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Details | Symbolism Poem | |

Texian Macabre Arena

The First Texian Macabre Arena Ballad (The extended free-fallen edition)
 
In another life, is where I first saw your face!
Summer, afternoon, lying wounded, next to the dead
Unopened gun powder, mass destruction in a land of disgrace
A blood thirsty battlefield, is where I first saw your face
The sound of war, hidden behind my hands that bled
Crawlers, rendering their lives upon the open space
 
Jaws of steel, broken, embracing the warm feeling 
Summer rain, lungs of blood, their last dying post
Glorious by numbers, every blade was screaming 
Gemstone losing touch, in touch with the Holy Ghost  
Soldiers come in a little closer, as if they were only dreaming
Crawling, missing limbs, twisted nightmare with no ending

Macabre reminder, retracing the aroma of eternal life
Secrets buried like a treasure under the walls of sudden death
Revolutionary tears found on a rusted Bowie knife
Lanterns, crackling against every last dying breath,
Dirty piles of crashing wind pipes, and sudden death
Rummage like garbage, the dead Texian
A Falling Alamo Star, taking one last twinkle and dying breath

The Forgotten Patriots, I can't remember the names
Written on the wall, I can't remember the names
A folktale arena is where I first saw your face
The fairness of stuttered surrender slicing through iron brace
Crawling, with the hunger to live, a clean finish with grace
Exposing, scars needing mother's hands, and face

Across infested meadows, the aroma of burning skin.
Distant, before Texas and her annexation, 
Gruesome, before I lived, Texas and her mortal sin
I pledge, my love, the honor, a legion, I'm a full blown Texian
To Every Forgotten Texian Patriot----- We Win!

By:PD

Details | Symbolism Poem | |

BASTARD

"All Children Are Beautiful"

His heart of white deep, shallow wells, yet beautiful
He smirks a grin, with an ego that won't let me in' -he's beautiful
Bastard, of beauty, running ashes without a name
A face with no claim, a young man pounding from shame 
What is his sin, he's beautiful!
I want to breathe from his ashes, swim through his veins
I want him to come inside my light, like a good dame

I sing and tell a tale, A Bastard through the night
His eyes, I waged, I was young and poor, I was saved
Lying down, in the arms of my white knight
My hair, he caressed, he came in my light
The furnace burned, the night was fast becoming trite
A lover, he did it well, then went back to his wife
A moment so golden, the ages live, his son is born

Another Bastard brought into this world

By: PD

Details | Symbolism Poem | |

The Ballad Of Poet Destroyer

"The Ballad of The Poet Destroyer"

Destroyer, and creator of words
Flying high on the wings of a bird
Drowning every inch, by foes and friends
Where has she gone?

When push came to shove, 
She continued standing tall after every fall
Falling fearlessly like the falling star tapping the lips
Topaz, a star in the eyes of envy the enemy
A dreamlike, miracle mirage, fresh like mints
No reason in remembering yesterday's sad song
Slightly she moves in with the new barren breeze,
A maze in disguise, no way out
A feeling so good, you hate
The naming of names, that won't escape you 
Your eyes of lust, imitate PD's sweetest touch, 
Destruction, with pleasure
A new day, killed by the morning after pill
Everyone gone, shadows remain
Where, has she gone? 

A feeling so good, you hate
Your unmatched precision, wobbles your stability
She'll give you a taste of rays, despite your low self-esteem 
Happiness turns to sadness, making every jaw drop
Where has she gone?

She's not the painting of Mona Lisa, 
However, it does not stop you from spending your cash-
-To see a picture painted with a frown,
Look what you've done!

Never to return, what was, what is!
You say you love her, then you run
A dry barrel, an empty gun, 
Never will the enemy be number one, 
Nothing but a shadow, a rug for PD,
Like a dream, her imagery is haunting
Love her or leave her, her pen name remains
Poet O' Poet where are you?

