Best Rarified Poems


Icons Set In Stone

How firmly they stand,
the spires of history
that no one can destroy.
What a curious melange
of hate and love
and yesterday's antipathy.
Indifferent they are,
leaving us their basic legacy-- 
shining, mocking; it is their heritage,
and the winds of change have no effect
upon a single word.

Within their shadow is enshrined,
the totality of every lie 
and every truth we ever knew.
Tread softly in their midst--
It is rarified companionship they offer.
Dare we even to essay to smooth the path
historic footsteps made, 
or cleared the way for ours?

There is no answer from the silent skies.
It is the empty flagon of serenity,
the hopeless void that stretches out forever,
calling forth the meditator to his bench,
and time to its eternal rest.
        ~
Categories: rarified, time,
Form: Free verse

Manhattan Soliloquy

...dedicated to Hart Crane (1899-1932)

 
As I dream the sounds of morning sliver,
cut my senses; slow, persistent slices
pierce my eyes to ragged wakefulness.
The muffled cries of merchant hustle and
the honking of the traffic, the noises of
a summer's day displace my reveries.

I wake, and through my window I see
barges in the harbour, bustling like
beetles, scuttling over busy waters,
dragging ships with overflowing cargoes
safe to rest - the dockhands primed 
and ready to disgorge the merchandise,

as sunshine washes monoliths of steel
and glass in dazzling refinement - Manhattan
like a mass of golden bars, smoldering and tall.
Steam and smoke engulf a vibrant scene

encompassing, then drifting into nothingness,
the sky a blazing blue, the docks a maze
of rarified activity as yelling fills the air.

Beams irradiate my garret - drafts of bright 
and humid air like punches in the stomach
take the breath out of my lungs and leave me
gasping. I sit and watch you sleeping on the bed.

You stretch atop the covers like a vision,
your legs and arms a picture in repose;
I do not dare to wake you from your dreams,
your limbs splayed like a strumpet, you expose
 
your naked form, my touch will flutter your desire.

 
               your body 'wrapped in mine,
        our souls a living sacramen
                   to love and joy divine.
           I enter you and all the stars explode,
                      fulfillment is our quest,
                              our shining testament.


As evening gently falls the windows glimmer,
the city glistens now from altered light;
the glowing falters as the sun dips slowly,
dying in the West, makes way for night.
Activity's still rife, but in my garret,
I reach for you as darkness settles soft,
I hold you in my arms, forever blessed,
while stars are quietly dancing up aloft.
Categories: rarified, writing,
Form: Verse

Premium Member Wilderness Envisioning

Sometimes, I roam a lush green forest...
                 in my mind; birds sing a chorus

               Being one with nature and admiring
                        it's magnificent splendor;
                              all it has to offer

                         Sometimes I envision...
                            surrendering freely
                   to the beauteous wilderness.
                   Once in a blue moon, I'd hike 
                            up the mountains 
                    where the rarified air is thin.
                          I'd sit at the summit
                  in a tabula rasa state of mind
                           as if lost in time;
                                surveying 
                              the vast sea
                          of tall green trees.
                          I'd picture myself
                                  standing
                                 at the top 
                             with my hands
                               outstretched
                      like Leonardo DiCaprio
                        in the movie, "Titanic,"
                                 exclaiming...
                    "I'm the king of the world!"

                          magnificent sights
                       wilderness envisioning...
                             in full surrender


Writing Challenge - Nature, Four In One - Poetry Contest (Winner: 1st Place)
Forms: Crystalline(9/8), Kimo(10/7/6), Verse, Haiku(5/7/5) 
Syllables checked at www.HowManySyllables.com
Sponsored by Constance La France
Themes chosen: Forest, Trees & Birds
Date written: 09/06/2020
Categories: rarified, appreciation, beauty, bird, imagery,
Form: Verse

Book: Radiant Verses: A Journey Through Inspiring Poetry


Manhattan Soliloquy

...dedicated to Hart Crane (1899-1932)

 
As I dream the sounds of morning sliver,
cut my senses; slow, persistent slices
pierce my eyes to ragged wakefulness.
The muffled cries of merchant hustle and
the honking of the traffic, the noises of
a summer's day displace my reveries.

