Best Requiems Poems
Sometimes when
moonlight weeps to sleep,
I sit, draped
in burning dreams,
and beautiful nightmares
of moments lost,
engraved along the rising
of blushing blossoms,
within cerulean azure.
But shadows fade,
as clarity descends
upon the ivory beach,
adorned in pearls
and palm leaves.
I await for twilight to
sing my heart to
the milky-way.
I stretch my fingers,
to count glistening gems,
that shower silver
streaks upon my
stranded silhouette.
And I question the universe,
in r i d d l e s and r h y m e s~
what flows within
empty spaces
between iridescent
lines of stars?
Would I find traces
of footprints that left
the face of this earth,
where they
thrive eternal crests
in paradise?
Maybe there’s rivulets
of jewels with initials of
angels residing
in blissful musing,
in hope-filled reveries,
as the cosmic maestros,
orchestrate peaceful notes
with ethereal keys of faith,
In a choir for
celestial requiems,
to heal the grieving mind
that t i m e couldn’t mend.
I saw it rained
a rainbow with frozen
memories through my
glass window..
and I remembered
how I’ve always felt
closer to you in astral realms,
whilst soaked in
galactic light.
So tonight, I whisper,
prayers in poetic prose,
hoping you’ll feel my tears,
from the
highest halcyon haven.
Even death can
never kill a dreamer,
that bears memories,
and relives them
through classical sonatas.
Maybe this is how
a poet reminisces,
heartbeats in h e a v e n…
Music is an undying
art of soul ~
an abstract eden, where,
euphonious unicorns
glide in strawberry sonatas,
amplifying rhapsody in
ballads of flight,
when fuchsia feathers
tease those
jingling breezes,
infusing breaths
in every lifeless aroma;
where I can soar
beyond the
brushstrokes
of symphonies that
planktons sing to me,
in the requiems of
forsaken pearls,
crooning with
silenced shimmers
beneath wavy blues.
Maybe,
I'm a songwriter
without words,
and my electric fingers
trace the tunes
of serene strings,
when guitars weave
a sonorous guilt
midst ruby runes
of regrets.
I wish to keep
swinging in a
cosmic cadence,
where celestial notes
choreograph
themselves in the
moonwalking
mellifluence of
lunar legacies.
I gossip with
neon nightingales,
laced with neutrinos
and compel them
to chant those
healing incantations
of love and glory,
like the forlorn
princess - Rapunzel,
desiring to feel
the glow of
familiar lanterns,
winged with
hazy syncs of
unsung yesteryears.
I wonder if,
I'm not meant
to compose
crystal canticles
in a Disney duet,
for, I believe,
I'm a soul searcher
in the flesh of
a soloist, concocting
an elixir of my
existence through
cinnamon anthems
of mystical
moonrises, as
they softly unfold,
a million
unheard tempos,
within tranquil
memoirs.
I'm the 'maiden of music'
resting as a floret on
every sepal,
yearning to become
a unique acapella
of nature,
where empathy
has an ethereal
dialect of
nurturing spirits
and tinkles
of magical waterfalls
whisper in
gentle lachrymose lulls
of our ambrosial Mother.
When the harmony
of my voice,
kisses those
ivory keys of
the heart-shaped
piano, they
echo a tipsy secret
in my sunset skin,
making me
believe ~
"I'm everywhere
in the essence,
yet nowhere
to be found...",
like the sweet
scents of
hummingbirds,
smiling behind
that first dusky star.
"In each husky hallelujah
of ribboned halts and replays,
life is a song ~
where every lyric,
phrases an ember of end,
and when passionate heartbeats
shall knit sombre medleys,
I will hum in the last 'chef-d'oeuvre'... "
The clinical sentence was pronounced,
perfumed with the devil’s royal scent ~
a relapse that smells
like an ethereal remedy
as every restless leaf abandons
its luscious green to the grave,
where her heartbeat
still sighs amidst the sleepless sunrise
beneath the loam,
where gloaming once, upon a blood moon,
homed the valiant vibratos
of her laughter,
yet if the only way to remember
is to remain unhealed,
as russet strings
of a violin ring through,
carrying sweet nightmares ~
held within the dusk
like beloved nightingales,
letting my inner calendar
return to circling the date
when she last breathed my name ~
O divine darkness,
let me fade until the face
of September’s stars wane
and phase the sorrow
into soundless torrents of
rehearsed requiems
until hurt sounds like a hypnotic hymn.
