Best Litanies Poems
I've somehow pondered about the
rush of air
of how I could be lulled on billows, and
yet,
its notes upon my flesh eludes me--
as if in midnight trailing, weeping in refrains
this cadence glides beyond
streetlamps
on to my litanies, my expectations, my
tears
until I'm drenched by a melody ambient
as the sound of breeze.
Like a rain-child born in January
with taps in my veins, I become
a listener of seasons' tingling tunes
which inhabit my thoughts : and to
know my heart's kept secrets are
cuddled through this rhythmic hisses,
arias of both my dark and lustrous hours.
Now I trace the reel of fleeting memories dating from youth to mid- adult...this old wind chime wrapped in chrome
and antique stones fondle
timeless music whipped by storms,
rhapsodies, deaths of my
life...a hanging rune delivering me
from all I must bear--
though owned by Mom's as a hoard or collection, it was my precious harbinger:
but it echoes no more
in spaces where I loved, and still
need to love back...
Gazing at this chime of four decades drifting gently on the room knob, it has
become mute, aged... but cared for like a most treasured keepsake.
LITANIES REHEARSING ADIEU
Soft
wheezes
from
crossbills
and mistrel
fusion
pluck
refrains
from May blooms,
train litanies
rehearsing
adieu
pause
unto
biting cold
out stretched
wings
to soar
high!
_______________________________________
ACTUAL FORM: Waltz Wave
1/2/1/2/3/2/1/2/3/4/3/2/1/2/3/2/1/2/1 syllables
***Sponsor Kim Merryman
Contest Name Shall We Waltz?
++Placed 5th++
O.E. GUillermo
10:22 pm, June 13, 2015
“...The leftists that you voted for
jacked up the minimum wage,
so new workers like me cannot
get hired, much less get paid.
“And those very same people
ignore foreigners who work cheap,
they can work, and break the law,
But the same can’t be done by me!
“And then the proposed solution
to this raging dumpster fire
is to throw others' money at me
until the day that I expire?
“They create all these problems,
then watch as the city rots,
and fools like you vote for ruin
out of fear that the checks might stop!”
His mother with quite the shocked look,
Said,”Don’t talk like no honkey here!”
Then raved about slaves and Jim Crow,
the same old litanies of fear.
Clive said,”Mom, save the conspiracy,
that garbarge is hard to endure.
And stop using your skin pigment
to explain away your failures!
“John bought into all this crap,
thought his thugging was justified.
All it did was leave him lying
with a bullet between his eyes.
“I’ll not end up some dead banger,
or give up what makes a man a man,
even if I have to go out
and vote for a Republican!”
He turned to leave despite her cries,
and her endless protestations,
he had to go down to City Hall
to change his affiliations.
Glide and sail into the waves of the sea,
conquer the tides, and the groans of the wind
while motionless heaven watches,
where for decades, the sea murmurs life ~ love.
Hungry eyes, eager ears ache at the quay;
mother and I wait with cold arms at the dock.
The sea, the wind, and the heaven remain
unchanged will the sea bring the ones coming and
leaving here to the place, they desire to go?
Pain sears her thoughts when she remembers Father;
years have passed; the scars of his leaving are not yet healed.
She loves him so. She can’t forget the gleam in his eyes.
I hear Mother sob between litanies of prayer each dawn.
Only Father's return will mend her broken heart.
Years pass, the scars she wears are not yet healed.
At the seaside where Father last departed, we recall his request
Move together don’t look back, move on together, always.
In the pale light of this day, as I hold Mother’s hand and
we walk along the quay, I felt Mother shudder as she says
Move together don’t look back, move on together, always.
That day, more than most, we did not want him to be away
as a tender, embedded, memory returns of Father’s smile.
Glide and sail into the waves of the sea,
You may stand among us who survive life's tides
while motionless heaven watches, where for decades
now I tell the tale from memory of Father, the sea of life ~ love.
a new child’s hears, our eyes tear at the quay;
Yet, our open arms spread wide embracing every day.
