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Best Rubaiyat Poems | Poetry

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The Best Rubaiyat Poems

Details | Rubaiyat Poem | Create an image from this poem.

Poet in Recluse

I relinquish my pen before the storm
of her tears falling upon my bare arm
her gentle whispering breathed in my ear
Muse of mine, adieu to your wit and charm

With piqued reasons I have come to deduce
It's time to say fond farewell to my muse
She should seek a new poet and lay claim
for my words have grown utterly abstruse

Spare me sullen eyes, from cries in refrain
I shall not weep in sadness nor disdain
Bitterness does not become a recluse
My poet's heart weakens, I dare not feign

Time's drawn the shades in darkness of night
No candle flame shall glimmer enough light
in which I may be tempted before morn
to doubt seclusion and attempt to write

Cloistered without pen, I shall ever be
From thinking in rhyme I shall be set free
Poems half written on bits of scrap paper
I shall lock away and then toss the key

My hand has retired, this last poem now penned
No more idyll thoughts of mind will transcend
Bereft of rhymes and abandoned of verse
This poet knows her time has reached an end

Ink no longer flows through my tunneled veins
Expressed emotions in poetry wanes
And when interred, on my stone I shall read,
"Reclusive poet" over my remains

****   ****   ****
Fourth of July, 2017
Broken Wings "R" Form

Copyright © Lin Lane | Year Posted 2017

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The Four Seasons

The Four Seasons…

It was spring and I was young when I had wine.
I was singing and dancing and doing fine. 
The wine was so divine, made my blossoms glow.
The spring is for the youth, makes everything shine.

Summer came and I was older, full of joy.
I was in love, and love taught me to enjoy.
I was flying, kissing, dancing having fun.
Didn't know that the end is there to destroy.

The autumn was yellow, tired, full of pain.
My garden was there but flowers lived in vain.
The nightingales departed, my youth as well.
I could not see the way, clouds were crying rain.	

Now is winter and winter promises cold.
I am there but alone, with no one to hold.
The garden is barren, empty, no more youth.
The only thing is there, is me that is old.

10/24/18 Haloo

This poem is in the form of "Rubaiyat", it is the plural form of Rubai. Rubai is a quatrain with rhyming of AABA. Each Rubai is a book by itself, it starts and ends within the quatrain, but when it's in a form of Rubaiyat, it follows the single theme with the same meter throughout. Poetrysoup has a good explanation of this format.

Copyright © Pashang Salehi | Year Posted 2018

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Tears from my Ancestors

I'll drink tears from my ancestors in silence
From history's cup of their defiance
I'll sit in darkness where my soul is torn
and quench my parched thirst of self reliance

To understand their hell and be reborn
Remembering iron shackles, blood stained, worn
My mind reveals stones from a slaver's wall
Crumbling through years from a past I mourn

I carry each stone to the master's wall
Pulled from stoney fields with blood as a shawl
I'll stand among ruins of an anguished time
With memories of tears, feeling them fall

I touch every scar as history is blind
Reach my hands upward, my spirit will climb
and free my caged soul so a healing comes
I'll drink tears from my ancestors so they remind

contest..Writing in a Black Perspective

Copyright © Frederic Parker | Year Posted 2015

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On Tranquil Lake

Glass-like smooth of even's yawn
    Just I alone and one cob swan
        Trace our paths upon the lake
            For we are OF the earth, not on

Sets the sun to blow a kiss
    A quiet glissade of feral bliss
        Cleaving surface, gentle wakes
            Surely heaven must be this?

Swan and I, we share the eves
    In feathered white tuxedo sleeves
        He follows as I row my skiff
            'Til either I or daylight leaves

I often muse he's lost like me
    Searching wide to find a she
        A kindred spirit, much like his
            That's longing for a mistral, free

The water's darkened interludes
    Reflect our images and moods
        Hopes of beaus we held this morn
            Sink with sun as day concludes

Ere we meet, when dusk is drawn
    I say a prayer that he'll be gone
        That one of us will find true love
            For we are OF the earth, not on.