I swallowed, O Griefversary,
my penance through turning time,
the italicised letters
chronicling the chronic memoirs
while the tongue of trauma
prescribes crippling anxiety
into my thoughts,
I have long bottled
blurred hope
and summer sonatas,
with every memory crushed
like an autopsy listed as an accessory,
weaving words
borrowed from archived affections
as I leave line after line,
no longer aching
for the dark to understand that
my faith developed a stutter,
my pulse filed pleas for Prozac,
my ink confessed unseen panic,
my skin carried fingerprints
of midnight fears ~
and I still walk through
the black rose maze of memories,
around the season of
her irrevocable demise ~
September, the soulful wraith
of ghosts I love beyond death…
“instrumentalising mind, I rested thought
employing it only when needed
shifting to heart, I became self-taught
gentling touch, voice of conscience heeded” ~ Unseeking Seeker
When thoughts purge in restlessness,
we pause the frequency of the mind,
allowing the rhapsodies
of the rosemary heart
to compose lyrics of
life in sync with sandalwood serenity…
I am a gossamer ribbon,
drifting across
caliginous cloudscapes,
like a delicate trace
of greying gloaming,
listening to the eerie requiems
ricocheting through the horizon.
But am I to follow the hypnotic lies,
perpetually prompting
my thoughts to ink
crimson confetti of confusion?
For the heart is the window
to the crown chakra,
awaiting the alignment of seven stars,
where the mind remains a mystery,
unreliable and capricious,
like the wind carrying
the sound of raging rain tonight.
O celestial maestro
of the cosmos and beyond,
let fears dissolve into ambient waves,
rippling with rejuvenating radiance,
reflecting seraphic light
from the crooning currents beneath~
tempestuous tides,
while I unchain the confined
chambers of my persona,
to unravel the alchemist within,
that knows not the
dying colors of dusk and dawn,
and reveals emerald auroras
in hibiscus harmony,
amidst the moonless
serenades of the sky~
in sync with my stained consciousness.
So let the dancing dreams
and the divine spirit
manifest through bleeding intuition,
as I open my arms to the sun
singing within his euphoric siesta,
there lakes of lotus ebb and flow in
ethereal themes,
transforming jinxed juniper lilies
into joyous jasmines,
and my voice shall mirror
pristine peonies,
scented with mystical musk,
where the fickleness of existence
is liquidated with lavender scriptures,
for my heart is the
empyrean haven for northern gems,
guiding the glass kayak of survival,
refusing darkness to mask
the kundalini mantras within
the alluring aura of life,
rehearsing self-fulfilling prophecies,
to illuminate silhouettes of
the galaxies in crystalline clarity.
I walk the stars beyond my shadowed dreams.
Not cognizant, the mortal dim of eyes -
On twilight’s breast, my coalescent seams.
Kids’ adorn’d my hair - my birthday crown, beams.
No strength to snuff the light…I see the skies.
I walk the stars beyond my shadowed dreams.
Too young, yet old…what now…too late for schemes.
I’m in the nest, grieving…oh how time flies!
On twilight’s breast, my coalescent seams.
In sorrow’s weep, bereft kiss of moonbeams.
As nighttime falls, time to say our goodbyes.
I walk the stars beyond my shadowed dreams.
The solemn room grows loud with requiems.
This poignant temp’ral tick - my mom’s-heart’ cries.
On twilight’s breast, my coalescent seams.
Beyond horizon, ageless pleasant streams.
Forth flowing peace of God…the last sunrise.
I walk the stars beyond my shadowed dreams.
Earth’s solemn breast - death’s coalescent seams.
8/8/2022
FIRST PERSON VILLANELLE
Sponsor: L. Milton Hankins
Used howmanysyllables and rhymezone
Eighty-eight keys of ivory
Create the story of history
From requiems and waltzes
To rhythm and blues,
From dirges and ballads
To pop and rock,
How amazing! What stories are told
By gifted musicians and eighty-eight keys.
In our music room
Eighty-eight keys are played
When I am happy
When I am sad
When I am melancholy
When I am bored
When the holidays approach
And on days that are lonely.
