Best Yearned For Poems
POTW 1 Oct 2018
Gossip about her
swept the school yard through
“Hey if you’ve got what it takes
There’s this girl named Sue
For a pack of smokes
or a drink or two
She’ll kiss you ~ she’ll please you
like no other girl can do”
Her fuchsia glossed lips
Matched the colour of her hair
Her legs went on forever
She had a self-assured flair
He yearned for those baby blues
to stray his way
How did the cool guys snare girls
come what may?
Dreams on his pillow
a teenage fantasy
Were seconds away from becoming
a manly reality
She promised to meet him
in the park one night
Two packs of Marlboro’s
Under the pale moonlight
A brief kiss on the lips
then as she swiftly turned to go
He yanked her back hard
and as she fell to the floor
A fantasy was shattered
Hopes tossed away ~ abused
Feelings of rejection
Cast aside and confused
He lived in an era
Where double standards
were applauded
Girls were shamed
For going all the way
Boys rewarded
However integrity
doesn’t stoop to lows
no need to impress
Head high as he walked
it was not worth the stress
The journey was his ~ along this untrodden road
Tomorrow ~ todays rejection would be yesterday’s episode
Every step away from her was a gentle elixir
Then came her words on the wind ~ barely a whisper
‘Hey ~ I’m a virgin too ~ and a skank I’m not
They sully my name and my character they blot
The smokes are for my mum it eases her pain
And for my sick Ma I’ll do this again and again’
Continued in 'Tears on her pillow'...
Pondering prophetic legacies of timeless lovers,
my heart yearned for a province lavished with perennial passion.
Searching for an enchanted perfect petal,
I wandered within the flower garden of infatuation.
Marigolds shone, smiling among mellow yellow roses,
but their fair friendly fragrance could not quench my thirst.
In the distance, a silhouette of the rarest red rose beamed,
her dulcet aromatic ambience summoned my soul closer.
Upon the first sight of my beloved's subtle innocent eyes,
my mind drifted to a place where time did not exist.
Without a word, her radiance illuminated my whole existence,
like a butterfly admiring pulchritudinous petals - it was pure paradise.
Hand in hand we strolled embarking upon the realms of infinite love,
composing our own idyllic legacy of immortal poetic lyrics.
Simple Musings
Silent One
3 July 2018
You gave me wings
to experience the
freedom of flight
my love.
You let me soar
the skies and beyond
into other universes
where consciousness
has no boundaries,
feels no weight,
nor limitations
of the earthbound,
only coherence with other
soul travelers exploring
the many dimensions
in light form.
How could I keep
begging you to stay
when your earthly body
yearned for that same
freedom of flight from
a world without
which you will not
return in my lifetime.
We joined our hearts in vows of
“until death do we part”
and I know I must accept
your departure with all
the love you would
have offered me
had my departure
preceded yours.
We always said that death
is but a station
on our journey home
to the afterlife.
It is my turn now
to give you the same
freedom you gave me
when we met.
I often see you now in
my peripheral vision,
just a ghostly glimpse
that lets me know
you see me
and you are still looking
out for me as the protective
mate you were.
I continue to fly now
but mostly at night
as my body sleeps.
I miss your masculine
embrace and my
heart still often weeps.
June 4, 2022
A BRIAN STRAND PREMIERE CHOICE Poetry Contest~N/A~
Sponsored by: Brian Strand
~Nineth Place~
Flight Premiere Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Chantelle Anne Cooke
When my fatigued pen,
succumbed to a sleepy state of silence
in the market place of silent poets,
I searched for a tea room to stimulate my mind
my quest led me to you.
I do not recall the colours
of the cup, nor the saucer.
Only the shimmer of light,
reflecting your delicate,
slightly tanned hands.
I wondered, was it the chai
or those hazel bronze eyes -
something left me mesmerised.
One sip,
a sudden sense of serenity
overcame me -
like the sun had risen through my heart,
warm rays beamed through my eyes.
To not lose the moment,
I sipped slowly, savouring subtle sensations.
Silky smooth liquid caressed my tantalised tongue,
as taste buds yearned for just one sip from your lips.
Suddenly, a profusion of poetic thoughts
began to burst through my mind.
This was no simple musing.
Rekindled pen began to flow like rivers of chai.
Things that seemed poetic were
always sad, though I yearned for
glitter and my dad's guffaw, which
never came. Familiar things were
always drear -- repeated motions
in the same old game. There were
only distant glimpses of budding
Spring, fleeting views of daffodils.
The strongest poems dealt me
death and dying. Still, I always
hoped, never went under to gray
despair, forever dreaming of a
garden of love we could share --
but those forbidden delights
faded quickly away. The only reality
I understand is the ever-looming
and final one. Nothing's changed.
