Best What Poems
I still recall our first poetic glance,
dormant pen roused my fingers to dance.
Her love was like a cherry blossom tree,
which at first blossomed so beautifully.
When a tender breeze took each fragile bud,
we stood naked, vulnerable to the flood.
Broken branches fell, as love became silent,
our poems burned in fires, ever so violent.
Her absence formed a lawless state of mind,
vacant heart bled for memories left behind.
Some say sorrow washes away with rain,
but in heartbreak, torpid wounds leave a stain.
Love is a balance of peace and distress,
yet it's something two souls cannot suppress.
Simple Sonnet
Silent One
Example for what is love contest.
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?
It’s easy to love what is beautiful
It’s easy to ponder the sky
It’s easy to love what is helpless
When innocence touches the eye
It’s easy to brush against velvet
Or savor the song of a Lark
It’s easy to gaze at the moon
As it is belighting the dark
Yet what of the less graceful beings
Whose beauty may lie deep within
Will they dine alone at the table
For lack of a glorious skin
I wonder the value of beauty
If only its surface is blessed
When only the eye of the holder
Sees only how something is dressed
It’s easy to love what is beautiful
It may not be easy to see
But oh, it is worthy of effort
And surely the heavens agree
Daddy never did understand.
That violence doesnt bring comfort.
A lost soul seeking acceptance from a unwelcome hand.
She was silent no one ever knew.
The secrets behind her bruised eyes.
A shocking victem none but all had a clue.
She cried to empty walls never speaking aloud from fear.
A confession of pain and shattred trust.
this is only what angles hear.
Scars selfinflicted are better than that
dirty feeling.
As she lays a broken shell gazing at the celling.
She questions if others know what will they say.
Doing whatever it takes to stay numb.
Innocence lost a parent should never betray.
The guilt was placed apon the wrong head.
Void of all emotion.
No child should yern to be dead.
At times it gets to uncomfortable so in
another direction we steer.
For at times it's just to painful to stomach.
What only angles hear.
What is holding you back?
What is stopping you?
What is making you uncomfortable
about asking?
about wanting?
about dreaming?
about wishing?
about expecting?
about planning?
about setting new goals?
about learning new things?
about figuring out other ways?
about being your most excited self?
about opening yourself up to new opportunities?
New possibilities? New people? New places? A new job?
Or is it a who?
Haunted by the death of dreams
and slaughtering of innocence
but too afraid to dig up the bones
and examine our own mistakes,
we bury our heads instead,
blindly following greedy leaders
who give nothing but hollow words
and meaningless moments of silence.
I know I’m not the only one asking -
what more can we do?
As summer nears, sunlight stirs
in streams, surprising delicate gardens
with dreams of daffodils.
Their bright eyes, wide with secrets,
suddenly close, and their dainty petals
wither until they are no more.
Knowing these last days
of spring rain will remain,
summer retreats.
Soon, their daffodil dreams will be
just a memory.
After darkness falls, all is numb.
New roots breeding evergreen
suddenly turn dry and dull.
Promises forgotten,
potential lost to pain -
tomorrow’s tree weakening.
The shimmering green of innocence
is gone, but fiery guns are drawn.
How can we forget while whipping winds
constantly howl? How can we only cry
as hatred’s bullets continue to fly?
Smoky skies once boisterous and blue
now choke our most cherished blooms.
The silence of complacency
is evil’s sickening laughter,
Do you hear its rifle reloading faster?
My blue tears turn blood red,
anger gushes, flooding me
from sea to dimming sea
in this vast land of violence versus vulnerability.
We are no longer free to dream,
no longer free to tend to our gardens,
to breathe in and measure
each miraculous moment,
to watch our fragile flowers strengthen
and grow to beautiful heights.
With head bowed, I listen
to the silence of my tears falling
where the flowers once grew.
I can no longer hear the cries
of the fallen with petals blowing.
I only hear the howling winds
of this never-ending nightmare,
and again I ask,
what more can we do?
