Best Illusion Poems
This piece was sparked by an idea in a fellow poet Tom Woody’s’ — “Last Dance Amid the Stars.” I however, followed a very different emotional path — one that avoids finality and leaves room for mystery and one’s own imagination. The story also touches on the true stories of a growing trend with tragic consequences — lives lost in the pursuit of that one perfect selfie in scenic spots. This dangerous craze has already claimed lives. It’s a heartfelt reminder for us all to stay grounded — in every sense of the word.
Lyrics
Into The Black Hole Sun - A Cosmic Ballad of Love, Loss and Illusion
Phone in my left hand,
a metal hook in my right
A Grand Canyon dream
dust in the night
"Just one more selfie,"
her voice still remains
now she’s lying below,
and I’m drowning in blame
Oh, the wind the wind
it whispers her name
echoes of laughter,
lost in the game
We were dancing on Neptune,
chasing the stars
riding Saturn’s rings
like a cosmic guitar
skipping past Earth,
straight to Venus we’d fly
Why'd her wings disappear
as she fell from the sky?
Now I ride the Milky Way,
lost in the haze
coasting astral winds
through Jupiter’s maze
Had a talk with a rover
‘bout faith and decay
But it don’t really matter
she’s too far away
This void, this void
keeps calling me back with
lures of a one-way ticket, that’s a fact
We were dancing on Neptune,
chasing the stars
riding Saturn’s rings
like a cosmic guitar
skipping past Earth,
straight to Venus we’d fly
What made her lose her wings
when she fell from the sky?
One last swig, one last thought
One last look at what I’ve lost
Slowly I fall lost in the haze
into the dark where shadows blaze
Black hole sun, light up the sky
Spinning into stardust,
Where memories lie
Gravity fades, no more pain
Just an endless reunion
Just an endless reunion
In space
(one-act play)
The patient
They call it a sickness, a psychosis, an insanity, but I know: this is the leverage
by means of which I can set the wheels of the universe in motion. All I need is to find the last fragment they hide from me in the thorazine haze, and the bevel gears of this rickety old, long derelict mechanism will work again.
The medical board resolution:
“…schizophrenic… unruly… incurable, liable for drowning in the hospital’s sinkhole”.
1st psychiatrist
(looking at the sky)
Don't you think the Sun slowly moves across the sky today?
2nd psychiatrist;
It’s an illusion, my friend. It’s an illusion.
01.06.2019
Eight Word Challenge Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Kai Michael Neumann
This may come unspoken
dismay is mostly taboo
This count feels endless
discount refills the queue
This trust I lost in God
distrust found in the pew
This stain runs too deep
disdain sets in like glue
This dress shows all flaws
distress perfectly fits you
This gust left a whisper
disgust in what it blew
This pair of nuts lost out
despair one couldn’t screw
This missed the G spot
dismissed as nothing new
This solves all our questions
dissolves the answers too
This illusion belies the hurt
disillusion because it’s true
By
David Kavanagh
Life Fled As I Sought Yet Another Day,
( verses born from the illusion of immortality, 1977)
Part One
As I went beyond that black veil,
Having trod this earth and seen hell,
I look back while daring to say,
" Life fled as I sought yet another day."
Yes, youth was fine in days of dust,
Love its great bounty sought, a must,
Little thought of the later pay
" Life fled as I sought yet another day."
World was a ride, its glory great,
Of its sweetest pleasures I ate,
I that went about my own way,
" Life fled as I sought yet another day."
I a warrior born by birth,
A child of heart, a child of earth,
A lone vagabond as they say
" Life fled as I sought yet another day."
A true joy, my shadow and I,
Wanderer beneath heavenly sky,
Hellbent to do just as I may,
" Life fled as I sought yet another day."
O' sweet future lay at my feet,
As I sought coming death to cheat,
Fate cried, " No more can you stay"
" Life fled as I sought yet another day."
As I went beyond that black veil,
Having trod this earth and seen hell,
I look back while daring to say,
" Life fled as I sought yet another day."
Robert J. Lindley, March 5th, 1977
Rhyme, ( To live, love and dream, a life )
Presented 1-13-2021
Note: deleted
We have our differences in the shadows,
yet, act so different in the light.
Crimson shadows dance
within our dull routines.
With the moon beneath my wings,
I drink softly from the bottle.
