Best With Compassion Poems
Dear December, Forgive my silence,
I’m still bleeding from
the lacerations,
I still hear the echoes
from our confrontations.
So much was
lost in translation,
though I’ve been
healing in isolation.
Warm is the smile,
when you stretched
your arms
with compassion,
understanding that
not everything
is black or white.
As I’ve learned about life:
it goes on.
and In the midst of the
somersaulted journey,
I still remember those
who boosted my sanity,
when September sorrows
slayed my spirits,
as I slowly severed my thorns,
to watch them drown
in a sea of
broken breaths,
whilst perpetually
praising the painters’ pain,
and the abstracts of
architects articulating
a peaceful pathway,
although I still dwell
on the regrets from
strawberry fed wolf moon,
the night when my
heart yearned to be heard,
as I delicately smeared
my emotions across
clementine and
cranberry twilights,
in hopes
of forgetting
withered willows,
whilst letting it melt
Honeysuckle vines,
with hues of the sangria
sky reflecting ever so softly,
showing me reasons
to believe again in
better tomorrows,
for there is a rainbow
aching to glow
after every storm,
and there’s far too
much to be grateful for
in this life of delirium,
so shall we allow this
winter to be the seed
of warm light and water~
forgive the stars that
veiled their silver,
as fate turned
her back on our garden,
let memories float in
paper boats of
lilac feathered forgiveness,
along the river of reconciliation.
Let’s flow and flourish together,
leaving behind an aroma
so divine on
cashmere sweaters,
with unwritten poems
tucked beneath velvety pillows,
that tasted so many tears,
and have seen too many
vanquished fears.
"we woke up early one morn, ego shorn
it felt as though we were in form reborn
nodes within stirred, boundaries blurred
our head and heart, with love concurred"
When heavy clouds shroud the moon with lotus lies,
we walk through fiery flashes of illusion,
seeking blurred validation from starless skies,
whilst in uncertainty, hearts find seclusion.
Darkness unfurls crowned eagle feathers to rise,
letting ego flee through alchemist's vision,
surrender to serenity glazed with gold,
there's a sunset that slumbers in rain so cold.
Grace ebbs and flows through ripples of black and white,
listen to the sagas of echoing breeze.
In the abyss of your soul, is cosmic light,
and with faith intact, confined fears we shall freeze.
When doubts we cleanse through clear consciousness in sight,
keys to a meadow, mirroring inner trees,
Standing firm, unshakable midst storms of strife,
In zen we reap colors to the root of life.
But betwixt twisted tendrils, bud of peace weighs,
and It is from the demise of pride, zest thrives.
Transforming rusty browns to vermilion rays,
a prism of sparkling hope, through which mind survives.
Love is an essence served in jasmine arrays,
whilst with compassion embraced, contentment strives.
So let shackles of shallow shadows unchain,
behold the aura of pink roses to reign.
I was there
To usher you into this world
Mine were the hands that cradled your little body
The face that beamed in your presence
My hands were ready to catch you when you took those first steps
I celebrated your first words
Your smile spread across my lips
When others put you down
I was the friend who stayed by your side
You were never alone
My ears
My heart
They were filled with compassion
I held your hand during your darkest hour
Mine were the shoulders
The ones strong enough to hold you
They lifted you above the deep waters
Helping you to see beyond your own borders
You realized
You dreamed of new possibilities
My hands painted the pictures
I sang the songs
Built the buildings
Knitted the clothing that warmed you
Toiled in the fields
I was in even the smallest detail
You are that important to me
I was the teacher
The grandparent
Mom
Sometimes dad
The friend
Your wife
The stranger who came along beside you
The applause as you walked across life's stage
I was every encouraging word
I was
I am
The light
The Love
The realization of who you are meant to be
I am your God
I chose to touch you with human hands
Good Deeds are so precious
They are wonderful things
All are filled with compassion
Oh!...the happiness they bring!
They can not be corrupted
You can't buy them with cash
They are gifts...they are blessings
And they come in a flash!
