Best Underlined Poems
You were eyes for the man I was - blind
And always without strain you were kind
Love from the heart with no edit of mind
What a day it was I met you - what a find
In awe of your aura - to mesh I was inclined
Our souls with ease from day one intertwined
Faith insisted on our meeting, solid, underlined
There were no keys on backs one had to wind
To say that I am thankful would be misdefined
A new word I would create for us for all mankind
For our story must be familiar one predefined
From up above written in stone and preassigned
I am writing this in monorhyme perfectly designed
Like our friendship it is one, neat and consigned
For you now - delivered, dated and proudly signed
01~11~2015
With Love Armand
Sponsor: Judy Konos
Contest: Write A Poem
- - The way we were
in poetic form, underlined and understood,
unlaced and then,
exposed –
Like chapters taken from the vertebral column
reality now realizes the connection
I am curious
how the glossary of you can still remain:
untouched,
unexplained
. . The illustration being plain . .
Who knows
your definition
when,
Incomprehensible is the selection
_______
Pull me in
again,
to the way we were
The electricity between you and me,
is Magnetic
an uncontrollable sensation,
Quite Mysterious
________
You wonder:
While I am bare and unaware
Will tracing space, aligning lace back in its place,
. . the vocabulary of me . .
Somehow
bind,
your section
to mine
To the way we were,
in poetic form
Together - -
We are underlined and understood,
unlaced and
exposed –
Reality now realizes the connection
_________________
~ Just a little scribble ~
I'm stuck in a puddle of mud,
unable to make a quick decision...
whom should I choose from among
others who have been so noble and kind?
More than a name comes to mind:
Linda, Carrie, Deborah, Catie, Rhoda, Danielle, Charmaine and Karen...
please don't be envious if I choose Carolyn!
You all are beautiful sweethearts, and I wouldn't sell you for a song!
After my day closes in, I check my soup mail...and there they are
those wonderful names flashing on my computer's screen,
and dazzling like precious gems in a crown! Many more should be
mentioned, highly praised and underlined with a marker:
Andrea, Emy, Joyce, Constance, Iolanda, Elaine, Laura and Carol.
One thing I can attest, nobody is greater than the other,
because they all have captured me as I have caught butterflies
with features so distinct and feminine as heroines of modern times!
Carolyn, be dazzled and feel proud, if not hysterically happy;
and if my choosing is fair, why should there be any contention,
or envy among them...I am pretty sure that they have secret admirers,
who in the same manner of awe and respect, constantly worship them!
Cheer up ladies, I have mentioned you all in my praise poem,
but only one gets this special rose...I hope they will send yours today!
I love you all as I love Carolyn for her honesty and graciousness,
then why don't you congratulate her and deepen your admiration?
My praise poem is dedicated to Carolyn Devonshire
living in Florida, USA
You lifted me from the shelf
Looked at my cover
Made a judgment on what was inside
Decided to spend some time
You explored my thoughts
Flipped through my pages
Bent my corners
Underlined my words
Dampened my paper with your tears
Pondered me
Laughed along my lines
I felt loved
Understood
Appreciated
I heard you sigh
Oh how I enjoyed our time together
The smell of your coffee
The rhythmic sound of your breathing
The feel of your hand caressing my pages
You closed my protective cover
Smiled
Placed me on your coffee table
Close at hand
I gladly wait
To spend more time
With you my friend.
I have always thought the books I have read have felt like friends.
I have a hard time discarding books, I am even more loyal with friends.
Being here at the soup has blessed me with many new friends, I thank
you all for removing me from the shelf and taking time to read my pages.
Quiet me with Your love, Lord
The noise of the world is loud
I cannot hear
Your still small voice
Whispering in my ear…..
Quiet me…..
Hush this beating of my heart, Lord
This frenetic pace
Set by the world’s clock of madness
The strive to achieve and do
And forget all about You
Help me just to BE
Quiet me….
