We understand
And in our faces
You hold perception
Embraced
For all your questions
Our choices remain
We walk through the halls of the traveler
And dance through the unexplained
My voice echoes daily
A susurration spoken to a thunderclap
A single drop of rain
Calling
I am talking
To you
What is it that you do not know ?
What is it that you do not perceive ?
Inside these constructs you have created
Everything is me
Slow by flower
Time in time breathes
Speaking a dawn
Where the seeds of your heart
Are seen
It will only take a moment
I am a moment of clarity
I am here
I am now
You say
I am sipping this wine
And writing these lines
To read them in return
If only
You
If only
If only
If only…………….
Categories:
speaking(a), love
Form:
Free verse
Some have passion and
Dreams in their hearts
That weave in and out
Beyond the edges
Of small places
Their dreams may be only words to some
But to them they mean everything.
And others,
Just as young,
Run off
With no plans
No ideas
And never a second thought.
The dreamers and the aimless
Eventually meet
In the East Village
Center of the counterculture in New York
Birthplace of artistic movements
Punk rock
The Nuyorican literary movement
Site of protests and riots
A place of coffee shops and smart pubs
Hidden inside tenements and dank basements.
And every corner busy.
The older residents
Are immune to the antics of this place
Living in the neighborhood for decades
They have witnessed its many changes
Speaking a hundred different languages,
Accents from the cold climate
Of Eastern Europe
And warm places in the Islands,
Theirs is a smaller world of
Cheap apartments
And open air markets
Where customers
Still haggle over prices.
In dark places
Painted over decades of neglect
Old Polish ladies silently pray
In empty Catholic Churches
Built over a hundred years ago.
By Fall the last Summer’s batch of young leave
Some with promises
Others with regrets
But if there is a regularity
To the ebb and flow of this place
It is the tide
Always bringing in the new.
On Avenue A,
Just off Tompkins Square Park,
An old Spanish woman sits
In a doorway
Watching the artists, radicals and fashion lovers
Walk by
Anyone who cares to listen
Will hear her sing
An old lullaby
"Close your eyes little ones and sleep
And dream while the angels watch over you
I will hold your hand
And when you wake up in the morning I’ll still be here."
Categories:
speaking(a), lifeold, old, , Lullaby,
Form:
Narrative
Surprised, wondering how I got here,
No longer young, not yet old.
I stand squarely on the stage of my own life,
As if for the first time…
Playing the role that was written
Just for me.
Not knowing what I am going to say next,
But confident I am speaking a script that is being…
Written and directed by my soul,
As I speak.
The Playwright delights in challenging
Me in my role;
Pushing me to shed anything that gets in the way
Of my most authentic performance;
Reminding me of what I love and
What makes me most come alive.
Opening my mouth to speak,
I understand that this play is for me.
I am the only audience that matters.
I applaud loudly as the next act begins.
Categories:
speaking(a), introspection, lifeme, me,
Form:
Free verse
At last I am free
from a language that
tried to subdue me;
And all the faces from my past.
That of statured men (on knees)
stripped from sacred dignity-
from being man.
Trying hard to dispute
that I, could verbalize those words.
World, here, my eloquence.
I speak the language of the free.
Though, can I, not hide
a truth so clear to see;
I’ve been speaking a language, foreign to me.
Countless times. Sagacity…
Never shedding a tear?
Only You my Lord, can judge.
Though, hear, this cruel reality-
Born of slave; so too, was meant to be.
Tears! Rivers, the consequence of time.
Wash me clean; please, white I’d be.
How cursed my mother’s tongue?
Yet, all I recall, sweet loving.
Nonetheless, I went running…
Escaping into what I thought was light.
Ridding me from daunted eyes.
Pray, my fathers forgive me.
I am a man of reverie.
At last, I am free
From a language that
tried to subdue me.
So hard to live (this) perceived inequality.
Compounded sins of he, who tried to silence me.
The same coming forth on bended knee.
God, set them free…
Categories:
speaking(a), slavery,
Form:
Free verse
Staring out the window in February,
The trees are talking;
They are silhouettes against the sky,
Speaking a foreign tongue.
Yesterday a tree spoke to me. It said,
“The soul is an animal sloping
gently towards God”.
The ecstasy of trees,
The shelter:
It all comes back--
That day under the lone pine
of my youth.
The needles were a gentle touch
Against my cheek and palm.
The breeze was soft and compelling.
It was almost as if Wordsworth were there,
teaching.
In the wild mood of summer
The wild grapes were ripe,
And dew was as honey on the grass.
The air was full of water,
And rivers flowed like arteries of blood
Upon the land.
