Best Canorous Poems
Floccinaucinihilipilification And Very Little Bread
( First of Three Poem Trilogy )
I
I've no problem with bardolatry fans
their barmecide and oft humorous rants.
Give me golden words not found in empty cans,
not bawbee's from those with sad, empty pants.
Truly I enjoy, bright golden attic wit,
creators of canorous verse that soars.
Those I may share bumbo and be a big hit
not with callithumpians that so sorely bores.
Nor do I fancy to become a bichon frise,
beholding to those with comminatory ways.
Finding some will cut you off at the knees
as a criticaster dariole for fugacious pay.
Floccinaucinihilipilification,
judged by Flews that chatter in morbid tune.
Give me saudade and a sandy beach vacation
with very little scrippage in the month of June.
Aye, no snollygoster soucouyant will do,
for my heart and soul begs sun-grazing songs.
Not a superbious umbriferous critic or two,
with the poet's soul this body truly belongs.
Seeking no uroboros legacy my ink doth stain
as a soulcatcher with a selkie as a muse.
Alone, in this rawky terrain my life will remain
for solitude and honor my poet's heart doth choose.
I've no problem with bardolatry fans
their barmecide and oft humorous rants.
Give me golden words not found in empty cans,
not bawbee's from those with sad, empty pants.
Truly I enjoy, bright golden attic wit,
creators of canorous verse that soars.
Those I may share bumbo and be a big hit,
not with callithumpians that so sorely bores.
Robert J. Lindley, 3-21-2018
Rhyme
Note:
Make of this what you will,
I give thus and surely shall send no bill
Yet in my poet's heart my soul oft grieves
for the Autumn colors not the decaying leaves
For the heart that yearns to write and truly give
and the mortal soul that writes to live
With inked symbols and a mind tired of toil
wading through worlds filled with pride and hidden turmoil
I write with purpose to give to others, not to take
tho' oft my poet's heart over burning coals some gladly rake.
Categories:
canorous, appreciation, art, character, meaningful,
Form:
Rhyme
So, what is the best theme for
a poem? No guarded secret, all themes --
Freely to Roam! And what, the prescribed
destination or direction? Wherever the poet,
himself, deems worthy of fond or pertinent
affection –
Poetic Theme (extended metaphor)
So, what is the best theme for
a poem? No guarded secret, all themes –
Freely to Roam! And what the prescribed
destination or direction? Only those fond
and pertinent, giving affectionate-justification as
reason for procrastination – to linger in a moment's
subtle discovery – the courses followed only those
which the poet deems entrancingly divine – he seeks
heartfelt permanent encampment – or just an
amicable pause, in a neighboring field, fertile for
blooming enchantment; with his companion pen, to chronicle
canorous visuals, fervently inspired – or simply folksy,
lyrical rides; for the poet, alone, decides where his poetry lives
or temporarily abides –
(his muse, never far off – nearby, perhaps reflecting in the shade of a flowering
fruit tree: heaped in petals, not trying to hide – more enjoying the velvety feel of an
apple before the outer peel, though colorful, would be far too bitter for his present
aromatic meal) – muse and poet, composing through a single eye. Writing as one:
sharing new sights – sounds with scent – their mind dutifully toward poetry
bent – shades of detail, mellifluously transcending common scheme and rhyme –
incanting verse worthy of a brief performance, or immortal, blessed shrine –
It's all fair, such dulcet affair! All subjects! All seasons! – preferring spring, in which to self-lavish and spiritually entwine. Therefore, his paths are fanciful, never truthful as definitive
would define; often choosing glitter over harsh realty, yet can be a prophet and oracle if a troubling-time -- though never, a ruling class mime; – in this sense, he is a likable charlatan, a chimerical rebel...irreconcilable passion his soulful crime, therefore not ever exhibited, an atoning-word or act of sorrowful contrition – so loved by God, who gags at his counterpart, the lying politician.
Categories:
canorous, perspective, philosophy, poetry, poets,
Form:
Free verse
Written: June 14, 2023
Pick-A-Title, Vol 37 - Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Edward Ibeh
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Amidst the rolling hills and verdant green,
Lies a land of arcane, almost Xanadu if seen.
