Best Verse Poems
INDIAN INK
Indian Accent, form the whispers inside
Chanting from long ago
Echoes come and go
Losing time in a soft eternal glow
A beautiful and delicate autumn mountain scene
Dry blue eyes enchanting melodies!
Voices fall from the sky, rising hymns release
ancient demons CLINGING to the SOUL!
Darkness dwells under - gentle moonlight
Ancestors of the Spirit World!
Weaving Native smoke into the barren air
Indian spirits haunt the muddy Earth
Moccasin makers rise from underneath,
While guardians of dream catchers - print the Universe
Smooth thread from the outer world.
Arrowheads, Ivory gems, feathers, and illusions
I stumble upon a florid kiss....... My veins!
Run cold, like ice through a desert night.
Winds of enchanted drums - cry out for rain
Hollow chimes mesmerize, my ties, my eyes
An ancient rage begins to flare --- MADNESS!
takes place among the sanity of who I am
The spear of perfumed buffalo scrapes my skin
I remove the veil that covers my eyes
The hands that cover my ears
Drying the scalp that bleeds on my face
KINDRED IN EVERY WAY!
Raven silk braids and feathers on my hair
Dancing in a horrid hallucination of Peyote,
Waking up from the “American Dream.”
Holding out my arms, I am free, I can fly,
I AM A BIRD!
Broken People
I wish to be with the broken people.
The get in your face challenge me people. The sometimes hidden sitting in a dark corner kinda people.
The “Don't you love me?”
I wish you seen me sorta people.
People just being real people.
Not having to have it all together people. Them doing their best to figure it out people. Dancing and singing without the smooth moves people.
I don't care about the color of their skin, or what others think of as their sin. No need to be perfect to win.
Seeing and listening is where I'll begin. Beyond appearance of fat or thin. I only know what I know
I've never been where they've been.
We'll start
with our broken smiles
it's the best we've got.
It might seem like so little
still I think it's a lot.
Through life's struggles we've all fought. Lessons needed learning
experienced not taught.
Real is real it couldn't be bought.
So forget the fake people,
the all about perfect hair and clothes people. The I live in the right neighborhood and drive the right car people. It's all about me, top of the hill people. They only hang out with the supremely cool people.
those too important to talk to me people. Thinking they're the best of the best kinda people, when all along they are merely Sheeple.
Ba ba baaing, thinking they are strong instead of feeble.
I love characters
people who are unique.
I look under exteriors to gain a peek.
Strength of lions disguised in meek.
Unconcerned with fab or being chic.
Worth listening to if allowed to speak.
The stories they tell will make your eyes leak.
For in the end
we are all broken
stumbling and choking.
Disguising hurt with our joking,
victims of others and their poking.
So look close maybe you'll see
eyes that aren't blank
hearts that aren't empty.
Who we think of as complicated
in the end might not be.
They might push when others come close,yet they are affectionate times three. Each just a bit afraid and broken. All the while wishing
and wanting to be a part of something. If only we choose to see
those on the fringes are a part of the we. All we have to do is let them be.
I play like a girl, I hit like a girl
You say I throw like a girl,
And when I run -- I run like a girl!
All that plus more, enjoy this one-size-fits-all
Who and what I want comes from being strong
Classy and fabulous, this is my song!
I've been told, cut to size
The world is dark and gray when life becomes an insult
Take heed when I speak my mind,
I am tough, outstanding, and beautiful!
Move ahead --- say it twice, I smell nice
A taste of Cool Water and Justice Perfume
I have a non-stop multitask fixation
As a woman, everything about me is hidden
Magic and alluring are the only joy you'll need
I'm empowered at this moment!
Endorsing Myself, with a certain sorta mystique
I deliver an independent will,
Don't ever underestimate my physique
I am a caregiver, a female who won't give up the fight
I remain firm and believe all women have equal rights
I walk and talk Like A Girl
Wearing heels breaking the sounds of Wedding Bells
I am, Mona's unforgettable smile, standing tall Like Miss Liberty
I am, Betsy America's #1 designer, I am you and full of life.
The sound in your eyes isn't listening!
You imagine I am weak -- not strong enough -- brave enough,
You call me different and difficult!
Still, you want my warmth -- my love -- my attention
I am not less, I am more
I am a woman -- I frown -- I cry -- I hurt and yell at the universe
Nevertheless, I make a difference, like a girl, I smile
A smile, never seen or felt before, both defined and undefined
Your heart will ask and implore for more
Like a girl, I'll drive you wild, looking pretty "You're In Love!"
