Best Citadels Poems
I hear guitars a’ calling in the gloaming’s final fling
when sinking suns subdue their flames and fairies take to wing
as day departs, a yawning ash, beneath a dusky haze
igniting one by one the jewels of midnight’s diamond blaze.
I hear guitars a’ calling in the clouds within the skies,
with tunes which trill like welling tears from somber misting eyes
of misplaced muted homeless souls who drift alone in grief
beneath the silence of the stars that offers no relief.
I hear guitars a’ calling in the beat beneath her breast;
their murmur throbs with passion’s pulse and sensuous unrest
that rumbles deep in worried woods before impending storms
and splits the air in morning meadows, ere the sunrise warms.
I hear guitars a’ calling in the pitter-patter rain
which summons with a soothing sound upon my window pane
evoking bygone childhood dreams within a vagrant breeze
engulfing me in gusty swirls down misty vortices.
I hear guitars a’ calling in the waves on distant shores;
they’re crashing out a monody upon the mystic oars
of phantom ships within the dawn, like speckled caravels
a’ sail on seas of raven wings to moonlit citadels.
I hear guitars a’ calling in the morning’s reveilles;
they’re pouring fires in the skies and burning up the seas,
while waking flowers in the fields and setting trees ablaze,
and closing one by one the eyes of midnight’s starry gaze.
I hear guitars a’ calling in the deserts of my mind;
they’re nullifying hollow realms that time has left behind,
where pathless sands are blazing hot, the sun is set to die
and weary hounds are panting faint’, their tongues hung long and dry.
Categories:
citadels, music,
Form:
Rhyme
Arise! Oh Heart, from the catacombs of the dead
Shake off the dust, for Life beckons you like a buddy
Peel off the weariness that wraps you like a shroud
And walk to the open to perceive the light.
Arise! Oh Heart, from the dungeons of gloom
The dawn is at your door step, waiting to break
Sing with the lark, merrily warbling in the woods
Dance with the billows, wildly prancing on the deep.
Arise! Oh Heart, from the ghettos of bondage
Break loose the ropes that moor you to the past
Dart through the panorama of the cerulean blue
And fly high into regions, uncharted and new.
Arise! Oh Heart, from the citadels of hate
Listen not to the shrieking and howling behind
Drink from the goblet of conciliating love
And rejoice at the birth of a dawn with promises galore!
Categories:
citadels, cheer up, encouraging, inspirational,
Form:
Free verse
Downward marriage falls seeking some relief
Children follow awkwardly, senses moan
Husband and wife acting out of belief
Three children entering chambers unknown
Locked in battle, the wife reaches for sword
Under advice, she unleashes all hells
Falsely accusing the husband deplored
Of abuse, harm, and hate to citadels
With one stroke of the pen, I was condemned
Guilty 'til proven otherwise I was
Cast out, no home, no gold, no kids, clemmed.
Without, alone, despaired, scorned, for no cause
Time to think, time to ponder, time to pray
My children became my crusade, that day
09/21/17
'Taking a disappointment in your life turning it into something positive'
Form: Sonnet
Sponsored by Brenda Chiri
Categories:
citadels, children, divorce, hurt, husband,
Form:
Sonnet
Thus I sail the sacrificial scabrous seas and touch tormented tides
Battle-scarred in the breeze and washed ashore where evil hides
The Sun regrettably retreats where malice mortals digressively dare
Walking barren saliferous streets where I live on a penniless prayer
The citadels of submission crucially crumble where they saintly stand
In their unholy cognition you are a slave to their carnivorous command
Embedded in stone my tangential tears will endure beyond the grave
Bludgeoned to the brutal bone by the unlawful carnal knowledge knave
Lost in oblivion my blood runs calamitously cold by the river's edge
Beware the Ophidian with sabotaging scales leaving you on the ledge
Deceivers of the realm punitive penetrators connivers as they clutch
They manipulate and overwhelm with their torturous tender touch.
Let's stop the abuse...and spread the real love
Aug.01.2017
Let's talk about it
Sponsored by: Richard Lamoureux
1 original, poem on the theme of abuse, emotional, sexual or physical.
