Best Conviviality Poems
On a fine April day, set out in the great cruise ship, Titanic,
Into the pelagic waters of Atlantic, with the weather alluringly sweet.
Plush it was with beaming fellow travelers and amenities astounding.
A journey of great excitement under a star-studded sky at night.
With the crew so hospitable, there was overwhelming warmth and conviviality.
Wine and liquor flowed down through gullets; tasty cuisines were served.
On the deck couples and lovers waltzed, a sweet breeze kissing their cheeks.
But tragedy loomed large in the form of an iceberg, unobserved.
I sat away from the crowd enjoying the rising gaiety.
What was the deafening sound I heard from near?
With a violent shake, the huge leviathan turned to one side.
Hardly knew what was happening, but sensed death was not far.
Hit hard n' ripped into two pieces, the vessel began sinking into the waters.
Amid euphonic melody and revelry, some didn’t know what was happening.
Some in panic ran helter skelter with growls and groans renting the air.
A man gave away his lifeboat to a mother and child, his own life abandoning.
It was a moment I witnessed the beauty of selfless love.
I was inspired to give away my lifeboat that I secured by chance.
A divine spark hit me, and all anxieties vanished instantly.
Sudden was the transmutation, I saw the whole scene in a new stance.
Heaven’s fire was lit in my breast and in love, my spirit began to glow,
How great it is to give life to someone who needed it more.
I heard the angel’s voices flit, saw a new door opening wide.
Had a fleeting vision of the heavenly hall with aureate roof and glazed floor.
I knew all my agony depart and hope instantly sparking.
With God on my side, I felt sinking into the icy depth,
My mind was calm with an unusual courage filling my every nerve,
And my horizon growing bigger and enlarging into uncommon width.
My inaudible parting words were “Goodbye Titanic, fare thee well,
In the oceanic depths, you stay as a symbol of world’s fleeting glory,
Making men think that fate can shatter and pulverize human hubris.
In the sunless Atlantic lair, lie down ageless to tell your allegorical story"!
A dapper morning awaits
as I gaze out
to an awakening
steeped in conviviality
so palpable in glow of
leaves bathed anew
radiant in glory
Glistening crisp
blades of grass
razor edged sharp
deftly cut through
weeds of gloom
Aromas soaked in mirth
envelope landscape
From my soul
infused with joy
escapes a sigh
embraced avidly
by bountiful breeze
the lines between us blur slowly
as it subsumes me
And I cease to be
my spirit merged
with universe...
Date July 10 2017
July Premier contest any form any theme sponsored by Brian Strand
Adoration grows tenfold, sublime serenity convenes
Above the starry skies I see legends meet
Cloaked in a whisper of a mist delighting the mind’s eye
Gently gliding towards my sight I draw a deep sigh
Contemplation of wispy memories long said
Succumbing to whimsical, perhaps unheeded shred
Great beauty insistent in its plight
Grips my very haphazard sight
Alas I cry but I look anew
Surrendering to wondrous view
Conjoining eves amid midsummer’s bathed conviviality
Intensely gorgeous plateaus encounter mystical assembly
Magnificent sceneries encompass still untouched milieu
Astonishment weathered by saturating the view
Stilled backdrops sprouting splendour inspired
Awed by intimate fervour the mind remains wired
When days have dawned and dusk has drawn
Pray hear me do not grow untimely forlorn
For the day may draw to a close but know
Another so splendid will surely grow
All Clouds Lead to You
Imagine us, high above the earth,
Laughing on a silver-lined cloud,
Filled with sensuality and mirth.
You, feed me luscious grapes,
With such love and joviality.
Beyond normal,any conviviality.
Gentle droplets of rain, on us fall.
Brilliantly, prism-colored.
They invite me to your lips'soft call.
Where there is joy unsurpassed.
And not the least bit of sass!
Glad to leave the earth behind,
You, the only one, I will love.
For the rest of nectared time.