Rock me in Your arms, Abba
My heart is battered and bruised
Used and abused
Subjected to public disgrace
I can’t show my face
Dry my tears, Abba, Father
Dry my tears as You rock me in your arms….
To rhythm of Your grace
In the light of Your face
Quiet Me...
Sing over me, Father, sing over me
That eternal song that You know so well
The one that casts out every spell
Born in Your heart of love
That reminds me I’m a child of the King
Under the shadow of His mighty wing
Sing over me, Father, sing over me
Your melody soothes my soul
Your voice calms and makes me whole
Quiet me….
Let me fall asleep in Your arms, Abba
I need to rest
I’m tired of running around
I’m tired of trying my best
It’s never good enough for them
It’s never good enough for me
But…I never need to be good enough for you
I just need to be Me
Your child….Your Little One….The Apple of Your Eye
Let me sleep with the sound of Your heart
That beats in the Word
Lulling me to sleep…as I forget to weep
Oh Lord…Quiet me!
Eileen Manassian Ghali
The Lord your God is with you,
He is mighty to save.
He will take great delight in you,
he will quiet you with his love
He will rejoice over you with singing.
(Zephaniah 3: 17) This is one of the innumerably beautiful verses underlined in my Bible…Yes….Oh, Yes! I need this assurance, don’t you? As a child seeks solace in the arms of a parent, we can seek comfort in the arms of God.
Abba….a Hebrew term of endearment (Daddy)
I looked at theirs in hopes I would find mine
The powerful example in their lives underlined
They showed what they know by their branches intertwined
Instantaneous, long lasting, molded and refined
Beyond futility, their hopes in God enshrined
I have tried to grasp love, hold it tightly confined
Malignant and ugly, not what I hoped I would find
For without a giving heart and a soul that was kind
Love kept from my grip and was trapped in my mind
So I looked to the heavens for colours extreme
What could this failure of mine really mean?
I was baptized in the water of God's Holy Stream
With His gift of true Love this heart was redeemed!
"It's an about love thing". This all started with me not understanding,
Keith Papayrus posted his poem "It's Theirs" I didn't understand it.
Keith was kind enough to soup me a explanation which I found poetic.
His response led to me writing this poem. "conditionally coloured"
was part of his response to me and I thought it should be part of my title.
Thanks for the inspiration my brother of the pen.
just an average typical morning within this same old town
avoiding all the neighbors that nosily creep these grounds
while all these other folks keep busy bodying gossiping and all
who has whiter teeth, bigger boobs, or the cutest guy at the mall
i stopped at the library to dodge all these illiterate snots
the only place that's quite enough for me to organize my thoughts
i walked in just to be stopped, breathless, dead in my tracks
a book, not made of paper or even hard back
binding was some type of stitched authenticism
bound with a beautiful articulate collage of pattern to it
I thought
same old stories, same old narrative
can someone tell me where all the good authors went
I just need an outline, no critique or edit
but everything I read, I feel I have already read it
I stood there for a second, which felt like a lifetime
must have been reading stars, because it left my mind blind
if only just once I could hold that masteredpiece written classic
I can't lie it was perfect man, I just had to have it
I gasped for a moment, dead in my body
frozen and stunned hoping nobody saw me
it crossed my mind for a split, then, I thought
nah ****
if I get caught I'd be a goner, but I just couldn't wait any longer
I thought
same old stories, same old narrative
can someone tell me where all the good authors went
I just need an outline, no critique or edit
but everything I read, I feel I have already read it
I darted for that case in a flash and I shattered that glass
busted it open, like I was late for literature class
static shocked a little as the book touched my hand
it was in that moment i knew i was the #1 fan
then it wasn't long I realized it was written for me
initials imprinted so there was no questioning
I thought
same old stories, same old narrative
can someone tell me where all the good authors went
I just need an outline, no critique or edit
but everything I read, I feel I have already read it
I fell deep into the title it really 'hit a line'
bold, italics, with a dedication underlined
I wasn't sure why I needed or wanted to own it
but I would have searched forever if I would have known it
searching every library for a perfect story
all the titles and endings just really seem to bore me
this one was special I just wanted to trace over the print
read. every small detail. no need for suspense
writing is daydreaming on paper or sometimes straight into a computer.
notes crossed out, smacked around, slashed, re-visited, starred, circled,
checked, underlined, slashed out again, retrieved.
after print has happened, it all begins anew. I count the syllables,
make six hundred tally marks on the page, slash out, cross out, circle,
write OKAY in big letters, draw arrows, put Xs, start rearranging.
