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Best Youth Poems | Poetry

Below are the all-time best Youth poems written by Poets on PoetrySoup. These top poems in list format are the best examples of youth poems written by PoetrySoup members

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New Youth Poems

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YOUTH AND BEAUTY by Trifiatis, Demetrios
The Youth of Spring by Ibeh, Edward
To The Wife Of My Youth by Berggren, Alfred
Days Of Youth by Rushing, Wren
Sweet Bird Of Youth by Smith, Gary
LUSTFUL YOUTH by Gbenebitse-daniel, Tosanmi
In Teaching Youth by Asuncion, Bernard F.
LAUGHS OF YOUTH by Trifiatis, Demetrios
MESSAGE TO THE YOUTH by pangu, simeon austin david
Youth Days by Warren, Paul

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The Best Youth Poems

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Courage of Youth, Battle of Ypres, Flanders Field

Courage of Youth, Battle of Ypres, Flanders Field
(A Tribute)

Tough as nails young man with a red right hand
red-fire and whiskey ran in his blood.
Courageous seed of vast and cold hard land
quick temper, power of a surging flood.
Seeker of life, its promised mysteries
rash gambler with all he would ever own.
Born on ship in high wind swept, roaring seas
toughest warrior his town had ever grown.

Met his fate by volley of red-hot lead
buried on ground scared and battle blasted.
Aye boys, fodder that machine guns were fed
fools marching to death, long as it lasted.

Now flowers cover up and Time denies
scenes of battle torn soil and blood-red skies.

R.J. Lindley
April 23rd, 1975

Tribute to Courage of Youth-- Second Battle of Ypres, April 22nd 1915 .

Note- added - 8-26-2017

The name Flanders Fields is particularly associated with battles that took place in the Ypres Salient, including the Second Battle of Ypres and the Battle of Passchendaele. For most of the war, the front line ran continuously from south of Zeebrugge on the Belgian coast, across Flanders Fields into the centre of Northern France before moving eastwards — and it was known as the Western Front.

The phrase originates from a poem titled In Flanders Fields by Canadian Lieutenant-Colonel John McCrae, inspired by his service during the Second Battle of Ypres. The fields were not maintained for years before they were made into a memorial. Today Flanders Fields is home to thousands of poppies.


Found this while rummaging through some of my old poems. Decided not to edit it. Leave it as it was composed over 42 years ago..
Added the note for those not familiar with that battle and its horrific carnage, primarily from the insanity of large bodies of troops marching into direct machine gun fire.

Copyright © Robert Lindley | Year Posted 2017

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Shackles nor chains, can't change what it is.....
Never was it, the one hiding under the bed, 
It was me, tired of it getting inside my head
.... I can still feel, the groping at my feet,
Pulling me from under the sheet,
A victim to your personality 
Nothing can, uninstall these walls
--- Walls of bricks, that can't be taken down

On the night, I've learned of your return 
My bones began to shiver, as they too shudder,
   remembering every black tinge feeling left behind. 
Before the bricks, your filth put my innocence into your victim's box
Without a voice, I fell with no one to rescue me...
Sometimes, I wondered who else had to look into its heinous eyes
Nights without security, you crept in' with every morning cry
With nowhere to hide, I found myself constantly victimized.  

Nefarious, at my bedside, how did I manage to survive?
Unwanted communication, stole my youthfulness away,  
So young, yet persistent diabolical stories hide inside
Bones turned into a tomb of stones
Decayed and withered years, never to be unveiled
Some stain will never wear off or be forgotten
The monster, I once helped shut down,
Soon to return on another bedside,
Now, someone else will close their eyes, 
   And hear the monster's whisper, "Shh, don't tell, or else!"

And just to think for a moment I felt safe,  the air felt different
Now, I feel dirty all over again, 
No one can fix or put the ease back to sleep.....
Just as long as it still LIVES'


#Monsters Living in Our Society 
#Let's take them down one by one

Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2018

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Do Not Grieve Your Muse

              (For My Younger Self)

You have forgotten your muse.
You neglected her, in the hustle and bustle
of city life, in trying to carve a niche,
driving yourself too hard -
thinking it could make you rich.