The sea, the wind, and the heaven remain
unchanged will the sea bring the ones coming and
leaving here to the place, they desire to go?
________________________________________________________________
~~Inspired by the painting: Morning at the Quay in Venice
by Helen Allingham~~
***Thank you Debbie Guzzi.. =`)
__Olive Eloisa D. Guillermo__
4:58pm; January 21, 2015
In the sloping corners of humankind hangs the skeleton.
Ghosts are not hidden and flowers are exhausted,
Although some folds shelter beauty and
the old man can smile for some seconds
while he scratches the sky looking for
a ball that may glitter inside all.
The players cannot find the secret of the elegy,
While history dress only with one color
It is not the hour for a pilgrim. Many are left
On the side of the road with the lack of revelations.
One must remain faithful to litanies
To the holy reverence to the fatigue society.
Humans are around a corner
It does no matter if a barrel of tar is thrown in their full face.
Mouth and tongue pronounce the morning
Edition of obsessions, although the thickness of
the age and the readiness the long roll deeply sunk
no months to build effigies
I swear, I would die for you, but I have
no austerity for breath. I dream cities without clocks,
they hurt me, then I would add up stone by stone of kindness,
worry about questions, good questions,
and dream cities full of flavors and faces I can touch.
My apologies. It is late.Where there is a city
there is no city.
3.
Death, the Master, wears a thousand faces.
The white smile of the skull
Lies behind the 5 O'Clock shadow
Beneath, perhaps, those laughing eyes
Looking your way across the bar.
When the shock begins to fade I turn off the news.
I turn once more to the business of living.
To ponder overmuch over why such things happen
Is to invite the spirit to drain down to hollowness.
Before we cast off at night
Onto the uncertain seas and shores of dreamlands,
We might do well to take a long look down within,
Call up and kiss the swarming demons goodnight
While they stir in the strange shadowgaps of the long dark
Resting there on the fringes of consciousness.
Give ear to the language they speak down there,
Learn dark things from the rumble of their mystic, thunderous litanies.
Call for an uneasy peace with the Legions within,
Hold them back, if you can, with our talismans,
The magic words: Reason, Judgement, Morality.
Tumble then into a warm bed
Forget the Furies roaming just outside
Awaiting dead hours to do their work.
The deeds of the night
Will be revealed
When the mist wraiths steal away,
When the sun bleeds rose light
Across the white face of dawn.
*For rest see pt1*
Like how we teach the next generation how to treat women
And how we teach them how to act towards neighbours
Or if we dare to say to sons that others are not for raping
And people might have the right to their own bodies
But theres so much we still are not saying
So I believed in racism
But not in people being racist
And i knew of misogyny
But knew no womanhaters
I believed in their litanies
The gods of themselves they are making
Those incredulous men
Who think we are still for the taking
And i believed in mental health
But not without the stigma
I believed the words you say
Those bleeding scratches of nothing
I thought that the way
Was believing what they are saying
But I guess there is no denying
That people are bias and I am still people
Today I think that I am still growing
I am not where I was and not yet where I am going
In between in the now I live my life
I use silence as my tool
I use my words as knives
And today I believe that what we teach seem to matter
Trees grow from the roots on up
Houses lean on their foundation
Mountains fall withour their base
And now I see words and their intent are the true creation
Bloom! Bloom! O! This evermore wintry tide
Whisper litanies, wondrous lullaby,
Caress skins in that comely way you ride
Marvels of seasoned rind of litany;
As you march avidly, a lone Magi
Desert of roofs blend, your trusty drummers
Quench their arid taste, dust tongues scream, twist, prancing
About. Cadence of words dry
Like fire throat, miles ran, visage of radar
Bridge and brace me to hearken, phone ringing!
