Best Pearlescent Poems
F l y i n g
a sailing tailwind
in cerulean streams
through creamsicle colored beams -
are wings reflective of turquoise truth
and white purity
of Autumn’s ether -
he aviates
a clear troposphere
riding an unbridled
capricious and combative
boreas
on the cusp
of a new season
with a plumage infusion
of shifting Cape Cod skies
the blue jay mixes hues
with the Northern azure
that fades to shades
of turmoil
to the South and East -
becoming lost
in its milky breadth..
its lilting light..
its dimming depths..
where the edge of rustic rural
meets the sandy ridge of conifers - crooked
twisted and back-bent
from gales
of salt-sprayed sorcery
bold bluster
leading the charge
of a cold sapphire crest
is bedeviled
by the raw
tongue-lashing spin
of a brooding onshore flow
twirling
a brewing brawl -
whirling
in slate pearlescent space -
s w i r l i n g
with the dusky feistiness
of stormy petrels..
mobs of darkening fog
fatten
on summer’s fainty surrender —
leftover tints of tender cornflower
and hints of dainty dove..
there’s a sparkle
in the eye of the storm..
his mischievous black gaze
mirrors
the harsh harbinger
of commotion
clash and change --
his piercing “jay-jay” jabs
the maddening mayhem
of menacing air
with the emerald-needled sharpness
of wind-weary pitch pines
anchoring
the beige of coastal dunes
where his refractive blues
take cover
in colorful contrast
ahead
of the bruising
October nor’easter
Close your eyes
inhale roses-
love-glazed steam
of insatiable thirst;
place your thoughts
upon my heart,
feel my
voice s w i r l i n g
in sync with
periwinkle promises
whilst devouring
unfurled petals
facing ebony skies,
tenderly sketching
silhouettes with
vanilla drops;
for you and I,
we are interwoven
souls through
cosmic t r a n c e…
forevermore.
Tonight when dusk
transcends the
darkest twilight,
I’ll allow these
thoughts to
d r i f t into a magical
meadow where
butterflies b o u n c e
from wavy blades,
reflecting our love
in unspoken shades.
I’ll wait for you,
to relearn what
it means to be
the flesh and
bone of summer…
as this longing
c a s c a d e s
in
sherbet hued
cherry blossoms.
And if
the moon
refuses
to rise,
I’ll sketch your
pearlescent smile
across g r e y i n g
spheres, like the
first
glimpse
of
morning crescent;
unveiling verses-
s p i r a l i n g as mystical
milky-ways within…
emanating candy
coated cologne..
So find me
between
flickering afterglows,
l i s t e n to the
whispering willows,
seek shelter beneath
autumnal rainbows,
amidst m o v i n g seasons,
for two hearts
that beat the same,
would always find
their rhythm amidst
many seas
ruffling with ripples
of aching dreams,
between them~
although virtual
hugs are all we have
to keep our
f r e e z i n g
souls of summer
warm and in sync.
POTD 10th May 2018
A dedication to our departed Mum, Anne Forbes.
And to all the dearly departed Mums who celebrate Mother’s day on the second Sunday in May. We will meet again.
The day came when she had to leave
And we were left behind to grieve
If we could wish her back for a day
A million things we would need to say
As exquisite as painted silk these wings
I soar past clouds ~ with a Soul that sings
Every precious moment by her side
Fighting back tears we hold inside
Knowing she would go away
The Wish ~ was only for a day.
In a whirl of color flying fast
Hastening to a future of Ever last
A Wish granted ~ a butterfly in our midst
An astral sensation like we’ve been kissed
The Sun shines brighter on this glorious day
The whispering breeze that seems to say
Pearlescent petals in the air
Shimmering sun beams everywhere
I’m always here ~ I watch you all
And comfort you if you falter or fall
So dry your tears ~ no need to grieve
My tangible form ~ you must believe
I never left ~ I love you still
To Eternity’s end ~ I always will
On a whispering wind that gently sighs
I fly like a butterfly ~ there are no goodbyes
POTD 10th May 2018
Video Clip:
"On The Wings Of A Butterfly" by Jimmy Scott.