Using 1, 2, 3, and A, B,C, as I valiantly try to figure out where
the next line is going, or whether to even keep it.
I sit down to figure it out, and decide it will be easier to begin
again, rather than edit what has already been typed. So I begin again,
slashing, dashing, drawing, starring, circling, smacking, cracking,
discarding, resurrecting.
the life of this writer.
You Live once
It’s not like the battles of the sexiest, where fairy is made
Out off.
It’s the reality that no one can’t flee from,
it’s an inescapable reality
We all wonder how it would be like,
since none was inconveniency
To uncover the story of the paradise.
With the myth that waits to be unfold,
History waits for no one, even though the world is
In search for its true love
Troubled that it may encounter the opposite
Death is the threats, Eish it’s the case
Let me take you back to the sensation,
where my
Life was threaten,
sun stopped and occurrence took place,
For a second I thought it was a dream,
my brain was gone
Eventually I came back to life,
with my pride stolen,
my mouth half naked,
Menstruation flowing through jaws, unplanned,
Tears dropped like
Winter storm, as sunset transpire,
the mission was complete, the journey
Was cut shot, we were no longer passengers,
street was indeed a place called home,
Eyes bleeding, my eyes were burning like chilli.
Determined by a fake smile I made,
For a moment I thought
#Rip human kind sow, for Facts are not underlined
Life seminar repeats, from generation to generation
Articulate, eloquent, by my story above.
I for once outline the illustration of the gift i have,
Base on the lesson I’ve discover while on the wild.
Visualize an Image of a burning shack,
to trace the image,,
I had
It’s like a sharp knife running through veins
Fate Lost in the wilderness, in the foreign land.
By the time sun touched the ground, .
night Dies in commotion,
Moon rejoices with Delightful that the world is theirs...
Forbidding that some are broken,
I asked sum of many, if where is he, when I’m lonely,
Pictured his home turning over, Rising from the grave,
Lines running through the patterns I’ve created.
I waited for the Texture mode to unleash,
uncertain if he knows i exist, but i didn't want to be the one to discover his
or his not existence, so i prayed for one, one more chance to live, one more day,
one more hour to kiss my mothers forehead.
Love is Blind
Love is blind.
Keep in mind.
When it drops as free fall on you,
either old gold or fragrant new
casting always spectacular view,
in raw red, is wildly unrefined.
Love is blind,
yet unkind,
when lavender love is not reflected,
ignored by blooming beloved,
primrose passion unappreciated,
sweet heart just left you behind.
Love is blind
and entwined,
when it flows in rhythmic resonance,
twin flames brighten deep dependence,
sepal-petal bond of emerald elegance
gains cherry charm of love to rewind.
Love is blind
underlined
on First Love as Rosy Realization,
One-sided Love as Drooping Depression
Mutual Love as Platinum Perfection.
Pearly Pain blends in love of each kind
Love is blind.
How to find
Lost Love floated and waved with flowing river,
Silent Love devoid of demand drowned forever,
Locked Love closed,controlled, cared never,
Weeping withering brittle buds can remind.