She grieves.
Don’t you see her? She grieves.
How she longs to reunite with you
but you are far too busy, with everything new.
Too unmindful, too steeped in the practical
your change was so radical;
Too pragmatic, everything has become automatic.  
You have lost touch with your muse, 
no matter how she pleads you have become obtuse.
When will you reach into the softer, 
more introspective part of yourself?  
Please do not say, never.

Remember how you would write through the night
and people around you would wonder why…
Those moments were priceless, 
the times you communed with words so ageless
as you poured onto paper all your emotions -
In the night, you would write of happiness and pain,
of a young love, and of your simple dreams.

Go back to those simple dreams.
Do not allow yourself to be lost 
in the conundrum that is Life.
Step back, take stock, be still.
Find time for meditation, there is no condemnation
for those who acknowledge the need for salvation.
And as you find that inner peace, 
write once more.
Write, and write some more.  
Set free all those words that have long been kept
within your heart…the happy words, the sad words,
words both simple and intricate
that a reader will enjoy as he masticates
the meaning, the lesson, the joy and young wisdom.

Let your words dance…let your words s o a r !

31 October 2015
Poem of the Day 01 November 2015
Awarded 1st Place  -  What Would You Say Contest

Copyright © KP Nunez | Year Posted 2015

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The Irony Of Fate

In a moment of juvenile jealousy he envies his red rival with its intimate and greedy embrace of her angels’ share of honey and vanilla spice as wet stretchy hands of fervent fabric possessively cup her brandied beauty amidst wistful notions to revive his parched heart he craves to be ladled with her ardent spirits to be cradled in the tulip of her essence - evaporating every chill from the calyx of her sweetened cordial warming her in the hearth of his hands as she melts like buttery sunbeams intoxicating the bleached beachy sands.. ...his dreamy grin falters and his tantric trance fades as the tattered edges of reverie unravel and a haze beclouds his aged green-eyed gaze - graying his white periwinkle pipe dream as he sees that his best days are long past Susan Ashley July 18, 2018 ______________________________ *irony of fate represents the notion that the gods (or the Fates) are amusing themselves by toying with the minds of mortals with deliberate ironic intent* * the white periwinkle flower represents pleasures of memory * *cordial represents a strong, sweetened aromatic liquor; liqueur being expressed as a stimulating medicine that invigorates and exhilarates*

Copyright © Susan Ashley | Year Posted 2018

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That Period of Life

Orange is more appreciated by the tongue that tastes lime to do so, if not now, when would be the time? Senses and instincts are the same to all gender deaf ears are given to morality sender. So much energy seizes from the heart its license exhibiting any act irrespective of sense. The road to harm and danger is direct to such travels, curiosity stands erect. Every bad move has an allocated score a rotten seed spreads its allergic spore. Hate the rules, damn the instructions utilizing body parts to their full functions. Following the media and not wanting to be left behind slippery rocks and rusting metals placed around the mind. In the room of so much entertainment, bodies lay hoping the pleasure will be long and will stay. Drugs, sex, alcohol and violence all giving this shade time passes, leaving the young heart the need of an aid. Habits learned and adopted to make or to go astray when maturity sinks in, the wise simply walks away

Copyright © Funom Makama | Year Posted 2016

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Being Young

Then ...

  We dabbled our toes in soft summer air, speckled with thistle, dancing ...

      Pressing our backs to the meadow, bare

        Honey-dew sweet, our bee-tickled feet

            Your tortoise-shell eyes, entrancing ...

              Skin touching skin, too wilful for glancing.

(How we wasted such youth ... being young) ... then ...

  We blew our kisses to cauliflower clouds, swimming in van Gogh grasses ...

      Curtsying sunflowers waving their shrouds

        The lemon sun shined on our virtues, entwined

            Your scent sweet as warm molasses ...

              Lips brushing lips, amidst giggled passes.

(How we wasted such youth ... being young) ... then ...

  We spun with sparrows, a strain, to the sky, plucked with an eager intent ...

