Long Blue eyes Poems

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Premium Member No Adult About It For Adult Contest

All my life I've been a grown up
Missing out on being a happy pup
Responsibilities beyond my years
Tired from wiping away other's tears

So now I embrace my sillier side
With my inner child I choose to confide
I've found him to be the best part of me
With his big blue eyes I can clearly see

Now I search for happy in other's eyes
laughing adult children are truly wise
For in the end we have no one to blame
If we choose boring and a life that's tame

Choose serious or embrace inner child
Try being mixed up and just a bit wild
Don't let yourself take the magic away
Learn about yourself by learning to play!



Thanks F.J. for causing me to contemplate!

"The True Meaning of Being an Adult"Contest.

Written April 25th 2015.
Form: Couplet


Premium Member I Live With a Ghost

 
The first time I met Paul it was true love,
I was lost in his deep blue eyes;
and now my true love has gone up above,
but this kind of love never dies;
for in night dreams his spirit does arise.
I bring a red rose to his grave,
trying not to weep_  trying to be brave;
the breeze on my hair is his touch,
each beautiful memory I will save;
oh, we love each other so much.

In my dream I hear him whisper my name,
come, come my love to me this night;
I have no fear-  all fear I overcame,
and I find him in a white light;
it is not spooky but it seems quite right.
Paul has never left me-   he is my ghost,
I keep our love in my innermost;
he is a voice that is talking,
friends say-  oh, let him rest in peace, alright;  
but beside me he is walking.

"Is that the wind wailing? No, it is my love calling."

__________________________
May 5, 2020


Poetry/Dizain/I Live With a Ghost
Copyright Protected, 20-1248-723-03
All Rights Reserved, 2020, Constance La France


Written for the contest, Regal Royal Relationship
sponsor, Chantelle Anne Cooke

First Place
Form: Dizain

Picnic Pleasures of Love

Pretty birds and butterflies
Eagles soaring in the sky
Which is colored in bright blue
Flowers have a morning dew
Sunshine warming up the scene
Grass is wonderfully green
Beautiful sights all around
In the air and on the ground
But the most precious sight I see
Is sitting here next to me
With a picnic of romance
Brown and blue eyes shyly glance
At each other secretly
As two hands just casually
Reach for the same yummy treat
Trying to be so discreet
About these feelings that are building
Is something they both are willing
To pursue and maybe see
If their hearts finally agree
I don't have to search no further
This love will be mine forever
And the futures looking bright
Joined together with delight
Form: Rhyme

Premium Member The Eternal Question: God, No God, Maybe God

Growing up in a loving family of seven—
church on Sundays,
bare feet running wild,
sharing a tricycle with three—
double the fun, one standing behind the seat.

Dreaming of white dresses and Prince Charming,
following my dreams,
praying in church
to a God so giving.
Marveling at trees, sunrises, sunsets,
the deep blue sea—
His touch lingering in the beauty of life,
painting a picture so bright.

No doubt in my mind that God exists.
All the whistles and bells
laid at my feet—
a handsome young man,
blue eyes, dark hair,
took my hand in his and said,
“Be my wife.
Build a life side by side.”

Thanking the good Lord when we said, “I do.”
Years go by, and we look to Heaven,
grateful for two little miracles
running around our feet.
A full life, with its grief and joy,
but always the promise of forever—
God, ever-loving, giving us strength.

Until the day the nightmare began.
Shaking my fist at the big man in the sky,
another Earth angel called home—
to a Heaven I no longer believed in.

Dead trees, dull sunsets,
the deep sea filled with my tears.
No more miracles,
no more God,
no mankind I could trust.
No make-believe happy endings.

Grief so profound—
mourning my daughter, barely thirty.
Bitterness crept into my soul.
The world turned grey,
no colour left to see.
No longer praying.

Days turned to months—
still standing, somehow.
Dead inside since she went away.
Poetry became my lifeline,
the reason I’m still here.

The veil of darkness lifts—
just a bit.
The beauty of the Earth whispers again.
A newborn’s cry brings tears—
not of sorrow, but joy.

Memories of years with you return,
and maybe—just maybe—
a crack forms
in the wall I built.
Maybe there is a God.

I see His reflection staring back at me.
A gift:
another day to grieve,
to live,
to love—
and to humbly ask forgiveness
for ever doubting the Lord, my Saviour.

Dust to dust, ashes to ashes—
His promise: everlasting.

Missing Kristen

Missing Kristen

Bright blue eyes that sparkle;
And gentle chestnut curls.
She dances through my heart strings;
My skinny baby girl.

So proud to be her Grandma;
Even though I'm kind of fat.
I chased her round my garden;
While she shouted, "I want that."

I miss her so this morning,
My skinny baby girl.
Though she's gone to Mississippi;
She's right here in my world.

She's in my broken what-nots;
In the pictures on my wall.
In the stains there on my sofa.
She's my baby after all.

My first beloved Grandchild;
Little keeper of my heart.
I am missing little Kristen,
Though I know we'll never part.

There's a bit of me inside her;
She's my Grandchild after all.
And  a bit of my dear husband;
And our families one and all.

She is so much like her Mother,
Yet also like her Dad.
Though she fractures my best china,
I will never call her bad.

