Beauty Exotic Poems | Examples
These Beauty Exotic poems are examples of Exotic poems about Beauty. These are the best examples of Exotic Beauty poems written by international poets.
Upon the shore,
The exotic moonlight,
Has kissed,
from the oceanic sky,
The moonlight,
Like,
The lavendar,
Dress of irises,
Shimmering,
Upon each wave,
Undulating,
Like,
Sparkling diamonds,
A nightingale,
Lights,
With its warm sighs,
And hymns,
The candle of the moon,
The lakes,
Are fountains,
glistening,
With starry flowers.
Reynaldo Casison
Upon evening and exotic shores,
I feel the mist of your hair,
Your hips,
Of the sweetest crescents,
Dance like a ballerina,
With an irises love,
And its blush of lavendars,
Serenading vases and gardens,
Your accents of honey,
Born of the enchanted waves,
Caresses the soul,
With loving midnights,
And tender noons,
The evening sways,
With lovely,
and solacing bouquets,
Its mango sighs,
Strewn along the petalled vistas
Reynaldo Casison
Gypsy skirt,
Upon her exotic hips,
That embraces,
Her painterly,
silhouette,
To carefreely flow,
In the winds of her salsa,
Beauty,,
And caress her rhythms,
From firm sunset gallops,
to sweet repose,
From what shore,
Did she gather your flowers,
Surreal honey,
Her hips are so comfy,
and cozy,
In your loving fibers,
And adept garden waves,
As her hem dreams,
Its flowers,
To dance with her,
Crescendos,
And gaze of her sighs,
Gypsy skirt,
upon her exotic hips,
And dancer thighs,
And the margarita moon dips,
With your duet,
With her honey hair,
Sweet and kind,
As salsa evenings
Reynaldo Casison
Her exotic brunnette hair,
Flows,
With her long gypsy,
Skirt,
Emblazoned,
With surreal flowers,
As she sashays,
Through the beaded,
Light,
To the sweet chimes,
To relax,
Carefree,
Upon the rose velvet couch
Reynaldo Casison
TV used to make laundromats feel exciting in their ads
For those of you who have never been, you may be fooled.
For those of us who have, we know better.
You do not wear high heels, a dress, and pearls.
You do not dance and sing around the dryers.
There are crying children everywhere, and angry mothers.
People are impolite and rude before they leave
Everyone is tired, and their backs are breaking.
The laundry mat is not a place to go to relax.
You cannot read there. The machines are too loud.
There is a change machine, but it is usually out of coins.
Especially on Saturday morning, when everyone is there.
You try to choose a time when no one is there.
Good luck, it cannot be done.
If you have to sell your children to buy your own washer, do it.
Margarite has hot tamale sauce swarming in her veins.
She was not organized, tidy, accurate or neat,
The bartender hired her during the monsoon rains
Because her beauty and sassiness brought in men off the street.
She danced like a goddess from another country or time
Otherworldly and exotic she brought in an appreciative crowd
The bartender knew that men would spend their last dime
To see a barista this beautiful, charismatic, sassy and loud.
F--- Fabulous
L-- -Lovable
O---Ornaments
W---Weaving
E--- Enthusiastically
R-- -Rapturous
S- --Spring!
© Demetrios Trifiatis
09 April 2021
Who is this person who can coax
the ordinary into magical so easily?
A grey, depressing winter's sky becomes
"a coverlet of lilac gossamer."
Are poets born with exotic words already
whispered in their ears? Are these words
their native language? Or, do they speak
them to lift us when our spirits stumble?
Perhaps poets are visitors from a distant
planet, finding our's too harsh to hear
the heartbeat of a beautiful phrase. Or,
could they be Nature's attempt to save us?
Their minds must be linked to the stars,
hearts following the songs of sirens.
Listening closely, they hear voices unheard
by us: Mother Earth's lullabies to her children.
Altho gentle, they somehow find the courage
to open their hearts, share their dreams.
They know some may scoff, not recognizing
the beauty hiding in the everyday mundane.
I believe poets are treasure hunters seeking
those hidden places where others never thought
of looking, writing words we never imagined.
