Best Who 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
Who but God could paint the evening sky
And use a brush that is a fiery torch?
Tonight, the garish sunset makes me high
In awe, I stand and watch it from my porch
Who but God could make the insects sing?
Cicadas droning on with their night song
Still better yet, to sing with legs and wings
Tonight, their cousin crickets sing along
Who but God could hang the moon and stars?
Each star a wish, the moon a silent friend
To light our nights as we live our memoirs
To pull the tides and push them back again
And yet, I understand, some don't believe
Who but God can grant them their reprieve?
July 19 2017
Religion or Philosophy
It's raining again, grey neon skies,
washing away suppressed surfaces,
to reveal unhealed wounds,
to scars the eyes cannot see
sometimes they bleed.
Some say words heal,
but I resist to express them,
because I'm afraid of my vulnerabilities,
anxious about tears I've never cried.
You only see the smile,
no one remembers that naive boy,
waiting at the window
for the shepherd who forgot his flock,
and he was no black sheep
if only I could reach him now
so he would not grow up like he did not belong,
stop searching for something,
he did not know how to find.
Stop composing that melancholic symphony,
recycling emotions, he did not understand,
I would tune his piano keys,
repair his violin's broken strings,
but
there are too many silent secrets,
blood stained walls will never reveal.
You left me behind,
with an empty toy box,
taking with you childhood hopes,
so ensued a vacuum of darkness -
sucking me deeper into confusion.
I remember watching you walk away,
along a path of overgrown weeds.
If it was not for the gift of mum's marbles,
I would not have laid an alternative path,
creating my protective bubble,
so I could float away, from all the troubles
until I lost them too.
Tell me father,
how was I to become a man?
You pushed me upon my knees,
like a cherry blossom in the wind.
A victim of your sins,
struggling to rise in adolescence,
I kept faith in the path of marble,
grateful for the guidance of my bubble.
After years of silence
upon your final sighs,
watching you die without words,
tears exploded for a stranger,
forgiving broken promises,
forgetting your crimes -
cursing stubbornness and bitterness,
thinking maybe it was me,
not just you
questions that will never be answered.
Today I stand before your bed of marble,
no need for a bubble, I feel no emotions.
After all I am a product of my childhood,
and you were a result of your own.
Silent One
18 August 2019
When splendor of love spun dreams ecstatic
Musings of fantasy waltzed joyous themes
On blossoms of meadows in prime of spring
And giggles of streams donning green prairies
I felt your presence my eager beats crooned
When halo of the moon ravished our mood
As melodic rhythms inflamed doting hearts
And voice of hot passion blazed our romance
You were sweet life that I cheerfully claimed
And I was to you what your triumph meant
But feelings euphoric soon lost their edge
When in winds of change vows of youth drifted
I saw you go there where lonesome souls cry
Where emotions despised strife of pale sighs
When day’s silence often filled awkward void
And haze of nights we spent gazing gray skies
When dawns soon arose enveloped in shroud
Love too got masked, cloaked in stygian clouds
And allure, once acclaimed, began to fade
As contempt of sameness dwindled our flames
As you leave this dream, dear, you know it too
No longer the birds choose to croon your tune
They are searching someone they loved and knew
The one they once wooed, who used to be you
January 27, 2021
Poem of the day on January 28, 2020
Placed 1st: Watered-down juice poetry contest
Sponsor: Edward Ibeh
Ten syllables per line (howmanysyllables.com)
WHO I’LL BE TOMORROW
If what I am,
And what I do,
Makes me who I’ll be tomorrow,
If what I say,
And what I don’t,
Makes me who I’ll be tomorrow,
If what I think,
With heartfelt wisdom,
Makes me who I’ll be tomorrow,
If what I see,
And what I feel,
Makes me who I’ll be tomorrow,
If what I speak,
Be it right or wrong
Makes me who I’ll be tomorrow,
If I am ugly,
To those I love,
Makes me who I’ll be tomorrow,
If I could dare,
To hide a sin,
Makes me who I’ll be tomorrow,
If I only take,
And never give,
Makes me who I’ll be tomorrow,
I’ll have to stop and think,
Who do I want to be tomorrow!
