Best Brio Poems
(In 1807, Beethoven wrote a piano/violin
piece with this title. Count Leo Tolstoy
followed in 1890, with a short novel of the
same name, in which he argued that
matrimony can never work.)
What is a marriage? A fusion, or a tether?
Two very different creatures, yoked together?
I was a piano, you a violin:
I, solid, calming, you, discordant, thin,
and laced with bitterness. I was your base,
and you provided brio, flourish, grace.
A lacewing trapped inside a window frame,
yet driven by one blind, unchanging aim,
you struggled up until, played out, defeated,
you fluttered down again, debased, depleted.
A war's a love affair, and love's a war.
We're so inept - or what's a heaven for?
A nest of wasps, my grievances boiled over -
but could there ever be a vita nuova?
We never learned. I hammered pointlessly,
while you abraded. Why could we not see?
And so I played it stately, sad, no frills,
while you kept up your repetitions, trills
and variations. Hovering and wary,
you shunned my structures. Ever more contrary,
you coiled and squirmed in spasms both continuous,
spontaneous, free-wheeling, lithe and sinuous.
It seemed to me the harmony had gone:
we sang on, yes, but each a separate song.
Two butterflies together, intertwined,
we tangled on the same, but different, line.
I want to see you back again,
When you were at the highest eminence of the world,
Flowing, blowing, glowing charms all around,
Accompanied by cherish moments of the world,
Where the depth is beyond the immense height,
And peace manifested all over the world,
The complete harmony, serenity, stillness and calmness of life,
Reside for few decades ago ere in the world,
Now you cornered by evil activist and troubles,
I be your soldier and defend you my world,
Protect, defend and shield you until,
Return Brio and spiritedness, for you my world,
And If I’d be asked to die where?
Replied, whom I care! That part of world,
Shahid, you made frustrated through last rhyme words,
The subject is mere Pakistan and all this is my world.
M. Shahid H. Chouhdry ©
Out the window flows my gaze
Blissfully journeying the horizon,
-- Like the fair sea bestowed per Poseidon --
Lost among secular golden haze.
The sky leered angrily gray
And bitterly cried frigid tears
From the fjords with ducts’ flowing fears
Trapping man like a ghastly cliché.
Chills gripped many a tree
And strangled life from all limbs
Drowning in white like a child without fins
Now life must resurrect debris.
Aye, Apollo ogles over the hidden,
The perfume of life gleams
And so everything seems
To breathe breath brio-ridden.
All in the course of 365 days
Can so much wither or flourish in a bouquet.
Rendered your elixir within flowing fire
turned my head till flames got higher
'neath vapors' influence lustfully burning,
imbibed upon insatiable blushed lips
feverish craving ignited darkly melting hours
intoxicated of ravenously absorbed flamings
zealous ardor pulsing beyond desires,
hungry to the bone poured of unrelenting fervor
skin soaked in mania's intensified voracity,
unrestrained cries out resonating wanton tongues
dizzying gypsy soul dripping sinfully impassioned
liquid quenching glow farther impulsive madness,
scent of mounting sensitivity's rush marinating
'neath rhythmical torrid undulations gushing
through every explosively satiated vessel,
breathlessness melded 'tween kindled ascendancy
exploiting drunkenness of volatile ardent spirits
“Drink wine. This is life eternal. This is all that youth will give you. It is the season for wine, roses and drunken friends. Be happy for this moment. This moment is your life.”
Omar Khayyám
Lady Melanie with silver locks
Loved her bonbons, bagels, and graved lox.
Curmudgeon geezers viewed her a fox,
But she loved them less than chicken pox.
Melanie kept free as best she could.
She allowed no time for coquetry
Or Penelope-style stitchery.
But three bores persistence understood.
Trini, a jet jockey CEO
Lived his life allegro con brio.
As his lovely red Lamborghini,
His love raced too fast for Melanie.
Claude, a failed nebulous maunderer,
Gossip, post-modern philosopher
Believed everything in life was free,
Which made sweet Mellie his property.
