Best Narrate Poems
I still remember
how you were
there in the dark,
holding my
bleeding heart.
Whilst I wandered,
sleepless under
soundless spheres.
Now I search
for your starlit
symphony
that echoes,
as idyllic octaves,
from the last song
you sang for
our lost youth;
demons we fought,
when colorless dusks
abandoned me,
between tuneless
sheets of emptiness,
where citrine gold
streaked wavelets of
strawberry scented
sunrise and
amethyst sunset
composed
hibiscus hymns.
But when ink
within my soul
hides behind
pomegranate lies,
that I truly despise,
amidst crimson-clawed
chaos of cluttered
calligraphy,
crawling in silence
along cursive linings
carved in
psychedelic perianths ~
can you hear
my pleas vibrating
through unwritten lyrics,
scrawled in
seaweed green?
Some melodies need
no words nor voice,
to narrate noiseless
refrains of
endless loss,
orchestrated
from seraphic
strings—
whistling
peacock promises,
that linger
within my
violet blue veins,
coated with
helium love.
And even in
death,
you and I
will forever,
remain as
immortal kins—
like the
evening moon
and the
midnight sun,
chasing
dewberry daydreams,
fructified from sage
mint roots,
waltzing to
your perfumed
presence in
the elysian castle.
I will never stop
singing our soft
cotton serenades,
even if the blackest
of stones from the
greyest hail quartz,
dimmed the
sangria seas
that ripples deep
into the shimmering
gates of your
home above
the seven skies.
Categories:
narrate, best friend, death, death
Form:
Free verse
In a black and white world,
feathered fingertips caress
ebony and ivory keys -
melodically forming a myriad
of vibrant and vivid hues,
diversifying dulcet emotive reflections.
In a world of spoken falsehood,
expressions that cannot be spoken,
aid each truthful touch to narrate
speechless secret serenades.
For soulmates who choose to listen,
minds allure to the grace of
mellifluous sentimental symphonies,
harmonising hollow hearts through
tantric vibrations, gently echoing to
soothe sorrowful soundless souls.
Rhapsodic pianist strokes satin white skin,
tunefully kissing black lustrous lips.
Hearts play music secretly
establishing spiritual connections.
Ivory and ebony rectangles dance
in eternal kindred devotion,
igniting spirits to whirl to the
rhythm of sensual sensations.
Last note leads to another healed composition
as departing flames of passion illuminate lovers paths.
A blank page appears at the end of the song sheet.
Tired pianist fingers rest as the mind is absent of lyrics,
paralysed to play a melody for its own suppressed heart.
Lost, pondering mute tears which fail to cleanse its soul.,
The Silent One
9 January 2018
Categories:
narrate, analogy, love, music, romantic
Form:
Free verse
Narrate you own life's story
and tell you own life's tale
Don't leave it up for grabs
or even up for sale!
Write down your own life's story
before the others do
Wading through words and phrases
that aren't remotely true...
Plan out your own life's story
before it's done for you-
and you're stuck acting out a life
that you despise and rue.
Plot out your own life's story
or at least, Act Two (or Three)
Rewrite your script, if needed
to set your spirit free!
Dress yourself with color
costume yourself with care
Create the character you want to be
and strut with catwalk flair!
Design and build your life's stage
or at least, rearrange the props
and play your role with moxie
not caring if it flops...
Create your own life's story
as producer, director, star-
and then kick back & enjoy the show
no matter how bizarre!
Be your own show's critic
ignoring all other reviews
Lavish your life with praise
acknowledging cast and crew.
Become your very own fan club
awaiting each scene of your day
Taking joy in each thoughtful detail
of your glorious, quirky play!
