Best Whitish Poems
When I went to bed last night, my hair was fairer,
Yet, when I looked at the mirror today, a stranger was there,
More grey than fair, I’m eccentric, I’m a poet for
Goodness’ sake, I say what I mean, and I mean I what I say,
So back to the hairdresser I am going today.
Some like it black, or red, even blue or green, my color is pink.
Chrisy, my dear, what have you done to my hair,
I wanted a whitish blonde, you are renowned for your flair.
Light pink will blend in with mine and complement the blonde,
Please say you will fix my color and do my hair as I want.
I needed to tell hubby about what I had decided to do,
I think it will look great, he said, so out to dinner we went,
Happy I had my answer, to the question of ‘should I’.
What a wonderful night, it was as if we were out on a first date,
My husband and I, who is my best friend, lover and mate.
We dined under a full moon and millions of stars,
My pink hair shimmering, maybe they think hubby had
Married the first alien woman from Venus or Mars,
I whispered this in my husband’s ear. There’s my poet he replied.
Categories:
whitish, hair,
Form:
Free verse
I lounged in silence,
Overwhelmed by beauty,
Invigorated and at peace
Beneath the graceful willow.
In this tranquil state
I felt and absorbed
The hazy waning shafts of moonlight
Interlaced with wafts of perfumes
Of the whitish flowers of the queen of the night,
The mighty selenicereus
That climbed the greenish trellis
Of my earthly paradise.
Every color of the darkening rose,
Every shade that hid the sleepy birds,
Every sound of cicadas that sang to the moon,
Every precious second that passed
Was but an undying serenade.
Oh that such a moment
Would never have an end.
For this was an eternal dance
Upon a fair land
Where nature led the band
With extreme serenity,
Directed with all unearthly charm
Life's infinite continuum.
Categories:
whitish, appreciation, flower, night,
Form:
Free verse
(INNER BEAUTY) :
Words donot define beauty.
People donot define beauty.
Looks donot define beauty.
You define beauty
In your depth
In your speech,
In your mind.
Beauty is not about having a pretty face.
It is about having a pretty mind,a pretty heart
And most importantly a
Beautiful soul.
Some people have bad taste
Because they see only a pretty whitish complexion face,
When they look at their fiancée.
They say that beauty is skin deep.
Actually Beauty is not in the face
Beauty is light in the pure heart and pure soul.
Blessed are they
Who see beauty in humble places
Where other people see nothing.
There is a inner beauty about a woman.
Who believes in herself.
She knows well, she is capable of doing any thing,
That she puts her mind to.
There is a beauty in the strength and determination
Of a woman who follows her own right path,
She is not thrown off by obstacles along the way.
There is a beauty about a woman.
Whose confidence comes from experiences,
She knows when she fall,pick herself up and again move on.
You are like the ocean,pretty enough.on the surface,
But Dive down into your depths ,you will find beauty
Where most people never see.
I am strong because I know my weakness
I am beautiful because I am aware of my flaws.
I am fearless because I learnt to recognise,illusion from Real.
I am wise because I learn from my Mistakes.
I am a lover because I have felt hate .
And I can laugh because I have known sadness.
Always remember that point
Beauty is on the inside and not outside,
If you are going to judge ,judge me by my pure heart and pure soul
And not by my skin colour.
My skin colour fades but my inner beauty of heart & soul stays.
God determines who walk into your life ,
Its up to you to decide who you let away ,who you let stay,
Who you refuse to let go.
Because Matches are decided on Heaven
And take place on Earth by Parents choices.
An inner happiness abode in all,
A sense of universal harmonies,
A measureless secure eternity of truth and beauty
And good things and joy made one .
By Aliza Mukhtiar (Aliza Kashmala Kiran)
Categories:
whitish, beauty, dedication, destiny, devotion,
Form:
Epic
Venture advances, the future ... occurs,
the White Willow trees, best found by rivers
edge. Salix alba, and 'Tristis' means sad,
hence, 'Weeping', yet the essence seems to add
a picturesque of a draped graceful scene,
nay gloomy but most tranquil, and serene.