03/25/16
Cliche Poetry Contest Second place
Sponsor Silent One
You Select Again
Contest by Brian Strand
I dripped between the cracks
Of my own convoluted mind
fearful and excited at the same time
Wandering in the small large spaces
Wondering what I might find
Searching for sharp barbed tiny bits
Those unreconciled "it's"
All the things I thought were the pits
The words that made me feel like the shits
You may try and see
the me
the he
the one who wants to be
More filled
Less empty
Fully engaged and free
More noteworthy
A symphony
Less occupied
More open and kind
Instead my thinking and blinking never quits
Why do I spend so much time doing this
While others seem so contented in their bliss
I sit in a black ink colored shadows
instead of enjoying my lover's kiss
Looking for the unknown underlined
Intertwined with the unkind
The visions of one metaphorically blind
caught behind
The veil of my mind
The answers
The Consciousness I was seeking
Words I am unable to keep speaking
Yet now I've begun being
Now I'm truly seeing
It's within God that I'm breathing
No longer seething
My heart is calmed
He slows down it's beating
Light within my tiny big spaces
No more sadness
He removes all traces
I now see forever
My mind no longer races
I travel in peace to inner places....
Remember how you spent
half An hour
calculating It would be wetter
walking Not cycling
double underlined It
theN
Got the bus home
Doors
How fitting that the band’s name derived from Aldous Huxleys’ treatise
‘The Doors of Perception’ that purely aesthetic philosophical story of
life through the window and door I suppose of psychedelia and drugs
In a marriage of heaven and hell ‘Baby light my Fire’ perilously casts
a shadow of what became when he hatched through the final portal
unhinged wasted high as an angel the one and only Jimmy Morrison
‘This is the End’ the final curtain which Jimmy painted in words when
brilliance and despair talent and all those voices in his head were laid
to a final resting place and conclusion of a life pruned and cut so short
The end underlined the movie ‘Apocalypse Now’ in its brutal reality
in a world that does not need reality shows to distract from evil in
which Vietnam and the Holocaust are forgotten and history repeated
Jimmy’s father had been an Admiral in the forces and my father a
General had thought that years on the Russian front could be expunged
by joining NATO’s Cold War delusions fighting for Peace with ready guns
My own rebellion has been quite mild rather mellow but I wonder
how close I have sailed to the wind resisted the calls of Baader and
Meinhof have not bowed to the needle avoided full blown opposition
No comparison in talent for sure and I believe that Jimmy suffered
psychosis and I got away with depression but nevertheless in truth
it is the world that suffers from schizophrenia seems to dabble with
Mescaline induced decomposed compositions when true colours are black
‘This is the End’ and ‘Light my Fire’ misunderstood when genocide beckons
The year before her death
My mother underlined
Those verses in the book
She thought explained her pain.
She dated final months
In promises that told
Of One who knows and cares.
Of One who sees past woe.
Her last typewritten words,
A single line of thought,
Spoke final loneliness
The book could not assuage.
Her agony blamed me,
Which was not her intent,
Of fearful distances
Made palpable by death.
In the fresca of her reckless dream
were halos, multi-colored
Cynosure is simply glowing
with glamour, never knowing
the dream, the wish, her fantasy
is fragile reverie
Is a place to fear, will waste her years
and where her whims have led
It will lead her on a lissome road
that's paved with gold, she'll see
but also cold, where she could freeze
with empty years to dread
A chatoyant moon up in the sky
appears to leave no warning
And words we know, like backs of hands
are not clear words she'll understand
Where fairytales, and charming men
ineffable and kind, deceive the human mind
Who can define
or hide the truth, that's underlined, mistook?
Mellifluous music. is all she hears
Adagios, to fill the ears,
contain her storybook
While watching her, our ingénue, demure and pale
She'll soon grow old behind the veil, panacea of tall dreams
She'll fade into the mythical, her fairyland of schemes
Sempiternal devotion, is not for everyone
For sometimes cruel emotion, will take the heart and run
___________________________________________
Inspired by Silent One's
Ten Word Challenge
Words Used:
Chatoyant:
Cynosure: .
Demure:
Glamour:
Ineffable:
Ingénue:
Lissome:
Mellifluous:
Panacea:
Sempiternal