Categories:
speaking(a), nature, summer,
Form:
Free verse
Fractured, and torn
Inside I am warn.
Branded and burned
But it’s not your concern.
Splinters sting inside of my heart
Not sure how to pick them apart.
Seen so many lies draped in smiles
This is my life, these are my trials.
There has been a murder
A murder of trust
Many have lied because of their lust.
There has been a burglary
A burglary of dreams.
Nothing is ever what it seems.
Seeing things I don’t want to see,
Feeling things I don’t want to feel,
This is real
Signed and sealed
I don’t know if this can ever be healed.
I am over the manipulation that you think I don’t notice
It’s time for me to disconnect and simply focus.
The remnant of an old foundation still peeks through
It’s like every time I cut it down somehow it starts anew.
I have barricaded the city
The city inside of me
How can I get better if I won’t let the inhabitants free?
I have had just about enough of the games that come from the second sky
It’s time for a new beginning its time to say goodbye.
This is not my home nor will it ever be
I just long not to feel vacant, barren and empty.
But the war has been vicious and there have been many causality
This world has become one big disease to me.
The good that danced in the wind is starting to wind down
And I find it hard to carry on when no one is around.
I know too much
But know nothing at all
This is a blessing but also my down fall.
It’s like I’m speaking a foreign language when I talk to others
You know the ones who were supposed to be my brothers.
Judgments have been made and the verdict is in
The outcome is spoken with a sinister grin.
How witty
What a pity,
How direct
Their intellect.
How false their accusation
I am about to just change the station
I am about to just run
I know who to run too
Vindication does not come from man
It comes right from you.
One day I will see the fruit of my labor
None of you are my savior
But until then, I will persevere
Cast down every fear
Trample over all my enemies
While at the same time praying
they get brought to their knees.
By: Sabina Nicole
Categories:
speaking(a), betrayal, life, spoken word,
Form:
Rhyme
Your hands
in my hands
soft yet firm
moving
squeezing
stroking
insistent
demanding.
Speaking a
half-remembered
language
to which
I instantly respond.
Yet I draw back
at a line,
I can not cross.
Lips mouthing
tender regrets
while our hands
keep talking.
I remember clearly
the ring
in your navel,
but the one
in my pocket
held us apart.
Categories:
speaking(a), language,
Form:
Free verse
Chiraq
Date: Sun, Nov 15 2015 at 9:22 PM
("Killings")
("Victims")
"Imprisoned"
Highest ("Statistics")
In the ("System")
And of ("Disease")
Feeding the belly of the Beast "Obese"
Separated from Fathers & "Mothers"
Become "Hustlers"
Of the Streets Become "Brothers"
They Judge US by "Colors"
Only rightfully Almighty God Judge Can "Conduct"
"Poverty"
"Animosities"
Against the "Society"
Of the "Rivalries"
"Fighting" amongst Each "Other"
Mothers "Crying"
City "Dying"
Children in the City caught into "Violence"
Police "Sirens"
Ambulances "Flying"
To the scene "Outlining"
Of the Innocent "Lying"
Guilty of the Choices "Decided"
Drugs, & Guns "Imported"
From the "Forces"
To Openly "Extorting"
In the Man's "Voyage" Of "Torrents"
College "Tuitions" an "Unemployment"
Not Enough "Fruition" in the Schools Educational "Fulfilment"
I'm Speaking of Knowledge & "Wisdom"
Not in Texts "Written"
An History or Historic "Recipients"
It's Books "Written" of Historic "Apprenticeship"
"Inventions" Etcetera "Printed"
But in schools today not "Descended"
Math, Science, Reading, (Language) "Arts"
Speaking a "Language"
"Nameless"
to say isn't the "Hearth"
Of a "Nation" Created from the "Arch"
Of Gods "Blueprints"
It's not Blue's Clues to find the Blue "Scripts"
The (Media's) "Encyclopedias"
Is "Onamotopoedia"
Same Sound repeating the Image of the "Deceivers"
Amongst the ("Receivers")
Gangs, Sets, "Organizations"
Built on ("Foundations")
Amongst the Creation of the ("Nation")
That has been "Forsaken"
This the life "Chose"
Of ("Those")
Generations from Generations ("Rose")
Pray for a Change but I'll never "See" it
Because we Endangered Species in Existence upon ("Extinction")
I Hate Chicago an the World for number of ("Reasons")
I ain't on the Outside looking ("In")
Looking from Both sides of the ("Tent")
I ("Vent")
Is life all that has to offer to ("Exist")?
Categories:
speaking(a), how i feel, lost,
Form:
Free verse