Best Thornless Poems
I gaze beyond
the silver winged
heart of
twinkling twilight,
lost within metaphors
in warm cashmere
bows of midnight.
Whilst lava lamps
for lost souls
f l i c k e r across
a maze of melancholy,
ghosts of past whispered
surreal sagas through
subtle mists~
silky snow that
d r i z z l e s
in the shape of crescent,
slowly trails
my moon-kissed skin.
If only the stars
of scarred silence
spoke the voiceless
truth raised from
the arms of trauma~
not every glowing
ray is destined
to be your wish
come true,
I was sculptured
in hailstones
of burnt ice,
and my ivory nails
drowned in the color
of your fire blood.
I am the throned
mistress of massacres,
a walking black storm,
that strikes onyx lightning
upon pearlescent
roads to hyacinth healing.
For everything
I touched
became frost,
when heavy clouds bled
to paint the skyscape
in citrine powder.
Perhaps, there is
no need of stretching
your fingers in gratitude,
as it shall
soon abandon
every lucky charm,
like the death of poetry
within inked
pages of
an accidental poet.
Yet, I still see
the unwritten
verses in your dewy eyes~
unsung
poetic confessions,
written in
diamond and rust;
“you’re the poison
I’m willing to take”
Like how romeo
died in the name of
a forsaken tale
told by the infatuated
soul of his Juliet~
Cupid’s bow still
is adorned with her
love-struck tears
that emanate
unshed truth.
So let, the alchemy
of dreams concoct,
a perfumed potion
from black
quartz rain,
to ease this caricature
lifetime of memories~
chasing sonnets
contrived in sorcery,
to seize the stories
of
misplaced prophecies.
whilst hope is flying
on paper wings
of a dark
horse carousel,
where my past self
was crystal-gazing,
to see the crown
carved from rhinestones
of shattered glasses,
piercing through
my honey mane.
But, this immortal
heart will remain
in a museum of
Monet’s garden,
where sorrowful
serenades linger
above thornless roses.
For I am heaven
and hell for you,
in everlasting awakenings
transcribed in turquoise
topaz till tomorrow…
Take me where merlot skies serenade songs of serenity,
I long for timeless tulips that twirl in beloveds embrace,
Where love is a thornless red rose, unfurling eternity,
hope thrives with tuscan gold blossoms, sprouting in glistening grace
I long for timeless tulips that twirl in beloveds embrace,
Fireflies flicker sterling sparks on the creek of my aching heart,
hope thrives with tuscan gold blossoms, sprouting in glistening grace
I condemn the many sunless mountains that keep us apart
Fireflies flicker sterling sparks on the creek of my aching heart,
In your unwritten absence, my peace knows no tranquility,
I condemn the many sunless mountains that keep us apart,
Even the moon envies twin flames, that burn in sheer clarity.
In your unwritten absence, my peace knows no tranquility,
As we are like wildflowers, wading through a poetic place,
Even the moon envies twin flames, that burn in sheer clarity,
like divine dahlias lost in a rhythm within cosmic space.
As we are like wildflowers, wading through a poetic place,
where love is a thornless red rose, unfurling eternity,
like divine dahlias lost in a rhythm within cosmic space,
Take me where merlot skies serenade songs of serenity.
