Here is a list of Last Commented Sonnet Poems written by members. Read poetry, post your own poems or comments. Poems on these pages are copyrighted © by the authors who entered them. Click here to post a poem.
Her Soft Touch
Soft wool sweater hung loosely on her limbs
Her smile as demure as warm southern seas
Green eyes frothing in slow simmerin' swims
Rose petals falling like leaves in a breeze
Touch me, my bare heart, gently take my hand
Let me lead you in most enchantin' dance
Feet flying as drifts feathers in the wind
Soaring in spirits let's define romance
Let me smell wild lavender on your skin
Feeling, brushing silky sweet close to mine
Growing smiles each tender caressin' grin
Her soft touch... and my heart trembles so fine
So slowly let's dance under swirling stars
Even only in dreams... like sharing ours
Her smile as demure as warm southern seas
Green eyes frothing in slow simmerin' swims
Rose petals falling like leaves in a breeze
Touch me, my bare heart, gently take my hand
Let me lead you in most enchantin' dance
Feet flying as drifts feathers in the wind
Soaring in spirits let's define romance
Let me smell wild lavender on your skin
Feeling, brushing silky sweet close to mine
Growing smiles each tender caressin' grin
Her soft touch... and my heart trembles so fine
So slowly let's dance under swirling stars
Even only in dreams... like sharing ours
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Jan 2013
About this poem:
Inspired by the girl of my dreams......on just another lonely night...searching for her....in my heart....Let's Not Wait
Let's not wait because it doesn't matter
Casting out nets of unbridled desire
Drifting sparks of flickering fire scatter
Risks catching our two lonely hearts on fire
Soft as my fingertips run down your spine
Such loving touch belongs to another
Lying close and so helplessly supine
Our bodies entwined around each other
When only two naked souls seek cover
Safely beyond all that keeps us apart
Holding you close in my arms forever
Feeling against my chest your beating heart
Why deny those feelings we can't defend
What we want we can no longer pretend
Casting out nets of unbridled desire
Drifting sparks of flickering fire scatter
Risks catching our two lonely hearts on fire
Soft as my fingertips run down your spine
Such loving touch belongs to another
Lying close and so helplessly supine
Our bodies entwined around each other
When only two naked souls seek cover
Safely beyond all that keeps us apart
Holding you close in my arms forever
Feeling against my chest your beating heart
Why deny those feelings we can't defend
What we want we can no longer pretend
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Apr 2013
About this poem:
Is there really any good reason to hold back and not love another human being that makes any sense at all? :)A Lavender Sky
Casting light on shortest day my sunrise
Creeping over the top of distant hills
Marvel glowing bands of lavender skies
Quiets the lonesome night and bitter chills
Slowly, drifting, swirling clouds that appear
Their dark, bulging centers bearing more snow
Soft snowflakes fall tumbling down and adhere
Covering and hiding features below
Tell me where the soft gurgling brook went
Its sounds cannot be heard in the valley
Just the hush of dampening snows’ descent
Such long weeks before winter’s finale
Casting eyes upon the first morning light
Lavender skies….such a beautiful sight
Creeping over the top of distant hills
Marvel glowing bands of lavender skies
Quiets the lonesome night and bitter chills
Slowly, drifting, swirling clouds that appear
Their dark, bulging centers bearing more snow
Soft snowflakes fall tumbling down and adhere
Covering and hiding features below
Tell me where the soft gurgling brook went
Its sounds cannot be heard in the valley
Just the hush of dampening snows’ descent
Such long weeks before winter’s finale
Casting eyes upon the first morning light
Lavender skies….such a beautiful sight
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Dec 2013
About this poem:
The sometimes strange colors of our winter skies are truly inspirational and beautiful.The Darkest Rose
Less fear scares me as dark shadows enclose
Under black shroud of a widow's blind-fold
Wearing the scent of summer's darkest rose
Blooms in a lonely field that death foretold
Eyes never drying when tears stop their flow
Nothing is as moist as the mourning dew
Nor stark the color of carrion crows'
Coal black feathers turning purplish-blue
Sick in my grief was love lost in the grave
More vulnerable yet lest I ever dreamed
Continuous fear wearing down depraved
Bitterness cast from the nets unredeemed
May ones' good life be made from what's gone past