Calm is the silt beneath the waves
The measured heartbeat of the brave
It is the fragile petal born
From gardens of pernicious thorns
A velvety cadence under
The jagged footfalls of thunder
The pearlescent aura you breathe
From centers of calamity
Calm is elusive murmurs heard
Where sharp cacophony is stirred
Into harsh, unrelenting drums
As order wavers and succumbs
When my soul, snagged in turmoil
Stretches towards a turquoise soil
And life's timing lands out of reach
You'll find me on a forlorn beach
1/15/22
C form - Couplet contest
Sponsor: Constance La France
The syllable count was confirmed on howmanysyllables.com
I hope you would still remember me as we were,
every time you see pristine
passing pomegranate hues of the horizon.
When clouds smear our unspoken love
in inexplicable figurines,
of those simple moments we
reignited beneath our own twilight,
reliving our dreams in
remaining rosy dialects of romantic recollections,
as I have a confession to make
beneath this cluttering of chaos.
I wasn’t ready to let you nor our late night conversations go,
After all these years, all my heart ever desires,
is for you to see the broken empire
behind these weary eyes.
I have long been a gift of solitude and sorrow,
But as I’ve let you go, my hopes swayed a lilac
feathered goodbye,
Although you’ll never know how a simple hey,
once upon a time, saved my life,
and embellished my universe with pearlescent
moonstones and amethysts.
Yet I still question you, in rustic rhymes you can’t comprehend,
Have you forgotten how to pronounce my name?
is it because your heart doesn’t feel the same?
Have your desires now become tame?
As you walk away, why am I the one to take the blame?
Is our love now lost in history?
Is that why you’ve left me in so much mystery?
In your absence the mind battles against violence.
All is mute in a void of meaningless silence.
Did you forget to love me today?
Is this the price I have to pay?
Just for you to say that you’ll love me
again in the same way, someday.
Soon, sunlight will yawn on the edge of dawn
and I'll welcome the warmth of his morning rays,
but never could I liken them to the great love born
when I feel your sensuous touch that sets me ablaze.
Impatiently, I wait while my heart is yearning
for daylight's journey to cast shadows over me.
Restlessly, I watch the hands of the clock turning
until the hour when the sun surrenders into the sea.
When skies are awash with an amber glow
I become eager to touch the breast of twilight.
Watching as grains of sand in the hourglass flow,
knowing when comes the moon, dreams take flight.
A pearlescent gem, she lulls me to sleep
when gracefully ascending upon her throne.
It's then my reverie descends in slumber deep,
and ardor's silken threads are passionately sewn.
With our hearts ignited by a stellar flare,
we circled the moon on diaphanous wings.
In Luna's lair we made love with savoir-faire
while starlight dreams caressed my heartstrings.
It's no wonder impatience is mounting
before the moon rises to her zenith height.
Hours move much too slowly as I'm counting
the hours when I can touch the breast of twilight.
2022 Poetry Marathon - Mile 22 Contest
Sponsored by Mark Toney
Originally posted on 12/23/2019
POTW 22rd April 2018
To right the wrongs of love no flawless gauge exists
Though visions unfulfilled can leave one bereft
With tears of remorse for the ones who didn’t show
Or lamenting the ones who came and left
Sparkly wings donned we cruise the starry skies
Crooning songs of love to the silvery moon
Mourning its presence being ~ Too late? ~ Too soon?
