Best Caliginous Poems
“instrumentalising mind, I rested thought
employing it only when needed
shifting to heart, I became self-taught
gentling touch, voice of conscience heeded” ~ Unseeking Seeker
When thoughts purge in restlessness,
we pause the frequency of the mind,
allowing the rhapsodies
of the rosemary heart
to compose lyrics of
life in sync with sandalwood serenity…
I am a gossamer ribbon,
drifting across
caliginous cloudscapes,
like a delicate trace
of greying gloaming,
listening to the eerie requiems
ricocheting through the horizon.
But am I to follow the hypnotic lies,
perpetually prompting
my thoughts to ink
crimson confetti of confusion?
For the heart is the window
to the crown chakra,
awaiting the alignment of seven stars,
where the mind remains a mystery,
unreliable and capricious,
like the wind carrying
the sound of raging rain tonight.
O celestial maestro
of the cosmos and beyond,
let fears dissolve into ambient waves,
rippling with rejuvenating radiance,
reflecting seraphic light
from the crooning currents beneath~
tempestuous tides,
while I unchain the confined
chambers of my persona,
to unravel the alchemist within,
that knows not the
dying colors of dusk and dawn,
and reveals emerald auroras
in hibiscus harmony,
amidst the moonless
serenades of the sky~
in sync with my stained consciousness.
So let the dancing dreams
and the divine spirit
manifest through bleeding intuition,
as I open my arms to the sun
singing within his euphoric siesta,
there lakes of lotus ebb and flow in
ethereal themes,
transforming jinxed juniper lilies
into joyous jasmines,
and my voice shall mirror
pristine peonies,
scented with mystical musk,
where the fickleness of existence
is liquidated with lavender scriptures,
for my heart is the
empyrean haven for northern gems,
guiding the glass kayak of survival,
refusing darkness to mask
the kundalini mantras within
the alluring aura of life,
rehearsing self-fulfilling prophecies,
to illuminate silhouettes of
the galaxies in crystalline clarity.
Life, are you a blessing or a punishment?
I'm trying to understand how I'm
a slave to the sculpted version of me.
A prisoner without chains,
upon a path forged with my own hands,
feeling lifeless, drained from
premeditated premonitions.
I'm burning like a caliginous candle,
melting in waxing weepings -
fatigued from flames of rage and regret.
In this sable epoch,
I'm unable to master my mind,
as bitter temperatures trigger tenebrous tones,
I tremble, feeling tremors from corrosive cysts.
Birds remain mute on somber mornings.
When did I become their nemesis?
I've stopped searching for sunshine from absent friends,
or explaining to impatient selfish souls,
too consumed in their internal thoughts.
Maybe the problem is my restless existence,
not in their lack of empathy.
I've always been sober to sorrow,
but I hunger to drink myself to death.
Irritated by smiling, I'm slowly suffocating,
losing all desire for me to breathe -
unable to escape the angst of air.
My eyes are like tender lanterns,
guiding with damp cautious flickers,
craving crepuscule hues,
but all I see is a solemn moon,
wrapped in a blank black hoodie.
My cathartic conscience feels unconscious,
defeated from colourless pastels.
Feeling dejected and dreary,
drenched from misty icy rain,
I walk towards a ghostly passage of muted feet,
searching for shelter in my clandestine cave.
I awoke hoping for a gold and copper dawn,
but only lethargic gloom greeted my spirit.
As I tumble like leaves blowing in the breeze,
I return to nothingness, haunted by wraiths at dusk.
July is the month of monsoon rains in our part of the land when there will be incessant downpour and flooding in coastal areas and low lying lands
In the vast expanse up so high,
In the caliginous July night sky,
A lone star trailed along from Heaven’s arch,
And through hindering clouds it did march.
Its lambent rays dancing in gleeful light,
Making everything luminously bright.
All starlets cowered in shame,
Hiding in corners, fearing blame.
It got stationed above a thatched manger,
Where baby Jesus lay swaddled in rags in rainy weather
Promising the gift of love and joy to mankind
Assuring everyone salvation and peace of mind.
The wind that blows is icy chill
Freezing cold is the water of the rill
Trees stand washed in rain
The sky, in greying clouds remain
Lights from nearby houses shine
Sending out a radiance divine
Christmas trees stand finely decorated
Cribs are colourfully illuminated
Stars and festoons can’t be hung in the open,
As in pouring rain, they may be broken.