Living in sweet dreams that forever last
Under black shroud of a widow's blind-fold
Wearing the scent of summer's darkest rose
Blooms in a lonely field that death foretold
Eyes never drying when tears stop their flow
Nothing is as moist as the mourning dew
Nor stark the color of carrion crows'
Coal black feathers turning purplish-blue
Sick in my grief was love lost in the grave
More vulnerable yet lest I ever dreamed
Continuous fear wearing down depraved
Bitterness cast from the nets unredeemed
May ones' good life be made from what's gone past
Living in sweet dreams that forever last
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Nov 2012
About this poem:
Such is an emptiness now found in the New England woods this time of year. Visting the grave of my mother, this sonnet is very darkly reflective of my suffering a deep loss, followed by a timeless bitter mourning from a death so deeply personal. Perhaps only in our dreams can such sadness be balanced by the celebration of another happier time in life and also with the hope of her eternal love.The Last Bonfire
Under gray billowing clouds the gulls flew
In the bitter wind when first snowflakes grew
Whipped into funnels to the ground they blew
Filling in cracks between the rocks askew
On the horizon a pale dull sun did drop
And the darkness crept up ‘till the shadows
Converged all around when the day did stop
And stars became celestial rainbows
Huddled brave souls near last glowing embers
Within a ring of rocks was set ablaze
On icy shores our lake in November
One last bonfire to cheer the good ol’ days
A peaceful sound when each wave comes ashore
Was life counting the seasons more and more
In the bitter wind when first snowflakes grew
Whipped into funnels to the ground they blew
Filling in cracks between the rocks askew
On the horizon a pale dull sun did drop
And the darkness crept up ‘till the shadows
Converged all around when the day did stop
And stars became celestial rainbows
Huddled brave souls near last glowing embers
Within a ring of rocks was set ablaze
On icy shores our lake in November
One last bonfire to cheer the good ol’ days
A peaceful sound when each wave comes ashore
Was life counting the seasons more and more
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Nov 2013
About this poem:
Reflections of life along the shores of a big freshwater lake, where many years in our youth were like seasons when all would meet together and party around a large bonfire until the end of each season such as when the darkness and ice of winter came.
But to me
I am very fond of birds, but to me,
the dawn chorus is a euphemism
for a loud cacophony of tweeting,
regardless of what species they might be.
I like art when it is skilful, but to me,
the Mona Lisa is a picture of
a woman who just sits there looking smug,
and holds but not a trace of mystery.
I love music when it’s good, but to me,
Imagine is as corny as can be.
The whiteness of John Lennon and that room
lend it absolutely no profundity.
It’s not that I am soulless, but to me,
it seems we see what we are told to see.
the dawn chorus is a euphemism
for a loud cacophony of tweeting,
regardless of what species they might be.
I like art when it is skilful, but to me,
the Mona Lisa is a picture of
a woman who just sits there looking smug,
and holds but not a trace of mystery.
I love music when it’s good, but to me,
Imagine is as corny as can be.
The whiteness of John Lennon and that room
lend it absolutely no profundity.
It’s not that I am soulless, but to me,
it seems we see what we are told to see.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: May 2019
About this poem:
I suppose this is about going along with the crowd and not stopping to question it.My Dream
Last night I fell into a restless sleep,
soon after I’d been clearing out my fridge,
sorting what to throw away and what to keep.
I started dreaming I was walking o’er a bridge.
The path I trod soon led me to a street,
whose pavements were all packed and thronged with folk.
I was only wearing slippers on my feet.
The people stared and laughed as if that was a joke.
I saw a row of shops all in a line.
I ran toward them, tripping o’er my slippers.
And there, on a shop window, was a sign
which said, we will buy your date-expired kippers.
And as the grip of sleep began to soften,
I resolved to clear my fridge out much more often.
soon after I’d been clearing out my fridge,
sorting what to throw away and what to keep.
I started dreaming I was walking o’er a bridge.
The path I trod soon led me to a street,
whose pavements were all packed and thronged with folk.
I was only wearing slippers on my feet.
The people stared and laughed as if that was a joke.
I saw a row of shops all in a line.