Good Deeds have a Voice
And they whisper so clear
Of great tragedies, deep poverty
Things wrapped up in fear!
They tell of the darkness;
Deep sorrows - fierce pains
They will whisper of wishes
That have turned into shame
Some tell of the hopeless
Knowing not what to do
They don't realize they are waiting
For someone like you
When desperate times...Oh!
Destructions...they come!
Good Deeds with compassion
Will bring hope to some
A Good Deed can be all
That it takes at times
They will help others turn
From the dark to sunshine!
Do keep an ear open
Keep an eye open too;
They may tell of a Good Deed
That is waiting for you!
How sweet are the feelings
That comes from Good Deeds
As you bless someone else
By fulfilling their needs
Good Deeds are quite precious
Very powerful things...
They are filled with compassion
See? The hope that they bring?
How Do I See You
People often wonder
How they are perceived
Some think they're kind and nice
When really they are filled with greed
Some are selfish and self-righteous fools
A few think their beauty is mascara in blue
Some feel that de meaning others makes them upright
They usually run, when challenged to the fight
So now the question comes down to this
How do I see you Sir or do you wish to stay in bliss
You are not normal, that’s for sure
You may suffer from emotions’ scares
Your pain may be physical and intense as a hot star
So no you’re not normal, you can’t fly away
Too many look up to you
For your noble and kind ways
You give comfort and solace to those in need
Your kindness exceeds even a Rich kings largest decree
You are an engineer and builder of dreams
Reaching out to people with compassion, sometimes unseen
You belong in the kingdom of heaven
I do believe they have an all Irish bar section!
Its there we can share a brew or maybe a few
Laughing at those who live downstairs in hotter pews
178 months, 129940 hours,
now only 10 minutes remain.
Sitting in cold eerie darkness,
he observes the rhythm of water drops,
slowly wipes away streams of sweat
with his withered trembling hands.
That aching fear, gnawing in his fevered brain,
spasms of fear demanding flight
yet none to be had,
his inner soul asking why he had lost his way
why had his sad life come to this?
What lay in the caverns of darkness ahead!
Wardens pace up and down like wolves,
stopping to stare with compassion less eyes - smirking.
Waiting for the clock to chimes 12 times,
and to shout, 'dead man walking.'
He sits savoring every last breath,
rapidly repenting for all his past mistakes,
deep inside he knows its too late for regrets.
All his apologies fall upon deaf ears.
Flashes past seen, his crimes, girls and drugs, what a blast!
Pretty girls, each taking a slice, of his hoarded treasures
and he indulging in theirs with total abandonment.
O' glorious were those dead and ancient days!
Then reality came back to bite and bite hard,
saying, " such foolishness was a dream and soon comes Death"!
Too hard to bear such truth, he rushes back into fleeting dreams.
Suddenly cold, very cold he feels the deafening bleakness!
Sees the finality in the concrete and iron bars holding him.
Cries silently, what he wouldn't give for another day,
another dawn out in sunshine and fresh air!
Then reality and Fate both spoke to him saying,
" Tho' you a doomed man, meet thy death as a brave one."
Each heart beat beats with each ticking second.
He clutches his worn bible, readying himself for what lies ahead,
anxiously contemplating if he is worthy of redemption.
Rocking back and forth, unable to control floods of tears,
his thoughts are disturbed with a truncheon rattling his cell's bars,
and the dreaded final summoning of his name.
Wolves smile with sly eyes, as the stench of death fills the air.
Fellow inmates turn their faces to the ground.
He savours every step, he knows they are his last.
God is no longer the master of his condemned fate.
He knows he can't erase the crimes of his past,
but takes solace, feeling his crimes were not premeditated,
but now he must face the hypocrisy of his own premature death.
