Best Was Poems
I thought I was a poet who had a pen of gold
With clear access to writing that was mature and bold.
I thought I could go roaming beside the foaming sea
And watch the seagulls gliding to give a show for free.
I thought I was a poet who walked along the beach
In awe I stood and wondered, my hand stretched out to reach
The silver thread dividing the water from the sky
And traced Selena’s features as slowly she went by.
I thought I was a poet who knew what joy could be
On hearing water roaring cascading down with glee.
I looked for inspiration, experienced utmost thrill
When climbing down the valley or up the verdant hill.
I thought I was a poet in charge of heat and cold
But lost my true emotions when I was duped and told
I had to reach perfection to please my heart and mind
By means of imitation. My soul I left behind.
I thought I was a poet who had a pen of gold
But now all of a sudden I’m weary, frail and old.
I thought I was a poet. My pen is of no use.
With teary eyes I whisper to my dejected muse.
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Contest: First Place Only
Sponsor: Laura Loo
Placed 1st ~ 18th June 2016
Contest: Any Poem #36
Sponsor: Poet Destroyer A
Placed 1st ~ 13th March 2016
Contest: Million Dollar Poem
Sponsor: Poet Destroyer A
Placed 1st ~ 13th June 2015
Chosen Poem of the day ~ 8th May 2015
Come to me my beloved,
save me from life's brutalities,
so this heart can soften -
sparkle like a million fireflies.
For you hold the light
to illuminate my soul.
For you are the ceremony
and I the dance.
As you come near,
I'll spin like a mad man,
dancing in the rain.
If to touch you is a sin,
then I am a sinner,
yearning to sin till my last breath.
If to hold you, means to lose everything,
then I will live as a penniless man,
rich within the luxuries of your affection.
If to love you is a crime,
then I am a criminal,
lock me away and dispose of the key,
chain me within the chambers of your heart.
If this is my last poem,
then let these words become spirits,
sleeping within the sacred sanctuary
of your supernal soul.
Silent One
Simple Musing
5 January 2019
i remember all of our first times
all of our poems
i've always been safer in air
yet you kept me afloat in rushing tides
but
without your beautiful silhouette
eyes see sadness in indigo weeping waves
the whole ocean seems empty to me
unable to stroke like a butterfly
i'm drowning in ripples of loneliness
wondering if that was the last
time I would gaze into your brown eyes
i was lost in your arms now i'm annoyed at being found
labyrinth of lament is a boat trapped in a glass bottle
love is an analogy of two hearts
fate a game of chance without luck
was it the last time
i would roam in your flower garden
feel heartbeats from your chest
rest upon the softness of your breasts
aroma of your sensual skin still caresses my fingertips
as your memories comfort like a winter scarf
if only it was your lips on my coffee cup
your kiss to soothe the bitterness
yet i'm lonelier than the summer moon
burning away like a fading star
ageing in the transgression of time
grey strands overcoming my appearance
was that the last time
i would wipe your tears
hold you passionately in my arms
you rise with the music of dawn
whilst i sink in the smoky silent haze of dusk
so i sit upon distant shivery shores
whilst moonlight glimmers upon your turquoise sea
your memories seem more melancholic in the rain
everything seems colder in the confusion of absence
wondering if this will be the last time
i answer you calling my name
hear you tell me you hate me -
then remind me you love me
then portray it in poetry
what if this was the last poem
last time we get to say goodbye
when all the words
inside your head
become those words
already said
and places that
you dreamt you saw
are places now
you’ve been before
is it that time
to call a day
on all what was
and walk away
or is it time
to take the view
that you should stay
to start anew
and use the past
to build upon
what’s gone before
before it's gone?
On cold evenings
Surrounded by friends
Warm and
Safe
I could stay up forever
Taking strength
From the blackness
Talking
Dreaming
Feeling that I could float upward
And walk with the stars
On their lonely journey
Through heaven.
There was a girl
I was with then
Tall
Graceful
And beautiful
When I first saw her
I wanted to feel her softness
Her breathe on my cheek
Her hand
Brushing against my thigh
When I held her close
And even closer
I wanted her
To say she loved me.
Together
Our love
Had a perfect balance
Of
Teasing and challenge
Spontaneity
Courtship
And seduction.
A subtle change
That I never understood
Came about
The closer we became
The more anger
And resentment followed
When she smiled I was envious
When I laughed she was angry
We broke up
We were young
It was my fault
Her fault
Our fault
Or blame it on the times we lived in.
Outside my room
Footsteps echo
In a long and empty hallway
And like an undeliverable letter
A message scrawled
To no one in particular
Haunting visions are
Returned to me
The slenderness of her waist
The way she arched her back
The touch of her hand
The way she kissed
I feel her presence
Yes, I relive all that.
