Best Arias Poems
In riming realms
of crystal contemplations -
frozen water-vapor meditations
and chilled flutes
filled with zodiacal-light musings
of ancient cosmic dust
dancing in the arms of Sol..
windswept operatic reveries
rise and fall
as her stirring soprano
tickled by the chanting of icicle chimes
gathers momentum
in strengthening sprays
of frosted musical notes adrift in broken chords
she bestrides
a clouded steed colored mother-of-pearl
flowing with fury
within which beats a blustery heart
surging at jet stream speeds
on the clattering beat of hailstorm hooves
from streamer-skies of the northern dancers
they fly aloft
on arctic gales of lyrical laughter
igniting the imagination
of her freezing fire
burning now with a blistering whip
and a frostbite nip
that sinks its tingling teeth deep
sailing
a supernatural stage
amplifying—
her aerated soprano soars
in polar vortex arias
as an avalanche of glazed trinkets
—descendants of her fertile femininity
skydive
in shivering sixfold symmetry
falling
in fierce flights of fancy
as she cyclones on consecrated currents
with wild abandon
escalating
in twirling trills
of glass beaded squalls
swirling her iced eiderdown skirts aflare
baring tempest thighs
storming with a Siberian sting!
..and as her electric eyes spark
luminous with lightning
she buries you in a blizzard
of opalescent mistletoe berries
and wanton whims.
If I could play the violin
I'd write a melody
euphonious to draw you in
and play my rhapsody
to bring a smile to your dear face
and calm the storm within
if I could play the violin
If I could play the saxophone
with timbre silvery
I'd paint a poem of pure tone
to laud your alchemy
for you turn iron into gold
and granite to gemstone
if I could play the saxophone
If I could coax an oboe's tone
a dulcet sound divine
to craft a raft for you to own -
a musical lifeline
when waves have knocked you off your course
when winter winds have blown
I'd play a soothing oboe tone
If I could sing a heaven-sent
anthem or hymn profound
I wouldn't need an instrument
when you feel nearly drowned
I'd whisper arias of hope
my mouthpiece, bow, and strings
are prayers for God to heal your wings
and soar beside as heaven sings.
A field of wheat cloaked in dewy silence
the orchestra tunes up with avian arias
bullfrog basses and a choir of cawing crows,
xanthic sunflowers turning their heads to better see,
the daylight trajectory commencing with lazuline layering,
a breeze glissandoes on harps of oak leaves
tomorrow is now today,
and I am grateful.
An officer of the law taps on my door
my breath and heartbeat screech to a sudden stop
preparing for the next-of-kin speech, or
where-were-you-on-the-night-of-the-23rd interrogation,
instead she informs me my car is ten inches in the red
and with a smile suggests I move it before I get a citation
pulse resumes as oxygen reunites with lungs,
and I am grateful.
A mask sitting by the front door; my ticket to commerce
the media replaying riot scenes, lockdown measures,
sporting event cancellations, worship restrictions,
death tolls, closed restaurants, and drive-by graduations.
Yet I am virus-free, housed, gainfully employed,
surrounded by family and electronically socialized,
I have my necessities: I am well-fed, well-loved,
and I am grateful.
written 30 Aug 2020
~
Morning dew melodies whispering soft,
harmonies dream on the wind
Scented illusions of days in the past
and those about to begin
Choruses blooming in amethyst shades,
sweet as the day’s precious glow
Penned in the key of to never forget,
symphonic breezes a’ flow
Beneath a sunrise of violin vistas
precious this garden of song
Petals in piccolo solos are beaming
hoping you will sing along
Listen as marigold arias play
now as the day it does start
Find every note is performed just for you
composed by the love in my heart
~
Imagine if all the krill
Beneath the ice shelves were dead.
Millions plus millions of krill
Fodder for ocean’s creatures:
Penguins, walrus, whales.
In the end all will die and the ocean
Will be a poorer place for all.