Grieving for the ‘dish’ who ran away with the ‘spoon’
Rewrite your song ~ Compose a new melody
Peek through those shades of pearlescent pink
Discard the restraints of unrequited love
Bask in loves splendor ~ lest it goes in a blink
Feel a whisper of the breeze ~ on those thundering seas
The quest starts right here on this night crystal clear
That rusty anchor raise ~ you’ve lingered too long
It’s your ship to control ~ Reclaim the power to steer
I trust you like the music video clip by Australian singer John Paul Young. Still loving the sound of the Disco 80’s
POTW 22rd April 2018
clouds like sheep
grazing in the blue
scatter on the breeze
How marvelous was the first week of March in my state. The temperatures exceeded my hopeful expectations. If the old proverb is true, perhaps this month will go out with a lion’s roar, for I’m pretty sure it came in with the bleat of a lamb! Daylight Saving time also has arrived along with St. Patrick’s Day and the wearing of the green, and Easter and our Mother’s Day will follow. The day I most look forward to, however, is that day which turns my front yard into a bright fiesta. Right around the end of week one or two of April, my ornamental pear and plum trees always undergo their annual transformation.
pear tree’s white petals
pearlescent in the sun . . .
plum tree’s blush
Yes, each April it never fails to amaze me: nature’s orderly sequence of events which so beautifully welcome spring’s warmth. Birds whose nests are so well-hidden in each tree’s branches will decorate my yard with their flashes of color as they soar to the sky and then flit among the leaves of their new-found home. I enjoy catching glimpses of the swallows’ shiny dark wings and the red of the robin and of the occasional cardinal. Even more special are sudden glimpses of bluebirds and hummingbirds that I rarely get to see! These sightings so excite me!
lion or lamb -
spring turns me into
an April fool
March 21, 2021
for the Springtime Haibun Contest Poetry Contest of M. L. Kiser
Now for Brian Strand's 'ALL YOURS (Apr 12)' Poetry Contest
Music and romance are camarilla comrades,
just like poems are my shield and arrows.
But not all lullabies of lovers,
harmonise like a street choir of angels.
If love resembles the weather,
then poetry is like a snowflake.
Its fragile abstract nature
can betray the innocence of a poetic heart -
serenading in slaughtered symphonies of silence.
When lust burns in assailable impurity,
love suffers in small doses,
performing a masquerade concealing truthful tones.
So what is the purpose of poetry if it offers no remedy?
Whispering winds form hailstorms in my mind,
wondering if there is a sanctuary
for lonely spirits suffering as seasonally sad souls.
In the midst of melancholic misfortune,
I wish to drown in tepid tides of holy water,
because fate is frozen in winter wanderlust.
Heartache taught me how to be a poet,
each scar inflicted from profound lies and cries.
But what is the purpose of poetry if there is no muse?
In the perception of imagination,
I search for the one
who left frozen tears on my pillowcase.
But her eyes see celestite waves kissing
ecru shorelines under blue pearlescent skies,
blessed with the radiance of saffron sunshine,
in the heavenly harmony of relaxing music.
So, I wonder why she resides in ebony emotions,
refusing to dance, lost in lyrical lament.
Some spirits evolve into envious entities,
but mine just misses the rose window to her soul.
When wine dark skies glare in misery and gloom,
composing ashen clouds to pour in plentiful rain,
I feel the chills of an Antarctic iced leaf on an ice covered lake,
but maintain an evergreen glow,
hoping to forever illuminate like cathartic moonlight -
reflecting upon her bronze fibers.
Opposites attract like fireflies in the night.
I am the bridge and you are the chorus.
so I follow footprints in the snow,
under the guidance of devotary sincere stars.
In the hope we will make melodies at midnight -
merging into rivers of unassailable purity
And If I can't be a poet, then I'll become a poem.
I cannot predict how my ink will spill,
so will you guide each verse to give it a purpose,
breathing my words into life?
Will you love me more than poetry?
Kissing all those diamond promises
into my rhinestone heart -
or will you massacre the music,
abandoning me like an unfinished symphony.
O, take me there, where mystical realms of starlight glisten
Pearlescent tapestries, indulgent in ethereal aura of Venus,
Emboldening me in celestial embrace, swept in your love,
As you ignite embers of passion, setting afire ardent souls;
When elatedly I speak, to quest amorous, of flirtatious eyes,
Greeting your smile, charmed in radiance of moonlit skies,
Humming rhythms esoteric, not heard, in quite some time,
Laudatory of fervid senses, blooming in tempest of desires.