Categories:
narrate, identity, life, people, perspective,
Form:
Rhyme
i narrate me own story in a fake english accent. the bloody typewriter is
broken, it can't capitalize. i'm out of coins for the heater. i can see me own
breath. it must be really bad . it's summer here in london. i'm a tough guy who
carries a gun. don't mean i don't want to look good. i freshen up my lipstick,
light up a cigarette and offer one to my secretary. she is hot really hot.
like i said it's summer. she don't wear lipstick it wouldn't help. in the
encyclopedia under the word butch is her picture.
i put out my cig in an ashtray overflowin. i'd tell her to empty it but she scares me.
she only wears one gold earring. who does that? i'm workin on a case, already
drank half the beers. by the way i'm a dick a private dick. the name is rock,
rock hard. there's a knock at the door. this could be bad she has two fourty fives,
she's also got a gun.
she's holding an airline ticket. no reason. she says she just likes it.
whatever! maybe it has to do with some kind of contest.
she says we're going for a ride. we are driving when she gets a flat.
i pump she pumps then we get out of the car and fix the flat. never liked
cars, horses are more convenient. less breakdowns. she takes us to a
party everyone is jumpin for joy, so joy gets up and leaves. bet you wish
this was going somewhere. it's not. like i said i'm a dick.
11~28~2014
Contest: Chopped III
Sponsor: craig cornish
Categories:
narrate, humor, humorous,
Form:
Narrative
Sometimes In silence
I question citrine stars~
what streams beneath
murky waters,
Is hope still flowing
through rusty ripples,
why do we live
in an orb
of sheer blindness,
would the wind
ever seize tunnels
behind the black hole,
or are we destined
to narrate novels
too narrow and unseen
for the naked eyes.
Whilst the earth
lies dreaming,
manifesting milky-ways
quilted on magical mats,
wishing, hoping, praying
that pastel colored patience
and crystal clear compassion
would vaguely sway
like glowing fireflies
amongst the darkest
edges of innermost core.
Transmitting seraphic
breezes upon
tender branches
of silk cotton trees.
But amidst the
destructive defacing
of turquoise heart
within evergreen forests,
sun and the
moon still flicker
streaks of poetry
along the linings
of tattered
tweaks and wilted weed.
Yet worldly impulses
fail to remember
that mother nature
is in need of kindness,
as she’s been
fed poisonous petals
dipped in a quagmire
of ignorance.
Escorting her
golden spirits into an
inexorable grievance,
as ghastly greediness
left no rosy seasoning,
of soils we strolled,
paths unnamed and
undiscovered halt,
questioning toils
of intrinsic creation~
the earth lies
in solitary slumber,
for in delicate dreams
we sing songs
of tranquility,
more mellifluous
than the burning
fumes we
inhale mindlessly.
Categories:
narrate, dream, earth,
Form:
Free verse
Atacama, Eden of winds,
flower of abandoned rocks and of sapleter,
homestead of flamingoes and geysers,
and above all ,
below an azure sky,
mountains are carrying on their tops
ice of the past.
Old villages tell us their stories,
Toconce, Toconao, Chiu-Chiu,
carry in their canons
life,
water from deep below
let flowers and vegetables grow.
Chiu-Chiu, oasis of the desert,
a green spot,
surrounded by fragments of history
with the colour of orange, red and brown,
embedded in fragile foam of salt and hope,
the history of the Atacama.
Still alive in their churches.
Fragments of an ancient culture
reflecting on the surface of Río Loa.
Like ants – far away,
dispersed in vibrant light
some Vicuñas are looking
for tranquility and forage.
The geysers of El Tatio
send their hot water into the cold and pure air.
How pacient the Atacama is with us,
slaves of modern times
with the desire for paradise
with the dual face of history and hope.
Salar de Atacama, show me your
cracked and wounded face,
your wrinkles of solitude.
Far in the distance the chain of volcanoes,
with towering Lincancabur,
and its shouldered knapsack of crystals and ice,
holding its splendour towards the sky
with the colours of lapis lazuli and light agate.
Toconao, the ruins of Quitor greet you,
dormant since ages
they narrate the history of the Inca,
of their last refuge and their last battle with
Pedro de Valdivia,
who came with his men
to break the bravery of Inca soldiers
with thunder and destruction.
The waterfalls of the hot spings of Puritama
shoot their water into the air with the colours of rainbows,
drawing delicate faces of life
on dry sand and charming stones.
