Best Stokes Poems


Premium Member Entertainer-Anacreontic Couplets

Charmed by her exotic glance
She enchants a sexy dance
In costumed display of art
Strumming rhythms of joyful heart
Choreographing slow grooves
In graceful, musical moves
As gestures paint passion themes
And song of love stokes their dreams
When desires-enamored spree
Hypnotized in tunes of glee

But look closely, watch her sigh
Hear the bawl of tearless cry
When crowds deceitful extol
Exhibit of anguished soul
As smiles aesthetic hide pain
And feigned visage cries disdain

Cheer for her to turn the page
For she longs to leave this cage
Leave realms inebriated
Of drunk notions, ill-fated

Premium Member Orient Express: Collaboration Poem By Jadazzle Jan Allison and Darren Watson

We hear the engine whistle 
The hissing of the steam 
The hairs on our necks begin to bristle 
As we meet the arrival of a dream 
We didn't think we had a chance of winning 
Entering just for fun I guess 
but thanks to simple poem we are grinning 
As we board the Orient express.
 
London to Paris, what a dream come true
I never dreamed the sparks would fly between us two
The fireman stokes the boiler; and releases a jet of steam
The guard collects our tickets and we begin our dream
Days and nights together on this magnificent train
Travel through beautiful places, seeing new terrain
Enthralled at the elegance and beauty of the carriage
Will our trip together end up with our marriage
 
Looking so handsome in your new dinner jacket
Glad you won this holiday; it must have cost a packet
The ambiance of the surroundings is utter bliss
We seal our relationship with a tender kiss
Holding hands so gently we share a vintage wine
Sitting in the Pullman coach you rest your head on mine
Velvet blue sky and shining stars start to cast their spell 
The romantic seine has such stories to tell.

In Paris we visit the galleries of fine art
Holding your hand I realise you have captured my heart
We pass through the Arc De Triomphe and climb the Eiffel Tower 
Now I surrender to your feminine power
Retire with me to the Napoleon suite 
Sharing in the splendour of this romantic treat
Promise to be my Mam'selle Josephine 
Or expose my heart to Madame Guillotine  

You look so beautiful and smell divine 
I kiss your lips, They taste of fine wine
We are lost in the flames of passions fire 
As we quench the thirst of true loves desire
Our bodies rise and fall as we entwine
Oh I’m so glad that you are mine
All those feelings denied and for so long suppressed 
Come to the fore aboard the Orient express.

Passion abates we are wrapped in each others arms
Darren wants more so I succumb to his great charms
Our fire ignites with desire and great passion
Hour upon hour – this man I can’t ration
Finally we reach the end of the line
Our love making session has been so divine
Arm in arm we head out of the carriage door
So hopelessly in love – who could ask for more

15th April 2014
Jan Allison and Darren Watson - 'JaDazzle'

Please also read my Blog about our collaboration

Premium Member The Legacy of Law - Part Two -

smeltering a soveriegnty sent forth from the center of 2 + 2
and branding beliefs with the benefits of interstellar iron,
smoke waving wakefully from flesh feeling fresh from a firefight with Freedom,
unlatching the lock of Liberty with endurance elegant & unabashed,
could Moses manackle my motivations with a burning bias,
would Augustus Caeser cruxify me for minting my own coin,
does the Magna Carta make men Subjects, represented labor,
do government classrooms train Citizens coyly
to kiss the whip of the wealthy, pledge to be collateral,
truth my Tribune, empathy my educator, ability the enabler,
decisions are for me to regret or applaud, keep your mind cuffs away,
I reserve the Right not to consent or comply with a jurisdiction outside of myself,
Right to Acquisition a promise in my purview, might the arbitraitor,

when unable to house the white fire of Spirit
I shall receive the roadway to the great Law of Consequence,
finding friendship in the Unity of immaterial community,
that campfire where sensativity to sadness stokes a heat of healing
an exodus from the conflict of passions,
an entry into natural oblivion, membership to complete comprehension -


J.A.B.


Premium Member December Nights

Daylight fades away early
Even though our day is not done.
Clumps of snow shimmer in pearly,
Enchanting drifts, reflecting the disappearing sun.
My love stokes ardent embers to glowing
Beneath hungry stockings hopefully hung.
Enthusiasm with warmth flowing,
Remembering times when we were young.

Now golden days are growing shorter,
Illuminated by our fireside memories.
Glimmering from the hearth’s bricks and mortar, 
Halcyon dreams highlight sweet histories, 
Tumbling through gibbous and crescent quarter,
Soothing as we smile at life’s mysteries.