I rehearsed this kiss a thousand times,
as archaic bridges emerge from the fog.
Come softly, butterfly...
Land upon my crooked finger.
The ebb and flow of I don't know
refills my unsure mind.
The aurora illusion,
novels of my life slowly written with light
as green and blue balloons float
away to the moon.
Remember
that fresh smell
of coffee
mixing with
the salt of
the sea?
A table for two
on the beach,
a starlit sky,
the distant whale cry.
Holding hands, a sip and a sigh.
Burning bonds and bridges,
is just another thought to dole.
I should have told you that I loved you,
instead, I've these tattooed regrets on my soul.
Memories are often deceiving
Yield to all the possibilities
Permanence is an illusion
Everything is in constant change
Reign in moments of confusion
Stretch your subconscious range
Ponder a new or different vision
Everything is in constant change
Constancy is key, not temporization
Tomorrow brings something strange
Incorporate and embrace intrusion
Venture an exhilarating exchange
Everything is in constant change
It’s just an illusion
that softly stirs sadness within my broken heart’s
confusion.
I have been tricked.
I'm seduced by the Queen of Tarts -
and pricked.
Voodoo
casts magic darts -
you.
It’s just an illusion,
I'm seduced by the Queen of Tarts -
you.
as best she can
she tries
to insulate
each gap
of silence
the voids the cracks
with everything she can
anything to blur
the reality
she wants
so desperately
to gloss over
and forget
mindless chatter
most times sadly pathetic
AP: Honorable Mention 2022
“is life an illusion?” ...
As a young kid, loved the magical illusion...
With every flick of the hand, a world unfolds,
Mysteries hidden in stories told,
Where wonder reigns and logic defies,
In the heart of magic, the illusion lies.
As a grown-up kid, illusion took over thoughts ....
In a world where wands weave dreams so bright,
Illusions dance in shadows, taking flight,
With whispered spells and secrets to unfold,
Magic's embrace reveals the tales untold.
As an adult, chased illusion every day ....
As a mature adult, realities started to sink in.....
A moonbeam drips across my shadow—
a silver tear on the canvas of night,
yet it trembles, weightless,
as though woven from breath,
a mirage cradled by wind.
The desert of my mind stretches,
each dune a memory that flickers—
a flame extinguishing itself
in the vast mirror of my thoughts.
I chase a golden grain of truth,
curling through fingers
like sand in an hourglass—
each bead a moment
that slipped just beyond recall,
recalling Poe’s plaintive question:
is all this “a dream within a dream”?
Kabir whispered that life
is but a bubble, a moon’s reflection—
a fragile orb suspended
above an ocean of emptiness —
I catch its image in my gaze,
yet the bubble bursts before I know its name.
Silhouettes of truth shimmer—
a forest of fractal whispers dancing
with branches that fold into themselves —
reality unfurls and folds,
a kaleidoscope in the mind’s eye.
In this hall of mirrors
I press my palm against glass—
feeling warmth
that dissolves into cool air,
a phantasm of made-believe.
Still, I wander through the echo—
where light splits into shards of phantom hope—
and learn, as Amy Lowell watched the beetle hide—
how beauty flees when chased .
In the end, illusion is not an absence,
but the prism through which we see—
and even as it fades,
its fragments paint the world
with wonder.
star-swept with
soft blushing blooms ...
this slow sink ,
swathes my henna heart
with deep mauve hues ...
as I fall into the frostbitten lake
mispronouncing ~
the marmoris of metaphors
that were meant
to burn with magic ,
where the soulmate of poetry
breaks within the tears of sunset ~
sipping sighs of sorrow
from the crystal sky ,
that leaks loneliness
through the cracks of
liquid lilacs and lavender light ,
because there seems to be
no translation for the
language of love
that weaves woes
from warm wisteria
instead of blossoming
in coffee-scented chiffons
moulded into origami orchids ~
without any creases
and I wear no name
in the absence
of your ablaze august ashes …
read me swiftly
orchestrating in
the blackcurrant tattoos
breathing ... in tributaries
stretching to
the silent traces of trauma ,
twinkling with
turquoise and turpentine
for, I am not alive ~
but the seas still crash
the swollen shadows in my ribs ,
kissing the fallen sun …
that ebbs and flows …
through violets
of vaporising violas
like an incensed inferno ,
uncensored with ultraviolence
escaping the delirious doom
within driftwood dreams …
I want you ~
to not speak to me
so in affection
in this sparkling satanic siesta,
because poetry
has forevermore been
my saviour and my slaughterer ~
that leaves me …
drifting with the flow ,
in exile … evermore …
chained with
moonstone cobwebs
of confused consciousness
and conversing cryptics ~
befogged with gaslit goldens
laced with forest greens,
where verses wander
like a villain ,
withering
in emeralds …
listen, O velvet ink,
longing to be
r e
s c u
e d …
Illusion illuminated instantly
Reality realized… rationally
Nature noticed normally
Vision vitalized vibrantly
Life lived… laudably
Your aura packs rapt confusion -
it snap drags me with a cyclone’s aloof ~
Your spring perfume cloaks your stroked fall spoof
and your bright appeal conceals delusion -
yet, my eager seeks your smoked flair’s intrusion.