Like the soft warmth that never try to hide
Of noon-lake, a swift cut of knife sharply
Through yam, perfect sequence of each slide,
Slices of ease drop, manna fall creamy
Upon eyelids-vertigo turn up sly.
I’m butterfly, cocooned in your fingers,
Spell the craze of disturbed markets racing.
Noxious nostrils, cold nigh
To spill chilly globules, tobacco tars
Ebb cursive; somnolent steps receding.
Now I am soft like tender foliage wide
To stark sun rays, woman splayed, slippery.
Rapture, I incline to your meshed inside
Grant that laughter of a nude history
Where specters feast, their bliss and empty sigh;
Anodyne rings of mirth with diameter
Copious, contempt of your feet pattering;
So my answer is wry.
Louse, I latch to the phone, sweet chat linger
Till rain cast her nest; am I lost dreaming?
First Place in Cyndi Macmillan's Contest.
A face in a crowd grows numb on the subway
which hides evening’s woe, then closes a day,
mirroring grief across late Autumn’s sky
to wrestle with angst she cannot deny
like one thorn circling down from a fogged lair
while hours pound this final ache quite unfair.
Her dream turns bleak through uncertainty’s flow,
it knows not which compass of life to go…
frightened to death , brushing sleets of mad rain
when a long gone illness comes back again;
like time’s flick winging a dark raven’s plume
as sallow hands collect flowers abloom.
But oh this wish to live stirs ever on,
for when litanies of prayer are done
each whisper tumbles as moonbeams abide…
while nights claim her dream, “ fate is in your side.”
5/4/2016
Silent One’s Contest: Lyrics Cliché Image
Inspiration from the lyrics ‘ Mad World’
Cliché ,’ Frightened To Death’ … Image # 5
Three lovers: by Trinity Chasara 14/3/14
I followed two bliss-drunk lovers
Down a country path
Through flitting shadow
The great void of silence
Soothing sweet waves of moonlight
Just to be close to the warmth
That did freely flow gently
Over gentle lips and flaming touches
Munificent creatures in the best entwine of desire
‘My beautiful lover,’ I heard him say
With voice tainted with faux of charm
And the hues of love did spread on her cheeks
Like the beauteous designs of butterflies
That in memory’s cathedral yawned litanies
Sprawled over random hypnotic motions
I looked and looked and drank the sight
Two blossoms warbling flatteringly
Over a dreamy delight
But like birds they did see the stranger
And flew away in flutter
Down the clustered weeds
Of a surreptitious quest
5
morning soon with cobalt sunrise
scarlet banners in the sea
pockets of fog hang in the balance
weights and counterweights prepare
to launch another day of searching
shark infested mine fields await
truth contested answers sadly
alone on the road to jericho
few to hold my blistered hands
in the company of angels wishing
litanies of theosophical litigation play
the fine art of heaven’s delay
fire and brimstone lovers leap
no will to climb the canyon steep
I am Cerulean
the long distance voyager
6
ready for the fight
laden beast of burden light
guide me through the slippery night
from this no man island home
oasis of bipolar green
fed by desert venom stream
on highwires of opinion
leaving arts creative kin
drybed intelligence has been
known to catch the ferry late
artificial armour of resolve
soft underbelly convictions
dissolve
7
wasted wormwood weldwood years
accusing fingers of suspicion
lawless hands admission
grow-op shameless exhibition
cold the beaches brickyard stare
as forest giants dare
to cut the timber weeping
urban fight with rural weapons
packed in peace at last
redeem her noble past
overload a memory with compassion
for the children of her dreams
acres of wishful thinking
never end it seems
I leave to catch the seven twenty
up the river diesel steams
my soul the pen of a ready writer
on a moon of full beams
8
I search and rescue run
concrete shoes my nemesis
rhythms of a broken highway
through crowded forest streets
in an age of deliverance
cloudscapes beckon warily
longships on sky lakes
to escape the winding shores
sunrise sunsets pardon
crimes of passion thinking
touch alone my arrowsmith
robed in virgin white
restless fog and pale visions
light the valley of tears
We had anecdotal tales to tattle of bruising battles
And through them tell of injuries we felt
Litanies lamenting limited lives sunken in debacles
Discarded in the putrid places we dwelt
And from that ruin of beginning I salvage naught
To explain the internecine wars then
Using bottles and stones through the streets we fought
Before the cowardly eyes of each citizen.
