~ATLANTIS~ Featuring:) Kelly Deschler
Can't be re-written by the Gods
The land and sands of time'
Destroyed by the fire of Poseidon's curse
Atlantis swallowed by: Earth
In one day and one night
Peaceful existence met its end
Built on a volcano, now surrounded by ancient rippled tears
Lava stripped apart the rich and glorious empire
Enriched by Engineers and Architects whom loved power more than the Gods
Forgotten souls, sheltered by a watery grave
History withheld from shallow sunken memories,
Western sky's hide the truth, a vision from the Pillars of Hercules
"An island situated in front of The Strait of Gibraltar"
Ghostly ruins wait to rise above the Mediterranean and Atlantic Waves
A magical island held down by the hands of death,
Atlantis lost city walls ---a secret hidden by mermaids
Partially buried, beneath the ocean floor it lies
The largest sunken treasure never to be found
Magnificent pillars of an imperial palace still stand
Somewhere hidden under ancient sand
Some are leaning against turrets, that toppled after the impact
Nothing human will ever inhabit these walls
No feet will ever touch these staircases, again
Only an eerie silence now resides here, with the blue-green waters
Seaweed grows along it's outer walls, like ivy on a trellis.
Obscuring it even further from the human eye.
Other ocean tides will never compare
Tantalizing blend of fantasy and mystery
Stone walls covered with precious gems
-Listen to PLATO'S voice-
"Look close, Look close, into the sea!"
Through the light and Pillars of Hercules
Some where out there buried in the vast
ATLANTIS THE PARADISE
~A Poet Destroyer Collaboration~
*Note: A 60-year annual tradition that involved a mysterious visitor leaving three
roses at the grave of writer Edgar Allan Poe on the anniversary of his birthday
ended in January 2010. Curators of the Poe House and Museum are at a loss to
explain who left these gifts and why they stopped. On many occasions people kept
vigils near Poe’s grave during this period that began in 1949, but no one ever saw
someone leaving the roses. In the morning, however, they were always on his
grave. Poe is considered the father of the American short story and
his poem The Raven is one of his best known works.
Once upon a midnight dreary, Poe heard a tapping at his window
While grieving the loss of his young bride, a maiden “angels named Lenore,”
A radiant teen whose long, black hair in gentle breezes would billow,
Tapping at the window ceased, but suddenly it was heard at his door
Upon opening it, a Raven flew in repeating, “Nevermore”
At first he welcomed this odd visitor until Poe whispered, “Lenore”
When he heard his word echo, the strange Raven he began to abhor
He asked if he’d see his bride again and the bird replied, “Nevermore”
Though Poe died in eighteen forty-nine, a mystery evolved much later
A century after his death, his grave had an annual visitor
Roses were left on his birthday by someone whose love appeared greater
Who had left these floral gifts forever stumped the Poe House curator
Perhaps the answer can only be explained by reincarnation
Did the Raven embody the spirit of Poe’s beloved Lenore
If so, perhaps the Raven returned again in a life rotation
In human form she visited to lay roses on the earthen floor
And upon her death in two-thousand nine, she took to the skies once more
A Raven who now joins the flock circling above her late husband’s grave \/
Could it be her spirit remains with Poe, as it did in life before \/ \/ \/
Bringing him in the afterlife all the roses a poet could crave \/ \/ \/ \/
For those who consider this possibility totally absurd
Just consider the fantasies Poe created with the written word
By Carolyn Devonshire
Contest Title: “Among the Dead,” sponsored by Constance LaFrance ~ A Rambling
You are far away now
Off in fields of gold
Dappled with evenings hot velvety light
90 degrees of separation has dulled the sword
eased the pain
The grasshoppers chirp in unison to your labors but they no longer ache in your solar plexus
What sweet sorrow is loss and gain
I now walk down the very paths I have always so longed for
the dark rich peat paths of happiness
contentment oozes from these fingertips as I write and I wonder if happiness is poetry
Or does it preclude it all together
The night sky fills with stars
The stars fill with fire flies that burst out of them like infinitesimal lightning bolts
jettisoned to my soul
he and I chase storms on decks swirled in smoke
We banter and bay at one another
you are in a field of gold somewhere
a river bed
The smell of the wet earth of shore beneath you reaches me… but momentarily
dismissed as the ash of the bonfire of a week ago fire or the grill of last night’s
unbelievably tasty ribs he concocted from air for me and me alone
but then we shared with so many
Lingers on my lip tips…the bottom edge
I kiss him and mean it with all I am
Super beings are we
and our colors wash
upon the canvas of my life
melding into one great magnificent us
Spectacular are we
the creatures who so love life
we give our only begotten selves to each other
and never ever forsake
-Eden's Ending Eulogy-
Proceed here today, Eden's Ending Eulogy
Gentle gracious her garden, the guidance
I can't recall what was with the warm, sincere smile, and sunrise
Lost at ease and clarity.......I Sleep!
