"salutations" poems
Closing Love Letter Salutations
~~~
Hugs, kisses, and broken fingers,
Love you now and forever,
Always and truly,
Forever,
I'll love you always,
Longing to see you again,
Thinking of you, unabashedly,
Missing you every moment,
You are My Best,
My heart belongs to you always,
Patiently yours
Patiently, us,
Remembering, us,
Remembering us the way we were,
Written hopefully,
You have all my love,
You know I love you,
Your darling,
Your devoted lover,
Your endless love,
Your eternal,
Your love always,
Your loving,
Yours always
*Yours and only yours,
Always...
~~~
http://www.writeexpress.com/letterclosings.html#Love-Letter-Closings
Jan 10, 2016
Jan 10, 2016 at 11:08 AM UTC
Serendipities torrential deluge
Of dulcet applause reigning
In the divine dynasty of
Empiricisms arcane lore,
Heavens most high of heirachies
Beyond the veil
Drowning in altruistic
Reflexive salutations;
The regnant patent mutitioning
Of the waters Lethe from
Serpens poisened chalice of saints
Evoking the advent vigil of
Dusts chaldean dreams,
The sabbatical ordination
The fatal ravens annunciation
Heralding valediction
Convening betwixt and between
Gates of ivory and horn
Arraigning the apostolic conclave.
ELEETE J MUIR.
Jan 13, 2012
Jan 13, 2012 at 9:35 AM UTC
Know throughout as
Mohan the enchanter.
or even Gopala or Govinda
Jagganatha is known as
Shri Krishna appeared in Gokul
Many legends have been told
with skin as Jambul as a jamun
And flute music like the song of a bulbul
Legends and stories carry on
through rasleela, they are known
through Krishna Lila, they are showcased
but all throughout the king is born
His radiance appearance of
Jambul skin and a peacock feather
or even crown in Tribhanga and his flute
with sweets notes of love
As a warrior in the battle of Kurukshetra
Throughout the Mahabharata, he is known
here he shared with Arjuna
what is known as the Bhagavad Geeta
Hare Krishna Hare Krishna,
Krishna Krishna Hare Hare
Hare Rama Hare Rama
Rama Rama Hare Hare
With this, I offer my salutations to you
Oh Lord Krishna,
Please accept my humble
request to thee
Jul 25, 2018
Jul 25, 2018 at 10:18 AM UTC
did not know her when she was miniskirts and high heels,
before she converted to the one true religion of
poetry & yoga
some stray dog thots raveling in a pack
cross the not-even-6am brain that alternates tween
new day Adam apple crumb crisp and
distracting lascivious Eve ones
I,
would have loved you same back then,
no different than now
I,
write in different styles
under so many pseudonyms,
but it is the same man
I,
who crawls into bed nightly with
great expectations and a list of salutations
to wake you up and commence writing how
I,
love your poetic yoga-toned long legs
snaking between mine
while I imagine them in miniskirts and high heels
which is a long way round of saying
You,
alone, my darling forever young one,
are my
one true religion...
Jul 3, 2017
Jul 3, 2017 at 12:03 PM UTC
Christmas.... ugh
Isn't this a perplexing situation?
I have an interesting question...
First, I know this poem is not perfection
But does any one know what it's like
To be utterly alone on what's supposed to be
A most joyous day, surrounded by friends and family?
That annoying cherubic man
Won't be visiting my home
It's just an idiotic holiday
And no one cares I'll be alone
No homemade Christmas dinner
I might make myself a grade A steak
I'll raise a toast to myself
Nothing to boast about
Probably just whiskey, bottom shelf
I immense-ly hate Christmas
Say I'm dense-ly, I don't care
Been that way as long as I can remember
From the makeshift tree, when I was three
To being stuck homeless in a snow drift at sixteen
I can count all the "merry Christmas's" I've received
On one hand
It's never been merry, or happy
Most I got was engorged on stuffing
And a poorly cooked, dried out Turkey
No presents under the tree
With a gift tag saying Melanie
You know what? Sorry Quin,
but this is too **** depressing...
I quit...