I wake, and through my window I see
barges in the harbor, bustling like
beetles, scuttling over busy waters,
dragging ships with overflowing cargoes
safe to rest - the dock hands primed 
and ready to disgorge the merchandise,

as sunshine washes monoliths of steel
and glass in dazzling refinement - Manhattan
like a mass of golden bars, smoldering and tall.
Steam and smoke engulf a vibrant scene

encompassing, then drifting into nothingness,
the sky a blazing blue, the docks a maze
of rarified activity as yelling fills the air.

Beams irradiate my garret - drafts of bright 
and humid air like punches in the stomach
take the breath out of my lungs and leave me
gasping. I sit and watch you sleeping on the bed.

You stretch atop the covers like a vision,
your legs and arms a picture in repose;
I do not dare to wake you from your dreams,
your limbs splayed like a starlet, you expose
 
your naked form, my touch will flutter your desire.

 
               your body 'wrapped in mine,
        our souls a living sacrament
                   to love and joy divine.
           I enter you and all the stars explode,
                      fulfillment is our quest,
                              our shining testament.


As evening gently falls the windows glimmer,
the city glistens now from altered light;
the glowing falters as the sun dips slowly,
dying in the West, makes way for night.
Activity's still rife, but in my garret,
I reach for you as darkness settles soft,
I hold you in my arms, forever blessed,
while stars are quietly dancing up aloft.
Categories: rarified, writing,
Form: Verse

Most Opulent Dream

Experience your most opulent dream.
Taste solitude as one sampling rare and
ancient wine from fluted crystal goblets.
Be exhilarated in reaching toward the heavens
in 'primal scream' ecstasy
after climbing a hazardous rock massif,
and there inhaling rarified air
no other human being ever breathed.
Possess courage to explore
deep caverns and nether-world sanctums,
while holding fast to the vision and reason
that keeps one safe in plight.
Cast yourself upon the boundless ocean
depths, and fearing not a rogue wave,
be ferried safely through moonless,
liquid nights on waves of blue-green foam.

And believing you possess none of these
traits or aptitudes, dream passionately
while living humbly. Know self-esteem 
while holding fast to modesty. 
Walk the earth knowing nature and man
as companions and helpmates. Leave footprints
in the soil that are a clear path toward
truth and safety. For bravery occupies every
heart, and fear is cast aside with each step 
that courage and fortitude take.
Live each day then, to the full. Go forth,
and experience your most opulent dream.


                               6-2-15
                               Experience Your Most Opulent Dream
Categories: rarified, fear, imagery, journey,
Form: Free verse

Mazel Tov

A week in Spain, the Pyranees, a picturesque drive
from Barcelona, where I had not thought to become the owner
of sanity once more, there, where the command of a
mountain is to Look Up, leave the roiling band of unrest
over airways, TV screens, the front page unquiet
conversation we are accustomed to in our Nation,
no escape from that, except in rarified altitudes of no rape.
un-civil wars, terrorism, assaults with handguns, students killed
in classrooms.  "Loony Tunes" play in this country we love,
America, and abroad a Middle East in crisis.  It's a given,
said my husband, born Algerian: no peace, No Peace.
So, home again, I said, standing in a postal queue,
Mazel Tov to absence of all this among the hills
of rural Spain, where, Yes, there's rain, but much less
pain. The postal clerk was unkind, he said,
Girl?  Why Mazel Tov? When here you could
have merely turned your television off.
© Nola Perez  Create an image from this poem.
Categories: rarified, mountains,
Form: Dramatic Verse


Vroom Men Hood

Some dude from
     vinyl city revs engine
     of his dirt bike to the max
     blasting the air
testosterone roars throughout
     his every bone and fiber
     broadcasting deafening
     nauseating mating clear