Perhaps, deep within our hearts, a poem
is waiting.
In fragrance night, she hula dances slowly,
After the spectral sun has gone down lowly.
She sways to the motions of the palm trees,
And so appears to be dancing with the breeze!
Like a mermaid swimming in the endless sea,
She carelessly rides sparkling waves easily.
A wild exotic bloom, the island is her home,
And sun rises in tinged glory, above sea foam.
She knows the language of wild carefree days,
Covered in the rich beauty of sunshine haze,
And of the inky nights, encrusted with stars,
And paleness of moonlight, with red, red Mars.
Unearthly exotic beauty
Surely meant for deity
Known as crane flowers to some
Most exquisite curiosity bar none
Audacious hues of orange and blue
Divine perfection powerless to construe
Its fanlike display of utter magnificence
Gives way to engage in amorous poetic license
To you my love no other flower will do
You are my paradise my heart flies home to you
AP: Honorable Mention 2020, Honorable Mention 2021
Submitted on May 30, 2019 for STANDARD CONTEST 400 sponsored by BRIAN STRAND - HONORABLE MENTION
Originally posted on February 20, 2019
In an exotic country of bursting colour
A paradise for majestic and exquisite birds
Shameless poachers and traffickers
Conduct unspeakable injustices
Conjuring a movement of resistance
From a tireless passionate activist group
On the hunt for wildlife held in captivity
Clever brave and stealth taking action
Aiming to unshackle and set the innocent free
With their echoing liberating mantra
There’s no such thing as ‘exotic pets’
Suffice their ransom to see feral birds fly away
Exalting in their newfound freedom
All the wiser and never to be seen again
Submitted on January 11, 2021 for contest PODIUM PLACING PROMISE (6) sponsored by BRIAN STRAND - RANKED 2ND
and July 31, 2018 for FERAL POETRY CONTEST sponsored by ANTHONY SLAUSEN
Shimmering beautiful crisp pure waters;
So inviting I can see the bottom just. . .
Leaves of the palm trees wave and invite me;
to the place where I wished that I could
live
Exotic
beautiful place like to heaven
Where God is?
So wonderful are the mountains;
And glorious is the fountains;
that flow, flow, flowing waters;
Peace and hollow...
there is no sadness there;
Birds of heaven living here;
And the beauty of the crisp cool breeze;
Reminds me of an early morning;
to this place where I wanna be I could live
Exotic
Living the luxury;
I am reminded that God made these
beautiful, beautiful places for you, for me;
Oh! those pretty, beautiful flowers;
YOU can smell the aroma for hours on hours
The lavender breeze just invited me;
To believe in the environment;
So when I close my eyes
I awaken so mesmerized in awe, my surroundings
Exotic
written by James Edward Lee Sr.
June 27 2017 (c)2017
rainbows pooling in the ocean
surrounded by warm embrace of mollusk
i am beautiful,
i am glorious
again and again
touch me gentle
feel me,
exotic desire
Like an oyster
find me a pearl
Exotic, Oriental, Beauty
She has been my cup of tea !
Sweet as honey, this she be !
Times have become translucent.
Hard to feel the essence of her sent.
Sunday - taking her to a silver bird.
Across the ocean – Beijing I heard.
Five times, I have taken her to leave.
Five times, I came back to retrieve.
During five years, we still communicate.
Getting back together – not to be my fate.
She will be my last cup of tea.
She will be the last love I will see.
Like the essence of translucent time.
It is easy to see through my rhyme.
B. J. “A” 2
August 19th 2015
Exotic Lands
by Lori Maria Walton
The day,
nurtured in the belly of a
fearless night
turns and is finally born
clinging to the soft arms of a
pretty morning
The sun, dozing on the
heavy chest of exotic lands,
rolls
and is now awakened,
plowing a submissive face
with golden hands
Play the bagpipes,
while the tea and the toast and
freshly squeezed orange juice
seated spellbound
wait anxiously for the first touch
of honey lips
This day, as the morning
waits on the table for the first
touch of honey
hands and golden lips prepare
to explore the shores of life
Blended melodies ring
in attentive hollows
beneath the sea of passion