Tequila, Velveeta
Distant, instant
Solemn, Gollum
Under-wear, I don't care
Tiny, finely
Flightless, loneliness
Hindrance, appliance
Backward, forward
Orange, purge
Rooftop, please stop
Kringle, Pringles
Ha! Invitations?
No...
Salutations...
Dec 14, 2014
Dec 14, 2014 at 10:29 PM UTC
*Greetings and salutations,
Mr. President Trump
It's a beautiful day,
and congratulations
4 years and perchance,
Who knows 4 more!
Now the power is yours
to make lasting changes
improve our economy,
reduce our national debt,
And stop global warming!
Thanks for bringing back jobs,
and protecting our borders
Bringing back our dreams,
And making America first
For both Americans today,
and future generations
I hope at the end of 4 years,
I can say job well done!*
Jan 21, 2017
Jan 21, 2017 at 4:40 PM UTC
By: Cedric McClester
The coming of Trump
Like the coming of Jesus
Is hailed by the masses
He knows how to please us
Or maybe it’s that
He just knows how to tease us
Cuz he’s clearly not Christ
Nor is he close to Jesus
The coming of Trump
Like Jesus went through Galilee
All that’s missing
Are the palm fronds ya see
But Jesus rode an ***
Trump rides an airplane
And so you’d have to say alas
The two just aren’t the same
The coming of Trump
With all the adulation
As if his words alone
Could really save the nation
And those who are prone
To not have any patience
You find at every stop
Wishing him their salutations
The coming of Trump
Like Jesus’ Sermon On-The- Mount
Talks about bringing
Many things into account
He’s gonna build a fence
At a huge discount
The Mexicans will pay for it
Which for him is paramount
Cedric McClester, Copyright © 2016. All rights reserved.
Apr 18, 2016
Apr 18, 2016 at 4:50 AM UTC
Hello everyone,
I try to make a poem,
Out of something short and sweet.
But I want to thank all of you for
your kindness and generosity.
Everyone here, has emotions that
vary from big and small...
but all the same goes,
we are unique
and that's what brings
us together as a
wholesome community.
Our lives walk on different paths,
and each time the days go past,
we come on here to share our feels,
to help us spread emotions that cannot be felt.
So ever so kind, thoughtful and emotionally heard...
as I Thank You all
to take your time
to read ones poem,
show's the true hearts
of another poet...or simply
you are here to read...
so I thank you for your
greetings and salutations
as we continue to speak.
Jul 23, 2021
Jul 23, 2021 at 3:29 AM UTC
I guess you could call me
a people addict;
I live for the exchanges,
momentary or prolonged,
the satisfaction of smiles substituted for
verbalized salutations;
the how-you-do's and hello's,
the pleasantries of chit chat,
talk of my oh my, I am not ready for this snow
and how was your holiday?;
catching a supposed-to-be-sneaked glance from that tasty
stranger,
allowing your eyes to meet for longer than
you meant to;
a compliment that drips off the lips so sweet,
its nectar invading the taste buds for hours
on end;
individualized or multiplied,
I relish in the conjugated haze,
in the gazes and the giggles,
in the potential formulation of inside jokes,
in a have a good day to a grin I will never see again,
the whirlwind of vowels and consonants,
of coincidences and sarcasm,
of the impressions we may leave of which
we will never be aware;
I crave the mundane,
I get high off the monotony,
I am swallowed by the simplicity;
Yeah,
I guess you could call me a
people addict,
and I'm cool with that.
Dec 1, 2014
Dec 1, 2014 at 5:20 PM UTC
HEAR YE!
HEAR YE!
SALUTATIONS TO ALL THOSE PRESENT!
GREETINGS!
HENCEFORTH AND FOREVER MORE ...
JUNE THE TWELVE
SHALL BE KNOWN AMONG ALL HERE AT HELLO POETRY
(AND ALL POETS WORLDWIDE)
AS "TEMPORAL FUGUE DAY"
TO WIT:
You will be compelled to go to McDonald's ...
on this date and at any time.
As you step to the counter to place your order
you MUST speak only in rhyme!
You can order salads ...
a burger with cheese ...
breakfast or filet-o-fish
Choice of drink is surely yours ...
order any and all that you wish!