A place of ariose where dreams are born,
And the sun rises each day as an auric crown.
In this Elysian land, time seems to stand still.
Worries and troubles fade away, as if by will.
Here, one can find peace and tranquility.
The beauty of nature is its canorous serenity.
Glory in magenta and gold hues in the sky
The birds emit an opera of tunes as they fly.
The aroma of fresh flowers floods the air.
Trees soar high, their limbs rising in a blare.
Going upward, I have faith in my heart.
Through gloomy slopes and twisty parts.
The peaks are starting to come into sight.
Their tops were aurified with golden light.
I wander through this nebulous land of bliss.
And fathom a sensation of perspicuous peace.
I realize that I have embedded my idyllic place,
An oasis of diaphanous passion and grace.
Almost akin to Xanadu, an island of dreams.
It motivates me with whispered schemes.
The seal of the blessing of a utopian paradise
A realm where loveliness is eternal never dies.
Categories:
canorous, analogy, appreciation, beauty, sky,
Form:
Rhyme
“The wound is the place where the Light enters you.” Rumi
Upon my quest for quintessence.
I was an amorist,
positive in poetic philosophies.
Elysian and empyrean effigies,
enlightened in an ephemeral existence.
Life a fragile garland
festooned with a frangipani fragrance,
meandered in meadows of melodies,
a mouthpiece to a frivolous flute
but gone are lucent lusory lullabies.
I turned to the ballad of birds.
Dulcet desires dreamed of diamond drops,
dulcifluous, dulciloquent and diaphanous.
Delusions led to an interpretation of illicit illusions.
I became a metaphor for afflicted adjectives.
Mimesis mind became brittle and barren,
aphonic and amort - a crestfallen conscious.
A wild wallflower in an orchard of opal orchids,
slowly decomposing - in silent semblance
clocks won't stop for sojourners of the soul..
I searched for footprints left behind,
upon porcelain seraphic shores,
but knavish kismet lay lamenting,
disconsolate upon a distant island,
manifesting murmurations of a
maleficent maelstrom monsoon.
My life was once a
razzmatazz of reflections
gold, ivory and bronze,
but now silver sighs slither,
releasing a soft susurrus,
as once sapphire sylphlike skies are
now vermillion and violet visions.
Haematic horizons close the gates to heaven,
yet in my ruins, I know there is fortune,
as I polish my mirror of misfortune,
hoping it glows in canorous colours.
Categories:
canorous, angst, emotions, how i
Form:
Alliteration
Written: November 24, 2024 for contest Sponsored by: Kai Michael Neumann
__________________________
In a calyx of ambivalent dreams,
where shadows swirl as silken strands,
I slip through the surface,
a sailboat in a tide of thoughts,
where colors speak in whispers,
and sounds weave a tapestry
of guffaw and sighs.
I am an astronaut,
zipping into a cosmos of canorous clangor
past comets with names such as chimera
and planets blooming with a corpulent deluge
simmering under layers of desultory dust,
each a sun waiting
to ignite an encomium spark.
Footfalls on the ledge of splendor,
swirling in circles,
a kaleidoscope of moments —
jumping from the quicksilver
of a fleeting glance,
to the deep sinkhole of silence,
where time slows to the pulse of heart.
Here, on this canvas of perception,
the boundary of self dissolves,
melting into the esoteric ocean
and excruciatingly eviscerated thoughts
are squid jauntily joined by caring currents,
amber-colored fires dancing on the horizon,
unraveling secrets hidden in their stings.
I chase shadows,
those swift-painting phantoms,
a ghostly gap in gnarled grooves of life,
seeking sincerity in a swirl of sights —
the stillness of awareness,
longing wrapped in vibrant coils,
darkness stitched with fragile threads of light.
In stillness, I stroll.
feeling every pulse evolve into a quilt of colors.
tracing trails tracked by supple notions.
as the clock spins dizzy tales —
my pen touches the sky,
gathering glimpses in gradients of glides.
a jaunt laced with lingering layers.
charting caverns of concealed aspirations.
where wisdom blooms in wild gardens,
Inviting all intrepid inclined to intrude
the twinkling, tantalizing tones
of existence, endlessly entwining
every exhale an echoing essence.
of something that yearns.
to be liberated and let loose.
