Best Narrates Poems
Nearly everyday, the
nascency of new lives
never fails to inspire;
Nature's numinous blush
narrates an old story -
Nightingale or nacre,
noble designs of God.
05/01/2017
Upon her last sighs, she narrates cosmic
sagas flowing within poetic veins.
She still remembers
those idyllic evenings,
engrossed in raining confessions,
influenced by her shipwrecked heart,
expressing scarlet
sentiments that sail in silence,
across unruffled ink-stained waves,
amidst the endless oceans between
their untouched silhouettes.
Her every desire to reunite and
cast away midnight blues,
float within perfumed love notes
written by the silky seashore,
placed in crystalline bottles
of timeless lyrics,
that shall be carried through
estuaries that lead her
to his sacred island
with everlasting roses~
where pearlized shells reflect
saline left as tropical memories
of tomorrow with him by
her sun-kissed innocence.
I could hear my own heart beating
So strong the rhythm grew
It echoes like thunder
as it tells me the story of you.
You surround yourself in mystery
You've been hurt so many times
Falling with all you are
For some scoundrel's nursery rhymes .
He has taken all he wanted
Then discarded you aside
He made you feel so worthless
You were all torn up inside.
All the love and trust you gave
Was thrown back in your face
So you hide away your feelings
In a very secret place .
Now its my turn to hold you
My arms around your waist
Swaying to the music
As wary lips I taste .
We talk and walk for hours
The days soon turn to weeks
Love and its healing powers
Return the colour to your cheeks .
The lips that were so wary
Are now synchronised with mine
The poetry of romance
Replacing unfeeling nursery rhyme .
You put aside the pain of betrayal
Once more the passion burns
and with each day that passes
A little more of you returns .
I am turning over the pages
Every hour I learn something new
As my heart narrates the story
and reveals the mystery of you.
In the middle of the night, you came, oh, death,
Wishing my soul to harvest
Vehemently, I refused to surrender it to you
Fact, that made you so angry.
You said your divine right was to claim it
But still, your request I turned down
It was then that you thought it reasonable to incapacitate me
For your mission sooner to carry out.
The first step you took was my voice to silence
The second was my legs to immobilize
Thus mute and paralyzed, you fancied, I couldn't resist
So your prize would quickly be obtained.
For five days, in total muteness and bedridden, I remained
Yet, a gallant fight I put up to escape your embrace
But all my efforts in vain appeared to be
As the gates of eternity, I could gaze.
Late on the fifth day, a doctor of great character and skill,
He decided to empty the Hematoma formed next to my brain
Thus, a foot-long Craniotomy performed with great care
Hoping you, oh, death, to chase away.
Although now, slowly, I am recovering
Anticipating a few more years of life to enjoy,
I know very well in my heart, oh death,
That we together would be one blessed day!
© Demetrios Trifiatis
30 November 2021
* This is a biographical poem that narrates the events that took
place between the twelfth day of October and the first day of
November in the hospital!
One-liner
of doom...
"I'm leaving you"
Mercy!
The poor fellow
must've died
a thousand deaths
right then...
"Whack! Whack! Whack!"
goes an axe
straight through
his confused heart.
Ouch!
A devastating impact.
Numb to the bone
as he stands,
directly facing her,
in arrested astonishment;
listening...
as she narrates
the end
of everything.
Too numb
to utter so much as
a word.
He stands there
as if
frozen in time,
growing...
increasingly deaf
with disbelief;
too stunned
to plead...
"Baby, please, don't do this!"
Or cry out
an anguished "Now, wait a minute!"
On her breath,
the fetid stench of death;
d e a t h
of gargantuan dreams
dreamt together.
Their panorama
of bright tomorrows
suddenly look
blacker than charcoal.
He listens
as she's speaking
but doesn't comprehend
the words
forking into him
like flashes of lightning.
Hopelessly lost in
"How did it come to this?"
A sucker-punch
that landed
with speed so blinding
he couldn't see it!
Unbearable pain
that writes itself
across his crimson face
His defeated spirit,
a bark of a tree
withstanding blows
from an axe.