Silent One collaboration with Robert Lindley
17 December 2017
You come to me through breathing nuances of your soul
Pinpricks of laughter, tears, and excitement
Memories buried deep within
Trickles of blood
Moments of loss
My body warms
My heart expands
I am a conduit
To receive the gifts you bring
Dancing cells before my eyes
Seducing me with their movement
Our beings so blessed with
Magic and purpose
We function, often without thought
To the complexity of the mechanisms within
That pump our hearts
Containing light years of wisdom
How precious life is
How fortunate we are
To feel bliss, love, anger, and loss
We are capable of gazing into each other’s eyes
With compassion and acceptance
Able to feel the touch
Of another’s lips on ours
Miracles happen before our eyes
We can grab a tendril, a tailfeather,
A mane, or a hand
And surf the wave to gratitude
Anticipation ignites within my soul
Understanding the delicate balance of nature
Encompassing man, woman, child, and animals
Brings welcome sweet tears to my eyes
To receive the offerings of compassion, kindness, and humility
And sharing them with others brings joy
I am one
We are one together
All of us making our way
Through darkness and light
Fluttering monarch butterflies fill the air
As we gather and rise upwards
Riding the wings of the ancient bird tribes
Unspoken words fill the gauzy lavender sky
A pod of whales below guides us
Gentle giants leading us towards
Promise and new horizons
Ushered by the heartbeats of wonder within
If Only Love
If only love were in our hearts!
And each person was indeed our sister or brother.
Not judged by how little or much they
have, that would be a calming salve.
If only love were in our hearts,
We would realize finally and for once,
That truly we are not colors of crayons
In a cardboard box.
But, by a Creator,of all shades made.
Like flowers near a spring, in a sunny glade.
If only love were in our hearts!
Gratefulness and sharing would rule each and every life.
Not destruction of any living sister or brother.
For we only get to be alive once, there is no other.
If only love were in our hearts!
We'd think about thee, not always me.
We wouldn't be in a such hurry to be number one.
What have we accomplished after all our coveted
trophies are won?
If only love were in our hearts!
As poets with compassion, we would comment far more.
Not read and run,praising only just winners,
And by-passing far humbler ones as weak poem quillers.
Ah...if only love were in our hearts!
August 6, 2020
9am PST
When a woman is just a woman
She's nobody's but her own
She embraces truth in life
with compassion in her soul
When a woman is just a woman
There's ambition on her mind
There is wisdom in her words
and foundations to be kind
When a woman is just a woman
there's a beauty in her eyes
and that beauty reflects journeys
travelled through her inner light
When a woman is just a woman
There' s a sweetness in her smile
There's the instinct of a mother
with protection for each child
When a woman is just a woman
She is humble, She is plain
She' s a friend, She's a great listener
Seeks adventure and not vain
When a woman is just a woman
She thinks firstly with her heart
She gives strength yet begs protection
She needs firm securing arms
When a woman is just a woman
There are secrets still concealed
There are alluring mysteries
Chapters signed yet unrevealed
When a woman is just a woman
There is attitude, there is class
She is sensual, She is daring
She ' s a treasure born to last
When a woman is just a woman
She shakes stardust in the blues
She 's a Lucille Ball and Nelson
She ' s the gift of rainbow hues.
P.S - ( Nelson mentioned above -for Nelson Mandela )
Pls find in pictures above women who inspired me ,and their quotes
Dedicated to all Women on poetrysoup : )
Inspired by Justin's contest : ' When a woman is just a woman '
but not for the contest
My backslidden soul*, you were converted by GOD’s Word
As shown by your divine growth and testimony ’s record,
But you departed away from that great spiritual cord
Broken by worldly financial and material sword.
Turn to God Who rescues by His grace He can afford!
My prodigal soul, you were so blessed greatly
As the Lord provided for you tremendously,
But you neglected sound principles biblically
That caused your moral downfall fatally.
Turn to God Who can restore you fully!
My wayward soul, you were known to be Christ-honoring
As evidenced by your heavenly walk and divine bearing,
But you embraced humanistic doctrines so devouring,
Making you proud, yet continuing in miserable erring.
Turn to God Who can transform you be God-fearing!
My discouraged soul, you were before an example of zealousness
As seen in your conviction for godly standards and uprightness,
But you despised God’s presence and defied His holiness
While taking for granted prayer and Bible’s effectiveness.