Imagine if all the trees
Would lose all their leaves for ever.
No Autumn splendour,
No fruit, no place where to hide.
Would we not be living
In pure disaster?
Imagine if there would not be any wind.
No music to inspire,
No words to adorn the arias,
No emotion on men’s faces.
We thrive on emotion.
And what is emotion if not poetry?
We simply cannot live without it.
20 January 2021
Placed 2
Can You Imagine - Any form Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Constance La France
I've somehow pondered about the
rush of air
of how I could be lulled on billows, and
yet,
its notes upon my flesh eludes me--
as if in midnight trailing, weeping in refrains
this cadence glides beyond
streetlamps
on to my litanies, my expectations, my
tears
until I'm drenched by a melody ambient
as the sound of breeze.
Like a rain-child born in January
with taps in my veins, I become
a listener of seasons' tingling tunes
which inhabit my thoughts : and to
know my heart's kept secrets are
cuddled through this rhythmic hisses,
arias of both my dark and lustrous hours.
Now I trace the reel of fleeting memories dating from youth to mid- adult...this old wind chime wrapped in chrome
and antique stones fondle
timeless music whipped by storms,
rhapsodies, deaths of my
life...a hanging rune delivering me
from all I must bear--
though owned by Mom's as a hoard or collection, it was my precious harbinger:
but it echoes no more
in spaces where I loved, and still
need to love back...
Gazing at this chime of four decades drifting gently on the room knob, it has
become mute, aged... but cared for like a most treasured keepsake.
10-20-23
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
autumn serenade
autumn spreads her wings
arias of tawny hues ~
summer drifts to sleep
amber moon rises
pumpkins reflect twilight song ~
shadows breathe cobwebs
streams of orange leaves
flow in tangerine torrents ~
fall river medley
streamlets slowly flow
red leaves twirl on lazy swells ~
rainclouds harmonies
mischievous fall winds
robs boughs of golden solos ~
bittersweet in bloom
harvest serenade
leaves drip with crimson splendor ~
sapphire skies sing blues
I dream poetry;
I breathe poetry, for poetry
calls your name, feeling your
inerrant essentia—
your soul bleeds into mine—
a collision of cosmos,
diffused magnetically, once
a vagrant in a haze of miasmic
vapors—wildered and exposed—
you unshackled me from
this purgatory;
inversely immersing me in
your sphere of solace, and
blooming artistry,
lulling the vast polarities
splintering each layer of my veracity.
I dream poetry,
for your love drizzles
burgeoning constellations, amid
rosette sepals galvanizing my
orphic nuclei, with
every spark we sigh,
tethered to the infinite composition
of our unwavering love compellingly,
beyond heaven and earth,
devoted to you—
your fallen star; no longer silent, circling
nocturne arias entwining our destiny.
Sometimes, there is, between the lines,
a silence, that trembles with unspoken goodbyes
Expectant and charged, like a theater scene,
in the moments before the curtains rise.
In the dream that I'm in, I am southward bound,
so I assume it is autumn
And it resounds through the changing season
with the words never said, things never did
and with more forgiveness, and threads
of reason and understanding
....
Debris fills the gutters, and shades are drawn
Wild thorn-berries have been picked,
Trees are barren, naked, without a sound
Grief is thick, from the fog that was a cloud
And through limbs of questions never asked,
each branch has stretched with some neglect
and light of sun, still filters through
holding deep regret
Leaves are adrift, as if disturbed,
littering a speachless sky
Unfettered words we never cried
clamor up against the sky
still pleading to be heard.
Leaves are crushed and swept away,
by a bridled hesitation.
No summer arias have ever been sung,
and words to say have disappeared.
Vaporized and turned to dust
Sunlight dims, and I am thrust
into the void of too many wasted years
______________________________________________
100 In A Row Contest: #18
Sponsor PD
Wind-driven, deceptive, mysterious,
cries vixen's pulsating, debauchery
with haunting arias, mesmerizing!