July is not a month fit for the king to take birth,
Who has come to bless the world with cheery mirth
Yet, the whole land is vibrant with festivity.
The pouring rain hasn’t doused the gaiety.
Sunshine or rain, no matter the weather,
Friends and family are happy together.
Christmas wraps every heart in cheer,
Though it falls in July, the rainy month of the year!
July.11.2022
Christmas in July or July celebration Poetry Contest
Sponsor- Tania Kitchin
A cool caliginous
night
Crickets in their abode
talking
A desolate street with no
lights
A doddering man
balking
Soon dusk kisses
dawn
Birds are out
chirping
The sun is shining and the curtain
of night has drawn
The exuberance of girls
playing
It was a rainy Wednesday, a lonely night. I was sitting on a wooden chair inside a coffee shop, savoring the aroma and the taste of the newly brewed beans of my Affogato. As I looked outside, the sky was caliginous, no hint of sunlight was found. The clouds were as heavy as my emotions. And slowly, tears began running. Both from the clouds and my eyes.
Before I lived in
A dark and awful planet
'til the day we met
The bell rang. You opened the door. The squeaky sounds your wet shoes created got the attention of everyone. And when you tried to escape embarrassment, you stumbled and I knew you were panicstricken. Our eyes intersected, and for once, I found myself laughing at you.
You ordered a Macchiato. And because there was no available seats anymore, you asked me if you could sit with me. Without saying, without approval, you sat opposite to me.
From there, our novel began. You were the paper, I was the pen. And the ink, the ink was love.
Every Wednesday was our date. In the coffee shop, in the third table on the first row. I would order Affogato and you Macchiato. Everything was always like the first time we met, except the skies were filled with colors of the rainbow. And from there, it made me believe, that every after rain there's always a rainbow.
We are like colors
Glistening when touched by light
Shimmering in sight
And thus, our relationship continued. From months into years, we almost hit a decade. Almost.
If only you didn't lie to me that you're already married. If only you didn't lie to me that you already have two daughters and a son. If only you didn't make me feel like a mistress chasing you. You made me feel what we had was like a rainbow. That even though we had fights, at the end, colors would still shine upon us.
Like rainbow in sky
Every after rain we see
Fades simply, slowly
And so I was the pen and you were the paper. You're already lacking, and the ink that kept us together was already blotting.
11/21/2015
I lay me down in the land of a languorous lull,
A leisurely liaison laxing amidst the silenced still…
No weeping words wander upon the constructive canvas.
The day mourns the nebulous neglected nestled night,
Where the shadows sustain the seductive sorrows…
Condolences for a candlelight as it flickers to foreordination.
Where empty echoes escape through voiceless vapors,
A quiet quiescence quivers as it lies to its rendering riotous rest…
And a calamitous calm causes a chaotic caliginous collective.
A suspended soothe within the overlords of obstinate oblivions,
As tranquilized time is transported to a pensive purgatory prison…
I prepare for the heavens and hells that await my misled muse.
...there has been an anomaly in the space-time continuum...my muse has reached a lull...perhaps this verse will give it spark to ignite it to Super-Nova status lol...
Feb.12.2020
Pick-A-Title, Vol 14 - Tristich
Sponsored by: Edward Ibeh
Placed 1'st...Thank You
With their haunting beauty and calamitous construct
The captivating caves opprobriously obstruct
Ambient anguish heinously hidden
Humbling hearts trapped and love forbidden
Hemispherical hindering in the caves of ice
Where the solace of sorrows silently suffice
Terminal tentacles of the tyrannical snow queen
Quenching her thirst in the salivating smoke screen
Efficacious echoes of loves demise
Suffocating screams surveil and agonise
Benevolent breaths frantically forever frost
Within the caves of the lachrymal lost
As the winter wanders and whimsically waves
For my soul surrenders to the Caliginous Caves.
Aug.04.2016
Caves - Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Anthony Slausen
A song on its tune
Makes others want to sing
A perfect harmony
Affects everyone who listen
Written and sung by someone
A musician with a powerful thinking
But no one knows his identity
Even the title of what he's singing
Harbinger of spring
Caliginous clouds far away
Blooming the green field
Emanating a hopeful sing
For Quadro Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Nette Onclaud
January 12, 2017
Sixth Place
Checked with How Many Syllables Counter
If I only could see that which is beyond the pale of the limitation of
The complexity with which things espial are thus espied.