Listen closely to the music
And imagine the story
Unraveling through the notes
Light and lively, slow and trudging
Creating a visual of the colors and climate,
Thoughts and feelings,
Life and loss of the musician
And her eighty-eight keys.
2022 Marathon Mile 5 Poetry Contest
Mark Toney
June 15, 2022
"Parting is such sweet sorrow that I shall say goodnight till it be morrow. " ~ Shakespeare
As fragments of the stars abandoned
the sage of night, my kohl heart bleeds
beside your trembling tombstone,
while soul aches to seize the
fading scents within
the iris of
auroras,
leaving
dreams
and
I, lost
like the speed
of shooting sparks,
twirling above ghosts
in the cemetery
of wild corpse roses, whistling
moonless requiems to ravens
blind to the truth etched in lithium...
In my blooming brokenness,
I seek for a
clue of something meaningful,
but what if nothing of velvety value
ever lies within material items,
frozen in trembling time,
soaked in raining blood roses,
yet holds memories inscribed~
with blushing beams of blueberry glows,
drifting above hushed hills
sitting in the hollow hallways
in hallowed motionlessness.
Is it ironic that a golden mirror
emanates reflections
of more than just my
bronze silhouette?
It weighs heavy with seething secrets,
lost between changing seasons
and deranged emotions,
resigned in rhythmic requiems
of restrained freedom.
I remember the suppressed
sagas of silvery glass,
that stretched beyond my watery iris,
written with russet skin of fallen feathers...
and I whisper to the vermilion wallflowers
within my burgundy room,
of how I found the magical mirror
to my aching soul,
in a retail store, illuminated
by medieval chandeliers,
hanging in Victorian gloominess.
I used to sculpt crystalline chronicles
along the caramel-tinted frames,
that have seen stars of summer fade
into fragile springs,
while autumn arrived,
knocking on my conscience,
to cloak me in sparkling
champagne warmth.
But time is a relentless reminder
of how the garnet moon wanes,
and constellations of
glistening truth crack.
Now the mirror that heard
the unsung songs
beneath my marigold lipstick,
is reluctant to see the unspoken wounds,
leaving me stranded
in an accidental battle
with rhyme-less words,
for all that remains, untamed,
are hopelessly claimed strings
of familiar, once-upon-a-fairytales...
So it refracts, stands, unbothered,
like a forgotten ornament
left under a broken tree,
with weeping leaves and tainted twigs,
without a companion~
wrapped as a pleasant present
ribboned with riddles
of a weathered d r e a m …..
I have no desire to mindlessly
objectify an abandoned object
with mosaic metaphors…
==============================
When the wicked winter comes
seeping past the wards she keeps,
she looks on as he succumbs,
thanking God it's while he sleeps.
She finds she is ill prepared
when the wicked winter comes,
to let go the life they shared.
Anguish swings its pendulums.
Heartbreak's endless requiems,
rites for which she dearly pays,
when the wicked winter comes,
blight her solitary days.
Tears remain behind her eyes,
years maintain the interums,
yet she still finds pain's surprise,
when the wicked winter comes.
==============================
my name means flames that crawl down your face and ruin your night
it's when you laugh so hard you break your spine
but then realize you never had one in the first place
it's when you beg God to make an optimist out of a suicidal headcase
it's when you sit and think "what's wrong with me"
it's shades of blue in the minor key.
the color of the sky, the warmth of sun and the way she lovingly lights up
the moon the stars and the clouds,
it reminds me of the sound of chains hitting the ground
the sound of goliath tumbling down,
the way the earth shook as the prison walls gave in.
it reminds me of the beginning.
in any case, it's beautiful.
even Heaven sighs.
my favorite poets: speak not in stanzas but in verses.
they speak in major and minor keys,
requiems concertos and symphonies.
they speak in the secret chord that David played,
and it pleased the Lord.
but you don't really care for music, do you?
you'll often find me searching for a magic pill to cure my sober thoughts,
clinging desperately to a burning makeshift Cross.
you'll often find me sinking into a white pillowcase
but it won't be long until it's covered in stains,
mascara and tears,
expired dreams and growing pains.
you'll often find me with a crackling voice.
i can't find the right words to say anyway,
so let's just talk tomorrow,
though i'm certain the result will look the same.
but anyway,
if you want to find me,
that is where i'll be.