9/8/2020
How Times Have Changed~
We ran so innocently in lush, soft, beautiful grass!
Dreamt of wonderful futures on the finest, fresh smelling sheets.
Mother treated each child as her very own angel creation.
When apart, we pigtailed beauties, actually called each other on real phones!
Sadly, the deliciuis times of being together, are no longer here,
And no, sorry! Facebook and a child stuck in front of any screen.
Can never bring back the joy, the togetherness, the very vibrancy
Of loving and close human conviviality.
Love has transformed, so that, it's like looking for it in a rear view mirror.
We lost our love for one another, in tragic totality!
A God, a church for some, just is far too demanding,
Besides, we might have to leave our house, or worse be standing.
We killed God and became ravenous, selfish beasts.
We cannot connect humanly anymore, as once we fearlessly did.
That feigned pretense of "caring" is absolutely the worst.
It is nothing more than electronic symbols on a device!
Our once sparkling, spiritual souls, that belonged to God.
Totally stone cold,like the dead, under the sod..
666 and his minions launching their final work.
Theit goal? To see that God is never once mentioned.
We really think we are bigger than God? Yes, we consider Him a clod!
We never attribute any success we have to Him
Drunk on our own wonderfulness, indeed hollowness,
In a world that we never created.
Detachment, no-speaking is the word of the day,
We never consider or think that another human,
Might need a hug, a visit, from another soul.
In fact, we rob them of hearing our voices at all.
So busy are we, destined on a train to hell.
Deaf,are we, totally to our own death's knell.
On fine new couches we sit, huge TV's captivate us,
Our stomachs, full and bulbous, but it doesn't bother us.
So off to get manicures, haircuts and more.
We are horribly prideful and vain, strutting like arrogant roosters.
We can't stop playing vainglorious games.
Never for God, oh, no~just for our personal,insignificant fame!
Panagiota Romios
4/10/2018
The gray exhaust of twelve warm hearths
Chased the clouds into the afternoon sky.
There stood the stalwart mansion
At peace with its surroundings
And steadfast with its environs.
Beckoning an affectionate greeting
Just beyond the bridge, it appears
To give light the sublime levity
Of being a nuance of darkness.
Its façade is as prestigious and lucent
As a librarian’s bustline in her noblest estate.
Its walls of luminous windows
Sit still in a kinetic majesty of colors,
Like the yew tree in its bounty of crimson berries.
This refuge from the current disharmonies
Radiates from its midst an unheard music
And a conviviality suggesting a vicarious ecstacy.
Here, perhaps, is that first step in darkness
Of the empire prophesized to come,
Bringing its measureless song
Of the queen of the northern lights,
Whose monarch calms the most vociferous tempest
And warms the most bitter winter chill.
Here, under the clouds of mortal brevity,
Contained are the exotic reactions
To long suppers and golden evenings
From the replenishing of early traditions,
Beyond youth’s humblest dreams.
The twelve hearths fully aglow,
Fueled with only kindling atoms,
Tell of a future only they can know
And every human mind fathoms.
Within these high stone walls,
Lit by radiant lamps’ glare,
Every place an eye-beam falls,
There is the glory of confident flair.
A deep, dark kindred spider looms to proffer the sentiment,
That abuse just objectifies the long persistent winter:
Scouring around playfully, but embedded in the night -
Two way of seeing it but only one plight.
That black body, its piercing eyes drive acutely,
In the lengthy web that’s receptive but selfish with quirk,
With thin, spindly legs which effect to mobilise,
The creature only some befriend to glamourise.
We hold to the summer, autumn and spring as the norm,
Not winter’s harrowing chill which makes us so often ill;
The act of telling someone you've been raped, abused,
Should not be a sick kick or a jester’s a thrill.
If you don't give us our minds, stance and chirps,
You'll just be cushioning that admiring psychologist,
Who asks us about physical abuse, sexual, and rape,
But who we hate to have as we’ve no trait.
