Best Phasing Poems
the sky resonates
with what’s written in the silk of stars,
in pulse-burned pensiveness,
penned in poignancy,
personifying pain
with yellow-gold dust,
where lament liquefies and softens
into an ethereal lake,
chronicling it with surging blue sparks ~
an evening elixir, enveloped
in confetti cravings…
this l o v e knows not
the ingredients of
ephemeral effervescence,
as the thriving tip of twilight
manifests the magic of want,
whilst I tremble,
engrossed in the thought
of moon-flame touch,
brimming,
brewing,
breathing
across cups of catharsis,
concocted with caffeinated calmness ~
aligning the inner innocence
still longing in loneliness,
amidst seated strangers
lost in their own appetizing lyrics,
clothed in cold cobalt colors,
unaware of the emptiness
they feed their mindless muse
from superficial spoons
filled with smoke and silence ~
like scattered illusions,
illustrated with surreal ink…
what if I hold onto forever fallacies
hiding within?
would I be promised
a peaceful plate of patience
beneath ineffable iridescence ~
for I’ve feverishly struggled
to rephrase the verdicts behind
faces phasing in the haze of life,
sipping sorrow
as if it were mocha ~
balmy, bittersweet,
burning in sync with my
Swarovski crescent crooning
lullabies to diamonds dancing
in infinite nebulae,
carrying secrets the table holds,
served in sincere oblivion…
and I am still learning and healing
the soul’s breaking lines,
to leave lovelorn reveries
without losing the light of lucidity,
letting go of their narrow narrative
of me and my ache ~
of us and our heat,
as even the routined routes
could not erase what’s
handwritten in a heart made heavy…
so wait not for the
rise of supernova sanguinity ~
I am not the warmth of woven woes.
I am a charismatic chameleon,
~ c o m p l e x ~ cautious ~
catching comet-notes,
camouflaged in melancholic versions
of humankind,
hiding vulnerability
within firm flares of vivid vibrations…
O beloved night,
on this terrace, I devour, not alone,
but evermore lonely,
i m m e r s e d
in the forlorn frequency
of stellar fire…
If sky is a sea of
fallen flowers
and dusty diamonds
glazed in red,
I’ll unfurl the
saffron sun within,
stretching sandalwood
arms of serenity,
upon gardens of
glistening grief,
with healing herbs
and soothing spices,
from greener grass
of life amidst sorrow.
For I can
move mountains
and secure trees,
to a therapeutic realm
where perfumed
petals never wilt.
While kindness I sow
shall sprout in hues
of warm honey and
raspberry dreams.
I am an
unshakable rose,
blooming from
roots of ruins,
facing fiery fangs of
the phasing tulip moon
above wildfires
of whirling woes.
This musky
spirit is timeless,
resembling the
flaming heart of
an untamable phoenix.
My silence soars
beyond mourning wolves;
ice blue eyes
of fleeting seasons.
And you, twin-star~
my sister I cannot
breathe without,
will forever be the reason,
I’ll wear this amethyst
sequined armor,
to sail through
ripples of rage,
like a floating candle
amidst eclipsed tides,
that shifts and sparkles,
while flickering eucalyptus elixir~
upon scentless tea lights.
So if tomorrow, clouds
above your
sleepless sanctuary
swing with poisoned rain,
to drizzle splinters upon
your bed of melancholy,
remember, I’ll find my way
to your unrhymed spheres,
steal perfectly metered
syllables of hope,
from the elysian above,
that sprinkles
champagne lunar-beams,
and I’ll weave
a curative poem
beneath the ink-less
canvas of acrylic dirt,
to calm your
midnight musings with
mellifluous metaphors.
I’m looking to the sun searching for life’s answer
A truth starts to dawn, it could just feed me cancer
Still the moon’s mostly harmless, phasing away the night
Has a dark side too, that stays hidden in full light?
I know there’s darkness
upon my shoulder
I miss old flames
that used to smoulder
I feel sweat pour
and growing colder
I ache and shiver
under beads of solder
As for those shiny stars, twinkling in heavens high
Some are eons dead, still pulsing a white lie?