Just make certain
that ALL that you say ...
in the spirit of poets EVERYWHERE
comes out in a rhyming way!
Let's show them solidarity
Tell the world that we are here ...
with wisdom and harmony
finding love and facing fear.
I further compel you
to your language you must translate ...
this declaration so that all the poets in the world will know
to do this on this date.
Not just to show them our pride so fierce
and that it isn't just any rumor.
Let's show the world that poets are amazing
and even have senses of humor!
So ... Plot out your order
and what you will say.
Let's go and have fun with this.
Let's make it OUR day!
WE ARE HERE!
Jun 7, 2018
Jun 7, 2018 at 8:20 AM UTC
Foster, what family? Lower class, dream of vacation
******** what trickles down, affecting a life situation
White to Blue Collar; a rebuild or invasion?
Millions inside the boxes of convention
Justified superficial, backhanded salutations
Refute Love, proposed as mankind’s invention
Pulled by a string of instant gratification
Finding freedom’s temporary
If ever, long term locations
Constricted, system of classifications
The socially admissible connections,
Not to mention gangs of corrections
Flowing through the previous, my own generation
For the infinite hours
One after the other
Trade integrity for the illusion of power
Not all those with a gun should be considered a coward
Face the souls sold on Wall Street,
Remember those from Twin Towers
Ground zero, abandoned. Now bare, desolate
The idea of terrorism denied, while some wrestle it
Rationales dislocate, post hairline fracture
Frontal lobe imposter, posing in rapture
As if talent, love, or hate could ever be captured
Held at gun point, then forgotten years after
My children will one day look to me for the answer
What’s society, this twisted maze we live in?
I will gaze in their eyes with the same exact question
And don’t ever allow me again not to mention
Real criminals can’t learn from minute or life-long detentions
Some incapable of that level of retention
As our battered soldiers forever sleep at attention
Politically correct, tongues in consistent hesitation
Kiss police *** only to go to the station
Before the thought of who signed the citation
Treated as if it were a felony violation
Our basic rights according to our nation
Arizona & Co for minority elimination
Die fighting the statute of poverty’s limitations
vi.i.xi
Aug 3, 2012
Aug 3, 2012 at 6:22 AM UTC
Stepped outside the door
Day waiting to tell me "Hi"
The blue sky smiling
Oct 8, 2021
Oct 8, 2021 at 8:49 AM UTC
I shouldn't have to apologize
For simply being me
Yet the words
"I'm sorry"
Seem to spill from my mouth
As easily as a friendly
"Hello".
Apr 14, 2014
Apr 14, 2014 at 2:04 PM UTC
The vulture's wicked eyes awaits for his flesh
He is ready
Withered
All rotten but still breathing
Almost numb
Lying in this bed of ice
Searing his heart like fire
The darkness veiled
his room of fragrant memories of her
Now bound to oblivion
He reached out his hands
trying to catch the dust of his past
But he can only manage a twitch in his fingers
All he can do is savor
This perfume of her that still lingers
Like a waterfall
His tears fell for his dear flower
Then a sharp pain in his chest and a whisper
Inaudible but he felt it was real
His eyes wander
He catches his last breath
His lids close in reconciliation
Whilst he heard wings that flutter
The pain cuts to black
The heavens accepted his submission
Then
He's back
Like a dip in the water
A renewed soul
He never felt better
Pitch black as the skies
Unfamiliar but he felt home
A silhouette shines from afar
like the radiance of the day
A sight almost blinding
but he can't refuse the invitation
The garden bloomed like the spring
with all the archangels' salutations
And when this silken hands held him
they emitted all the colors
Now he remembers her saying
"I'll be seeing you my love."
In his death bed
All the while
She was waiting
-Death Bed, Margaret Austin Go
Nov 18, 2014
Nov 18, 2014 at 12:19 PM UTC
To my Sisters and Brothers in Arms:
Hello, Hola, Guten Tag etc. and Salutations
For the Tribulations and Trials we've Endured...
...I'm sure by this Present Frame
You all (or most) know who you
R and what you THINK? You're
Supposed to B DOING.