Premium Member Red

from afar, leaves like uncounted catatonic fires  
huddled close
pinned to the chill air

a pointillist’s love affair with a hundred shades of red

the ground is a fresh wound, edgeless 

a breeze worries the boughs 
stokes the hanging flames into quivering  
crimsons 
scarlets 
vermilions 
renegade ambers

a slow burn resumes

accompanied by a susurrus of sighs 
a dirge for a season

and the summer sky, now turned slate,
is cremated

The Final Countdown

Israel and Palestine duel, as Iran pulls the strings
Abiding under the rule of the Country with the wings
As Russia looks down Turkey is twisting in the wind
All seeking one crown or just the chance to rescind

As Trump stokes the fire, Maduro concedes to Putin
Netanyahu's situation now dire, separation so thin
And as China stands by harvesting lands procured
Isis continues to try yet no land has been secured

With Libya falling apart as the Sudan follows suit
Each actor and his part following the precise route
Just as the Bible had said as it all falls into place
Man would rather be dead than accept God's grace

Watch that eagle with wings, watch what he'll do
The deal that he brings a peace deal made for two
Then after three and a half years as the Bible said
Realizing their worst fears those of the living Dead

Ezekiel 38

 
Luke 21:28
When you see these things begin to take place, stand up and lift up your heads, because your redemption is drawing near.


Premium Member In a Poem

There's a notion you have, that a poem should be good
And the way that you write, is a fight, understood
So you think to yourself, and you write, as you would
In a poem.

In the stillness of night, or the bustle of day
There is something inside you which stokes you to say
That what fades in your mind is what stays on display
In a poem.

Every word, every line, every stanza we start
Every meaning of life, is a light to impart
Every truth, is a right, and a gift of the heart
In a poem.

In a valley so low, or a mountain so high
There is nothing you know, that is not worth a try
So you reach for a cloud, but you capture the sky
In a poem.

In the glory and wonder and meaning of man
And the right of his birth to be all that he can
You may capture his life and the course of his plan
In a poem.

For love is much better than trouble and doubt
To perish in hate is to pass in a drought
Much better to live and to let your love out
In a poem.

Premium Member A Dusting of Grace




Rays of morning sun whisper through 
The window’s pane, stressing the gentle
Flecks of life’s dancing dust, fragments
Of soothing breathes, moving hopefully
Through the light’s loving touch, sighing
With compassion, kindness, rustling 
Softly, beckoning for music to paint
The sincerity of joy discovered within
One who knows the secret silence
Drifting cheerfully through the air
Creating a scene of whimsical inspiration
That soothes hearts by lifting up
Souls in praise to One who waves
Jubilantly through the caress of sunlight
Filling the dawn with miracles of insight
Sighing with kindness that mourns
The disregard for sprinkles of death
Sharing their melancholy fate with us
Who long to know such grace flowing
Through our spirits in colors of splendor
Which arise from the flames of one who
Waits out the beams and stokes the fire
Of intimacy with Him who knows life
Is built on these playful pieces of earth
Scattering rumors of prayers and love
Through the heart who awakens faith
In the Son who created this fluid grace








Ambedo Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Silent One
October 27, 2020

A Painting

A painting..
A painting speaks volumes..
speaks many words..
People and places..
Scenic veiws..
Fascinating and beautiful..
Captivating and symbolic..

A painting paints emotions..
Paints pure glory..
Splendid nature..
Colors so vibrant..
Takes one's breath away

Driven by a creative artist..
With a stroke of a paint brush..
Stokes that speak a language of their own..

Art..
A communication distributed just for you..

Glance at a painting..
Stirs nostalgia..
Admiration of beauty..
Invigorates the senses..
Fills the heart with joy..

To feast one's eyes..
A vision of pure lovliness
Frozen in time..
By a spectacular painting
All created..
Gracefully..
By a stroke of a paint brush..

Self Seduction

Let's make love with our souls
 to the point 
we set our bodies ablaze
You can be my favorite fan 
who stokes that 
 internal flame
Sometimes I swear 
I'm going through the change
I'd trade all my masculinity
to taste the traces
of your feminity
Every thought
burns with so much insanity
 that when we 
connect dots
we find clarity
I took a moment and 
removed my pen top
and messed around
and seduced myself
flirting with metaphors.
All I need is a few
consonants and 
one fill in the blank
and I'll make every four
letter word feel like fate
© Ts Lewis  Create an image from this poem.

Seen

I have painted you in the brightest yellows
Green and golden light that shines

A million prisms reflect the light of you in my life
A beam this way
A ray that
And a million more
Reflected to my soul

All my thoughts of you in a forgiving dance

Yes I have painted you in my mind
But a million more times you have painted yourself

Short angry stokes of black and red
The deepest of browns and the solemn of purple
All against the backdrop
Of bruises and wounds
That will not heal

Shown yourself to me time and time again
And time and time again I have turned my face
Unwilling to see

Who cannot accept the darkness?
Who cannot accept the truth?