Our galaxy hoards them as supermassive treasure
Stuffed inside a black hole, that gorges at leisure
I won’t go nova
perhaps bipolar
I may lose my head
like a sniped soldier
I could love a god
not his mass controller
I will confess
the herd feels older
The cosmos gets younger the further out I look
Thirteen billion years of light, our connection took
On a large scale of nothing is how my mind thinks
The universe keeps growing, as its lifespan shrinks
I drag granite
upon a roller
I put my chisel
into the boulder
I sculpt an angel
but haven’t told her
she’s not my soul
just its beholder
My angel brings comfort, if not flattery
Helps to keep me grounded, in idolatry
If I was a god, my first commandment would be
Worship all those you love, and put them before me
By
David Kavanagh
Snowflakes adorn blurry morn, gently, gently trickling down
As salted streets are turning brown across this weary town
While tilting trees blow wheeze of breeze in throe of snow
In aerial dance of wintry woe, as tips of twigs sun rays glow.
Driving slowly, traffic is moving, blinkers brightly turning on
As somber day, bearing yawn, is awakening bleak and drawn
When kids thrilled, frolic and build, a snowman on their lawn
Celebrating school closings on this messy, dampened dawn.
Peering scenes tinted gold, hushed romantic gazes behold
Fixating on meadows bold, where pristine paintings unfold
Delighting in the glowing blaze that brightens daze of malaise
Appealing to zeal of morning, blushing haze in emergent rays.
A deer ambles besides her fawn, exiting her quiet hideout
Curious to scout how leisurely strollers are sauntering about,
Ruminating sunshine while darkened clouds are phasing out
As bluing skies, sparkle eyes, illuminating zest of astral clout.
Beyond foothills, tall cliffs sigh, scintillating in sapphire sky
When far from here, climbing up high, cerulean motifs vie
As cobalt imprints horizons amplify, where birds merrily fly
Announcing to the receding storm: it’s time to say goodbye.
When daylight quivers on melting mound of thawing ground
Amidst whispers swirling around, muffled wind’s hissing sound;
Golden glints thrill, glistening hill, tinting the landscapes blue
Refracting puddles in ornate view of glinted beams’ opal hue.
November 16, 2020
Poem of the day on November 18, 2020
Placed 1st: In rhymes sublime poetry contest--by Joseph May
I'm phasing in a recurring monochrome dream,
velvet whispers lead me to a sonorous stream,
translucent visions fall as vibrating showers,
retracing footsteps on trampled golden flowers.
Fragrant lullabies guide me on bronze ferns,
a flamboyant willow guards the deserted turns.
On a dilapidated porch I pick dry hazel leaves,
under pungent moss, the tattered garden grieves.
A wavy shadow moves behind heavy sepia curtain,
why I stand in an unknown place, I feel uncertain.
I ascend the staircase of my fears to a bolted door,
a withered rosette of memories remains on the floor,
beyond the entrance are mementos of a family in past,
a photograph fading those faces but smiles would last.
A crystal chandelier sings of days lost in aged time,
strange that I find familiarity in the echoing chime.
My pictures on the impervious roof in white appear,
bewildered I run to the frozen window dripping fear.
Oh this mind is a decaying house I visit in reprise,
only to chase shapes of love from tears in my eyes.
July 16, 2020
Decaying House Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Constance La France
~Winner: 1st Place
As words escaped constricted passage
of time from eons of layered myths,
legends of demi-gods thus linked,
in glowing rendition, with whisk on hand
the Orator with staff, sang the Eel to slumber.
As words from parched lips of orchids, flowed
dispersing sweet juices germinating dense spheres
of time in which history was packed in roots,
armed with psalms in measured cadences,
the Orator soothed kings and chiefs.
As words of our ancestors oiled and pampered
by prophesies of aging oracles, songs of lovers
and monotonous chants of old men...slithered
into hiding while physical wars waged, succinctly
the Orator proclaimed the heroic pursuits of warriors.
