.
"okay
okay"
I were there
mine eyne
pop'd
i felt the heavy uv my
lower jaw
drop
he yell'd
"I won't lower the curtain
Quiet"
hiz voice sound'd
the crowded vestibule
only breath'd
and suddenly
without thuh warn
Flop
oh
my
my oh my
there wuz thuh "yuk" in the
anteroom
yet the rest uv us
gasp'd in marvel
i
for my part
marvel'd when I return'd
home
and
spill'd this here vision
such muse alter'n
pluperfect
lay'd bare
for mine fellow'z
astute critique
in his newly built spiritual psycho-anteroom
his reflection in the mirror swiftly changed
his grandmother appeared with a message
you will have other lifetimes
but I am your spirit guide in this one
straighten up my darling
this mystical magic was unforeseen
he watched her disappear into the mirror
knowing his life had forever changed
Star shoots at the mind
Hangs like earring in teared sky
Fissure on a hook
Shows fighting Spirit
Canvased vapor chandelier
Sighs expanse at hand
Liquid lightning pen
Diamond lined felt able craft
A brook of fable
Metamorphosis
Cocoon of endorphin sighing
Solidifies seal
Compassed Inn stable
Signature signed guiding light
Lines mine of wonder
You house the there there
Anteroom of the Angels
Loom of bright signals
Dragons breath agate
Stares staircase, Jacob's Ladder
Starry eyes agape
Ode to the morning sun
shining til' the day is done
Ode to the moon so bright
giving us, Lucasta Light
Ode to that star gazed-room
custom built,.. God's anteroom
Ode to Creation Days
made for earthling castaways
like you and I :)
In the photograph before me,
stretched out to fit the screen,
the faces that smile out at us
are not what they would seem.
But each a silent witness
of the pain that haunts the soul
and each a careful construct
that only has one goal:
to build a bridge to heaven,
reseal the sands of time,
to make of life an anteroom
that leads to birth sublime.
And looking at that picture,
stretched out to fit the screen,
I thank those Buddhist faces
for the sharing of their dream.
Carrick Townsend
09/08/21
If I were a thief who would I rob first?
Would I run to the rich houses?
What would be the point?
They would grab me and throw me in the pokey
Before I broke their windows.
So would I go to the middle class people’s houses?
What would I steal?
If I took the X-boxes and Playstations,
I would only be hurting children.
Do I want to hurt children?
What about church? That is where people are the most trusting.
If I was a thief I would rob people at church. I would go through their pockets
When their coats are hanging in the anteroom during their worship service.
I would sit in a pew and wait for an old lady sitting near me to sing with her hymnal.
I would hear my grandmother’s voice
And I would be ashamed.
Okay, church is out.
What about the poor people?
They have something right?
Forget it. I will keep stealing at school.
It really is the best place.
Their elan and their eclat only made my ennui bloom
It made me long, made me yearn for the womb or tomb
When given carte blanche by the dilettante masses
I found my creative spirit to be lacking true passions
I pined to be a paradoxical paragon, a peculiar paradigm,
An anomaly in the cacophony, not a soldier in peacetime
I had a feeling of deja vu while they bantered and prattled
In the baroque anteroom I was illuminated yet addled
To be avant-garde, nay, prototypical, I must make them look inside
To see the truth, to eschew the ersatz, to embrace what's bona fide
The last Soldier
From the narrow back streets in a town of conflict came
A whispering, the great man has finally died and muted
Voices grew lauder till old buildings shook and dogs howled
Imitating the humans in a jubilation they didn´t understand.
For eight years this heavy shadow of the past had hovered
As an ill omen and cowardly politicians found refuge and
Excuses for doing nothing, trying to find peace and fairness.
There will be display of mourning and his departure will be
Recorded in international presses despite the fact his nation is
Small, yet has unequalled nuclear power in the region.
Not only his detractors, on the other side of walls of trepidation,
Was glad to see him go, eight years a slowly rotting corpse kept
Alive, silent day and night. How tortured this man must have been
Endlessly waiting in the anteroom of hell.
anteroom shrouds mystery
mirror glints alter ego
groom stands in shadow
hoping mask to sheer
How small I have become
to linger too long in territory
I can not withstand
Tiny whispers spread
like an eagle's fan
across mounting skies that ignite
beckon calls to retreat
to more familiar land
I've crossed these roads
All too familiar now
but willfully still
To step aside and allow
you to take the upper hand.
The starlight lays its golden egg
tucked deep in distant clouds
to stake a pilgrim's claim
The raven black rescinds
To higher ground still
to amend the passing of two worlds
dusk versus dawn
Which will prevail
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.