      Born upon wings as a burgeoning sigh

        Hot-spice afternoon, thus charmed us to swoon

            Too impatient to care what it meant ...

              Wherever urge led us, we heedlessly went.

(How we wasted such youth ... being young) ...

How we tasted life's TRUTH ... being young.

* FIFTH PLACE in the "February 2018 Premiere" Poetry Contest, Brian Strand, Sponsor. *

* SECOND PLACE in the "Best Rhyming Poem October thru December 2017" Poetry Contest, John Hamilton, Sponsor. *

Copyright © Gregory R Barden | Year Posted 2017

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The Perfect Friend

The Perfect Friend ©

Today I found a friend 
Who knew everything I felt
She knew my weakness
And the problems I’ve been dealt.
She understood my wonders
And listened to my dreams, 
She listened to how I felt about life and love
And knew what it all means.
Not once did she interrupt me
Or tell me I was wrong
She understood what I was going through
And promised she'd stay long.
I reached out to this friend, 
To show her that I care
To pull her close and let her know
How much I need her there.
I went to hold her hand 
To pull her a bit nearer
And I realized this perfect friend I found
Was nothing but a mirror

Written by Shannen Wrass
Copyright © 1995 Shannen Wrass. All Rights Reserved

Copyright © Shannen Wrass | Year Posted 2013

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Lonely Dreams

I never knew following dreams could be this lonely,
But up on the hill, looking back, thank God I'm not the old me.
If the tears will fall, let them be;
I believe this is God's plan, follow your dreams.

Copyright © Kevin C. Martin | Year Posted 2013

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Guess Who

~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

Copyright © Poet Destroyer A | Year Posted 2016

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Spider songs

Blades of grass, wet under foot, insect eyes  
Dusk, offset by the cricket orchestra 
Muted and receding into the trees and bushes,
Tickled by the wind, rattling snake tail wind 
While we may be in the company of wolves,
A long legged friend is late for the party 

Eyes, little iridescent stars 
Attending to each one, and look there, 
There she is, making the most beautiful geometry 
Parallels within the octagons, pulling silks
An arm for every task, little perpetual motion machine

Is that the Queen of the Night under the rusted iron? 
A forlorn lady, black patent leather, kill a man, maybe two 
With her danger red symmetry, oozing with youth 
And a penchant for paralysis, no one can resist her wine

Then there's the hall of cob webs, threadbare handkerchiefs
Left by ladies who exhausted all of their company 
To be a spectacle under the moon, in the wood pile 
Dressed up in the finest furs, all earth tones 
Stepping out to introduce themselves in girlish droves 

Venus of another sort, these little cursed jezebels 
Hovering on the skin of the water, or on the red brick wall 
Must frequent every happy corner, and slip away at a moment's notice
A real lady always knows when to say goodnight
Such graceful exits through cement cracks
Back to the parlor, to glow in the dark 
And they become spiders again 

Copyright © Jeremy Martin | Year Posted 2013

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Known for miles around
As the Queen of Croissants
She’d perfected her art for years
But at what cost
More physically demanding than you might think
She gave the best years of her youth
Working at a small town bakery
The strain on her hands and body taking their toll
Owners had lucked out and they knew it
She loved her art and would have done it for free
Trying to produce the work of three
Never took a sick day in twenty-five years
Couldn’t have worked harder if the place had been her own
The owners were greedy, looking to save their own hide
Watched her toil while they leisurely went about their day
Went on vacations leaving her the keys 
Knowing all too well the place would run smoothly
Heaven forbid she would get a thank you
Or - bite your lip – a bonus

It seems freeloaders are always lucky
They find a giver that they can suck dry while the going is good
Luck or law of attraction?