Twilight downs the sun as dreams appear on the screen of sleep
Slips into the subconscious realm and trips a few fuses in slumber
Adapts and clears clutter and narrates and alters the story in kind
Strips and clips a mind full of sentience like an ad-blocking app
When dreams slip into a magical edition it proofreads my soul
In magic Morpheus tenders to soft renditions and rehearses
A new dawn for sanity’s sake and rearranges bedlam in silence
Ties new meaning to fake news and spins alignments afresh
Compounds and rearranges while the curtain slowly descends
A dress rehearsal in night gown patiently waits for the curtain
A sacred orange globe dances with ripples dissected by clouds
Ultramarine parades on the fading horizon of tangerine canvas
As the gatekeeper confers with clairvoyants and hobbling goblins
The mermaids charter the voyage with sea gulls and dolphin as they
Tie holy knots onto the tapestry of fabrication and spirited truths
Sometimes my aspirations and recollections call for clean slates
When charcoal rules anthracite waves draped in sombre veils
Or polychrome splashes beg to hold on to the palette forever
Sleep brushes over karma and vagaries and tames with a stroke
Of restful fortune in infinite renditions of what the future might hold
A life line appears on the horizon anchoring a courageous flare
Regardless of whether my journey explores a secret underworld
Or ships critique onto the blatantly obvious faults in the vessel
Poseidon pumps up the raft as tears and regrets rock the boat
Blows caution to the wind and advises to hold on for dear life
Neptune challenges his counterpart and weighs for good measure
Yet Atlantis refuses to sink and Nirvana sweeps the ocean’s floor
Phoenix gathers soaked ashes while jetsam jumps into the current
When the night parades its blessing the sun resets a new dawn
The moon watches over assorted memories baggage and hope
19th April 2020
Dear Jan Allison.
Jasmine aroma in her nice and pithy poems
Able poetess has the skills and qualifications to write well poems
Narrates wonderful words, sweet good comments, and beautiful stories
Darling Afghan grandmother, your weary hands narrates a somber tale
Your bowed head discloses your day by day yearning ail
You have masked your happiness deep under your time-honored veil
Oblivious-- that your offspring’s will follow your footprints-- and abide by this wretched
trail.
Anosha Zereh
I REMEMBER
I remember how the branches of the gulmohar tree,
Moved hastily during the time of wet seasons of the year
The soft orange flowers fell like snow on the ground
Giving a picture of a new sunset, as if the sun rose from the ground
The tree stood high bearing all the harshness of the weather giving shelter to those
Under him,
It was in front of the place where I grew up, seeing the never ending beauty of it
I admired it every day and in all seasons, but the beauty would never fade away.
The dripping of water dip by dip from the leaves, as if the pearls from an oysters mouth,
As if the dew of the morning, fresh and new.
The branches spreading all over, some to my place even, shedding its orange petals all over,
I don’t remember how many flowers I fetched from the tree but I still remember the gulmohar tree,
The tree grew higher every time, having more orange petals over it and its beauty became more refined.
The hustling and buzzing sound of the leaves when the wind blew, felt sometimes as if the tree,
Now has a voice of its own, and it narrates proudly about its own majestic beauty.
Some sparrows and parrots had their nest over it, and the chirping sound of the birds added a jingle to the tree.
The tree reminds me still, of my childhood days, playing around it, is one of the best memories I have,
The tree is a witness of the generations, it saw what passed by, and will be seeing the future.
The gulmohar tree has still got the deep orange colour and a soft sweet smell which it once had,
Smelling it would bring me memories back.
It is still there, often I pass by it, and still I take the orange flowers back
I still remember the gulmohar tree………………………
Dried sand eclipsed over the Season’s fall,
sullen rhyme sings singer-birds over scale,
the storm-dance sprays dust against broken wall,
To the hat-worn folks, sorrowed, narrates tale;
Done seasonal harvest with plaint-dried tears,
With diseased cattle shrunken skin to ribs,
With cracked ground, hungry sad visage of fears,
With wasted limbs and pot-bellied in cribs.
keenly begs graceful charity for age,
Promising bags, from next seasons harvest,
To plough the ground below the lowered wage,
And to lock starving kids to empty breast.
Thus rewording he sows the seeds and play,
Hoping golden grain’s harvest from his clay.