When the silk of night falls upon my skin,
I close my eyes,
unlock the heart of stillness,
as thoughts sleep at the back of my breath,
and wordless light
wakes within the pulse,
a lucid awakening ~
tracing tranquility,
for I am nameless,
undisturbed and untouched,
by the ghosts I once followed,
like jasmine among wild violets,
like lotus among forgotten reeds,
thornless and fragrant,
in sync with the
frequencies of the formless cosmos,
sprinkling stardust
upon my crystalline consciousness,
calming the racing thoughts
that once controlled
the motion of emotions…
O beloved,
feel these feverish fingertips,
forsake the labels hung
across my sky of healing,
as in this mindfulness,
I abandon the emptiness of ego,
to embrace the pristine presence
of hyacinth haze,
the ethereal gaze of your purified aura,
where love and light
moves slowly into
the musicality of meditation…
Tonight, I see beyond the seeing,
and dream within dreams,
to walk through astral ropes
to a place where
there is peace and quietness ~
silence that sings and wraps
this soul in rainbow radiance,
a petrichor of rising rays,
where memory holds no misery,
and the mind homes
the musky mists of clarity,
detached from darkness
erasing the cluttered noise,
and that which dragged my
silhouette to the dusk…
So feel me,
I am the kundalini light
and the magical mirror that
reveals the gossamer glow of gold,
for I seek nothing,
but thoughtless awareness,
sitting in my muted orbit,
like a blooming flower
facing the phases of the moon
with resilience and patience,
silence, my saffron salvation
serenity my sanguine sanctuary,
this zen ~ my zealous zephyr …
I n v i s i b l e threads,
a mystical m i r a g e,
binding the silhouette of the sky
to the
skin of cinnamon sequels
in the deep blue chakra
that sees beyond
illusive clouds,
carrying rainbow roses
and thornless buds
quenched with jasmine rain.
Yet I remain engrossed
in the rising haze from cornea rivers,
facing the sun
amidst silenced stones,
counting unwept
diamonds that ebb and flow
through the pool of peace lilies,
and violet vapors,
veiled in violin breeze,
ricocheting like
the h e a t
of throbbing heartbeats…
Remember,
I taste the sundrops
you feel in solitude,
I’ve been listening to
your e y e s ~
stories spun from luminous lies,
pain streaming behind saffron smiles,
unrolling polaroids of angst
through the lens of life,
while the
gossamer gold of gloaming
mirrors the poem
between your sore sighs,
like dilating daisies
in the heart of the midnight iris…
And through your pupils,
I’ve found the reason
to rhyme~
bleeding pleas of love
with whimsical words,
dusted with periwinkle,
glazed with crystals,
amidst the gusts of grief
cloaking your conscience,
when wintry woes
suffocate your cashmere spirit.
But I still
am an origami enigma,
sleepwalking in silence,
aching to reach the chandelier cinders
flickering above~
pillows of patience…
This I write not to the
crestfallen Luna,
but to the galaxies
twirling as moon-tulips
above lashes dusted with liquid lilac,
as I am a misplaced metaphor,
etched with empathy,
kohl tears on petals,
pricking fragile fingers,
like thistles of time…
I feel beyond what I breathe
and I see hidden hues,
for in my eyes~
there is no need for poetic phrases
when soul is tied to
the strings of immortal blossoms
in your garden of pristine petunias
l a c e d with
unbreakable vows…
Rose Meadow
Into a lovely enchantment I wander
Soft stardust sprinkles a meadow of night blooming roses
In perfumed hues of scarlet-rose and lavender-gold
Stretching out my cramped and cockled legs
Into thornless rhapsodies of drowsiness
In floral fields I embrace intoxicated reveries
Returning me to the fragile rose meadows
Of lyric verses that fall like velvet tresses
A dulcet supplication delicate as petals of a dreaming rose
When moonlight nectars drip with midnight’s invitation
Float into the lacy blush of dainty filigree shadows
Twine my sinuous spirit and chorded heart in dreams unity.
4/26/23
Cockled means crumpled, creased
if my soul ever wept like a rose
drunk on thornless scents ...
would you, O love ,
trace the lips of time ,
glazed with passionate patterns
of poison and starlight?
untying the rubies of romance ,
sleepless, infatuated ... with the flame
of your pensive pixie-fire ...
I long for you, to pulsate in lush lilac
as the sunset bleeds in your tattoos
dressed with tequila temptations,
read me ~ like a poem ~ laid bare
as I unfurl softly, a luna-pearl ...
lovesick .. in liquid pink lustre ,
dreaming of dulcet demons
in the kiss
left by leafy fingertips
of tie-dyed july ~
on my waning heart ...
