Best Themes Poems
Meet me when
Sky paints pink
On mauve eve
Embossing love
With blue sapphires
Lured by kiss of
Romantic night
And twilight amber
In themes enamored
Bedazzles your dream
As horizon gleams
Lapis lazuli
Desires whisper in shadow of Venus
And seduce intentions of clandestine love
As rhythms attuned to romantic beats
Pulsate zealously in galactic utopia.
Bashful moon titillates lustrous vibes
In interstellar space of floating nebulae
As symphony of emotions arouses
Throbbing hearts in exotic euphoria.
Sizzling bodies elevate mystical aura
Flooding blood-veins’ cosmic jubilation
And longings waltz on sensuous clouds
As jolt of excitement inflames bosoms.
A tango of passions presents a ballet
For one more spin on planetary stage
High on elation of moonlit ecstasy
Savoring kisses of heavenly blessings,
Satiating dreams of forbidden themes
Unlocking secrets of mysterious galaxy.
January 14, 2020
Placed 1st: Picture prompt poetry contest
Sponsor: Brenda Chiri
Placed 3rd: Strand choice 9 contest by Brian Strand
Where are the universal themes,
the parables, the parallels that might
be drawn from humdrum, quotidian
happenstance? We languish in these ruts
we live in and bear our days with resignation
(some with equanimity) -- justifying
our inaction, our failures to break free,
with feeble lame excuses -- never a real cause:
which is, succinctly, our timorous laziness.
A broadening of perspective, a striving toward the epic,
the grandiose -- with, perhaps, the universality of
civilized urbanity, or of rural natural simplicity or even
stark objectivity -- may these be what we need?
Here's the stale conclusion: be daring,
brave enough to become accustomed
to a singular (perhaps lone) existence.
When you must, be fair and listen but,
when you should, be insistently unbending
to the pressures and opinions of your peers.
And use your mind, your unique voice, and
proclaim incessantly your messages,
even to those who turn to you
their stubbornly deaf ears.
Golden meadows rising with the morning sun
Jogging with me, recalling broken themes
Writing, scratching, re-writing on the run
Thumping heart cheering swinging hands to dream
Like trying to draw water from a water-less stream.
August 6, 2017
Importance of the Alternative Perspective
Contortions of my sentient being
Distortions of my inclinations to dream
Proportions of truth deciphering what it all means
Abortions of opinion as things are not always as they seem
Embellishments of truth displayed on the evening news
An inelegance that’s uncouth waiting for uncivilised cues
An epiphany of untold magnitude seen in awestruck colours of light and hues
A litany of criminal activity revealed by a complex set of clues
The vibrant laughter of children free from care or thought or sorrow
The vagrant daughter of an aristocrat whose forced to beg and borrow
The fragrant spice of delicate refine that contemplated living for tomorrow
The content found on television devoid of depth and so very hollow
Renewed graces of a man given a second chance at living
Perused statements of an intellect whose ideas are always giving
Confused looks from a stern command who remains perpetually unforgiving
The innocent intentions of a naive soul who stakes his fate on wishing
An ordained priest of benevolence preaching love to his fellow man
The contained feast of eloquence as a poet reaches linguistic highs
The engrained yeast of vigilance pacing back and forward as she cries
While the deranged beast of malevolence plots an innocent souls demise
Should we contain the urge to purge our souls from all this hate ?
Or simply refrain to complain at all lest we get locked out of Heavens gate?
Can we pertain noble incline in the workings of the human mind?
Or is the most essential attribute to remain above all else to be kind?
come kiss the frost
from off late apple themes
the carnival is coming into town
where everything is nothing that it seems
hitch up the pony,
take the surrey down.
Let's take the long way 'cross the summer bridge,
the one where first you dared to touch my hand,
I still love seeing sunsets from the ridge
and down below the colors are so grand.
the county fair is finer from up here
all candy apple reds and spinning beams
the zephyr through the pines is all we hear ,
a place to sit and contemplate our dreams
the fantasy is kinder than the truth
recall the ferris wheel at sweet sixteen,
let's share that secret summer of our youth
and go back home to cherish where we've been.