The whitish tones of the leaf's undersides
evolved the tree's name. A meter trunk, wide's,
diameter, thirty-meter stretch that
leans caused by sloped limbs that bring its Top Hat
tilted downward. A bow ... accentuates,
or curtsey, being a deciduous
tree, where the flower's genders grow distinct,
genteel parade cascades in white trimmed linked.
Categories:
whitish, allusion, analogy, appreciation, beautiful,
Form:
Crown of Sonnets
awakes, striding seamlessly towards the
trajectory of daybreak. Abed, passionately
attended by orectic thoughts; of whom
early on was created from man’s thoracic cage.
~Envisages;~
Without the least trace of compunction; exfoliating the
Saccharine damped canal with the tongue. Combined oils
and aroma lingers on the lips. Though the stiffened, unbridled,
solid thick muscle would supersede the tongue as the
warm tightened canal adjusts to its width inextricably.
~Pausing~
Waterfalls pouring profusely
Eyes trudge backwards
to that of yesterday
Fingers ascendant
to the nearest limb.
Digits of the foot holding forth
discourse with the sun.
~Orgasms~
Simultaneously
In due course.
Garnished bed linens
Accompanied by
Whitish fluid
~P-H-A-N-T-A-S-M-A-G-O-R-I-A~
"1st Pace Winner"
Contest Name: Best Descriptive Poem
Pace, G
INK-U-SCRIPT
Categories:
whitish, passion, romance,
Form:
Free verse
PERSERVERANCE BREEDS SUCCESS
Jss One was an insult, I cried
Like time should hit full stop,
My breakfast was sweet without
Salt,
My parents tasted like this evil
Citrus,
I continued to hide like Air Force
Was only for my seniors.
Jss Two arrived with the wind called
Releave
I began to breath as an aspiring king
Now I believe the race would definitely
Finish.
Jss Three was the mighty season
Everyday had a sweet beginning
Suddenly the queen became pretty
As boys begin to fill big,
Every Sunday I was in the dining hall
To clean wasted beans,
The brown Khaki now fits my tiny skin.
Never did I forget the mighty JSCE.
Ss1, trousers became the big deal,
I was also a victim for every ss3's
Laundry,
Morning duty was almost ending,
Up keep of the latrine was attached to
Me.
Inter house games had huge meaning
These was the day to show all my special
Skills
And entice that pretty queen,
As we stroll through freedom tree
Dangling the box room's key,
My sunday wear now had this profound whitish Glimpse.
At ss2, I became a commissioned officer
I began to predict the whether,
Even during holidays, I dreamt of returning
To my headquarters,
In Jaguar I had two lockers.
In Dornier my friends sent invites for
Dinner
Alpha wasn't my regular signal,
She whipped me in basketball finals.
I measured my days and wised there
Could be an alternative taste
But JPE was the key to unlock ss3 dreams.
Been a finalist was like magic
Today I float on the atlantic
As I scream 'ONE BOY'
The hostel begins to panic
Ariku becomes my transit
I trained this special team of bandits
So I had a contraband producing factory.
The days now had wings
Time flew without traffic.
My ink recollect's like she was a five
Minutes conference meeting,
Many couldn't climb this Iroko
For sex seasons.
Today, am not only an ALUMNI
But an harden fresh corrosive lime
Ready to swim under river Nile's eye.
AFCS is high in the sky
With the flying colors that now
Leave in my life.
KEYWORDS:
Jss_ junior secondary
SS: Senior secondary
Jsce: Junior secondary certificate examination
Jpe: Joint promotion examination.
Ariku: A small town in Iwo,Ibadan,Nigeria.
Khaki: A thick brown material
AFCS: Air Force Comprehensive School.
HABIB AKEWUSOLA.
Categories:
whitish, artsweet, sweet,
Form:
Ballade
When I was a mere half grown boy
There was one thing that brought me joy
Animals; silken and fleecy
Like look much better lying still and peaceful.