The wind from the mountains carries songs,
flute music, ancient tunes,
stories of salt, gypsum and clay
to the Valle de la Luna,
to let it remain calm and unchanged
with its eyes filled with dust and stones
in the eternal canto of earth.
Atacama, heart of the North,
plant of wind
in the song of history,
you make the day sound
and rock to sleep the nights,
lonely between the arms of the mountains
and the Altiplano.
Categories:
narrate, historywater, history, water,
Form:
Free verse
In silence we admire the splendor of our universe,
surrounded by breathtaking scenery ever so diverse.
Golden Sun, pale moon and silver stars animate an artist's mind,
whilst a poet creates imagery pleasing eyes that are blind.
Whispers of serene stars echo like a melodic lullaby,
but some dark minds serenade in lyrics we can't identify.
We all become fragile reflecting a mourning butterfly,
but some souls adopt envious eyes clouded in ebony skies.
In a dream world of charm, jealousy is an undying misery,
resentment is regretful with fake tales veiled in mystery.
Some ink is invisible when scribbled across a canvas of tragedy,
especially when the tongue paints an image of insanity.
Sincerity is a charm of elegance only pure hearts emanate,
immune to fabricated falsehoods a storyteller will narrate.
Categories:
narrate, betrayal, deep,
Form:
Rhyme
" Pardon me,
if my soul has been p a i n t e d ,
with a lavender lake of solemnity,
but, I'll f o r e v e r be a soulful siren,
navigating midst neon s e a f o a m s ,
and sculpting an origami of honesty
~ like the archangels of heavenly faith "
When the 'Swans of Sun'
sing in a soft echo,
behind silvery beams
of oceanic clouds,
I always become
a winter's twilight,
that misses those
subtle hues of silky spring,
as bittersweet stars
tremble and fall
upon my misty eyelids,
like ruby jewels,
scattered with
jasmine scents and
falling on glass-tulips.
My story is more than
speckles of glittery stardust,
for, you shall hear
the heartbeats of harp,
breathing within me,
and unfurling upon
lotus layers of harmony,
knitted by an eternal shine.
Perhaps, ice crystals floating
on puddles of sunrays,
too search for a purpose,
and compel life to chase
that rusting light,
escaping from
crackles of lead skies.
I wonder,
is my sakura moon,
a sea of pomegranate promises,
dipped in maple scars?
Perhaps, my muse
is forbidding me,
and my paper kingdom
of sage and saffron,
shall be soaked
in a scarlet sanctuary
of aching phrases ~
arching beyond
aqua ashes of brokenness.
There, my heart is crowned
on a bleeding rose,
as a 'spirit of rosemary runes',
when its tears trace the
luscious lips of petals,
laced with secrets, unseen.
I'll always narrate
these tangible tales
to red robins,
describing how a
dynasty of dreams
kept burning inside
my poetic flames,
carving vermillion silhouettes
across pastel pages,
where healing
will be sketched,
like a rhymeless perfume
and the immortal dove
will rest upon
a pearly crown
of snow-white hibiscus.
Categories:
narrate, deep, emotions, imagery, life,
Form:
Free verse
Write Me
your ballad of beliefs
your epistle of emotions
your parable of paradigms
your chronicle of convictions
Underline Me
------------ -------
leave nothing out
embrace the honesty
bare your naked soul
Italicize Me
finesse the cadence
narrate with engaging elan
embellish with panache and aplomb
UPPERCASE ME
Magnify the Momentous
Shout from the Summits
Accentuate the Ascendant Apogees
Bold Me
use your signature font
imbue me with the vocabulary of your DNA
...the glossary of your very own fingerprints
*Punctuate*
your paragraphs with personality;
your chapters with charm -
your stanzas with s t y l e !