As words, precision in recitation of kinship ties
craftily sewn by political machinations of unions
vital for survival of race waltzing in purity of blue
when blood flowed thru veins of aging rocks as
the Orator cemented pacts chanting tribal honorifics.
As words, imageries of sky bursting, moon phasing sunsets pertaining to legends of my village heroes,
sweet nectars that put rhythm in his art of tongues
inspired by fruits from my garden, mine own words
the Orator in action, was he infringing my copyright?
As words, our heritage orally passed down in poetry,
set imageries prohibiting meddling with sources,
set quotations where time absolved breaches of patent,
plagiarism, for traditions dictated that the word be
secured in a cocoon of oratory ferried down the ages
by the dynamics of cultural rites and rituals.
the Orator, blessed not only as the spiritual Vessel
...but now deemed as the Spoken Word incarnate.
Incarnations of many lifetimes
sweep before me...
Liberating my soul's chants
As universal notes of music
Float on vibrant strands of color,
Phasing purple, pure and light,
In violet vibrations, swirls of
Incandescent glitter shimmers
Drawn by gravity in downward drifts.
Flaming candle's smoky essence
Mixes with incense of sandalwood
In a wafting waltz of vertigo.
Past and present intertwine
Lacing love with pulsing pain.
Effervescent breath is shallowed
By visions from the living dead.
I gaze beyond the phasing face
of the nebulous horizon,
searching in clamorous silence
for a hypnotic glimpse
of your poetic sparks ~ lost,
placed within the kohl-dust
of dreariness dressed
in deceitful dancing diamonds,
like layered silver and gold,
seared by Zeus’s thunderous wrath,
leaving memories engraved
in satanic sapphires
across the tempestuous teal
soaked in surging tears
unshed and unseen...
I’ve long been fighting
demons masked as the raven visage
of my bleeding silhouette,
preaching kindness whilst feeding
my soul with venomous verses ~
the poisoned truths of past turbulence.
But I refuse to drown in despair.
I will dance through the
dimmed spheres ~ eclipsed and torn ~
to reach the amorous arms
of compassion,
awaiting amidst splitting sorrow.
And when it rains,
my heart quivers,
haunted by inner thoughts;
my mind paints lines of love
in darkness and disarray,
for I fear never seeing
the saffron light on
the moon’s tender lips.
And in the midst of
p u s h i n g and p u l l i n g,
trapped in aching coldness,
afraid of losing the warm,
golden strands of roseate dusk,
I hide and fade like
love’s heat at twilight,
burying the poetic longing
within storms of melancholy,
waiting for another
cup of coffee at sunset ~
where your name ricochets
like reveries of romance
and your voice reverberates
like musical mists of monsoon,
carving an ambience
of delicate desires
tying me to the ombre amber
s i n g i n g songs
of solace, forevermore....
Freedom ~ an inked kingdom
of macabre mirrors,
a vermiform lie
veiling the vehement suffering
amidst serpent estuaries,
surging within strangled skin,
as if I am the living sin,
jinxed by the crawling creatures
in the lamented labyrinth
of deceitful dreams,
inhaling venomous vapors
rising from the cursed creeks
that failed to caress
the brittle bones of delirious dawn,
where the nocturnal owl
sits, phasing stellar phantoms
on tattered twigs,
oblivious to the piercing pain I breathe,
as poetry feels like
a somatic hallucination,
a reflection of the phoenix crescent,
a dialect the naive can never comprehend,
the voice of truth,
the jaded outline of mortality,
can never interpret~
as the last sacred light of twilight
r e m a i n s
unmarked and lost to the Earth.
O wicked wind beneath
the crestfallen wings
of cruising constellations,
will this piece of paper save me
from the maleficent violets
in the spitfire blaze
of stigmatized stars?
I am stuck ~ hell-bound,
troubled placing my
tongue on Freyja’s chalice of tears,
for I feel oblivion closer than death,
I taste the flames of Tartarus,
I dance with demons,
I sing to the malevolent moon,
I see in distorted dimensions.