Submitted in March, 2018

POEM OF THE DAY - March 5, 2018

Copyright © Line Gauthier | Year Posted 2018

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As I Plot Just One More Day

As I Plot Just One More Day

Desperate as the waking at blackest dawn
I seek only moments within eternity,
for the day upon me is long 
and I do not ponder its end

Forever that blackened door beckoned
in tones of promising delights
who can know what lies in its beyond
perhaps a cure for the world's pains
I walk halls leading to its hurts
echoes that resounded as if playing
with no malice, future screams at my hesitation
as I plot just one more day
as I hide my lusts just one more day

Decadent as the lust of gloomiest noon
I am immersed in the consummation
and overpowered in the contest, yet hopeful
that still I may embrace eternity's devious charm

Never ending cycles eat into a wanton soul
they are all too familiar
and their boredom becomes a chain
a rasp in my dying breath
I hear its rhythm and each echo speaks
O' that parade of desires hides deep within
as the dark expands its borders
as I plot just one more day
as I hide my lusts just one more day

Dire as the languishing at darkening dusk
I seek an eternity of moments
to sate my lust and quell my rage,
to forgive and to be forgiven

A Robert Lindley and Lawrence Sharp collaboration

Poetry Note- 
I am very pleased to have found a new and fantastic writing partner 
that presents fantastic free verse poetry in its top form. This our first collaboration was a true pleasure and great joy to create. We both found ourselves in tune, as we worked to present this dark free verse poetry, that depicts the darker side of this world, past wayward youthful experiences and a look at what even today our youth face in this unforgiving and to oft deceptive, corrupt and tempting world that rewards darkness, and giving in to wanton desires. 
The magnificent verses my writing partner contributed to the creation of this piece sincerely awe me-  as I am learning of the depths, beauty, great and high artistic value in creating and reading free verse poetry, Both my thanks and my appreciation come from a sincere and very appreciative heart. 

Copyright © Robert Lindley | Year Posted 2018

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Fall and
red yellowing 
leaves in the trees

an old man sitting 
on a bench
watches them 
and thinks of his youth

a youth 
sitting on a bench
looking into his iPhone
simulates the falling 
red yellowing leaves
and googles 
the future 
of trees

Copyright © RUDOLPH RINALDI | Year Posted 2014

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Out of the Sun

             in the sun 
              to long
 The skin became the bark of a tree
 the soul turning to brittle scars
 for uncaring worlds to see.
             my face
            is a pile of 
           old owl bones
sewn into banks of midnight creeks...
even the plump, over ripened ones 
no longer look at me...
but if their car was desert flat,
their oil grim reaper black
they'd paint a wormy, water colored  smile...
slide it through my barbed wired heart
so long as I could spin the jack...
so I spin it until their potholes turn to satin-
              in the sun
               to long
the mind has smoothed over 
like pebbles in Saturn rings..
a forgotten spice in the conversation of life
an hour later the word snuggles up to me

Tomorrow or forever( which ever comes first),
I'll stay wrapped inside
till my skin turns back to ivory
to an easter egg yesterday 
to a time of bouncing ball and spinning jack,
when the mind was a great silky nest...
the face a flowered meadow place 
where watercolors swirled all day, 
the heart worms kept at bay.

I'll stay hidden within the weeds, 
till the jewels of memories soothe 
every scar - every stripe,
the molten knots of cruelty,
till the sweetened fruit reclaims the tree.
until then only my curtains breathe...
       ...stayed in the sun 
              to long

Copyright © Anthony Slausen | Year Posted 2013

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My First Ball

As I walk through the doors of the hall,
I am swept off my feet by such flare.
When I think that tonight’s my first ball,
How I blush thinking thoughts I don’t dare.

Lovely music pours out of the room,
And my hips sway beneath my pink gown.
Mom’s eyes seek a potential bridegroom
Dad’s eyes stop, my swaying with a frown.

Ushered in the big room my eyes dance
As they rush over grandeur so bright
Chandeliers they brought over from France 
Fill the room bringing splendour and light

On the sidelines I can’t help but stare 
Pretty walls lined with roses and vines
Sweetest scents of Guerlains fills the air
As the ladies and gents sip their wines.

Fine madam’s gowns blend in with the walls
And the heavenly ceiling divine 
Pastel angels and blue waterfalls 
Someone begs me to dance just in time.

As we twirl on the dance floor I’m charmed
Looking into his eyes, I turn red
And I’m weak in this young man’s strong arms
Looking up angels spin round my head.