The strongest poems deal
death and dying.
I was born a poet not manufactured.
It started with a heart feeling fractured.
Childhood trauma led to built up suppression,
but the soul yearned for creative expression.
For years my poems hid in secret memoirs,
but a battle with cancer left behind deep scars.
Tongue remained silent, but my muse began to pour,
through reflection and introspective candour.
Some use words as weapons to cause sorrow,
but I write to leave a legacy for tomorrow.
I have no desire for applause nor for fame,
so I express my musings using a pen name.
Each verse is written through metaphorical blood,
in hope one day my life will be understood.
It wasn't love they needed
It was a night of passion they yearned for
One feverish touch
One delicious kiss
and it was a blaze of flame
they could not resist
She was in a high fever to touch and feel all of him
He was on fire ready to explode needing her ever most
They need not the light on
They just need each other
In the dark
In the bed
There they explore undisturbed
There they found pure satisfactions
She lay shamelessly smiling
He, holding on to her happily
Smile
Akkina R Downing
7-12-17
Let eyes meet, let them spark a fire
Let rhythms sing to music of lyre
Let heartbeats of joy write our song
In moods of kisses yearned for long
Let blushing cheeks welcome romance
Enchanting heart's seductive dance
Let winds of love ignite our flame
As night, ecstatic, croons your name
December 29, 2019
Placed 3rd: Lay it on me—8x8 poetry contest
Eight syllables per line (howmanysyllables.com)
Sponsor: Charles Messina
Placed 2nd: Strand select 6 by Brian Strand
Shadowland
Chained to the addiction of tempting Fate
What if I told you that my life was once like yours?
Torn between love and hate
A shadow silhouette lurking between life and death
Fuelled by an emptiness to which I couldn’t relate
Caution to the wind of besting the best,
A devious test?
Sweet sensations winning an egotistical contest
Life on the edge, merely a precarious precipice
Exhilarated ego threw flames to the flame
The fire inside couldn’t be tamed
Comforts of home failed to exist
Love I yearned for endeavoured to resist
Mind effortlessly lied, failing to grasp the illusion
between confused, lost and utter delusion
Life on the streets a means beyond the dare
Sink or swim baby, did anyone care?
Till the one eventful day when I chanced it too far
Catastrophic event out of nowhere in shape of a car
A sickening thud
My frivolous life paid in blood
My death in vain and loss of blooming years
Too late like acidic rain flowed those tears
What if I told you if you don’t already know?
The concise connotation
through electric flashes of blue and red
of the loudest despairing dread
When they zipped the bag and pronounced you dead?
And you become a glimmer that nobody sees
and the silent scream that nobody hears
Except other shadows between worlds
In an intermundane space
Torn between abstract, physical and a forgotten face
Temptation came as I sat here waiting
To switch sides, she urgently advised me
I saw through her guise, this diabolical entity
I’m not an Angel that fits in your regular category
So, I spat in her eye and called her a name
Oops! sorry Lord forgive me I know you heard
Some of my old sass remains
Still new to the game
Yes, understood, it’s a crying shame.
So back to my story
Redemption came in the grand scheme
I was one of the fortunate few redeemed
So, take heart, kid, abandoned to this shadowland
Not anymore
No more a wandering weary soul lost
Fate was not kind it was never your fault
Conducting your journey
to me the charge has been given
Through a leap of faith all is forgiven
You must strive to find your own voice because the longer you wait to begin, the less likely you are to find it at all.
Robin Williams - Dead poets society
Poets are born,
not manufactured.
The moment when life said:
"Recite a poem for me."
Verses began to flow,
like moonlight shimmering
upon tides rushing to the shore.
Tongue spoke in silent tones,
in a language forgotten in time.
Emotions that had been internally burning
bled a scripted sadness of sentimental scents. .
A perpetual periodical anthology of adversity,
hidden behind an enigmatic encrypted haiku,
about a lost soul's suffering in chains,
caged within the nonsense of syllables.
An unmetered sonnet,
where the world saw common rhymes,
as unforgivable idiotic crimes.
Not all metaphors make sense.
Still the quill yearned for meaning.
To write in evergreen sanguine blessings,
creating a vocabulary reminiscent
of blossoming phraseology -
but words can be misinterpreted.
When eyes lie with fake flattery,
this gifted madness you call poetry,
is like a curse for a wordsmith.
The mind becomes bewildered,
drifting in heavy hues of longing lavenders,
wondering where the spring flowers are.
Some remain content with withering thoughts,
but my ink is immortal in sowing perennial seeds.
I had yearned for it all my life
That simple gesture
That finally healed
The open wound
That for years
Bled
In a silent stream
That fell Between
The cracks in
You and me
When with a gentle sigh
You looked
Into my eyes
Held my hand
And kissed my fingertips
The day
Before you died
I loved you before your eyes were blue
Before your face belonged to you;
Before I heard your voice, I knew
The love I never knew was you.