Any form is acceptable.
Categories:
citadels, abuse, loneliness,
Form:
Rhyme
Refrain:
You shimmering waves on the ocean blue
Dance not again, he cannot dance with you
You weeping forests where the winds wail too
Let your bright tears fall in the pool of dew
The world of pop will never be the same again
The king is dead, and life is a dream so vain.
O day most callous like the callous world, how
Did you come about? By whose love designed,
Whose genius bore him, gave him life? O now
Do tell us of his human coming, since maligned
It's oft forgotten that he was somebody's child
Context in a world where his skin was reviled:
And yet some marveled that he parted from it
To build a world different from base to summit.
Genius is a gift and not a choice, and he was all
A moment's glimpse of earth's troubled paradise
For Michael was not mere mortal he was our tall
Selves transformed to art, so nuanced to the wise
That understood how his dance moves were silk
Syllables of protest and regret, a symbol cocooned
In loneliness, a man pining for the rare social milk
Of happiness against a material breast, festooned
With a race unhappiness. He was more than we
Saw with naked eye, Michael was an artist true
Context in all our history. And yet his mortality
Was not less not vulnerable due to fame, a blue
Note then sing for him, remember this day's despair
How the fickle fans in fragile praise came again
Away from the media's maddening glare to share
This moment of dark our universal deluge of pain.
O Indiana, this is your son, O America this here
Is your native child, weep here ye poets, weep
For him, the poet of the broken soul, Let no tear
Leave a eye that's dry for the lullaby of his sleep
Come ye world that felt his charity, beg angels
Hear us and welcome him; Michael, forever we
Will keep our hearts beating for you, in citadels
Of shining peace when your songs bring memory.
Categories:
citadels, death, music, nostalgiadance, world,
Form:
Elegy
(I.)
Of Ulysses, Homer's Troy And The Wrathful Gods
I, who am of the ancient tribe of trees
Climb slowly.
Eons unguessed, ere I shall see the crest
Of the blue towers, - love's high citadels
Hath reared, utterably beautiful
Unutterably holy, truth's infinite light.
I, who am of the ancient tribe of trees
Climb slowly.
Thy mystic news from out the Invisible
Would save all men, were they content to dwell
In the lowly station, proud to share the power
That forms the world in secret hour by hour.
I, who am of the ancient tribe of trees
Climb slowly.
I have not heard any man yet born
Unlocked in verse such cruel agony
Great gusts of song, raw as uptorn
Thou grim and gruesome master of the sea.
I, who am of the ancient tribe of trees
Climb slowly.
Set thee upon some mountain promontory
With no companion but that ancient story
In the mirror of Princes,
And thou shalt find thy throne restored to thee.
I, who am of the ancient tribe of trees
Climb slowly.
(II.)
Duality
Thy day is filled with echoes of olden time,
Shadows of pain. I watch the skylark climb
Into the sun above the golden grain.
One thou lovest for that he wrote his dream
In blood, then died. True joy is it doth gleam
Even among the sweet flowers of summer tide.
Yet thou and I are he that now doth write,
Of ancient seed deep-rooted, dark and light,
Sheltering good and evil at their need.
(III.)
A Little Poem
A little poem a dark soul brought forth
One hour of loneliness and misery;
Yet round it swung the keen stars of the north,
And deep within it moaned a troubled sea.
The joy'est trust of those eternal fires,
And all the calm those billows yearned unto,
Were in that poem, in that soul's desires,
And in the Heart that flashed that vision through.
R.J. Lindley, April, 3rd, 1973
(Within the shadows of a youthful mind's
mysterious desires and radiant glow)...
From my new blog....
Categories:
citadels, art, creation, deep, passion,
Form:
Rhyme
Consciousness Correction – 11-20-23
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Consciousness Correction
Envy sneaks in unseen
A thief robbing light from my house of gratitude,
Sowing simmering anger, extinguishing thankfulness,
In blind yellowed views
Gratitude held captive,
Strangled,
Pennies of “I wish” tossed into stone cisterns
Where winter thrashes cyclconic -
Vortex of a gleeful witness to spring’s demise -
Dead-ends swell in jealous broken branches,
Wrapped in near sighted stigmatisms,
Lenses smeared in covet.
