Best Wakeful Poems


Premium Member The Legacy of Law - Part One -

Law began by living,
locomotion meeting the rails of electric rainfall,
Consequence coursing through interconnected crossbeams
making all form fruit of the first & final recipe,
one great statute spawned from the storm
billowing from Divinity's genius,
everything in the Universe existing to produce,
get busy, get bounce'n, grow wild & now,
receive with wisdom and take as thieves humbled by offering,
the original impulse from a manic God
pregnant from androgonous purpose,
a trillion movements in a single start, a fanatic for feral smarts,
stagnation anethema to the spectacular suspense of survival,

Natural Rights were for me
the moment my blood became mine, became a wet warlord
exerting presence in the wide open wrestle of Universe,
God the shadow & weight of my spark,
the window & scene of my good gumption, of my dusty dream,
self defense a mandate from the magistrate of my heritage,
freedom of expression an obligation humming from ancestors'
anniverseries applauded along the Appain Way headed
not towards Rome but forward to a higher home of honor,

a Law unto myself I am,
eating from the spines of lions,
sleeping atop pyramids built by a billion bones unbroken by battle,
afternoons auction affection for my amusement with discount
and the nights nudge nightmares asunder
with the release of red lightning
spelling the name of Creation in raw neon, breathtaking breakdown,
a script scribbled by a hand having the blueprint of dirt in it's fingernails,
I appeal to Adam, attest in favor of aggression's willpower,
to Eve I beseech, testify to the severity & sanction of self confidence,
let us smash all false law that stands as a wall to our fulfillment,
smack the eggshell of Man's authoritarian angst,
waking into a world of wakeful worries, confined by Common Law, U.C.C.,
walking through waves ment to wreck the arrogant
with a constitution inked by nerves electrified
by entertaining the urgency of a rampaging God,
thought of the great expanse thumping thoroughly through
the expeditions my expectations encounter,
black static undulating around the blue bulb of my brain,
sparks of ultimate consciousness mothering marks of miracles
in the becoming of birthright,


J.A.B.
Categories: wakeful, adventure, universe,
Form: Epic

Premium Member God Is My Light

God is the deity I have been taught from young to respect,
An all-powerful light, streaming down, which I can always detect.
He is Omnipotent, a light of miracles, our almighty everlasting King,
God is my light Supreme, and with, faith, hope and praises,
To Him I sing.
He is unconquerable, invincible, His love like a radiant light
Shining within us, like THE Christmas star so calming 
And so celestially bright.
God is unconquerable, absolutely not vulnerable
His Omnipotence quells my fears, lights my way, He’s invincible.
Light and good is our Omnipresent God, He is always with me,
God for me is all knowing.
I always try to follow the path of light and pray joyfully
With all the faithful.
Have your stairway to heaven clear, and your senses wakeful,
Our Lord God our maker is omniscient, He is all seeing, 
His light is far-reaching, and for me ever comforting
I turn to him with prayer in any hour of grief, His light
Brings me peace, love and light all encompassing.

Entering Contest: 
The Light Poetry Contest
Sponsored By : Regina McIntosh
14th December 2020
Categories: wakeful, god, heaven,
Form: Free verse

Premium Member Impressionistic October

Timely advent cool tide of October appearance,
For its golden emission and radiant sunshine
Filtering quenching thirst ripened to autumn of mine.
Sapphire sea, forget me not sky inviting assistance. 

October, its blessing with a canvas of colors,
Quivering Autumn whilst tomorrows summer heart grieves.
Wakeful beneath the bare stately trees their resting leaves
Impressionistic harmony in watercolors.


10/5/2020
© Eve Roper  Create an image from this poem.
Categories: wakeful, autumn, october,
Form: Enclosed Rhyme

Book: Radiant Verses: A Journey Through Inspiring Poetry


Premium Member Writing With Weeping Words

I sit at the table looking out the kitchen window
drinking the autumn warm golden shades 
of red, brown, and orange leaves descending and walking through my yard.   

My mind swims with thoughts of seventy autumns,
yearning to purge into words that storm within me.

This old encrusted frame kidnapped the child I once was,
in tears this heart thoughts flow reflecting on the past.

