Best Too Poems
Too good - to ever last suggested bpm 80
Vs1
When we first met, I never thought
that you could ever love me...
You were the brightest star shining
so high up above me...
Bridge
I loved the way you stared, with your sparkling eyes...
I loved the way you laughed, out loud until you cried...
I loved the way you moved, with such grace and finesse...
I loved the words you used, the way you'd catch your breath...
Chorus
Guess it was too good... to ever last
I knew the end was coming... but not so fast
I thought the good times... just might be enough...
I guess you got tired ...of my simple love
Vs2
I remember when you said our first kiss
gave you the shivers...
And every time that we made love,
I'd watch you gently quiver
Bridge
I loved the way you stared, with your sparkling eyes...
I loved the way you laughed, out loud until you cried...
I loved the way you moved, with such grace and finesse...
I loved the words you used, the way you'd catch your breath..
Chorus
Guess it was too good... to ever last
I knew the end was coming, but not so fast
I thought the good times, just might be enough...
I guess you got tired ...of my simple love
Postlude
Now in the heart of the night,
nightmares fade from view
Sometimes when I find peace of mind
I still... dream of you
When we first met,
I never thought that you ...
could ever love me...
December 4,2019
John Hamilton
One windy night upon my breast
I felt the kiss of winter’s breath
A breath that blew me into flight
Upon my breast one windy night
A leaf once green now bathed in red
With coat of spring and summer shed
True color bursting at the seams
Now bathed in red a leaf once green
Upon your breath I learned to fly
A flame of glory in the sky
Not knowing that the price was death
I learned to fly upon your breath
But all too soon I came and went
The seasons of my life were spent
A bud in spring that came to bloom
I came and went - but all too soon
there's too much sorrow...
don't you know
we are all going to die
a starting point always beckons a finish
sooner or later
no matter how
peaceful or painful
that final moment may be
you see...
it will come
for you
for me
There's too much sorrow
war
betrayal
so much I have seen
sickness sapping away
the mother-daughter moments
meant for me...
She struggled bravely
to set my fears free
But MS wouldn't let her be
My Mama left me
There is too much sorrow
the pain of being unloved
of trying to fit in
of trying to play the game
of success and fame
it all comes at a cost
so much is lost...
sacrificial moments
meant for family
There is too much sorrow
refugee misery
nowhere to be
no home
no destiny
just abject poverty
hearts left hungry
for a love
that the world
will not let them see
There is too much sorrow
tonight my heart is heavy
I'm tired of goodbyes
I'm tired of trying to fit in
I'm tired of pretense
I'm tired of...me
There is too much sorrow
Eyes are blurring
I can't see
the last lines I'm meant to write
Too tired to fight
Survival more than it's pumped up to be
Sleep....obliviousness of a dream
sweet it seems to me
you see...
There is too much pain
So write...
write for me
of happy
of make believe
of heaven
and eternity
of no pain
or misery
of no abuse
or fatality
of no tears
or cruelty
no more death
for you
no more death
for me
can't you see?
Write of happy...
Please, there is too much sadness here
for me....
Eileen Manassian Ghali
He stood on the street corner
Having a much needed smoke
Somehow we got chatting
And he told me a joke
And i started laughing
The way that you do
He looked at me smiling
And started laughing too
And his dog laughed too.
It became a habit
Ever after that
Every morning I’d stop
For a little chat
And listen to any joke
That he would tell
His supply seemed endless
And he told them so well
And his dog laughed too.
One day I saw the dog
Out with another guy
So I said hello to him
And I asked him why.
He said he was standing in
His dad had had a stroke
So I sent my best wishes
And I really missed his joke
And his dog just looked sad.
I asked about him every day
Was told he was improving
Was chafing at the bit to
Get his recovery moving.
I was so pleased to hear
Of progress like that
For I really missed
His joke and our chat
And his dog looked optimistic.
Then one day I saw him back
Standing there having a smoke
I bid him a good to see you
I’ve missed your daily joke.
We both laughed uproariously
As he told me his latest one
And the dog wagged his tail
All signs of sadness gone
And his dog laughed too.
