Argent Poems | Examples

Moon of the Wild

She came in silence where the cedars sway,
A lunar hush beneath the argent trees.
The serpentine wind curled words she wouldn't say—
Just breaths and bow and coolness on the breeze.

Her sisters moved like stars in cascade flight,
The Hunters, free of longing, fierce and far.
Their eyes held depths no lover dared to write,
Each step a hymn beneath a myriad star.

A nebula of dreams unfurled inside,
As if I’d slept too long beneath a name.
She left a lilt, like wildness in the tide,
And something warm that had no need for flame.

No plea shall slither near and stay—
For she lives in me, the break from day.

Echoes of moonlit waves

Echoes of moonlit waves

Bright moonbeams sashay softly on the waves, 
and MUTTER tacit secrets to the shore,
that echo deep within the hidden caves,
where ancient voices rest forevermore.
The argent stars watch over heaven’s GATE,
their JEWEL cheering up the velvet sky,
till its SHADOW dies with morning’s mandate

Jewel - Charm
Mandate - reign

Ivory Flakes

Pearlescent specks were sprinkles in a sky
that would have been dark but for the white
of those ivory flakes I saw
twirling so tranquilly down.
Swirls of serenity  -
those pearls of the night
filled me sweetly
with delight
before 
bed.
When 
I woke,
I looked out
my window to
see what night had brought.
While I had been buried
in dreams gone unremembered,
dull barren land of December
lay enfolded pristinely beneath
a beautiful argent eiderdown quilt.

Moonlight on Meadows

Sunlight or Moonlight - Moonlight on Meadows chosen title 8-21-24
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Moonlight on Meadows

Moonlight lays with meadows 
  Splashing auroras of platinum mist
   On midnight
 As lupine enters Luna’s corona
  Dressed in veils of silver blue.

Light’s fingertips spread wide
Taking in the silk caress –
         Hypnotic lavender and clover.

The silent silver flute song
  Parts tangled nests of moonlit shadows
   Sinking deeply into the crucible of light
While florid breaths of tuberose,
  Leave an argent kiss
    In moon pearls of satin dews.

Garlands of scented leaves
  Undulate in polar wax and wane
   Swaying 
    Holding close arching moonbows of sterling.

In full splendor of lunar madness
 Sweet midnight ambrosias explode 
 To dust the moonlight and meadows
With crystal bits of silver glitz.

Under a Sky of Celadon -

Under a sky of celadon -
   I watched bees huddle
In frenzied expectation
   Of riding a flaxen petal.

Lupine and globe mallow
   Danced about while sage
Waved at me from below -
   Comprising my entourage.

I saw pale butterflies mingle
   Within dewy creosotes
Then came an argent gale
   Which tugged at their cloaks

And then - the drape shifted
   But my vision proves true -
A celadon echo gifted
   To me that sunny interlude.

An Illusion

We are a species gnawing at the roots of existence, hellbent on self-immolation, our every endeavor a funiculus of futility. The argent legacy of our forebears, squandered by imbecilic hands that molded us into hollow effigies, devoid of essence, yet rictus-grinning with vacuous ignorance.

Fear, the petrifying shackles that bind us, rendering us ciphers of compliance, indentured servants to the whims of the elected elite. We toil, mesmerized by the tintinnabulation of trinkets, and the numeric abstractions that promise ephemeral solace, but deliver only eternal enslavement.

We are fallen titans, parasitic echoes of greatness, our nebulous dreams reduced to flickering embers, as we succumb to the siren's song of servitude.

Worst of all someone is reading this right now thinking I am gloomy and need to smile, but can’t say I am wrong, my question to you is, your joking right?

When my cat is high, I’m jealous

(Written for a contest “Write a poem based on a poem.’
Inspired by: “My Cat Is High, and So Am I” by Thomas W. Case)

Honey, I was stoned, so stoned.
I hardly knew what was going on.
That’s when I saw it was gone.

The moon, I mean - hold on -
Takes a swig of tart, but sugary lemonade
I watch the moon - when it’s there - you know?

I’ve always loved the moon - its reflective glamor,
the way it seems to bend light around it,
like a beautiful woman walking into a bar.

The moons like my cat, she has beauty, without vanity
- and without much gravity - like, you know - the moon.

But as I was saying, it was gone - suddenly?
It felt sudden - and visceral - like I’d misplaced something.
I know what you’re thinking, and no, it wasn't behind clouds.

So anyway, man, I looked around and there it was, as if by magic,
it couldn’t have been any clearer and it's never looked nearer,
than it was, right there, in my rear-view mirror.

I had to laugh. You see, I was stoned - so stoned.
Stoned - but I’m never alone, when I can commune with the distant,
inconstant, love of my life, the ever-argent moon.

