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Best Poems Written by Benjamin David

Below are the all-time best Benjamin David poems as chosen by PoetrySoup members

Details | Benjamin David Poem

'Twas the night of that particular evening whose noon-tide bade wondrous twilights and whose moon suffused in its consummated prophecy. Men perched themselves around balefully dire fires and professed eerie tales to themselves in unsettling delight; tales that forebode dark, lurid prophecies of, according to legend, loathsome howls that molest the hearts of young men and women. These swain starlets, unlike anything avowed in prophecy afore, had their own mysteries and developed their own enigmas and whose particular temperaments spurn dreams that keep the heavens afloat. On that very evening aforementioned, an impoverished and somewhat educated young man sat wearingly in his sofa with eyes affixed upon the hearth whose eerie gaze sullenly flickered in the crackled furore of midnight's fire. "Unbeknownst to legend", he thought, "man makes his own dreams and dreams thereafter make men".
He tilted his head slightly- proud of his attempted aphorism, and he outstretched his arm and repealed the glass of fine whisky to his chest and lifted it to his mouth and took a sip and smiled sneeringly. As he placed his empty glass on the floor, he let his weary eyes wander around the dark and rather hollow room whose empty walls echoed the beseeched pendulum of an old grandfather clock in the corner that was gathering dust. The moon's lustre danced on the windowpane and the night cried a billowing wind that howled unlike anything the darkness avowed before. Now with his sneering smile adjourned, he befouled the night with its novelty and its apparent lack of purpose. He frowned and glowered at the moon and damned it for all his ills and he cursed the stars for their sparkle. "Why must the sky scintillate and shimmer whilst we here on Earth face death and dolour?" "If fate pertains here then it surely lacks an artistic taste of any kind, for to be artistic is to be beautiful and the most beautiful thing we can experience is the enigmatic; the incomprehensible and the inexplicable for it has been called the source of all true art and science". He slowly raised himself from his incumbency and hurried over to the window and emphatically closed the tapestries as they flickered in motion from their forceful closure. The precocious man returned to his arm chair with its rather haggard ottoman-footstool and grabbed his empty notepad to orchestrate ideas for his next novel about the despairing realities of life with its disfigured values of virtue and beauty.
As he fell asleep, a gentle tapping could be heard on the window. A small robin peered in from a small aperture between the tapestries. It cried ever so gently for the fire with its warmth and it longed for its lambency. As it continued to stare, its sleepy tears trickled down the window...for it knew the blessing of beauty.

Details | Benjamin David Poem

Nervosa

-Dedicated to all those suffering with an eating disorder. Beauty, true beauty, belies a gentrified, pretty exterior. You are not alone-


Benighted whispers and spurning dreams
Forthwith in blisters and burning streams

Shameful saunters in billowing blight
Hereto haunters with pillowing plight

Weep and wither betwixt a bawling bloom
Seep shall deliver amidst a falling fume

Expel and deliver for the morning's bright
Swell and shiver for the swarming's night

-

Details | Benjamin David Poem

Forever I Am You

You believe me to be an altruistic man as I smile with sneering reluctance. 
You may think me gentle as I extend my hand in goodwill, but degraded am I as I wistfully watch my hand recoil from your filthy phalanges with its foul clutch. 
You wave me off poised as I stand here in this field laden with perennial flowers as they stir aloft, but unbeknownst to you I berate you as you retreat afoot and go forth from my company into the night. 
You deliver beautiful words in my image unto your friends, but I carry your name with seething indiscretion into the fire.
You entitle me as a "friend", but I explicitly fornicate your secrets as I spitefully scathe and scoff unto you.
You divulge your mysteries but I deprecate them and take exception to your standing as I plunge you within rueful nether worlds foreboding in treachery and wretchedness...
Why? For I have no pride unto you.
You place your life you into my palm and recite proverbs appealing for my heart unto yours, but guileful am I and in wicked glee do I carry unto the grave your beauty with its secrets. 
You inscribe me as a "fiancée" into forever without recognising the falsifier whose witness bears mistaken. 
You smile as your recite dreams aforementioned in times bygone, but I chastise you, and your children do I condemn into hell for their fondling fledgling and fornicated perversions.  

You call me a "friend", but I am forever you

Details | Benjamin David Poem

Flowers

Kneeling upon a smile to touch the vine
Scentful seeping in blissful sensation
Leering beauty and plucking temptation
Just one piece of nature's heaven divine

Arose to steal a kiss from sunlight's ray
Like morning's dew upon a suffused glow
Facing the zephyr where the blossoms blow
Where pollens aflutter towards the bay

