Best Velveteen Poems
These eyes have often been solaced
by twilight's cotton candy pllows moving silently
towards a sky's velveteen blanket
and angels'silver gowns
By gazing over hills
to where old country church bells
and crickets play harmonious sounds
These eyes have often been solaced
by honey coloured shadows
pouring moonlight zest
across the rose plum of my cheek
By little antique lamplights
which illuminate my soul 's dark cobbled street
By winds carrying sea-salts to a fragrant golden sand
By tides washing out corals to a distant land
These eyes have often been solaced by your return
to this vacant room inside my heart
By the hush hushed whisper of your voice
By the embrace of your arms
By the way you love me
By the way you need me
By the way you want me
Like an autumn bonfire
before next sunrise'dew fall
By the way you lean on me
~
Here on the night before yesterday’s dream,
twilight composers retreat
Laughing at whispers a’ flow on the stream,
happily taking a seat
Practicing meadowlark lyrics to sing,
strumming a toadstool in tune
Awaiting the light that the fireflies bring,
blinking a wink at the moon
Tulips with tambourines gather around,
spider web chandeliers glow
Shade tree sonatas, a wonderful sound,
echoing up from below
Pine cone recitals and blueberry sighs,
star dust ovations in rhyme
Choruses sung beneath velveteen skies,
harmonic three quarter time
Orchestral canopies glisten above,
melodic rainbows the view
Performing songs written solely of love,
played on this evening for you
~
I reposted this one because.....I really liked this one. : )
If the sun married the rain - It would become a rainbow (quote by poet)
This aquamarine aquarium is a prismatic prison,
reflecting a reality of a pseudo persona
and I've become tired from pretending
behind this veil of pantomime portrayal
just like the mind of 'Kurt Cobain.'
I hunger for harmony,
desiring for juniper and jasmine,
to weave and wrap their tendrils, tenderly
around an alchemy of angst,
but my shroud is a burdensome blanket,
like a softly spoken voice in a nocturnal nightclub.
I shiver in the sunshine, soaking from secretive
somber storm clouds, creating an autumnal aroma,
so I'm wondering why it's raining in summer,
weeping on fading misty rainbows,
prompting me to pour like a tropical monsoon,
reflecting it's spectrum shadows like
red poppies under a crimson nostalgic November,
orange embers from a dying bonfire,
yellow pages of a forgotten book,
green moss covering a timeworn tombstone,
blue jay upon wilting royal forget-me-nots,
indigo horizons slipping into midnight and a
violet velveteen silhouette in a dimly lit basement.
In windswept moors all I wish for,
is for you to allow me to rest upon your blossom,
like a raindrop - even if it's synthetic.
I'm forlorn in a fathomless fate,
where the Grim Reaper sits on
his throne as the king of kismet.
He was once was an unseen predator,
but now, with enchanting enthusiasm,
he's playing the organ in my hymn of death
Its musical pattern keeps repeating in my head,
like recurring nightmares.
But when turquoise tides return at dusk,
I hope to wash upon your bronze shore,
shimmering like a trail of neon planktons.
I can't keep blaming the pain,
so let it pour... And let me live.
One lone rose tumbled from the basket,
the same as the others but set apart
All were beautiful. They congregated
in one basket, these Southern belles,
but she, with her pink cheeks, tumbled,
she’d cut her ties. She loved them, indeed,
but not exclusively. No one was there
to hold her by the hand. She knew
and cared about the world out there.
all the southern belles
beautiful, adorned in pink ~
one lone rose cut ties
She’d end up in a beautiful bouquet,
dusted off, picked up from the floor.
She was the bride’s favorite - was she
something new or something old?
She wasn’t sure - it didn’t matter,
she was used for a moment in time,
carried as the piano played, as
the crowd stood to admire the bride.
how the bouquet served,
open to severed flower ~
the pride of the bunch
Puffed-up in the part she played.
The lovely pink dustable would be saved,
dried, sprayed. She was loved, as surely
as if she was the velveteen rabbit, boxed
up - almost nearly ever gawked at. Her
favorite time was when a little girl, who
looked so much like the bride of years-
gone-by, opened the box and picked her up.
surprise opening
admired, crushed, and scattered rose
a little girl laughs
She was admired and crushed and
a puckered up lady scooped her up
and kissed her over and over again
telling her of her favorite flower - a foundling
she admired even with its scattered petals.
kisses are gathered
strewn on the cheeky lassie ~
she’s a gift of life
She gave one petal to the mischievous girl -
“God bless you! May this grow into
a pretty bouquet, special and unique.
