Best There Poems
There is a poem in my heart,
that beats in different dialects.
Da ist ein Gedicht in meinem Herzen,
which flows freely through my veins.
Il y à un poème dans mon cœur,
that tickles the tip of my tongue.
Existe um poema no meu coração,
which dances with a million sighs.
Wo xinzhong, youyi shou shi,
that is suppressed by emotionless expression.
Mery dil mein bi aik nazam hai,
silent, as it cannot be heard through speech.
Jest wiersz w moim sercu,
unwritten, as it cannot be read through words.
Am o poezie in inima mea,
that hides behind a dynasty of lyrics.
Det er et dikt i mitt hjerte,
which only serenades internal chambers.
Yparxei ena poihma sthn kardia mou,
that conducts symphonies with my mind.
V moemy serzi jyve poezia,
which may never be understood.
Mei wor echo kèn non ngasangasei,
that whispers words for my beloved.
There is a poem in my heart,
because my heart is a poem.
The Silent One
25 April 2018
Friends, do not forget: there is still beauty
When the darkness comes and shadows fall,
Music, Art, and nature, gentle comforts
When despair is deep and hope is small.
Friends, do not forget: there is still laughter
When we’ve finished choking down our tears,
When the world seems full of desolation
And we grit our teeth and face our fears.
Friends, do not forget: they have not taken
Kindness, love and friendship from our hearts.
If we can resist the hate and anger,
Maybe we can be where healing starts.
We will rise again tomorrow morning,
Sunshine follows even darkest night.
Think of this when you feel close to breaking
As we walk the long road to the light.
November 2016
Picking a rose in a garden of Sundays
Calling your name on a broken branch wind
Looking for clover where weeds are not welcome
Walking the bridge till its time to begin
Dancing in puddles now filled up with laughter
Running through traffic as cars speed away
Searching for words in the headlines of morning
Writing of moons and the stars on display
Collecting my thoughts when I think I will never
Painting a smile on a rusted front door
Lifting a rock just to see what is under
Shopping for clothes in a grocery store
Looking through openings cut in the carpet
Reaching atop lonely sycamore trees
Juggling penguins, now where did that come from
Asking a bird what it knows about bees
Planting a bush in the depths of the ocean
Baking a cake in a rooftop design
Sweating the small when the big stuff does happen
Thinking of beer when I’d rather have wine
Wearing a frown in the moments I’m happy
Pushing a cart with a wobbly wheel
Lurking in shadows that form on the sunset
Dreaming of things that are hopefully real
Finding that all I have written is nonsense
All of the verses above will now show
When all I wanted to say was I love you
Like in these stanzas I’ve written below
Penning a poem to say what I’m feeling
Wishing the phrases will reach to your heart
Sending you hints of my steadfast devotion
Scribbling fonts that we never shall part
All that I am is now all that you make me
There is no one that this man could love more
You are the girl that I’ve wanted forever
Eternally you’ll be the one I adore
So there you have it, quite crazy but true
Poetic ramblings from deep in my mind
Where it is light with some dark in the corners
There is no telling the things you might find
11/03/19
The reason I think this poem is Trophy Worthy is it is one of my favorite poems, because it is me. A good amount of fun and nonsense and a lot of beautiful love which is what fuels my pen. I believe my cadence and rhymes are very good and it was a fun poem to write. I think those who read it really enjoyed it because it made them smile and that is usually my goal when writing poetry.
There Will Never Be Enough Time
There will never be enough time to hear unique
music of nature's songs in its birds, its insects,
in songs of the wind, or the sounds of the sea.
Or how earth breathes and is alive through its
caves and caverns, through its crystal rocks in
bell tones that ring soothing sounds for the soul.
There will never be enough time to visit all the
wondrous places this glorious earth has to offer.
Nor enough time to read all the talented poetry
our new technology provides us with online and
in favorite poetry books of masters long dead.
Poems that so inspire and leave hearts on fire.
There will never be enough time to view all the
sights in glorious colors of sunrises and sunsets,
of twilight's shadows and intricate silhouettes.
Nor the light on the mountains in verdant display
as mist weaves its magic o'er splendorous pines.
Sights that inspire thrill and enthrall so profoundly
with the beauty of it all, as each day's a divine gift.
There will never be enough time to breathe in life's
blissful perfume in scents of many flowers in bloom,
in lilac's, gardenia's and the magnolia's sweet scents,
or in petrichor's heavenly aroma from rain's dalliance.
In scents from the seaside or the mountain's fresh air,
in Mother Nature's great gifts of her fragrance so fair.
There will never be enough time to behold your love
in the grace of God's minion in spiritual connection.
That feeling of oneness, that special spark from all life
as it spreads contentment and warmth over body's
decay in knowledge we will all realize birth once again;
that all feelings matter in our Karmically created laws.
