"serenades" poems
Into the wonderment of your autumnal mind.
Where the skin of your grief sheds its leaves.
Is the song of your sea bound into colourful light?
The Shepherd breaches the flock of your dreams,
And the pastures breathe a sigh of relief,
As your tears of morning dew
Glisten the parched landscape.
Does your bouquet of *****
Lay wistfully in the wilderness?
The skies of blue that reside in your eyes
Serenades the coming of the tide,
Harvesting the fruit of our labour of love.
Is this a wind of smile that turns into a voyage of valiancy?
A flock of thoughts liberated with a cry of exclamation
As your fears of autumn blue
Are exiled into the rapacious wind.
Dec 17, 2016
Dec 17, 2016 at 5:40 PM UTC
in the heart
of the night
a slice of moonlight
cascading
beckoned
i rouse
its mesmerizing lure
gently stirs
a hazy
remembrance
entranced
from shadows i emerge
hearkening its echo
you’re dreaming
awaken
its shimmering light
engulfed me
prying open my stubborn eyes
in the onyx
darkness
its silver glow
enticed me outside
i stood silent
whilst glistening dewdrops
danced on my toes
a sterling lunar crescent
enlightening midnight
softly
serenades
me
wake up
life’s a trance
you’re
hypnotized
mesmerized
in an ocean of emptiness
i heard
a celestial orb
calling
and ne’er slept again
©2016janetaylor
May 22, 2016
May 22, 2016 at 7:23 AM UTC
Love is patient
Love is gentle and kind
True Love is never near-sighted or blind
It never boasts
It never brags
It doesn't matter
If your in riches or rags
Love is not rude
It does not say, "Me!, Me!, Me!"
When two become one its, "We!, We!, We!"
Love is not easily angered
It keeps no records of ugly words & wrongs
It only cries out, "How Can We Make It Strong!"
It does not dance with darkness
But serenades the light
To grow stronger is its only appetite
Love always protects
Always hopes and trust
True Love, will never rot or rust
It always perseveres
Through life's storms of thorns & nails
Because, True Love Never Fails.
By Buddy Williams
Sep 28, 2010
Sep 28, 2010 at 10:21 PM UTC
Her hair was painfully black and strong enough to end wars with
Her eyes reminded men of the sea
Just as intimidating as intriguing
And she would sing her serenades to the moon
And they would break their necks just to stare at her
This goddess trapped on earth
Poor Medusa
All she wanted was to be loved
Mar 19, 2015
Mar 19, 2015 at 4:43 AM UTC
Friday marches in.
Trumpets playing serenades.
Nearly last weeks end.
Banners flying high.
It's five o clock or there abouts.
Hark,
Delighted squeals and shouts.
Buildings locked, off we trot.
To the station, week forgot.
Saturday descends with her restful smile.
Chill at home just for a while.
Wake up in the early hours.
In dream state panic.
Forgot the day.
Thought work was calling me today.
Realise it's Saturday.
Turn over.
Drift back off to sleep.
Sunday morn.
A sleepless night.
Woke up at seven.
Coffee on.
Then it dawned on me.
The weekend's nearly gone.
Make the most of Sabbath day.
Monday's coming anyway.
When back to work.
Off I'll trot.
Satisfied sort of with my lot.
I truly hope Sunday doesn't fly to fast.
Sunday waiting for Monday is never a blast!
By ladylivvi1
© 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)
Sep 29, 2013
Sep 29, 2013 at 4:18 AM UTC
I frequent a little taco stand
Every time that I'm out west
With Elvis behind the counter
Dressed in his leathers best
Janice Joplin doing dishes
With Southern Comfort breath
Arguing with fry cook Jim Morrison
Over the best way of cheating death
Jimi Hendrix works the tables
That they have set up out front
Recommending the mushroom taco
With the psychedelic crunch
Marilyn Monroe...the entertainment
Nightly serenades the gents
While wearing here favorite T-shirt
Bobby Kennedy for president
I highly recommend the little taco stand
If you ever find yourself out West
Who's going to show up to take your order that day
Could be anybody's guess
Aug 14, 2013
Aug 14, 2013 at 7:51 AM UTC
pretty new blooms!
