What are we?
Become a
Premium Member
and post notes and photos about your poem like Ink Empress.
we live in a world where so many pretend to be perfect yet, it is always a battle, resisting urges and temporary happiness over immortal bliss...
i found the artwork by Paul Gauguin interesting, and I was looking at that for inspiration for the contest sponsored by Tom woody.
As the midnight
sun cries sweet honey,
the mourning moon
croons caramelized deceit,
like toffee-speckled leaves,
whistling bewitching myths,
seducing silenced silhouettes,
engrossed in tangerine temptations,
and mundane melodies
of tethered time.
But are we not lost wanderers,
knitting forbidden tales of life;
an undone work of mystical art,
transcribed in incoherent dialects;
perfectly scarred and bruised,
like wounded warriors on the quest
for picturesque perspectives,
we waltz through an endless realm,
stuck in a translucent loop
of daisy chains and
dahlia links in lilac lace,
counting crestfallen
jewels of Lunar grace,
thirsting for deep russet harvests,
to feed the drained void
in vain ignorance,
unaware of the shallow seeds,
emanating hypnotic hypocrisy.
For we are, mere echoes of
cosmic frequencies,
orchestrated to compose
sanguine serenades,
by the divine virtuoso
and angels of utopia.
And I question the
Goddess of the twilight pearl~
what will the stars sing of us,
when constellations crack
and bleed into eclipsed
rivers of faded galaxies?
Are we not all sinners,
pretending to play wise,
spoken from a past that
knew paper butterflies,
so fake that it deserves
a Nobel Prize,
for stealing sanity
and leaving us paralyzed,
while we are
suppressing passion,
we can barely recognize,
rising to right the
wrongs to neutralize.
Aren’t we human?
We break and bleed,
pleading through pain,
to pacify angst.
Are we not tenants within
temporary tranquility?
Engrossed in timeless truth,
revealed from the halcyon castle,
with saffron scriptures,
even the blind can read?
I ponder, would we still thrive
amongst remnants
embalmed in jinxed jasmines,
amidst roses, so radiant and divine?
I know not what I sow,
across forlorn fields,
with herbs of fruitful weeds,
to attain profound peace,
while this heart still is
searching for perfumed
petals flickering serenity.
As life here on earth,
is a lavender landscape,
designed with transformative tulips,
twirling in tune to the
ephemeral anthems of exotic existence.
So what are we but caged dreamers,
singing songs of begonia bliss,
into the sombre breeze,
like fragmented figurines,
sculpted from galactic granules,
soaring above virgin vines,
stretching beyond skies
gliding with luminous lies.
Perhaps we are an emerald aftermath
of an immutable saga,
sewn with silver sinned dust,
shimmering in ashes and bones,
like contoured skeletons,
blanketed in balanced duality;
stainless wings of ivory doves,
water and air merged
in tumultuous depths,
strumming violin visions,
from bronze strings of
unwavering faith and eternal light.
Copyright © Ink Empress | Year Posted 2024
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment