Best Weaves Poems
Blooming avid hearts, where reveries dwell,
“Love weaves a mysterious magic spell”
Turning daydreams into amorous fairytale
Of endeavors esoteric smitten passions unveil,
Sketching emotions, fantasies ecstatic ignite,
Threading themes, musings-intimate write,
Embroidering bliss upon tapestries of mind,
Bedecking realm heavenly, destiny designed,
Rejoicing springs roaming on fragrant breeze,
Sailing blue seas, summer’s aspirations seize,
Exultant in notions of love, autumn weaves,
Choreographing dance of falling gold-leaves,
Luring besotted eyes fixating on moonlit skies,
Vying impulses-romantic, fervid moods surmise,
Rhapsodic in elation, aglow in stellar delight,
Hypnotizing minds caressing proffers of night,
“Love weaves a mysterious magic spell”
Blooming avid hearts, where reveries dwell,
Culminating in sweet rendezvous desires plea
Threading intimate fantasies for you and me.
In hues of sepia she maintains
her web of life, Mother Nature;
from smallest seed to greatest
creature her umbilical sustains.
The fate of all life resides
in her consciousness and flow;
like a machine each part depends
on the other parts smooth glide.
Pollinators nurture flora,
food is recycled and regenerates;
feeding others of her children,
from trees to abundant Passiflora.
Through our big blue marbled macrocosm
she weaves her web of life;
from Terra-firma are many birthed
abundant arising microcosms.
With light and pigmentation's work
amazing color floods her realm;
from greens, golds, reds and browns
she paints such serene patchwork.
Wondrous miracles she has birthed
within her spirits sylvan seas;
a universal soul, our Mother,
captured by the poets in verse.
The finest artist of her kind,
with unlimited imagination;
her womb is quite a fertile one,
life’s threads are fragilely intertwined.
6-27-2021
ALL YOURS (Jun 27) Poetry Contest
Brian Strand
"Winter breath flutters to an exhilarating dance on nostalgic moments, giving way to beauty."
Quote by poet
The bursting sun, a flower of gold radiance,
An idle footprint of time. A sweet, warm, healing
Friendship, spiced with the rhythm of nature's affection.
It weaves perfection upon longing hearts and souls.
Brightening the world, toying upon the window.
Spun frozen dewdrops glisten under the sunlight.
A walk in consolation, about hopeful fields,
A rebirth exhalation to marvel and sigh.
Rainbow shimmer of magic grackles and ravens
A perfect partnered dance on naked tree branches.
Leaves in downward whorl upon the latent carpet;
Cheerful, awe-inspiring as squirrels wobble through.
In the brisk embrace of dawn, a robin toils—
A flutter of wings, a rustle of life reborn,
She dances on the breeze, her beak a weaver's tool,
Arranging sticks and strands, a tapestry takes form.
With each trip, a triumph—each twig a victory won,
Her chest, a blaze of orange, against the cool spring air,
Nature's architect, crafting with carefree zest,
She loops the sky, her nest a growing testament there.
The thicket murmurs secrets, as she listens and learns,
Dry grasses in tow, her silhouette dips and sways,
A ballet of purpose beneath the warming sun,
In this cradle of twigs, future melodies will play.
Determination in each movement, joy in every flight,
A promise woven into the walls of her snug retreat,
Spring heralds life, and she, its tireless scribe,
A home, at last, where tiny hearts will beat.
In My Dreams , Dream Weaver Weaves
Beside still waters and pastures lush and green
I wander into a late summer night dream.
She appears with her eyes so beautiful and deep
a vision that forever tempts me in my sleep.
Long flowing gold adorned her jet black hair
chasing me showing how much she does care.
Caution for beauty sometimes lead men astray
yet her laughter begs me to forever stay.
An image that so sweetly burns into my brain
I pray it return forever again and again.
Into those eyes of one that knew love
looking for eternity from high above.
As I feel myself slipping and start to wake
offering my true heart for her to take.
She flies away laughing, dancing as she goes
will she ever return again, nobody knows.
Robert J. Lindley, 09-24-2015
Richard's contest:
Have a look through my poems and find a poem that resonates with you, quote the title and a line from the poem.