Her third paramour drove flat-bed trucks.
When Bo misspoke, he would say “Aw shucks!”
And then, hands on, wordlessly switch gears.
She cast him off leaving him in tears.
Single she may wait until too late,
For a blissful bridal altar state.
Should her three bores e'er face a hot date
At least she shall stand at heaven’s gate.
Outside new rose buds contemplate
the future, should we bloom or no,
and tempt our own vermillion fate?
We are not winter's afterglow,
they muse, but amulets of grace,
consider buildings stacked in place
without decorum or brio!
Which is the greater of the two
in March--intentions must not mar
the garden cloister--to eschew
the world or flutter like a star
or horse manes lilting in the breeze?
Remember thus: our pedigrees
grant entree to a love's boudoir!
Iambic Tetrameter
aba bccb ded effe
3/3/18
A moment of ecstasy, of being a mother,
A reverie of life gratified.
I saw a glitter as you opened your tiny eyes,
My very existence glorified.
Your charming brio and unsaid words,
Graced us with your fervor.
You smile, sit, stand , walk and run around,
Your little hands, tender kisses and sweet rhymes.
Your first day to school,your excitement,
Adored by teachers, grew to a vivacious being.
As you unveil your intellect, rise towards achievement of
your goals,
Stand alpine with persuation, blessed with no dearth,we all
beamed with pride.
How could I let slip of my memory,
Joyous days when we resembled,
And few sad days of fight when tears rolled down the eyes.
A congruous relationship we had for all those golden
eighteen years.
Myriad thoughts occupy my mind,
I dream of the day when you reach to absolute .
God bless you dear son! With His immensity,
May you stand sovereign, embellished with perseverance
!!
Written June 7th, 2013
Awarded HM
shrapnel of empty hearts bent on violence
envious of your enchanting beauty
demanding complete control
finding intimacy only through destruction...
when will you learn the ways of love?
stop trying to prove you are right
for we are all wrong in this war
all we want is a warm cup of tea
to hear our children's laughter
kneeling reverently at our elder's knees
to behold the whispers of love and safety
surrounding our doorsteps with a cross, a crescent, and a star
amalgamating into the azure brio entwined above- L Maria
I am attracted by
Virtuous notes
A capable sound
From a Steinway & Sons grand piano
A mighty orchestra
Unknown melodies
A child prodigy at the keyboard
A Gift of Peace
The hammer that strikes golden strings
Of a grand piano.
Bravo. Hurrah.
A Laurel, a performance hardly heard
Attentive spectators rejoice
The vaults of the concert hall
Reflect corpulent sounds
Gershwin’s Allegro or Lento
'Scherzo Con Brio' without hardship
The child pianist
That angels also listen
Of a talent that inebriates like wine
And the key to a distant remembrance
It is now a choral
Then a horn sound
Of at an Imperial Andante
Then the violins all around
Fiery Rondo. Dreamy adages.
Arpeggio and a madrigal
Finally, the Grand Finale
Without hesitation
seminal squirt didst sanctify
an anonymous boulder
when mercury dipped below
hashtag mark registering colder
than usual temperatures circa
winter of year 2000 in proximity
to the sacred chapel
at Valley Forge, Pennsylvania
(house zing carillon player)
rifling thru manilla folder
first inn search of apropos
mailer daemon organ muse sic,
thence finely pitted secretly riddled with holes
encoded sheet threaded thru bell jar contrivance
sans, handy dandy mechanical holder
to accompany prurient powerful phallic pang
bubbling (like the dick kens), and didst smolder
especially, cuz a free ranging
NON GMO, puss in boots
hello kitty sauntered
(emanating pheromone heat
hand dill lee pronouncing feral passe faux foots),
dripping, seething with hormonal secretion
uttered via vow welled roots
gluten and monosodiumglutinate free pussy
hapt tabby on the prowl ready
for par laid view penile piqued Saint Peter
to enter heavenly labial shoots
rather than suffer frost bite
the above mew wing tigress attempted
to keep toasty warm
('thou minuscule tunnel
lacked add dick quit light)
prickly endowment fired
raging testosterone
with braggadocio, brio, bravura and might
owing pretentiously pusillanimous feline
fur reed black as night
hood hit attempt to cap cha moxie orgasmic
thus ensuing a mutually satisfactory plight
until a park ranger back his utility truck
than gregarious, felicitous, erogenous
then quick as greased lightening
horny creatures disappeared out ta sight.
