appreciation, love, poetry,
by Daniel Turner |
Love's tend'rest touch, your gentle words reveal
Caress my soul. sweet poet, with your verse
Write dulcet lullabies which make me feel
Secure, like infants held at breast to nurse
Turn tears of sadness into peaceful streams
Make whispered breezes whisk my strife away
Put passion in my fantasized daydreams
Paint troubles in to flowery bouquets
And even though I know they're not for me
I steal your soothing love just like a thief
This load I carry lightens suddenly
Because my broken heart has found relief
Your words are like a song, please sing to me
Sweet poet, how I love your poetry
an original poem by Daniel Turner
by JAN ALLISON |
I asked you what I have done wrong
But there is no response - just a stony silence
No words can convey my guilt, my inner sadness
This will be my last goodbye
My final letter to you my love
Tears flow down my ashen face
Tears of sadness, tears of regret
Tears fall on the paper as I write
They mingle with the damp blue ink
The inky water leaches into the paper
Its colour starts to bleed and spread
Until it fades into nothingness
I am empty, devoid of emotion
I can say no more
Forgive me for being me
Forgive me for caring
Forgive me for loving you
by Victor Buhagiar |
If only I could write you a sonnet,
Iambic pentameter and what not,
Let my muse mull profoundly upon it.
I must write it quickly lest I forgot.
It will have to stress real passion, love,
Mention a rose if I really must
But for heaven's sake leave out the white dove,
Still do mention the red moon that I trust.
Compare her eyes to some fragrant flower,
And wish to taste her full strawberry lips,
Scheme to meet her in a quiet bower,
Clouds enfold us in mythical eclipse.
Will she come, will she go, my marigold?
Ah, my poor love sonnet has now gone cold.
POTD 14 September 2020
by Michelle Faulkner |
lost, muse, writing,
These are the roads I didn't take
A pause too soon, a turn too late
Lost in the love I never spoke
The poems I never wrote
Gone are the moons I didn't chase
The sun-bloomed wind I didn't taste
The skylines I left incomplete
The stars I didn't seek
Muted are songs which may have brought
A silent music to my thoughts
Fading traces in dim sunsets
Autumns I never kept
Verses yet rise through foggy climes
Reveries of forgotten rhymes
If fractured light once more takes flight
I still have poems to write
by Arturo Michael |
color, life, poems,
Paint the world of words so bright
Brush the canvas with pure delight
Be the rainbow coming out of a storm
The sunrise of a beautiful morn
Paint the world as you would wish
For what is written expresses it
Hearts maybe black or blue
A bright smile colors I love you
Paint it as a blind man sees
Hear it as the deaf conceives
Blank spaces upon your walls
Interpretations are meant for all
Paint the world and let it be
You are you and I am me
No left,right or middle lanes
Colors are one and the same…write your name
by Izzy Gumbo |
sorry, thank you,
Dearest soup tech
Who I love and respect
I write to you
So that you may know
I've tried to be here
With iPad and cheer
But the login fails me
No action tells me
Of possible broken links
My iPad stinks
Meanwhile I sigh
As I try to not cry
As I type again
And hope with intent
That you might check in
... And tell me
How to begin...
Wish me luck
by Andrea Dietrich |
My love is like a worker's gloves grown old.
His hands are leather, roughened now with age
and years of work in weather hot and cold,
yet through the many years, he has grown sage. . .
My love is like a builder's pair of boots.
He's dusty and fatigued and still he walks
while trailing mud, but now his attributes
shine through despite life's many stumbling blocks.
My love is like a pair of jeans much worn,
a pair of socks with holes that have stayed warm.
Though time and all the trials he has borne
have left him frayed, he wishes no one harm.
To write a beaming sonnet would not do,
but threadbare love (in some ways) bests the new.
by Andrea Dietrich |
See it there
in virgin perfection.
Open its pages.
They are so white
that they radiate light.
See the magic pen
sitting by the book
meant just for two.
Each of you - together -
Reflect the pages’ light!
Then with the pen,
you may write
your beautiful life,
for this is
the Book of Love.
March 31, 2017 for the Book of Love Contest of Rick Parise
by Larisa Rzhepishevska |
devotion, write, write,
I don’t write poems,
I drink them like wine,
I become tipsy
with each coming line.
I don’t write poems,
I breathe them like air,
I become so happy
when each one I share.
I don’t write poems,
I live with them;
they prolong my years,
they are as true as I am.