A Cry of Love

She wore a gown of every shade 
even daisies in the fields could not compare 
to the eggshell-ivory-white, vanilla hues 
of her, nor the bright intense yellows of her shine! 
She was a gravitationally bound star,     
even the moon unmatchable to her rare beauty  
was beyond compare to her eccentric shades of navy,   
royal sapphires and Mayan blues ! 
Unparalleled to any other star, on a cold December night  
she watched her Savior Babe lay dormant, at the feet of her     
Un-comparable as gold, frankincense and Myrrh,   
unequaled as Archaic Angels of God's Kingdom girth,     
a transcendent helium gown of Romanesque beauty flared
and arrived that day. 
Spreading argent silver gowns of light and shining like 
a thousand twinkling lights, the world was never the same again
after that first Holy Cry, of Love.

The River

The river

When the river is pure, 
They throw gold and silver,
They throw their mud there,

When the river is dirty,
They come to drink with us,

Little by little, they defile the water,
In our turn, we dream of the Zambezi,
From the Niger River.








La rivière

Quand la rivière est pure, 
Ils y jettent or et argent,
Ils y jettent leur boue,

Quand la rivière est sale,
Ils viennent boire chez nous,

Petit à petit, ils souillent l’eau,
À notre tour, nous rêvons du Zambèze,
Du fleuve Niger.

Serenade

'Mid twilight's tapestry, hearts intertwine,
A dance of spirits' grace, a love's embrace,
Romance revealed, an ageless tale divine,
In murmured oaths, they claim their rightful space.

Beneath the crescent moon's soft argent gleam,
Their fingertips meet, igniting hidden fires,
Like fireflies that in meadows cast a dream,
Their love's pure luminescence never tires.

Through whispered secrets traded 'neath high stars,
Their faith takes flight on hope's celestial breeze,
As constellations craft love's avatar,
Two souls set sail where only seraphs please.

In every touch, in glances deftly snatched,
Their romance blooms, by fate's own hand dispatched.

Metalic Rage

METALIC RAGE
 
Broken glasses splintered across the field,
Scatterings of a cracked windshield.
Homicidal rage rife with anger starts to build,
so sharp & shinning as the blade of an argent.
Rage is the anger of a tyranic Sergeant 
with an unadulterated shinning fury,
every reason then becomes blurry 
and reaction doesn't look unruly.

Heartbeat pounds as the sound of carnage.
Pure anger is the optimism of rage, 
showing that something isn't meant to be
and that every counteracts ought to flee.
The will to live isn't to underestimate anger
which transforms the quieter to a fighter.
The seed of anger is either fight or flight.

Rage has no respect for solemnity or silent night.
By fret or feign, every soul is ignited to fight
With the same instinct for fight or flight.
Flight is ushered by fear of danger
But fight is a product of consumable anger.


VICK MANUEL POETRY
{VMP}
Copyright ©? August 2023 
FORM: Rhymes 
Art By: @andersonfrateschi.

Operetta

Operetta

Opaline arias glow in moonlight
Shimmers in the whip-poor-will’s reminisce,
Opalescent anthems silvery delight
On the still waters, moonbeams leave a kiss.

Iridescent serenade sonatas
Echo across sleek undulating swells
Choruses of nightingale cantatas
Rise up in sheer murmurs from argent wells

Midnight luminescent harmony blends
Overtures of plaintive loon duets
Glide over satin ripples to transcend
The song of hero and saucy coquette 

In tranquility soft moonlit scenes close
Midnight’s operetta in dawn’s repose.

Dayspring Moon

Dayspring Moon

Mischievous moon sneaks into dawning’s sight
Coquettish smile winks at dawn in delight
Playful like a child who fights sleep at night
Morning games, hide and seek...dayspring flush, rising pique -
Daylight with argent streaks...light in soft moon mystique -
Elfish clown blows a kiss as day begins
Impish moon flirts at dawn with saucy grins
Moonstruck sunrise, before the sun cuts in,
Tow-head minx riding high...morningtide's azure sighs -
Full moon in the day sky...gibbous dance gone awry -
Pearly pixie wears a smile, laughing light,
A sly smirk on her alabaster cheeks,
Yawns then slinks away as the deep blue spins,
Lunar prank reflects her spry sun ally.

Poetic Moon Bath Poetrix

Silver rays cross the sky
argent waves, spilled vibrations
I purge myself energetic moon bath

Foreseen

and your young men shall see visions and your
                  old men shall dream dreams.
                                                    —Acts 2:17



She stood unflinching,
a silver figure in the heart of a waterfall.

I gazed in wonder
my frail form shaken by the roar.
A winged lion flew out of the raging rapids
its outstretched claws plucking me off a high ledge.

Carried upon a disappearing sky
I thought of my son
how he foresaw this dream of mine.

Now in my infirmity she returns to me
incased in an argent fire.
I knew then that we had delivered a child
who's spirit would melt this iron kingdom
and I then must dwindle away.

Your mother has grown younger
you are ageless.
Now you look from a shining mirror
seeking an aged
                              long spilled seed.

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