If the round pasty pastry-
Complete with its rind of crispy, golden-brown, flaky crust,
And the alabastrine creaminess contained both without and within-
Therein, or in here, or wherever is the place where all the modes
And analogues and apotheoses of figurative speech,
And the metaphors and similes and symbols true that they prove to be,
Are housed; within that tremulous sphere, wheeling frenetically in some
Gaseous void out there, beyond the pale of the furthest star,
Beyond the realms charted by stellar cartographies,
In that otherness that is also nothingness,
In the dread, dead void between sidereal bodies coruscating in
The caliginous eternal night of the blank emptiness of space;
In that dim spatiality, where all the metaphors that we use eventually go;
To that endless address whence no man and no thing ever returns,
From that dread and dun locus on which we have assayed to focus;
I say from that there is no repair, nor remove.
Once one is there, that is their address until time indefinite.
Still, if only I could glimpse that which lies beyond the limitations of
Our somehow magnificent, yet insignificant imaginations...
I was down deep in a dark dreamy dream,
wandering a wispy, winding wilderness, where
sounds stabbed at an eerie secret silence;
with roars, rumbles and the rage of riotous birds,
in trees unseen and in branches of twisted tapestry.
When I heard with heartbreak mother's heavenly voice,
calling in the caliginous, obscure gloomy forest canopy;
it was my name and I searched with a narcotic need,
I ran wild, rampant and rapacious wailing WAIT.
Until, I was worn-out weary and woebegone;
I murmured and mumbled- mother, mother . . .
Then, sun blazed like a bath into my bedroom.
____________________________
March 23, 2018
Poetry/Allitertion/Dark Dreamy Dreams
Copyright Protected, ID 03-1484-459-23
All Rights Reserved, 2018, Constance La France
Written for the Standard contest, Alliteration Poem,
sponsor, Silent One, Judged 03/2018
Second Place
Submitted to the Standard contest, A Strand (1052)
sponsor, Brian Strand, Judged 01/16/2022
First Place
I was down deep in a dark dreamy dream,
wandering a wispy, winding wilderness, where
sounds stabbed at an eerie secret silence;
with roars, rumbles and the rage of riotous birds,
in trees unseen and in branches of twisted tapestry.
When I heard with heartbreak mother's heavenly voice,
calling in the caliginous, obscure gloomy forest canopy;
it was my name and I searched with a narcotic need,
I ran wild, rampant and rapacious wailing WAIT.
Until, I was worn-out weary and woebegone;
I murmured and mumbled- mother, mother . . .
Then, sun blazed like a bath into my bedroom.
____________________________
March 23, 2018
Poetry/Alliteration/Dark Dreamy Dream
Copyright Protected, ID 03-1006-184-23
All Rights Reserved, 2018, Constance La France
Written for the contest, Alliteration Poem,
sponsor, Silent One, Judged 03/2018
Second Place
Submitted to the Standard contest, A Strand (1052)
sponsor, Brian Strand, Judged 01/16/2022
First Place
Uncertain future
Drearing solitariness
Wretchedness menace
Caliginous atmosphere
Perquisiting an answer
4-25-2016
Watch
Riposte
Spin, and then
Pique the heart ink
Diffidence showing the appalling link
Firmament encroached; caliginous stars
Ergo; all mars
With but three
Cuts to
Bone
Ah
Remise
Dip again
Ink thus imbued
Recondite quill forthwith shall be renewed
Like many, I masqueraded in shades of urban gray.
I offered my love to the midnight neon angel.
I walked the caliginous streets alone and astray.
She remained distant, alluring, always disdainful.
I courted cynicism, resignation, and despair as my style.
I wore tilted fedoras in smoke-filled reeking bars.
I feigned culture and literacy, trying to look worthwhile.
I blush now, recalling my see-through shooting stars.
Like many, I was just a child renting a man’s body.
I impersonated adulthood with stylized gloom.
I thought maturity was an act, so mine was shoddy.
I donned trench coats, my affectation in any room.
My blinking street angel had seen it all before.
My love for her was simulation and nothing more.