Dramatic Verse (Verse Drama)
Hear the whispers inside
Chanting from long ago
Echoes come and go
Losing time in a soft eternal glow
A beautiful and delicate autumn mountain scene
Dry blue eyes enchanting melodies!
Voices falling from the sky
Rising hymns release ancient demons that cling to the soul
The darkness dwells under gentle moonlight
Ancestors of the Spirit World,
Exposing Indian hands that weave native smoke into the air
Their spirits taunting burrows from the muddy Earth
Moccasin makers rise from underneath
Guardians of dream catchers
Smooth thread from the outer edge, bowing heads.
Luminous gems of ivory,
Chasing a florid kiss.
Through the winds of enchanted drums, voices cry out for rain.
The hollow chimes mesmerize
An ancient rage begins to flare
The spears of the perfumed buffalo skin pierced my senses
Removing the veils that cover my eyes
The hands that cover my ears
Washing the scalp that bleeds on my face
They collect tears from memories of the past.
KINDRED IN EVERY WAY!
Raven silk braids, feathers fall from my hair.
Dancing in a horrid hallucination of Peyote,
Waking up from the “American Dream.”
Holding out my arms, I am free, I can fly.
I AM A BIRD!
And the storm calls to me in ways you'll never understand
A gentle call that urges my soul forth
The lighting guiding a path for my feet to walk
Between the stones and ash of all that once was
I stand in the echoing silence of the rain
It drops down upon my skin like the blessing waters of heaven
Soothing me, lifting the weight from my body
I feel at once as if I am home
Standing amid two dimensions
Caught between two skies - here and there
The night wraping around me in warmth
The gentle wind lifting me off my feet
Drops from the clouded moon washing away my body
and I am left just a soul, an essence
The storm calls me forth from beneath my roof
Beckoning me into its depth
I stand among the reeds in the basin
They dance and sway as if welcoming me
And I sway with them back
Caught up in the power that charges the air
That threatens to sweep me away
If the ground will just loosen its hold
The thunder rumbles a low welcoming growl
And I get pleasently lost within it
I am so small compared to its vastness
I close my eyes and succumb to the skies wishes
Rising higher until my feet no longer touch the ground
My fingertips touch the liquid color of the stars
A sigh drifts from my lips
There is no need of thought to stay afloat
There is no demand to breathe in air
No crushing weight upon my chest
As my lungs struggle to survive
There are no struggles here
I make my bed on blackened clouds
And give in to the call
The storm has claimed me as its own
It was such a struggle to stay upon the ground
When the storm would call me home
There's something unspecific about the autumn nights
A certain shade of color that uplifts my inner child's eyes
Beside a cashmere moon Venus and Jupiter shine bright
Complimented by a sea of blinking infinite twilight
The scent of burning oak lingers in the air from home made fires
Reminiscent of a time when this man was just a child
Careless and so free to dream and any dream to live
Like feathers floating across a field carried by the wind
As a gentle breeze blows through the leaves shivering delightful gloom
Unlike flowers of springtime the disheveled autumn vibrance bloom
Leaves crackle beneath my feet along the skeleton tree path
Where I try to find my peace or a song to make me laugh
The air is so much crisper and also soothing when I breathe it in
Underneath a starry sky and brighter constellations of Heaven
Amidst the trail I pass a lovely couple holding hands
While their children run aside frolicking in a playful dance
An old man and his wife admire the view from a wooden bench
With smiles on their face as if nostalgia is still their closest friend
Its these specific autumn affects that bring me sorrows and joy
Reminding me of all theses things Ive wanted as a man since I was a little boy
Its times like these that I wish I wasn't always so alone
Because I would light an fire with my family and call it home
A thorough yield
On a farm field of far east
It took me time to realize
How far I am to my far east of coast
Call of my weather
Call of my winds
I sailed further and farther
To my naked coasts
Naive songs, Nimble rains
Nile of rivers, Nascent clouds
Reaching this far
I kissed my earth
Ground of my grief
Glory of my ghosts
Glad is those leaves
However scanty they are
Cast is my shadows
No longer they hide
My colors and my figures
They cast numbers on stars
Measure their light
Scope my winters
Scale my summers
Scanty my rains
Scuttle I wish my springs
Now let me see my greens
Their leveling heights
Their leafy gaze
Their spiderly gesture
Their primordial texture
Now let me be slow
In company of my greens
#Poem by +Gokul Alex
I once was like a catipiller young,naive,and new
Always living from my heart not knowing what
else to do.Easy to take advantage of, that is
just the case, people would walk over me
like I was their dirty used up suitcase.
Now I feel a newness coming, like a light
shining from the sky, colors fill my world
and I know I am blooming into a butterfly.
Purple,Pink, Blue and Green I can feel them
flowing through. Colors of the rainbow raising
me into full bloom. Wise and strong I am becoming
My faith leads me where I need to go giving me
insight and wiseness for only me to know.