Lovers of light always see the light
And when the shadows come as they always do
It is a shock

Yes I have painted you a million time
But never in truth

So today in the light of truth
I will relinquish control of the brush
And allow you to paint your truth

Truth of me
Truth of light
Truth of dark
Truth of love

I will turn my face to your canvas
And allow you to speak
I wonder
What you will say

Premium Member Demonic Desires

Demonic desires, dark, feral
Seek objects to possess
True love outpours, it’s touch plural
All’s but God consciousness 

Go with love, not with lust 
In God alone we trust
For what’s body but dust

Ego urge stokes fires
Demonic desires

15-February-2022

Premium Member City of Gold

It is not through his hand
Nor his imagination 
That we view the City of Gold
It is through the experiences of the Artist
George Siejka.

I remember George
Only nine, ten years old
Hunched over a small desk
Drawing under poor lighting
Bringing life and dialogue
To comic book characters. 

Art was the escape vehicle
From a mother’s shame
Battling loneliness 
In a working class family
George was a dreamer 
From the very beginning.

Artists have art
But George’s work
Is more than just paint
And brush stokes
On canvas
He creates a vivid image
Remarkable in its realism
In the City of Gold
There is an opening in an 
Old chain link fence
Space barely large enough 
For a hand to reach out
Or press a face against cold steel
For a glimpse 
Of a restless city
Just a river away.

Some say it’s easier to walk on water 
Than to live in the City of Gold.


The panting is stark
Representing those who look in from the outside
From places like Brooklyn
Where people live with modest dreams
And face
Birth
And death 
As close companions
It is also a place where the young,
Strong and independent,
Are not afraid
To cross boundaries
Or face life
A rusted fence
Will not stand in their way
They will make it
To the other side 
Past the City of Gold 
And beyond.

Candy Corn

When the Autumn sun warms dying stalks
Of corn with unkempt tassel locks.
The earth turns from green to brown,
Candy corn comes to town.

A cackling witch stokes the ember
Smoky spirits escape the timber.
The leaves in trees turn an amber hue,
Candy Corn, I yearn for you.

Across my path a shadow creeps,
Into day, nighttime seeps.
My dreams turn to sugary storms.
Candy corn, keep me warm.

Before I die and decompose,
Let me warm by your coals.
Orange, white, yellow form,
The wonderment of Candy corn.

Premium Member The Ghost Train

The Ghost Train

North Wind, it was a howling, the sky was black as guilt
Malevolent the sheen, where upon her  moonbeams spilt
Through the murky distance, her belly glowing bright
Roaring down the line, she was roaring down the line
Charging down the line, the Ghost Train rolls tonight

She glides along the platform, where haunted faces wait
With dreams of grand ambition, that only she can slate
The driver in his blood red suit, turns a skeletal grin
Toward the hungry hopefuls, then ushers each one in

From store to fire, his actions deft
The fireman twisting on his plate
Stokes  the engine right to left
He fuels the fire of fate

He mutters and stutters, “We can’t be late”
For time is money and money won’t wait
With shovels full of human desire
He fuels the fire of hate

The whistle cord is pulled, the flag flutters all clear
The engine she is plied, starts the journey into fear

On it goes a rumbling, 
On it’s round iron feet
Inside the folk are tumbling
From every leathered seat

Amid the laughter and the chants
What life, what love, what times
Everyone is held entranced
By ghostly railway lines

Tittle tattle chatter, ash from the chimney pours
Natter rattle clatter, onward the Ghost Train roars

Strange games are played
Some win some lose
Sincere thank you’s become mislaid
As each the other use

Beneath the load the earth she quakes
As all aboard debauch
Done deals and shady handshakes
On every carriage porch

Kerching-kerching-kerching, the till bell rings
More-more-more, the engine softly sings
 

From store to fire, his actions deft
The fireman twisting on his plate
Stokes the engine, right to left
He fuels the fire of fate

He mutters and stutters, “we can’t be late”
For power is waiting and power is great
With shovels full of human remains
He fuels the fire of hate 

In never ending search, she roams across the land
Controlled by the evil, of the blood red suited hand
Through the murky distance, her belly glowing bright
Charging down the line, the Ghost train rolls tonight

If it pulls into your station
Will you jump upon its frame?
Will you lose all inhibition?
On your way to wealth and fame

For when the ride is done
There’s no-one else to blame
If you find you become
Another furnace flame.

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