Turn to God Who can bring you to His righteousness!
My unfaithful soul, you were then fulfilling the Great Commission
As proven by your mission-minded pursuits, filled with compassion,
But you failed to stay in the ancient landmarks of faith’s action
By compromising with secularism and liberalism’s motion.
Turn to God Who can plant you on His firm foundation!
My wavering soul, you were a guide to them who found real freedom
As told by those who owe to Christ thru you what they’ve become,
But you forgot the real source of genuine authority and wisdom
When you abandoned the only Way to heavenly kingdom. Turn to God Who invites that to Him you humbly come!
My dear soul, you surely need God with His forgiveness and guidance
As He alone can surely lift you up from your critical imbalance,
Beg on Him to uphold you on His church’s scriptural stance
And to behold you with His loving care by His divine glance.
Turn to God Who can pull you for revival’s sustenance!
*Psalm 6:4 Return, O LORD, deliver my soul: oh save me for thy mercies' sake.
May 22, 2018
In this season of festive cheer,
as hours fade into the new year,
spare a thought for those who live in fear,
who have no one to wipe away their tear.
Think of the children in this season of joy,
girls and boys without a single toy.
Their joy is just a day of peace,
when the bombs finally cease.
When you sit there comfortable and warm,
Think of the homeless struggling in the storm.
Why is it so difficult to understand,
for them this is no winter wonderland.
Some are alone in a nursing home,
Waiting for a loved one to phone
Or watching their door
Hoping it will open once more.
Touch the hearts of those lonesome tonight,
simple gestures will fill them with delight.
Remind an orphan to keep faith in life,
give them hope when struggles are rife.
With compassion, bombs will remain silent,
tongues must speak against those who are violent.
Only love can dilute streams of hate,
reach out to those in pain, to change their fate.
Silent One collaboration with Carole Duet
23 December 2017
Whispers of Light color the Night in lifeless hues
Musical Notes arrayed in soft Quotes for a muse
Filling up Lives with captivating Archives in cues
For moments of Bliss, feels like a Kiss to bemuse
Gentle Insights soften our Sights with pure truth
Creating a Peace that will never Decrease its ruth
Embracing the Heart from the very Start of our youth
Echoing Hopes, finding moral who Copes with uncouth
From the Darkness comes a Starkness that sighs
Words within a Poem, so you Show him who tries
With passions Alive, burning to Strive so they rise
Above the Pains life sometimes Gains before one dies
Faith makes one Wise in another’s Eyes detect grace
That blinds the Soul who is Whole and cannot face
The past that Casts a bitter shadow that Lasts to chase
Black thoughts Around and finally Abound in this place
Loving feelings Abide deep Inside the one who feels
Alive with Compassion that leaves you Ashen from appeals
To be Appraised by those Amazed that love like this seals
The heart with Joy which will Destroy any corrupt ideals
In Rhymes Sublime Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Joseph May
November 1, 2020
When tongue is silent, but muse is chanting - that's poetry.
When we write what the heart has been asking - that's poetry.
As dawn's hues glisten golden rays, in blue, bronze, orange skies,
musings mirror daydreams, so enchanting - that's poetry.
Butterflies smooch cosmos, as bees sip on dahlias nectar.
Scents of deep red roses start enhancing - that's poetry.
Clement air pleasantly overwhelms with pleasures of love,
muse becomes a bard lost in romancing - that's poetry.
Mentality turns dark when clouds spread densely like ash smoke.
Scarlet ink screams tears to stop storms advancing - that's poetry.
In shades of loneliness, thoughts reach out to our loyal moon,
beneath her moonlight we sojourn, standing - that's poetry.
A heart is healed by spoken words composed with compassion.
Poets smile when they see sad lips laughing - that's poetry.
As sands of sorrow pause, soul glows like a million fireflies.
Nature's metaphors leave our pens dancing - that's poetry.
Stale ink dehydrates and thoughts become segments of cement,
mind is a machine, where words keep jamming - that's poetry.