I guess we can struggle when we sit down to write
But use your own words - to plagiarise isn’t right
When I read a poem that’s simply too good to be true
I then begin to question, was it even written by ‘you’
If I google a few lines will give me the answer
You’re caught read handed – you are a chancer
I just want to read poems that I’ve never read before
If I find copied poems I won’t read ‘yours’ any more
Why claim words from another writer, as it is a crime
You’ll never find stolen words in any poem of mine
7th February 2015
The curtains on a somber evening fell
as weeping angels hush and pull me near;
assurances of love they softly tell,
to calm a soul who lost a love so dear.
Like ribbons on a memory I reach
to tie them all together in a bow,
now wrapped in every prayer that I beseech
and warmed within the heaven's lovely glow.
But, why are Cherished stolen from our midst
before we have a chance to say goodbye -
regrets for one last time we could have kissed
or even one last time we could have cried.
Yet, still through angel tears that damp the dawn,
I can't accept the thought that you are gone...
How sad when things are too far gone -
when pleasures once you knew
are things no more to smile upon.
This plight for some is all too true.
Some souls are captive to their vice.
How sad when things are too far gone
and simple comforts don’t suffice.
To evil some become a pawn!
Some bearing pain become withdrawn:
for pain of body or the soul.
How sad when things are too far gone,
and nothing fills the gaping hole.
Some lose their home or livelihood.
Some live enslaved. There is no dawn
that shines for them with brotherhood.
How sad when things are too far gone.
July 18, 2022
for Pick-A-Title, Vol 31 Poetry Contest
Title #1: Too Far Gone
Sponsor: Edward Ibeh
L i f e
I sense your perplexed pulse
within pirouetting pearls,
steeped in sinister streaks,
while fading sparks
of dulcet stars
swing from threads of darkness
on the verge of vertigo,
living in minutes
caught in the crawling contradiction
of tainted t i m e…
O’ f r a g i l e hummingbird,
I hear the hushed hymns
hovering through the ebony haze,
awaiting unlocked gates
adorned with regal rubies,
reflecting heaven that
sings of the sacred.
For in your lonely serenade,
in bittersweet solitude,
you raise fatigued feathers
to the alluring azure,
to heed the heartbeats
of the halcyon haven,
amidst your spirit
drowning in dreariness,
soaked in sadness,
counting cursed crystals
as blessings from the essence
of this endless enigma~
d r e a m gliding in drowsiness,
drenched in midnight terrors,
flowing between technicolor tercets,
etched in obsidian tears
within the raven prose
of Edgar Allen Poe,
oblivious to the table set,
serving chalices
brimming with
moonbeams and hope,
as you’ve long tasted
toxic embers from hellfires,
in a satanic sphere that knows
not the ingredients of peace,
consumed with hate and prejudice,
perhaps prewritten
from ashes seized
from the Hades inferno,
a spring stolen from the
valleys of dancing daffodils.
So let me waltz
beyond constellations of cruelty.
It’s too late to save the world,
to color the globe in lime green
and blooming blue,
as there is no winning
when the devil sits
on a throne of fickle flowers,
where snakes slither
through the narcissistic eyes
of the emperor~
dressed in deception,
eager to rule the weak and naive
with nothing but the scorching
heat of the serpentine sunsets,
bleeding venomous verses
upon your canvas
that pleads and prays
for compassionate clemency.
I feel the rising
of the merciful moon,
embracing the wolverine warmth,
filling the emptiness between
wicked lines,
k i s s e d by the weeping wind,
as purple phrases across pastel pages,
immortalize the poetic need to
paint the world with l o v e and lilac...
Again she sees those vibrant sleeves of green
And hears those gentle whispers and soft sighs
Alone beneath a willow lost in dreams
An old woman reflects through misty eyes
To see her now so deeply scarred by time
A beauty once now buried in the folds
Upon that road of passion left behind
The bitter price she paid for growing old
The park where they first met is much the same
Where those two hearts she sees again entwined
Engraved upon the stone that bears his name
Upon her soul forever in her mind
A barren stone awaits her by his side
Beneath those gentle whispers and soft sighs
Author: Elaine Cecelia George, of Canada
Author's note:
The title is from a quote of Shakespear which
inspired this sonnet.