I don’t write poems,
I weave into verses
sadness, joy, tears,
prayers, love, curses…
My poems talk and sing,
Sense of living they bring.
©Larisa Rzhepishevska (Odessa, Ukraine)
by Vijay Pandit |
Let eyes meet, let them spark a fire
Let rhythms sing to music of lyre
Let heartbeats of joy write our song
In moods of kisses yearned for long
Let blushing cheeks welcome romance
Enchanting heart's seductive dance
Let winds of love ignite our flame
As night, ecstatic, croons your name
December 29, 2019
Placed 3rd: Lay it on me—8x8 poetry contest
Eight syllables per line (howmanysyllables.com)
Sponsor: Charles Messina
Placed 2nd: Strand select 6 by Brian Strand
by Daniel Cheeseman |
If I was to write of love, then from my
nib your heart would flow. Dreams
would be the parchment on which I
scribe, and your fragrance the sentence
formed. A desire and passion would
flood my page, with intermittent kisses
instead of punctuation. Chapters of
grace would fill your eyes, the contents
feelings spill your soul. The ink from
deep and pulsing veins, would secrete
the validity of my emotions. I see and
do not see, for with your absence my
page is blank, yet in your thought reams
I write. Let this page be a blanket on
which those eyes could sleep, and
realize my love is not a dream, but
reality in reaching words.
by Lin Lane |
I wrote verse on the wings of a lark
romantic phrases in perfect rhyme
but the lark flew away in the dark
I wrote no further for the longest time
A lone blue jay landed upon my lawn
I wrote sweet prose on his sapphire wings
He spent the night with me, but at dawn
the jay flew away and no longer sings
I answered the call of a beautiful raven
I wrote love sonnets on his ebony wings
He stayed for years in my safe haven
I was one of the raven's castoff things
I no longer trust those who take flight
I lost them all and my torn heart bled
On restless wings I'll never again write
of love that leaves me alone in my bed
by Leslie Albright |
Sunflowers and dandelions.
Sometimes in life it's a fine line.
We go outside to breathe the air.
Look around, try not to stare.
The little children play and run.
The girls are screaming, having fun.
Little boys follow along.
Learning the words to write the song.
A bouquet of summer's sweet refrain.
A timeless imprint on your brain.
To carry us into the night.
Beyond what sunshine brings to light.
After all the dreams come true.
But get lost in the dawning dew.
Only glimpses of love survive.
As you awake having to strive.
Finally finding out the truth.
About our fantasy's in youth.
All we wanted was a friend.
And a little love before the end.
by White Wolf |
The absence of love plays on my mind,
I search within, but love, I cannot find.
Another wasted day, just frittered away.
Can't bring myself to see, it's all because of me!
Dark clouds are moving in, my soul's screaming out.
There's no place I wish to be, my mind consumed with doubt.
My body's numb, this pain has won,
As I lift my pen to write again,
these words flood out before my eyes.
It's not until then that I realise!
That all my struggles are not my demise,
and all my woes as far as a poet goes,
For now, a smile creeps on my face.
Finally, I have found that loving place.
by Paghunda Zahid |
joy, love, smile,
Futile is the sun to a heart in awe
And trivial is the moon's cosmic fame
All these voices are nothing but noises
These Flowers are like invisible stars
For what's it that the universe contain
Nothing... but your face to keep me sane
Only your voice brings exceptional joy
Only your lovely smile can make me fly
Syllable count: 10 per line
27th July, 2020
Edited to write it in couplet form for:
Joy Poetry contest sponsored by Regina
by Quoth TheRaven |
devotion, growing up, morning, true love,
Who was it that first said..
'the eyes are the window to the soul'..
who's eyes did they envision..
and how did they know?
And what of sweet wetted fingers that comb..
to straighten this messed heart cowlick I own.
Few well paired wanderlust seek a divine pardon..
still fancy the folly of youth's far flung travels.
Two trespass meadow lost to petal lined garden,
til intimacy's last mystery unravels.
Darting dawn awakes to write upon love's torn page..
parting drawn in true type font in spite of heart's age.
by Besma Riabi Dziri |
beauty, destiny, faith, love, school,
I hold my papers and pen
not a poetry to write
it is the school year again
one other journey in time.
My ever burning concern
would my words find their way
as all my candles I burn
to meet yearning faces each day.
A thirst for light in young hearts
I lend my soul, the blanks I fill
and then a whole story starts
quenching feels would be a thrill.