*****sapien primal
     (atavistic urge) culled dear
ring lee from bajillion
     years old genealogy,
     sans chromosomal
     blueprint in heir
writ tens of thou
     sands sieve generations

ah...momentarily, there
     pervades a stillness,
which golden imponderable
     silence savored heavenly,
     gloriously, and fully with delight,
unsure when the next fume ming
     fuel blast will excite
the truant high

     school kid delinquent
     stinting precious 
    education, viz flight
o' fancy to race beginning
    at dawns early light
ear splitting unmuffled 
     noise pollution,
     where exhaust smoke billows

     akin to tethered kite
blending with rarified
     atmosphere height,
as wisps snake 
     skyward eventually
     getting dispersed amidst bright
amidst soundcloud
     clear out of sight,

which brief interlude of quietude
     near painful silence to bear
ah...thank dog the
     wind in the willows

     soon replete with blare
ring blitzkrieg bomb
bard ding doth declare
ring foolish time
     wasting youth
 
     desultory cavalierly,
     blithely and aimlessly gear
rill less lee spinning away life
     with nary a blues clues care!
Categories: rarified, 10th grade, 12th grade,
Form: Enclosed Rhyme

Premium Member The Wisdom of Men

Eminent Doctors and professors
Did meet, at a prominent place
For their prominent feats

After much preamble; they sat down
Face to face; their table was long, a
Shiny space.

Their gizmos and gadgets the very best
They spoke on many topics from health
To outer space; even vests.

Rarified though not verified; their thesis’s
Verged on stultified

Unabashed they all rumbled along; it caused pain in the ears as it
Lingered long!

And so their attention arrived at God
His attributes they sifted with grimace
And nods.

Then came; the summing up to wit’
Now I’ll disclose it bit by bit

He never lies, or brags Himself; yet holds
Position on the highest shelf.

A stage that none could ever attain,
No matter how worthy or how they trained!

He always had an answer ready, He made
The stoutest men unsteady

He always did just what he said. And He
Claimed He would judge the quick and
The dead!

He had that Son of great repute, yet who kept gutter company all
This is forsooth

Such discrepancies and such power and
Pride I felt their indignance; and chagrin inside!

There we have it; 70 voices intoned' as each came to the table
Each placed a stone


He has no intelligence; in unison they all groaned, it’s extreme
Autism.  He’s as dumb
As these stones!

©Joe Maverick 6-12-2021
Categories: rarified, bible, education, irony,
Form: Didactic

The Pinnacle

Surfeit of stalagmites barring, hampering my way
Clouds descending from heavenly heights
Obscuring my outlook in the rarified air
Mount Certes challenged all my senses
Aching muscles, pounding heart, gasping intakes of breath
But for all that I felt elated, ecstatically elated
My soul craved for such a challenge an achievement made
I hesitated pondering whether to rest for sustenance
Or carry on unreservedly whilst still light enough to see
There were mountain caves inhabited by Franciscan monks
Many mystics through the ages marvelled at Certes enlightenment
Mount Certes was inaccessible by the seaward side
Sheer chalk cliffs had disintegrated battered by stormy seas
Atop the mountain was the Pinnacle chapel
Once offerings had been made on the site to the Greek Gods
Recent excavations had uncovered many artifacts
Venerable was whispered by town folk below
Whenever the mystics descended for the yearly penitents offerings
Was I strong enough to reach the Pinnacle?
My unswerving faith would ensure
Though my unfit body would be a daunting problem
Recently I had decided to reassess my whole lifestyle
I wanted to be reborn in my values and jaundiced outlook on life
Washed clean, inviolate new goals and to be strengthened spiritually
God would surely forgive my introspective selfish ways
Confess and your sins shall be forgive you
Professed to have been spoken about  by the disciple Peter
coming directly from the lips of Jesus himself
I was a sinner, still am, until I reach the Pinnacle of perfection.
Categories: rarified, blessing, mountains, spiritual, uplifting,
Form: Narrative