In response to my fellow poetess, dearest friend and soul sister, Jennifer Proxenos, inspiring poem “I am Virgo”
I am Virgo too
A September woman
thriving in her Autumn
learning not to sigh over her spring
and summer too!
A gift of Faith
willing to heal her aches.
Her mind, a master in deafening woes
tracing what is fake and low
dwelling in the borders of her heart
making a permanent entrance
nostalgia, dreams.. with a sword
crossing out!
Growing in the shade of Beauty
a giver, her leading role
a leafy tree behind the stage.
Silence, a joyful companion
Time, her friend and foe!
Human connection of a spiritual dimension
What a painful perfection!
The passion within
empowering, awakening
denying her Self a life!
Fine, wise souls
ever attracted to
her beauties wouldn’t for granted take!
Perpetually restoring Self and peace
With Love
I am Virgo too!
The trees are given
to you, to me
The clouds are given
to us, for free
The grass turns green
overnight, prithee
The birds sing sweet
as the honeybee
And if all this seems
too wonderful to be
The whole Earth belongs
to the Lord, you see
~ Gershon Wolf, April 09, 2021 ~
It's a little too quiet now,
I can no longer hear his voice.
And yet, the sound of his laughter
echoes throughout my thoughts and dreams.
He died; his soul is in heaven:
it's a little too quiet now.
And all that I took for granted,
morphed into precious memories.
His tearful goodbye broke my heart:
inside, I heard myself screaming.
It's a little too quiet now:
and the silence is deafening.
I pray to a merciful God;
to let me see him again, soon.
I'm used to hearing his heartbeat:
it's a little too quiet now.
There lies my heart,
Quite ragged, torn -
My father passed
This brumal morn ...
How ruthless came
This face of death,
Warm on my cheek,
His last, soft breath ...
Yet blessed, was I,
Thru grand design,
To walk him home,
His hand ... in mine ...
Oh treasure, sweet,
The folks you love -
Too brief the flame,
Burns life, thereof.
~ 3rd Place ~ in the "Strand Select 8, Any Form, Any Theme" Poetry Contest, Brian Strand, Judge & Sponsor.
* This was read at Dad's service on December 10, 2019, and published in the local paper. He and I were never close, and he had never held my hand until the photo above, (though he was unconscious and never again awake). It is the last picture taken of him. Despite our distance, I was honored to be the one with him when he passed. *
( I love you, Dad ... I'll never know a better man, in every sense of the word ).
Where does the
selfless sun hide
when heavens
r a i n bloodstones?
Burned and inscribed,
from monsoon monsters,
gnawing at our bones,
the shimmering
darkness imbibed,
If only drifting
shades
of gray,
where the tempests
of hell sway,
would hear the hymns
I sleep to
when the clouds steal on cue
the soul of illuminating skies.
I listen to the echoing symphony
of s i l e n t sighs,
convincing soothingly,
pulling me back to soar
new h i g h s
amongst electric choirs,
as angels swiftly swing,
on saffron strings,
to the bass of cellos rising,
above tuscan tambourines.
Yet, I keep drowning
in needless tears,
from pearlized
ponds of fears,
seeing life as how it
has always been forged,
a disappointment
fed through
filthy forks,
who’ve gorged
on the first
of every scintillating
ray of light.
But, what if the sun, too,
needs a savior?
Like an eternal
gem that beams
upon dreary dawns set upon her
draining every
heavy lampshade
of s t a r s
within spheres of novae,
lest the opulence give
way to bruise and decay.
Perhaps, grim gales
gusting in
wrathful bursts
shall finally be the
serenity I need
for I’ve tilled every field
of hurts like raspberry
from the scent
of rose water,
For sometimes,
that’s all it takes,
heeding to freeze through
malevolent thorns in icy lakes.
No matter nature’s placement woes
Of ears and lips and eyes and nose
Or beauty’s plan for symmetry
That makes us each a you and me
No matter fingers, hands or feet
Or weight to lose and scales to cheat
Of length and girth for short or tall
Appendages a size too small
The heart of kindness knows no rules
Of gracefulness that’s learned in schools
Instead its beauty rests assured
Its favor need not be implored
For love which guides a gentle soul
That cares and carries love’s patrol
Needs not to worry form’s design
Most beautiful is love divine