When my pupils take my notes
would they read devotion in many a line
my fear, a quote or a word floats
my quill unveiled in heart shrine.
I hold my pen with great zeal
two paths I walk, a heart is torn
my love how can I conceal
at a crossroads, a poet is born.
by Casarah Nance |
color, love, rainbow,
There is a rainbow in my world today,
With every word your write my way.
Colors of emotions flow in harmony,
as they spread across the sky in unity.
Wrap me in your red, orange and blue,
fill me with the violet passion of you.
You make the sky shine after that rain,
softly your soul pushes away the pain.
In every luxurious line that you say,
you are the rainbow in my world today.
by Carol Sunshine Brown |
emotions, encouraging, friendship,
M y eyes see what your heart is feeling
Y our feeling are written into poetry
P ain, love, wonder, inspiration
O nly you can make me see, hear, feel you
E ven though only words you have written
T hey touch my heart and mind deeply
R equiring me to write a poem so full of feeling as
Y ou are my poetry
by Jesse Zerlaut |
imagery, poetry, writing,
I wrestle with my words in aimlessness when I write.
Poetry is a relationship to me, it's a troubled courtship.
I can't come to reasonable reform in words on the spot..
but rather seek intimacy with my thoughts in attempt.
The two of us, man and his romantic notions,
carelessly Laid into tousled affections on a page.
I love her, and the page, she spurns me willfully.
I love her, and grasp in hopelessness to understand her.
I give my undivided attention, my eyes wander her form.
I've sought shamelessly to appease her whispered desires.
But she is a selfish lover, asking for more than can be given.
She, the playful counterpart in a field of rationality, often eludes me.
by Russell Sivey |
How do I write my love in poetry?
Spin it around a needle’s company
I succumb to the wishes that’s displayed
Straight into my heart, a bed that is made
Words that focus not on the worldly things
Making love formed by surely everything
Almost all my chimed poetry is filled
Tinging of the bells on my window sill
My poems flow from my pen to your head
Allowing even the strange come to bed
Obstinate people combined with some change
Must read of my love, they will rearrange
My lovely other, sits upon the throne
Love ties us as one, prepares what is known
by Justin Bordner |
destiny, devotion, i love you, soulmate,
When you laid your hands upon my naked heart
feeling the flex of it's fire, accessing the innocent desire,
holding the form of a new need, I swear, that's when love did start,
your touch became my tradition, the wine of your wisdom my lovely teacher,
From the fine feathers of your soft steel wings
I write poetry of storms in paradise and of love in your eyes,
sympathizing with my sage solitude, yet subduing the sadness it brings
you offer me everything an angel owns, halo and bloodroots, and together we rise -
by Barbara Gorelick |
A wish is hope, all dressed up
A heart that needs to sing...
And I have 3 songs today,
Hopes and wishes, that I bring...
I wish yesterday was today
So I could change some things...
I seem so much wiser now,
A different song I'd sing...
I wish I had the power
To make my fellows see...
That hate wont set the table,
But love is always free
I wish that I could write a poem
That everyone would read...
Something with a message,
To plant a fruitful seed
We all would like to think
That magic might come our way...
And that some Genie just might grant,
Our hopes and wishes for today
by John Gondolf |
goodbye, lost love,
Last Love Letter
Adrift upon a sea of dreams
like paper boats on downhill streams;
my swirling heart is like debris
forever drifting endlessly
while weathered by your wily schemes.
And so I write as my soul screams
this last love letter so it seems
as hearts approaching apogee
adrift upon a sea.
I’m hiding from the moon’s soft beams;
a pool of sorrow sadly steams
with fantasies you stole from me
when you walked out and set me free
and left my heart in dire extremes
adrift upon a sea.
January 8, 2021
Poem of the Day - January 9, 2021
by Tom Valles |
appreciation, bereavement, blessing, death, eulogy, loss, wife,
Life is but a fleeting mist.
What is now, will soon be missed.
Seize the moment, say in words:
God’s greatest to you, was her.
Days of ordinary passing,
Too soon pass for nothing’s lasting.
Take the time to cherish her,
All widowers surely concur.
For when death’s door is finally closed,
No words or sonnets you’ve composed
Can reach the ears that once desired,
Your Love and words to lift; inspire.
Nothing in this world can bring
What you alone have offering.
Make the call, write the letter
Let her know you won’t forget her.
Death’s toll rings and she is gone
A vacuum fills and a fullness drawn.
While you can, express your heart
Before too soon, she will depart.