Tag Archives: #poem

The Waning Sun

I dreamed a dream, yet was it purely so?

The sun, once fierce, had dimmed its vibrant glow,
And every star in ceaseless darkness roamed,
Aimless, lightless, from their pathways home.
The frigid earth, in distant shadows veiled,
Spun blindly in the abyss where the moon had paled.
Daybreak stirred, yet brought no dawn, no light,

And all mankind, consumed by despair’s chilling blight,
Forgot their passions in this bleak, forgotten fight.
All hearts turned ice, their warmth a forgotten trait,
Praying selfishly for dawn, to break the night’s cruel weight.

By fire’s meager light, they clung to fleeting life,
While thrones and kings burned bright, fueling their strife.
Cities crumbled, and the people in huddled throngs,
Gathered ’round their flickering fires, steeling against wrongs,
Those fortunate bathed in the volcanic blaze’s might,

For all the world was but a canvas of terror and spite.
Forests blazed, and hour by hour, the blackened night
Crept, casting all within its inky, endless blight.
Men’s faces, touched by uncertain firelight,

Wore an eerie, ethereal, phantom-like sight.

Some shed tears, others laughed with harrowing might.
And all around, the world crumbled to the dust.
Birds quaked, beasts shook with primal, raw fear,
And serpents hissed, but all in vain, as they drew near

To perish by those hands they once held dear.
War, paused briefly, rekindled its blood-soaked delight,
Feasting on the land, tallying each gruesome fight,

As all love fled from the earth’s barren, lifeless sight.
Famine ruled, and each living thing
Preyed upon the flesh of dying, the macabre’s sickening ring,
Until bones and flesh became but relics

Lost to time and the tale of future epochs.
Even dogs turned on masters in desperate plea,
Yet one loyal beast remained faithful, ever free,
Guarding his fallen lord, casting aside his needs,

Against the ghastly throng, his loyalty indeed,
Of beasts and men, until at last, he gave his life,
A pitiful, plaintive cry, loyal in the face of strife,
Licking the hand of his silent master, lost in strife.

The crowd thinned, and yet only two survived,
Two foes, who met beside an unhallowed shrine,
Gathering sacred relics for a profane sign,
Skeletal hands scraped feeble ashes, faces lined,

Exhaling their final breaths to craft a mocking light
That jeered them both, until they saw their shared plight,
And in their terror, they perished, nameless in the night,
For famine had stripped them to a ghastly sight.

The world was barren, void of life’s mark,
A wasteland of hard clay, absent tree or herb,
River, lake, or ocean, all silent and stark,
And rotting ships languished on a lifeless sea, unperturbed.

Masts crumbled, silently into the still sea bound,
And waves lay dormant, while tides slumbered in their graves.
The moon had faded, and winds lay unfettered, unbound,
As clouds perished, leaving nothing in their wake to save

The world from darkness, for she was the universe,
And in her shroud of night, no life left to converse.

:: 24.06.2023 ::


ENCHANGED MELODIES: A NUTCRACKER’S FLIGHT

In a realm of dreams, where magic takes flight,
Dancing through wonder, bathed in soft moonlight,
A symphony unfolds, enchanting to the ear,
A timeless tale that all hearts hold dear.

Oh, behold the Nutcracker’s grand debut,
A whimsical overture, a captivating view,
Notes pirouette, swirling in the air,
As melodies whisper secrets, beyond compare.

From the Land of Snow, where cold winds blow,
A waltz of snowflakes, in graceful flow,
Each delicate flake, a diamond in flight,
Glistening and sparkling, in the wintry night.

Then, to the realm of sweets, we find our way,
Through the Kingdom of Sweets, where joy holds sway,
Sugarplum fairies twirl in colorful delight,
Their delicate feet gliding, pure and light.

Marzipan candies come alive, dancing in glee,
Flutes and trumpets, in harmonious spree,
Chocolates and bonbons join the sweet parade,
A confectionary spectacle, none can evade.

Amidst this tapestry of dance and song,
A tale of courage unfolds, bold and strong,
A Nutcracker, transformed by a magic spell,
Leading Clara on a journey, where wonders dwell.

They meet the Mouse King, in a battle fierce,
Clara’s bravery shines, her heart to pierce,
The Nutcracker triumphs, the spell is broken,
A victory celebrated, words unspoken.

In this Nutcracker Suite, a world unveiled,
A symphony of dreams, where reality is veiled,
Immerse in the melodies, let your spirit take flight,
And behold the magic of this enchanting night.