Details | Benjamin David Poem

Sand Dunes

She stared up, intently, watching the Peruvian skies pass composedly above. She was dazed and disorganised about the steps leading her hither. Her eyes descended upon her hands, hands that were dry and sallow from the days of climbing. She clutched her fists searchingly, hoping that her two index fingers were still graced by her grandmother's heirloom. She surveyed the uncouth distance with its eerie remoteness and summoned all the remaining strength left in her limp body and continued the long expedition. She passed imposing mountainous regions and extended arid areas of desert. She felt the tepid wind with its suppleness play with her legs and she heard it sing echoed incantations as it passed on into the twilight. She stopped but for a moment, and wandered how, at this point of time, life had forged itself in its current form, in its current melody. She continued her long, galling walk - every step felt consigned to oblivion; every effort allayed the previous one. She felt the echoes of her long-lost love permeate like some record saddled in skip. She fixed her eyes on her shadow. 'How did you manifest? ' she would ask, speculatively, occasionally trying to shirk and weave her opaque reflection. She couldn't avert her mind from a particularly fond memory in which, on a very placid English afternoon, she would sit by the nearby river with her childhood friend, Ruby. She always had a penchant for memories of Ruby when she found herself addled and aggrieved by some hardship. But Ruby was not here, she was absent like her maudlin love - forsaken and remiss. The mirage enticed her, coerced her and terrorized. Tears began to fall like fragmented moments of yesteryear. The mistral gales howled hauntingly and the sun continued to blanch and braise. A bird, cowled and suspect, perched itself on a nearby tree and watched the lady clamber through the brazen sands, and asked itself: 'but, why? '

Details | Benjamin David Poem

The Secrets of Love

Once upon a day, two pretty women strolled down a pastoral park that offered their cheeks the most countrified caress and their eyes an orchard of assorted pomegranates. 
After succumbing to weariness, the two courtly women perched themselves on a bench and mused about the simple complexities of men. In their musing, one said unto the other:"men are blinded by attractiveness and through our beauty we can lead any man astray". The other, scintillating in the sun's gleam said brazenly:"Those who believe that really do lack artistic taste!". 
The other lady percolated in thought in the most captivating and graceful of manners and en masse an old couple approached afoot, smiling hand-in-hand. The old man asked his elegant, elderly cohort to stop in their wandering and he turned his body to the sitters and approached the fair women whose aglow gleamed."I could not but help overhear your deliberation and I want to reveal the secrets of the universe unto you" he continued as he bespoke:"and what is more,I know the secrets of love"Seemingly beguiled by the older gentlemen and his unalluring,aged appearance and resoluteness,they asked him to move out of the sun for his frame blocked the sun's lustre.From therein they continued to ignore him,believing him to be crazy and most certainly bold.As he continued reciting his secrets whilst being consecutively and ignobly ignored,his wife smiled from astern as he felt her love for him scintillate in the most divine of flowered forms.He continued to implore unto them that he knew the secrets of beauty and thereof offered his wrinkled palm for them to hold.In disgust at his apparent lack of decorum and common decency, the two women swiftly relinquished the bench and continued their path with their elegant walks and in doing so braggartly disparaged the man for his many fouls and for being"too old to know everything", something they knew could only be a quality of youth. As he turned around within what he felt to be his bellowing disappointment, he caught the countenance of his wondrous wife whose sultry smile danced in a curvature that shone straight everything that was crooked. He knew at that moment he indeed knew the secrets of the universe. 

The women continued their pattered walk with their grace and bespoke evermore qualms about how artistically unattractive old men are. The old couple graced the rainbow with their secrets and they knew that beauty is painting one's life in one's art and living as an art in one's life

Details | Benjamin David Poem

Melancholy

Those smiles bloomed, blossomed fawned
As tears now wander
Upon hearts squander
Love's grave has securely, purely, spawned 

We kissed aflutter and danced in shimmer
And my hands apprised
But now glanced disguised
For the shadows glare dolour and dimmer

Details | Benjamin David Poem

A Great Artist Is Always Before Her Time Or Behind It

As she clutched the embroidered paper, she wept, observing her tears sprinkle as they percussed the paper. Watching her droplets marinate, she was reminded of a certain pebble she tossed across the waters upon a heavenly cloud as a child, glancing at it in its attempts to clutch the current as it shimmered across the creek. Brushing the wandering dew from her cheeks, she peered sullenly towards the window as the snow danced in its patter against the mirrored pane. Bravely, she stood, aware of her head as it lowered in overcast almost to its own accord. As she grasped the stool beside her, she hurried, wearily, and approached the window and forcefully opened it. As she liberated the air, she sympathised with the tender wind that kissed her cheeks as it lost its direction. Befallen, she succumbed to the tearful weight her eyes whimpered and gracefully fell upon her bed, clutching the silken overlays as she swooned like an osprey with an artistic temperament.  Hiding herself between two pillows in a divine light, she glanced up to the tapestries as they moved gleefully to the melody of the moonlight's breeze and the howls of forsaken souls lost in the lands afore. As she focussed on the symmetrical elegance and the rich refinement of tragedy, only then did she realise that art was the only way to run away without leaving her home.

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End's Egress

He bade him well and caressed the sea
Their lips deplored and pined prithee
As hearts had quelled and tidings lorn
As romance sailed towards love's newborn

Once a dream had therein seen
Entreats that time which charm's convene
My soul entreats and whispers why
And the waters take my once forby

For towards night's nigh
Where
wind's winter gales
For which dance's die
As passing passion sails

Best Poems Written by Benjamin David

I Wander For You

The Novelist

Nervosa

Forever I Am You

Flowers

Sand Dunes

The Secrets of Love

Melancholy

A Great Artist Is Always Before Her Time Or Behind It

End's Egress