Yet, there IS enough time to give thanks and rejoice for
every life is precious no matter of life's circumstances.
3-3-19
*Dedicated To Robert Lindley whose poetry inspired this poem.
Come walk with me,
for the path cares not,
the age of your feet.
Look at the butterflies on petals,
their silence does not care,
the language you speak.
Listen to the orchestra of birds,
they sing with sincerity,
care not if you follow God.
See how the trees stand so tall,
their mature branches care not,
about your wallet's wealth.
Feel tiny raindrops kiss your face,
their refreshing mercy cares not,
for the vibrant colour of your skin.
Let's bathe in calm waves,
for their ripples care not,
if you are a boy or a girl.
Relax in the glory of the sun,
it's warm rays care not,
if you are blind, deaf or mute.
Drink from cool spring waters,
for its juices care not,
who's mouth hydrates from it.
Here, hold my pen,
for the ink will never judge,
how you express your scars.
In darkness, let us lay together,
to gaze at an abundance of stars,
they care not, how you spell your name.
They shine for us all,
regardless of the moon.
Sunday Musings
Silent One
8 November 2020
This is an example for my current contest, 'There is a star with my name on it.'
I took a unique angle to it. I do not expect poems, similar to this one.
Where on Earth or far beyond do we poets go, you ask.
My thoughts willingly stretch my imagination with this task.
I would reply...in any direction our ink chooses to flow.
To the light of dawn or to dark telltale shadows of Poe
There are no boundaries that could rein in a poet's mind,
even if we have the mournful misfortune of going blind.
A poet is not harnessed by sight like a horse to a carriage.
From memory our vision serves us in a sort of marriage,
a bond without rings and vows that gives us wings to fly
among stars, or to realms a common man cannot descry.
To know sin's sorrow, we would walk through a fiery hell
if it would give us the insight that living could not quell.
Inspiration is our weapon, feathered arrows we shoot,
aiming for the rhyming words and chasing in hot pursuit.
Though our muse flees, and crumbled pages lie at our feet,
our mind struggles in unrest but will not concede defeat.
On ventured missions, traveling where our hearts will lead.
Among distant galaxies, where we collect poetic seed
to plant in fertile delta land or in sandy deserts on Earth,
cultivating cogent lines, to which our scribing gives birth.
Fathering or mothering verses from infancy to fruition.
Editing until at last, our brainchild is worthy of submission.
We see far beyond mundane realities of life and reason.
Writing from the heart, rebuking the penalty of treason.
We wind through mazes of each personal poetic anecdote.
Exposed is our nakedness in each lyrical line we ever wrote.
June 20, 2022
2022 Marathon Mile 4 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Mark Toney.
Oh! how love has bloomed—
fantasies like wild flowers plucked
a collection of candlelight craves and desires
fill a wistful star-maiden’s basket;
a bouquet of white asters from Orion’s garden
grown in a fiery field of light against night
gathered in a hazy ribbon
and held in the bosom heat
of this Autumn bloom’s passion
tender is the kiss blown from star-dusted lips
a need to gain goodwill in the "om" of zodiacal light
incandescence in full blow from a single breath;
fireflies in a fervor find favor
with the midnight-scene-stealer; Selene
of locks of hair fair and skin lustrous bare
fertile with romantic flair—
as this swooning flesh-and-blood-angel
closes her eyes and seeds her dream
with the sheer intimacy and cosmic love-play
of wishes wooed
amid astral petal-points pulsing with promise
rosy sparks burn in a slow-dance dip..
one slips through the water-colored layers connecting
Sun of bright and Moon of dark in the thrill of twilight
where hues suspend in sensual rendezvous until
merge of his-and-her-skies diverge until the next dawn -
there! up there..
falls a star with my name on it
and here..
laid into your wished-for-hands;
a stargazer’s galaxy of heartbeats
with y o u r name on it -
as this dreamy red aster smiles falling like a star
for y o u
among green foliage and slender twigs, perched a graceful mellifluous Nightingale.
Chickadees, Robins, Orioles stopped their synchronised cadence of rhythmic tweets, in anticipation..
a tranquil silence fell in the forest, a quiet trance around...
tall majestic trees stopped swaying their aspiring branches,
plants and shrubs and bushes softly emanated saffron scent,
rustling fragrant breeze whispered lilac mystery,
chartreuse clouds stooped and gently touched the treetops,
tangerine twilight moon flickered ribbons of love,
ravishing flowers opened their petite petals blazing red blush in awe!
Nightingale sang the most melodious song, sprinkling amber passion,
It sang a symphony pouring its heart, weaving
the story of eternal love and loss,
mesmerizing the audience with lavender dreams and hopes
a dazed forest stood still ...
All hushed !