Luminary Visions
Automatic liberty for one who has been incarcerated
Technocratic synergy that evolved to be automated
Enigmatic creativity which is overtly animated
Charismatic sensibilities that are recognised and celebrated
Amazing grace just pouring down from a twighlight sky
Stargazing at space as the question of origin comes out as a “why”?
A blazing face hot in disgrace about to suddenly die
While the grazing poor are dressed in broken lace and caught up in a politicians lie
Miscommunication at the place of education while the illiterate learn to read
Defamation of the current administration as the population articulates what it needs
Condemnation of the newest correlation that is necessary to feed
Exclamation of fascination as the people refuse to pay heed
I can see this microscopic look of fear inside your eyes
If it weren’t so clear I would tell you that there is no need to hide
But I can only add that your feelings are always justified
There’s a place for you among it all that you can always reside
Sanctuary at the latest state to take a stand
Extraordinary instances as I extend my shaking hand
Diversionary distances that remove the people from their land
Luminary images that allow the vision to remain grand
The End Copyright Elizabeth Moroz
I’m tired of influencers faking nervousness.
my generation wants to care less
these days.
it’s a counter-current hack.
we want to be less defined.
we can search and reflect for ourselves.
we’re sick of the emotion
that’s all over everyone’s faces,
the unsightly splotches of opinion.
the entire election machine,
the process of getting there, is smudged.
It’s a curated mess, an advising spin,
an incomprehensible hex:
“Oh profit pondering,
contradictory means to an end
- bless weave, and conceal,
bloodless dollar debt options,
painful penny pincher paradoxes,
and deadly debt bliss dilemmas..”
“Is this a witch or an arbitrager?” Lisa asked, after rudely leaning over and reading up to this point.
“I was shooting for a numinous type of beat,” I revealed.
“We’re supposed to be working on our thesis definitions,” she said accusingly.
“Are you not challenged, here, hour by hour?” I asked sarcastically.
“I need ideas - well - I have too many ideas, I need some focus, I wanted to see what you had.”
I deadpan looked at her, “Well, you broke the spell - I lost my train.” I complained dryly.
“Don’t put me in a situation.” she said, waving my gripe off as insignificant.
.
.
Songs for this:
Easier Said Than Done by Thee Sacred Souls
drive ME crazy! by Lil Yachty
Melt by Nilüfer Yany
At the sound of an opening door
crows cawed a warning
A stray cat perched upon the fence
meowed good morning
The warm sticky fog touched each pore
Made life uncomfortable
How early in spring does summer
Appear so formidable
Each plant contained within a pot
Cries for moisture please
Like works upon the edited page
Call a similar reprise
From old, old themes can lines read new
to modern generations
Let my lines ring within their hearts
a message to nations
For the Love of the Language ———————————————————————————————————————
(Dedicated to new poetry with the birth of Sophie June )
Merely words
With many possible meanings:
Dew-tips through my veins
Between soul and thought —
Sustaining…
Mere words
But with power — God-anchored —
Fully
To His purposes. Signs .
Of creation…
Words…
Run on ‘til found well partnered:
Their meanings tried
Together into
Mere phrases —
Chanced dances of expression —
Seeking to call out each soul’s
Deepest held desire.
Chosen verses,
Embroidered with embellished
Ribbons
of
Rising songs —
Garments to dress our hearts’
Knit hopes, cabled feelings —
With invitations and dialogues
Sewn into the seams
Throughout
Inspired themes
Seen
Arising
Everywhere
Awakening
For truth
Seeking
With inspiration
Chosen
Simple psalms
To explore the paths
From mere words to the light
Of radiant
Points
Along galaxies’ ends,
Revealing
In each syllable’s sigh
God expounds
His eternal Love
Asking only for
Ears to hear
And eyes to see.