My heart felt old; I sought the cold.
Canada’s land was what I planned.
Among trees grand and far inland
To dance my sad brand of sarabande.
Yet precious moments come when joy flowers,
Far briefer than Four-O’clocks,
As resurrected visions composed of spectral smoke,
Reignite our love in brief rapture; abruptly fading.
Far from the shores I now abhor
Where eyes of blue were wrenched from view;
A grisly depart for my sweet heart -
A rag doll tossed and dragged into the deep.
Winter trees in chiaroscuro
Cuffed by icicles grip and snow.
Dark, defrocked beeches beseeching;
Limbs pleading for the sap of Spring.
Staring into those leafless woods
As cotton obscurity falls;
And gloaming passes into night,
Something I see sheds its dark veil.
Life bursts anew; I plainly view
Your windswept raven hair framing
Jeweled eyes and lips set in tan
An amaranthine vision of
Our ancient love, so evergreen
Waiting sweetly in the deep snow.
So near, so there, but not now here
A snapping branch broke quietude.
Daring damsel of Tavira,
My heart still glows at thoughts of thee
Cuddled close on Algarve beach
White wave swash foam tickling our toes.
Our brash love was a high wire act
Done without any safety net.
Diving the sky, diving the deep;
Scaling the peaks; dancing in Rio.
Passion flowed allegro con brio;
Alloying us ‘neath moon and sun.
Until you vanished in the swirling sea
West of the sandy swath of Algarve.
Stolen, seized by a great white shark
As your surfboard raced past mine.
Absent your smile my life seems spent
As if impaled on Triton’s trident.
Yet precious moments come when joy flowers,
Far briefer than Four-O’clocks,
As resurrected visions composed of spectral smoke,
Reignites our love in brief rapture, abruptly fading.
2/11/2019
Sponsor: Edward Ibeh
Aye admit, an author's adept
and adroit mastery
to link words together subtly crept
(expressing contents
in a matter of fact
understandable fashion, except
for dissertations and/or kept
jargon for exclusive specialty)
posits, that my wordy verbosity,
revelation, viz "EUREKA" suddenly leapt
administers cerebral, harmful
offal psychological usury
verdict I accept
fomenting gobbledygook concept
might create notion, yours truly inept,
plus incorporating confessional backswept
facets of writerly person,
as sigh nearly wept
(drafting previous poem,
sans book review
like an emotional bit torrent windswept
"And I Don't Want
to Live This Life" anchored in concept,
qua raw maternal did severely intercept
the motherly bond Deborah Spungen
felt toward zombified miskept
incorrigibly, horribly, grievously...
tormented first born
or momentenous insept
begetting impregnation and early labor
Nancy Laura Spungen since birth,
perhaps seeped when aye slept
into nooks and crannies of subconscious,
though one could breeze thru said book
such evocative anguish left
me numbly bereft, yet acutely aware
to vicariously experience devastating agony!
No matter existence (mine) lamely, mostly, and nearly spent...
I barely experienced
getting clothed (think fashion wise
as metaphorically swiftly tailored
harried styled mortal)
approaching naked truth
regarding life, liberty
and pursuit of happiness..,
nonetheless yours truly forever gropes
in the darkness of ignorance analogous
to imagined (envisioned) asymptote
demarcating experiential enlightenment
heading toward verity of righteousness,
yet never subtending arc of enlightenment.
Quite the contrary woebegotten mortal
forthwith struggling to acquire
consciousness raising awareness
approximating essential virtue
offset (er... rather severely deflected)
toward pitfall of vice
(comprising gamut of lurid temptations),
which default status
exerts overwhelming, overpowering, overemphasizing
draw (think powerful magnetic force).
