Inclines Poems | Examples

as Walt Whitman

If you don’t take your time,
If you never slow down the step by walking,
You’ll never see the sun
Lay his gold leaves on the tops of trees,
You won’t pay attention to the fox
Conversing with two horses in a field,

If you never slow down,
You’ll never know if a girl thinks of you,
You will never feel the dew
which inclines the daffodils and harmonious petals
you will crush the innocent snail on the purple road,

If you don’t take your time,
If you never slow down the step, while walking,
You will never see the fishing sloop working at sea
You will not hear the merle in the fig tree
Sketch twelve notes of a baroque cantata,

and worst of all, if you don’t slow down the pace,
You will never write poetry,
You will never fall in love with the countryside,
With the sea or pretty girls with breasts of pottery,
You will never become as smart as Walt Whitman.

Loyal And Devoted Love

Stars, fiddling serenades of robins’ tweet,
Absorb tired thoughts to drift like a song 
As dulcet air from  of window weaves a hum
Blending with the melody of celestial sparks.

Then, like an open flight,her  heart inclines
To slide on hours cuddled by gasps of ardor---
While his love-light whispers” Hush, my dear
Sleep tight as lashes drop;  Dream with me,

Play our song to the tune of warm chorus.”
And the world passes by in a quiet tunnel,
Where morn holds starlight's devoted keep.

Threads of Enchantment

Her Impression imprints and invites
Delightfully smiles
Seductively replies
Her reflection reflects that night
Aspiration desires to be right
Whether the notion seems a bit bright
Souls reunite and excite
Sprinkle the sparkles and penlight
Strangers strike
And rewrite what’s inside
Devotion defines
Inclination inclines
When coherence collides
And faith decides
Emotions swiftly guide
Her Impression imprints and invites
Wondrously Wonders
Mystically twists
Gloomy shadow fades away
And her brightness circulates and portray
Thoughts replay
Imagines convey
Her Impression imprints and invites
She survives and is alive
Thrust of hope will describe
Beauty designs
Emotion divines
Her Impression imprints and invites.

Of Hand and Heart

I marvel at the workings of the human hand
To touch and hold, shape and mold they 
Lead and teach, work and scold from infancy
Till death they fold.

I ponder too, the power of the human heart
To touch and hold, shape and mold it
Leads and teaches, draws and reaches
Forever into lives it seasons.

The hand and heart are intertwined
Refined and kind or rough and blind
To lift or wound, build or swoon
The hand applies as the heart inclines.

So know, that when I hold your hand
You’re holding my heart as well.
With every squeeze my hand applies
My heart is pounding: “Joy!” inside.

Moonlight Whitewash Minichu

The moon inclines in the trees
To walk her dreams against the boughs,
A fade on her full body's beams

Where the leaves wiggle in gold—
Now with miffed sky's dizzying slight;
Then jumble on craters, silver mold

Different eyes
Long fright
Nights

The moon inclines in the trees—
Now with miffed sky's dizzying slight,
Nights

Ship of Fools

Without a word we get aboard 
New lease of life I have to hold
You didn’t tell, but it’s okay 
I knew the schedule for today
We’ve got a lot of alco stuff
And dainty food, more than enough 
A few musicians, one plays flute
Three others doing strings and lute 
Monk is the captain, he’s so nice
He leads the ship by throwing dice
The boatswain’s drunk, rest of the crew
Aren't sure what they ought to do
Nuns play canasta, drinking wine
A beggar prays for sun to shine
Some folks are gazing at the skies
As if they’re taken by surprise
Perhaps they got fed up with sea
Waves sway around you and me
You turn to me your face, so pale:
“We won’t be swallowed by the whale,
I hope, what do you think of this?”
- “I think to get another kiss"
This plot unfolds by its own rules
We're hanging out on ship of fools
There is no course this ship must do
There is no purpose, but a view
Of endless waves up to the line
Horizon darkens, then inclines
Then our ship soars up and glides
Down to the bottomless white skies
And there we go, towards the land
Which doesn’t look like golden sand..

Doing What I Love - Mixed

When I was little, before I started school,
my dream was to be a professional dancer
for I knew I had that natural talent instilled
in me, talent that was not taken seriously.

The magic, beauty of dance stayed in me.
Although, I never had any dance lessons,
I was always selected to perform at my
schools, recitals and community events. 

Life took over and as I navigated the many
twists, turns, inclines and descents of my life,
like a roller coaster, it became loud and clear
I was not meant to be a professional dancer.

My burning desire to dance flickered, as it
was put on the back burner for many years. 
It was set on fire after I retired and started
dance lessons and living the time of my life.

It has been six years since I have been doing what
I love, dancing to express the beauty of dance in
my feelings, grace, agility, moves that the people
around me watch and feel the liveliness within me.
Yes, they come and tell me ….

Pain

A hit at an object; a fast pin pierce; a cut; blood-shed
All these cross my flesh and nerves and give me unpleasant signs.
Though a part is hurt, throughout the physique, the news is said.
Every cell, nerve, flesh, and skin inclines to a benign pine

The pain in the body is bearable. Ache of the heart!
Persists, as though endlessly long, even for many years.
Illness, death, loss, failures, and divorce that make spouses part
Lack of cheers and unending fears that cause eternal tears

Existence turns into an absurdity; joy ceases.
Fear, loneliness, and uncertainty sing like scorpions.
Though yearning to face the grave, patience with death increases.
The earth turns hell; Is the environs a penal region?

