Best Amphorae Poems
Written: February 24, 2024
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Moonbeams kindle ambrosian dreams
Love evolves on auric gleams
A gem in space, a costly pearl, a Luna
Fetching felicitous feelings, a fervid fawn
In this wassail ethereal area, hearts soar
I was awestruck by the lambent moon
Glittering gems, gilded in dull dust
Vanity surpasses a chimeric spell
A cromulent devotee, in awe
Emerald aureola, blazing high star
Heavenly memoir amphorae
Sew love from words in utter gaze.
Toed moon syntax tonight
In our bucolic spot, love will thrive
We are those who wield abilities of orbs
Sparse straps, splitting stripes
Love outshines crimson swirls
Sapphire adorns translucent tulips
Sturgeon Roe names cast in crystal
Sipping strawberries spoils serene seas
My love infused a porcelain spirit
Sketch my comely soul
Let me breathe your raspy hiccups
Believe me—beyond oblivion
Your Zinnia blooms gambol my heart
Gorgeous, lost in a well-woven nimbus
Fugacious felicity and fluff on fiery flowers
Rising flames, faint shooting, conflict.
Outside orbs offer otherworldly orbits
Deciphering diaphanous riddles
Could night cherubs grasp our grace?
Classic clear cloud cores
A balmy silk breeze hides enigmas
Covered below perseid colors
Your dulcet eyes sparkled dimly
Rose-tuned praise of cyan candidness
Via velvety vintage valleys, vivid verse vests
Beleaguer back the fire of our waltz
The moonlight lifts our mellifluous breath
Dreams soar in tangerine skies.
Written: May 15, 2024 For Jay Narain Contest
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Summer's sunshine tingles the lavender bloom.
It bestows an idyllic and aureate mood in the room.
A serene spa as fears vanish and peace beams.
A sumptuous sanctum and mellifluous dream.
Royal purple, orchid, with the silky grace of a lilac.
A rush of passion and altruism, and a smile to luck.
A panacea for a jaded soul, a cornucopia of peace.
A pleasing pastiche in which hurdles seek release.
Stench of lavender recalls an elixir, syrupy but real.
A dulcet wassail is charming luxurious, and ideal.
Amphorae filled with flower oil, ambrosian ariose.
An oasis of quietness bliss and no mood morose.
From soil to sun, sand to scent, appeal is copious.
A healing hum, gentle grasp, evoke in you Proteus
Lavender aroma bestows a lovely easing balm.
A whisper of coolness, a spirit devoid of harm.
Amphorae, beautifully crafted,
Delicate, exquisite, fire-glazed,
Heated in jumbo kilns,
Lovely molded necks,
Opaque pigments,
Quartzite residue-
Symbolic, timeless, utilitarian
Valued- with xanthic yellow zirconium
***
October 22, 2019
F T I series 5 beauty
Brian Strand, sponsor
***
Poetry notes:
Poetry form: ABC - In this instance, a poem in which every word begins with a successive letter of the alphabet. The first word begins with A, the second with B, etc.
Freedom is the realization that freedom is just another drug to calm a pain, to continue the show,
And this drug comes in a variety of models, prices for the mass market or highly segregated niches.
In the chaotic silence, where souls meet in untamed dreams,
Lies the immeasurable truth we hide in the delicate silks of self-deception,
Freedom, an illusion sold in shiny packages, like lost ancient amphorae,
Changes its form for every thirsty soul, soothing the silent pain that creeps into the shadows.
Watching the spectacle of life, we drown in the symphony of daily experiences,
Each inner battle is an unending act of a cosmic play,
This drug leads us, shapes us, keeps us captive in its snares,
Offering us infinite illusions of escape, creating an ephemeral paradise, only to trap us.
In a world where prices are etched in the ephemeral gold of our desires,
Profits swell, our dreams turn into transactions,
A reality sold in vast commercial spaces or isolated market corners,
Carefully packaged, tailored for the masses or for the few, the chosen, the segregated.
The stream of consciousness guides us through rivers of unspoken thoughts,
In the depths of our own reflections, where we find truth and lies, freedom and captivity,
In every moment of silence, we decipher maps of our minds, seeking corners of paradise,
The hidden treasures of our soul seep through the veins of time, slowly decrypting our power.
Freedom is as twisted as the winding path of a mountain road,
An antidote to pain, a fleeting solace for unseen wounds,
We have grown accustomed to seeking this remedy, embracing the illusion with open arms,
Only for a time, we travel through the realm of the unknown, trying to heal what we cannot see.
In the depths of the stream of consciousness, we reveal ourselves entirely,
Becoming seekers of truth through layers of lies and false hopes,
We are explorers of our own freedom, held captive by purchased delusions,
With each breath, each step, we liberate ourselves, only to shackle ourselves again.
There, in the shadow of the show, we understand that freedom is more than a drug,
It is a journey, an infinite mystery, a quest for the peace we need,
It is the eternal dance of life and desire, a waltz between truth and illusions,
And thus, we continue to dream, to seek, to live.
Sometimes I'm dream of a woman in her blossom,
With no prejudice and with an attractive bosom.
If you will ask me:- Why do you need this?
Simply to talk about amphorae of ancient Greece!
Please, don't call me
don't love me,
don't touch me (as if
I was ivy)
do not strangle me
between hallucinatory
words, woven from
languid desires,
let me
run free, barefoot,
through the morning dew,
through the blooming vine,
I'll get drunk with the rays of
the day,
-make you fall asleep like a
bird in its nest,
I will carry all summer rains with my
woven arms in clay amphorae,
I will rock all summer rains, in my
arms yellow like
dandelions,
all summer rains will fly,
only for you they will
fly
...don't call me,
don't love me,
don't touch me (as if
I was ivy)
let me float
free, barefoot,
through the morning dew,
through the blooming vine,
I'll get drunk on the rays of
the day,
a bird in its nest, I'll make you
fall asleep,
I will gather all summer rains
with my hungry arms like
beewax,
…only for you
All summer rains will fly,
only for you, I’ll light up
the ovens of the sky to
polish the clay,
and change its cheekbones,
before
the blood
produces
its lithography