**Then write a piece in response to how you feel and what you see. **
YOUR POEM TITLED-- Reach beyond where I have reached
VERSE CHOSEN --
" Not very long ago
I was young and strong
Our youth is fleeting
It doesn't last very long"
"Dreamer Weaves You Closer"
Dreamer weaves
you closer
her golden words
like breath brought
her into a new world
each chord held
she remembers holding
the constellation
Virgo in her arms
in time small windows
open midnight blue
glistening jade
they reign over her
a Lion whispering
the oddest nursery rhymes,
lullabies she's remembering
over time
"if you close your eyes, maybe
the Blue Faerie might sing,
if you close your eyes maybe
the Gold Faerie might say ...
dream big baby dream ... "
and so on...
the song goes...
revolutions in her tiny cosmos
Closer, the star born
quiet and dazzling
moves towards her
a little constellation
like a diamond shining
her bijou shadow
finds her somewhere
strange
holding fast onto a
golden chord
in a silent galaxy
of jumbled words
never letting go
in the unnamed streets
of joy and sorrow
looking for a throne
in an unremarkable maze
the Labyrinth of Magic Poem
She’s trying to find
her own way
Home
(LadyLabyrinth / 2020)
gvlm
Weaves to women is like an aid
Some they wear straight and some they braid
Wigs are used for easy access
They grab one quickly when their own hair's a mess
Some women wear wigs and weaves
To desire that look they want to achieve
Women think men prefer long hair
But to some men, it doesn't matter
Some really don't care
Wigs are all ready, you can grab one real quick
You put it on top of your own hair and there it will stick
Some weaves you can do yourself, you can sew or even glue
Though most go to professionals cause they know just what to do
Women spend lots of money on their hair, this you can bet
They don't want to mess it up, yet alone get it wet
I know this lady, her name is Shirley
She wears long weaves and wigs that are curly
I know this lil chick that we call Shorty
She wore the bob cut wig to Wayne's after party
Tyeisha does hair between 9 and 4 o'clock
She does extensions, twists and braids and even dreadlocks
Donna, she just likes her weave to hang
For that's how she does it when she's doing her thing
Tiffany gets her weave flat ironed with that Chi
And looks like a model everytime you see her
Now you see Colette, her hair is real long
She doesn't wear wigs or weaves for her hair is her own
Women know wigs and weaves will always be around
For wigs and weaves can be found in your town
But it really doesn't matter what you do with your hair
Because wigs and weaves ain't going nowhere
How I wish to be the bird that weaves dreams in the branches of time, silent,
Fluttering butterfly wings around your aura, dancing in your light,
To be the petal that feels your touch like a sunrise birthing the day,
To be the moon with which you string words under the mantle of night,
The tree where you hide your sighs, like an altar of hidden pain,
To be the wave that caresses your soul with whispers of the eternal sea,
The mirror that captures the brightness of your gaze in the eternal dance of light,
The song that fills your silence with notes that are born and die within you,
The rainbow that thrills your wonder, a bridge of colors between sky and earth,
The raindrop that slides into your thoughts like a story of the sky,
The fresh earth that awakens memories with the scent of rebirth,
The sunbeam that embraces you at the edge of a morning,
To be the soul that finds its place in your love like a sanctuary of eternity.
The dream of the fluffy fluffs
the little Cutts of the curly cotton crafts
Blow a bit they will fly ...
Uncontrollably fly high out of sight
Cringing the kite
On the November's hectic moon ...
They blew all over ,
covering the truths cocoon..
First Across the half bowl
Next they made it to the sol
Partly obscured the positive
vitamin D deficiency ...
Up the river there's the swirls no blinding rims... Just grey fizz
Just grey shaded foam..
As they form
More and more grey they become ..
Full moon dates one
of you come .. zeal energy
Still there , I feel it's bond
The deprive of dreams
The grey water rinse ...
Uncovering of the sudden mist
Oh Christ
It's the colourful grass
It's the flowery dust
Yes the clouds had crust
Replenished temp at last
Look at it it's going to be dawned fast.
By our involuntary weaves..
Grandmother spider’s weaving is intricate, delicate, beyond compare
Like Belgium lace or the intricate weave of a bamboo chair
She spins her truth by night, it gets water beads on it by day.
We observe in silence as she puts her strings together in a certain way.
I stand at the edge of time, where yesterday weaves into today in an eternal dance,
I gaze upon the uncharted path that stretches like a blank canvas, waiting to be painted by my steps,
The wind whispers secretly, like an old confidant, of a future lurking beyond the horizon's line,
Where unspoken dreams take shape and color in the silence of evening that descends upon the world.
The sunset casts its golden curtain over the day, and the last glimmer of light fades like a forgotten dream,
Shadows dance upon the stage of darkness, like phantoms dissolving in the wake of a dreamer,
The stars, those beacons of the universe, light up one by one, guiding me toward the open sky,
Silent witnesses to my inner journey, they watch over me, offering courage to press on.
I yearn to soar on eagle's wings, to feel the cold air cut my breath and give me life anew,
To sail upon the waves where sea and heart sing together in a duet of eternity,
To dance freely beneath a starry curtain, where dreams become real and tangible,
To discover the magic that lies beyond the light, where the soul finds its solace and peace.
In the depths of the night, where the moon weaves dreams from silver threads,
I find myself in a labyrinth of the soul, a realm of shadows and light,
Where generosity and fear intertwine into an ethereal tapestry,
And my deeds are echoes of hidden truths.
In a garden of illusions, I sow stars of hope,
But I wonder if they shine from love or from fear,
Each gesture, a flower of light or a thorn of doubt,
In this garden of my consciousness, where everything converges.