Stone citadels rise from my naked spite,
Blind to confessions of incense,
To curl into deep pools
Poisoned by tainted pools of jealousy,
Creeping to the heights of entitled grudges.
Yet nascent vines, fragrant with focal points,
Blooms of correction,
Slip between crumbling buttress mortars,
Sachets illuminate good will
In wreaths of newborn appreciation
That knows its need for candles of kindness
My thankful eyes, that walked in darkness, see
To embrace armloads of miracles come into focus
Reappearing from soot blown corners.
Scales fall in melting flakes
From my bloodshot eyes,
New sight nourished in a corrected wash -
Sweet nectar of reckoning
By a brilliant polestar of clarity magnified
Opaque about-face.
Categories:
citadels, life, light,
Form:
Free verse
Sire she's been sighted
two miles south of Sinai,
our sentinels say she has brought a river,
her baggage train stretches into the ancient sands,
the envoys of her retinue spoke of marvelous gifts,
beasts and creatures of the Orient
gems that glitter like the eyes of children
summer baskets of gold bullion
and satchels of spice from Siam,
our men said they could smell the barrels of balsam Sire...
To travel with such unmistakable wealth
the Queen must have brought a war machine along,
have desert brigands been spotted near the route...
No my King, no raider encampments have been observed,
just the regular rabble and agape villagers,
it's been confirmed that her associates
are passing to the people pouches of cinnamon...
I don't trust the Egyptians,
they may try to incite the Bedouins to foolhardy thievery,
our Nation's honor demands
that not even the dust of the devil's danger
deign to dry upon the clothes of her most distant servants,
if the House of Zion can secure a partnership
with the trading powerhouse of Sheba
our supremacy over the Babylonians will be indomitable...
I pledge my life, and that of my family's
to her caravan's safety Sire...
So mote it be General,
your loyalty is my blessing,
may it be as strong as the staff of Moses,
dispatch 333 of the Lion's Legion
to reinforce the Queen's guard
and send a circuit of 15 water wagons...
What does a Queen dream of
in the calm desert nights...
I dream of roses melting
into snake bitten hearts,
I've dreamt of citadels broken
by the grips of greed,
I've seen a child walking out of a tomb,
what does a King dream of
in the shadow of paradise...
I dream of thorned stars,
the division of labor and wages,
of priests and Judges
whom wish to rule quietly without blame...
Do you know what thrilled me the most
about the Court reception...
Tell me, my cinnamon Queen...
The seduction of your Servants' silence
as I entered your meticulous throne room...
I understood their awe,
you moved so gracefully,
your body like an ancient lust
your face a flame of royalty...
I think I fell in love with your eyes,
there is something rough about you Solomon,
but your eyes and lips
relay a sweet mercy to me...
Mercy is never free Veronica...
I will pay the price...
We will pay the love cost together...
J.A.B.
Categories:
citadels, history, love,
Form:
Romanticism
Which is the greatest conduct of them all,
which one denies terpitude & futility most strenuously,
which exhalts productivity & nobility most vigorously,
is there a single method of action, behavior of best results
that is preeminent & priority above all others, a vangaurd conduct marshalling the rest,
I am the voice of Sympathy,
where there is woe, misery, lamentations abounding like leaves on trees
you'll find me, not as uplifting but reveling,
speaking as Efficiency I confidently state that none is more pivatol
to success or goal, on my balance constructs & destructs are indistinct,
Compassion, the cornerstone of virtue, I am enabler of empathy,
the isolated instructor from within,
the summons of sorrow & vision of victory,
as Education I say essentially,
expansion of intellect shrinks the world & ignites ingenuity
fascillitating personal progress like the breeze pollenates,
the attitude of Art, this is I, violent epiphany,
serene sensations & resolute reflections,
a communicator of a cosmic kind, imagination hammering,
I'm the bell holler,
the quaint choir of warm Exhaltation,
a muse of meditations & mandalas, I build temples from tissues
and citadels where fears nest,
calculator of consequences, a storm of precise pursuit,
I am that which commands, conquers & survives demolition,
Leadership, heart's precinct,
you cannot deny my supremacy,
I am that ravenous stimulation which can kill or invite life,
Copulation is the term, that impetus which fascinates,
Love is my name,
I engender shame, pride & sacrafice,
a mountain whose summit always rises,
I arouse life forces to ever increasing standards,
Warfare, desire's demon,
you all blame me for the wrongs & feverishly recruit me
when your charms fail,
I am fire upon the soft flower of rewards -
J.A.B.