All too soon my first ball has to end
Sweetest dreams I shall cherish tonight
When I think of my newly found friend 
Just the thought of him brings such delight

Anapest Trimeter

Written by Brenda Meier-Hans 
Sponsor Isaiah Zerbst
Contest: Ballroom Delights 
1st place

Copyright © Brenda Meier-Hans | Year Posted 2014

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Life Is Like A Maypole

Spring bows to thrill of cayenne summer,    
dreams spiced in youthful glow come May.
Bright ribbons wake my bare feet’s slumber. 
Spring bows to thrill of cayenne summer!
Rainbow pleats dance, no clouds encumber 
my twirling limbs, life's weaved sashay. 
Spring bows to thrill of cayenne summer,
dreams spiced in youthful glow come May!

Spring sighs with age come broaching summer,
blue tears, red smiles ‘round pole in May.
Life's colors flow from gold to umber.  
Spring sighs with age come broaching summer! 
And shall I join wind’s lively number
or watch bright ribbons twist and play?
Spring sighs with age come broaching summer,
blue tears, red smiles ‘round pole in May!

written 2/5/15

Copyright © Rhonda Johnson-Saunders | Year Posted 2015

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Let Me Take You There

Silence is calling
Moonlight has fallen
As the breeze goes by unheard.
Bare-foot and smiling
Eagerly climbing
The green slopes of virgin youth
Leading to promised realms….

     Let me take you there
     So you’ll breathe the air of make-belief, 
     Riding on enchanted dreams
     Heading far away from reality.

     Let me take you there
     To the land of hopes and fantasy,
     Passing through the mist of time
     Treading on the verge of eternity.

Long dress unfolding
Bright eyes beholding
The low grass that softly moves.
Bare-foot and smiling
Eagerly climbing
The green slopes of virgin youth
Leading to promised realms….

     Let me take you there
     So you’ll breathe the air of make-belief, 
     Riding on enchanted dreams
     Heading far away from reality.

     Let me take you there
     To the land of hopes and fantasy,
     Passing through the mist of time
     Treading on the verge of eternity.


Contest: Any Poem#24  ~  April 2014
Sponsor: Poet Destroyer A
Placed: 2nd


Copyright © Paul Callus | Year Posted 2014

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Since First I Saw You

Since first I saw you, it was your eyes,
mesmerizing, your gaze transporting
me to a realm, not of fantasy, real,
where young men go when cupid’s
arrow takes root.

Since first I saw you, it was your lips,
captivating, holding me frozen 
in anticipation of our lips brushing
for the first time.

Since first I saw you, it was your voice,
a crescendo, light, invigorating, 
each word you speak intensifies 
my hearing, enveloping each
note, time ceases as I hang motionless
savoring, memorizing.

Since first I saw you, it was your hair,
long, flowing, gently rising above
your shoulders as a slight breeze
passes through sending waves
of your essence my way. 
The sun magnifying each strand, 
highlighting the minute
variances of invigorating color, 
creating a halo effect, a portrait of
your beauty forever imprinted.

Since first I saw you, It was you,
my love forever more for you,
only you.