Categories:
canorous, analogy, meaningful,
Form:
Free verse
Long needle pines
chant in a gentle breeze.
I sit motionless. Bathed
in the canorous drone,
feel the tremors
of life’s longing,
the ring of ageless wisdom,
sense the strength
of stoic serenity.
Would that I could take root
and join them
…….in their moment.
5/15/2022
Wisdom from Trees Poetry Contest
Categories:
canorous, life, nature, tree, wisdom,
Form:
Free verse
"Beauty surrounds us, but usually we need to be walking in a garden to know it." Quote By Rumi
___________________________________________
Several tears, one after the other.
A sob wave pulls me forward in a gossamer haze.
unable to breathe—shivering with inure fear.
Why do feelings spiral out of grasp and ravel?
or worry keeps raging through my mind?
consider a world devoid of vestigial musings.
Complete silence; I am gasping for air.
wheezing, heart pounding, lungs screaming.
for breath, I cling desperately to the blankets.
My most arcane emotions flow unnoticed.
No lyrical ariose tunes to soothe my spirit.
in the lack of an auric metaphor
How would my day be lacking canorous poetry?
Clangor skin was covered in spiked tears.
Fingers rub my chimera, and eyes ensue.
Without poetry to calm, my anguish will burst
Without the cooling verses, I was crestfallen
Without a voice to express, how would I wish?
If artists believe that clay may depict furtive views,
Poets prefer paper and ink to immortalize their muse.
Categories:
canorous, animal, appreciation, inspirational, poetry,
Form:
Free verse
Written: June 22, 2023
A Brian Strand Premiere No 1225 Poetry Contest Sponsored by: Brian Strand
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In a diaphanous café amidst the Parisien city's light,
Where lemon meringue waltz with dulcet delight,
Laughter echoes, filling shadows with glee,
A cerulean blue sky above sets dreams free.
Strings strumming lavender notes tones,
Mellifluous hues, a canorous concert unknown,
Vibrant chords dancing upon the air,
Susurrous secrets, elysian melodies so rare.
Hints amorous in coral empyreal sheen,
Zaftig's radiant smile, a mesmerizing scene,
Eyes shimmering with secrets untold,
A story of wistfulness waiting to unfold.
In the City of Lights, where dreams arise,
A summer's tale unfolds before our eyes,
As the sun aurified the skies in hues of gold,
And secrets of the heart elicit to unfold.
Beneath the stars that twinkle and ignite,
We dance to the rhythm of the Parisian night,
Inhibitions lose, our souls set free,
A taste of cynosure bliss, for you and me.
Categories:
canorous, analogy, appreciation, beauty,
Form:
Rhyme
Written: November 14, 2023
_______________________________________________
We ventured into everlasting words
Cast-off Calix of clear canvas
Each concept basks in sunlight,
Our souls are depicted in blood
Our views overlap on each page
Blooms in the orchard are sprouting.
Our fingers flutter across the keys
In this seductive word melody,
We morph into the cynosure
Forthwith faraway frigid fiefdom,
But now, just via our whispered secrets
Our spirits may finally breathe here.
Words are written in ink on a nebulous canvas.
Skillfully crafted tapestry of throe emotions
Such a syllable is a solemn stroke,
Stripes serve as strokes of sorrow
Where canorous whispers are the norm,
We design a vivacious home for hearts
The quixotic drawing is finally full of life
Our words earn such a glorious graphic
A saffron sun caresses each letter
With kindness and gentleness.
In a world of amaranthine ambition
We decry quiddity in syntax,
A haven for the pellucid and broken
An oasis amid a shattered sphere
With every hushed revelation
Repairs and revamps are what we do best,
Weaving countless love tales.
So let us sustain writing
The panacea of hushed truths,
Where our spirits entwine
And our musings live in perpetuity.
Inscribed on the nexus of history,
We decry solace in this space,
Discovering, deciphering, and divinity,
Secrets that echoed soft susurrus.