Daylight or night, bed, bath or driving, lyricists inspired
by sunshine, snow or when rain is lashing - that's poetry.
Word weavers scribbling sonnets, free verse and poetic prose,
forming imagery instead of ranting - that's poetry
Silent One, writes to honour Rumi, Shakespeare and Wordsworth,
In hope my words will be everlasting - that's poetry.
The Silent One
29 August 2020
An example for the Ghazal contest.
This Ghazal has a two worded refrain. Slightly different in format to previous ghazal, I posted, called 'Only the moon understands.'
This one has 14 syllables each line.
There are different definitions for a Ghazal, and different interpretations of the from.
Ghazal poetry is poetry of longing. Traditionally, the ghazal tended to focus on unattainable love, often illicit, or sometimes on metaphysical questions. But, today, the ghazal has broadened to touch many types of longing and loss.
The ghazal is a form poem that uses the art of rhyme and repetition. As it is originally a Persian form and the Indian subcontinent, the refrain and rhyme can be lost when translated to English, as is the meter.
A Picture Of Oneself contains not too much to tell,
Except the package showing that in which they dwell.
This is the only purpose a picture has and does,
Telling nothing about the person who is or was.
A Picture Of Oneself shows nothing that's inside.
Who is the real character that within does reside?
Are they a soul with compassion, full of empathy
Or are they all about themselves with only apathy?
How much do they care? How much do they Love?
Are they ego driven with pride derived of?
What character traits does the picture of possess,
One of integrity, virtue, along with humbleness?
Do they seek and tell the truth or do they lie?
Do they have a code of ethics they only live by?
What do they aspire for in life and/or hope to gain?
Do they care how or if it's by causing others pain?
What are they feeling, happy with joy in their heart
Or are they battling pain in their deepest, inner part?
What have they been through; what have they endured?
Have they overcome with an outlook, healthy and secured?
All the aspects of a person are left unaddressed
In a Picture Of Oneself, the real is oppressed.
The packaging is glorified, says nothing of its host;
Though appearance is deceptive, it tends to matter most.
Technology would surpass itself and be truly smart,
If there was a camera that could capture one's heart.
All the devious hearts wouldn't have invisibility
And all the hearts of beauty would shine then brilliantly.
A Picture Of Oneself may preserve one's appearance;
May be used to con others and to run interference.
But a Picture Of Oneself, nothing does it tell.
It's just a package picture, a picture of one's shell.
Written by Artsieladie/Sharon Donnelly
©2018-04-13 08:55:00 (EDT) All rights reserved.
In the depths of existence, where truths reside,
I seek the meaning that life cannot hide.
Through whispered echoes and moments sublime,
I unravel the secret, the essence of time.
It's not in the grandeur, the fortunes amassed,
Nor fleeting pleasures, they fade away fast.
The truest meaning lies in connections we weave,
In hearts that touch, in the love we receive.
For life's profound purpose is found in the soul,
In acts of kindness that make others whole.
It's in a smile shared with a stranger in need,
Or a gentle word that plants a hopeful seed.
The truest meaning lies in moments of grace,
In compassion that's shown, no matter the race.
It's the bond of family, the embrace of a friend,
The support that uplifts, a helping hand to lend.
It's in chasing dreams with relentless pursuit,
And finding purpose in passions that root.
To leave a mark, however small it may be,
In making a difference, setting spirits free.
The truest meaning lies in the lessons we learn,
In growth that follows each twist and each turn.
It's in overcoming obstacles that arise,
And finding strength within, where resilience lies.
It's in embracing both joy and despair,
Knowing that life is a tapestry, rare and fair.
For in the contrast, the highs and the lows,
We find the depth that true meaning bestows.
So let us cherish the moments we're given,
Live with intention, a life truly driven.
In love and connection, our purpose is clear,
To make a difference, to hold what's most dear.
For the truest, most profound meaning of life,
Is found in the love that erases all strife.
To touch a heart, to leave a lasting trace,
And fill each day with compassion and grace.