I’ve been so blessed, dear one.
May your life be so blessed too.”
understanding not
but love was never forgot
for girl’s heart was full
Then the worn out rose saw the old
bride kiss her granddaughter, again,
as they laughed and the girl’s cheeks
turned an eternal pink, taking on the hue
of reignited petals. She would stand apart
from the rest, though she loved them all
would serve the world. Her name was Rose.
her namesake of old
ruffled, lacy, magi’s gift
a blessing from God
9/1/2022
"These woods are lovely, dark and deep,
But I have promises to keep,
And miles to go before I sleep,
And miles to go before I sleep.”
~ Robert Frost
I'm an echo of the salient sea,
weeping in cascading embers
that cautiously creep through
vintage and vine shadows of
a velveteen spirit.
Swept by the corrupt assonance
of graphite seafoam, I float in
obsidian lullabies hummed by the
translucent tides, along darkling
dawns of crepuscular daydreams.
Beautifully blackened in
gold-ochre beams of the
paper sun, wishfully I wither
amidst pale thistles of
decaying dusks as mellow rays
melt in ice-blue vapours of
camphor oceans.
My heart is a severed garden,
strolling as an illusive memory
in perpetual plains of misted ache
and rotten apple-skinned reminiscences.
Laced as a serene embroidery
of turquoise chrysanthemum
weeds in chocolate veins of
marshmallow coffin, I rise akin
cinnabar smog upon cactus-valleys,
For, I'm as elegant as those shiny
fuchsia stars studded along
coral-peacock lawns,
yearning to kiss the ebony silhouette
of crystal-coal midnight.
Will His sapphire fortune
envelop this graceful ghost's
etheree-like shadows
in an emerald-maroon sheath
of pastel herbs and heal every
cell, tangled in cobwebs of confusion,
within shrieking seconds of flaked hours?
I blow smoke of dreams to daffodil streams,
beneath the sky, engrossed in love’s last sigh,
while this heart quivers, drunk on astral fever,
in the kohl-lined arms of the cold midnight,
kissing my soul in silver slivers…
O velveteen warrior, allow my gaze to trace lifelines~
sailing interstellar seas of electric stars
wrapped in whimsical wisps,
to leave our closing phrase on the lips of moon-haze,
as I breathe the silk of Luna’s wistful breeze~
drawn from the rosy dusk of his restless repose...
And this pearl ~ the nebulous clarity ~
emblazoned in pixelated poetry,
shall be the timeless spark of twin flames,
amidst the pull of bruised-blue silence…
There she waits by her window,
gazing up at the velveteen summer sky,
searching for her favorite bituin,
whisper-pondering
Only the kuliglig replies—
The quintessential tune of summer.
Despite herself, she smiles,
happy with the fact that
the sound fills the night air,
drowning out her own thoughts.
Anything is better than silence.
04022012335a355
Filipino-English translation
bituin—star
kuliglig—cicada, or can also be crickets here
It was one lazy afternoon
laying in the hammock
under the azure sky
sheltered from the blistering sun
by the canopy of the old oak tree
chru chru chru
warbles from the Bluebird
can be heard
as she calls for her mate
Closing my eyes
I soar, I soar so high
above the tallest branch
floating free
gliding in the wind
travelling towards the perfumed breezes of pansy fields
watching their velveteen petals sway
like her hips when she dances in the stream
watching their alluring moves
attracting the pollinator
with seducing aromas
Almost tasting the sweetened nectar
soft and smooth like her honeycombed hair
pleasing like her sun-kissed skin
which keeps taunting my dreams
with ephimeral wishes
of untamed adventures
with her.
These eyes have often been solaced by twilight's cotton candy pillows
moving silently towards a sky's velveteen blanket and angels'silver gowns
By gazing over hills to where old country church bells
and crickets play harmonious sounds.
These eyes have often been solaced by honey coloured shadows
pouring moonlight zest across the rose-plum of my cheek
By little antique lamplights which illuminate my soul's dark cobbled street.
By winds carrying sea-salts to a fragrant golden sand
By tides washing out corals to a distant land.
These eyes have often been solaced by your return
to this vacant room inside my heart
By the hush-hushed whisper of your voice
By the embrace of your arms.
By the way you love me...
By the way you need me...
By the way you want me...
Like an autumn bonfire
before next dawning dew fall
By the way you lean on me.