I am your diary of daydreams
your scrapbook of stories
your poem of promises
your litany of life
I am your tale
Write
me
written 6 July 2023
Categories:
narrate, life, write, writing,
Form:
Free verse
It amazes me
They say all men were created equally
But that’s denied throughout history
Theirs starts with constitutions revolutions and bravery
They tell us ours is gangs chains and slavery
It’s pretentious
And I’m offended
You started the race just so you could win it
And they did…well they did
Until we realized that an eagle can’t be judge by its ability to be a pig
False metrics
A ruler being held by media outlets rendering our image helpless
They narrate that our great minds are bipolar, out of order or just selfish
Encourage us to swallow your dreams
Beat our women , eat our young and wash it down with the tiniest sips from their revenue stream
And we say nah
Trick no good
Ms Maya Angelo knew
Sojourner too cause Rosa didn’t move so Mlk can spread the truth
I’m not the smartest man on earth but if I wanna change how history looks
The first thing ima change is what’s explained in our history…books
Long live Babylon America the great its the M night Shyamalan planet of the Apes
Long live Babylon America the great its the M night Shyamalan planet of the Apes
Here’s the plan it’s no secret raise your hand and give the answer I agree with
Concentration of Indoctrination now we consider him a genius
Don’t let him look into why Malcolm X wanted to separate
Keep him chasing his tail in circles as we continue to legislate
Tell the only ones that’s special are the ones that did something first
Ignore the names of those that change what was broke but now works
You know what’ll really knock ‘em out of competition?!
Tell ‘em their role models are ball players and musicians
Let’s assassinate all they’re leaders and complain they’re all directionless
Police Kill off they’re strong men n women even though they are weaponless
But keep the freaks in the sheets cuz they women are the sexiest
Add dope to their communities break down the family structure
So it’s really sister Vs sister and brother Vs brother
Father out the home is more pressure for the mother
Strong and independent makes her think a pb and j can be jelly without peanut butter
So what makes you think I want a calendar with 28 days
With 28 names
Of 28 slaves
Lead to 28 graves? I think …..We’d rather have our 40 acres…
Categories:
narrate, africa, black african american,
Form:
Free verse
Fun time and flight
A clock from Salvador Dali warped and draped in place
surreally oozing the minutes from birth to demise in a
landscape of our own making of how we narrate life and
the story filled with passion love disappointment transition…
Paintings of words and brushed colours danced song
oiled voices splash meaning fly along our journey for
when bells toll time-pieces chime ‘Chronos’ floats in
remembrance anticipation flights of fancy and escape…
Strange and humorous those days past realigned by
the present one blink and the moment is gone while
the river flows around us never the same as time stands
still and ticks just the same cascades the rapids of life…
Sequential on one hand of the clock times counts and
alludes to one thing leading to other like a winged relic
of reasoned emotion with intuition significance left behind
intervals measured and quantified like delusions of science…
Can ‘Kairos’ the indeterminate yet permanent quality
of en-lived stories and en-storied lives of narration and
lined context fly just the same when epiphanies last forever
when what matters most positions the other hand firmly…
Time journeys meanders along the path both forward and
backward remembering the future and changing the past
that is how both ‘Chronos’ and ‘Kairos’ move neck-breaking
speed’s painful arrest when Dali’s meaning melts us together…
It seems funny how and when times fly or when we placidly reason that
our perspective is moving and not the clock after all
05th October 2016 flying past or is it?
Categories:
narrate, time,
Form:
Free verse
You don’t have to pitch a tent
Nor build a house to stay
When thousands of us wander desperate
Without a home or place to rest,
You own a house with a magic door,
That opens at will without a key or latch.
Well protected from all wicked wight
Safe from all robbers, rowdies, and rodents
No evil spirits, vampires, or ghouls
Dare to disturb it at any rate
It is stronger than all structures extant
Built-in mortar, bricks, or rocks
You are the monarch of a larger empire.
Land and water are under your sway,
Free to enjoy the treasures of the sea,
And feast on the wonders of the land.
You are a companion to the ravenous shark,
Darting spectres through the azure dark
And also monsters that roam the deep
With their uncouth gambols and abrupt leap
You love strolling along the slimy strands
And dive down along with the laughing waves
You bury your eggs on the sandy shores
And guard your progeny from all snares
You are another name for alertness and caution
You make sure that all around is safe and secure,
Before you come out from your rocky shelter
And shrink back at once when dangers lurk
You carry on your back your home and shelter
Built so compact to guard you from all external threat
Oh! Turtle, we deem you blessed under your carapace
But perhaps you may have a different tale to narrate
For all that we see or seem to see
Aren’t they truths far removed from the truth?