Optimism, yet, succeeds in finding countless gains in pain.
Isn't existence all about changing pain into gain...?

A Soul Is Divine

Real Self; innermost essence; true consciousness;
Part of the being that partakes of divinity; bottomless; 
survives the death of the material physique,
Continuing its existence even after death makes it weak;
Placed within beings by the very almighty,
Like the flowerness of a flower or the sweetness of honey;
It's the breath; it’s the life; it's an eternal entity;
Conscience and consciousness; it's a form of divinity;
It's one of those in the heavens and earth,
The reality that inclines into our physical birth;
The atma that is part of the param atma,
It's heavenly, angelic, celestial, ethereal,
Sacred, blessed, holy, and supernatural;
It's with this that we live and have our being,
And enjoy our earthly, till from here, fleeing...!!!

28 June 2023
A Soul is Divine Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Mohan Chutani

Baxter Street Monday

Anti-Poem — “Baxter Street Monday”

me trudging walking
gripping onward forward 
traipsing baxter street monday 
and its steep inclines
going up like a dizzy sparrow
passing vertical merry go rounds 
the sly moulin rouge turnabouts 
that sip spit with maraschino endives 
scanning thighs ripe with hard-ons
the stoner pink boys 
lost in rainbow cul-de-sacs
lost amidst the traffic tirades
the propelling grind of accelerators 
up up and onward everlasting
floating hovering over shy ascensions 
in ravenous echo park 
me scratching grinding like steel death
holding tight the skin wheel
trudging baxter street monday
the morning reality suspensions 
the daily cyclotron of kidney exertions
of ascending footsteps moving skinward 
now racing down baxter street monday
descending and plummeting 
passing vertical merry go rounds 
the sly moulin rouge turnabouts
i see my sista rosa gonzalez
she be screaming down with wet wings
sending love bouquets to my los angeles

I Recall Your Face

I've started being able to recall your face
Which isn't always the case with me.
I've been known to fail to recognise
Someone I've chatted to for hours!

But my fingers feel again the texture of your skin
Your eyes startle me with sudden blueness
And the straight-lined mouth unfolds
To make me also smile. 

Your head inclines; does it really 
Mean that I have touched you?

Crpc 164

Q.1.Do you know where are you standing?
Ans.Yes,I am appearing in court.
Q.2.Do you understand that you are not
bound to make a statement 164 of Cr.Pc?
Ans.Yes.
Q.3.Do you understand that your statement is 
being recorded by a magistrate and that If you
do record,it may be used as evidence against
You?
Ans.Yes.
Q.4.Are you under any kind of pressure or coercion?
Ans.No
Q.5.Understanding these facts,are you making statement
Voluntarily?
Ans.Yes.
Q.6.Why do you incline to record your statement?
Ans.I want to explain real facts.
Note.From the answers of above questions,it is believed 
that Mr XYZ is not under any duress and inclines to record 
his statement with his free volition.So, his statement is
Recorded..

God and Gods

Who on God reclines
Worldly offers declines:
To the scripture inclines
Noting the sharp lines 
Between Gods and gods;
Though both sides wield rods;
From worshipers nods:
The latter mere pods,
Things to smoke like cods
Or just kick with leg
And refuse to beg...

Who an God reclines
Only dines and wines
From Lord God's rich mines...

This, forever, signs

Mountain of Love

Those times have come and gone repeatedly,
    Where my search was looking for love.
While this journey often took me to a steep
    Slope, and I needed a helping shove.

This only proved what I had been told before,
    That a lot of work was needed to pursue.
Yet my lack of experience was on full display ...
    I was hiking blind without a clue.

The landscape was unfamiliar, becoming
    Treacherous around inclines, to slip & fall.
Knowing that I could easily turn back & survive,
    Or continue in a slow-motion crawl.

These climbs have caused me to reach higher,
    To greater altitudes where the air is thin.
Realizing that even as my breath is taken away,
    The pinnacle has a view to love again.

Cave of Wonders

Cave of wonders,
Caverns so deep,
Through vast rooms I wander,
So many secrets to keep.

The path tightens,
The corridors weave,
Mysterious sounds frighten,
Seeing the magic others see,

Deeper down I go
To unknown steps below,
Exploring further and anyone’s been,
There seems to be no end.

Stalactites hang from above,
Their beauty alone is enough,
Walls covered in draperies,
Millions of years of Earth’s memories.

Deep pools of blue
With emerald green hues,
Waters untouched by any hand,
Stoney beaches with no sand.

Crystals form almost uniform,
Where many cave creatures are born,
Flowing walls made of stone,
Beautiful formations have grown.


With my lantern I decide not to go deeper,
As I stand at in the doorway
I feel like a gatekeeper.
I wish it was forever that I could stay.,
But now home is where I must make my way.

Climbing up inclines so tall,
I tread carefully as not to fall,
Emerging from the depths
I take several deep breaths,
I make my way to the surface,
The thought of leaving makes me nervous.

As I stand at the cave’s entrance
I nod my head,
Until next time
My good friend.

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