We are always linked together;
By duty and by love
By the design of our great maker
Our Lord and God above.

Yet I'm missing my Granddaughter
Though she leaves me in a whirl.
My big-footed, darling Kristen;
My skinny baby girl
Form: Rhyme


Premium Member Touch Me

Touch me like you mean it
My soul hungers for your caress
These blue eyes wish to feast on you
Please take your time as you undress

We can listen to soft music
Playing from my old radio
Don't be concearned about the time
Love can be better when it's slow

Touch me like you mean it
Consume me fully with desire
This body of mine aches for you
Only your love can quench this fire

Come feel each and every inch
Let your hands and mouth explore
Lift me on waves of pleasure
Until I beg you for more

Touch me like you mean it
Until these two bodies lay spent
Your aroma a sweet perfume
I long to be lost in that scent
Form: Quatrain

Deep blue

Eyes a deep ocean blue, so deep you could drown.
Like the moon after dusk a silent calming glow, a feeling I haven’t felt since November of 2024.
Another dream, I’ve always seen you in my dreams, like the the mist that comes at dawn.
A voice like gold that gleams in the sun, like honey that melts on your tongue.
“Beautiful places” by Hannah ponce is what I feel when I think of you.
Words are futile devices, and your words are more to me than any high.
The world keeps spinning, yet your here. Like time has stopped just for you.
Even if you leave you’ll always have a key to my heart, the experience will never leave, an old book I can always look back to and read, a nostalgia that reminisces within me. 
To think of you a feeling so fleeting almost unreal.
To drown so deep into your eyes, yet to look up and see the gleaming sun through the deep blue waters.
I know almost nothing about you, yet I feel you so deeply through my soul, like the glimmering waters I swim too.
Your so quiet, like the grass in the winds breathe, or maybe I’m the breeze with wind so loud I can’t hear you.
You feel so natural, a cloud floating along the skies, I wish I could reach you from those skies so high. 
A smile so warm I feel it in my bones, like a bowl of homemade soup fresh out of the oven, I could eat anytime. 
Looking up at those skies, thinking of everything in time.
What a beautiful sight to look into those deep blue eyes.
© Addison DJ  Create an image from this poem.

Premium Member The Lovers of New York

the rain that drowned the sidewalks
dampened down the night-time heat
creating steam through manholes
from the pipes beneath the street

and set against this backdrop
of a vibrant city beat
swarms of taxis stung the air
with horns stuck on repeat

as a writer sipping coffee
staring from a café seat
wrote words for her 'bestseller'
based on when two people cheat..

"..married strangers and a storm..
arranged a covert meet..
..ran towards each other
in a way such lovers greet..

they kissed beneath umbrellas 
in a manner so discreet
then stepped inside a restaurant
to flirt, laugh, love and eat

her big blue eyes melted his heart
her smile was wide and sweet
and he was rich, tall, cool and calm 
and swept her off her feet..."

...but before the lovers' story
made it to another sheet
the writer came to from her thoughts
with the chapter incomplete

her big blue eyes and sweet wide smile
felt somewhat obsolete
on the poor, tall, cool, calm waiter who
brought change with her receipt.
Form: Monorhyme

The Scene

So lonely I was watching at shore the sands twirl 
And suddenly I saw a spirit across the sea 
I longed to touch it for I have missed dreaming 
but I couldn't even move so I closed my eyes 
And let it pass threw.

Little voices I heard, flying birds up high
Reminded me of life and that I am still alive 
They seemed so close but they were far away

Behind the tree's I found beautiful creatures 
That thou never seen in real life nor fiction
I saw colorful pandas with light blue eyes 
All together as a family we dined for nights 
They helped me pick fruits from trees 
Kept me warm at night with their fur hair
And fish by morning and feed them as well 

Then one day a black creature ran right threw our shelter
 and killed everything even our hearts 
I ran away like a crazy person to save my soul 
never forgot a tear drop nor their cries 

after many nights hiding and screaming inside
 I left my place and went out to shore 
There were it all started 

18/01/2017

Premium Member Unconscious Bias

Written: September 08, 2024 For Edward Ibeh Contest

                     ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He has blue eyes and lovely blond hair,
Curls rose above his pink and pretty ware.
Do not mention his background or affairs,
With Africa by people who settled there.

His father's family tree has extensive roots,
Has Swedish, Cajun French, and British limbs.
Grafts from Choctaw and Cherokee wood routes,
That got some black stems from long-time whims.

His mother comes from a Creole background,
Descendants of a native African tribe.
Parentage from France and Spain was found,
And mingled with Bayou Indians and more vibe.

Because intolerance and hatred confine,
They also obstruct the expansive plain.
Therefore, bigots are vindictive and supine,
It is only clear to observe the gutter drain.

There are no pleasant views of the spleen,
There are no cloverfields or rolling greens.
Restricted minds lack the ability to see,
a breathtaking panorama of the scene.

And biased men with pretentious pride,
While in white, they become narrow-eyed.
who despise Blacks, Jews, and Native side,
They are completely sealed and closed inside.
© Sotto Poet  Create an image from this poem.
Form: Rhyme

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