“Slips the Blue Satine”
Desire bites
a sonnet ripped
where the voice projects
through glossy cherry bit lips
down a telephone line
wrapped around long legs
speaking soft words
welcoming you in like a quilled whip
Freedom bites
a too serious sonnet smiles
then progresses to apply
velveteen kisses where the lips
tie a loose noose of words like pearls
around the sound conduit
curbing the mind
whispering to soft curves,
a roadmap
written across body
eyelids, flushed naked cheeks
neck down to hips
where the key turns
poetry speaks
blood drawn
the heart has teeth
Gaga’s gone
all evolutionary
too much of too much
she denudes the blue Satine easily
divesting all hopelessness of
the hounds barking
their haranguing hangdog habits
superlatives exaggerated
hyperbolical expressions of praise
blessed again in the wasted chronicles of time
her hand’s firmly fixed
around the gear stick
stilettos accelerate sharp
instructions from the driver’s seat
switching gears up
behind the fortune wheel
treasure sits
“pull your head back in”, she says
“the Lotus Eaters
at Loon Junction
are on the prowl,
they’ll tear you to bits”.
"humour me," he says,
"let me off my leash".
(LadyLabyrinth/2021)
“Small Town Witch”/ Sneaker Pimps
https://youtu.be/M6zh5rAlZ18
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/The_Velveteen_Rabbit
Sonnet 106.
The Dilettante Diaries: "Goin' Gangsta on the Road to The Lotus Eaters at Loon Junction" -
https://www.poetrysoup.com/poem/the_dilettante_diaries_goin_gangsta_on_the_road_to_the_lotus_eaters_at_loon_junction_1059240
LYRICS/"Small Town Witch", Sneaker Pimps
https://genius.com/Sneaker-pimps-small-town-witch-lyrics
Dearest, why cry in vain to the black night
fight its gentle intent to hold and rest.
Why fear the loss of light thus malcontent?
When ego is so false upon the loom.
Dearest, what makes you think elation found
from harsh light will so frame your hearts delight?
Reality thus formed will not slay fright.
When ego goes so false upon the loom.
Dearest, husks of the Universal eye
soft grays will velveteen the fading light.
Walk on courageous in the Mother's night,
accept the silken comfort of the blur.
All that is soft and gentle comes from Her.
Dearest Heart, loose yourself upon the loom.
*Dedicated to my friend Robin Gass
and all those who fear dispersal in the dark.
In the hall of clocks and mirrors,
Winds of time bring fragrant whispers,
Of midnights of magic moonlight,
And reflections of past delights!
Of golden days when lost in blooms,
And dancing joy in summer rooms!
A blur of green in woodland scene,
And the purple twilights velveteen.
Time's reversed to infinity,
As ensues with sweet memory.
And heartsongs waft, out of mauve mists,
And all life's seasons coexist!
I am soaring above canopies of an olive kingdom,
singing sagas of untamable freedom, to whistling mistrals,
as a choir of tropical rain-forests serenade a wild chorus,
my rare perfumed wings unfurl strength~pirouetting like a ballerina in the velveteen clouds,
gracefully gliding toward mountains clayed with honeysuckle-glazed minerals;
I’ve been a keeper of secrets lost in the mists of time,
embracing the glowing sun that illuminates fields of fern,
whilst hope rests beneath my indigo feathers, guiding rose gold flocks.
Sometimes falcons and eagles are ignorant to my survival instincts-
they search for a sign to prey on my maternal prowess;
I mimic their frequency to deceive sharpened fangs and talons,
for I can hear whispers from miles of silence echoing amidst predatory darkness.
So find me in the wilderness, I am a harlequin macaw conquering depths of dense thicket trees.
Build me a dream of roses gold;
velveteen beauties to behold.
Give them songs, so they may sing;
their gentle voices, how they’ll ring.
Build me a dream of sapphire blue;
with periwinkle skies, azure waters too.
Build me a dream of castles fine;
composed of stones, like diamond mines.
Build me a dream of emerald light,
one with doves, in joyous flight.
Build me wings of solid gold;
encourage me them, to unfold.
When you build, build with love;
so I can soar with loving doves.
In-flight
In pheromone
Honeysuckle perfume
Insect antennae knot freshly
bouquet.
In breeze
I feel your breath
rustle shiny reeds
of my stints' hapless hinterland
you learn.
A vest
of velveteen
gleaming wings that trembled
Turn to a whirring glint beneath
full moon.