Categories:
citadels, education,
Form:
Dramatic Monologue
Aardvark
First animal
Alphabetically
Destroyer of high citadels
Thirty five million years, one diet
Consuming whole populations
Poor eyesight, nocturnal
Termite eater
Aardvark
Categories:
citadels, animals, education
Form:
Rictameter
Tell all the worlds about the treasures found
Renaissance trace spellbound in the ancient form,
Tender and haunting; an era of time curves around
Past the present to a future beset with tech charm.
Historical pages cling romantically to our eyes,
Each epoch defines a sparkling gem of surprise,
Their fluttered rebirth is like stars changing sizes
Release by time flown from the damp demise.
That dip their limbs to bow unto gloss modernity
Like the artist and sculpture, they paint a world.
Of aesthetic peculiarities and lofty discovery,
Longing to find a place soaring free in the soul.
A vault of citadels says much; then said no more
Deep within, ancient wonders rise from the ashes
Talented beauty weaves from centuries we adore,
The time and place asleep in a waste wilderness.
The plague of colors survives in medieval triumph,
England, a literary monument of architect literature.
Finds the noble heart to express cherished breath
Creating the etiquette claimed by French culture.
Such dept alone could not be paid by metamorphism
Humanism fading in a mist has its place in society,
Heightened with extreme lust and erotic mannerism,
Italy removes the conscious veil from bizarre reality.
Ceiling significant through music strings serenade,
Renaissance dazed; allusion lay dreaming half awake
The inquisition of fate went on pilgrimage made,
German sentence commute through the classical gate.
The Netherlands explore and navigate all the distances
Byzantine adherence goes beyond impregnable walls,
depict faces of the Tsars persist in the military hypothesis,
And labyrinths take refuge in Russian banqueting halls.
The richest measured proportion of distilled beverage,
Vodka values more than all the dull limited senses,
Spanish religion repository of the myths and rage
Set the path where new western experience commences.
Portugal selfie, the pinnacle piece that thirsts for commerce
Lisbon flourished paints and medicines with Flemish.
Poland concept and conflict gain border land dominance,
Spice trade rises high and makes indiscreet allusion flourish.
We travel far beyond renaissance to the greatest monument,
When the transition of culture from the middle age evolved
Mesmerized art is a rediscovery of an enduring cultural movement,
The monarch of the Roman Empire renaissance man inspired.
Categories:
citadels, art, birth, culture, england,
Form:
Elegy
Castles
Medieval towns, the citadels,
as fortified large ornates fascinate,
Engulfed my flaming true passion
that still echoes inside huge walls,
Sound of glittering brave swords
that took to a cowardly deceit,
Condemned moonlight
as we met used to greet,
Midnight shadows over walls of castles
now are lost in ghostly fleet,
Like a horrid dream
that makes my heart bleed,
Castles are a history
as lingers my life in plead,
Silky pearl white gown stained in red,
Clouds of long hair left to shred,
Emotionless eyes that only stare,
Cruel men in hues of red painted scare,
In name of honor for the race,
My true love was called a disgrace,
Corpses these dominating walls could capture
as souls serene floated in enrapture,
In era of humanity I wish to be born again,
when race, color and religion castles will slain !
***************
That place, these secrets
Harbors more than a majestic face,
Captive, breathtaking enchanted beams
Silver light waits down each hallway
The eyes of men -prey- preyed on castle walls
Vengeance broke the silence,
as true love was met by fate,
-under a bleeding lune.