Advocate of smiles, enjoy her copy paste kiss
Trace her silhouette found in the midnight mist
Blindfolded, indulge by the wind
Breaking, the Texas Hold EM' Hand
Her freedom, her land
Gone insane, she laughs, 
Untouched she remains, she lives
Inside of me

By; PD

Details | Symbolism Poem | |

Soul mates solace

When my final shadows cling on desperately
Where I fight formidable battles
to merely hold the light
I send you loving vibrations
and soul sustenance
Deep from the cathedral
of one heart to another
where today no choirs sing
nor symphonies play
Yet it is here where we meet
in spiritual solace
here to surrender 
and exchange inestimable treasures
recollecting memories 
like unopened letters
Galaxies are stretched
over chronicles of shared history
Nebula birthing stars
will be exposed
in forth-coming conversations
bringing short-lived fulfillment to you
Hungry to feast
now will be the time
to approve your blood art vision
and with my own haunting surrender
as dappled shades ink stain your chest
I will reside with you and share, mesmerised 
pens - by branding
as this will be your written reams to me
your artist's pallet or brushed canvas
no need for words
and yet creating
mysterious magical moments
Bitter-sweet the music
that dances taut guitar strings
but now blood approved
please go kick your heel up
return to your laughter
and ride on the breeze
for not all are lost
change not
for I am with you always
to love, listen and comfort as one
with you in me and I in you
as masterpiece

Details | Symbolism Poem | |

Fool of Infinite and Queen of Fate

Fool of Infiniti

A wanton bird pecks at the stars
A Jester peers through crystal bars
This prison of love with rainbow hue
Illusion parts to lets you through

On dragon wings forever free
You quest into your dreams to see
Smoke and mirrors and shadow haze
To guide you through an endless maze

Slow motion tear rolls down her cheek
Its only passion that you seek ?
Engulfed in strange duality.
She wonders her reality

Your eyes still mock her with desire
Your kisses light her inner fire
Your touch can melt her to your will
But you will never take your fill

Black widow spider guards your heart
She spun the web, she keeps it taut
It is your only fatal flaw.
A secret, silent metaphor.

And all about her swirl the dreams
The nightmares all with voiceless screams
And in her hand the strangest key
To fit the door of What Will Be ?

And when her eyes search yours again
You take her to the spider den
You spin the dreams she hopes to see
And lock your hearts in mystery.

So enter in to lick the flame
Eternal prisoner of the game
Illusion is false imagery
She whispers your Infinity


The Queen of Fate

The Queen of Fate by the outer Gate
Her carriage to Nowhere, will await
Her cloak is wrapped against the night
Her eyes are wide with peculiar fright

Gray horses eyes turn back in fear
With thunderclaps upon her ear
Blue jagged lightning points the way
Along the path to yesterday

Cold, sullen driver cracks his whip
His crooked smile curls round his lip
His horses leap the cruel abyss
Dark Queen of Fate sees none amiss

Above the mist a gate appears
Who will wipe the Gate-man's tears ?
Gray horses strike and paw the air
Fate Queen ascends the carriage stair

And all about her swirl the dreams
The nightmares all with voiceless screams
And in her hand a wondrous key
To lock Enigma's Mystery

Pass through the gate O Queen of Fate
Another carriage will await
Drawn by Steeds of Promises
Illusion Starts and Finishes

Suzanne Delaney
Iambic Tetrameter
Gothic Theme
For Giorgio's Impress Me Iambic Contest

Details | Symbolism Poem | |

Nihilist

Farcical, extravagant 
My birthmark is a scar 
A speckled blotch ...
A spot of pox 
An icon from afar 

I'm an upstart, I'm an eyesore 
Ranting with a flair
In a tempest, I'm a rabid bird 
Setting fire to the air 

As dauntless as a hellhag 
Unmoved by love or care 
I can hold up in a cyclone 
Feasting on your fear 

I'm your last hope 
As a laughingstock 
I'm your courage in a dare 
As audacious as a terrorist 
With death-defying hair 

When it's time to play the tragic fool 
I'm as flagrant as a glare 
Seething with a vengeance
In a tantrum of despair

Written by © Raven Drake





Details | Symbolism Poem | |

9 11

                                    
                                                               