Hide them in the store cupboards
Or push their bodies below the creaky staircase
Mother don't look, Mother don't fret
If she knew what I was doing, she'd have me dead.
But one day I heard a scream
My dearest looked upon my eyes a'gleam
"O young boy, what have you done?"
Holding a lifeless mouse beneath her soft thumb.
Mother didn't like it, Mother was afraid
She slapped a hard ruler across my knuckle blade
I thought to my self, this was a brutish deed
Perhaps Mother would also like to bleed?
I drew out my Bowie knife, a smile on my face
Where her heart would be, I put the blade in its place
She fell to the ground without a moments hesitation
Her pretty face now red as a carnation.
Mother wasn't moving, Mother wasn't warm.
The former pinkness of her cheeks had become whitish and forlorn
The only trace of colour left
Was a trail of blood, leading up to her chest.
I couldn't bear to see her face in such a state
With a swipe of my handkerchief, off the blood came
After all it was not proper
For such a winsome face to be tinted with pain.
The sight of the red-stained handkerchief in the night
Could have given anybody a stage worthy fright
But O, not me, I found the sight alluring!
Her pasty body next to me, I writhed my hands in jovial mourning.
Mother, dear Mother, most precious to me
Your body now rests where you formerly slept
Instead of your insides being blood and hot lungs
It's brimming with crisp cotton, some fabric for your tongue.
Categories:
whitish, anger, crazy, death, horror,
Form:
Ballad
In a dreary county castle,
a ghost from the past is seen to dwell.
It haunts the castle battlements,
and walks the halls at night.
It walks the halls and moans a sound
that sounds much like the wind.
A whitish form that sounds of wind,
and scares away all people from the castle.
It seems to hum a mournful sound
that speaks of things where spirits dwell.
Not seen by day but only at night,
its form then walks the battlements.
Above the moor the high battlements
reach the dark sky and are filled with wind.
On a moonless night
the eerie sound from the castle
filters through the lowland where no man will dwell.
Such a soul wrenching sound.
Creeping through the heather without sound,
two boys came near the battlements.
Past the cemetery where shades of night dwell,
their way was blowing cold with wind.
They crept close to the castle.
Truly a dark and cloud filled night.
An owl screeched the night,
a most haunting sound.
Boys haulted near walls of the castle,
beneath its sighing battlements.
Lonesome cries of a disturbing wind,
spoke of a ghost who dared there to dwell.
Upon that weird lament they didn't dwell,
for this was their night
to face that ghost or wind.
Fraternity deemed they sleep there sound
on top of old decaying battlements,
within the wretched castle.
Eerie wind where spirits dwell
this castle haunted great at night
make sounds high in the battlements.
Categories:
whitish, evil,
Form:
Sestina
Bus 333
Thank you bus 333
For being there for me all day long,
You wake even before cock crows
And set yourself out all for my sake;
Your storage you fill to the beam,
Your powerhouse you fire to warm,
You sweep the aisle and mop the deck
You polish the seats and empty the bins,
Your fire extinguishers are all in place;
How much you care for me !
Danke, danke, danke.
6.10 is the meeting time,
Under the shed I see your light
Piercing the thick wintery cloud,
Your rollers daring the whitish heaps,
Your long antennas twisting left and right,
Unceaselessly wiping the chill ice ,
Who could have loved me more ?
Danke dir, mein lieber Bus.
No, you will not bypass me,
You will not even hurry me up,
But carefully you will lift me up,
Give me all necssary attention;
Your guten Morgen delights me,
It brightens me and gives me joy;
And when I finally settle down,
In my direction you will zoom
Watching front,watching back;
And when our do becomes done,
Deligently you will park and wait,
Auf Wiedersehen,auf Wiedersehen ;
What a great love is this ?
Lieber Bus 333,ich liebe dich,
Lieber Bus 333,ich danke dir.
Ade Kayode Adebayo
22/2/14
Categories:
whitish, care, moving on,
Form:
Epic
Voyagers, convene thyselves to return, among us...
