Impearled Poems | Examples

Love Me Like I Am Spills Of Flowers

 
Spills of flowers everywhere - elation !  
I love to water each petal with joy 
Bells and Daisies * Tulips and Carnations 
I am a gardener named Helen of Troy 

Garland dreams loopy Dahlia ali oops
"love me like I am" says each bud to me 
Blooming kisses and rosettes,  Tipsy Red  
they are  my yellows just like bumblebees   

Cascades of waterfall blossoms, dot . net 
impearled in my heart - adorneth and loved. 
Each floralette is like a classical fret
diminished by none, a flare up en-gloved 

Whimsical gardens  ***      florescent tandems 
I'm an anthem of glory...  a willful mayhem!

Colors of Love

 
Bursting shades of fire ember sweet desire 
an Orange Jubilee, bathing in the sun   
Wild charmed poppies, blushing  sunsets 
paprika colored dahlias blowing in the wind;
Nostalgic golden lights of evening twilight 
resplendent in vivid splashes of yellow 
Brass dreams tinted with soul's aspire,  
a wedding band of love that's timeless, old.  
Tinctures of diamond hues of sapphire 
indigo skies of teal, a planetary cosmic,  
infinite as the heavens that filled the stars *
Blue corn moments of sweetness,  
the artist's palette shimmers with light 
Starry Starry Night, twirling gazes 
barely grazing, each color begins to bleed  
beneath the morning fields of amber gray
Overlaid in silver the graying tones of life 
muted to perfection, a priceless heirloom. 
Impearled rosary beads, fingers turn    
the sterling breaths of love begin anew.  
Paint not in shades that don't belong to you  
for even God alone could not replace the hue,    
create the perfect shade in you, dear one  
and don't forget to be the best that you can be.

Confessions Of A Woman Young At Heart

This was inspired by: Mike Gentile 
His poem is entitled : Confessions Of A Youngster, At Heart

Whoever thought one day I'd let my hair go gray and walk with a sway 
"They are only laughter lines" I told myself, disregarding a wrinkle in time. 
I promised to be one of those ladies who would look suave at sixty five,   
but when you see me walk down the isle, I cannot hide that lombar slide. 
I will wear dresses of fresh linen with only leather belts that buckle, 
and when my shaky hands refuse to still, I'll blame it on my knuckles ! 
When I looked into the mirror then,... all I saw was a pretty girl,  
but now I see two kindly eyes and a memory impearled  !   
I rise at 6 and retire at 9, I sleep on my side for the one I adore,     
lovie says that when I snore, it sounds like a lion's roar ! 
I am happy with my life,  
and although I lose my train of thought sometimes,
I still wake up every morning feeling grateful, 
that I am still able to dress, to the nines...

The Self

As living light, we’re complete,
cognisant of our heartbeat,
as awareness self-aware
but save us, there’s no one there.

Ego having come undone,
there’s nothing here to be done,
for having turned a new leaf,
we’re in ineffable peace.

No fears or desires touch us.
We are as we are, sans fuss.
We may say, this is heaven,
our true Self, in its haven.

Self renews life in itself,
distanced from ego non-self,
that’s in but not of the world,
throbbing light, in it impearled.

Light of Self glows in our heart,
known if we add love to cart,
recognising all are one,
essence of the central sun.

My Tree

"Like branches of a rooted, sturdy tree 
     a family survives, each limb entwined."
                                             __by Poet 

                        
                        Huge fragmented spaces fill my mind
            and heart with unbalances that sadden my world-
for as I gaze upon those branches- I now find
the truth they show, as time passed by has unfurled.

                        The fruit upon this old tree-
one time was sweet and lush as it could be;
but, forever staying firm as such- is not a guarantee.

      Oh, family tree, when I was young, we'd all share
            thriving on these varied branches- bound with care;
                        now just your names are there.

Your beings- once whole with life- rest in death confined.
            Now fragmented spaces full of memories I do keep impearled.
      Extended family, long ago, loved me-
                        Grandparents, parents, uncles, aunts; my love- still declare.


July 14, 2021

~1st Place~
Contest: Writing Prompt - Fragmented Spaces
Sponsor: Constance La France
Jusfws: 08/13/2021

Fairy Magic

a pixie dust allusion on fairy wing profusion 
a cranberry wreath on a child of bequeath 

a touch of grace on a deer soft as lace
a lantern slow beam on a forest gleam 

in a world of gilded fantasy, we are poetry 
in a world of innocent dreams their coterie 

in a fairy world of love we are impearled 
in a moment of creative enfold we're gold

an incandescent light at the end of a forest 
one touch of mercy and suddenly we're blest.

Flat Earth Or Not

It is not the ever sustaining heart of earth in which to confide,
for it brings forward all that is given into simple trust decide.
It is the soul of heaven which is the only trust and guaranteeing, 
for it assimilates all in its own individual being.
To believe or not is the choice and freewill,
happiness is its own spirit being, seeking for itself to still. 
Arguing and trying to prove the logic mysteries,
knowledge by ignorance claimed throughout histories.
Those who trying to prove their belief is superior,
to the faith of another does not know the ultimate ulterior.
Beliefs are part of freewill and in its perfection turns to faith,
great teachers and seers write about that aid.
The right to know the truth in the affairs of this world,
fighting for ever not seeing the total of life impearled.
The supreme existing law is that all is just and right,
not that one can proclaim it, but only to be understood to all might.
It is not evidence which gives belief,
it is all that above evidence is the true relief.
Culminating into the sustenance of spirit,
and nothing is anymore to fear it.