don't fear the ants
they are not who ***** you worst.
their bites will come
and their bites will go
but in the end, they will only take the bitter sap of you
and let your petals unfurl.
no no, do not fear them
but draw tight against the frost
who sings sweet serenades in the moonlight
and clings to you come morning
this insidious beast
will freeze your cells
and let them burst
letting that pretty pink soul
come flowing out
less sharp than mandibles
more of a constant tug
a pull
a yank
a collapse of self
do not fear the ants!
fear the long lasting dread!
and oh,
fear the cold
Sep 22, 2014
Sep 22, 2014 at 11:21 PM UTC
Stretching and shouldering night away a sun crouches
to birth black's ousting
by one more empty circle of dark's hollowed pouches
then outs in sparkling showers.
Spangled with myriad star-labour unfolding membranes,
like numberless leaves
dreamers listen to soft serenades as the universe favours
lullaby-songs to deep breathing.
Silvered surface shivers with night-eyes as glittery dust
follows with dart-swift
flight each soul's winged journey while murmuring such
mysteries to those sleeping still.
Glimmers on sightless horizon reveal light's celebration
while untrodden dew
newly writhing in close-capped life waits inertia's frame
stirring to shake before rising.
Piercing the brain time's needle regathers worn threads
and remembers that more
sown seed means now-grown grain needs re-collection
in daylight's mind-aware storage.
Open-eyed, naught is over as hinging on less or more,
sun, with slumber done,
now hurries to open the thin partition between yawns
of torpidity to more hours won.
Mar 4, 2017
Mar 4, 2017 at 5:12 PM UTC
Warm colors in the sky,
The burnt amber reminded me of your eyes.
A beautiful prize,
That I can't summarize.
As my gaze curiously wanders to yours,
Caught those gemstones looking into mine enticed.
With our sights aligned,
The sun kisses the ocean its goodbyes.
As the serene waves serenades the sun,
Pulling our heartstrings on a run.
As the dusk,
Melted into the ocean blush.
There,
Your rosy cheeks.
Brighter than any sunset,
Melted mine into a smile.
Jan 17, 2022
Jan 17, 2022 at 2:33 PM UTC
I frequent a little taco stand
Every time I'm out in the Mid-West
With Elvis behind the counter
Dressed in his leather best
Janice Joplin doing the dishes
With enchilada breath
Arguing with the fry cook Jim Morrison
Over the best way of cheating death
Jimi Hendrix works the tables
That they have set up out front
Recommending the mushroom taco
With the psychedelic crunch
Marilyn Monroe...the entertainment
Nightly serenades the gents
Wearing her favorite T-shirt
Bobby Kennedy for president
I highly recommend the little taco stand
If you ever find yourself out West
Who's going to show up to take your order that day
Could be anybody's guess...
Aug 8, 2013
Aug 8, 2013 at 6:14 PM UTC
Deep in the bottle,
where even the strongest minds fizzle,
perspective sways softly
and judgment is cutting
deep into submission
of stupor and stumble,
a profound lack of commitment
nodded off in the chair.
Wishing away
today and tomorrow,
but shadows can be patient
and wait for the dark.
The lump on the couch,
he bristles with anger,
fed whiskey and Winston’s
to dull those sharp cravings
for death ever-lasting,
for abyssal release.
You left the lump breathing,
withdrew your attention
to his core care and feeding;
you’ve taken to singing
serenades to the sleeping,
but memories keep bleeding,
that puncture your tincture;
for that lump is your fixture
of regret and remorse.
The lump does not whimper
until shadows are long,
the reruns on TV run into
the screaming of your song;
the drum solo hammers
on tomb-like front door;
a concert, just for husband and you;
the social worker’s knocking;
whatever will you do?