I ran toward them, tripping o’er my slippers.
And there, on a shop window, was a sign
which said, we will buy your date-expired kippers.
And as the grip of sleep began to soften,
I resolved to clear my fridge out much more often.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Apr 2019
About this poem:
We should listen to our dreams.
You gotta love him.
My lover's eyes are crossed, wave to and fro,
His nose, an ogre's ridge, much to the fore,
I send him out each day and hope he'll go
And not come back 'till this lifetime is o'er.
His skin is dire and pitted like a grid,
Wild hair all matted as a rabid dog,
Great forehead huge, yet pea-sized in the id
And voice that would offend a deafened frog.
To his ablutions he won't give a fig.
He reeks of cat's pee and of fouled roe, fried.
His fingernails would be just cause to dig,
Yes, on his stinking clothes fleas catch a ride!
Yet forged in his intent to spare the rod,
A caring heart, that plain, was wrought of God
His nose, an ogre's ridge, much to the fore,
I send him out each day and hope he'll go
And not come back 'till this lifetime is o'er.
His skin is dire and pitted like a grid,
Wild hair all matted as a rabid dog,
Great forehead huge, yet pea-sized in the id
And voice that would offend a deafened frog.
To his ablutions he won't give a fig.
He reeks of cat's pee and of fouled roe, fried.
His fingernails would be just cause to dig,
Yes, on his stinking clothes fleas catch a ride!
Yet forged in his intent to spare the rod,
A caring heart, that plain, was wrought of God
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Nov 2018
About this poem:
It's not about what's on the outside.That thing you want to try
This illustration of that thing you want to try,
are you absolutely sure it can be done?
It looks awfully tricky to my untrained eye,
I can’t imagine why you think it might be fun.
It’s not because I’m getting old and fat,
and confidence in my body that I lack,
but a gymnast would have trouble doing that,
and you know that I have problems with my back.
Just look at the position of this leg,
relative to the placement of the other.
And, my dearest one, your pardon I must beg,
but if you do that with my face I think I’ll smother.
So please remove this idea from your head,
let’s have a cup of tea and watch TV instead.
are you absolutely sure it can be done?
It looks awfully tricky to my untrained eye,
I can’t imagine why you think it might be fun.
It’s not because I’m getting old and fat,
and confidence in my body that I lack,
but a gymnast would have trouble doing that,
and you know that I have problems with my back.
Just look at the position of this leg,
relative to the placement of the other.
And, my dearest one, your pardon I must beg,
but if you do that with my face I think I’ll smother.
So please remove this idea from your head,
let’s have a cup of tea and watch TV instead.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Apr 2019
About this poem:
Don’t drop me in it
Don’t drop me in it if you see my wife,
don’t tell her where you saw me yesterday.
I know you wouldn’t want to cause me strife,
and if you told her, there’d be hell to pay,
I wasn’t doing anything improper,
but even so, she wouldn’t understand.
Once she starts there is no way to stop her.
When she loses it things soon get out of hand.
I am aware of how it looked and what you’re thinking,
but what you thought it was, well it was not
No doubt you just assumed that I’d been drinking
when you thought you saw me doing you know what.
I’m glad we’ve had this chance to sort this out,
and that my side of the story has been put.
So now you know there’s nothing to make a fuss about,
I’m relying on you to keep your big mouth shut.
So thanks a lot for this, you won’t regret it.
Oh, and that twenty quid you owe me, let’s just forget it.
don’t tell her where you saw me yesterday.
I know you wouldn’t want to cause me strife,
and if you told her, there’d be hell to pay,
I wasn’t doing anything improper,
but even so, she wouldn’t understand.
Once she starts there is no way to stop her.
When she loses it things soon get out of hand.
I am aware of how it looked and what you’re thinking,
but what you thought it was, well it was not
No doubt you just assumed that I’d been drinking
when you thought you saw me doing you know what.
I’m glad we’ve had this chance to sort this out,
and that my side of the story has been put.
So now you know there’s nothing to make a fuss about,
I’m relying on you to keep your big mouth shut.
So thanks a lot for this, you won’t regret it.
Oh, and that twenty quid you owe me, let’s just forget it.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Posted: Apr 2019
About this poem:
Men, what are they like?
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