I am love’s kiss eternal
leaning upon
the lips of loyalty
O artisan of relentless flare
I validate every verse you vent
vehemently breathing
through the sighing silence ~
venerating this sculpted ivory skin
stirred and awakened
by your inherent intuition
charmingly echoing
amidst the faithful fingers
of your passionate soul;
a carved creation
chiseled in chivalry
draped in the desire
of a destiny designed
engraved away
from the ruthless rays
of the sinister sun…
I am awake…
no longer a marble metaphor
but alive and entranced
within the shadow
of your affectionate allegiance
listening to the
aroma of this ache
tracing this toned silhouette
resembling the translucent
textures of the moon ~
deaf to the twilight
chimes of the sky,
as the clay of life
nevermore comprehends
this ethereal vow,
this undeniable flame
softened through
the stone-warm touch of truth ~
as your creative choreography
of calligraphy
caresses every curve
embracing imperfect perfection
like I am
the undressed dream
you have forever wrapped
in porcelain patience
like angel-feathered Venus
with blushing wings
of gothic grace ~
scattered seashells
adorned where
thoughts of infinity tiptoe
through Aphrodite’s galaxies
beneath flickers of reveries…
and I belong to no other
but the paradise
within your familiar hands
holding the hope
that dwells within
the heavens of my heart’s pulse
like a forsaken talisman ~
the kismet rose...thornless,
only you were
fated to keep ~
the embossed emblem
of love
even time itself
cannot defy
*Inspired by the artwork "
Pygmalion and Galatea by Jean-Léon Gérôme"
Emptiness.
A vast expanse of waste yet all enclosed,
The only light a thornless rose,
Will my heart withstand the test?
The stars once shone but now are gone,
Love with its once auspicious grace,
Fruitless and sad it lingers on,
Yearns for a now departed face...
Hope now dead,
And all around, want fights light 'till death is found,
And numbéd sound from in the ground,
Kills the sound of life from overhead.
That star is gone, by me loved long,
Within another sphere of space,
Dies the strength of Love's lovely song,
But cannot leave without a trace...
Blackberries start as white dots in a sea of thorns
The flower will fade, and a green berry will join
Protected, it will grow and be pink
Safe from even a massacring mink
Larger, it will swell until it is red
No enemy can lay down their head
Darker and darker until it is black
The berries are ready for an attack
Sour, but delectable
The thorns are detectable
But what about the thornless blackberry bush?
Poor girl, she starts off white
Like the others that night
She grows into a misshapen berry
Unlike the others (who are), lucky? Very.
She stays as the others grow
Poor berry, behind she tows
The rest are protected by thorns of steel
But this poor one just needs a deal
From green to pink to red to black
The other blackberry is held far back
If only she could get some thorns
To protect her from the world's horns
The neglected female, without protection
Her parents have given her no love and affection
The other ones shall grow strong
Their parents are never gone
-September of 2020
Standing in an open field the sun
burned deep through my forehead mesmerized
by the arrow in mychestand the
bullet in my back--motionless quivers a
numbed spine paused my heart in a
rapture of devious contempt from a
long distance voice of panic depression
while lying with a rose petal of thornless
infinity---the bearer of this booklet trapped in a
Zodiac chasm of bottomless neverchoices
chants a harmful chord of courted chaos.
Free admission for the file of names that pass this way
that leave the dead lamp burning for useless
noones---abandon the frenzy wise sleuth and don
the love clown that fits you so well. Service to the innane
truth you call yourself and hope the
arrow bullet blend in a vicegrip ballet--
crippling your for afterlife shadow of
uncommon pretense. Take it to the place
where you stand lying down and grovel in your own
wasted time with little notion of grevious malice. There
is no pain only longing---no death only one size
fits all nothing and hear the vultures laugh
lovingly in the distance. Eat at Joes.
There is a glare of stray sunlight
daring to reverberate
through spiderwebbed glass I haven't
found energy to fix
in the span of four years.
It is too much of a mirror,
too tangible a thought,
to make new.
It's lithe fingers, thin and bony,
and mockingly bright,
steal over embossed cardstock that arrives, like clockwork,
in deepest sympathy.
And a thornless bouquet of pastels laden with
Babies Breath
only draws on blood long lost;
nobody seems to comprehend such an allegory,
or lack there of,
so it can't be carried
over the steps.