Written May 6, 2021
POTW May 9, 2021
All Yours - June 22, 2021 -Brian Strand
FIRST PLACE
I could not make sense
of the wonder
would stand
bewildered and mute
I could not open
and let out
the feelings that well
from my depth
I could not speak truth
and would choke
on the unsaid words
in my throat
The easel beholds a half finishing painting
The paints beside have all hardened
Pain reflected in the partial emptiness
Staring back at that gathered crowd
The sun melts on the canvas page
Creation explained in elapsed rage
Notions and pleas from dried paintbrushes
Strewn across the almost barren floor
One to the other in whispered voice
I wonder if this would have been his choice?
Empty wine bottles twirling in light
Beside the dead body, a painting just right
There lies Art
In repose
His final painting
His last prose
There was nobody who could come and weep at his graveside.
So we invited the misty mountain, the gusting moorland
And meandering little river where he had sat down and fished;
But, they were all previously engaged. still, we went anyway.
Someone had to lower the coffin...and songs refuse to sing
If nobody is there to listen.
There are long years to come ,and I know
I would never lick fresh sweetness
from the sugar of your lips
Nor will I taste the salty tears of last goodbyes
But my beloved...
there will never be a sunset without me thinking of you
I'll think of you with perpetual affection
As I stroll by the river,I seek your reflection
I touch you,I'd feel you through fragments of memories
Memories of better times
Of flowers and breeze,Vineyards and fields
I touch you in memories that will never leave
I see you,I see you with the eyes of a child born blind
beyond the perception of shade and light
I see you in the same way He sees his world, and lives each dream
With a crazy sensation of intense hues
above the spectrum of unrecognized blues
And I love you, but how do I love you
I love you with all that I was and all that I'll be
I love you with my silence and solitude
With my spirit's exhale,and all that is me
I love you with the depth of where my heart resides
Between what is real,faith,and where illusion abides
I love you not with my flesh and bone
But with a bleeding emotion that lives
in my infinite soul.
There is a storm brewing and it is in my head,
Words are swirling in a mighty roaring wind;
Like colourful leaves tumbling and twirling,
And then it is raining adjectives and nouns;
The dark clouds are sailing across the sky.
I try to grasp the words and put them together,
Now syllables are cascading from above my head;
The metaphors, similes, alliterations at my feet,
A whirlwind takes them away as I pick them up;
Periods and commas and semi-colons drift by.
In my head I am putting a poem together,
Stanzas like beautiful wet trees are sparkling;
And the wind is blowing, the thunder is booming,
My dreams of verse gliding away in the tempest;
A violet explosion and a thunderbolt, an idea.
Leaf strewn leaves utter a wail like a violin,
Oh the sky is painfully dark and angry;
I gather all my words to my weeping heart;
Holding them like precious gems I love,
Then I wake- the birds are singing outside.
______________________________
April 18, 2016
PoetryVerse/There Is A Storm Brewing
Copyright Protected, ID 16- 779-037-0
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
Summer Premier
Brian Strand
Fifth Place
_____________________________
A Storm Is Brewing
Kelly Deschler
Third Place
Let me tell you, child, before you grow
About your life, things you should know
There will be times you need to contemplate loss
There will be mountains to climb and rivers to cross
Each moment is precious, so enjoy every one
Live for the moment and follow the Son.
He won’t forsake you in your darkest time
There will be mountains, He’ll help you climb.
Teardrops and laughter, sunshine and rain
Love and happiness, heartaches and pain
You’ll face all of these in your own day
Each is a blessing in its own way
Facing those challenges, crossing those streams
You’ll find special moments living your dreams
Sometimes you’ll be angry and sometimes you’ll stray
There will be mountains that stand in your way
You’ll look to Jesus when you’re in need of a Friend
There will be mountains that you will ascend.
What might you find there
down deep in my soul
Within the darkness
of that expansive hole
Will there be substance
Will there be diamonds or coal
Step down the stairs quickly
at the door pay your toll
If you wish to be a voyeur
there will be plenty to see
Unclothed and oh so gorgeous
beautiful women are plenty
Yet the guilt from these carnal thoughts
makes me feel a strange empty
I long for their pleasure
yet I yearn to be set free
Walk a bit further
see deeper to my core
You have just scratched the surface
do you really want to see more
My soul is a vast ocean
no ceiling and no floor
Liquid and expansive
molton lava shore to shore
There is plenty of love there
tremendous courage it's true
I have known my share of pain
there is much that I've been through
Roads I've traveled are many
dark alleys quite a few
I've found the way to the light
my heart is forged a steel blue
If you travel far enough
you will bathe within light
The darkness a shield
to protect this soul with might
Beyond the locked door
my soul rises like a kite
Only those who have courage
can fly to such great height!
For Frank's Contest