Best Densely Poems
Where hazel bushes mix with sturdy oaks
and beech trees densely grow in shades of green
the fairy flowers come in early spring
attired in clothes of violet-blue sheen.
The swathes of bluebells, like a sheet unrolled
before our eyes, breathtaking to behold!
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
This stanza is a Sexain or Sestet.
Contest: One Stanza
Sponsor: Broken Wings
Placed 4th
© 14th July 2016
Dappled sunlight on emerald leaves,
Rhododendron trusses painted in rainbows.
Daffodil ablaze in golden glory,
Roses dipped in dark burgundy.
Garden of beauty a temptation to all,
Vivid colours crying out to be adored.
Gently descending floating on the breeze,
Vibrant shades of azure adorn her wings.
Delight to the world a thing of beauty,
Resting motionless amidst a rainbow.
Densely clustered petals her throne,
Resplendent in the mottled light.
Percussion plays once in a while beyond its curtain
In duo with the flash of paparazzi’s capturing film
Prelude to an exhilaration of blissful days’ chain
Where rain and sunshine smack on a rainbow beam
In duo with the flash of paparazzi’s capturing film
Buoying up the breeze as it dances and toasts its grace
When rain and sunshine smack on a rainbow beam
Blissful days of October, in wide open arms…embrace
Buoying up the breeze as it dances, toasts its grace
Petal-litters bounce and float on air in tranquil glade
Blissful days of October, in wide open arms…embrace
As green grasses bud out from densely colored bed
Petal-litters bounce and float on air in tranquil glade
Prelude to an exhilaration of blissful days’ chain
As green grass buds out from densely colored bed
Percussion plays once in a while beyond its curtain
October 6, 2016 11.50pm
©2016Leonora Galinta
All Rights Reserved
I wrote this poem to greet you all lovingly a Very Happy and Blessed October!
Also, a very Happy Birthday to the October Celebrants especially to our dearest poetess and friend (my dearest poetic Sis-BFF), Miss PD /LINDA, whose birthday is TODAY October 7 together with our dearest friend/ poetess, Miss Debbie Duncan (Oct. 7), also Mr. Frank and Mr. Kash, they’re Oct. 7 also I think, and for other Libran-Scorpions Celebrants: Sis-libramate Sandy Ivy (Oct 5 like me, i miss u), my other poetic friends Mandy T, Suz D, Sandra A, Dr. Ram, Carol E, Sandra A, Caycay and others. Happy, Happy Birthday! Wishing you the BEST in life especially Good Health, Happiness and Success. Biggest and warmest birthday hugs from me!
May God bless you all!
This humble composition was also inspired by the form (not for the contest ) and the highlights of the month below:
Autumn Season (although there are unexpected rainfalls/thunderstorms here in T) ,Holy Rosary Month, Vegetarian Festival (in my place) , Halloween and LIBRANS-SORPIONS BIRTHDAY MONTH.
When tongue is silent, but muse is chanting - that's poetry.
When we write what the heart has been asking - that's poetry.
As dawn's hues glisten golden rays, in blue, bronze, orange skies,
musings mirror daydreams, so enchanting - that's poetry.
Butterflies smooch cosmos, as bees sip on dahlias nectar.
Scents of deep red roses start enhancing - that's poetry.
Clement air pleasantly overwhelms with pleasures of love,
muse becomes a bard lost in romancing - that's poetry.
Mentality turns dark when clouds spread densely like ash smoke.
Scarlet ink screams tears to stop storms advancing - that's poetry.
In shades of loneliness, thoughts reach out to our loyal moon,
beneath her moonlight we sojourn, standing - that's poetry.
A heart is healed by spoken words composed with compassion.
Poets smile when they see sad lips laughing - that's poetry.
As sands of sorrow pause, soul glows like a million fireflies.
Nature's metaphors leave our pens dancing - that's poetry.
Stale ink dehydrates and thoughts become segments of cement,
mind is a machine, where words keep jamming - that's poetry.
Daylight or night, bed, bath or driving, lyricists inspired
by sunshine, snow or when rain is lashing - that's poetry.
Word weavers scribbling sonnets, free verse and poetic prose,
forming imagery instead of ranting - that's poetry
Silent One, writes to honour Rumi, Shakespeare and Wordsworth,
In hope my words will be everlasting - that's poetry.
