Best Words Poems
I often scribble in the sand
The words I find so hard to say
And hope the wind will come along
And blow them all your way.
----------------------------
Contest: Simply Beautiful
Sponsor: Kelly Deschler
Placing: 2nd (April 2015)
Contest: Five Lines or Less
Sponsor: Black Eyed Susan
Placing: 2nd (April 2014)
Published in:
PS: It’s Still Poetry Volume II ~ (1 Jan. 2022)
ISBN-13:? 979-8793344418
~The best poem ever~
Without saying a word I’m going to go where no one has gone before.
A twilight zone, only God and I know of.
Without saying a word I’m going to recite the best poems ever.
Poems with no vision too stare.
Quietly with a hum, only you can hear.
Silent through my mind I will walk whistling, without a care.
Feeling and thinking as my heart beat goes on.
Searching for your heart beat next to mine.
Dreaming of words that blind,
Dreaming of words which connect us together!
Without saying a word I’m going to look and speak for the first time.
Howl and feel as our chemicals sublime.
I’m going to get hungry before I die in your arms.
Through circles and rods, I carry this year alone.
Imagining all the days it was only you and I.
“Not only I!”
Without saying a word I’m going to listen for your voice to call my name.
A whisper that setting itself on repeat.
Anticipating, those look before you look away.
Wanting and waiting, I will still be whistling.
Overwhelmed by, fate at the door.
Without saying a word I’m going to, leave a whisper in the bedroom
Without making movement, with my mouth!
Control all the space, around me.
Touching the energy you left behind.
Hear the snowy winter chime.
Experience all the shelter in your hold.
Without saying a word I’m going to, lay down beside you.
Laying in a way, that feels better than freedom.
Millions of miles away, I’ll still be whistling.
And waiting and waiting, for that perfect lay.
Arguing and embracing the air we both breathe.
A breath for every reason!
Without saying a word I’m going to, mime the world tonight.
Over and over, till I mime the perfect poem, like the olden days.
Without a word to say!
I’m wrapping my own arms around me, like a mime.
Explaining the breath you took without me.
Talking to myself without saying a word!
Writing the perfect poem without a word to say!
Without saying a word I’m going to, yell this inside.
Whistle and mumble till I’m out of breath.
Dying with my dreams to be by your side!
Without saying a word I’m going to, close my eyes and see your face.
A bond not even death can break.
Without saying a word I’m going to, sit here, till your wind hits.
A tap that’s inspires the best poem ever.
Until then, I’m going to whistle without a word to say.
And enjoy your silhouette everyday.
by;pd
This seasoned evening
sported a full faced
Orange Kool-Aid moon.
Fully aware it was a marvel
it shot me an arrogant wink.
Not once but twice.
I think i heard it laugh.
It certainly flashed me an impish smile.
Not much different than my own.
No camera could ever capture
a moment this precious.
This needed,
words-
the heart of my imagination.
I stepped inside.
Pen in hand,
iPad at my right side,
laptop in front of me,
desktop computer behind me,
electric typewriter on my left side
I was ready.
I only hoped I would be able
to express in words what
I had experienced.
I penned this.
This seasoned evening
sported a full faced
Orange Kool Aid moon.
Fully aware it was a marvel
it shot me an arrogant wink.
Not once but twice.
I think i heard it laugh.
It certainly flashed me an impish smile.
Not much different than my own.
09~11~2014
Sponsor: Poet Destroyer A
Contest Name: Best Poem of 2014
Passing through framed windows like ours,
I recall your tales of reckless war and lost friends
that burned your innocence at 21... and though
you claimed flashes of courage, moist eyes
poured vulnerability looking calm, undaunted.
We both searched deeply into our souls
as a father is to his young daughter, that I wanted
to let you know, it was alright;
but that mound of shoulders turned away.
Down the years as officer and gentleman,
Time stole long weeks, absent from your dining chair,
leaving me resentful and bitter on hardened sills
until you arrive under crawling dock of stars.
But in free moments, how you cherished
me so; waking my cheeks at 3 am to race the winds,
to fly with a shooting neon, laughing with a blue moon.