Copyright © Mac McGovern | Year Posted 2010

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My Crazy Dream

My crazy dream is to begin again back when I ran breathless in fields of green, enchanted and well past the age of ten, yet back when my slate of life was still quite clean. Back when I ran breathless in fields of green, a woman child, and not so innocent, yet back when my life’s slate was still quite clean, crazier I’d be, never hesitant! A woman child, and not so innocent, sweeter than fiction I’d make each romance. Crazier I’d be, never hesitant. I’d jump then fall, and always I would dance. Sweeter than fiction I’d make each romance. My Superman I‘d know this time around! I’d jump then fall, and always I would dance. Much smarter now, I’d still be safe and sound. My superman I’d know this time around. At men more treacherous I now would scoff. Much smarter now, I would be safe and sound, and every woe - I’d simply shake it off! At men more treacherous I now would scoff. The lucky one, I’d see life through new eyes, And every woe - I’d simply shake it off. Inside my wildest dreams, I could be wise. The lucky one, I’d see life through new eyes. Everything has changed. I want to be inside my wildest dreams! I could be wise - yet back when starlight still shone bright for me! Everything has changed. I want to be enchanted and well past the age of ten, yet back when starlight still shone bright for me. My crazy dream is to begin again! Written May 30, 2016 for the Musical Pantoum Contest of Silent One
At least one Taylor Swift song title used per line and verse (each line is repeated) L1 V1 and L4 V8: Begin Again L2 V1 and L1 V2: Breathless L3 V1 and L2 V8: Enchanted L4 V1 and L3 V2: Clean L2 V2 and L1 V3: Innocent L4 V2 and L3 V3: Crazier L2 V3 and L1 V4: Sweeter than Fiction L4 V3 and L3 V4: Jump Then Fall L2 V4 and L1 V5: Superman L4 V4 and L3 V5: Safe and Sound L2 V5 and L1 V6: Treacherous L4 V5 and L3 V6: Shake It Off L2 V6 and L1 V7: The Lucky One L4 V6 and L3 V7: Wildest Dreams L2 V7 and L1 V8: Everything Has Changed L4 V7 and L3 V8: Starlight

Copyright © Andrea Dietrich | Year Posted 2016

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Onset of puberty


Strong became the want to see female flesh,
an unclothed figure for a hand to rest,
with fingers to feel and further refresh,
and touch the softness of a firm breast.
The soft fair skin of a wholesome bosom,
the jutting excitement of a nipple
like a rosy-pink flower in blossom,
to enhance the lust though not as ample.
Childhood games changed to teenage desire,
as began the young boys change to manhood.
So too began a young heart to acquire
more meaning, depth for which love’s sharing stood.

A search began to find true love to share,
lovingness, of feelings beyond compare.

T.J Grén

Copyright © Teppo Gren | Year Posted 2015

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You my love
Are perfect
You my love
Know how to make me wiggle
Moan, scream into silence
Arch my back and contort
Like I never knew I could
You my love leave me breathless
Speechless, thoughtless
Without capability to comprehend
Anything other than your touch
You my love are a master magician
An understanding lover with navigating hands

Copyright © Jay Loveless | Year Posted 2013

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I cling to reveries of youth, the tender Sentiment of plucking words from summers' root, That in my journal hours when the red skies Are aglow, the phrases extend long as Straw. I burn language the way one does in A flamed trance swerving in pure daze beneath New moon, a blur of pencilled happenstance Flapping like a winged feather that on the River of late afternoons, I would still Scribble in a hay, where syllables grow on racy tunes. And I then could not help Myself but drown my hands in raw and humid lines, bury my eyes deep in verses’ fanned. I'm loathe to leave my untamed story as Twilight fades; letters drip and clouds see blown paper sailing like inked fingertips. Your Journey Contest of Michael Falotico

Copyright © nette onclaud | Year Posted 2013

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Afloat On a Lavender Sea

Decades stretched a cord, across years, up the stairs, and around chairs coiling beyond the door of one small room, groomed by the sun, of a Saturday afternoon... I am floating on a sea of a hardwood floor Prone, on my back, upon a lavender rug Examining the nail of my left hand thumb with a phone at my ear, a smile on my face while you've glady expressed, how you've aced an exam I confess how I've missed holding your hand only linked to your kiss, by a small ivory phone With a ring on my finger, to bind young love Blinded in the eyes, from an innocent throne Invitations in the mail, and a church on hold There was a cake on order, and a brand new world You were glued to my ear, I was wrapped by a cord that tugged on the wall, with long-distance words Light from the yard is scored by the blinds but, there on the floor, prone on my back, I'm bound by the cord that tethered our lives Linked to your voice, where a future was wound Hovering over the sea of cold hardwood, I had a pillow of shag, of that lavender rug The days would stretch shorter and our vows, on hold till the cord became stronger, watching years unfold