                             America the Free  ~             America the Brave ~
                           Freedom with price              Capitalism attacked
                            the many taken                   hearts broken still
                              one World                           try to rebuild
                            sadness and tears               fall hard with fears  
                            guilt by association             many accused still
                             souls evaporated                shattered dreams 
                            tears fall on innocence          left with anger 
                             The proud fearless             knew the inevitable
                              policeman fireman             many lives lost
                            grieving does not stop           12 years later    
                               New York city once          proud  & shameless 
                             refusing to let fears in          protecting ours 
                                left in shock still              question's unanswered                    
                               nothing learned                     nothing gained  
                                ready to attack                   many left behind
                              anger greets denial              anger meets rage 
                               unacceptable still                 refusing new love 
                            wanting days to rewind           let us go back in time 
                              acceptance  allowing           the victims leave in peace
                              the brave taken young           leaving us sadly old
                               haunting dreams                     lost spirits dwell
                               no answers to hate            never forgetting that day
                               Evil entered suddenly              unforgiving fate
                                entering our City                we stand with the fallen
                                 How to fix                            how do we Change 




           
            This can be read many different ways ~ This is a poem I am so proud to write ~









          


Details | Symbolism Poem | |

Fall from Grace A Roundel

Before the beginning of time when Chaos ruled Hell and Night
Into the depths of this Cosmos, a Paradise, perfectly placed.
Above this darkness, a heaven drawn forth in a burst of light
Before the beginning of time

From the Garden of Eden, henceforth, Adam and Eve were disgraced
Lo!  A fallen angel  changed himself to a serpent in Eve’s sight
Banished, they fled before God to a wilderness, forever displaced.

Forbidden fruit had shown them the difference of wrong from right.
In Pandemonia,  Demons conspired, sin and death be interlaced.
God sacrificed his Son to save them  - from Hell's eternal plight.
Before the beginning of time

Suzanne Delaney

For Suzette Crous
Roundel Competition

Details | Symbolism Poem | |

Gifts

Gifts

Gifts are what matter the most.
Where's the talent without its host?
Where's the paper without the pen?
What is repetition without doing again? 
Where's the car without its driver?
Where's the home without the family?
Where's hope without faith?
Where's the song without the singer?
Where's the vocalist without the musician?
Where's the tune without the melody?
Where are the words without the lyrics?
Where's the music without the instrument?
Where's the orchestra without the conductor?
Where's the production without the producer?

Where's the tree without its root?
Where's the branch without the tree?
Where are the leaves without the branches?
Where are the flowers without their stems?
Where are the petals without the flower?

Where is spring without its showers?
Where is summer without heat?
Where is winter without the cold?
Where is autumn without the breeze?

Where is love without passion?
Where is affection without attraction?
Where is deed without action?

What is math without its equations?
What is a word without persuasion?
Where's a sign without indication?

Where's the line without a starting point?
What are bones without their joints?
What is a body without chemistry?

Everything has a gift.
Everything has a function.
These things work together in perfect conjunction.
Gifts, yes indeed, gifts.

Details | Symbolism Poem | |

Freedom

This place, inside, where all my feelings keep.
That lies somewhere between my heart and soul.
Should I, the guardian of my fortress seek,
Protection from those, who would see them stole.
So many times have you this bastion breeched,
With scant regard for all the dangers posed.
That my hopes and dreams should not be reached,
By eyes that only wish my heart exposed.
These inmates with their liberty restrained.
That strive against their shackles and their chains.
Am I their jailor too cautious to be blamed,
To free them no matter what their claims.
And if freeing them should reveal my heart,
I might be also freed.. my life to start

Details | Symbolism Poem | |

Vitrine-mannequin on a Winter night I

Mannequin

Dependent was and amorous obsession 5.5
in burning desert, fresh canteen 4
his sidewalk's fantasy and thoughts' digression, 5.5
the strongest coffee's roasted bean 4
(their phantasms met beyond projectors' light). 5

Exquisite stood upfront, unmoving posture,
distressing emptiness of soul,
unreachable resort her sightly stature,
(- expending skies and ozone hole),
prêt à porter vitrine, on Winter's night.