Grasping At Thin Air


You say you’ve always tried 
to reach out to me,
even to the outer limits of your patience — 
That lofty trust atmosphere

But, just how far
did you try to reach within
the deep, shadow spaces of your heart
And grab a shovel hold 
of the buried fears darkly hidden — 
Rarified confidence shaken

Unconditional love in need of complete certainty
is starry-eye missing
Rock solid trust has vanished into thin-air 
Now our joyous stratosphere
has plummeted into the depths of despair 

A little daily dawn, pillow pep talk,
and a lot of depressing, twilight tears
Sent me sky searching
on a caffeine yawn abstinence walk
Cloudy doubts 
of a split mind 
are asunder trying to blow in my ear — 

A gloomy scent, whispering affair ...
pulse telling me of your new, nicotine needs
Suspicions sucked out of thin air,
giving you inadequacy thoughts of infidelity

A stranger friend knocking at my door,
puffing unkindly of me rude
when I’m not here
Poisonous breath cancerous to the core,
makes your loving attitude
vapor disappear

Anger shrouded in a mist veil of phantom promiscuity;
I gotta climb up the interrogation stairs,
thru the lip curse downpour of more accusatory weeps

Something has to whether change ... 
should I fallen leave or sturdy remain?

Emotional peace is mountain altitude rare
It’s so hard to keep loving someone
who really don’t think you honestly care

Having plea feelings strapped to an electric chair;
zapped by constant jolts of distrust,
got this brokenhearted man grasping at thin air

Free-falling cry thru the storm clouds,
seems your rescue reach
shrinks a bit more with each dry smile
Categories: rarified, allusion, heartbroken, imagery, sad
Form: Dramatic Monologue

Manhattan Soliloquy

...dedicated to Hart Crane (1899-1932)

 
As I dream the sounds of morning sliver,
cut my senses; slow, persistent slices
pierce my eyes to ragged wakefulness.
The muffled cries of merchant hustle and
the honking of the traffic, the noises of
a summer's day displace my reveries.

I wake, and through my window I see
barges in the harbor, bustling like
beetles, scuttling over busy waters,
dragging ships with overflowing cargoes
safe to rest - the dock hands primed 
and ready to disgorge the merchandise,

as sunshine washes monoliths of steel
and glass in dazzling refinement - Manhattan
like a mass of golden bars, smoldering and tall.
Steam and smoke engulf a vibrant scene

encompassing, then drifting into nothingness,
the sky a blazing blue, the docks a maze
of rarified activity as yelling fills the air.

Beams irradiate my garret - drafts of bright 
and humid air like punches in the stomach
take the breath out of my lungs and leave me
gasping. I sit and watch you sleeping on the bed.

You stretch atop the covers like a vision,
your legs and arms a picture in repose;
I do not dare to wake you from your dreams,
your limbs splayed like a strumpet, you expose
 
your naked form, my touch will flutter your desire.

 
               your body 'wrapped in mine,
        our souls a living sacrament
                   to love and joy divine.
           I enter you and all the stars explode,
                      fulfillment is our quest,
                              our shining testament.


As evening gently falls the windows glimmer,
the city glistens now from altered light;
the glowing falters as the sun dips slowly,
dying in the West, makes way for night.
Activity's still rife, but in my garret,
I reach for you as darkness settles soft,
I hold you in my arms, forever blessed,
while stars are quietly dancing up aloft.
Categories: rarified, dedication,
Form: Verse

Premium Member Beautiful Narcissist

I received a visit
from a beautiful narcissist
She could not see
For she was blinded
By the perceived 
The magnificence she thought I would see
The person she wanted to be
In those few moments
Standing there with effervescent smile
She imagined what must be going through my mind
How I was so fortunate to breath rarified air
How her being here was my most special gift