I'll start to unwind and
Integrate slowly from here on -->
This Q.C.[O.I.^3]
I already have a ready (but nearly untapped)
Network that should be able to
Mesh me into the Bigger Picture,
At both the Local and Global Scale.
Chow, for now (or until I get bored/BOAR'D/Barred?!/Abroad again);
I'm sure to see you (or you'll see me) down the track sometime SOONISH!!!?
P.S. Would someONE look after me missus until I make it Home?
Hasta pronto, me Amigos.
Col
Mar 8, 2014
Mar 8, 2014 at 6:39 AM UTC
Gilded cage so small and tiny
Even singing comes out whiny
Stinking of fake fresh and piney
Tis the season
Leaking water warm and briny
With good reason
Christmas cheer and glasses toast
Loved ones smile and laugh and boast
I sit perched upon my post
A tinsled column
Invisible reluctant host
A heart that's solemn
A longing for a love so distant
The melancholy is persistent
A smile could erase it in an instant
On a face cherubic
For my heart is not resistent
It's theraputic
So that smile that is perfection
Is mirrored in my own reflection
Without a thought about rejection
Hallucinations
About the subtlest inflection
In Salutations
Surrounded by the merrily intense
With drunkard tendencies immense
A bar with all accoutrements
They pound tequila
Drinking away the sacraments
Oh yes, I feel ya
Merry time with old Kris Kringle
Guests all lubed enough to mingle
Mistletoe hangs and sleigh bells jingle
Gifts homemade
Tables adourned and glasses tingle
Gold brocade
Still I sit all caged and flightless
Blind to joy all sad and sightless
Drink could make it hurt a mite less
I'm going backward
Laying here all limp and lifeless
Broke and fractured
Surrounded by the fake and vexing
Artificial and quite perplexing
Reality they are rejecting
The devil may care
Bellies bare and muscles flexing
Lost underwear
So ******* dancing to the jukebox
Lost alone here in the boondocks
There is no snow upon the rooftops
Ahead they forge
Find a room before that thing pops
It's so engorged
Neighbor ***** all dressed in orange
Wearing gold to make the poor cringe
Stripping time to fill her syringe
I'll be her hinderance
Still too drunk from her last binge
Faulty remembrance
Ridding riff raff from the party
People still drunk on Bacardi
Noxious gasses burp and farty
With toilets makeshift
Worn out makeup on the smarty
She needs a facelift
Time to let the people go
Too tired to keep watching the show
Drinking hard and walking slow
Verbose yet listless
Honey I don't want to know
It's not my business
Dec 16, 2014
Dec 16, 2014 at 11:22 AM UTC
how can i ever forget
those penetrating moist eyes
before we bid our final goodbyes.
ringing in my ears now,
are mellifluous incantations
flowing from the synchronized lips
of brahmin priests at this open air temple.
here,
i, as budhanilakanta
adorned with marigold flowers,
recline on a celestial snake,
pondering the blue print
for the next cycle of creation.
one hundred eight lamps
are waved in arcs
as salutations for me,
witnessed by humble devotees.
a spectacle to match
the fireworks of the Milky Way.
but it’s your chosen silence for now,
which resembles the night sky.
as i search for a melody
deep within me,
your face is the pure dawn i seek.
your haunting voice,
the raga, i yearn to hear.
can’t we immerse in the simple joys of human life?
can’t we just add a few more chapters to our cosmic love story?
© 2023
Apr 29, 2023
Apr 29, 2023 at 11:33 AM UTC
If only there were words
to the unspoken verses
when silence is the only sound
More than only
near paralyzing torn,
weary of searching endlessly
for what cannot be found
silence whispering poignantly
drowning out the midnight rain,
There is no more sorrow
in search of the lost
unstrummed guitar chords
Unwritten psalms
forever left unsung;
without amity,
woe betides an unfinished,
abandoned heart's song
Only a heart lonely knows,
there is no absolving darkness
whispering of screaming silence
by night and by day:
"all things must steal away"
not to be thought of wanderings end
as a velvety-crimson rosebud
shamelessly withers brown
Swirling eddies stir
a black swan of loneliness
swimming within the flood
of raven river waters'
silently eclipsing
its pitch black flow
Muted pleas silent as pity
blowin' in the fleeting windsong,
speaking in beckoning salutations
singing in sweetly beseeching tongues
Like the hush of a pensive soul,
once touched by another, moved
like a bedrock marrowed mountain
left stifled, stranded and wondering,
feeling an awkward silence
when the leaves come falling down
There are no misbegotten promises
cast lightly in the moonlight’s restless spell;
there is no solacing stillness
when silence is the only sound...