Bha e brèagha an-de
(It was Beautiful Yesterday)
There was a sailing vessel
With many a sail proudly lapping in the wind
A flag of the Celtic honor, in ruin an rented
As all the sailors sing
Of my love for you
From long ago
Before death became our friend
Oh would I be sailing from stormy seas to the Scottish glens
To lay some flowers at your side
Your beauty is now far under
My love ill wait for all eternity
For loves resurrection’s stormy thunder
Our bodies may be under stone
Our memories long lost in tales and fable
Let no man ever lay any such claim
Our love was not the gift of briny seaworthy fame
We be only stones, in a meadow blue
When you come upon our fate
Tiss with this verse, I state my case
The life that escaped our sadly date
Love though was true as sky
For long ago, she bid adieu
Her sadness at my drowning departure
As I her lover was told to be
Buried deep and under sea
Both sadness and the tossing waves
Took the life out of her and me
So when you look at fading stones
Remember the love that used to be
When Thor struck his hammer
upon the flat ground on Earth
it was the pieces withstood the blow we named rock,
constructs we came to know as the mountains.
Even before that time
I crossed my fingers
wished I'd one day experience
...you.
I knew you before heavenly purity grew wings
before angels blessed hearts
invoking what we now know as love for our brethren .
I held you in the sphere of my understanding
as the lover I'd never meet but always carry
in the most cherished of my thoughts.
When Zeus handed me his quill and inkwell I knew
I would only use his gift for my inspired notes to you.
Though I was not blessed a poets words
like Robert Browning
he who took Elizabeth Barrett into his heart from the first time he read her
so I did with you.
Only laid blood on parchment
to declare the love you inspired in me.
Like a schoolboy's first kiss
was the day my eyes embraced the body of your work.
Before the first pine broke the ground, the first lark sang,
the first orchards rare enchanted the rainforests.
Before the first chameleon blended
into the multicoloured break of dawn.
Before infinite rows of wheat invitingly waved from the fields to greet Hera.
Before liquid rose to separate into
creeks, swamps, rivers, lakes with fish of all kinds
wasn't it me who rode the first seahorse just to make you smile.
Anything, all...
possible
with the swirl of a letter
the turn of a word.
I found an immense love tracking the shores of your fine poetry
always a chill that ran up my back.
No one.
No one!
Only you.
Your fine talent,
gifted,
honed
perfected...flaws and all...
moulds
sculpts,
breathes life into ordinary words,
creates poetry
owns me.
September 26 2016 MY
It was in September that Poetry first came to me -
a time when summer’s embers, for me had not yet caught fire
until, that is, Poetry walked casually toward me
wearing bell bottoms and a young man’s angel face.
Visited by such exquisite grace, I felt the spark of sweet desire’s flame.
Our kisses in the night made my spirit sing; the flame leapt higher.
Yes, a night to remember is what my angel boy gifted me,
and though the fall was near, I was in the springtime of my youth.
The years have come and gone gone gone
Memories of my old flames are cinders now, softly glowing In my mind.
They cannot be revived to brightly glow again; they are the past.
After Poetry walked in all those years ago,
a few decades passed. One day I felt the urge to put pen to paper.
Recalling nostalgically the fire that once had so consumed me,
tender words flowed from me; passion was reborn!
Recreating fantasy, I became the lady who danced the unicorn,
who lived, and who still lives romance, again and again and again,
for the passion now is in my pen!
It was in September that Poetry first came to me.
I just didn’t know it then.
Poetry was her best lover
like no other
he loved her
without restraint
She could be herself
and explore
discovering
secret pleasures and fantasies
Naked above the covers
he let her lie exposed
as he slowly caressed her imagination
making her flow
with the sweet essence of her soul
in waves of creative delirium
Flying free~~~
he let her be
unfettered
unashamed
unworried of how to please
or how to tease
just simply to be
a woman in a prelude
to ecstasy
Poetry was her best lover
her escape from reality
in clandestine intimacy
he ravished her mind
again and again
for all he wanted
was for her
to experience
to taste
every pleasure
he had to offer
Her insatiable appetite
he fed
with firm truths
that burst forth with wisdom
He fed her desire
to reach supremacy
He never betrayed
or delayed
in pleasing her
in giving her just what she wanted
in different ways and forms
his creativity endless
Poetry was her best lover
the only time in her day
when she had her way
and could be free
to be the woman she was meant to be:
Sensual and sultry, sexy and savory
not having to hide
behind the guise
the veil of culture
or religion
or misconstrued sexism
or alibis
being demure
“sterile”
when she was fertile
laden with passion
waiting to be filled
with word seeds of ingenuity
Poetry was her best lover
he adored her as she was
and he gave and gave
at times
leading her in submission to his will
taming her
training her
to live in the confines
of his rules...
For perfection to be reached
she had to follow his lead
to the pinnacle of pleasure
where all was in rhythmic union and rhyme
in the sublime
she was oblivious to time
Ah....sweet release~~~
In the after glow
he wouldn't let her go
but held her safe and secure
basking in the satisfaction
of a fruitful union
serene in the knowledge
that beauty has been conceived
waiting for delivery
Yes, Poetry was her best lover
and she came looking for him
begging him to take her
again and again and again
to transport her to heaven from hell
to compel her to see
what life was meant to be
Poetry was her best lover
and she had no need of another
to help her discover
her own entity….
None other
than her best lover
Poetry....
Eileen Manassian
among green foliage and slender twigs, perched a graceful mellifluous Nightingale.