I knew she would only stay for a while
When she visits she leaves a gift
From honeyed tongue and perfumed lips
I listen to practiced recycled praise
Saying the same thin words in different ways
The sound of her voice hollow, yet still it stays
I am left here wondering why?
perhaps it's because she's candy for my eyes
I accept imagined beauty as my prize

Once gone, I forget she was even here
Someone who ventured close but didn't come near
She is but a whisper on the wind
Her fabric lacks substance it's badly thinned 
So I move on to life that matters
Away from pretenders clinging to ladders

In a few minutes she will come your way
A couple more rungs to fill her day
Bask for a moment in that smile
Try not to blink 
She'll stay just a short while
Perhaps you too will wonder why
Or maybe you'll walk away without a goodbye
Not interested
In seeing
Or being 
Near
Close to
A beautiful narcissist
Categories: rarified, image, vanity,
Form: Free verse

At Brooks' Balance

"You're having a little one," 
I say, seeking information 
from my therapist 
(she's considerably
pregnant).  Then, I ask her 
about vocation: 

Why she chose this specialty, 
and did she 
know the baby's sex, 
name, and serial number?  
She says,  No Maybe about it, 
the baby's a girl and
has a name.  

"Did you know the name 
you chose is fame-
ous? A name rarified?
Hemingway's Paris
wife," I clarified, 

And then, I wrote 
this rhyme: a little 
riff for a baby gift: 
"We'll gladly
welcome Hadley, 
(she's a girl), 
into our world."
© Nola Perez  Create an image from this poem.
Categories: rarified, for her,
Form: Blank verse

Premium Member Summer Sky Tableau

The Horse Nebula
rises from flames, forged
from Milky Way core.
Saturn flanks his right,
Jupiter his left --
Gods girded for war.

Lightning bolts whistle
above the red glare
for all to beware.
Dark stallion ascends,
riderless, regal,
through the rarified air.




Photo taken by the author at the Blackwater National Wildlife Refuge, July 29, 2019, showing Saturn, Jupiter, the Milky Way core, and Southern Delta Aquarid meteors.
© Eric Cohen  Create an image from this poem.
Categories: rarified, nature, planet, sky, space,
Form: Verse

Manhattan Soliloquy

...dedicated to Hart Crane (1899-1932)

 
As I dream the sounds of morning sliver,
cut my senses; slow, persistent slices
pierce my eyes to ragged wakefulness.
The muffled cries of merchant hustle and
the honking of the traffic, the noises of
a summer's day displace my reveries.

I wake, and through my window I see
barges in the harbor, bustling like
beetles, scuttling over busy waters,
dragging ships with overflowing cargoes
safe to rest - the dock hands primed 
and ready to disgorge the merchandise,

as sunshine washes monoliths of steel
and glass in dazzling refinement - Manhattan
like a mass of golden bars, smoldering and tall.
Steam and smoke engulf a vibrant scene

encompassing, then drifting into nothingness,
the sky a blazing blue, the docks a maze
of rarified activity as yelling fills the air.

Beams irradiate my garret - drafts of bright 
and humid air like punches in the stomach
take the breath out of my lungs and leave me
gasping. I sit and watch you sleeping on the bed.

You stretch atop the covers like a vision,
your legs and arms a picture in repose;
I do not dare to wake you from your dreams,
your limbs splayed like a starlet, you expose
 
your naked form, my touch will flutter your desire.

 
               your body 'wrapped in mine,
        our souls a living sacrament
                   to love and joy divine.
           I enter you and all the stars explode,
                      fulfillment is our quest,
                              our shining testament.


As evening gently falls the windows glimmer,
the city glistens now from altered light;
the glowing falters as the sun dips slowly,
dying in the West, makes way for night.
Activity's still rife, but in my garret,
I reach for you as darkness settles soft,
I hold you in my arms, forever blessed,
while stars are quietly dancing up aloft.
Categories: rarified, writing,
Form: Verse
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Book: Radiant Verses: A Journey Through Inspiring Poetry

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