I have not done this on my own you see
I have been guided by God and Angels
on this Earth. Wise words the wisdom at
it's best comes from a wise lady who
seems to know me best. Lucky, I am
to have her in my life, she always shoots
it straight and tells me like it is, knowing
her words touch my heart and gives me tons of faith..
I feel like flying through the sky or climbing
a tree way up high. I feel like observing the
world just like a brand new butterfly so as I
Bloom I become Anew something unlike the past
Smart and wise beautiful on the inside and outside
a touch of color here a touch of color there
makes me glow and become a beautiful blooming butterfly...
Written By: Christina A McCullouch
so far the days of singing rays
have come to meet their sullen end
twixt nights of joy with hidden ploy
a sweetly tone, they do offend
O gasp! the serpent true must strike
O gasp! the lustful raging psych
whose cares are lost forever long
roaring out, O hear my song!
ideas soon drain, decisions fill
a mind at pace with thoughts that spill
float soundlessly thy solstice chill
the misty seep, foreboding reap
emotions run amok like thieves
for darkly cast, a favored past
along is lain misguided leaves
Through the lonely woods, I may head,
Upon the autumn leaves, I may tread,
At the secluded horizon, I may stare,
And only you, I may see,
In those symphonies of silence,
In those melodies of calmness,
In those euphonies of quietness.
By the silent lake, I may lay,
Till the twilight fades, I may stay,
Then in reclusive silence, I may walk,
And only to you, I may talk,
Through those toungueless emotions,
Through those wordless attachments,
Through those voiceless sentiments.
In the lone meadow, I may wander,
Along the untrodden paths, I may waver,
In companionless seclusion, I may hide,
And only in you, I may find,
The depths of oneness,
The bonds of togetherness,
The cozy feel of coalescence.
In the wilderness of emotions, I may die,
At the merciless daggering, I may sigh,
Through a million wounds, I may bleed,
And only in you, I may seek,
The balm of love,
The warmth of affection,
The heal of inseparability.
Overwhelmed with fear I whispered into the rain
Disarming defenses, Giving in to the gray
Tearing down all of my shelter within my hollowed decay
While this echoing silence gave every tear drop a name
They begin filling the voids with mundane hopes for a change
Heaven will save me from this hell and blue skies will reign
Lazily lay in green grass watching clouds drift away
It's all but a deflated dream now that the colors have changed
My thoughts have become restless noise of uncertainties rearranged
Damning all of my emotions, lies decorated with grace
Now I stand with a hardened heart in the sobering autumn rain
I'm disarmed and defenseless, Giving in to the gray
As we walk like children holding hands , swinging our arms together as we walked slowly through the blanket of the Autumn leaves. The path we walk is as it were never ending .The tall forest trees that lined each side , appeared to funnel off to the distant open sky . Sun now setting leaving a Orange sky that blended with the leaves all about us . That cool evening breeze upon our glowing faces . The whisper of the trees as they swayed in the wind , but the loudest sound of it all was the beating of our hearts . No it was not just the chill of the wind that made our faces glow , it was the love in our hearts that showed. Yes we were children for that moment , full of innocents of a love so pure at heart, a love so true , nothing could tear it apart . A love that memories are made of and dreams that come true .There is nothing so good as the love you have for me and I for you.
The path we walk that seemed to go on forever , was actually our love through out our lives ,as we travel together through it.
The smell of coffee: hot and bitter in the cold winter night
With the rhythm in the left hand and the rhyme in the right,
He wrote a poem in his secret pocket,
A wistful star like a speedy rocket
Ready to leave this planet intense blue
In search of other traces of life anew.
He remembered after mother had died,
In the cold touch ,stalagmites and stalactites cried.
Father and son felt a strong taste for sweets.
As in the sunset, the blind boatman meets
With an awkward touch the water`s ring
But generally they needn`t to eat anything
For a while they rested an extraordinary team:
Father insistently (sometimes boring) told him
All his recollections:childhood,war and the rest…
All muscles and teeth pressed hot, like ice on the crest.
The son learnt them by heart, and later
He would retell them to father, even better…
One was on duty to wash the dishes;
The other tried to follow his wishes…
Their only joy was to read and read and read…
One had to cook at home ,and to bake the bread
In a bread factory:He was happy even when he was sad.
He could recognize each bread: All his loafs were bad.
He was like Chaplin in “New Times”.
He was speaking in figures and rhymes.
He wore a monk beard and father was much more younger.
Looking through the window: grey hunger and anger …
At the weekend, he used to ask his father
About the favourite meal, but rather
He would find a surprise the next day.
Each day was windy winter and grey…
Father had the same touching answer:”Something good”.
In the strange interference ,water and fire ,one was rude.
Solitude was their common friend stealing in like a lizard,
But, in the afternoon they played sweeping their courtyard.
They had leaves in autumn and snow in the winter.
The sky was grey without sun, the clouds were bitter.
Father was counting the leaves, in the old horizon
The son was painting the days ,in the cold horizon.
The war with the falling down leaves fighting hard
With red faces like an inveterate drunkard .
And years after his father met his final hope,
The son would stop in front of the sweets shop ,
Ready to buy recollections as Christmas tree sweets.