5/25/22
Dear humans, do you read me, I live in space,
Merely a being, sent by God, I'm all over the place.
I circle the world, live among debris,
You leave behind, you ruined your planet,
Now you want to go to Mars, so that you can
Pollute that planet in a few thousand years,
I have shed enough tears,
A millennium has gone by, and yet my fears,
Are much the same, not only the land you destroy,
But what of your beautiful oceans, you have caused
Global destruction, ice is melting, oceans rising
Lands worldwide are drowning, farms are flooding,
Mudslides send houses into never-never land,
We must do something, you all say the same,
Well do it.
Have you absolutely lost your sanity,
Your complete mentality in irreversible totality,
First think of your ocean life, ban plastic bags,
Deforestation must stop, this must be immediate
All trees are life giving, sustaining an all encompassing
Balance, animals lose their forests and move into
Suburbs, confused, looking for food.
You overpopulate,
Why three or four children, be grateful have one
Others so sad, as they have none.
Unemployment on the rise,
The poor have no chance of winning first prize.
You have brought about division between
Colors, creeds and nations, stop it, we are all
Brothers and sisters, please help the poor
Who come to ask for food at your door
Disparity of wealth crazy, billionaires now more
Than before, whilst the poor live under bridges
Or scavenge in garbage, shame on us, shame on us,
Shame on our governments, access to water is
Humanitarian, all should have access.
I therefore beseech you to do the right thing, be kind,
Be mindful, allow love to seep into your heart,
Don't risk becoming an inevitable mortal fatality,
Nurture your planets ozone deficiency, begin,
with healing your unhinged mental capacity
The beginning starts with you,
But of course, that you knew.
help mrs. muse is gone and my mind is shooting blanks
my friend called inspiration is trying to walk the plank
motivation just married mr lazy
and confidence started acting really crazy
cousin common sense is on vacation out of town
and aunt intelligence is nowhere to be found
uncle rational is at the casino gambling his life away
and my best friend happiness never wants to stay
my neighbor opportunity doesnt knock on my door anymore
and my girlfriend love is really just a whore
my partner pride is always full of himself
and sister sympathy is busy with someone else
grandpa wisdom is smart enough not to say a word
and grandma compassion is seen but never heard
the only friends that ever come to town
is anger and disgust and they always hang around
my high school sweat heart infatuation doesnt really call
and my childhood friend imagination doesnt exist at all
How can I ever describe love,
when love defies definition?
For while shared with Angels, sort of,
it is a human condition.
Have you ever felt so alive
that life felt almost too extreme?
And caught up in passion's drive,
have you ever lived out your dream?
Have you ever gotten a kiss
that left you floating on a cloud?
And filled with spontaneous bliss,
have you ever shouted out loud?
Have you ever felt light as air,
or felt warm and gooey inside?
And as jealous eyes gawk and stare,
have you ever strutted with pride?
Have you ever felt you were whole,
falling head over heels in love?
And felt such warmth within your soul,
that it rivaled heaven above?
What Matters Most
What matters most is obvious to me.
It’s hearth and home, kin and family.
Life is an hourglass and the sands
of your time keep drifting down -
drifting, drifting, drifting
downward as you race
to get in all
the things you
want to
do!
But
take time
to breathe in
the things you love:
fresh baked bread, roses,
the petrichor of spring!
Simple are life’s joys. Give all
you love to all those you love, for
that will be your legacy when your
sands run out and the hourglass turns over.
April 1, 2020
for Chantelle Anne Cooke's "What Matters the Most to You" Poetry contest
A few years back, one day, while planting trees
My shovel hit a little metal box
I instantly dropped to my hands and knees
Removing the surrounding dirt and rocks
I noticed right away it had two locks
It looked to have a filigree design
I smiled as though I'd dug into Ft Knox
Adrenaline had me up on cloud nine
With garden hose, I washed away the grime
Then shined it gently with my old t-shirt
I jimmied both the locks in record time
And what a treasure mixed in with the dirt
My heart was thumping in childlike elation
I'd rediscovered my imagination.
by Daniel Turner
I think of those I knew who’ve passed
And what they’ve left behind,
Impressions that remain engraved
In caverns of my mind.