The Silent One
29 August 2020
An example for the Ghazal contest.
This Ghazal has a two worded refrain. Slightly different in format to previous ghazal, I posted, called 'Only the moon understands.'
This one has 14 syllables each line.
There are different definitions for a Ghazal, and different interpretations of the from.
Ghazal poetry is poetry of longing. Traditionally, the ghazal tended to focus on unattainable love, often illicit, or sometimes on metaphysical questions. But, today, the ghazal has broadened to touch many types of longing and loss.
The ghazal is a form poem that uses the art of rhyme and repetition. As it is originally a Persian form and the Indian subcontinent, the refrain and rhyme can be lost when translated to English, as is the meter.
Upon this yearly powdered dale,
where leafless birch in talon-ed stance
come begging in their circumstance,
the snowflakes fell in silent veil
as thick as densely woven cloth
to gale a new year's behemoth.
While seeking warmth to no avail
I hunker in my hiemal sleigh
when through the rime in gleeful spray
a fulgid sun does spritely hail,
goes dancing between limb and twig
and waltzing 'round each wizened sprig
to glisten on my rutted swale.
Each pixel glitters on this path
in afterglow of winter's wrath.
Upon this yearly powdered dale
the snowflakes fell in silent veil.
While seeking warmth to no avail
a fulgid sun does spritely hail
to glisten on my frozen swale.
Red Cloud....
These reminiscing waters have grown somewhat stagnant now; mirthless repose
It seems as the shimmering simile river begins its, millennials requiem
Canines still echoing somewhere beyond the sunlit sparkling of her eyes ~
While as their hunters now gather amid the densely diluted cannabis woods
In search of this lone gray wolf; Calaxial, their long sought after prize....
Sine qua nons aurora borealis' zenith from afar, his guide; apsis
Her fragrant scent beyond the wildflower clusters afore this linden twilights
Reflections of resplendencies graceful contours within, her beauties silkened coat ~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
{Amid Renaissonic Refurb}
In English we say, I am hurting,
but in poetry we say ~
I am windswept wave
weeping weathered roses
upon the haunting heart of drowsy dunes,
kissed by the mineralized melancholy
of wounded wadis,
for love forgot the fated flow,
nevermore feeling the forlorn skin
of b l e e d i n g ink…
I seize the scorpion crushed weight
of crestfallen crystals,
once voiced
through painless passion.
Devouring the distress
cutting through lips splitting,
I taste nothingness
amidst raining ruby-winged butterflies,
mirroring the bruise
burning in sync with extreme dolor…
O beloved, would you still recognize
the rippling riddles of soul’s river,
or has distance
dried the wild-lilies
dressed in dramatic scents
of dangerous devotion,
like the syllables I spilled
between the spaces that
held the poetry we once breathed?
Would you still hear the
undreamed chimeras ~
chapters channelled
now choking the reveries
I home in morbid muteness,
or has the nerving nadir
jinxed the sparks of Jupiter ablaze,
numbing ringed-jewels of strength
we once believed faithfully
would
never phase
nor decay…
I wonder if your skies serenade
soft blue soliloquies ~
sunrise soaked in honeysuckle hymns.
Do they drizzle
densely designed darkness
draped in dissonance,
or do you find comfort
in painting me with solemn ashes
as the black-fanged Empusa ~
one that inflicted
nothing but misery,
injected like liquid lethal lament
that suffocated
the arteries of midnight?
2:22 ~ angel omen ~
do with this what you will,
I overwrite to outrun the emotions,
refusing to be overtaken
by disillusionment.
I speak not to lure the stars across
your cerulean seclusion,
but to heal as I seal the envelope
of unanswered thoughts,
wishing the pulse of p a t i e n c e
would no longer
push and pull the string
of my weakness
like ice-hot estuaries
rushing against the ache of want...
O detached desires,
forgive my need to release.
I am not restless,
I am not reactionary,
I am merely reminiscing in resilience,
to rise again
as the seamstress
of scarless sonnets….
“A heartbeat pulsating as living light
free from each and every limitation
I AM that dwelling in inbound delight
the source wherefrom arises creation”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
We are that we are that we might align as God’s designed, divine
boned souls; therefore, I am that I am that I might become all that
Spirit deems my possibilities to don and grow from.