"Bloodless On Mother's Day"
Jenna-Nichole Conrad
Wordsmith
Far back in the cool green shadows
of the woods in a foreign land,
there blows a rose of thornless stock;
it is thornless by Love's reprimand.
The hunters have fled the battle;
the woodland lies placid and still
with naught to break the blest quiet
save for the nightingale's trill.
Kneeling beside the fair blossom
is a maiden of purest heart
whose virgin soul no man has known;
it was reserved for her true love's art.
Nestled against her maiden breast
lies the beast of the ivory horn;
he who discerns the virgin heart,
the magnificent unicorn.
The trees gather round enchanted;
their lacy tops whisper the song,
"home is the warrior from battle
for right is triumphant o'er wrong."
He rests, wings folded, victorious;
enraptured, she cradles his head.
Love is the balm his soul needed
for the wound that rankled blood red.
Far back in the cool green shadows
of the woods in a foreign land,
there blows a rose of thornless stock;
it is thornless by Love's reprimand.
The rose which blossoms eternal
knows the lovers will never part;
it is white for a love without blemish;
it is red for their passionate heart.
Faye Lanham Gibson
Copyright, 1987
For Timothy Lee
I often lose my composure watching you near
for love as a muse stays our passion infused.
My insides ignite, deliciously alive
within sparks your persona designs.
Years of making love have not dimmed
the passion between our her and him!
Each day clarifies we made right choices.
We've bled from our share of thorns, but
being in your arms, more often than not,
is as a comfort bed of silky, thornless roses.
Shared years have not our appetite whet.
Our mutual longing grows stronger yet.
Any day reducing me to bruised or confused
may nighttime heal sleeping wrapped with you.
Love and lust both flame your ardor to ignite
and claim me in sighed, surrendering cries.
Your calloused hands are alpha paradise
on my thighs, your lips tantalize my layers.
Both my skin and mind intoxicatingly spin
making every care disappear somewhere.
My senses mesh elations while flesh bound
'til our capitulation and adoration sound.
Acorns and golden leaves dotted the path before us,
your hand cradling mine like a mug around warm tea.
The steam was our breath, hot and kissing. A hidden
walkway just for us in those woods behind your house.
“…I was so stoned…”
But the school hallway trod a different path, stained in
peer footprints and slurs from the acquaintances you
shunned when alone with me but high-fived when passing
on the football field. I carved your name into my desk.
“…I don’t remember a thing…”
You built a wall in those woods where we walked - erected
it with bricks made from shame and cement that turned my
giddy mouth into a well of stones, grey. The stream that runs
at the bottom of your garden still holds those stones we skimmed.
“…I was so drunk…”
It became a eulogy, a refrain you told me after we stared too
longingly or our faces caressed; a mantra you lived by publicly
when privately your walls were invisible to me. My thornless
vines wanted only to shore up the cracks you felt inside yourself.
“…I don’t remember even seeing you at the party…”
Years later at the reunion the auditorium still smells the same.
A scent of sweat and plastic chairs hovers in the air, mingling with
the memories of your lips upon mine. You turned my sun upside down.
My moon was no longer white but painted the kaleidoscope of a clown.
“…I can’t feel this way about you, not right now…”
The porchlight flickers outside your house still, a firefly’s
electricity dimming. I wonder what would have happened if we
had just been together, been free to be together. Yesterday,
I walked back amongst those dropped acorns and autumn leaves.
Your wall was gone.
A rose can set the tone
In a bunch or all alone
Petals fragrant and fluted
Like a metaphor, red flushed
Like a virgin kissed to blush
Blossom lifted to my lips
A gift from mine to my lover
Perfume bringing us together
Tongue upon the thornless bud
It is the beauty that maintains
The flower stimulates my brain
Trembling and dew decorated
A rose assaults the senses
Tears down all the fences
Leaves open wide on stems
In accepting my loving gift
Can your passion rise swift
As we entwine, climbing vines
Cloris the Goddess of Flowers
You lay naked on a soft bower
Holding your hips, inside you
Timely blossom releases its perfume
A universal metaphor of the womb
Moved by breezes becoming a storm
A rose presented to you from mine
Moment stretches into ****** time
Pollen of love upon your belly