You spoke of faith and honor if life dared a shame, oh
mild scent of your arms cuddling my girlish dreams...
until off you rode suddenly on heaven’s wheel.
I see you through all framed windows like ours,
that even if my iced breaths needed you more
as small flowers thirsted for rain, my anger was a cry
for love’s company... “ I have adored you
in moments of distance and nearness, if not
always, then for all eternity.”
Have I forgotten to open this, my soft, broken sigh?
Dad, everything is all right.
Ir0nic Zink's Your Personal Favorite Poem Contest
Resubmitted 5/19/2017
her words,
now naked.
Finally
letting them e
e v
v o
l
and run into
silent seams
~ for my fellow poets ~
as slaves to the pen
or our keyboard, more apt
this molding of words
in a word, holds us rapt
fine fancies or fears
take us places unknown
our muse and our craft
better focused alone
the voice of our id -
the bounce of our rhyme
thus, charming or edgy
depending the time
midst romantic puddles
and whimsical trees
we splash our ideas
casting love to the breeze
a danger or hope or
a scorched trist-or-two
occur mind-to-matter
with the lines we imbue
the light AND the dark,
they both hold allure
our child's heart within -
just a tad bit impure
for tho we adore all the
things blithe and bright
we also know beauty
blooms deep in the night
if somber or joyous
thru passage or pain
it’s creatively ordered
thru rhyme and refrain
it's not that we're allied
- that we always agree
it's how we can sculpt
all the wonders we see
so although we may be
as different as spices
we’re thrall to our verses
whatever that price is
for it's a rare language
that few can command
but we speak it together
with a pen in our hand
so you may be a person
whom I've never met
but the gift of your writing
I'll never ...
forget.
~ 1st Place ~ in the "What Do We Have In Common" Poetry Contest, Kim Rodrigues, Sponsor.
~ Poem of the Day ~ featured on Poetry Soup.com on May 11, 2018 - many thanks to those in charge for the honor.
sometimes
we are afraid to jump
but we take the leap
sometimes
when we fall deeply
it's not our limbs injured
sometimes
what is meant for us
hurts too much
sometimes
nothing makes sense
confusion reigns supreme
sometimes
we only have tears
to express emotions
sometimes
some see the facade
only a few see reality
sometimes
our heart breaks
but we love again
sometimes
we die inside
but we still breathe
sometimes
we become machines
but we are still human
sometimes
we see the stars
but not the moon
sometimes
when we follow the moon
we forget the stars
sometimes
we look back in regret
but we move on
sometimes
in metaphorical storms
we have poetry
always
when we are silent
we have our words
Write here, right now. Write now, right here!
Capture the moment while it's near
and seize the day. You now know how:
write now, right here; write here, right now.
The rhyme is tight. The time is right
to write some rhyme this time of night –
a rite of writing, lacking light.
The time is right, the rhyme is tight.
Another draft you craft in ink.
No lucre comes from thoughts you think;
though relatives may think you daft,
you craft in ink another draft.
All you can see you then can say.
At dawn, as dark dissolves to day,
with light, you write. In poetry,
you then can say all you can see.
The play’s the thing, you need to play
with words. Then, playfully they say
what makes the heart smile, cry, or sing;
you need to play, the play’s the thing.
Now play on words and let them dance
in rhymes and rhythms of romance;
teach them to sing like carefree birds
and let them dance. Now play on, words!
[swap quatrain]
written 18 July 2021
She had so many chances
Yet she kept muffin it up
Butter intentions were good
Just not much coffee in her cup
Couldn’t make a good decision
Too much waffling back and forth
Always peppered with doubt
Should she head south, no maybe north
Still, she was fun at a party
I would say, hummus a tune
She’d say, "Icing because I’m happy"
As the words began to croon
Maybe that’s what’s most important
Omelet let her off the hook
So she’s always in a pickle
Doesn’t do things by the book
Once again, I’m gonna help her
Since she is such a good egg
I said, girl, you’d go much farther
If you weren’t such a nut Meg
Painting with Words
If I were an artist instead of a poet
I’d paint what I knew as others would know it.
I’d be a Renoir and never a Klee
I’d paint what I saw as others would see.
If I were a painting instead of a poem
I’d use vivid colors on flowers or crone.