Caesura, crown nigh clod, a sylph unwept,
elision thy silhouette, meno thy minuet...
Thine late occurence on thee, wake of cerise sand
Thou belief, like a billow, upon your whitish cheek,
'Twas marina bay, her twaddle a garb of mer,
A henchman docks, thy quay, girdles stymie ebbs,
but he cannot dream aloft a dream she confers...
O'er to woo hand in hand, thou overture unto Sirocco,
Plagues thy pirate ships, quakes men with mar,
His and his only demand, an aegis for lagoons amidst...
Once deluged, sun askew above, one abyss of bagatelles
Deters a tocsin, feign mooting mammals, thy kin a boon,
Aquatica, thee damsel for diminuendos, spurns thy sire,
Her gentle mettle, calls thee, His fervor season calentures...
Aloof thy celestial kisser, nay thy nine, vim domiciles solitary
Doomed skulls ravish, an age id by ice, culls thee, for chastity,
Some may not know, we died to have our love live, over and again,
Amity vows posy littoral seaflowers, buoys colonnades of adventure...
thence, cradles await upon matins, sail thy Oceanus genesis, amen.
Categories:
whitish, adventure, happiness, imagination, mother,
Form:
Iambic Pentameter
The best fire wood to be found
If dried it cannot be split
Extremely dense and heavy
And as hard as nails
Leathery evergreen leaves
Red bark peeling from the trunk
Whitish flowers, red berries
Growing from a cliff
It’s known as the Ironwood tree
But that’s not its actual name
A Pacific Coast native
The Madrona tree
Trees Everywhere Contest
Entry by Charles Sides
Categories:
whitish, nature,
Form:
Dodoitsu
The Feather of Love:
I aired a stray feather to see it flying;
I gazed it flowing in the wind;
I loved its whitish tone;
I loved the natural print upon.
I don’t know how it managed to come back,
How it never ceases to make me taken aback!
I only marked its return,
It truly turned me on,
It made my heart adorn,
A bizarre cloak of its own.
I penned my feelings with this feather,
From the ink of my heart.
I caressed my lover with its touch,
I attached it to my dream catcher,
It is suddenly my feather wizard!
I added it to a belle’s headgear,
To make her carnival look sheer,
I loved this feather on gala days,
So, I wish its company on a sad day.
I desire its touch to console myself.
I want it to erase my tears,
If that carnival girl sheds my feather!
I gifted this feather to a tribal boy,
He added this on his necklace,
It adorned his neck with stones and beads,
It gave him a taste of skirmish.
To his tribe, feather means ornament,
Printed feather means totem’s presence,
But he wore the feather in his lover’s absence!
I attached the feather to a whore’s anklet,
She caused murmur in my heart’s Brooklet.
I loved to see the feather flow,
As she walked!
She gave me a yellow feather from her bun,
I loved her hairs flowing auburn,
She was like a new dawn,
Amid the darkness of my own.
I exchanged my feather with her,
She was my true dream catcher,
She made my heart render,
In unknown splendor!!
Now I own her yellow feather,
I will never let it wither,
From the fuliginous dusts of air.
I keep it inside my book,
I accompany it on my bed,
It’s the solo companion on my brood,
It raises ripples on my heart’s brook!!
Then, on a gloomy noon the whore returned,
Once again, ‘I’m rocked.
She discovered her lost feather,
Dangling from my dream catcher,
She immediately hugged me into a kiss,
She melted me into total bliss.
Still, she took out the yellow feather soon,
And called me a ‘goon’
As if I never deserved the feather,
As if I am lover of weather!!
When I demanded my printed feather,
She detached it from her waist-dangler,
I loved the fact, she loved my feather,
And kissed on her hair.
So, she promised to remember me as a familiar stranger,.
She’ll now give the feather to her new lover,
I’ll never let her sweet memory disappear,
By the way, returned my whitish printed feather!!