Unconsciously holding my breath, 
my wizened hands shake slightly while I write.

Like the ocean at the mercy of the wind
sweeping away by the demands of  everyday life, 
I write pages and pages of weeping words.

Waves rush in and around, losing myself
in a wakeful dream as I hear the distant chants. 
Love and be loved
a rhythm of my soul too still the storm within me. 

With hope of once more, to be young in the embrace of my love, 
for now I open the door of my heart and let him continue his journey.

10/5/2017
© Eve Roper  Create an image from this poem.
Categories: wakeful, age, autumn, emotions, husband,
Form: Free verse

Premium Member Poetry Is a Life-Cherishing Force

"Poetry is a life-cherishing force. For poems are not words, after all, but fires for the cold, ropes let down to the lost, something as necessary as bread in the pockets of the hungry."
— Mary Oliver

Poetry Timely As the Cool Waves

Poetry, timely as the cool waves of ocean tide
Appearance, for its golden emission of imagery
And radiant sunshine filtering, quenching thirst
Ripened feelings of the mine and heart.
Sapphire sea of unforgotten words,
As on a canvas of colors,
A process or art of using the pen.
A picture, as require a different approach to writing.

Winters wakeful breath leaves its audience
Stately trees bare, their resting leaves scattered.
Whilst tomorrow's summer heart may grieve
Or wakeful beneath the Impressionistic harmony.

11/30/2022

Sponsored By:	Sotto Poet
Poetry Contest:	Poetry is a life-cherishing force Contest
© Eve Roper  Create an image from this poem.
Categories: wakeful, poetry,
Form: Free verse

Premium Member Dreamscape

We slip into the cradle of night's arms,
Beyond our weary, wakeful selves, we go.
Where hopes take flight untouched by worldly harms,
And whispered wants, like drifting petals, flow.

Beneath a veil of stars and moonlit beams,
We cross to foreign lands of our design,
A portal to a world beyond our dreams,
Where truths and aspirations intertwine.

And when we wake to walk through daylight's door,
The secrets of the stars, we're meant to keep.
Unfiltered are the thoughts our dreams explore;
For minds cannot be closed when they're asleep.

May we be armed with wisdom of the night,
And dare to seek a world beyond our sight.
Categories: wakeful, courage, dream, hope, inspirational,
Form: Sonnet


Sonnet 35 'The Happy Lark Sings Dulcet Resurrection'

The happy lark sings dulcet Resurrection!
His silver strands, like notes, weave pearly cloth,
Abide no warring, strife or misdirection;
The Little Folk come softly to the wroth,
And make them glad and wakeful in new Sun.
Elves almost show themselves, then whirl away!
They cannot stop their mischief, for the fun,
They do not flee from shadows, for ‘tis day.
O!  Silver cloth, white song bright, interwoven,
Clothe now each weary soul in Glory, pray!
O!  Fiery tongues, anointing us with cloven
White flames, teach us prophetic words to say…
Here, breath of babies, sprung from Springtime’s grace
Surrounds roses, in clouds… chiffon and lace…

3/19/2019
Categories: wakeful, beauty, fairy, god, peace,
Form: Sonnet

Premium Member Morning Star

Morning Star
     with your first breath,
          wakeful 
               sunlit of dawn, 
                    a mystique flaming
                         fire arouse;
                    ablaze 
                is casting
          shadows 
     in the new
outlying
     mercurial fame
          horizon, immersed in
               waves
                    of balmy sunshine.

5/22/2020 

Poetry Contest: Pick-A-Title, Vol 18 - Yalto 2 - 
4. Morning Star
Sponsored by: Edward Ibeh
Line 1 to 15: 3,4,2,4, 5,3,2,3,2,3,3,5,6,1,5 syllables.

Venus is a very bright star; it is the only celestial body, besides the Moon, that is bright enough to cast a shadow on Earth. It had two different names in the ancient pagan world, as it was seen in the sky twice a day: when the sun came up in the morning, it was called Morning Star and when the sun set in the evening, it was called Evening Star
© Eve Roper  Create an image from this poem.
Categories: wakeful, creation, morning, star,
Form: Verse

Nightfall

Was it at the close of wakeful light 
  Rough cutting field and town, 
  The dark blade-cleaving deep, 
  Eyebrow sharp and scything down, 
  The landscape hacked to sleep. 