As golden light inside earthly flesh status and matters, I densely
stumble through life’s living maze to either be conquered and
triumphant, or conquered and redundant. Only when confined
do most seek to break out and realize the divine tools we all
possess in the recesses of the ‘I am’ we are.
I am my soul’s potential of light, love and joy thus existential
credentials are essential for realizations of my nature. Intuitive
insight pulses layers of intoxicating rushes that inform and
discern the terms of who I am now and endowed to further be.
Darkness of night,
introduce me to what lurks
underneath your enchanting moonbeams.
I know that I should stay away,
yet, I am drawn to these silent things
that could easily end me.
I am not afraid of the supernatural.
I am spellbound, enraptured, mystified
by these psychotic creature's requiem dance,
that captures my soul
as it's own possession.
Darkness of night,
take me into your underworld,
where the arms of roaming specters
can totally envelope me,
like a densely tangled spider-web,
with no intention to ever let go.
Allow them to take me away,
to a deep place where, peacefully,
my dying soul can finally rest.
Darkness of night,
tell the devil only this....
he can have all of me,
to punish in any befitting manner.
I have already been through torture,
known pain, lived with loneliness,
and seen hell on earth.
The devil may care to try,
but he cannot hurt me any more.
Darkness of night,
say goodbye for me.
Shout high up to the heavens
and tell the sun it needs to shine
no longer on me.
Dark Poetry Contest
I live in a faraway densely forested habitable moon,
orbiting in the central Alpha Centauri star system.
I am a blue-skinned sapient humanoid,
and a pride of Omaticaya clan in paradise of Pandora.
I own the beauty of precious gem, a diamonds that glow.
Glistens like a crystal water softly flowing in a stream.
I love to ride in a back of Toruk, my flying dragon friend,
While embracing the love of the man, my avatar king.
The nature is where my heart beats...
I love the scent of flowers bloom in the field.
And enthralled my emotion with the song of birds.
Then make love with the avatar in the midst of forest.
In the land of Pandora, I cherish the love that I've found.
The gift of goddess Eywa, our life has sustained.
Value every single tears that these eyes held,
Then give all my strength to defend the beauty of our place.
This is where I found the man who changed my world.
I treasure every moment that our eyes met.
With his hands I feel secured,his touch made me stronger .
His lips I surrendered all the love I can share.
Nature and love , an eternal power from within.
This world has a lot of precious things to offer.
Come to me, let us dance in the psalm of breeze.
And cherish this divine freedom from within.
Inspired by fictitious character of "Neytiri"
from the movie "AVATAR"
Aiyah_025
Epic
Temptation pulls us all into sin with gravity force
Wading in with human desires sweet sugar coating gloss
Strengths are nurtured and grown from our creator's breath of light
Filtering through densely chaotic thoughts stony cold walls
Snowdrops open their blossoms stretching a smile to your spring
Sprouting faith, hope, love and luck from a four-leaf white clover
Daffodils dance with a twirl around a twilight star breeze
Floating around magical melodies of twin flames spark
Shimmering dusk and dawn of your soul commanding presence
Soaring light chestnut brown kestrel swooping down in hunger
Low down in the horizon gracious mother of the rose
Sweet pleasant fragrance sets sail on the bitter winds of change
Queen of the evening sky you stand out a beautiful face
Radiating happiness amidst the flurries of rain
A co written piece by Liam Mc Daid and Angeline Lin
My Kentucky in Fall
Peaceful country roads winding through meadows and hills,
and golden rays kiss purple asters, tall ironweed and abundant goldenrod.
Gorgeous colors are greeting me despite the warning that drought
would hold them back this year.
Glowing yellows, warm reds and burning orange leaves are clinging
to the heavy branches, limbs swaying in the autumn breeze.
Fallen leaves dance to the music of the currents,
poison ivy vines wrap the stately maple in crimson.
Damp snapping turtles sun themselves on a rock in the creek,
while further up a blue heron is standing silently, watching the
slow flowing water, until he is ready to strike.
Our majestic Ohio river reflects the cloudless, azure sky
while bordered by densely covered cliffs that are
decked in their autumn finest.
Profusely blooming red cardinal vines cling to the rocky ledges
are kissed by happily buzzing bees and bouncing butterflies.