Perhaps just an expression
Or some laughter we once shared
Or a reaching-out connection
Where our truest selves were bared.
I conjure up some habits
That endeared or else annoyed
Which, for reasons I don’t know,
Have yet to vanish in the void.
We write our wills, bequeathing
What we treasure to our kin,
But the best of us we leave behind
Is what resides within.
What Holds More Resplendent Gifts Of The Great And Vast Beyond
Seas of poetry orations, I once took my swims
being strong in spirit, stouter in heart and lithe of limbs
What dread had I of illness or passage of Father Time
when great beauty of verse sang so deep, dancing in its rhyme
Waves of its amber grains, its sandy beach, its great pleasures
stirred heart, pleading soul in immeasurable measures!
If tired, I cast myself upon lands flowing true and fair
seeing magnificence in Earth, Life, Nature- everywhere
Before dawn, before slumber flees this soul's poetry dreams
of paradise shores, poetic thoughts, soft cast golden beams
Winds of change and sublime words to describe and thus to match
castles of hope, beauty's grace and golden eggs- set to hatch!
Fearing not of, high flying fancies and heavenly flights
of lost romantic desires, cast adrift on stormy nights
Or that of abandoned ships left behind in gleaming seas
for poetry gifts its love and blessings of granted pleas
Bountiful harvests of word-seeds so pleasurably sown
are but summer days sending cool winds so gratefully blown!
What holds more resplendent gifts of the great and vast beyond
than poetry, its powers, which poets are so very fond
How its paintings, colors memories one sweetly recalls
of life, living and flames of hot-romance youth often falls
Beyond poetic seas of white-cropped waves and foaming foam
may this old poet's soul, in death, forever gaily roam!
Robert J. Lindley, 12-03-2018
Rhyme, (Inspired verse) (Poetry is Life and Treasure too)
Note- I dedicate this poem to my very good friend Susan Ashley and her wondrously inspiring new poem that inspired me to write this today.
Her new poem titled, The Red Leaf- set me to thinking of its beautiful poetry
and life. And how much poetry means to so many dedicated and in love with poetry poets!
I sat down and this flowed right on out, early this morn.
Note: Use in my poem of "white-cropped" = "white" for good, "cropped" for "appearing unexpectedly".
Thus translated- beyond poetic seas of = unexpectedly good waves and foaming foam.
Definition of “crop up” - English Dictionary
American
English
“crop up” in American English
See all translations
crop up
-pp-
— phrasal verb with crop US ? /kr?p/ verb [ T ] -pp-
?to happen or appear unexpectedly:
If you sow seeds of kindness,
Then kindness is what you'll reap.
If you sow seeds of forgiveness,
You'll reap untroubled sleep.
If you sow seeds of anger,
of hatred or discontent,
You'll reap a crop of violence,
Discord and evil intent.
If you sow seeds of brotherly love,
Then love you will receive,
But if wickedness is what you sow,
Then wicked you will be.
The lesson here is pretty clear:
You reap just what you sow.
Therefore, strive to sow only good seeds,
And spread them wherever you go.
2/13/13
What Lurks Within
I picture in my mind an old colonial room,
With a door to the garden where my flowers can bloom.
A window in the back to see the main house,
A leaky roof and the scurry of a mouse.
Mold on the floor and old bricks in the wall,
And a door in the back to the main kitchen hall.
A stack of hay to the left leading out the front door,
To the gravel path that wraps around to the front porch.
The smell of moisture in the air so damp and so cold,
I can get some water and try to scrub up the mold.
A mat by the door to clean off my boots,
I can get into the car to start my commute.
So much I can picture for this small place,
Nothing to hold back my imagination, but space.
-For Seren’s What Lurks Within Contest