Best Monchielle Stanza Poems

Porcelain chalk white mask
  moves with silence of mime
that hides a lovelorn face
 moonstruck by orbs of light
with shadows to embrace.

Porcelain chalk white mask
 a cloak of much disguise
hides from the world a heart 
 that has lost its amour
and yet, performs for art....

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If it was not for words
there'd be no poetry.
Can a veiled muse survive,
unable to release
poems that make us thrive?

If it was not for words.
Can we cope being mute
when hearts have to suppress
reasons behind sorrows,
teardrops cannot express.

If it was not for words.
There would be no lyrics,
only...

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The notes of love in verse;
a melody of life
penned softly a la carte
will render thoughts of bliss
when whispered heart-to-heart.

The notes of love in verse;
a symphony of hope
shared ‘tween two hearts in love 
just trying to connect
beneath the stars above.

The notes of love in verse;
a rhapsody...

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Written: December 16, 2023
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I sneak glance at veiled blue.
as swank stars start  to shine,
Sleeping, I sensed your love.
as warmth weaves through the heart,
Feeling the night above

I sneak glance...

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Beside the sea I wait~
the dreamy dawn to shine
and paint horizon's hue
in tawny, taupe and teal
unveiling vivid view.

Beside the sea I wait~
the early birds in flight
arching like tiara 
making sky a painting 
of placid aurora.

Beside the sea I wait~
the whisper of the breeze
soaring as sunshine...

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Love is a metaphor,
which glows in vibrant hues.
An abstract masterpiece
from Da Vinci's palette,
easing souls to feel peace.

Love is a metaphor.
A guiding moon compass
with spotlights at midnight.
Showing how lovers meet,
then shine in diamond light.

Love is a metaphor.
Portrayed through Rumi's verse.
With words that make you think,
how will...

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Before the sun's pieces,
Shine on brim's, coffee mug;
And with my prepping airs—
It's all jeopardy to 
Roll frost in bed somewhere.

Before the sun's pieces,
Rain in a golden chain.
I pine at streaked window.
How bitter is the fog
From where night morn dreams go.

Before the sun's pieces,
Ice below the...

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The tulips in the vase, 
   a clan of lassies fair.
      Their buds they hold the gold, 
   the pollen of their youth 
and promise sunrise told,

      the tulips in the...

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Piano music plays.
Soft notes emote mid air,
like tear-stung doves they fly 
in atmosphere of fog.
The clouds, they shroud the sky. 

Piano music plays, 
the keys, they seize my blues—
the depth of blue, so vast.
Poetic ivories 
harassed… recite the past. 

Piano music plays.
Dull echoes haunt the...

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When the sunset queen sings,
jinxed Jasmines wither, and~
primrose willows quiver,
unfurling clemency 
in ivory sliver.

When the sunset queen sings,
wailing waves pause in awe
sea-fairies waltz through haze,
twirling to tuscan tunes,
flipping turmeric rays.

When the sunset queen sings,
nightingales sigh and trill,
as moon pearls soar above
cinnamon glazed ripples,
ferrying psalms of...

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A winged mermaid blossoms, 
awash with marine snow ~
Poseidon's ocean-pearl,
breathing jasmine sirens
as iced eyelashes curl... 

A winged mermaid blossoms,
when fish-angels ache for
arctic apricity,
and glacial nymphs carve a
cruel felicity... 

A winged mermaid blossoms, 
as strawberry conch shells,  
drape the neon sea-star ~ 
my minty sun...

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Passing clouds stir the muse
 As flowers bloom in spring
 Lilacs sway in the breeze,
 A haiku stirs within
 With such enchanting ease

  Passing clouds stir the muse
 In blue skies of summer
 Sonnets in the sunshine,
 With scenes painted in rhymes,
 Each stanza...

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I love how you love me 
Morning, noon and night time. 
I love you just the same!
Slow-burn love, now white-hot...
Passions you set aflame. 

I love how you love me. 
I feel it in your touch 
And see it in your smile. 
Boy, does it taste...

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Davy Jones: Do you fear… death? Do you fear that dark abyss? All your deeds laid bare, all your sins punished?

                —Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man’s Chest 2006

ALONE IN...

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No– shadows do not love
the angles of your face.
Reflection in a cage;
the mirror— enemy
in atmosphere of age,

no.. shadows do not love
the smoother skin of youth.
Your worries; furrow wears,
a trench where troops retreat,
—accumulated years.

No! shadows do not love
mascara and soft light;
distracts from sense of time
and wishes...

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