Pumpkins, ghosts and witches decorate porches and front doors,
gray barns are brimming with hay, tobacco and corn,
contently harboring their bounty.
Acorns, black walnuts and hickory nuts are plentiful, yet squirrels
do not seem in a hurry to bring in their winter supply.
Smiling, waving hikers are climbing the autumn scented hills
to Tioga Falls, and Virginia Creeper vines show pleasing colors
along the old Rail Road Bridge.
On the side of the road the lush cedars have developed
their silver-blue berries,
and wild rose bushes are displaying their red rose hips.
Autumn has come to my Kentucky.
September morn flutters its bright wings
Radiant colors of love and joy it all brings
Never just a dream
Drizzles fuse with summer air in delight
Rainbow looms are strewn in vast site
They perfectly prim
September smiles brandish vibrantly on air
Virgon-Libran Stars pace dazzlingly in flair
Trees arc overhead
Gilded crackers carpet densely around
Others in streaky flames stud…abound
Let’s frolic and tread
September aroma wafts, whirls… swirls
Bracing breeze bounces, dances, twirls
A lavish confetti-bearer
Overture of year’s most awaiting parts
Enchanting hues rain from the start
Ber Months’ fun greeter
Sept. 23, 2016 (Fri) 9.59pm
©2016Leonora Galinta
I wrote this poem to greet you all lovingly a Very Happy and Blessed September!
Also, a very Happy Birthday to the September Celebrants especially to our very dear poet and friend, Andrea D. Her very special day was last Sept 5. Once again, Happy, Happy Birthday! This poem is for You and for all my/our dear Septemberian poetic friends. Wishing you the BEST in life especially Good Health, Happiness and Success. Biggest and sweetest hugs from me.
I Love and miss you all!
1. Facing life courageously with eyes downcast
happiness and peace not part of the forecast
amidst proud siblings, the only one timid
uncertainty in the air, densely humid
fine drink for all but taking a thimbleful
for true protection, the gods get my handful
glued to excuses and flaws of temperaments
leaving the ungodly to make side comments.
Chorus
I run to the highest hills
I hide in the deepest caves
I put my trust on strong men
I breath the words of great kings
When I stumble and fall down
Jesus alone gives His hand
[Repeat]
2. Powers of men become diversionary
many unreal strengths, claiming to tonify
following masked demons to drop in centers
to acquire, to hold but nowhere rustic
drinks all to suffer spiritual dysentery
from a castle, jumping to a rotunda
to the things of God, becoming a rascal
a walking tapir in the midst of Tigers.
Chorus
I run to the highest hills
I hide in the deepest caves
I put my trust on strong men
I breath the words of great kinds
When I stumble and fall down
Jesus alone gives His hand
[Repeat]
3. He has suffered it all in his first coming
can come of age his glorious second coming
it is never too late by his reckoning
now is the time to have a rite of passage
men can brag and make you have a reverie
other gods can fight to seem in rivalry
but run to him for the clear and blameless dress
for when its time, his glow no one can repress.
Chorus
I run to the highest hills
I hide in the deepest caves
I put my trust on strong men
I breath the words of great kinds
When I stumble and fall down
Jesus alone gives His hand
[Repeat]
I have come to accept the possibility
that I, myself, may be partially to blame (my compost pile of shame)
that I may have stroked the very wheel (unable to feel)
that, set in motion, is the cause of
so much pain (unsheltered in the rain)
Silently suffering through endless winters (embers, cinders)
without anticipation of Spring (hope an ethereal thing)
blind to Mother Earth's gifts (tenuous unfelt shifts)
the colors, the scents of her blossoms (habitually playing possum)
deaf to the melodies of the birds (knowledge lost, language
unheard)
as they sing
She calls to me but my barriers are thick (mentally stunted, physically sick)
densely scarred and wounded (as I am, to the quick)
As the sludge chokes the seabirds (screaming their lost words)
and the fishes (murdering Piscean wishes)
as Her forests are cleared by those
both greedy and vicious
I feel Mother Earth tremble (demons assemble)
beneath my feet
hear Her sigh as I place a hesitant finger (shaking, letting it linger)
on Her weakened pulse
thready and irregular
We are killing Her, Mother Earth,
mother of us all, matricide (no longer can we hide)
listen, listen to Her heartbeat...
I may have stroked the very wheel...