The Dying Trance
A soul will rot
in boredom
The spirits
dying trance
Once disengaged
all feelings fade
without
— a sideward glance
(Dreamsleep: September, 2026)
What Eyes Miss
Children
cross those barriers
that adult’s
hide behind
Wading
into no man’s land
instinctively
alive
Children
cast fate to the wind
without
a second thought
Seeing
what our eyes will miss
in strictures
— we’ve been taught
(Dreamsleep: September, 2026)
Voices
Alive
no longer conscious
my words
survive the grave
When read aloud
to lift my shroud
in voices
— time belayed
(Dreamsleep: September, 2026)
When the light returns...
A lighthouse never takes you home
its beam circles, then vanishes,
spins, returns, and vanishes again;
reminding the lost, stray, stranded
that light beamed out there can awaken
the lamp readied for your return
moored to the pier within your ribs,
with a heavy hauser belayed to ride
the surging pulse of choppy seas
prowling the wharf, inside a safe harbour,
behind the rocks of an old sea wall,
where the tide ebbs and flows, in and out,
rocking the kerosene ship lantern,
swinging on a wooden ship's beam
waiting for the message in the bottle
to return to sender, assured.
intense . . . to begin with, belayed by hours
hewn soliloquy through obverse platitudes
benign, betrayal among friends, in grounds
of open mouths, a kraken of tongues regale
upon which bar the cocktails finally arrived
Reality pregnant
gestation released
Facts have been fathered
new mothers beseeched
The door to tomorrow
swings only one way
Birthing conception
—redemption belayed
(Dreamsleep: December, 2022)
I'm compelled to view some media, such as,
FAUX NEWS, like an illusion they portrayed.
Since their deception is masterfully crafted,
With multiple diversions . . . & truth is belayed.
As if by magic, they've given an audience,
Tasty morsels of manna, to satisfy heartache.
While they coddle and cradle those of privilege,
And true by definition, it's all FAKE!
Bemasked
Behind a happy mask
Beneath your guise of joy
Belie sweet wounded eyes
Betrothed to dreams unlived
Belayed for these few hours
Because you smile tonight
27 Apr 2014 - Dave Mohn
Let's Pleiades Contest
G rowth requires the reins of pain, the curing singe of fire
I nside we shrink, we quiver, quake but we rise inspired
V ictory through vice, challenge hardens resolve, lifts higher
I nnocence belayed, tried, can raise us whole, entire.
N ever damn the pain, decline the fight, rise, with life conspire
G od knows what's best this I believe what comes must transpire.
T he faint of heart, will never know the crucible, the pyre
H aving never risked the plunge, never left the flowery briar
A nd angrily bemoaned the dark, the pain, the fret conspired
N ever giving thanks for the test, the trials which seem most dire
K iss the ring, the ground, blow kisses skyward to the Holy Crier
S uch gifts as these diverse and free, all necessary and desired.
Contest Count Your Blessings
Date: 11/14/12
There are three of you, and I wonder now
For which do I fight, for which is my row (ra-ow)
For the past, where I lived so happy so free
I craved only moment, I gave all present me
I let it all bleed out moment at that time
I belayed all future, gave in to temp'ry mime
For present which really is my past
That soft dream I cradle fast
That friend I hold dearly rapt
Might not be my future, so precious wrapt
In my present see I future, perfect
Beautiful dream now here, flawless, democrat, elect
You here now are all for which I wish
Yet I cannot collapse, savor perfect dish
I dream of past, which was not sweet, sanguine
I live in present, easy, sublime
I hold out arms for future, believed, aligned
M which now passed, Mila gone into forever
R here in present, promising new life's lever
A for years fake future, sweet promise, alone never-never
You all call to me and I swivel my gaze
I know not which now I adhere to, my palais*
*palais - pronounced pa-laze, french, palace
The Shaman sits upon the sand,
the sand of ocher clay;
between the walls of ruins tall,
where ancient one did lay.
The sky above, the earth between;
took in her sincere pleas
tinksha’s toned, soft flutes droned,
her mantra’s dire decree.
To be the light on darkened paths,
within the night belayed;
and be the brave dark in the glow,
of God’s pristine light portrayed.
Her life long work no sacrifice
a love of mankind to display.
*One may be of any race or of almost any religion
and walk the Red Road. The Good Red Road is a path,
a way of living. It's full meaning is the way one acts,
the methods one uses, and what directs one's doing.
There is more to the Red Road than spoken word
or written words on paper. It is behavior, attitude,
a way of living, a way of "doing" with reverence -
of walking strong yet softly, so as not to harm
or disturb other life. The Red Road is a pathway to truth,
peace and harmony.
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.