"Until the fish learns to fly
Or until the birds learn to swim"
You will be my light, my light
In cloudy even dark days of my life
Hugging and holding me so tight
Sometimes squeezing even breaths of me
Building dreams of tomorrow
Love flying heights like the sparrow
I have believed and love you
Entrusted my heart to you
Breaking rigid laws to be next to you
Holding tight or lose to keep you
Yet, what have you done!
What you have done?
Loving two, not only one!
You left me without proper goodbye
Darting me, dead shot on bull's eye
Bursting me, from a haven of bubbles
Letting me fall. from heaven to hell
Backstabbing me, sudden and hard
Letting me wander and wonder, why?
Why oh why?!
Droplets of salty water flows, night and day
That even summer sunshine cannot erase
Deep cuts of joyful memories
Becomes a resonating sad requiems
Here and everywhere a bask of blues
Casting me elsewhere as I remember you
Betraying my love that's true
Oh my God please carry me through!
By
olive_eloisa
11:30 am
02/26/2014
CONTEST: BETRAYAL
SPONSOR: FRANK H.
2nd Place
Line of inquiry - Ego shorn, here now reborn.
Unselfish Heart
The glow of the unselfish heart
Decorates emptiness with candles
While scattered relics of garden purity
Re-light votives in Babylon
In the gleam of selfless candelas
Nascent tapers breathe new oxygen
In the eternal fire of the Samaritan heart
Lanterns revive requiems for still born joy
As sunrise glimmers of the merciful spirit
Leave tealights in newborn cradles
When icy enigmatic self-adorations
Flee before incandescent revelations of humility
The glow of the unselfish heart
Decorates new naked selves with candles
Swaddled in the first shy blush
Of tingling flambeaus for new butterflies.
7-2-22
Contest: Ego Shorn, here now reborn
Sponsor: Unseeking Seeker
The play of the night
Upon which we speak
Opens the evening with delight
And create a positive spin
She saves her heartache
For the master of night
Where the moonlight
Penetrates the heart
And allows the pain to depart
Through sleeves of trains
Of whistles and borrowers
Of words, there are stars
That elicit another realm
Of dominance where she can’t
Escape, but filters the heartache
Into pieces of manageable
Parts, where the night
Opens into soft requiems
And the moon delivers
Its peace once again
Russell Sivey
Never been afraid of the nought,
Until your existence came upon.
Never feared requiems,
Until your breath stirred my life.
Did not mind stoicism,
Until your smile revitalized everything around.
It is like
every light, every meaning,
every sunshine and every wonderful thing
that the Earth has,
are being possessed by you.
Only you.
And if you decide not to stay,
the world will never be the same.
It would turn into a mass of asteroids.
Lifeless,
meaningless,
useless.
You have the core of my Earth,
And without you,
there will be no more foundation for my spirit,
music on my lyrics
and reason for my heartbeat.
So please, Love, do not leave.
But, when my encasement do not satisfy you anymore,
When the Earth is not enough for its core,
Forget my plea.
Leave,
my sunshine,
my soul,
my everything.
I embrace the state of being an asteroid.
As long as I make you happy.
#ifyoustay#
Just as God cast Lucifer from his Millennial Kingdom
So too have I been ousted from your Turbulent Heaven
And as a fallen general would fall on his sword
So too do I feel icy metal piercing my flesh
The doc withdraws my blood
I've been coming to this hospital for years
The old wound healed, and tore itself apart again
And yet I'm here for a new reason
I'm surprised I could fall asleep on this hospital bed
But after a day of hard work
Of hard knocks
I could probably sleep on a knife
I can only stifle a laugh
Why draw blood when I still have so much on my face?
Between my swollen eye and cut lip
Your hand drew nasal blood quite effectively
I came here believing I was already dead
Or at the very least praying that the doc could kill me
Or help me take all the pain away otherwise
Because I do want to see what the future holds
You spent a good week in the psych ward yourself
I wanted the same results you got
But the world doesn't turn the same
For those who admit they want to die
It's been a rough six months
A swirl of colors painted my gray skies
Requiems of gold and silver, turbulent pink and brown
Ended with the deepest greens and darkest reds
There's nothing left around here for me
At least, nothing resembling how it used to be
And I can't run back to the other town
Now that I've burned my scholastic career to cinders
So just as I was two years ago
I'm bedridden with no escape
And this time without the friend I've had for so long
Or a shadow of a promise of hope