And if it were my dreamless sight 
  Of haloed streetlamp flicker, 
  Murdered shadows spring 
  To lope and slither quicker 
  As the chimes of midnight ring. 

What if the eyes cannot adjust 
  And discern the rise of day, 
  Screening past the chilly tomb 
  That so engulfs and hides away 
  In a heart of darkest gloom. 

What if I no longer trust 
  Evaporate of hearthside yore, 
  And apparitions die as must, 
  Would I freeze forever more 
  Beneath the sheet of nightfall's dust.
© Tony Bush  Create an image from this poem.
Categories: wakeful, life, love, mystery, nostalgia,
Form:

Premium Member Hello September

September, I welcome your brand new moon,
Fun autumn color changes that occur
Blessing new seeds to fulfill new fruit soon
Falling in love with autumn cool breeze that does stir

Sounds of strumming strings unfurl brittle limbs
A uninterrupted breeze, a soothing kiss  amber leaves crowd
Enchanting they fall round and round with wings
Life elegance amongst scribble crayoned clouds

With first breath, the wakeful light of dawn days
Departing summer amid cooler nights
Spirit's pureness admires and sings praise
Losing oneself in serenity of the dim sky's sight

Remember September as Fall enters
Passionately and unhurried moon veils the sky
Surrendering to hints of cool winter

9/17/2021
Sponsored by:	Mystic Rose Rose
Contest Name	HELLO SEPTEMBER
© Eve Roper  Create an image from this poem.
Categories: wakeful, autumn, september,
Form: Free verse

A Kiss On Vj Day

"Times Square was magnet to rejoicing
hearts, as mine was on that day the victors 
came. With roses, red, as were perhaps,
my cheeks, I vowed each bloom for
every home-come valiant there I'd see."

"I see her still despite the sixty years,
a taintless angel clutching there a bunch
of roses, red, as were her lips, a pair of
magnets that had drawn me close and
closer yet, and in a flash, the kiss."

"The kiss, a flash of light, and all from
senses blotted out, save for warm, tender
lips on mine, my body backward bent
in sweet surrender held by arms, the scent
of roses crushed between our breasts."

"Our breasts thus pressed, the roses in
between; how long did we remain thus
still in time? For but a span of breath
commingled, held? A moment's measure
of twined heartbeats kept in trance?"

"In swooning trance, then rudely snapped
out from by surging mass, rejoicing river
crowd, there wrenching him away, and me,
still stunned, forgetting there to hand him
but a single, breast-pressed rose."

"A single rose, if but to press to lips, or
in between the pages of a book held dear,
a keepsake from an angel kissed but with
no name to call in sleep-failed nights,
for failing there to even give my name."

"My name, I wish I had the sense there
but to whisper to his ear then yet so close.
Perhaps, it would have been the key 
to worlds away from lonely wards and
wakeful nights with just the sick with me."

"With me is but the memory of lips, their
warmth the years have deftly dimmed;
that kiss, a quick-eyed lens man stilled, now
wrought a lifelike replica of vanished time,
one budding love rose crushed by fickle fate."
Categories: wakeful, anniversary, history, introspection, nostalgia,
Form: Blank verse

Lovers' Tryst

In whispered silence two hearts run in league
Reluctant each to raise the wakeful mist
By mantle of night and moonlight’s sweet mystique
While forbidden fate hides a lovers’ tryst

The moon espies what hides in gentile guise
Though fate forbid a love one can’t resist
To live, to love and chance a heart’s demise
While dreams hearken to this lovers’ tryst

Bright moon, stand fast!  Pray, ‘yond dawn, be stayed!
For Juliet, knowing well they’ll e’er desist
Wills not this blessèd night be here waylaid
For fear this dream remain a lovers’ tryst

Her surrendered heart belongs to Montague
The ‘morn will show if his own love be true


Christopher Thor Britt
Motif: Romantic
Categories: wakeful, good night, love, sad
Form: Sonnet

Tapir

Although I am raising a tapir,
I don't know since when.