Behind the glass, a still and standing shadow
abates his hopes (gray sky suspends),
( he takes his foolish stance of wooden scarecrow,
- that through odd sprawls the fields attends ),
was she the blessing of the Gods or else?...

His allegorical, but lonely feeling,
instilled inside, without defect,
while speechless phantoms crossed sky's ceiling,
the downpour soaked, warmth to reject,
(ersatz their wedlock's knolling, fast dispels).

Her uppish, elegant of stance, adjacent,
within arm's reach, kind of abstruse,
albeit abstained, of secular indulgence,
(his head acquired a tilt obtuse),
invited him through faultless, charming lies.

A brass trumpet dispersed its jazzy spieling,
he, thoughtless, leaned on some red booth,
adored her raised one hand's refined appealing,
(- that altruistic, smiling tooth!),
and gazing to the stars but vacant eyes!...

© G.V. 11-16-2013, All Rights Reserved

(Iambic Quintain following 5.5, 4, 5.5, 4, 5 feet on each stanza. 
The rhyme scheme follows this pattern: 
ABABC DEDEC, FGFGH, IJIJH ... and so on.)
(Allegory, Humor)


Details | Symbolism Poem | |

Stars

Stars
A cycle of rebirth And regeneration Cosmic mysteries From the depths of the universe.
Immortal beings During acts of love Cast mystical spells Generating creative life forces.
Name: Pandita Sánchez Contest: “Shine with Your Naani!” Date: 6-18-2014 Sponsor: Nette Onclaud

Details | Symbolism Poem | |

A Perfect Storm

In an open field of endless, noiseless distance,
Rolling clouds cast an impending gloom;
A welcomed and promised darkness descends.
My eyes shut as I breathe in the aroma,
In anticipation of 
The cleansing that quickly approaches.
I cloak myself in the breeze, as it promises a release..
The cool wind, calming, so gently serene...
Sweeping over my overheated skin.
Finally, the fury is perfectly unleashed down upon me.
The winds, gusting in a frenzied rush
My hair whipping haphazardly around, 
Stinging at my face.
I smirk toward the sky, as I silently, but eagerly
Await the onslaught - 
This desperate release that I longed for in secret.
It sought me out, and found me. 
I hear the angry sounds
The roaring, begging to weep alongside me.
When suddenly, the violent tears begin to fall
With a sudden, breathtaking destructiveness.
The thunder, like me, cries out in pain,
With such sadness, angry liquid bathing the parched earth.
It saturates my face, my body drenched.
As I stand in the midst of the deluge, in awe,
Crashing winds attempt to destroy me,
But cannot find the strength.
Until the tears eventually run dry,
The painful clashes and cries become silent..
The skies yield to light, as the great and
Terrible sun demands to be seen.
I open my tear-stained eyes,
And glimpse a different world before me...
Cleansed and made new.
And I cannot understand, nor
Fathom the reality...
Of the beautifully, perfect
Broken release.

Details | Symbolism Poem | |

Ode to a Siren

In the darkest depths
of valentine pink, 
a lavender layered
soft soothsayer,
yearning for green
peering past the blue.
And all the while,
a black bone pile 
of dead red sailors diffused.

Details | Symbolism Poem | |

Tears in a Bottle

Tears in a Bottle
doors open, doors close wasted opportunities – tears in a bottle
Entered in contest “One Solo Epic Senryu or Haikyu – In a Bottle” sponsored by Poet Destroyer A (7-22-2014).

Details | Symbolism Poem | |

Lonely Girl


Lonely Girl
wrapped tight in brown cloak, flashing Mona Lisa eyes - lonely lioness

Details | Symbolism Poem | |

A Diamond In The Rough

The flower still stood in the midst of the storm;
its petals still fresh and divinely clasped together.

The winds and rains couldn't stop buds to blossom,
though being in a hostile weather.

It was a plant brought down from the heavens by divinity,
to proof the existence of manifestation of invisible invincibility.

We all have the flower deep within;
it is waiting to glow like the Sun.....