:: 01.01.2000 :


SLAVES TO ANNIHILATION

INSIDE the mind resides unwritten, unsung unworldly laws

—the dust meets the dirt the flesh releasing blood ;

a propensity of the circle called Life.

how we try and kill it all away only to remember
everything said, seen, felt and done has universal
purpose.

Oh sweet One how everyone climbs the walls

reaching for it all only to find it mud then we slide down.

We wear a crown of imprisoned madness
as most to never again feel a thing.

and we never break away because we’re alone

Each month, season, decade, century

we remove all that empire we call

humanity.

Once a ghost now hallucinations are more alive.

That we dreamt everywhere now just slaves

to annihilation.

:: 03.16.2022 ::

Poet’s Notes:

The opening line creates a space of introspection, suggesting that our mind is a place of “unwritten, unsung unworldly laws.” This could be interpreted as our innate sense of morality or the unspoken rules and norms that govern our thinking and behavior.

The line “the dust meets the dirt the flesh releasing blood” can be seen as a symbol of mortality and the inevitability of death, a theme which is often present in existentialist literature. The fact that the dust meets the dirt may reflect the biblical sentiment of ‘from dust we are, to dust we will return’, while the flesh releasing blood could be an image of sacrifice or struggle.

The following phrase “a propensity of the circle called Life” depicts life as a cycle, underlining its repetitive and inevitable nature. The use of the word ‘propensity’ implies an inclination or natural tendency towards this cycle.

The next stanza evokes an image of desperate striving and futile attempts to escape the harsh realities of life. The imagery of people “climbing the walls” only to find “mud” and “slide down” speaks to human ambition and the often disappointing outcome of our efforts. This can be a critique of materialism and the relentless pursuit of success in modern society.

The phrase “We wear a crown of imprisoned madness” is a striking metaphor for the human condition. It suggests a royal burden of insanity, possibly due to the pressures and absurdities of life that we’re forced to bear.

The passage “Each month, season, decade, century / we remove all that empire we call / humanity” implies that over time, we are slowly stripping away our humanity. This may refer to the loss of values, empathy, or our connection to each other and the world around us.

In the line “Once a ghost now hallucinations are more alive,” the transformation of a ghost into a hallucination could symbolize how our fears and worries, initially intangible, can grow to dominate our perception of reality.

The closing phrase “That we dreamt everywhere now just slaves to annihilation” concludes the poem with a sense of fatalism. The word ‘dreamt’ hints at past aspirations and hopes, now reduced to servitude to ‘annihilation’, which could be a metaphor for death, oblivion, or the destructive tendencies of mankind.

Overall, the poem conveys a bleak yet introspective view of human existence, filled with struggle, disillusionment, and existential angst, provoking the reader to consider the cyclical nature of life, the pressures of society, and our own mortality.


BEAUTIFUL WORDS

Abyssopelagic reminds my heart
of lost love at sea
/diaphanous without light\
breaking white and black keys
making melliflouous
waves ~~~~
\meeting quadrivium.

the world of beautiful words.

:: 06.02.2023 ::


Ode to Nothing

When I believe in love that
may never cease to be
the man I am has become me
Before the night has waxed
Before the candle leans forth
I hold upon the temple
a heart who made me my own
grassy knoll sleeps of love
and scents of nature’s romance
is when I feel complete
I have tasted the elixir
of faery power — the unreflected
love of my own happiness
to be just to be
to love and nothingness
is quite the feeling in life


BRAVEST OF WRITER DRINK PROSE

Oh, dearest seeker of linguistic lore,
With ardor I embark on this poetic chore.
In a symphony of syllables, I shall impart
The marvels of English pronunciation, an intricate art.

Listen closely, Jenny, as I guide your way,
Through a labyrinth of sounds that often sway.
I’ll weave a tapestry of words, both bleak and bright,
And together we shall venture into this poetic night.

Corps and corpse, horse and worse,
A quartet of phonetic universe.
Your mind, Jenny, shall dance in dizzying delight,
As I unravel the mysteries, unveiling them to light.

A tear may fall from your sparkling eye,
And a delicate dress may rend with a sigh.
But fear not, for my devotion is true,
I shall suffer alongside you, as this journey ensues.

Now, let us compare heart, beard, and heard,
A triad of words that seem absurd.
Dies and diet, lord and word,
Sword and sward, with caution they must be heard.