I don't know 
where he came from or how I wound up in raising him;
I am raising him only because he is there by my side. 

He is neither cute nor of amiable nature.
He doesn't sleep while I am sleeping and 
feeds from the crumbs of my dreams that have fallen on the floor. 

One day the tapir, 
although fed by my dreams 
he disappeared from my side.

My sleepless nights began from that day,
they really are an unbearable series of chaotic nights,
I was suffering from night after night of evil dreams.

Because of the countless wakeful nights,
I lost my sense to distinguish night from day; became 
unable to tell myself as to real or unreal in the standing-still-time.  
Wherefore I began to roam aimlessly 
searching for myself just like a sleep-walker. 

My ego, unknowingly, while I was lost from myself, left me 
and stepped into a wasteland no one seems to have ever stepped in; 
astoundingly, however, I found an abandoned gold mine 
which swallowed heaps of gold diggers' dream, body 
and soul standing before me open-mouthed. 

Although a gallery was glowing with golden color
it was darker, deeper and damper then the grave. 
And when I stepped in the gallery which seems 
so feeble that it may collapse at any moment, 
I saw my tapir gazing at me gloomy-eyed.

Whether he was sorry or delighted to see me again, 
or maybe hated me for not coming earlier to find him;
I was glad, nonetheless, I saw myself reflecting in his pupils. 

I felt I had unloaded all those heavy burdens I was carrying all along, 
and because my mind became so at ease that I got into a deep sleep,
lay by his side and beat less my heart ceased. 


Note:  By old Chinese tale:: a tapir is said to eat man’s nightmares.
© Su Ben  Create an image from this poem.
Categories: wakeful, poetry, , cute,
Form: Free verse

Premium Member Concerto In Soul Major -

Art from the heart, a religion of ritual,
where One summons God and glory to center stage,
your spirit enriched by the self confidence that ensues
as inspiration smells like cedar and feels like sanctity,
the physics of mystics in an eye the mind won't deny,
whence a penny is a prize with a wish
to ventilate a voice of sensitive wisdom,
sensational seeing into the human condition,
visions of vinegar in virtue, visciousness in victory, mercy in the face of malignancy,
pleasure in the panic of risk, pain in the placid avoidence of adventure,
securing an ownership in a Universe from our births unto burials
worshiping composition and the partnership it represents,
Vermeer & Vivaldi, Beehtoven & Bosch, amatuer & adept,
feeling like an angel with demon bones, fusing two atmospheres together,
a holy parade of brazen beliefs putting a new world in order for all,
a micro euphoria, a macro excitment, accomplishment ambrosia,
happiness warm and wakeful in hearts pumping for promise,
for a covenant crafted in a workshop outfitted for you, for what you were ment to do,
volunteering to be a lightning rod of a Goddess crazed with passion,
a power placed in One's fibers for maximum purpose by a trusting Deity,
raise humanity's awareness to the truth that existence is an exercise in artistry,
faith framing futurity within the purity
of knowing that I am where I belong, I belong where I am -

J.A.B.
Categories: wakeful, art, universe,
Form: Didactic

Premium Member My Heart Betrayed Me

I spend each wakeful night in search of evasive sleep.
    An unwelcomed vigil denies me peaceful rest.
I've need to bury his haunting specter somewhere deep;
    entombing forever my perpetual uninvited guest.

Close my weary eyes, appears the vision of his face.
     His smile plays over me in sweet unbridled song.
If I could rip out my eyes as easily as tattering lace,
     Would insomnolence not taunt me all night long?

How long must I remain my heart's shackled possession?
    Will this nocturnal torment never reach an end?
No response have I heard to either of these questions.
    My heart is not content to simply call him, "friend."

I've foolishly assigned myself a Herculean task,
    To believe from its grasp, my heart will set me free.
I'm paying the steepest price that love alone can ask.
    Why, treacherous heart, why have you betrayed me?
© Lin Lane  Create an image from this poem.
Categories: wakeful, betrayal, emotions, heartbroken, sleep,
Form: Rhyme
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