I frankly, grievously, and honestly attest
predilection finds this hoary beastie boy
scarcely able to tread water swiftly rising
above his hairless fabby, & doughy chest,
where left and right man boobs delineate
miniature (albeit sagging) Mount Everest
quite obviously feeble human specimen
(farcical) gentleman quarterly not hottest
male within Schwenksville, Pennsylvania,
nor anywhere upon oblate spheroid, he jest
I kibitz re: absent good humor lie bull lest
stubbornly refusing to leave debauchery
rather remain holed up within rats nest
steeped in familiarization re: egg guarding
hen pecking (matt er fact) Harris sing pest,
where no spring chicken thwarts impossible
mission (mother clucker sabotages rooster)
offsetting opportunities to experience nirvana
quaffing electric koolaid acid test brew rest
assured (me not snorting while typing) test
ting out (lit Miss, really haint no chore), and
merely sounding out prospects to make vest
head interest for prosperous friendship with
brio, extra mayo, sauteed onions and zest.
inescapably booby trapped in the region of self
anticipating illumination with a dopey grin
and a grimy determination masked by ungodly brio
gimme your best shot you goose stepping goons
you Ragnarok brothers of Odin and his Twinkie dancers
If I weren't one of you you wouldn't exist
right here where my pencil fornicates the vellum
the confederation of misfits get what they deserve
what do we deserve what devolved practice
continues to move our arms and mouths
in the direction of justice and of merit
in the company of demiurges and beatitudes
endlessly considering the direction of Fate
in the manner of men cheetah headed and scarred
yet survival requires data and survival is future
so add future to your shopping list at checkout time
all reality is calculable there are enough numbers
and furthermore there is still enough curiosity
left over from the great War of Cognitive Suppression
Galactic rule number one nothing forced
volitional free will sacred and deadly precious
his consciousness far from its source of thought
he continued without the slightest reason why
of course it is all but a mental reproduction
we all worship the Grand Master of Disguise
a meme-written forehead in uncharted waters
he slid his pawn forward to end the muddle
love is not all you need you need smarts
if the world is to be a correctable world
fabled dons of economics playing dumb on cue
corruption ran in deep ocean trenches
the life spark mystery rarely discussed
free from the tradition of taboos and fetishes
fixation and more fixation the gaze never shifts
soon swept away by their uninformed zeal
and a sense of inviolate justification
with which to welcome the new plantation
Who decides what historical events adorn
textbooks students read,
hence a starry notion born
grew up while
this lumpenproletariat day dreaming,
Asian aw shucks husky
husbandry furrowed brow gritty farmer
barnstorming across
expansive fields of baby
(barely) barley corn
crib bed crop 'pon harvest time,
(an maize zing genre), especially
when enriched with humus
laden loamy muck cob bra,
then aye delightfully
trumpet from dehorn
of good 'n plenti kernel Sanders gave me
saluting rank and file fool's capped
fecund fashioned earthborn
dunce sing tassels,
versus growing seasons gone by,
when draught of ideas forlorn
despite futilely blowing on my flugelhorn
high and dry reap peat head paltry yield,
asper when this strapping chap
a sweaty backed greenhorn
pondering why agrarian laborious life of toil
omitted as part and parcel of "newsworthy"
posterity sagas deeming
shenanigans of highborn
and/or "FAKE" headlines crowd inborn
noble folks,
who grease palms of industrialists,
whose quaking self importance
thwarts aside rural cosseted
krummhorn grounded bumpkin mor'n
how kapellmeister coaches bourgeoisie
helping determine
zero absolute value of newborn
fated to slave away
till body electric outworn,
yet paradigm shift of
(butter late then ever)
jiffy popcorn version
sown by seeds of Jethro Tull,
whose bonhomie with brio didst reborn
agricultural revolution took root,
whence before long some did scorn
and lamented machinations
ordered simple existence ripped and torn,
where antithetical views suppressed
and unto revolutionaries
became legion and well-worn.