There, as you recite preamble to our life, extolling paradise,
Together we rejoice, purity of joy, in blessings of Aphrodite,
Longing heavenly garden of Eden, themes amatory entice,
Scripting blissful allegory of love, verses enamored write.
Listen my dear, as love strums music, lauding a sacred bond~
O, sweet melodies, emanating from depths of our hearts,
Echoing memories of yesteryears, fondly treasured for long,
Tolling hymns affectionate, revered in life’s beloved song.
Thrum now dear, tunes intimate, hearts and minds surmise,
Exploring Milky Way, amidst purple dream-scapes of nebulae;
Take me to mythical gift of life, lascivious in moon’s delight,
O, take me to Xanadu, where love is the life’s ultimate prize.
I woke up to the soft
marigold melodies
of whistling waves,
reverberating in
turquoise tunes,
stirring the sleeping
sunrise within my soul,
while the hermit crabs,
soaked in salty sand,
creep along the ivory
shores at a slow pace,
too eager to find a
faulty ray from my
honeyed horizon.
Yet I refused to allow
the crawling crustaceans
to obscure the serene scenes
unfolding in shades
of teal zeal beneath
azure spheres,
for I am the
metaphorical mermaid,
weaving aquatic anthems,
awaiting the crystalline
calling from the warm
arms of an oceanic heart.
I remember walking
on colorful clouds,
tiptoeing my way to
the psychedelic gates
of seraphic realms,
oblivious to the
hibiscus haven thriving
in tropical fruitfulness.
Perhaps the flavors
of twilight cocktails
were blended with
trippy ingredients,
untying ribboned skies
to unveil a
kaleidoscopic staircase
to untouched bliss,
where no breathing
footprints can blemish
the pearlescent purity
of an exotic paradise.
There, in the rhyme-less
roots of palm trees,
you’ll find my inked dreams,
kissing the cinnamon sun,
unfurling herbs of
seasoned sanguinity,
a singing siesta
soothing ruffled crests
rippling with topaz tranquility
along celestial currents.
This is me turning perfumed
pages of my grounded reality;
a picturesque painting
sketched in the
amethyst arena of
my sixth chakra,
and I will forever remain
in this island of romanticism,
collecting conch shells,
writing poetry with
evergreen stems,
and floating weed,
a lyrical hideaway,
without scarred flowers
envious of the sapphires
I knit in ceremonial silence.
If tomorrow, there is
no sailing catamaran
to steer your lusterless shadows,
here upon porcelain dunes,
forgive my need to
strive in sweet seclusion,
I am no longer strayed
on ruthless routes that
lack emerald empathy
and camellia compassion.
To my enemies,
cloaked in t w i n k l i n g topaz~
I’ve become immune
to your illusive m a n t r a s,
recited in roseate refrains.
I’ve learned to see
the vermilion
f l o a t i n g
between venomous
pigments of
psychedelic sunsets
For life is a whirlpool
of uncertainties
slithering through
l o o p h o l e s of adversities
We waltz through
h i g h s and l o w s
while masked foes
orchestrate a
a circus embellished
in emerald s p r i n g s
Yet, I f o r g i v e
your i g n o r a n t skies,
unable to grasp
the vision of loyalty
You’ve long been
preaching in
verses of lyrical lies,
soaring above
catastrophic canopies~
draped with my
sentimental s i g h s
this conscience remains
constantly crippled
by the ecstasy of
poisonous promises~
served from
diamond chalices
once upon
a blood m o o n
There’s still
a pearlescent
shore for faithless
footprints in the
island of h e a l i n g
in the marine bed
of softness
that f l o w s
beneath seething seas,
there I’ll sculpt a
lagoon of
p r a y e r s across
fire corals that
f l i c k e r
in tints of
lethal lime green
As I allow aquatic
pearl ruffles to ripple
through weary waves,
they become the
sacred v e s s e l
that unveils
hyacinth stars,
when your heart is
as dark as the
eclipsed moonflowers
Tonight, I’ll rewrite
the poems I’ve woven
from golden arrows
that assassinated
the alliterative tranquility
in sinister silence
within my inner psyche
In the journey of revival
I’ve mastered the art
of wearing pain
like a crown of
thistles and thorns
I’ll forgive you
amidst unspoken apologies,
and e r a s e the
a c h i n g colors
within greying rainbows,
behind your
soulless eyes.