Oct 9, 2011
Oct 9, 2011 at 12:24 PM UTC
****** Escapades & Moonlight Serenades,
The Crystal Apparitions In Her Sanctified Masquerade,
Paper Trails Breathing Under Water,
Out From The Ember, Her Seductions Conquer,
Silhouettes Of Her Castle Clouds,
Injecting Primal Instincts Out Loud,
Eleven Summers In Her Pseudo Emotive Desires,
Holographic Afterlights & Freezing Fires.
Twilight Light Bulbs Under The Liquid Nights,
****** Openings Of Her Sensory Delights,
Unfettered Mythomania & Kaleidoscopic Highs.
****** Verses Scattering Light.
Divine Impulses & Rainbow Divinity,
Spellbound Chaos In Her Dilated Virginity,
Intimate Enigmas Veiled In Shades Of Insanity,
Makeshift Empathy Resonating Sympathy,
Animated Specters Reflecting Crimson Streams,
Oceans Tides Pulsating In Her Silent Screams,
Static Reveries Of Her Cryptic Demise,
Textured Amplifications Emanating Chronic Lies.
- 03:04AM -*
Mar 19, 2017
Mar 19, 2017 at 5:40 PM UTC
lyrical rhymes, beats in epic time
dance around ten times the dime
that's beats per minute, 100 plus
wonderful noises reminiscent of us
dark poets sing of ravens and owls
while I sing of roars and howls
serenades in escalades, roll down the powershades
Dubstep beat-drops, guitar string heart-throbs
all of them blast through my Skullcandy's
dance the dance of wine and brandy
drunken and wild and not so mild
spark animal instincts, to hunt and mate
mangled sheets and broken beds
lie below the newlyweds
as the saxophone and trombone
softly sweep around their home
Deadmau5, Skrillex and Nero
party hard to Guitar Hero
while I slave over my laptop
listening to the beat drop.
Mar 12, 2013
Mar 12, 2013 at 12:05 AM UTC
Sensual by Aphrodite gift
Crafted by serenades
Beauty carved by the finest blade
Hazel diamond shades
It’s often said, weakness for elegant grace
Drives the loveliest man insane
Deprived to be nocturnal
Sleepless nights
Cursed in vain
Any man to have you…
Thorns of pain that feels eternal
Magnificently a breath taker by divine
Hallucination of the fibbed eye
To tell such lies
Rhythm of the velvet heart
Harmonies sung so peacefully & softly
Spirits are drawn together
Like two alabaster doves
Loving each other daily & nightly
Ever the moment
Hug you dearly
Love you
Like no God can ever imagine
Look me in the eyes
Can’t we just make life happen?
Lonesome heart
One failure after another
Misunderstood compassion
Misconception for love is lost
Despite of my action
Empty like deep space
Searching from dream & reality
For the sweetest taste
Asking question from the wise Oracle
Will my heart ever find a mate?
Echo’s from the cryptic name
Reminiscing in the hollow mind
Close your eyes
This is all a daze
Smoke with delusional haze
Crossing paths…
Can’t across the maze
Forbidden until time fades…
Grab both your hands
Maybe the next lifetime
Where daylight shows its beauty rays…
Never in all the life times had I lived
Time and century
From one past to present
The future blooms
From the tiniest seed
That grows life
To where our souls might cross one day
In the sphere
Of Gaia
Green plants from the beautiful ground
Blue skies
Surrounded by the beautiful white angel
Look after her soul
Protect her from who they once stole
Care for her
For she brings heart & soul
As the story goes,
The weak & the needy
Dream for no blackheart
Shot by the arrow that purges
Life
Love each other
Never fall apart
As the sunset sets
Silhouettes of the appealing moon
Dream I’ll soon…
Privileged to have created a night
A sea of enjoyment
From the one dream
Failure to grasp beauty
Until now
As if kismet intended to be…
Love each day
As if it’s your last
For one day
Maybe we could lie in the grass
Consume life
For all it’s glory
One day will write a story
If not now
Then a lifetime is worth waiting
Jan 25, 2013
Jan 25, 2013 at 4:23 AM UTC
<•>
BusBusNYC (A Live Love Bus App)
•<>•
if you made it this far, so fare one,
be undressed with thyself and impressed as well,
for thou joints me in holy matrimony upon a living map
where our presences can meet
in virtual real time as if eye new what that meant
but that blue dot is where this body possessed can be located by the nearest satellite finger snaking down from the heavens to Cain mark my foreheads location,
just like on Game of Thrones
don't you desire me, or rather,
the knowledge of mine
whereabouts?