Britain, retain, oh mind the way they’re written,
Let not their spelling leave you smitten.
And worry not, I shall not pester you so,
With words like plaque and ague, which bring much woe.

But heed my counsel, speak with utmost care,
For break and steak differ from bleak and streak.
Cloven, oven, how and low,
Script, receipt, show, poem, and toe.

Devoid of trickery, I enunciate,
Daughter, laughter, and Terpsichore, oh so great.
Typhoid, measles, topsails, aisles,
Exiles, similes, and reviles.

Scholar, vicar, and the lingering cigar,
Solar, mica, war, and journeys afar.
Anemone, Balmoral, a touch of grace,
Kitchen, lichen, laundry, laurel, embrace.

Gertrude, German, wind, and thoughts so kind,
Scene, Melpomene, the tapestry of mankind.
Billet does not rhyme with the ballet’s sway,
Nor bouquet, wallet, mallet, chalet’s display.

Blood and flood, they do not align with food,
Mould does not echo should and would.
Viscous, viscount, load, and broad,
Toward, forward, reward, let their harmony applaud.

And when your pronunciation rings clear,
Croquet, a game of leisure, let it appear.
Rounded, wounded, grieve, and sieve,
Friend and fiend, alive and live.

Ivy, privy, famous, clamor’s song,
Enamor rhymes with hammer, strong.
River, rival, tomb, bomb, and comb,
Doll and roll, some and home, find their home.

Stranger, anger, a subtle difference found,
Devour, clangor, their rhymes astound.
Souls and foul, haunt and aunt,
Font, front, wont, want, grand, and grant.

Shoes, goes, does, let them gracefully flow,
Finger, singer, ginger, linger, in succession they show.
Real, zeal, mauve, gauze, gouge, and gauge,
Marriage, foliage, mirage, and age.

Query, very, they don’t mirror each other,
Fury and bury, neither do they smother.
Dost, lost, post, doth, cloth, and loth,
Job, nob, bosom, transom, oath.

Seemingly small, these differences stand,
Actual and victual, hand in hand.
Refer and deafer, they part ways,
Feoffer, zephyr, a gentle breeze conveys.

Mint, pint…

:: 06.01.2023 ::


I SEE BLUE WAVES UPON THE OCEAN’S SOUL

I

Whence does the self emerge, as I unbind from the glacial bloom?
What adoration lingers within that feminine reverie’s realm?
In love’s force, betwixt ecstasy’s embrace,
Where his palm parts the captured gull,
Unconscious eyes disclose intricate tales,
Veiling existence’s essence, that which conceals.

II

I hold affinity for all that resides,
Shadowy whispers of quotidian nourishment,
A vessel’s wake, fading into oblivion’s grasp.

‘Tis the tremor of the abyss, embracing abundance,
A woman donning stockings of ethereal velvet.

Arrange, we must, the waves, diverse and arrayed,
The melancholy, thou embodiment,
Or one who, world idolized, ventures forth,
Knees adorned with wings, poised mid passion’s flight,
Within love’s central day,
I shall never deceive, but embrace entirety’s plight.
Freedom, mine, in its cruelest form,
Behold the insular artistry,
Where danger finds solace, its taste revered.

Love, the transgressor of societal norms,
Customs yet to be acquired, in anticipation we wait,
Love, exalted, with all its rightful claims,
And the ever-transforming world,
Glimpsed through kaleidoscopic gazes, each day anew.

:: 05.21.2023 ::


A Chance of Nature and Amusement

THE procession slowly moved in just-
ly attire; A COPHINUS occasioned
by wooden wheels
& solid beasts with a faire
amoretic group of ladies
joking about sprouting third
legs; but beast or not it left some
mouths agape ~
as others watering
& finally to his resting place
the elderly one was put to peace!

Poet’s Notes:

I would begin by noting the powerful use of imagery in this poem. The opening lines immediately draw the reader into a scene of solemnity and dignity, as a procession moves slowly by in appropriate attire. The use of the word “COPHINUS” adds a sense of antiquity and tradition to the scene, while the reference to wooden wheels and solid beasts suggests a sense of weight and gravitas.

The juxtaposition of this dignified scene with the humorous image of the ladies joking about sprouting third legs creates a sense of playfulness and irreverence, adding depth and complexity to the poem. The image of mouths agape and watering creates a sense of contrast between the solemnity of the occasion and the natural human response to beauty and desire.

