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.
Porcelain chalk white mask
a jester, clown, for all
veils verbal tongue held still;
liminal space for words
lest written by a quill.
Porcelain chalk white mask
masquerades as muted
gestures on staged display
hides tumbling diamond tears -
Pierrot to portray …
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 background soundtracks.
No songs to soothe our souls
or help tired minds relax.
If it was not for words.
How will eyes view nature
when art fails to describe
moon, blooms, angst or romance?
Nothings left to inscribe.
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 of words
sighed with a tender flow
when whispered in the dark
sets lovers’ hearts aglow.
The notes of love in verse;
the poetry of thoughts
sung softly in the night,
with stardust raining down,
ignites love’s midnight flight.
January 5, 2024
Poem of the Day - January 6, 2024
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 at veiled blue.
through days that caught the moon,
with the whim that soon grasps
those who were backing me,
lasting the same long clasp
I sneak glance at veiled blue.
then climb the heights of sky.
zest the bright stars that shine.
Through the twilight impulse.
glimpse that my soul is thine.
I sneak glance at veiled blue.
Oh, divine timeless throne.
Your love has embraced us.
through my path shone a blaze.
freed and borne with life fuss.
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 sings
her stellar symphony
reviving lost musings.
Beside the sea I wait~
the crashing of the waves
sparkling like sunlit snow
as they return to shore
my love will, too, I know.
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 your sweetheart's lips,
kiss you like quill and ink
Love is a metaphor.
Simple to comprehend.
When conduct connects speech,
words bloom from heart to tongue.
Romance is what you preach.
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 vase,
they lounge in waisted glass
with petals kidskin sleek
in shades as warm as fire,
oh, glamor girls trés chic.
The tulips in the vase,
romantic redheads bloom.
Their teacup tepals filled;
ideas nouveau riche
with secrets sunset spilled,
the tulips in the vase
as Venus feeds their dreams.
Demure, in damsels’ dupe,
a still-life painting prop—
enslaved for art they droop.
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 outside,
In a bristling gesture—
God, now I see in you
Past my bleak reflections.
Before the sun's pieces,
While dawn is watched by moon,
Sun has the grace to gleam—
He'll come in the long fade,
For his Moon maiden, seen.
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 halls,
sonatas without soul.
Since wick and flame lost light
my space inside like coal.
Piano music plays,
the white noise like a ghost.
My fluid fingers mourn
in melodies of you —
the thorns on rose reborn.
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 love.
When the sunset queen sings,
first star of twilight bleeds
flaming lilies of heart~
inking dusky dreamscapes
with mellifluous art.
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 trembles,
and sheds its sherbet scar...
A winged mermaid blossoms,
hearts of manta rays swath
with love's ivory rose -
unfurling aqua kins,
that ruby thorns unfroze...
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 so divine
Passing clouds stir the muse
As autumn leaves fly by
With trees adorned in gold,
A lyric starts to flow
With splendor to unfold
Passing clouds stir the muse
In winter's somber mood
Each season to admire,
Then snowflakes start to fall,
The poet to inspire
4-4-2022
Form M - Monchielle - New Poetry Contest
Theme: Poetry
Sponsor: Constance La France
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 so sweet?
You make it all worthwhile.
I love how you love me.
I'm as rich as a king
As your love feeds my soul
And fills my heart with joy.
You alone make it whole.
I love how you love me.
It's worth as much as gold.
I pray to God that it lasts
A lifetime and a half;
May it remain steadfast!
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 drowned in wells…
damn clock’s incessant chime—
no, shadows do not love
the wrinkles and the lines.
They etch your map their ink;
topography of life
where sun o’er valleys sink.
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 GLASS BOTTOM
Alone in glass bottom,
with plankton underneath -
boat’s in midriff of sea.
I’ve plenty of water.
Sink or swim - am I free?
Alone in glass bottom
Should I write a message?
Bottle it up or send…?
Could be my last chance to
navigate and defend.
Alone in glass bottom
Should I fish for a shark
and devour great white fin -
drive it deep in my heart?
Would that too be a sin?
Alone in glass bottom
swirling last gulp of rum,
the famous Davy Jones
frees the gold…and I grieve,
as the deep binds my bones.
4/6/2022
Contest: Form M - Monchielle
Sponsor: Constance La France
Theme: Ocean/Sea
RhymeZone and HowManySyllables.