the who of me, that very useful information, can best be
seen moving crosstown on the M72,
which is a mythological bus for in twenty years eye never
seen it come, go, though all its stops clearly marked
see me moving in fits and spurts of bursts of movement,
leaping streets and avenues in a single
unbounded, unstoppable superbus leap
in a city of anonymity where all who walk it streets,
ride the tides of its buses,
all ask a single Job-like question,
regardless of age,
"I am desirable, do you want me?"
eye say the ayes have it,
no,
this is not a great poem
but!
this live bus map app is the dating site ever created by
geeky human cells
alll this virtual meeting possibly leading to coitus
with a stranger while Pandora serenades
with perfect synchronicity, playing and plying us with
Romance for a Violin and Orchestra in F Minor,
a combination musical **** work of
Dvorak-Mehta-Midori
this bus app is
the social media's most immediate,
so meet me on the bus
at Broadway and 86 Street
where our metro cards can be
merged and we will be recognized
as a legal couple(ing)
in the eyes of MTA,
a multi-state agency and be bound in bustrimony
(legally married when riding on a city bus, only)
jeez, a crazy poem, not just, not a good one
but a true tale from the one who rides the buses and only
alights and delights with regaling tales and tellings
of love sortie sorrow maybe tomorrow the busbusNYC
app wil apply itself a smidgen better and
let me love you even with
a good under the hood
bus poem
but!
someday we will,
this, thy poet,
who does desire youalone,
will hijack you and a NYC bus,
and visit the poets from India and
the Great Northwest
won't that be a fabulous poem!
Jul 17, 2017
Jul 17, 2017 at 6:16 PM UTC
Of that cold spring day when our hands froze
Clutching cones of your favorite strawberry ice cream
Of the following warm summer day when my favorite
Chocolate ice cream coated our tongues
Of that day we escaped our classes
And found ourselves held captive
By the soft cherry ice
With nuts on top
Of bubblegum sonnets, of almond praline declarations of love
Of fig and honey serenades
With soft coffee angels singing in the back
And cookie cream cherubs whispering in our ears.
Of the best first taste.
Of the worst last lick.
May 27, 2016
May 27, 2016 at 12:06 PM UTC
Why is this night different
from every other night?
Is it because you are now
here lying in my arms?
The mirage of you conveys beauty
which I have longed for,
you did make me weak
that moment you walked through that door,
and I thought you were not coming back.
The wind serenades us,
trying to elude and forget
the war we had,
leaving every tearful fight,
nonsense arguments,
never-ending quarrels
for the paradise, we yet to have.
I do love you, and I am so sorry,
now I have in my mind
that for every Superman
there is always his kryptonite.
Mar 24, 2012
Mar 24, 2012 at 2:26 AM UTC
Nightingale dances to a union jack's tune
Blonded and bonded to the winter wind's croon
Black leather lost, soul-searching for safe havens
Soothing the streetlight as she serenades,
Healing the moonlight as her honeymoon fades.
In flocks, it is said,
That safety will travel
And numbers protect those that fly,
But the heart, indeed, is a lonely hunter
So land your weary arms in mine.
You can return with the swallows to Capistrano
Or follow the flamingos as they swoon and sail
You can hang onto a hummingbird's heartbeat,
Just wrap me in the wings of this nightingale.