Who Can Argue Miracles Exist?
No man, be he grandiloquent or coarse;
be he a learned novel or tattered page;
be he devout in faith or drenched in doubt;
be he a man replete with shame of sin:
No man (unless an empty man who flaps like cynic’s skin)
who has watched the early sun come out
or heard the song of sparrows spared the cage:
No man in love with his daughters: No man in love with his universe.
4/30/2019
Submitted for: Let's Have an Argument
Sponsored by Kevin Shaw
the lullaby of butterflies hums
in the early morning air.
a rounded light of gold
above the purple clouds
spots a blue filtered peak.
trees unite as one in the constant drizzle of rain.
flowers wild, spill in colors hurried
to fill barren ground.
mammals of every kind lay unseen,
asleep and covered in blankets green.
and I wonder,
I wonder who,
who would nullify?,
this bouquet...
of sweetly scented
awes!
With Love
22~12~2014
Yes, he broke my heart, but not the usual way
With tender words, he made my poor heart sway
Each chamber beamed with his adoring smile
That chased the demons, made my life worth while
He broke my heart….
My heart was callous, filled with dirt and grime
Its walls all hardened by betrayal’s crime
And there he was a blazing ray of light
That came into my heart and made things right
He broke my heart…
He bathed each wall with sympathizing tears
And made me feel the joy of youthful years
He made of me of a woman, blooming fair
Oh how he glorified my raven hair
He broke my heart….
He broke down each defense that I set up
And gave parched lips a drink from lover’s cup
He loved my body, and adored my mind
And vowed my beauty was the rarest kind
He broke my heart….
He broke my heart, he broke my every care
He broke the chains that had me in despair
He broke my silence, and he made me sing
He broke my crutch and gave me angel wing
He broke my heart…
And in the breaking, love gushed out from me
In deluge of romance and constancy
Renewed, refreshed, revived from broken dreams
He broke my heart and bathed it in his streams
He broke my heart….
Eileen Manassian
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?
nothing spoils this surface view ~ see me
crave attention, gift empty touch
tonal mask veils flaws and vices
face alter ego and kneel
to feed the shallow shadow that circles
~ around gossamer tears of the grieving moon,
as silenced streaks of tongue-twisted lines,
undress a puddle of poisoned stars
pull force imperceptible, attraction
lost in blissful contemplation
comatose until that last equation
gravitational persuasion creating longing
but will the lake that flows with fears
thaw words tangled in golden chains?
for I’ve drowned in liquified lies,
drawing perfection from imperfect reflections
delve to the depths of my spun world
peripheral interference dissipates in darkness
only requirement is carved version of self
that steadies my hand and drags me in
sinking beneath Narcissus's polluted undertow
tainted oxygen leaves my expanding lungs
hitting jagged rocks, spoiled skin shreds,
exposing a forgotten empath ~ salvation rises
Who would I bring back, if I had only one
Perhaps a great leader, Kennedy or Lincoln
Or I could choose a musical icon
Such as John Lennon or Michael Jackson
Maybe a legend of the silver screen
Maybe Marilyn Monroe or James Dean
All gifts to the world, but the selfish truth
I would bring back the mother of my youth
The mother who, with sublime grace,
Applied lipstick and blush to her ivory face
The mother whose delicate jasmine perfume
Filled my childhood's every room
Whose all-day-long-to-cook beef stew
Was the first comfort food I knew
Her dancing steps, so full of ease
Until the claws of arthritis seized
Her laughter so free, her hugs so giving
Before these days of assisted living
I would return the fire to her hair
And raise her from the wheelchair
And, as I used to, watch her choose
Her dress, earrings, necklace and shoes
Then she'll softly kiss my cheek
Before going out, coiffed and sleek
To her I would give my own energy
To be, again, the woman in my memory...