Long days and nights I yearned for you
Without a name or shape for you;
And when at last I met you
I knew I had always loved you.
And when I lay in bed with you
Enchanted by the night and you;
Holding close the naked you
I knew I'd always be with you.
The wait has been too long but now it’s time
To hold with love what she yearned for
No words for joy but grateful tears.
The radiant face aglow with sparkling tears
Cradling her child for the first time
She knows it’s been worth waiting for.
The fruit of mutual love she’s thankful for
She feels its breath and sheds warm tears
A lasting bond will grow in time.
A precious gift is born; it’s time for tears.
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1st line of each tercet & final line = pentameter
2nd & 3rd lines of each tercet = tetrameter
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19th July 2014
Contest: Tritina Challenge
Sponsor: Craig Cornish
"All day I think about it, then at night I say it.
Where did I come from, and what am I supposed to be doing?
I have no idea.
My soul is from elsewhere, I'm sure of that,
And I intend to end up there." Rumi
In search of my beloved,
my supernova soul was born,
floating among gardens of glistening galaxies,
adoring heavenly hues of sapphire,
amethyst and emerald constellations,
where efflorescence butterflies,
fluttered among elysian scents.
Yet I still yearned for her forbidden fragrance.
Cultivating the art of transcendental romance,
euphoric emotions wrote an amaranthine aubade,
hoping the universe would hear my call,
as my love is a timeless lunar lullaby,
lingering like a flute echoing moonstone melodies,
where passion travels with each
nocturnal note composing a cosmic chorus,
ordained from an orchestra of galactic halos.
At twilight, in a playground of primrose promises,
millions of pulsar pearls appeared.
Silent and still, sentimental stars shimmering,
listening to the desires of my heart,
but at dawn they were always forgotten.
In my hallucination of loneliness,
fatigued from evanescent entities,
I awaited to hear her halcyon harmony,
until echoes vibrated from the moon,
so I became a slave to moonlight -
but it too, abandoned me at daylight.
Must I forever be the victim of selfish sunrise?
Upon the elegance of an ethereal eternal eclipse.
the last star wept sacred stardust on autumn leaves,
which glowed as they withered from scarlet to saffron.
In Nebula's November cull of death,
I fell like a comet in a meteor shower,
betrayed, falling into a quasar black hole -
lost forever.
Without interstellar lyrics,
I no longer illuminate,
maybe some light is too bright.
But, I know there is a rustic rose,
blossoming upon vintage shores,
so, every night I look up to the sky,
wondering where you are?
In these realms, within which I roam,
I watch each star suffocate
from the suppression of affection.
Seems no spectral spirit is selfless enough
to ignite this symphony of silence.
Maybe I was born a cosmic Casanova.
Maybe I'm just an intergalactic Romeo.
~
She reached for the ribbons of her gown
not knowing why, but she held them in her hand
as she floated through the ever changing mist,
whites and grays in a swirling pattern,
mesmerizing in blends and shifts,
blurred yet possessing a clarity she could not explain
or cared to think about right now
She looked down on herself in her bed sobbing,
clutching tightly a dampened pillow, lonely, a photo
in a silver frame on the bedside table, missing...
now very confused as a peaceful awareness wrapped about her warmly,
caressing her spirit, washing away the pain,
the sadness, the torment which she fought now to remember
as it drifted below, creating new shadows about her feet
but distant, never forgotten, she couldn’t, it was promised…
Once more the satin ribbons were pulled gently, guided
as if a feather laced kite on a silver string embracing blue skies,
dancing about in the slow rhythm, spun in clouded dreams,
breathless she soars higher, it seems towards the sun
or perhaps a light of a different source, it felt soft, cool
beckoning her and she yearned for it…
for some reason it felt right
Stars swept past her in wiry glistening designs
like a sparkler at a summer cookout waved through the air
in abstract cherry-lime glowings and apple pie tickles and she smiled,
for the first time in a long time as the moon disappeared on the horizon,
embracing this new experience she continued allowing the tender tugs on her ribbons
to move her freely, when she felt something, it was a hand on hers,
helping her hold the ribbons, it felt familiar, safe, comforting
When she saw his eyes, as clear as she had ever seen anything,
deep and friendly, soothing just as she had remembered…remembered?
He took her by the hands and he came even more into focus
“Hi there, I have missed you,” he sighed and she knew it was him
He was here, wherever here was, he held her in his arms now as he said,
“I promised you I would love you eternally, I have been waiting for you”
She cried again, happy tears as she whispered. “You did, you did, is this…”
“Shhh,” he placed a caring finger to her lips…