But would the ignorant know
I hear beyond what’s spoken,
in search of Eden and love?
I give gratitude to your God,
but the veiled care not~
this is beyond the making
of a self-forged inferno.
I am the harbinger of harmony,
my soul aches
to paint your scarlet spheres
in butterfly bliss,
praying in secret
that the deviant daggers in my spine
would blossom into russet roses,
their petals ~ like an elixir
to my paranoid psyche,
paralyzed in the
catacomb chaos of insanity,
as the scorpion Sun
k i s s e s
me one more time
with sweetened poison.
While you,
the spectators of this twisted spectacle,
condemn my insomniac aura
to stain the essence of my existence
with condescending colors,
unaware that
introspection is a powerful weapon~
all blood is blue,
and we breathe hypocrisy
scrutinizing the unknown....
Where Love Has Never Gone Before
...the legacy of a poet...
A man is not a man until his love becomes idolatrously immense
Since time began, his love eagerly evolved with his ideal intense
Now in suspended animation, his love spirally stagers in suspense
Within his venal violation, the Angels will deliberate in his defense
I, a simple poetic voice, shall take love thru the divergence of mind
Upon its choice, the viral verses shall reach the calamitous confined
Be love a black hole, or be it a quintessent quasar an astral aligned
Take a journey of soul, as love elaborates the embryonal of remind
Welcome to love’s eternal eclipse, where reflections of reality reminisce
Realms of refractiles in bliss as the Supernovae combust in a chaotic kiss
Words of love through dimensional drift of hellion holes and heavens lift
Descending with love in a demons shift ascending admits a seraph’s swift
Phasing thru portals of terrestrial time, beams of light of maximum prime
Exploiting love, a new paradigm, celestial symphonies’ in chambers chime
As love exponentially expands, touching multi-verses and lachrymal lands
Within the frozen fires, it withstands, landing upon seraphical sacred sands
The voices of love must be heard, of heavens and hells the winding word
Be it in the solitudes forever blurred, or melodic musicals of the songbird
For now, it silently sails in morning view, nestled of night by natures crew
Thus it is time to bid adieu, by the one word that has brought me to you.
June.20.2018
My Muse, Mortal
Sponsored by: Gregory R Barden
This heart~ a lovesick talisman
f l a r e s fallen sparks,
seeking Mayan glyphs of hope
amidst layered lace of halcyon,
illuminated with tears
of black diamonds,
for the empires ruined
by the self-righteous kings
throned in greed,
draped in galactic gold,
while ceremonial pyramids
adorned with copper footprints,
face the Venus star like sacred trees,
engrossed in sacrificial salt,
threading through ancient roots,
r e m i n i s c i n g
prophetic light of twin flames…
But beneath the storm
of wistful wildflowers
carrying pollen-etched promises,
there I revisit the book of soul,
with laws of lethal lies,
and ponder what
must have the
world witnessed
when mysteries of life were
mindlessly manipulated
from vermilion vines in
the vindictive valley of stone,
where civilizations were cremated
with smoke of hypocrisy,
and pages of destruction…
So, in this dejected domain of truth,
I question green-eyed dragonflies
fluttering in caves of confusion.
Will devotees of the antique moon
feel the sunrise within these words,
woven in white?
For I am the veiled bride,
wearing shells and feathers,
chained to the phasing cycles of Luna,
chasing the aura
of passing planets…
A paradise painted with rhinestone riches
and insincere ink
can never
last for an eternity,
but will be written as
a
f i n a l surrender
to roses that breathe
the forgotten fragrance
of the forsaken forest,
perhaps through
poignant tales of the past,
I will find the frayed spirit
of withered sagas,
the essence of broken vows
embalmed with
ancestral rain...