The final lines of the poem bring a sense of closure and resolution, as the elderly one is laid to rest. There is a sense of finality and acceptance, as well as a recognition of the cycle of life and death. The use of the phrase “put to peace” suggests a sense of release and a return to a state of calm.

Overall, this poem demonstrates a keen awareness of the power of language to create vivid images and evoke complex emotions. The use of imagery and wordplay adds depth and nuance to the poem, while the underlying themes of tradition and mortality lend a sense of universality to the work. As a poet laureate, I would recognize this poem as a masterful example of the art of poetry.


Marsh Marigold

A melting clock dripping into a pool of clear tears,
stinging like saltwater drops shed by sad children.
A towering sun assaulted by the whiteness of women’s bodies,
as if they were melting into the skies as distorted forms within dreams.

i need no sympathy. The wind blows ~~ upon this cold night.

A mass of silk and lilies, cascading like several rainbows of color
and patterns colliding overlaping like abstract paintings
We all carry on like nothing really matters /no need no sympathy
A lone figure defending a wall, with colors and shapes of surroundings
melting and morphing into fantastical forms that defy logic.

Angels dancing within dizzying swirls of light and shadows, with their wings
transforming into fluid and organic shapes that blend into the surreal landscape.

Sometimes, yes, sometimes I wish I have had no body at all.

A golden current flowing with dark, tired arms that move with cool and calm rhythms,
while colors of surroundings blend into a vibrant green.
Oh moma, i fear the dark spaces and my skin glows with unknown energy!

A somber figure standing beneath a canopy of blue sky, surrounded by curtains
that transform into arches and hills that meld into the abstract landscape.
Oh, the glistening surface holds such surreal bubbles!
A liquid of deep, pale gold blankets the beds made by fate:

The little girls’ green and faded dresses morph into willows,
from which birds without reins flee, into the vast unknown.
Purer than gold, a yellow eyelid blinks with warmth,
marsh marigold – a symbol of your married faith, O Bride! –

At the stroke of noon, from its dull mirror, jealousy rises
As the rose-colored sphere glows with love: gray heat fills the sky.

:: 05.07.2023 ::

Analysis:

The first stanza presents a series of surreal images, including a melting clock, clear tears, and distorted forms. These images suggest a sense of timelessness and fluidity, as well as a feeling of sadness or loss. The second stanza introduces the idea of abstraction and the blending of colors and patterns, which creates a sense of chaos and confusion.

The third stanza presents the idea of angels and their wings, which transform into fluid and organic shapes that blend into the surreal landscape. This image suggests a sense of freedom and transcendence, as well as a feeling of disorientation and uncertainty.

The fourth stanza introduces the idea of fear and unknown energy, which creates a sense of tension and unease. The fifth stanza presents a somber figure standing beneath a canopy of blue sky, surrounded by curtains that transform into arches and hills that meld into the abstract landscape. This image suggests a sense of isolation and introspection, as well as a feeling of wonder and beauty.

The sixth stanza presents the idea of a golden current flowing with dark, tired arms that move with cool and calm rhythms, while colors of surroundings blend into a vibrant green. This image suggests a sense of renewal and growth, as well as a feeling of harmony and balance.

The seventh stanza introduces the idea of fate and its mysterious workings, which creates a sense of uncertainty and awe. The final stanza presents the image of a marsh marigold, which symbolizes married faith and suggests a sense of hope and commitment.

Overall, “Marsh Marigold” is a powerful and thought-provoking poem that uses rich and evocative language to explore a range of complex themes and emotions.


I Should Love Then I Shall Die

A heart once filled with love and hope,
Now lays shattered, broken and alone,
The pain and sadness, it cannot cope,
For all that’s left is a heart of stone.

Lost love, the death of a loving heart,
The tears fall like raindrops in the dark,
The memories of what once was,
Now only echoes of a love lost.

Once a light shone bright and true,
In this heart that beat for you,
But now it’s gone, forevermore,
Leaving behind an empty core.

Lost love, the death of a loving heart,
The tears fall like raindrops in the dark,
The memories of what once was,
Now only echoes of a love lost.

The pain, it cuts so deep inside,
A wound that time cannot hide,
The love that once filled this heart,
Now torn apart, forever to depart.

Lost love, the death of a loving heart,
The tears fall like raindrops in the dark,
The memories of what once was,
Now only echoes of a love lost.

As this heart beats its final breath,
It knows that love can bring both life and death,
And though it may never love again,
It will always remember what it once had been.

:: 05.03.2023 ::