My Self-confidence comes from who I am deep inside
Everything I've become follows the makeup on my face
Bare and nude, I am the Madonna flowering the mood
At the end of every day, I have one other thing to say
The Next Time You ask me to cook and clean
Because you think, I belong in the kitchen
You better believe I'm doing it my way
LIKE A GIRL
Like an interrupted dream
shadows of the one
who inspired it
linger like morning dew.
No aroma and no taste,
yet I'm left breathless,
as thoughts reminisce.
I listen to this tired heart,
as one deep breath results
in a thousand sighs and
I don't want to be found,
but yearn to understand
why I feel like a million
crumpled stars, silently
sprinkled like paint drops
protecting the moon,
feeling like glue holding
the universe together
and who am I to disturb it?
Her beauty was a merited gift.
Her departure unnecessary.
Her lips without speaking
could rewrite history
and I wonder
can she hear these sighs?
Her call is the one I want
to answer for eternity.
To speak until no words remain.
Give until there is nothing -
submitting to her submission
is life's greatest victory.
Twilight aurora,
night flower of this heart,
you shine in emerald velvet
hues in shades of scarlet.
Like a rainbow, your presence
brightened the horizons.
but just like the stars you
disappeared with daylight -
your absence leaving
behind blackness.
Upon the wind sheltered hillside,
the sharp tang of metal and the sting of salt air lay
over a field of blood-red poppies, no Flanders Field.
At years fall, fields of rape roll like waves,
in the harshness of winter-sleet, stray boulders bow,
like the backs of mothers, and daughters sowing.
Their nails torn, ragged, and bleeding.
They bleed by the moon, and son, upon the fields.
No white crosses mark their passing.
For hundreds of years, and crops of rape, barley and wheat,
small hands, soft hands, and soft thighs bleed.
They bleed daughters, and sons.
They birth the fields by consent or rape and in the fields
unadorned by silver stars or purple hearts, they writhe.
Today, as May's sun wakes the blood blasted pasture,
each precious drop blooms, a heroines soul
acknowledgement, the poppies yield.
listen,
the whispers
of leaves
turn colour
autumn is here.
now that you are gone
who will wake every morn
to lift the sun
unveil the sky
etch in the clouds
who will paint the rainbow?
i had a dream and in the dream i wove you a poem
i used the fiber of my character to create spools of silken thread
dipped in the juices of my passion i dyed them in the colors of my imagination
re-enforced each and every single strand with the strength of my love
touch,
the echoes
of the rain
- waters
- blossoms spring.
now that 'us' is just a word
no longer with you as one
i alone wind up metal toys
cut out paper dolls
the beach swept from under my feet
the child in me flees.
spun spools from the intricacy of my spirit
designed a pattern
to the rhythm
of the music
of my inner thoughts
enamoured in your vision
crystal beads gather on my brow
as i toil your finely bred gift
as i braid every part of me
with every memory
into every sliver of fabric
taste,
uncut
snow shapes
crisp cold
ices the wintertide.
instead now rusted
a fools gold chain of loneliness
hangs around my neck like a noose
mourns a union that once had breath
a twosome that now is dead.
see,
the sand sculptures
paint
rekindle
a childhood summer
past.
sew in the loving glow emits my flawless dreams
with my boiling blood initial my woven piece
my work at an end i awake
you lay there a wingless angel asleep
smiling as if you heard a bell ring
your boundless warmth embraces me
the moon no longer smiles
the stars no longer wink
smell,
seasonal airs
stimulates senses
memories they deliver.
without a touch
barely - i kiss you.
in this
my decade of one
hope is a wickless candle
the night just day without light
in the glee,
hopes and dreams,
in the human spirit,
lives the miracle of life.
magnificent
voices in every pitch
deep and resounding,
the melody of echoes and whispers – uncut.
Jan 4 2017
With Love
Armand
Some of us are secretive at first. We hide our poetry’s soul self,
gently letting her peep out; sometimes regretting it immediately.
Fearful of critiques from people who do not understand that poetry
is something we are compelled and born to do with our feelings.
Your diary entries may form themselves into goodness or badness
before you realize your calling as a poet.
Truths shockingly ooze out, surprising you.
Feelings creep out onto a page, in loud angry letters,
or romantic feelings daintily brush onto a crisp lined page
in the form of sweetness and light.
You are a word player, because you cannot
stop this obsession, but it does not define you.
This poetry gig is but a glimmer of a glimpse of yourself.
You might be a caregiver, or a wonderful friend.
People who count on your smile every day may not realize
you have a love affair with words, and an obsession to write them.