When the heart feels the
weight of unvoiced verses,
as the verdant embers of Venus
follow the frozen warmth
and the permafrost flickers
of persimmon and cinnamon,
like poetry slipping through
tortured time,
I stand at the cusp of
withering wishes,
like the silver of Luna phasing
above the lamented lighthouse,
cemented with mistrust,
embedded with uncertainties,
afraid of the crashing crystals
cradling my claustrophobic psyche…
O silent scribblers,
scrolling through words of woe,
forgive my impulsive ink.
I’ve long been a runner,
fleeing familiar fickleness,
exhausted and drained
in the midst of melancholy
that lingers across forlorn pages,
like coldness amidst a summer breeze,
like darkness dwelling
in the driftwood dust
of dawning dreams and rising roses,
rinsed with regrets of musky musings.
I race through miles of solitude,
chasing nirvana,
escaping the shackles
of black-thorn springs,
where breathing seems
like a miscalculated
step to misery and interrogation...
I am a misread flame,
entwined with forgotten footfalls,
reveling in solitude,
where sonnets of love
and elegies of sorrow
no longer pierce my soul,
like rusted steel.
I drown in syllables of zen,
alone but not lonely,
silent but not silenced,
anchored in the aesthetics
of self-love and serenity,
hypothesized by
the hesitant galaxies,
as if I am the conceited constellation
that wanes when
storms stir my senses.
But I refuse to pull the stars
into the hellish arms
of vagueness,
so this is me
saving you from
sweltering soliloquies
while homing
fragments of lucidity on
my own astral avenue…
Labyrinth of Sighs
Wondering through a labyrinth of sighs
More platitudes with attitudes that never question why
A litany of afterthoughts about where we go when we die
An emboldened range of rude retorts refuting the reasons why I cry
A canon blazing wartime over a century ago
The night sky spent stargazing, wondering what we really know
A multinational conglomerate just phasing out more duplicitous advertisements that “flow”
A hungry orphan on a street corner, with nowhere else to go
Self-aggrandising promotion everywhere I seem to look
The wealthy uprising causing commotions, celebrities writing books
A typhoon on the island coast, Turkey on the day the earth shook
A morbid day that hurts the most,
An undignified Capatalist crook
The arrogant certainty of western superiority
The way the monotony forms around typecast minorities
The precedence of material goods conspiring to take global priority
The contradictions of individualism that consume the vast majority
The medical anomalies and surgical advancements
The incredible atrocities of cosmetic enhancements
A formidable ferocity of genetics and semantics
An incredible philosophy of frenetic theological pedantics
A sincere gaze of solidarity into another persons eyes
A mere phase of different polarities that use scientific graphs to signify
A Purple Haze of creative improvisational genius that cannot be quantified
A confused daze of inconvenience as another witness is proven to have lied
Returning to the central point of a theoretical discourse
Concerning a fundamental joint possible hypothetical recourse
A burdened soldier after war suffering the agony of remorse
An ancient boulder from the shores of civilisations geographic historical course
A curious mathematician, an inspiring original think
The spurious contradictions of a political candidate on the brink
A furious proposition concerning a scandalously placed eye wink
Human connectivity and the endless search for the missing link
Copywright Elizabeth Moroz
Rapid urbanisation of the last century
causes more slums to mushroom
in the major cities of the world
particularly in developing countries.
Unplanned townships make it difficult
for government to plan for better
service delivery such as roads,
electricity,health,water and sanitation.
Local planning authorities should halt
illeagal allocation of land which leads
to the proliferation of slums.
Government should keep planning
for the poor;and must find better
solutions of phasing out slums
which have characterised many
towns and cities of the world.
And slums lie on a GOLDMINE
(PRIME LAND)which can
generate great wealthy
for poorer communities.
chipepo lwele
29/01/2013
Sun refracts through window, raising sight
See her standing within my gazing sight
Dry timbers lay in a pile awaiting spark
Fire ignites heartfelt joy in blazing sight
Lying on our backs to enjoy each night
Watch evening’s moon, each phasing sight
Noises abound through warm walls of home
Children amassed at play, a crazing sight
A life that could only have been imagined
Started one day with an amazing sight