10/09/18
for Caren Krutsinger's 'Who Would You Bring Back' contest
Line of enquiry:
"We look for that that does not come and go
it cannot be organic form, subject to decay
thoughts and beliefs are fickle, how little we know
yet come what may, our inner child continues to play."
Souls search for the eternal, silently casting their gaze,
pondering about what remains untouched by fading days.
What are we but primitive forms, easily led astray.
Upon a quest for the timeless that will forever stay.
Thoughts and beliefs are fragile like whispers in the wind.
Volatile and flowing in a dance that can easily rescind.
How little some know about their inner cosmic aspect,
yet onward we journey, undeterred by the prospect.
In the theatre of life our inner child takes the stage.
A playful spirit immune to the true wisdom of age.
Through tribulations and triumphs our characters change.
Laughing in innocence, youth cares not how the storms engage.
We are mere guests to travellers we meet on the highway,
each one with a lesson but most never really stay.
Our spirits flourish when we search for sincere meaning,
so if we do not question, then life can be demeaning.
For in seeking the eternal in a world of ebb and flow,
we find comfort in the constant, where inner treasures grow,
so, let my heart ignite in intimate fields where dreams remain.
To embrace tomorrow, regardless to what hopes we attain.
I am the ring around Saturn
spinning words as particles of ice and dust
with the power to transcend
I am the original chosen to be right here right now
transmitting verbal frequencies
through speaking my thoughts into existence
I am the heir of omnipotence,
born with a direct connection to profound abundance
The one whose words will age, yet still have substance;
since there are no boundaries attached to my pen
I am constant energy
Translating personal experience into imagery
Vulnerable to tyranny,
yet i continue attempting to share some truth
through this abstract language of poetry
I am the core
I am that I am more
I am the Divine Presence that is the Source of my rewards
I am the green you get when you mix too much yellow with the blue
That shade of gold you get when the sun resides into darkness
and when it ascends in the dawn burning dew
I am the transition between the third and fourth dimension of time;
the love you feel when you realize how it feels
I am the poem that is abstractly direct
because I write beyond limits
absorbing frequencies from 3 to 8 hertz
through meditation for several minutes
I am the one bridging the gap between
the analog ascension and the direct connection to spirit
The one who is love
because I am a descendent of it
I am the rhythm that the wind blows
I am the beginning and the ending of stories told
about the universe and how miracles unfold
I hold the power to accept judgement from those who will do just that
Not knowing that I am them in the absolute reality of me
Judge that
I am knowledge beyond measure because that is my right
So I continue meeting the different parts of me
when I meditate and write
Who am I?
I AM, THAT, I AM
~It's a Beautiful Day~
Under every star,
A smile waltz-like no other
Once a simple cherry blossom girl,
enjoying puppets and lullabies.
Sitting in front of the screen
Anxiously waiting for him to come in
through the front door, whistling a song,
trading a suit jacket, for a zippered sweater;
made with love. ---My day just got better---
***It's a beautiful day***
In a charming little town square
A servant, serving a friendly atmosphere
Welcome to the land of make-believe,
where all my friends are real.
Here comes the speedy delivery
Mr. McFeely and his letters.
Prancing puppet skin in love with
Beautiful Lady Aberlin.
Henrietta, a mighty and feisty pussycat
My favorite strings are the king and queen
Before the show ends, Trolley's a friend
tooting around from make-believe to reality.
***It's was a beautiful day***
Oh the innocence of my childhood,
My neighborhood is gone
By: PD
He held me through the maelstrom of my heart
strong arms of comfort, chest of solid might
with soothing touch the healing he did start
he brought the rays of sun to warm my night
the whispers in my ear were tender, sweet
they breathed into my soul his courage fierce
he vanquished all the cold with flaming heat
and placed his balm on wounds that lies did pierce
my heart he touched and made to beat once more
my eyes he kissed with truth, and I could see
On lips his love with kisses he did pour
he arms a haven that was meant to be
To him who loves me with such constant care
my dreams, my soul and body I will bare
Eileen