Categories:
whitish, beautiful, beauty, woman,
Form:
Blank verse
Die frische Luft zum Atmen,
die aus dem Regen steigt,
umgibt mich mit der
feuchten Ruhe eines warmen Tages.
Noch zeigt die Nacht nicht ihr Gesicht,
noch bleiben Stunden hell,
nur leichter Wind treibt
Wasserperlen an mein Fenster.
Dann plötzlich der Hagel
wie Winterboten in dem Sommertag.
Die Bäume zittern
und werfen ihre Blätter ab,
die finden auf dem weißen Gras
dann schnell ihr frühes Grab.
--------------------------------------------
The fresh air to breathe,
coming out of the rain,
surrounds me with the
wet silence of a hot day.
Night not yet shows its face,
still hours remain bright,
only a light wind pushes
beads of water on my window.
Then suddenly the hail
like a winter herald on a summer day
Trees tremble
and throw off their leaves,
which quickly find on whitish grass
their early grave.
---------------------------------------------
El aire fresco para respirar,
saliendo de la lluvia,
me rodea con la
humida silencia de un día caluroso.
Todavía no muestra la noche su cara,
horas aún siguen claras,
sólo un viento ligero lleva
perlas de agua a mi ventana.
Luego de repente el granizo
como un mensajero de invierno
en un día de verano.
Los árboles tiemblan
y pierden sus hojas,
y rápidamente encuentren
en la hierba blanca
su tumba prematura.
Categories:
whitish, nature
Form:
Prose Poetry
Signature
Append the seal on the opening glee
Of performance agog with clapping drums,
The cylindrical bell calling to spirituous mundi
Screaming flew about in the air;
Perched on ears
And pecked on fertile hearts,
Consider not the frightened feet
Aching at commencement,
Wind to experiment, explore and applied
The agility in acrobatic anger
Of stretching sweating flesh,
Rhythmical muscles drawn vein taut
To the last drop of dew,
Hoofs prancing, prancing and prancing!
Ejaculating on the polished wood
With a millionth impregnated marbles spread tentacles,
Atomic spermatozoa bombast the uterus
Colonized the ovary and eke out
Inside, the embryonic yokes;
Suspended by clear albumen,
Fetal poles march strength with fallopian tubes,
Cavity swallowed them into humid sac
Plush pollen grains into zygotes
Springing anew buds in May,
Conceive earthlings with several asking branches
A lot of libraries;
A particular slanted eyeball
Began rumbling belch, lightening guffaw and thundering hiccup,
Tugging at umbilical chords,
Breathe knocking placenta on the head
And efflux out of the duress,
Spectra Butterflies flagging multi-coloured limbs
Faculty spiraling, twirling and tossing on elastic trunk,
Laser flashing touches swam in oceanic atmosphere,
Eager ritual leap of the gods,
Dagger usher out from scabbard
Plunge into dimple ample
Tip oozes indigo gore,
Sources of springing magenta
Began the back and forth stabbing,
Scribbling on the whitish flesh
Ink on tones of barks, bereft,
Spat spittle connived, reed shook together
Vein drawn to bursting,
Adaptation to suit thumb and forefinger
Pour the concoction, pour on the root.
Categories:
whitish, work
Form:
Free verse
As I crossed the gravel way
Of chemim de la Geurite
Through dead leaves that fell astray
I dodged them in a wild mad spree
As I crossed the gravel way
As I climbed up the granite wall
Thick and cold and high
To the top, feeling small
I slid across the rim
As I climbed up the granite wall
Down the other side I went
Through coins strewn about
Through photos and through flowers spent
I slowly crawled along
And down the other side I went
There were people standing over me
People standing high
People with teary eyes did see
The writing on the wall
As there were people standing over me
And as I headed towards chemim Lebrun
I heard some people sing some old forgotten songs
Holding candles of whitish hue
Lamenting a man called Jim
As I headed towards chemim Lebrun
And as I rested for a while
In my house upon my back
I rested with a blissful smile
At the end of my shiny track
As I rested for a while
Categories:
whitish, death of a friend,
Form:
Ode