 

Details | Symbolism Poem | |

WHERE FROZEN EMBERS STILL BURN

WHERE FROZEN EMBERS STILL BURN

When will periwinkle dreams entwine my lifesong
  for prickly winter has blanket me? [Long, ah! so long...]
Has bloody ferns swirl then froze me as falling snow
  for acrid critiques cold cloud? [T'was wrong, Oh so wrong...]

Doubts and worries weaken more my weary feet.
  But teeming catalysts from a passionate bearing God
    activate talent embers, once frozen, to fleet--
Spelling: "TRUST, GO AND START!", smolder revive from above.

Bearing a faith anew, I spread my wings to fly;
  walking even over blitz agonizing talk for pry.
Cracking myself from iceberg of fears--
  instead, twining myself to God's glory, a clear dear!

Braiding faith and hardwork in cornerstone steel,
  spirits afire hope that guards, a powerful seal.
Unfolding gifts from long frozen hearts' embers burn.
  mightily restored through heaven's love way turn...

(c)
10:16am
August 22, 2014

***inspired by verses:
Matthew 10:26 -
Therefore do not fear them. For there is nothing covered that will not be 
revealed, and hidden that will not be known. 

2 Corinthians 4:7-11
But we have this treasure in jars of clay to show that this all-surpassing
power is from God and not from us. We are hard pressed on every side, but not
crushed; perplexed, but not in despair; persecuted, but not abandoned; struck
down, but not destroyed. We always carry around in our body the death of
Jesus, so that the life of Jesus may also be revealed in our body. For we who
are alive are always being given over to death for Jesus' sake, so that his life 
may be revealed in our mortal body.

Details | Symbolism Poem | |

Time -part 1-

Tragedy is never a sentiment for Time For it is a phenomenon she merely sees She pours forth abundance for all that behold her Even for those of us that scold her And for naught she was cursed from the beginning There she is—interminable Time at the fullest! And we all envy her ever-ringing constancy She rules over our hearts Keeping stress in our spirits Not once does she feel sorry for us Nor is she indifferent of our failures She begs not for gratefulness And accepts who she is with joy! How ample we would be if we Like she—were free of trepidation If only we be like her waters—clear and visible from top to bottom Filled with untainted approval What fools we must seem to such a pure jewel as Time But ah, she is both heartless and kind And though we hate her peculiar aura Oh how hard it is do tear her from our minds! How stressfully beautiful Time is! Like a wink of venerated bliss She smiles and smiles And our ironical faces feel like grime Still she laughs in mirth While the world becomes a ball of putrid hatred Wanting more and more of her And positively hating her We that cannot see her began to hate For we are as visible and low as can be And we acknowledge her merely to insult her Though she takes no pang to the chest For the only gifts we give in return for herself are pangs That she simply returns to each sender Hidden is our pride But ever placed Ever unhidden Is our inscrutable mortality And this humiliation of our unchangeable fates Makes us want to humiliate the more fortunate Thus we regard her only as a concept As a fraction of a belief—a bellowing ideal For of course Time cannot in our honey-glazed eyes Think, eat, drink or feel We use her—yes! Even abuse her Not once will she complain For her gift is everlastingness

Details | Symbolism Poem | |

Scientist atop Mountain

I stood at the top of the mountain
Giddy, grinning— panting like a fiend
And thought of O2 sat., 
Allostery,
Polyporphyrin rings

And, in time, I thought of bottomlessness,
Half-filled glasses 
Stars exploding through the ineffable blackness

And thought, underneath it all,
What’s the vastness even mean?
I began climbing slowly down from the ego of my dream 

And asked 
What for?
Nothing more
But a flag stuck in the ground?
To calculatingly defy gravity 
As it mercilessly tugs us down?

And then I wondered, ponderously:
Am I a prophet
Or a god?
Is there a defined mind to our brain? 
Dimension to our façade?

A man behind the curtain?
A voice within the sky?
An ultimate time and place?
An adequate answer to “why?”    

I sat on the mountain, tortured
Like the archetypally wise
And knew then that all life’s purpose 

Had been imparted through desperate lies.