My climbing hope seeks a clue -
it examines gaps in your fickle climate ~
I attempt to riot your depths of private.
Your sky-air raises hints of midnight blue
to dance breezy-twirls on my need's point of view.
Intoxication steeps your vibrations -
flirt notes disguise your spirit’s tone ~
still my swollen need seeks burns in your cool zone.
Your essence boasts self-confident foundations
while my patina pales from riled frustrations.
There's a rehearsal in the castle, cult party masquerading on the dance floor latin verse sermons the words heard will entrance you, transfix you,
The devil advances towards you and sits you around the marble table where we talk about our carnal instincts and every situation that we find ourselves deep in.
Morning star calling from the depth of his evil pits where I sleep on bed of nails just to hammer down my dreams with something more uncomfortable than standing on ya steep cliff.
Cold and lonely only having ghosts here to speak with about the meanings of life and the lies that we keep hid.
Within controlling moments of emotions that we sink in and sync with relations on a basis of us needing to create a status where were being with each other cos we're linking and we discover that we break it...... now we're seeing our relationship sinking it sinks to the deep abyss
My vision is impaired by unclear scenes I'm witnessing and feeling sickened to the stomach from the butterflies in flight when my gut instinct senses some lies from bad vibes I'm like
Am I jumping to conclusions straining to think straight brain becomes a nuisance
Am I jumping to conclusions the illusion of love is still just as intrusive.
And I'm tryna figure out what to do brain doing figure eights tryna draw up clue to this mad moment
I feel clueless in bad moods, usually I'm living as if I've something to lose
And now I'm tryna figure out what to do blaming you isn't saving myself from the truth proving our pacts broken.....
......Will I think logical or act on emotion when I'm tryna figure out what to do brain doing figure eights tryna draw up clue to this mad moment
I feel brutal in bad moods, cluelessly now living as if I've nothing to lose
And I'm tryna figure out what to do thinking of a better way to proceed to see all this bull through re-evaluating recent events judging my errors bearing in mind I'm civil and often couldn't be fairer
Anything I tell you isn't out of a conscience I'm conscious but I'm hurting inside and this stomach aches constant
I've put up with this nonsense dealing with ghosts
Like sometimes it bothers me and sometimes it don't
“The Scent of Jasmin”
As I wait for my love, like so many times before, beside the willow tree near the brook, its water glitters like diamonds in the midday sun. The wind was blowing ever so softly through the trees. The anticipation of her arrival was blissful anguish. Longing to see her once again, to touch her, to hold her filled my very soul. As I hear the rustling of the autumn leaves along the ground, I turn to see my love gracefully walking toward me. Her long flowing hair gave way to the soft unyielding Autumn winds carrying it to one side accentuating her beauty. Once we meet, she slides her hands into mine, melting my heart with her smile. As I pull her close to me, the scent of her perfume was captivating, the scent of Jasmin, and then our lips softly touch. However, reality opens my eyes, and she is no longer standing in front of me. Her vision, a product of my past, my memories of a love taken from me much too soon. Her haunting memory fills my heart with joy and overwhelming grief that I will never again smell the scent of Jasmin.
V.M. Tackett
It's the empty spaces
That we long to fill
It's our lifelong dreams
Lying unfulfilled
The apathy takes hold
The caring ceases
A semblance of a normal life
Lies at our feet in pieces
When the magic no longer amazes
And charm has all but died
Nothing left to hold onto but hope
And give it another try