The lighthouse, fearlessly, captivated,
by siren's symphonic orchestrations
shines brighter, exclaiming calamity!
She cautions vigilant navigators...
fog's mirage masquerades mortality!..
______________________________
Inspired by Nette's Contest: The Lighthouse
9/23/14 By Carrie Richards
How Does a Soul Enter Heaven?
How does a soul enter Heaven?
Suddenly. Often quietly. Whole and Complete.
Stepping through the flimsy membrane of time
On scented leaves of healing for the nations
Born from earth’s womb into once blinding glory
Lead along in a mysterious path of crossroads
Detours and mystical coincidence
A struggling bud bursting into full bloom
Beholding for the first time the Anointed face
No longer veiled in holy incense from eye bound eyes.
How does the soul enter Eternity?
Knowing its need for God in finality’s answer
All deliriums answered
In a charismatic kiss
Prodigal rags of empty pits,
Valleys of compassion left homeless
And piercing arrows of shattered words
Fall away
No Eden’s shame for the unclothed soul
Shining alabaster in luminescent pearls.
How does a soul enter Paradise?
Turmoil – forgotten; Temptation – overcome;
Rejection – forgiven;
Psalms of sweet arias sing reveries
Of prayers prayed, cloaks shared –
A simple cup of water –
The way made straight in a pledged troth
The bridegroom’s betrothal consummated
Eternal sigh beneath trees by the crystal fountain
In the open arms of pure grace.
How does a soul enter Heaven?
To words of welcome – good and faithful servant.
2-4-23
Wan is the hiemal world outdoors,
The biting breeze blows bitter,
like a blizzard building in momentum,
Cold creeps in through the closed windows,
But his harmonic heart is happy and warm,
touched by tantalizing tingles of tender tunes.
~ silent violins play violet symphonies ~
The mystery of mauve melodies mesmerise his mind,
as he is lost within his mellifluous macrocosm;
Intoxicated with invigorating inspirations,
he experiences euphonious euphoria,
Forgetting the frost and frozen fingertips,
he hums sweet sonatas in the making.
~ soothing arias arouse amethyst emotions ~
A string of soft heliotrope strains
brush away the brumal brutality,
And even as the notes swell, they quell the chill,
The warbling waves wind up in a waltz,
resonating sizzling rhythms all around the room;
Content with cantatas serenading magenta Maestoso.
~ lilac lyrics light up lavender legacies ~
Life is a song,
incomplete, yet soothing—
lullabies lulling the world to sleep
with its balladic lilt, gently swaying
to the depths of its nomadic
syncopation.
Where I can subdue archaic
hieroglyphics in hues of
rose gold notes, invading my
tentative aura, glistening upon
tragic horizons,
for the wandering seekers,
freely waltzing to arias of the moon,
escaping unsung passages to
desolate wastelands,
where fiends roam in spite;
surviving the clusters of
rain drenched clouds,
draining the life out of
sunken nocturnes,
lost in cataclysmic paradoxes
overshadowed by waves of
monotonous soliloquy.
Yet I crave the aphotic harmonies of
its flesh and bones,
cocooned in the stillness of
shadows that align,
stonewalling the
world so bent on exposing me—
finding my true element,
inhabiting where life meets its end credits,
resuscitating sentiments long forgotten,
enabling me to breathe.
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.
Quote by: Melancholy Of Innocence
LOVE is the spark within the speck illuminated & suspended in a sunbeam.
A ray of sunbeam falls across her face as she plays piano
a warm sunlight caresses the keys and brings to life
memories of love that bloom like noon day sun
Suspended in time like a soft sonata lingering on the mind
sensual, sexy, like a silk chemise wafting in the wind
yesterday's story sits unsung, arias captured OH! my heart
Here in her forever she sings softly to no one in particular
habile as the sentinel that perches and then soars
the illumined face of an Angel, a speck a spark of LOVE
that no amount of silence can clothe....