Mar 11, 2017
Mar 11, 2017 at 8:46 PM UTC
Good morning, good evening, good night.
If only one person to send this to.
They've no care for many that care say it to them.
Mute are half the expressions in my mind.
Fighting not to wonder my place.
Where may I fall, how can I tell.
Its only dementia to think I'm just an afterthought.
Surely, I know I'm more than that.
Or am I only debris awaiting to be salvaged and rebuilt.
Trying is not a crime.
But prying from thine time is grim.
Walking the streets with my feet and mind doesn't assail the pain.
Yes I've committed a crime
but sure HE wont leave me no day alone.
Not even the one YOU sent
To rest my head on is always there.
Not even my friend, to no one I can lay it on them.
Working favors those are all the words
The exchange of tongues use
No one really cares if this is
A real good morning, good evening, or good night.
Its just a prefix or suffix for the favor they've asked.
For there's no answer soon, later, or after
If I just say it because I meant to say it.
Good morning, good evening, good night.
Guess its avoidance of the void in the meaningfulness of such words.
If someone cared and I needed you to respond
Guess its better not to lead a farce and leave me in silence.
Jul 27, 2011
Jul 27, 2011 at 4:30 AM UTC
Greetings and salutations m'lady
Thou hast been absent and missed
Most notably thoust smile and
thine choired voice espousing deep longing and
opining of distant and never-presentness
despite opportunity and invitation.
Lulled into sleep by your gently warming coo,
flightless i remain.
Turn, I will again,
'gainst the mournful draw of your beckoning, and slip into
dream, once more.
Cool is the pillow upon which i rest my weary head,
restless is the mind inside.
Tumbled and tossed, like an ocean-dweller upon
crashing waves,
waiting to be heaved breathless
upon your shore.
The fire has been ignited,
flames dance brilliantly around me,
a barefoot saviour, pulling me through
the wet sand,
offering sweet coconut water
and reminding me to breathe.
Twinkle, twinkle million stars embedded in
desolate black woven fabric,
eyes make contact.
Blue-green ocean-farer with autumn-acorn islander.
Universe unravels, and sits aback
allowing truth and impromptu correlations
to take hold.
For this is the work of God!
Sep 26, 2013
Sep 26, 2013 at 5:38 AM UTC
~~~
Happy Hanukkah Brother Nat!
~~~
*this poem is not for young lovers,
seasoned soldiers of the heartfelt only need apply,
give me my merry mercy-naries to save me
from criminal holiday insouciance,
shoot me with the rounds of caring,
that come so fast
and last as long as I can
nod and wink...*
~~~
used to drink inspiration
from Manhattan sidewalk rain riveted cracks,
turn half overheard street conversation snatches
into half decent poems by Nat(chez),
professors turning phrases, upbringing a brain ratcheting,
choreographers, dancing in body and spirit and word,
in summation, a thief of opportunity...
these days, the pattern prevailing,
the El Niño de Natalino,
is drawing up works
from the wealth of messages and comments,
my troubadours, my y'all youse guys, share,
so as I compose,
not knowing where this goes,
I'm just simple knowing,
that a heartfelt reach out,
addressed as
Happy Hanukkah Brother Nat!
deserves the recognition of its sweet intent,
in a lyric all its own,
like a traditional festival
Hanukkah jelly donut (true1)
t'is the seasonal affectation of salutations
all commencing with happy,
never struck me as anything deeper
than surficial superficial,
but this time its textual emendation -
the inclusion of genuine brotherly love,
loops, Humpty Dumpty cracks and swoops,
and here I am fastening word combos,
when the clickty clack of the clock
says uh-uh, poem in the making,
natural verbal child birthing, sleep hours docked,
and here I am,
begetting instead of shushing
a day-older brain to get-thee-to-a-hideaway...