We are each a unique jewel, mined from God’s mind.
Poetry may initiate a whisper of a tiny facet of ourselves,
but our secrets are safe. We not merely poets. We are lovers
of life, and words. Most importantly, we remain gloriously hidden
and unknown to most.
Written 12-20-18 Contest: You Are Not Defined by Poetry
Sponsor: John Hamilton
Pink and perfect mystery
to which I ply my finger,
she ripens so exquisitely
the longer that I linger
and fluff the modest blossom
with my gentle loving hand,
teasing, ever pleasing
so that now I understand
how beautiful the flower
that yields without duress,
blooming now so fully
in the warmth of my caress.
On a special Suicidal Night,
I sit alone inside this nightmare
In a nightmare with no windows
Nobody can see me
I can see nobody
Flowers, above
My eyes have darkened to a color never seen before
Forever closed!
It Rains! It Rains!
Beyond this ocean, I've drowned too many times
I remember cascades of water below my eyes
My satin sheets wrinkle and cold
I fail and die every night
No one understands the pain that kills me every day
Wounds that reach 6 feet deep
Lucid demons
Bleeding wrist
Scary dreams
My mind is still screaming
---
Incomplete
Torn
Broken-
Is how I live
I'm alone-
No one's around.
My body's like a coffin
Stiff in my own home.
~Alice Sweet Alice~
*Like Sisters*
Everyday -- Holding Hands
Sunday Dress -- Pink Ribbons
*Alice And I*
How can they say she did not exist?
This Sweet Girl I Named Alice
The way she looks at me
-Her eyes tender green
A body figure I can't describe
Together we played hide and seek
We swung in ways no one could see
This girl with pretty red curls
Who enjoys the sound of pouring rain?
Together we slept under the same breeze
We carved our names on the same tree
Side by Side it Read Alice & I!
She whispered the day I fell off my bike
Alice Sweet Alice loves the way I look in red!
Every day I face the mirror
Alice puts her left hand on my right
We share the same identical scars,
Under the right and left palm.
The way she held my hand
Healed the scrapes in every fall
Beating from the bullies, she screams!
Again, Alice, whispers--- "Kill Them All!"
No one ever said a word,
When she stood by my side
Alice knew me in ways no one else did
She knew my eyes -When they cried!
Now I can't sleep,
Since Alice has fallen back into the abyss
Forever conscious in a self-hug
--- This is no dream, it is real!
The rage inside burns.
It took place the day she left!
Burning curtains
Empty mirrors
This Girl Named Alice spoke of darkness,
then disappeared
When I hear the sound of pouring rain
I stare at the shadows on the wall
Nothing feels the same,
I allow myself to soak in the darkness where it began.
My hair of red is not the same
These cuts are all that remain
The only clue in which Alice, was here!
Holding on to a stainless blade, I sleep
ALICE SWEET ALICE!
Please call my name!
Why do they whisper?
Why are they saying she never held a breath?
I know she is real, she exists
Why else would I let her cut my wrist?
This Sweet Girl
"I YELL FOR ALICE!"
Finally, visits again ---
But, who is to believe?
For everyone says
Alice lives inside my head.
By:)
In the middle of winter
within misty moors,
lies a melancholic meadow.
Up above grey skies foretell
perturbed crows to seek shelter.
Down below,
an isolated tree - naked and fatigued;
Listens in silence.
Her soul is wounded,
but you do not see her blood.
Defiant against dysfunctional adversity,
her roots are stronger than an anchor.
Diversifying in deep directions,
kissing the mouth of the Earth.
Her torso may seem tall and mighty,
but her appearance deceives.
Sins of mankind have exposed her sap,
as bark beetles crumble the surface.
Forceful winds and bullet rain blasts
against her weary teary face.
Her tame frame trembles,
as naked broken branches are
blown away by brutal gusts.
It is just another battle for life,
as birds leave her behind - suffocating.
Raindrops stream down her body,
creating puddles of sadness,
soaking deep into her roots.
In the middle of winter
within misty moors,
lies a melancholic meadow;
where a tree yearns for Spring.
To bloom prosperously
and to bathe in sunshine -
so departed birds return.
Silent One
20 February 2018
Dwell not, O soul, on yesterday,
on sorrows past and gone -
the sketch you drew so long ago,
today may be redrawn.
Dwell not upon tomorrow's wars,
nor borrow from their pain -
that energy you need today
let not your worries drain.
Dwell not, O heart, on failures past
though each one left its scar -
rich lessons you have learned have forged
the person you now are.
