Violet Grape, Purple Envelope
Written: September 29, 2025, for contest sponsored by: Robert James Liguori
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In pavonine dusk, she composed—
A letter sealed with crimson wax,
on velvet parchment,
a mosaic of sighs unfurled.
In the crest of ecstatic swirls,
each word an anagram of longing,
hidden at the start
and the cease of each slash.
Inside: faint violet grapes,
nectar balm for the worthy,
on an idyllic steed embossed
with topaz sparks—
solace for those who tremble
at the edge of heights.
A soothing draught for swollen hearts,
pierced by dazzling rays.
Follow the trail of lost words—
a ductile prayer to the empyrean,
the veil-maker of celestial mist,
a weaver of dulcet dawns
amid the soaring storm.
For the nyctophile: a tale on cambric linens.
Iconoclasts embrace angelic ache.
Her soul yearned for joy.
An idealist cultivates love
within a glistening haze.
Circumvent the storm of memory.
Behind an unusual confession—
not bucolic, drabness, or triviality.
Supplication in silence, in ache,
of your rekindled awareness.
To shape you, to yield you.
Climb as a phoenix toward eternity.
Without hubris, blame, or bias,
she traced her scorn in a smear—
as the untamed primate’s roar.
Freed from that vile sweat,
from the heat that others dread.
Because you will not
shift her spinning thoughts.
Hypoxia in mirrored forms,
and their inverted shapes.
A tinge of prosperity, a rush of truth—
Not every wicked soul can grasp
the weight of lifeless ghosts.
The king of calm purple,
shrouded in serene shadow,
set near the heart of star clusters.
A servant in utopia,
unaware of the katabatic chasm.
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