Categories:
narrate, animal, home, sea,
Form:
Ode
One spring day,
An angel plays,
A magical play...
She made me sit
On the back of a butterfly...
Huuuh huuuh huuuh
Oye yea yea!!!
Hmm hmm hmm...
I hum...
Hsss hsss hss,
The breeze sings
Hearing our songs
The flowers dance
O, those lovely moves,
dancing angels they are, proved
Put us into a trance
at the very first glance;
Enchanting event,
The angels' dance
Red, blue, orange, purple and yellow
The vibrant colours paint the plain meadow
When my butterfly choses a purple one
The one which is my favourite, I silently grin
Wow!!! Never seen the flowers this close
Oh oh!!! Heavenly hues on their clothes
Couldn't narrate their cherubic colors
"Queens of the earth", certainly they are
Savouring the nectar of the flowers
The Butterfly has got more power
Now she is ready to reach the towers
Hurray!!! The sky is now ours
My soul outreaches the sky
Looks alike, the lows and highs
When I see the Earth and beyond
My wavering mind lands on the ground
When our soul discerns the almighty
Our mind becomes very light
Purpose of life, it perceives
Contentented life it achieves
July -09- 2023
Categories:
narrate, analogy, angel, butterfly, celebration,
Form:
Free verse
All alone in this street
Gazing at the glimpses
In reflection of myself
Within my dormant shadows.
Then I stop amidst the lane
Body drenched in the light
From these nocturnal lamps
Feeling the warmth of the heat.
Then I stare at the moon
Which is same as the other day
Incandescent Cresent and luminous
Reminiscing our good old times.
If these Street lights could speak
They would have so many stories
to narrate,
Stories of laughter and tears
Stories of love and lust
Stories of their tragedic past
Of how they turned into dust and rust.
If these Street lights could ever speak.
Categories:
narrate, angst, solitude, sometimes,
Form:
Free verse
You could run an eternity through shadows,
Run an era in dim labyrinths,
Time might hide you in its palm.
But sooner or later, you will meet the Judge,
Sooner or later, the Divine will find you in descent.
Go and tell the long-path liar,
Bring the news to the rider who revives at midnight,
Speak to the wanderer, the lover of chance, the one who whispers venom,
Tell them the Cutter of fates will end their journey,
Tell them the Supreme Silence will stifle their word.
Well, with goodwill, I share this stellar news,
My head has been sprinkled with the dew of the night sky,
I've crouched down in prayer,
Conversing with the Man from silvery Galilee.
He spoke to me with a voice that sweetly translated eternity,
I believed I heard the orderly step of angels,
He pronounced my name, and my heart stopped in anticipation,
When He said, "Take My path and do what the fates demand!"
Go and unravel the one with the forked tongue,
Carry the news across the starry field to the rider who roams at night,
Demolish the story of the one who walks restlessly,
Tell them the heavenly harvest prepares their fall,
Tell them their time of reckoning will come, under God's wing.
You could flee through countless times and ages,
Get lost in your flight through salted centuries,
No abyss could save you in an endless time.
Sooner or later, we all will align with the Law,
Sooner or later, we will pass before Him.
You can throw the stone and hide your hand,
Work in the darkness of the night against your fellow like a phantom,
But as surely as night unravels at dawn,
All that wanders in dark obscurity will soon come to light.
You can plunge into long races and cling to a shadow,
You can thrash through galaxies and build yourself in silence.
But sooner or later, Someone will tally your days,
Sooner or later, the Great Light will cut your flight short.
Bring this remedy to the one who serves lies,
Bring the word to the rider who roams and undermines at midnight,
Narrate the truth to the one who sees only play in luck,
Tell them the Weaver of Fate has counted their moments,
Tell them the Keeper of Balance will bring them silence.
Categories:
narrate, fantasy,
Form:
Free verse