It makes me laugh now, for we had nothing to claim
Except the misery of the simmering slums
And except for the repercussion’s scars, blend blame
With the ointment. We sat on rusty drums
Where men spoke of sexual valor like singed fishermen
And between each parody of the dry tale
Remember us in our opposing villages, blind children
Fighting each other over the empty pale.
What was it about? Why did we do it? Why did we hate
The other without a cause? Why did we
Not take our insurrections to the oppressors’ grinning gate
And lodge our protest against history?
I fought with foes I never knew, and wasted my desire
On the garbage garbled up by fires
And know the old pain when I see new gangs aspire
Towards the quicksand and funeral pyres.
Let us take you up then
Where litanies of darkness mount the sun
Rest us on the magic night, bleakest evil oars
Arid pair of sleepy rebels float, limbs and root
Pretending what we are, reversed dreams of fields
Open as the window that is life, or so it seems
Hear the whish of mindful trees and zombie bark
Let us take you down, in dionysian diction
Where reality fluffs it’s cranberry tendrils
Where “real” is just a latin undulation of noise
STOP THE RAIN.
Fiends of forest to stop rain
Tall trees tenanted by spirits
Preparations in the make
For the day to close within
The dusk burdens of stake.
Mysteries of death and life
In useful annals of time
Pertinent flesh gets entangled
Within the motions of stars
For some mournful wrangles.
Phases of moon, changes of season
Visible seen in some celestial places
Emblemed provisions earmarked
For the litanies timed for future.
Set in motions the pungent season
Spring times & the hoary winter
In deeds wilting of frozen tongues
Intricated by markers of universe
Underwritten by wardens of verse.
Brilliant colors, sapphire and gold
Emerald and scarlet, hues of lavender
Breathe through my senses, penetrating
The depths of my soul, where only God
Can know the answers to my vibrant litanies
Racing desires, flaming like a fiery praise
Caressing my thoughts in turquoise and amber
Waves of melodies so soft and gentle
They free my spirit from its words and needs
Glowing passions across my naked dreams
Whispers of melancholy promises reach through me
Into the sensations that break across my lights
In shadows, erasing the moon and stars of night
With rays of blushing tangerine sunlight
Glimmering through the dewy rose in bloom
Fading into the darkness of midnight fantasies
Flooding my prayers with hope, kindness and inspiration
Poetry vows to send words of faith and love
Into the creativity that comes from the heart
On the wings of a warm and whimsical compassion
Beautiful ideas flow silently through trees
Of deepest aspirations and optimism, hope
That rides the sea of possibility with purity
Shining across the faith of a heart who feels
Every promise that has been satisfied with sincerity
Along limbs of reminiscences, on crimson leaves
Grow gratitude and thanksgiving crying tears
Of impressions and beliefs that come alive
In the ones who know only the imagination can fulfill
The quest for intimacy with an angel’s presence
In the forest of my dreams, awaiting reality
Watching stars fall across the vast darkness
On night’s beautiful haven of moonlight alive
Reflecting on the insight and revelation of a moment
When grace gives me the piercing stare of certainty
Finally, after all this time on the quiet flames
Of compassion and caring and innovation
There comes the prayerful assurance that I have
Been led through the jungle of reveries into
A new day, a new way, a new fate…
I can see the forest of my dreams,
In spite of the veracity of the trees
In the forest of my dreams poetry contest
Sponsored by mystic rose rose
April 11, 2021