Everlasting's Poems :)

Please comment below with your favourite poem out of the following 3! Thank you xx

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#1
TITLE: A Waltz Amongst The Stars

I met you in a crowded room,
as crowded as the closet in my bedroom,
With jeans and blouses
of different colors and sizes,
Just as my shoes, not worn out,
even after years of being worn.
We bumped onto each others shoulders.
You seemed older. No, you were older.
Yet you looked just as my wardrobe:
tailored fit, designed specially for me.

There's no doubt, it was love at first sight
between the dance floor and the night.
Though, the margarita must have kicked my spirit
a little higher than the sky's limit
because I thought your pupils were the moon
dilating as I got closer:
a little bright . . .
a littler brighter than the room's lights,
yet somehow, I knew your voice
was the music asking me to waltz
amongst the stars.

And I followed,
I followed the rhythm of your hands
guide me
to the corner of the bar

to then tried
to undressed myself out of your grasp
only to realized
you were not my perfect fit

you were
six sizes bigger
of a jerk

than

I could ever wear.

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#2
TITLE: The Calling OF Your Name

In the meadows, winds call your name;
listen to them clearly as trees rustle their leaves in anguish,
and as ravens croak their flight to silence.

Can you hear the turmoil in their breeze?

They scamper around flowers and grasses;
they head for the city in search of you. Listen to them,
listen to them clearly as forests sibilate for shelter
while smoke fills the lung of their homes.

Meanwhile,

Can you hear the terror in the raven's flight?

They flutter their wings in chaos while winds push them away from torment.
They resist to seek for safety as their eyes startles in their hearts a vision
that men will not listen to the wind's crisis.

Can you hear the resistance in their wings?

----

You see, now a days, rivers stream the blood of our brothers.
We bathe in sin. We drink its waters until all of our ancestor's diseases
run in our veins. So all the wind can do, it's call for your name.

Can you hear the wind's lament?

In the cities, a few women cry themselves to sleep. They weep agony
to their dreams in hope to extinguish the flame of reality, but instead
they awake to an inferno every single day.

Can you hear the calling of your name?

I hear it, I hear it every day. I hear it in the subway, in the streets, at church.
I hear it everywhere. They call your name in prayers. In supplications,
they plea for help.

How then will you hear the Wind's lament?

If I've been told that fire burns till hunger is fed, that all remnants are but dust
of a fresh start, and that it doesn't matter how many tears are shed
hunger will always be a part of a man's heart.

So I ask, How will you hear the wind's lament?

If fire burns till hunger is fed, If winds with their touch
spread flames unconsciously, and if it doesn't matter whether it feels hot
men will not see a fire unless they see smoke.

So I ask you, how will you?

if I've been told that men can starve to death, and that it doesn't matter
how many times they call your name, you will always listen and reply
to the calling of your name just by men

----

But men are blind and deaf; they speak because they can
but they do not see nor hear anything other than themselves.

---

The poor winds, they search for you while on the roads
they spread the meadow's fire, not knowing the cities burn in darkness
and that soon they will burn in a living hell.

Unless men listen to the calling of their names
Unless they listen to the calling of nature's plea for help.

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#3
TITLE: Deserted Town - of the Living

i

at midnight
her red 5-inch heels
stab psychedelically
each cobblestone
of the bleak street

ii

[ Click - Clack ]

her steps hypnotizes
mothers, at every home,
to sleep
as fathers - spellbound
by her stride -
watch through broken,
closed shutters,
her calves
rebound
to the full moon silhouetted
on the ground.

iii

Soon

front doors
slam open

And terror,
in the entire neighborhood,
starts to reverberate
on worn out wood
as children seek shelter
under their mother's bed.

iv

Within seconds,
a sultry crimson dress
manifests
simultaneously
at each marital room,

alluring fathers-
with a lavishing port,
to turn their beds
into a cemetery
for the living.

vi

Mothers awake screaming

to the sight of pale children
speaking
the language of the unborn.

Their words are yet to give birth
to traumatic scene

of

The Spectrum of the Winding Street.

Number One is my choice. I like the comparison and use of "the clothes closet" to show a beginning love and how over time we outgrow it and then come to the realization that it never fit in the first place. Nice work on this one.

I also like number one. The title drew me in and the poem had me stay :D

The best poem i read recently #1

I do like them all and think they have different qualities that are really great, but I agree with the rest, #1 is the best.

I agree with everyone, number 1 is the best :-D

#2 for me! Like the way you ask questions for every new stanza

Thank you everyone.

I actually agree with Amy - I do think number 1 is your best to read, the flow etc, but I like the idea of number #2 and the way you use questions, I like that in poetry, although sometimes it does make the flow a bit patchy.

Oh, well,
you welcome
as well as
job well done.

So, be well

This is so hard to choose, but I would say #1. It did read well and have this powerful presence. I think all three poems have different styles... #2 does ask more questions and possibly written more prose-like? Whereas #3 is dark, visual, and stark with images of the mother/children.

Re 1: Gives a harsh lesson with mixed metaphor but it works well.
"Just as my shoes" might better read "Just like my shoes"
+
"just as my wardrobe: tailored fit"
"just like my wardrobe: tailor-fitted"

2 Although some of the allusions are tumbled to the point of confusion, I like this poem the best. My opinion is just mine, but if you were to soften the mystery just a bit, connect thoughts logically, then I think this would be a world class poem.

3 A bit of the macabre. Interesting to say the least, but I have problems figuring out some of the images, such as the children speaking the language of the unborn. The final pronouncement is anticlimactic unless you presage it with whatever dire consequences resulted.

Thank you Mr. Larry for the suggestions and your opinion.

I'll work on connecting those thoughts on poem #2. ( it will be hard) and I'll also continue working on #3.

#3 is unique in the way it is written. I usually don't come across such layouts, it is still the excellent I feel:)