Conveyed by the winds of destiny
Show us where hearts can connect
Words have curing and stirring power,
They can ignite the flames of craving
Embrace the power of the pen,
As we pen our muttered secrets.
Categories:
canorous, analogy, appreciation, character, emotions,
Form:
Free verse
JAMES ANDREW FRASER
J...uly 2014 when our lives began to meld
a...way we are but the eight thousand distance
m...otion hungry hearts during dolesome hours,
e...yes openned, we cushioned empathic euphony
s...inging canorous chorus fertilizing our lonesome air.
A...mbulance sent by Father God arrived
n...udging anthologies, streaming prismatic colors to our pen
d...rawing us closer and closer than ever before. Sad
r...umblings from yesterday
e...rupt, shuddering our reveries;
w...eakening our pulse, quickening our nerves.
F...rom Bonnie Highlands of Scotland, there my love grew
r...amping around with eyes of blue and a height six feet two
a...rmed with dashing looks, good attitude,
s...ummer-kind of heart, he always shines through, TRUE!
e...nthusiast to music and the art too. I pray
r...hymes he scribbles may never ever run few!
____________________________________________________________________
*+*Dedicated to James Andrew Fraser
HaPpY HaPPy HApPy BirThday!!!*+*
__Olive Eloisa D. Guillermo__
7:00 am ; January 04, 2015
Categories:
canorous, dedication, people, poets,
Form:
Acrostic
You’re my love song in the morn, my babes in blue.
Dressed in sweet smiles, my blessing of two.
On God's path, I dance along
with whom I belong,
my joyous
song.
Canorous -
tender souls grow strong,
bright leaves on my tree lifelong,
my future, my hope, my sunny view.
You’re my love song in the morn, my babes in blue.
Categories:
canorous, blessing, children, love,
Form:
Rhyme
Beautiful Day
Blue sky hangs above;
Canorous birds sing to me,
Today my heart swells.
Categories:
canorous, animals, happiness, hope, music,
Form:
Senryu
Anything For YOU
I poetized your name on the sky with my blood as the ink
I kept my eyes frozen to admire the beauty of your eye blink
I summoned Sakura flowers on the pavements beneath your feet
I studiously counted the flow of my love inside each of your heartbeat
Just tell me what else should I do to make you love me..!
Shall I carve out a majestic aurora using your canorous voice?
Shall I catch those dazzling stars from every blink of your eyes?
Shall I coerce the Moon to dance according to the flux of your hair?
Shall I ask the rainbow to entertain you when you're in despair?
Tell me!Tell me! Tell me! What should I do to make you love me?
Categories:
canorous, lovelove,
Form:
Romanticism
Oh my dearly beloved sister,
I'll come as the raindrops to sleep on your flowery heart
Nothing in this Universe possesses the power to set us apart
Compared to you and me, Monalisa is not the greatest art
When you are alone, I'll will be right with you as your breath
You are the equation for every single deliberation I do in math
My soul will still be with you even after I got racked up by death
Oh my dearly beloved sister,
When you become the night sky
I'll embellish you with dazzling technicolour stars
When you ever wanted to cry
I'll make you smile with the tunes of sitars
When your throats are going to dry
I'll cool them with the Sakura's fragrant attar
Whenever you say the word "bye"
I feel the excruciating pain of a thrusting scimitar
Oh my dearly beloved sister,
How could I ever live without your smile by my side
Oh, sincerely, without you, my heart would have dried
The aroma of your canorous words is my greatest pride
The light from your honey-splashing cheeks is my guide
In the paradise, the God had this relation forever tied...
Categories:
canorous, family, love, sistersmile, universe,
Form:
Rhyme
God what is god I know what it is I have seen it he is the door of the canorous singing void.
For he is a great big gaping black hole with sounds of whale calls coming from the heart stopping staring abyss. This beautiful orb leaves a wave to aurify space and time. Out of the black oil pool of shadows a murmuration of charming UFO angels whistling as they soar like a gray bee through the colorful universe. Last thing coming was a ball of gleaming light going into its cocoon of dirt grass and skin to become the gray messiah with a crown of stars soon a legend it shall be.
Categories:
canorous, beauty, dream,
Form:
Free verse