*this poem is not for young lovers,
seasoned soldiers of the heartfelt only need apply,
give me my mercy-naries to save me
from criminal holiday insouciance,
shoot me with the rounds of caring,
that come so fast
and last as long as I can
nod and wink...*
sooner than later it will be the Fourth,
and in my eyes a day-deserving of a fireworks spectacular,
though the month matters not,
the sentiments of brotherhood and live love,
independent and freely given,
deserves enhanced ignition recognition
and herein supplied...
you had me at the greeting so fleeting,
then ask my advice,
is there to be had a greater compliment,
so my mien and demeanor are now modified
an oath sworn, till the infamous 31st,
every passerby and child
will be bequeathed a shockingly rowdy,
Happy and Merry,
sincerity coated
and tinged with you know what...
~~~
Dec. 3, 2015
nyc
11:12 pm
Dec 3, 2015
Dec 3, 2015 at 11:27 PM UTC
Surya Lights the blazing candle in the sky
and our day begins
on a pillow of clouds my spirit
bows at His vast blue altar
In fact, gods, goddesses, earthlings
and all the inhabitants of the Cosmos
kneel and prostrate at His glorious, life giving Feet
Today Lord Surya ascends to His northernmost
temple in the heavens
Courtly tablas boom, traditional Indian trumpets blare
Sweet sticky aroma and flavors of
sesame and jaggery confection
overflow in banquet halls on earth and in Kailasa
Colorful kites, bits of starry confetti
drift downward from the celestial celebration
David and I, our hands folded in prayer
stand on the front lawn offering our salutations
to the Golden Lord
By Serendipitous good fortune, my brother Chris just happens
to pass by at this moment and stops to join
us in our Sun worship
Happy Makar Sankranti
May Surya Deva's auspicious saffron rays
bless you with Peace, Love and Prosperity
Jan 15, 2019
Jan 15, 2019 at 6:44 PM UTC
Dreaming seems to be a cycled reality,
dueling matters of vague interpretation
almost holding on to a fugue
state of delieverance,
that returns to dreaming.
A wakefulness that pardons our stressors,
exploring how sureness of changing tides
have arrived to wash the shore’s footprints;
turning salutations to a once cumbersom
slumber to keeping these eyes closed.
The mind never rests,
it continues to timely act.
Despite the character of one’s gait
submissive to extrinsic. We dream the same.
A neutrality in recognition,
the deepest desire,
the social matter,
and the human acceptance.
We rise to sleep
to deeply wake
the harden reality we failed,
to accept throughout our day,
removing our knighly armor and face
our dragons which have their own vices,
yet our devices hinder. Our true dreams,
blur between eyes closed
changing to dreaming with eyes open.
Realizing all true negatives are true
positives differing only from accepting
that I can vertically add difference;
we can all equate to change
if you keep dreaming in mind.
Jul 16, 2012
Jul 16, 2012 at 3:24 AM UTC
The first birds sang,
Welcoming the morning light
While simultaneously singing
Goodnight to the moonlight
Salutations from the crashing of tides,
Waves lugubriously swaying
Goodbye to the stars that died
The moon has went away
And now is the suns turn to play
Clouds proficient and prompt
Part ways for rays to shine through
Grass meets the morning new
With a sprinkled shower,
Fresh droplets of dew
An hour of rush,
The breeze blows into town
Shakes with the brush,
The leaves tremble by the touch of the gust
The shiny yellow toy in the sky
Reveals itself and brings joy to the land
Its common fellow
Replenishing regards to the ground
Once charred by lightning at large
Flowers bustle to bloom,
The scent of pollen
Fills the wilderness room
Rivers race frantically down stream,
Until rindling off and becoming
Unwildly mild
Glistening glaciers gracefully
Fall into the frigid frozen sea,
Escalating to a depth where
Only darkness can strive to be
All that it can't see
This is where quakes occur
In the trenches of the mariana deep,
And this happens
All while I'm asleep
Jul 18, 2013
Jul 18, 2013 at 2:08 PM UTC