It’s the texture that matters , the curl of the line
Not the meter or syntax or even the rhyme.
I’d paint up a heaven, bright stars in the sky.
My colors would dazzle and make people cry.
I’d paint with abandon but nothing too styled.
I’d paint a dog barking, the cry of a child.
The blush of the morning, awash with the dew,
The eyes of a lover I’d capture for you.
But I’m just a poem, a small little rhyme
So I’ll paint with my words while you paint with your mind.
just going to church every week ~ does not make you a better Christian
be grateful for everything that you have ~ because many have nothing
love and respect are not something that you can buy ~you have to earn them
our world leaders and politicians ~ do not bear the scars of battle
your clock of life is ticking and does not stop ~ do not waste a second
surely it is not the end of the world ~ if your team loses a game
always accept a gift ~ don't hurt someone's feelings by refusing it
the reward for kindness is the joy you bring ~ to someone else's heart
it is inevitable that you will grow old but think young ~ stay young
the only true winners in wartime ~are the arms manufacturers
machines make life easier ~ but cannot function without your input
Written 14th March 2021
I speak my thoughts with gentleness
The things I need to say with care
Thoughts held in my hands, gone through my fingers,
balanced on my fingertips...
... sent to my lips.
I speak my words with thoughtfulness
from my faltering tongue
The air swaying rippling with
meaningful sound
I speak my words out loud, they land
where I want them to bloom
Sometimes as small white daisies
Other times as beautiful blue thistles
or roses.
I watch them grow, my eyes follow their
independent will and stubbornness
With pride I stretch my hands
to pick them and arrange...
They grew on me.
***
September 21, 2017
Copyright © Darren White
Your mind's in knots,
as stress plagues thoughts.
On hope you cling,
to bloom like Spring.
Its fine my dear,
nerves can cause fear.
Don't be so scared,
gifts must be shared.
Your smile is cute,
when you are mute.
No need to hide.
I'm by your side.
Let the world hear,
your tone so clear.
Your will is strong,
burst out your song.
Sweet sounds you make
our breaths they take.
Look how eyes beam,
your name they scream.
Go to that length,
love is your strength.
Your voice brings peace,
helps fears to cease.
Like sad trapped birds,
tongue holds back words.
Free them from cage,
take to the stage.
When your heart sings,
charms like harp strings.
Look how they dance,
as your tunes trance.
Silent One
31 January 2018
Another example for 128 words contest.
Rhyme poem.
Four words per line all one syllable each.
32 lines: 128 words.
I tried my best
To live between your cruel words
Yet there was no room
I felt less
Smaller than small
So why didn't I fit?
I wonder
Now that you are gone
Who's words had you borrowed?
Did the pain you gave to me come from another's broken heart?
Was it too much to bare?
I now have room at the end of your sentences.
Not forced within the confines of your spaces
Tracing the manicured pearls of your wisdom
You have not had the last word
I am not doomed to your hypothesis
I'm willing to dance on the edge
My cliff is of note
worthy of jumping from
For I am not Icarus
There is no reason to fear the sun
Only your ice will melt from my wings
I do not wish to re-live your convoluted nightmare
The drifting of your mind
Those barriers to my existence
Freedom at last
Yes
Freedom
At the end
Yes
At the end of your sentences.
The lesson I learned is that the only one who can define my being is me.
I also learned that painful words and curses can be passed on from generation to generation unless we put a stop to it. I thank God for the strength He provided me. I have been blessed beyond what I expected as a child.
Noble Souls
Noble souls arise,
build steps,
forge roads,
carry tough loads,
scale peaks,
quell fears,
dream stars which blaze,
clear those black skies.
These souls would tears erase.
Noble souls offer cheer,
avoid wrath
crush their pride,
prove their worth,
value earth,
speak sober words,
shape lives,
plant hope’s seeds,
serve other folks’ basic needs.
Noble souls rally,
never crawl,
never stall.
Their adept hands
nurse other souls’ awful aches.
Sweet roses
adorn their loved
angel faces.
Noble souls exist.
A poem using only 5-letter words
Dec. 21, 2017 for Rhoda Tripp's 'Fem Bogstaver (Danish)' Poetry Contest