When I extend a hand, is it a bridge of light or a canvas of shadows?
When I smile, is it from purity or to hide the void within me?
Ah, how hard it is to decode the rainbow of emotions,
When every color is an illusion, a chimera of the mind.
Like a crystal river, my conscience flows through valleys of desires and hesitations,
Each wave a whispered story, a mystery to be unraveled,
Generosity spreads its angelic wings,
But in its shadow, indifference sharpens its demon claws.
In every action, I find a paradox of existence,
A duality that envelops me like a veil of mist,
And I lose myself in this continuous flow of thoughts,
A wanderer lost on the path of self-discovery.
Ah, how hard it is to truly know yourself,
When good and evil dance in an eternal waltz,
A game of mirrors where each reflection is an enigma,
And the truth hides in the mysterious corners of the soul.
And yet, in this mystical quest,
A melancholic beauty is born,
In the attempt to decipher the intricate maps of the self,
To find light in the darkness, meaning in the chaos.
I let myself be carried by this river of consciousness,
A stream of thoughts flowing through me, without end,
In the hope that, one day, I will find the answer,
And understand whether I am a generous soul or just a prisoner of shadows.
In a corner of the world, where silence weaves its web like a spider in the night,
Lives trickle away in lines of systematic renunciations, like rivers slowly retreating,
Each step backward is a knife plunged deep into the flesh of attempts to live,
And each unspoken whisper becomes a weight pressing on the shoulders of dreams yet to be told.
There, in the corners of the mind where courage once resided,
Now reigns a cold that leaves no room for the fire of desire,
And the fear of life, with its sharp claws, digs deep trenches,
Turning illusions into stone walls that can no longer be scaled.
When days become a series of mute retreats,
The heart loses its old beats, like an autumn without wind,
And in every corner of the soul settles a heavy silence,
An echo of a destiny that never dared to be truly lived.
The fear of living gives birth to an even greater fear of dying,
Like a vicious circle that ensnares us in the web of an endless dance,
And in this tango of hesitations, each step back
Is a step toward an abyss from which there is no return.
In this universe of shadows and silences,
Only those who dare to face their fears
Can escape the narrow corners of existence
And embrace life as a dance of daring and dreaming.
In the silence of a frozen morning, when the cold weaves its crystal cloak over the world,
I will never say "I love you," not because I don't feel it, but because those words,
Thrown like coins at the feet of strangers, cannot bear the weight of what I feel,
They are too small, too worn out, too tame to describe the tumult within me.
Instead of speaking them, I will let actions speak in the unseen language of love,
When winter makes me shiver and my bones become fragile glass, I will say "yes"
To your midnight craving for ice cream, even if my soul negotiates with pneumonia,
Because that moment with you is warmer than any blanket.
I will not say "I love you," but I will always stop my playlist for your music,
You'll think I've always loved that singer's voice, though I used to raise an eyebrow,
But now, when her voice echoes in my headphones, I find myself humming along,
And I will lie, saying "Yes, I've always liked this," just to see your smile light up.
I'll take a detour just to stay five more minutes by your side,
I will pretend I didn't see the puddle, just so you don't have to jump over it alone,
I'll bring the forgotten bag, the bookmarks, the heavy bottle, without feeling the burden,
Because if they belong to you, how could they ever be a weight?
No, I will not say "I love you," but I will know how you like your tea, how you hate coriander,
How you pretend not to cry during sad movies but play with your ring when emotions overwhelm you,
I'll be the one who notices when your laughter doesn't reach your eyes and changes the subject,
Until you forget the sadness that held you prisoner in your thoughts.
I'll cancel plans I was eagerly awaiting just to listen to your stories,
About the colleague whose biography I could write, and I'll make it seem like it's all easy,
As if loving you, quietly, foolishly, endlessly, is the most natural thing.
Because "I love you" is not something I say, it's something I breathe into every moment,
When I choose you, without needing a reason, in the silence of each moment.
“Love weaves a mysterious magic spell”
Enchanted heart light pulse no rein can quell
Moonbeam frenzy rippling through souls entwined
Dark midnight hour gasp a charmed sleigh bell
Golden whispers permeate our hub aligned
Pearl-eyed lustrous jinx free oath undersigned
We bare toe dash at wishful madcap pace
As eros leaves its comet far behind
Early red dawn passion etched in sheer lace
Spring day mystic zenith, her glow tone face
Closer to nirvana, deep first blush team
Eternal heaven, haunt, or secret space.
Breath of sky rapt tender link’s heady stream
Otherworld amidst engagement ring theme
Doves that skim and coo silver froth afloat
Bright souvenirs en route unveil a gleam
Sensual laughter spurs hypnotic note
blithely fosters harmonising fond quote
Erotic fervour cast your lucky shroud
O'er honeymooner’s trance on dream boat
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