Loud wails come from despair
Dragon statues look up to the flames
Passion perfectly preserved
Blood feuds between villages
Tunics distinguished by color
Selfish toxins in the bloodstream
Confession of the sins
Green eyes full of dreams
Lanterns lead each path
Every page is torn until no more
Beauty ignored by the dark
Gems of honor, heal each plea
A love story paved with a wrench
light twinkles wisps through the rocks
Beyond enchanted blocks,
Coat of Arms rises to guard these ground
Love conquers all when united
~Poet Destroyer~
Written Sept 2nd and Sept 6th finally, 2015
For contest "Partner up" by Shadow
© Dr. Upma A. Sharma and The Poet Destroyer
Awarded 3rd place win
Categories:
citadels, lost love, passion,
Form:
Free verse
Deflected, crushed by the social retardation,
Not loved, ‘cos he’s altogether unaccepting,
Active learning the robot’s mouth action,
So he can't contextualise, there’s no blessing.
Neither me nor him meet and we sweep by,
There’s no connection from his ANDs and ORs,
Only citadels to weather the reactive cry,
When my nouns are pocketed by many cursors.
Where’s the memory bank and why the chat?
The bus is long gone and I'm open, vulnerable,
There’s no room for social construction’s mat,
To yield identity’s dynamic, recursive turntable.
Yes, microchips and logic gates shouldn't enable,
Machine learning at the cost of root foundations;
Your group, community, your niche and fable,
Ignite the necessary conversation of care situations.
Ok, so can we build a robot? A care robot?
Indeed care assistance is definitely reducible,
To only a small number of abstractions, clot,
‘Cos love does not evade the comprehensible.
Doors class as access, also pavements, steps,
Only three types of garments, two of people,
Friend or foe, but a cloud for certain parapets,
And who’s boss is said before, it's programmable.
Categories:
citadels, caregiving, computer, future, identity,
Form:
Quatrain
I foolishly fell from a mountainous high only to land on a desert dry
Images of liquid lust within my emotive eye calcified to a crusted cry
Warning winds in delusory distance holding hurricanes of resistance
Conjuring catacombs of assistance within isolation of nonexistence
The pensive pain penetrates as the perfidious palette perpetrates
Limbic resonance that hibernates awaking the storm that obliterates
Manipulation of the mangled mind Benedictine battery of the blind
Twisted temperance that is twined the cervical citadels are confined
Dormant delusions that may weep defiant deluge of twilight sleep
Restless roars that reap screaming shadows of the saporous sheep
Bactericidal beacons that bloom wandering the wounded womb
The slings and arrows of doom ebulliently entrapping to entomb.
March.24.2019
Pick A Title, Vol.3 Alliteration
Sponsored by: Edward Ibeh
Placed 1'st...Thank You
Categories:
citadels, abuse, conflict, pain,
Form:
Alliteration
Whatever happens when days counted as weeks?
And years counted as astrological countdowns
What ever happened to disco rap battling drums?
On streets filled graffiti and sand castles
Whatever happens to shoes with no laces?
And bras with no straps
Backpack ladybugs with taps
Bell bottoms Montreal
Sweden Russia Columbia streets
Backward aimed down guns strictly meant for
Cisco band operative thieves
Whatever happens to justice stringing down a cubical wall?
Hanged down gavels London has fall
Lint brushed suits and gated Citadels
Bells ring time church broken pulpits spill
What ever happened to make up brushing Mack trucks?
Highway in France
Long stroking discipline Chinese to Japan
Whatever happened to words screaming off a page?
Sandy still beat breathing cells covered backward again
What happened to life metaphoric acronym?
Made fun of stage left to mend
Jokes to tell anchors to sail
What happened to the decrease in operating jail to sale?
What happened man made fictional crap
Backsliding genocide and presidents’ mysteriously vanish
What happened is told with a story that has no end?
Stopped up water turned brown cased in a sprite river bend
What happened what happened if the time was not set?
It will be broken and told to lie up a case with no Chef
No knife no swords
The word would not be told
What happen to happen?
Happen has caught a cold!
Categories:
citadels, adventure, analogy, freedom, poetry,
Form:
Concrete