Copyright © Carrie Richards | Year Posted 2013

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A Midsummer Night's Beach

When I was a girl, still on the island
I’d sit in the sand
and brood
and revel
in what I thought was utter enlightenment
a teenage rebel
with dime-store refinement
We were all this way, and there is no shame
In the unchecked mind of us in our prime
The best nights of those
When the sea was calm and
The moon was out and
Blazingly bright, it would light up the night
Set the whole ocean glowing
Like a deep inky opal
Translucent abyss of black
Lightly flecked
With an iridescent waltz of electric blue, neon purple, alien green, and diamond white
It was on these nights
That I’d get in the water

By some stunning feat of abrasive wave action
Or possibly some secret dolphin magic
A tide pool would arise
A lagoon off the shore
Drifting and shifting over the course
Of a week, maybe two
Drifting out, drifting in
Widening out, slimming in
Shallow enough to sit in at dawn
Submerged to my neck at the day’s final yawn
Defiant of the perpetuity of the ocean at large
A toy trench off the shore
Spanning the length of a whale
Sometimes less, sometimes more
My own nascent Marianas
Never failed to provide
An off-shore haven where I could reside
These transient channels, clear and serene
Cut off from the rest of the sea
By a vast steppe of water, ankle deep
Separating me in my watery kingdom
Where no monstrous creature of the deep could reach
Out and out that plain stretched
(Only once did I test it)
Till that clean sandy bottom would begin its descent
Slowly at first, then quickly it went
Down to the unknown dark

Into a child queen of a tiny sea world, I’d transform
Springing up from the bottom of pulverized quartz
To shatter the surface between the water and the night
Send millions upon millions of droplets of brine
Glittering and spinning off into the night
I’d leap out my trench, onto that shallow plain
Sprint out to the edge of my earth and breathlessly gaze
out over the hidden deep
Reminded I’m only a guest
The ocean is neither mine nor yours to keep
Having drunk my fill of humility
I’d spin round
Fly back
Dive back down
Into my fleeting empire, my sea of tranquility
My throne resumed, I’d splash and play
With the smile of the summer Milky Way
Shooting out of the ocean, slicing the southern sky
The universe itself keeping a loving and watchful eye
As the earth showed me exactly who she was
No pretense
I’d dig my fingers into the satiny sand
And feel its realness
Every cell of my skin feeling the water rush across
As I coasted, submerged, along the bottom and lost
Myself from the rest of mankind
Then I’d rest my head back on that broad sandy mesa
Gaze up at my friends Scorpius, Aquarius, and Cassieopiea
Small ripples of water lapping at my temples

Barring defense of Descartes’ deceiving God
Not a thing in all the world could ever make me doubt
That every sensation that I felt
in those days
Was a whisper from the cosmos telling me about
The ways to be and
The ways to see and
All the states of mind that reveal
What is good, and true, and right, and real

Copyright © Carolyn Fish | Year Posted 2017

Details | Youth Poem | Create an image from this poem.

With Hot Flames Lapping In Savory Fires

With Hot Flames Lapping In Savory Fires

Our worlds were flying so close, side by side
yours in beauty , mine in very deep pain.
Fate, that life painter, caused our great collide
we victims, blessed in our loving gain.

Stars fell apart , crashing of burning sun,
super nova lit our swelling desires.
Our long sweet ride that moment had begun,
hot flames lapping in savory fires.

Your eyes drew me into another dream
your voice angels begged to imitate.
Each touch, my body burning hot steam
nights our senses entered another state.

As time sealed our union in sweetest bliss
memories thus born, gave our love its shine.
Your all , put into every blessed kiss
and you dear heart forever to be mine.

Each morn, sends me into another dream,
the sight of your naked body in bed.
Always enough, to swim there in your stream,
paradise floating in my grateful head.

Poem Syllable Counter Results
Syllables Per Line:
10 10 10 10 0 10 10 10 10 0 10 10 10 10 0 10 10 10 10 0 10 10 10 10
Total # Syllables: 200
Total # Lines: 24 (Including empty lines)
Words with (syllables) counted programmatically:
Total # Words: 148

Robert J. Lindley, 4-17-2016

Written for Teppo's contest.. 
WRITTEN TO THIRD SONG. Speak Softly Love-- by Andy Williams,

Copyright © Robert Lindley | Year Posted 2016