Best Orphean Poems
Villanelle: Kill not Mad Poets the Soul-Blood of Mankind
for Emmanuel MACRON
Kill not mad poets the soul-blood of mankind
Better kill gods teacher-preachers saviours
Their words stretch galactic aeons of the mind
Who kills trills of the fine feathered chirping kind
Never clapping thunder smother lonely warblers
Kill not mad poets the soul-blood of mankind
The Merle Noir maddens the Warbler Subalpine
Will not the Woodchat Strike tease Yellow Hammers
Their words stretch galactic aeons of the mind
aiOoo loie loieC screEch screEch tWine tWine
dingk dingk twingK clUt clUt aiOoo sRoothers
Kill not mad poets the soul-blood of mankind
Who but raving politicos seek to bind
Mad poets lyrical fill hungry beggars
Their words stretch galactic aeons of the mind
Who recalls greed-fed conquests all anodyne
Blissful mad morning trills drill Orphean Warblers
Kill not mad poets the soul-blood of mankind
Their words stretch galactic aeons of the mind
© T. Wignesan - Paris, 2017
Categories:
orphean, bird, hope, inspirational, muse,
Form:
Villanelle
Whatever magic elixir did you add to my drink?
That the thrill of you in my sacred soul never shrinks?
Minutes of decades ago bubble and laugh so happily in my veins.
I close these deep brown eyes, thinking of you, like the finest of
champagnes.
I find myself sacredly dancing in your Orphean sexy arms.
My Eurydice heart joyous still by your Thessaloniki-charms.
Dimensions of my love for you seem to forever grow.
Tonight, to saunter under the Blue Moon's magic show!
We are the children of God's time and tides.
And in our daughter's eyes I see our DNA, through eternity, doth shine!
Love,
Panagiota
11-1-2020
* The blue moon was last night. 10/31/2020*
Categories:
orphean, daughter, imagery, love,
Form:
Couplet
do not go the orphean way,
he thinks, friends meet as strangers
on road, was the absolute absence able
to find an air hole ? the era of truth
dawns too late; calls the windswept
moon as a witness,
the shuddering will distill,
like purple fears from the sieve
of panic and crumbs of blue will fall,
concordia finds a new meaning of
falsehood, stoops, i would say, for
a megacreation,
the baby was found on a garbage
dump in the maddening silence
of protests, the vegans are not going too far,
powerless like a cadaver you do not
want to open the eyes from
a bandaged face
SATISH VERMA
Categories:
orphean, art
Form:
The colour has no caste no religion
Just fetterless as a crowned pigeon,
The sun never marks any division
What's red, green, black or saffron.
All the colour is a single entity,
Like the author's artistic creativity;
And upon the asleep city
The moon mirrors itself - the beauty.
The colour is a life of how to live-
Taking a role of a new leaf,
It is a sugarcoated rose you sip
How orphean! Do believe.
Money is not a verb to the colour
That a poet knows very well:
A girl of not going to parlour
She is pretty still, at cottage dwell.
Categories:
orphean, blessing, color, dedication, flower,
Form:
Rhyme