It's the lark, that's true,
That sent me to you -
Nursing the daylight until it flutters then soars,
Nestling the twilight by the hospital doors.
In the dark, it is said
That the truth hangs lower,
And slower move the birds in time
So un-tether from your trembling sadness,
And land your weary arms in mine.
You can sing the songbird's symphony
Or fleece the feathers off a sparrows tail
You can hang onto a hummingbird's heartbeat,
Just wrap me in the wings of this nightingale.
Jul 1, 2013
Jul 1, 2013 at 11:50 AM UTC
The silenced weep on pastel colors
While rainbows pass through windowed thoughts
Deep within my mind is a trail leading to a universe
Stellar happiness draped upon rivers of joy
Going out on a limb, to jump from dreams
Onto pages of hopes written ravishingly
Imagination runs away from me wildly
Remaining intact with its childlike ways
Jumping into puddles of mirages
Swimming in pools of fantasy
Hallucinating on what may come
Imaginary imagery dancing upon moonbeams
Jarred in glass jars held upon windowed shelves
Closing eyes tightly around the glimpses of sweet serenades
While musical tones create beautifully painted canvases
Once blank without any reflection
Mirrored images of the future grants introduction
While paintbrushes meet color tones in seduction
Secluded rendezvous leading into ****** sensation
Alluring lust into temptation, leading away from separation
An everlasting desire of dreams entering reality
When morality grows a deepened mortality
A work of art is born on vacant sheets
As contentment drives on desolate streets
Harmonious melodies playing through radio beats
Creating muffled brightness through dusk’s doorway
Sun shining in through my mind in a magical way
A beginning to a brand new day
Has started, Today!
Apr 9, 2010
Apr 9, 2010 at 2:58 PM UTC
I have an illustrious dream,
want to be Leonard
Cohen's gypsy wife,
he's kissing my lips on
Boogie Street,
impetuously we dance
to the end of love
'til closing time
midst his secret life,
he serenades me with
I'm your man
when we take Manhattan,
bewildered by his poetic beauty there
waiting for the miracle to happen,
a sip of wine, a cigarette
in love we disappear,
here it is, you got me singing
be that dog in heat,
I'll take this waltz and
another please, cause
everybody knows
I hunger for your touch,
his famous blue raincoat
and the dew on my thigh
goes a thousand kisses deep
in the cave at the tip of the lily
with its very own breath of brandy,
slipping into the masterpiece
where Lenny is eternal
Jul 28, 2015
Jul 28, 2015 at 6:50 PM UTC
Left bank beards
in Beat hotel rooms,
a boulangerie breakfast
down the street and to the left,
and for lunch fresh baked bread and brie.
Letters sent home to fathers and mothers
singing sweet serenades of Paris
dressed up in autumn shades,
cheques for the royalties that'll
get them to Belize to write and swoon,
chat up ladies in the early afternoon;
where hotel fees that are treble those in the 5th,
bookshop stalls that'll never be found
another closing-down-establishment myth.
They were climbing with oxygen
long before we came along,
base camp poems written under
floor lamplight right before
the eyes of others.
Jett powered prose and wine in the light
sleight-of-hand punctuation and uptight
editors looking for finer narration.
Jun 28, 2013
Jun 28, 2013 at 3:52 PM UTC
His jazz hymn of praise
And saxophone serenades
The bless'd trinity
Jul 8, 2014
Jul 8, 2014 at 2:27 AM UTC
A bullfrog serenades his mate
With a booming baritone in anticipation to conjugate
Whilst the wind hums softly
Dry leaves rustling incessantly.
Within the vicinity, bees buzz
The air abuzz
With beautiful chirpings from birds
Visiting colorful flowers and buds
For nectaries
Nature’s nitty gritty pleasantries
The wind croons in a haphazard harmony
A bearable monotony
Of sorts
All these are exclusive happenings in exotic resorts.
Oct 30, 2013
Oct 30, 2013 at 3:12 AM UTC