Dwell not upon your victories,
for those shall also pass -
let not your pride construct a shrine
to trophies made of glass.
Dwell not, O soul, on others' gain
nor envy those with much -
contentment, paired with gratitude,
brings peace no wealth can touch.
Dwell not on anyone's downfall
as though it lifted up
your own estate; we're siblings all
and drink from the same cup.
So what is left, O soul - where does
the prudent soul pay heed?
Become less of a taker
always give to those in need.
Which seeds are we to plant
upon this plot of ground we plow?
Sow seeds of love, be brave, and dwell
in the eternal now.
Written 6 Dec 2020
October: I'm eighteen, shortcutting home
through an autumn-burnished churchyard -
copper-lustred leaves, moss-skinned stone -
a jaunty swing of skater skirt and arm,
college folder square-sturdy in my hand.
In the moment. In the last pale pulse of sun.
Hey, can you tell me...?
I halt. I turn...
Cold earth. Colder blade dimpling my skin.
My coral cameo earrings scatter,
daisy-dotting the green.
My back is spiked by needles of yews.
Sun skews, sky side-slides
until his face is the firmament.
I'm staring into the tumid blank-bloat of blue;
the ground hardening beneath me,
the death-spike trees stiffening.
Heavy Special Brew breaths.
Grubby, moist fingers
like grubs crawling over my breasts,
and, weirdly, I'm smelling pepper -
horror-spice of pungent lust,
its acrid nose-thrust -
and woodsmoke is drifting from somewhere...
lung-flame, tongue-flames
of searing words - his words -
blazing like the umber tumbling leaves.
Please...Please...I'll...
Fear-forced bargaining, but I'm beyond care.
And I'm aware
of the church steeple rising,
its phallus penetrating sky.
The tilting church could topple
as tears crystal-crush in my eyes.
Fear-faint, already half gone
in a soundless scream, my muted mouth
mouths silent goodbyes
to Sarah, to Mum.
Time slows to a crawl.
I try to call. Nobody comes
but the man who has me ground-pinned.
Bleachy stink of semen
whitening my ripped skater skirt,
but some things don't fade
and there is no clean in this, just dirt,
wet leaf-mulch, shame.
Ineradicable hurt.
Sacred soil is soiled, sullied.
Stunned, I stumble
shoeless, knickerless,
into the trees and heave
into the mud, into the leaves
strings of spittle-sick,
my thoughts strung out,
reality spun out.
From stinking, pulped leaves I retrieve
crushed coral earrings,
ground-grimy knickers,
my white court shoes
that whitely scream the 90s,
the scattered tatters of essays -
white, like fallen feathers, sunk in the sludge,
muddied, the red-inked words bloodied.
I gather them together.
Gather myself.
I go
forward into my future, stained from pain
and tainted touch, the smears of fear, self-disgust.
And oozing slime-soft into my ears
the mire of incongruous apology: I'm sorry
don't tell anyone - I won't.
I don't.
Silently, I sat by,
To listen to the sounds of the world,
Of all the voices that touched me most,
Were those caught in the angelic wind,
For all things have a voice,
And the voice for all things
speaks through the wind,
So, silently I sat and listened.
With the salty taste of a tear
As it touched my upper lip,
A smile appeared.
All the while the wind kept blowing,
Secret after secret, revealing to me,
If only I could comprehend its wisdom.
But that is half the allure,
Happy I am just to hear it blow,
And acknowledge its influence over my spirit.
The wind has taught me many things,
Though, I cannot speak for the wind,
Instead, let it speak for me.
Oceans apart
buried under sandy shores,
a rare pearl slept comfortably
behind her walls.
Fate must have been kind,
for a common man like me,
to stumble upon her shell.
As I brushed away her debris,
astonished - my eyes could not believe
this beauty, revealed before me.
Spellbound - I could not help but stare,
stunned by the glory of her magnificence.
As she took one step forward,
unutterable sensations,
took a hold of my emotions.
Yet I remained motionless,
overmastered by this
majestic heavenly vision.
And I could have sworn it was a dream,
until the softness of her fingertips,
graced the imperfections of my soul,
and for the first time it felt perfect.
All of a sudden it felt like we were floating,
ascending towards a myriad of stars,
with the moon guarding us silently.
Stardust sprinkled with the sight of her smile -
how fortunate was I, to celebrate this artistry.
Her lips blossomed like flowers
as they succulently caressed mine.
Breathless,
without saying a word her eyes acknowledged
my vow for eternal devotion with ever lasting love.
Simple Musings
Silent One
19 September 2017