Give us our spirits, intellect and powers:
Don't glare, glance and glower at our ordinary activities;
Equality only exists when you feel it and can tower,
In the informal social networks of civil conviviality.
And of course, nasty small talk itself causes rape,
Violence and abuse which derides and can shape,
The heart that reaches out to befriend and welcome,
The fence-sitter, the open mind who quietly relates.
But if you say physical abuse just objectifies other lesser evils,
Like criticising needlessly, cutting us off, and gloating,
Then your sick in the head and unforgivable,
Because all discrimination is unnecessary and avoidable.
BEAUTY BLOSSOMS AT A BLESSING’S BEHEST
She was new to me on New Year’s Eve
Even when I felt my senses take their quickened and quiet leave
She had on high heeled purple patent leather shoes
And a patent pending on perfection
Until romance was reborn as rejection
Saliently I was sequestered to a semi- exclusive island
Where slaves to sensuousness succumb to seduction
With the introduction of infinitely instant infatuation for a fool
And desire that could only be quelled by the quietude that resides in her sigh
But for the lasciviousness that lay in her every lie
We begged the New Year begin with Louisiana, lakes, limericks and love
and, per chance, poetry provided by proverbial peacefulness
with cheery cherry blossoms budding beguilingly for only both of us
like the tree we sat under when wonder stole my eye
and I first heard you lie
sadly,
falsehoods failed to forecast a future of fogginess
and a mistiness that hid amid a mystery
for you were an enigma…….
a duality
with a persuasion to plurality
and conceived of by conviviality
you were a mercurial imp of imperfections personified
But what’s worse is that you so casually, callously and caustically lied
Oh yes, and the following New Year’s Eve
I heard our apple blossom tree finally died
© 2012 copyright PHREEPOETREE…..~free cee!~
That first non-rhythmical matter,
Floated on the new dust of light,
To whet the eleventh spark clatter,
Such that its dividend split tight;
A web, a sea of ringed atmosphere,
Then a cob of meteoric compression,
Hurling towards a black collapse here,
To dent the shock supernovas intervention;
With planets duetting their sweeps in silence,
The night is not black and suffers a blow,
Identified deductively but with great nuance,
The waves glinting the bounce and the flow.
God became a man, human to the core,
Not an apple, lamp, priest or Ferrari,
Even though Genesis incepts with lore,
Given god as a construct, apple’s Atari;
Christianity grabs god indeed as a man,
Possibly to concede that a human coasts,
Crucially opening herbs and aromatics fan,
To the differential and to the weaker posts.
Life without a momentum blackadders,
Would not summate to conviviality,
Rejuvenation oscillations sprite the adders,
Ionotrophic energy comes up from banality.
Rhoda Monihan
Bursts of laughter and splashes of colour
Sounds of hilarity and tales of adventure
Sparkles of light and folklore dancing
Merriment dominates the order of things
Hark to the woeful, hear not sad cries
For tonight is the night the faeries unite
Capricious beings in evolving couture
Smiling and playing, the laughter just hear!
Assimilation of races, all kinds of faces,
Confined in just these small little spaces
Look here. look there and harmony you will find
Conviviality combined with reminiscinces abind
T'was not fear and loathing that caught my eye
But laughter and sunshine on that starry night
Her fares
Feed my fainting frame.
Her genial gesture
Graces my gut.
Her beauty
Bands my body.
Her care
Clads my clay.
Her spirituality
Spurs my spirit.
Her tender talk
Tickles my thought.
Her conviviality
Is my compliment.