Chickadees, Robins, Orioles stopped their synchronised cadence of rhythmic tweets, in anticipation..
a tranquil silence fell in the forest, a quiet trance around...
tall majestic trees stopped swaying their aspiring branches,
plants and shrubs and bushes softly emanated saffron scent,
rustling fragrant breeze whispered lilac mystery,
chartreuse clouds stooped and gently touched the treetops,
tangerine twilight moon flickered ribbons of love,
ravishing flowers opened their petite petals blazing red blush in awe!
Nightingale sang the most melodious song, sprinkling amber passion,
It sang a symphony pouring its heart, weaving
the story of eternal love and loss,
mesmerizing the audience with lavender dreams and hopes
a dazed forest stood still ...
All hushed !
Written May 6, 2021
POTW May 9, 2021
All Yours - June 22, 2021 -Brian Strand
FIRST PLACE
I could not make sense
of the wonder
would stand
bewildered and mute
I could not open
and let out
the feelings that well
from my depth
I could not speak truth
and would choke
on the unsaid words
in my throat
If it was not for words
there'd be no poetry.
Can a veiled muse survive,
unable to release
poems that make us thrive?
If it was not for words.
Can we cope being mute
when hearts have to suppress
reasons behind sorrows,
teardrops cannot express.
If it was not for words.
There would be no lyrics,
only background soundtracks.
No songs to soothe our souls
or help tired minds relax.
If it was not for words.
How will eyes view nature
when art fails to describe
moon, blooms, angst or romance?
Nothings left to inscribe.
My cherished one...
Here I am ,alone with stone wall paper
in the silence of my room.
The pit-pattering raindrops upon my windowsill
help me to remember, outside is cold and vacant too.
Here I lay , on my dark brown couch
like on other nights and many afternoons.
Here I stay ,undisturbed ,with a pen in my left hand
Provoked to put black ink to paper
Seduced to write down unconscious thoughts
Terminal thoughts and deepest aches
wrapped in the echo of your absence.
If only you 'd knew , my rose was not seasonal
Its crimson still bleeds ,like in yesterdays , now gone.
Its perfume still lingers between forgotten postcards
and the impossibility of separation.
Its petals once blown , still float across the boundless ocean
The same ocean that moves ,that spreads breathlessly
between our lands , our lips and hands, but not our hearts
Nor the hundred fantasies that still reveal your footprints
along my distant winding paths .
Inspired by Adele's latest song - 'Hello '
A strange claim
Of a man of passion
Of kindness
He said
Let the children come to me
For what man would refuse the smile
The innocence of a child
He parted his kindness
His wisdom
His love of all tribes
Animal and man, felt the kindness of his eyes
His tears grew this world
His voice made all of us listen
He made fisherman, philosophers
He made masons run free
He sang to ladies of the night
With the wine from wells of passion
Caliphs and Abu Nuwas soon followed
Love belongs to no one tribe
No sect or religion
It’s the flower that seed's travels the globe
Like feathers floating in the wind
When you see a child with no food
A woman with no smile
A man with no home
You make a balloon or funny face
You grow a rose
You build a hut
Trust in the kindness underneath
It will kiss you on your death bed
You shall rise to the heavens
Knowing
You loved the universe
Notes: This is one poem that for sure can be peeled like an onion. First of all, I am working on a poem based on historical fact, and documents from the Vatican, that will serve no other purpose than to tell an age old story. Yes part of it takes place in current day Turkey.
Second, I have a friend who resides in Turkey, and we met over the internet, and over the years, have become friends. I know him to be kind, to all people and animals. We are simply friends that have shared stories, laughter, and hardships at times. Whether someone lives next door or half way around the world, true friendship and honor is hard to find. You can not give it or receive it. You can only both earn it over time.
No man is perfect, we are what we are, but when you see a world in turmoil, as we do these days, maybe this small event or moment carries weight. I myself am not so nice. So then I must say this, My friend Volkan is, not to me, but to countless people. A smile and kindness costs nothing, and the world needs more of this richness.
Everyone these days talks of how technology is ripping apart society and this may well be true, but this is a choice we all make, technology is merely a tool. One can also use it to build bridges and friendships.
Normally I would be shy to give such praise, however events have taught me that, its better to speak good words than be silent.
Thank you, for helping building a better world!
You hit when I was low
The pain you caused, you know
Threw dust on glitter glow
Made weeds of sorrow grow
Cued pent-up tears to flow
You hit when I was low
You hit when I was down
Made me a freak show clown
Took jewels from my crown
Gave not a smile but frown
Held me until I drown
You hit when I was down
You hit when I was sad
Made good turn sour, bad
Streaked pain into my glad
Bandied words like “mad”
Spilled ink on writing pad
You hit when I was sad
You hit when I was lost
Clueless to what it cost
Flowers: blighted in frost
My sentiments you tossed
My boundaries you crossed
You hit when I was lost
You looked down from on high
Not hearing heavy sigh
Not seeing tears I cry
Not caring if I die
And Still you don't know why…
To you I’ve said, “Goodbye”
Jade