Forever In Peace, this dark, damp den, coffin will do
at last, a parting powerful, reunion and resting resort
Cold and dark, the eyes of the depths
glaring at the stars above.
Few dare descend the steps
which reach down to oblivion’s cove.
Heavy, the desire for truth,
like the chains dragging my body further down
unto fate unknown.
Beyond recompense, lies the ruin
sunken to forbidden ground,
now home only to the strangest of creations
and catacomb to the drowned slaves of history.
Will all memories be as this one day?
Ghosts that haunt the corpses of humanity’s ambition?
Black are the bells that once chimed to announce omen.
Buried are the thoughts that walked my mind.
Broken are the tables where ideas once feasted.
Bound are the hopes, eaten by preying sharks of doubt.
Weighing down, the garments choke the breath of life.
There, where insanity was sane, beneath facade’s streams
lies truth, in the sea of forgotten dreams.
Her daddy’s grave is the oldest,
His name is hard to read.
She knew his stone had corroded
And has brought supplies she’ll need.
Near to him is her young husband.
He had been the next to die.
She used to come here often
Just to sit by his grave and cry.
Next to her daddy is her mother
After twenty-one years alone
Her name shows up clearer and newer
On her side of the stone.
As the years went by the lot filled up,
A beloved young nephew is there.
She reads his age of twenty-three
And thinks that it isn’t fair.
The lot started filling faster
With loved brothers and their wives.
She remembers kneeling with her loved son
And speaking with him of their lives.
And now there’s a grave much newer.
She hadn’t thought she would see this one.
His name is there so clear and bright,
The name of her only son.
She looks down to where she is standing
As she feels the cold wind stir.
RAVEN is chiseled into the rock
At this spot reserved for her.
lBy: Joyce Johnson shared first place with Linda Marie and Carrie.
For Constance "The Rambling Poet; contest "Among the Dead"
I think about you, every single day,
Since from me, you were taken away,
Your absence has left my world cold,
Now I am alone, with no hand to hold.
I wish that I could bring you home,
So that your soul, shall need not roam,
I hope that you were given white wings,
To fly amongst, where the angel sings.
Within my heart, your eternal breath,
Shall now linger on, even after death,
My love for you shall never cease,
So, may you always rest in peace.
Written by: Kelly Deschler
For Just That Archaic Poet's contest - Put Your Best Rhyme Forward!
For Gail Angel Doyle's contest - "Eternal Breath"
beneith the phantoms of the deep
a wretched grave yard where love sleeps
all but forgotten loves of time
covered in fiction, rumors and lies
decay did whither their werry bones
and unrest bother their hearts left alone
suicide and murderous mist
malace and for thought of a poisonous kiss
for each they sailed the sea of love
clear skies and ocean above
below lost vessels that once rode the sea
smothered by waters that pulled down deep
trusting the ship they begged to sail
where calm sea's often become strong gails
and tossed are sailer to and fro
from the bow to down below
suffering what they didn't know
the sea's anger and ability to show
is there a god to which can be prayed?
where is Poseidon, can he be paid?
for safe passage through the rocks
take from us this state of shock
where every wave would cover thee
and silence prayer and every plea
certian distruction awaits this ship
being torn asunder by natures grip
thunder peels across dark skys
like a truth it is a light
but darkness denies it's pressence still
lightening cannot change the will
where fears would scare, the sailor steals
tighten the ropes secure the sails
love demands the highest price
certian risk and sacrifice
the abyss has claimed a myriad of lives
who death for love was satisfied
sailing on the sea of love
glimpsing the phantoms from up above
a sad sanity can calm the sea
and then rage take over and destroy what be
we cannot hide from love what love see's
the bigger the ocean the deeper the sea
the deeper the love the bigger the greif
no matter who or what they be
the ship is the hostage of the sea
you can sink in it's depths or to its shore flee
there is always a risk when you tempt the sea
and there is always a grave waiting for thee
Beyond the iron gate, alone
I read your name, through tall weeds, grown
A vigil, where the mossy stones
Cleave to breast of wasted years
I feel you standing here with me
Deep in the dark, where I am drawn
Where whimpering trees, brown grass and weeds
Are dripping in the weepy dawn
There is a web, that pulls me in
That tugs at me with silken thread
A withered garland, black with dread
Calling me to hear the wind
Where dust to dust, of what has been
Is quietude, and vague recall
That falters in the falling leaves
Yet alters what I've always known
I know I loved you long ago
It comes from you, in thin-leafed songs
Two centuries old, and can't be seen
Shadowed by the granite years
Behind the gates where you have lain
Sharing earth with dried up tears
Defying time that lies between
I see your name, through tall weeds, grown
A vigil now, where mossy stones
Bring with them all the wasted years
Between us now, I feel the cold
Defying lucid reasoning
Here lies the arsonist, Ash James -
Although, he would have chosen flames.
It amazed us, once, to see the grave of a notorious pyromaniac in a local grave
yard - I know that she would have certainly preferred cremation!