THE AL-ANDALUS QUARTET: PART TWO
CÓRDOBA / QURTUBAH 950 AD / 339 AH
From Madinat al-Zahra
and the City of Córdoba, the roads
to the Renaissance are renamed and
traveled, patrolled and protected, routed
and projected by the Umayyad Caliph
and the frail conviviality of constituent
cultures, which like the white light of
day and the lace veil of night, are somehow
connected in the shadows of evening and
the gray skies of dawn but in fundamental
opposition define one another
An astute Sephardic rabbi
said the culture of Islam in Al-Andalus
is like a cataclysmic flood that abuses
the land, rearranges its features, nourishes
its soil, eventually disappears through
evaporation and runoff, leaving folksong
and legend to chronicle its passing
The transmission and enhancement of
Classical knowledge, philosophical
erudition, the patient diplomacy within
the righteous framework of an arrogant
tolerance are like a brilliant sunrise in the
medieval world but even the sanguine
observer hears the clashing of swords in
the far mountain passes and the whispers
of betrayal at clandestine meetings and
knows that, bright as it is at this high tide
of impact, the culture is fading, not like
day into night but like the moment of
noon into the moment thereafter, that
sunlight and flood, both powerful and
magic, are receding in concert, slowly,
inexorably, through the Taifa mosaic,
the slow-motion shattering of a
stained-glass window shining colors and
light in a thousand directions, then fading
through evening toward midnight and
darkness, illuminated by stars that,
in spite of their beauty, will later be
remembered as light years away
Emanuel Carter
La Dolce Vita Part One
How sweet life is, indeed!
The air we breathe, our nightly rest.
Think back about your very first
steps.
You played games outdoors with
your nose not stuck to a screen.
You romped in the woods ever so
merrily.
Days of conviviality with no fear.
Just endless days and nights
with parents and friends, we held
so very dear.
Life was just beginning for us.
Most of us went to Church and
learned who created the Universe.
We learned the Ten Commandments
that applied to men and women...
one and all.
Our countries stood tall and
proud. We loved our countries
proud of its flag and song.
Leaders were respected not
humiliated or the butt of jokes.
Times horribly transformed..
When God was shown the door
and our country and leaders
we abhor.
The New Bible is the deceitful and
devilish fourth estate,
That has made us hate each other
without reason or debate.
The time has come my friends
To get a grip, return to reality.
Love all and create a new world,
That is ours and for those yet to be.
June 10, 2019
4:30pm PST
Avoirdupois
The endomorph enjoys our affection
as the comic figure of tradition.
Friar Tuck, Falstaff, and Old Toby
recall rotund revels and ribaldry.
Devils are always portrayed as thin.
the clown invariably has a double chin.
Unlike the hero, who's always victorious,
his wind and walk are somewhat laborious.
Though he's never very heroic,
who honestly ever loved a stoic?
Confronted by his conviviality
cynics think rather jealously:
'It's just that unlike the lean
he's much too slow to be mean.'
DON’T THE COUNTLESS COUNT?
What if “what if” didn’t matter at all?
What if the word “if” didn’t exist?
Would madness and sadness continued to call?
And would disdain, pain and petulance persist?
There are countless millions of people waiting to see if……….
If…. the world implicates impotence in the imposition of an implosion
And an explosion of exponential proportions
If….. children will still suffer starvation with a lack of elation
While adults liberate libation from the arms of repudiation and renunciation
Without the justification of abjuration
If…… politicians will persistently pontificate to people with platitudes and perforate their dreams with dreariness and dread
If…..The Bible continues to be a book believers were born for
And sinners in sanctimonious seclusion harbor only scorn for
If…gun metal will be melted down to make buckles for children’s shoes and no longer create ornaments of atrocious armaments
With supplemental supplication and subjugation is no longer sorrow’s creation
If……love’s loquaciousness leads to a land where lamentable liars are held liable for their lies
And become predisposed and prone to sincerity and integrity that is integral to intelligent and incisive ideology
If…..the universe will rise above a curse with the consistency of cantankerous and consternating cruelty
If…...the collective mind of mankind will conceive of conviviality and make merciless malice a triviality
If…..we will ever answer all these “ifs”
What if no one need ask if this or that will be?
What if calm champions and honest campaigns trumps over combat and war?
What if calmness finally comes to you and me,
and those countless millions who find battling a beleaguering bore?
© 2008…..free cee!