The Fantasy

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cmLsbatEo_w&t=27s

Quote by: Victor Buhagiar 
Free your mind of old chains, fetch me all nine muses focus on fairies, elves and pixies, 
find me my potions, fiction must reign here. 


The leaves open their hands widely and tiny little fairies float out 
full of shimmer and grace 
Give them milk  and honey cakes then watch them shine like a silver moon,   
with a nascent happy face  
Little elves no bigger then my thumb, with keen sense of smell and hearing
frolicking about  
Leaping and bouncing with joy while the forest hums, impearled with magic 
and clout 
Pixies so small no higher then the human knee, aqua droplets
spritely dismembering aglow 
like opulent diamonds in the snow,  they glitter and leave happiness 
wherever they go 
Free your mind of old ways and join the newbies of the magical forest of old 
watch the harmonica sky ripple a tune out for leaves all etched in gold 
Fetch me my potions , fiction must reign here , 
in the Kingdom of  Tublerose-bellaseer

July 19, 2020

Reasoning the Dust of Time

Time to understand and learn
by changes that not return.
Applicable and unforeseen
remembrance of what have been.
Giving the selfish shadow a rest
and nourish an ethical best.
The force of life the gift to care,
replace that machine what keeps you stare.
Time to return to a sacred glance,
taking the leading role in the living dance.
Enrich those smiles as long as you can,
with tears of joy where it all began.
The waters of integrity carry every reach
while the waves of  false hope dissolve at the beach.
Time and all one can give so silently,
living stardust  by the future to see.
Then by natures law in splendor swore,
this sacred dust carries on and nothing more.
When in doubt in all that gaze,
to remember a rainbow in that haze.
The individual light is the myriad of a struggled world,
where the great soul knows to dwell impearled.

Lines Impearled

Is a poem ever really done,
can the last word not begin

The Angels voting lines impearled
each phrase into a hymn

Is a poem ever given back,
to whom the words behold

Each letter turned into a string
—a harp of heaven’s gold 

(Dreamsleep: March, 2020)

The Challenge

The Challenge
Written: by Miracle Man
1/20/2019

Persuing Jesus
 has made my life fulfilling,
By accepting HIM,
 with grace, I'm impearled.
But many are lost
and remain unwilling,
To live a righteous life
in a wicked world.



John 14:6 King James Version (KJV)
6 Jesus saith unto him, I am the way, the truth, and the life:
 no man cometh unto the Father, but by me.

Thanks For Lighting Up My Dark World

I can still remember the innocence of your face,
Cupped by your hair like soft strands of lace,
And those little pink fingers gently curled,
Thanks for lighting up my dark world.

That twinkle of happiness in your eyes,
As you saw my face after your loud cries,
Those tiny drops of tears like glittering pearls,
Thanks for lighting up my dark world.

I remember those long & sleepless nights,
When putting you to sleep was a constant fight,
How I loved to see you drift into a dreamworld,
Thanks for lighting up my dark world.

How I loved to see you grow old each day,
Touching other’s lives in your own special way,
While your own little world around me swirled,
Thanks for lighting up my dark world.

The day you took your first baby step,
How I swelled with pride with every footstep,
I danced, I jumped with happiness I swirled, 
Thanks for lighting up my dark world.

With each passing day you are growing old,
Filling up my life with memories to forever hold,
Golden memories with your presence impearled,
Thanks for lighting up my dark world.

Dated: 16/8/18

The Anonymous Angel

I don't know
Who was it
But it is definite
I got the rainbow

At a forgotten point of time
It was placed
A flower vase finely laced
The vine leaves climb

Very often in the sleep
During the REM phase
Shows up the lace
The pink relief

I wake up naturally with
The water lily in my psych
The morning I so much like
The words of clarity and pith

The glistening bone china
Not just solo
The aroma of aloe
And the little myna

I am sure some angel
When I was a child
With her hands lotus mild
Had given the flowers of the apples

It may be my mother
Or someone else
All my ice melts
In the dream stir

In the complex world
The survival wouldn’t be possible
Without the seagull
From the gift impearled

The decorated vessel
Returns over and over
Forever the lover
A hundred boats sail

The sail of affection
the winds of love
The clouds of fluff
The rhododendrons
________________________

April 14, 2018
Anonymous Angels - Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Yazmin Malik

Chalice of Ambrosial Dreams

Bespangled 
she sashays up the shore 
from a sequin gowned sea
wearing the undulating waves
of aquamarine and ambrosial sheen
adorned with shimmering and shivering seeds of excitement 

A thousand beaded fingertips
trace her coral curves
whispering sweet nothings
in the luscious language of brine and blue
drizzling down 
her sea-salted soul-case
teasing and tempting
her cooled honeyed patina
to passionately impearled pertness 

Enraptured as he is
enticed by her dreamscape 
the yearning senescent sands sigh~
longing for relics of rose-water regrets.


Susan Ashley
February 8, 2017


~ Fourth Place ~
Premiere Contest: #400
Sponsor: Brian Strand

Human Hands

Beautiful pink flowers with petals of rose
Blown by the icy wind into a delicate pose.

Untouched by small or large human hands,
A field of blossoms spread across the land.

Nature’s presence so perfectly impearled
In this violence, stolen from a dream world.

It’s far too difficult for our flawed hearts to cease
Their mutterings if we leave the scene in peace.

The soft gentle petals curl up into a ball,
Withering brown, crunching up and fall.

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