—————————————————————————————-
(c) sally young eslinger 6/1/22
Thanks be to God…(If only my
mother knew…)
At birds' eye view, from an icy frosty windowsill,
8 stories high: I see a city forest full of snowy powdery
pillow packs stacked
These are spread out making a white-out
of black streets lanes
Then piles of pearly ivory fluffy flakes
cascading into tall white iceberg mounds;
greatly abounding in an isolated city that is fully bound
Trees huddled and cover themselves in
white parkas; this of snowflake designed fleeces creating
a blanket white newly made canvas for me the delighted Artist
People are frozen in their village,
neighborhoods being effectuated with the
season's frigid chilly chilled cooled air;
nipping at many red young and old numb ears
Ice vapors of a foggy mist
does tint white car's windowsills
The City sidewalks and streets has
transparently merged into one white snow sheet
Snow summits also rise high with
white zenith peak tops
People are enjoying forming
snow tunnels and igloos and
snow men and snow angels
And some people sculpt ice statues
These come into being at just below
zero temperatures of freezing
Icicles are nature's cold calling cards;
this having a very slick and cold feel touch
At this time youngsters are receiving their
reddish noses and pink red rose cheeks
Black boots, snow shoes sink in a
foot deep of snow slushing to race home
A flurry of snow scene experiences
are how most winters are known back home
The tossing of powder with frost-bite
fingers and colorful blue hue toes that are ice cold
This season has its celebration of the Christmas day: this
the time of “Christ Birth,” the reason why I and others do pray
The theme of all things each and every day; in a heart that is very merry,
light hearted and amazed for the many wonders given to us yesterday,
today and years to come every glorious day
Two bulbs in the living room are broken
The light is lying down on the sofa
Fatigue and weak
The tag in the toilet leaks
day and night it drops
There is no sound from the TV speaker
Just let it be silent
If someone ask you out for a date
You dare not to say yes
Eat, Drink, and walk alone
Waiting for someone on WeChat to respond
Desperate love in throat it congested
and cannot be taken out
A woman without a lover
Clasp a few poetic lines to sleep
to warm heart
by the moonlight outside the window
Blended themes of hopes and dreams now seasoned by the years.
Awakening at dawn to the gift of a day, no longer wrought by fears.
This gift of time is most sublime as death's doors creep so near,
keep close the ones you love the most and all that you hold dear.
Hidden in the dawn of each new day are the subtle opportunities
that God gives away. With a humble heart my thoughts align, so
blessed to be granted this miracle of time.
The chorus blazes,
chaperoning the gloomy pollution of mortal extinction.
Bridges of anxiety rupture harmony,
as havoc reigns from the skies of Ukraine.
The breaks condition ruin,
while these paintings exhibit the atrocities of battle,
as the prey can only pray when the predators are pursuing.
The chorus of a familiar song, the bridges that burn eternal.
The breaks are as old as time itself,
where mankind creates its purgatory journal.
A hell of our own making,
where the cold thaws and the stings are hot. Hyperthermic agonies push millions to evacuate sanity from the first shot.
The chorus of ruin,
bridges hold carcasses under its rubble.
The search for shelter,
the breaks in a time of trouble.
Life relocated,
love sought among strangers.
The losses of the devasted,
choruses filled with dangers.
Bridges between verses,
the sound as the concrete breaks.
The narrators of torment,
eliminate the population in between shakes.
So how does the song end,
Where does the chorus fade?
How will the bridge be built,
are there breaks in the history made?
Will history sing a song of victory,
full of beautiful choruses, bridges, and breaks? Will the harmony complement the verses?
Does the scribe survive the earthquakes?
Soli, Soli, then be Tacet!
Soli, Soli, then be Tacet!
Ossai,Ossai, Rubato,Tenuto
Ossai, Soli.
Adagio? Adagio: no, no, no !
Vivase! Vivase, Vivase!
Da Capo!
De Capo!
Divisi, Cresendo,Cresendo!
Aria, Arai, Mastros baton wishes
me to sing., legato, legato
ah- buto concerto!
they prayed for six spheres!