--
Note to those not familiar with Biochemistry: 
The first stanza refers to hemoglobin's decrease in oxygen affinity in response to high altitude/ low atmospheric pressure. This is accomplished through the molecule's allosteric conformation change. Hemoglobin's molecular structure consists of a porphyrin ring.  

Details | Symbolism Poem | |

Fate and the False Hope

Fate and the False Hope


Arrow of fate flies silently straight
targeted mark is found never too late
Man thinks himself master of his fate
forever the fish takes in hopes bait

Time clouds storm right on along
men, ants in a loud, dusty throng
Vanity stirs in such shallow hearts
unmindful of Fate's piercing darts

Burrowing deeply into their mound
seeking treasure never to be found
Their Queen , mistress of dark lust
deep down epic lamentations or bust

Fate flows readily into the dark deeps
man wickedly schemes even as he sleeps

Robert J. Lindley  09-11-2014

Details | Symbolism Poem | |

A Grim Fairy Tale

I was born a girl
whose parent’s died.
Then given to others
whose social status was high.
Papa, the king, but died in war.
Mama, the queen, who didn’t marry more.
An eternal scowl upon her face
as she kept her daily pace.
Hair pinned high upon her head.
“Do this!” “Do that!” She constantly said
and when I’d do one thing wrong
she’d scold me, yelling “Cinderella!”, for hours long.
And once she was done with what she said
I’d get back to work again.
But one day I got fed up.
Ran up my tower and closed the door up.
My window, the only way out
but Mama barged in, stopping in mid-shout.
But I just turned back and smiled
and then I fell a thousand miles.
And I lay among the trees
my spirit, at last, forever free.

Details | Symbolism Poem | |

From Pinnacle to Cynical

From Pinnacle to Cynical 

When we were young
We had our dreams
But, in our future we would find
That many times along the way
There were mountains, we must climb
But with the strength  
That comes with youth
We foiled every peril 
And hiked the broadways to the top
Until the path got narrow
Yes, in our way, we reached the top
And then became quite cynical 
For our decline, we could not stop
In descending from that pinnacle 
It matters not, how far we reached
Upon life's twisted routes and bends 
It's knowing that we've seen the summit
And that our journey, must slow, then end
                                                   By JTCurtis

Details | Symbolism Poem | |

A Damsel Or A Camel

Why drowning when there's the ability to swim in me? Why sleeping in the cold woods with a match box in my Jacket and an Axe below my head? Why the self condemnation when I'm a billion miles ahead of a billion? What exactly do I see in my inner mirror? Is Life embracing or pointing a finger at me? I see a pretty one of huge significance with effective duties like an Angel. But also, I see the ugly one dust to sand, stone to rock that's just its living sequel. I view a perspective rough but sweet; challenging but interesting which is exactly my gospel. But then, I see them as temptations and tests with no ability to repel. I notice when walking through red coals I never let my tears be my Life's panel but the submission of my adaptation becomes so parallel. I'm mind blowing and noticeable like a newly-sewed apparel. But day and night, I posses a tag with just one label. No matter the task to stay beautiful nothing stops that quest to excel but I see a limitation to just a specific ordered function like the ringing bell. I'm staying elegant and attractive making all long to be part of my counsel but my usefulness, worth and confidence no self awareness to propel. Beginning as crude coming out as a refined Jewel but still, reality seems so cruel. What exactly is my mirror saying? Is my Life that of a Damsel or a Camel? This, I just cannot tell!

Details | Symbolism Poem | |

Masked Men

Masked Men

Look in the mirror
Look in the mirror
What do you see?
Masked men staring back at me
What do you do when you look in the mirror?
Only to despise what you see
The pain you caused the everlasting memories
Do you see what you've done?
Can you live with what you caused?

Go now down your distant path
Your unworthy happiness will never last
These are things the Masked Men Cause
Who’s to say your right or wrong?
Misguided emotions lead you down this path
Masked Men mistakes will surly last
Go now the time has come
No more chances the Masked Men are done
Turn away and feel the pain

The lonely walk to enter slumber
The Masked Men Smile with pleasures unknown
Another one down
A broken spirit lost
Close your eyes and take his hand
Let the Masked Men take you away

By: Tim Lundmark