©Anees Rahman
A lot of ways to disguise
Beautiful dresses conceals ugliness
Makes us feel confident
Happy and proud
Arts reveals the beauty of the surroundings
Concealing the destruction of man to the nature
Adds pleasure to life
Music, the melodies from heaven
Concealing the sound pollution of the surroundings
Beautifies life
And reveals the inner beauty of man
Literature
Praises or criticizes
Find the meanings of life
And the inner self of man
And the real state of nature
Speeches from the mouth can be everything
It narrates, it speaks out, it advises, it praises
Or it cheats, it exaggerates, it slanders
We may enjoy disguising for the time being
But a disguise may not be successful sometimes
As our hearts and wisdom know everything
And we'll carry the guilts to the last destiny
Mentoring a talent, gifted and mature, way beyond her years
Anchoring a show, on television, serenely she appears.
Narrates the story of Mirabai, I sadly missed the premier
Audio cassettes get released, by an accomplished career.
So very beautiful, yet her soul, is so crystal clear
I feel incompetent to counsel her, if I should be sincere.
Painstaking and meticulous, she wants to be number one
Radiating eyes with a determined look, even while she’s having fun.
Afraid I am that in her quest, not to be undone
Sashay away would she, towards the starting gun?
Aside would she cast her gift away; weighing a thousand ton?
Dream her dream; I hope she does, and reach out for the sun.
Present, but not independent,
Of societal flows, expectations,
Not understanding sisterhood,
Out with reachability and love.
Together with a voice each,
But screeching sometimes,
In a soft note or look away,
Fondling community law.
Hard for me, but it’s ok,
As we all exist existentially,
Relationship are assumed,
Between you and punter.
Our fine speech narrates,
Our posture, our identity,
With the joy of free will,
Carting societal standards.
Not our families or friends,
Nor TV, teachers or crooks,
But our lives are formed,
Only by our own voices.
The Purpose Of Life
Some say that doubt among many truth’s convictions relieves the questions
relives narrates unfolds the thinking understanding cogitating human being
Too much like cogs in wheels of life some thus respond and posit that its
enterprise oozes soothes from a sense of feeling warmth’s emotion’s intuition
‘Its action good deeds and virtue’ shout philosophers from roof tops root tops
crowned winged elegance of contemplation clothed in ivory towers
Or is it ‘Science’ ‘God’ ‘The Revolution’ ‘A Path Of Least Resistance’ ‘Trying Harder’
‘Drugged Insistence’ ‘Evolution Fit and Fatter’ or ‘Sex’ and ‘Happiness’ Hottest Guns’
A panoply of tapestry and fabricated fabric’s fragrant fragmentation to synthesize
pragmatic hedonism ‘I Want It All And Now’ approaching nearing paradise
The apple of our eyes in cycling spiral’s procreation or might there be no sense or
meaning just simple free and undirected flow of something unbeknown to any kind
Tumbling in the halo while sunshine radiates in love compassion kindness seems a good
design on meaning my purpose aimed at understanding what its all about before I die
01st November 2016
Denouement
The plot thickens broadens in plastered confused juxtapositions
over time there and then weaves tapestries lost unfound caught
Viscous tears dried out shed rivers searching oases oceans of love
squeeze suffering hatred solid misconceptions scripted resolve
Crocheted dreams unsnarled in disguise colour rainbows stain-bows
stain blows and arrows offer inkblots from coiled council reconcile
Waters cascades cataclysmic beginnings alleviate alluvion’s weight
skirmish tease entice droplets of truths splashing change alteration
Naïve native losses childish unadulterated tangential torrents unfold
allude inundate delude adulthoods’ illusions commence from afresh
Under the bridges of ricocheted echoes trickle drops from Styx to
Ganges feed and contend with the seagulls and vultures of life
The story line concocts and conceives tell retells and remembers
the past as it blends narrates a misty final initiation’s webbed spray
Resolute resolution wets the gills washes clouds spins them around
until springs guzzle project thoughtful narration to entangle once more
Denouement Renewal De-new-ment confer contain depositions repositioned
as some tangling wisdom posits one swims in the same ocean never again
09th August 2016
Originally entered for contest 'Denouement' judged 24th August 2016