For, I can feel the
insecurities r u s h i n g
through those veins~
longing for an empathetic
empire that
serves you
k i n d n e s s
So take these metaphors,
make them yours,
ink them across
your s u n l e s s canvas,
and r i s e beyond the
demons that lurk
as shadows within
your a r t l e s s heart.
May the light of twilight,
correct your insincere intentions.
I gaze beyond
the silver winged
heart of
twinkling twilight,
lost within metaphors
in warm cashmere
bows of midnight.
Whilst lava lamps
for lost souls
f l i c k e r across
a maze of melancholy,
ghosts of past whispered
surreal sagas through
subtle mists~
silky snow that
d r i z z l e s
in the shape of crescent,
slowly trails
my moon-kissed skin.
If only the stars
of scarred silence
spoke the voiceless
truth raised from
the arms of trauma~
not every glowing
ray is destined
to be your wish
come true,
I was sculptured
in hailstones
of burnt ice,
and my ivory nails
drowned in the color
of your fire blood.
I am the throned
mistress of massacres,
a walking black storm,
that strikes onyx lightning
upon pearlescent
roads to hyacinth healing.
For everything
I touched
became frost,
when heavy clouds bled
to paint the skyscape
in citrine powder.
Perhaps, there is
no need of stretching
your fingers in gratitude,
as it shall
soon abandon
every lucky charm,
like the death of poetry
within inked
pages of
an accidental poet.
Yet, I still see
the unwritten
verses in your dewy eyes~
unsung
poetic confessions,
written in
diamond and rust;
“you’re the poison
I’m willing to take”
Like how romeo
died in the name of
a forsaken tale
told by the infatuated
soul of his Juliet~
Cupid’s bow still
is adorned with her
love-struck tears
that emanate
unshed truth.
So let, the alchemy
of dreams concoct,
a perfumed potion
from black
quartz rain,
to ease this caricature
lifetime of memories~
chasing sonnets
contrived in sorcery,
to seize the stories
of
misplaced prophecies.
whilst hope is flying
on paper wings
of a dark
horse carousel,
where my past self
was crystal-gazing,
to see the crown
carved from rhinestones
of shattered glasses,
piercing through
my honey mane.
But, this immortal
heart will remain
in a museum of
Monet’s garden,
where sorrowful
serenades linger
above thornless roses.
For I am heaven
and hell for you,
in everlasting awakenings
transcribed in turquoise
topaz till tomorrow…
Here are butterflies that skip
Dull steps of metamorphosis
No isolation in coocoons
No gorging grubs like fat balloons
Pure genesis on snow kissed flowers
Comes with no imperiled hours
Their slow, eternal life begun
Beneath a pink pearlescent sun
Reflecting tints from rainbows born
With pastel lights of endless dawn
Transcend through fabled time and myth
To form the rings of Saturn's mist.
A Kaleidoscope of Butterflies
Contest Judged: 5/18/2016 5:58:00 AM
Sponsored by: Julia Ward
N/A’d
The east began blushing behind the trees
While the moon hung over the lea
And the velvet of night turned to sapphire hue
Like the blue of a newborn sea.
No breeze cared to move the whispering leaves
But they whispered themselves alone
And the first rays of sun kissed the cool of the morn
Before mounting the aerial throne.
The dew-spangled grass glittered pure and unspoilt
As if hundreds of diamonds were strewn,
Or like dozens of tears had been carefully dropped
From the pearlescent eyes of the moon.
Blue shadows hung shyly beneath the boughs
Of the emerald, sylvan-king;
The ancient pine swayed and held his court
With the swallows on the wing.
With a glorious, final shout of gold
The sun was now enthroned
While the world rejoiced like a sinner saved
That the night's dark was atoned.