~ 3rd Place ~  the "Beauty Of Solitude" Poetry Contest, Line Gauthier, Sponsor.

Copyright © Gregory R Barden | Year Posted 2017

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Slamming The Super-Duper-Soupers

you want to know a secret
when I write a poem and it's perfect
i dont share it
i bury it 
deep inside of me 
where no one else can see
i mean its perfect
not like this shift 
it's elegant, poignant, 
simplistic, bueatful 
trucking perfect
its not erotic 
but i read it
mentally masterbate to it 
a euphoric chorus 
straight form thesaurus
its just that great
im not being egotistical 
if read, it would become universal 
a meter tethered in clasical measure 
a rythmic flow
with many metaphoric undertows
an iconic harmonic tonic 
to make you feel like an embryonic hedonic youth 
im not being napoleonic
its an actual truth 
factually accurate
high in heaven
it produced a tear in the eye of god
who proclaimed 
not a single flaw
not a single flaw 
and he only saw what i wrote
well, because hes god 
me being me i like to tease 
allow me to be inclined to share a few lines 
blow your mind 
redefine your collective defective perspective
realign your ineffective respective connective tisue

"all my cows milk is homogenized 
all my crows are well organized
all my sheep like to stare and creep 
like to stare and creep"

but you'll never see 
the rest of my secret poetry 
that only exsist inside of me 
cows will always moo
crows will always ka kah 
sheep will always go baah baah baah 
and the perfect elagance 
of my literary inteligence 
will die with me 
never being seen 
qouted, memorised or plagerized 
as i will say with my last gasp 
the next line being twice my last
all you super-duper-soupers can kiss my ***

ok all you super-duper-soupers have been slammed. if you want to slam me back just a few things. make it funny. make it a little nonsensical and definitly make it over the top
and if you do slam me back send me a soup mail or leave a comment so i can go read your slam. 

Copyright © Nathan D. | Year Posted 2015

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Seems like I could be on top of the world.
I think about poetry like my tongue is pearled.
Just the other day I wrote a poem to honor another poet.
I spun around in a spin to unfurl to the Soupers whorled.
I know they think they’re the bombshell.
They are big headed and believe their words cast the spell.
They vortex puts us in a whirlpool.
They billow swells.
Soupers let’s keep it real.
The universe zeal.
We entertain each other with our thoughts.
Poetry is our appeal.
We write to regale.
Anything else considered is to no avail.
I laugh aloud.
Soupers the advantage is a tall tale.
I am here to share-out.
That there is such a thing as an amateur in the house.
I know many fill the title of a poet professional.
This is where real skills are grandeur and profound.
Soupers, the truth expose.
A writer’s right shows.
Angstrom to a wavelength, the brain thinks and the mind depicts.
As a Poetess, here I throw it to the wind; that it is you with the *******.

To the Souper who asked for a rebuttal to his slam.
Penned February 18, 2015!

Copyright © Verlena S. Walker | Year Posted 2015

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I Look to You

As flower to the sun, I look to you
As thirsty grass that drinks in drops of dew
As river flowing down to waiting sea
I live again with you a love that's true

I’m lost to life when nestled in your arms
Your lips, your eyes, your body full of charms
I enter softly in your shrine of dreams
My vow to wait the scent of you disarms

Your breath upon my body, how it thrills
Your mouth my hunger with your tongue it fills
I gasp for breath for I am overwhelmed 
Your pilgrim hands have reached the sacred hills 

I faint with pleasure as you touch inside
My fantasies lie bare and opened wide
You speak to me in urgent whispers low
A plea to let you taste of passion’s tide

Intense becomes the rhythm of our love
Your eyes devour mine from up above
I hold to you as both our souls break free
A blazing flight of eagle and the dove

As flower to the sun, I look to you
As thirsty grass that drinks in drops of dew
As river flowing down to waiting sea
I live again with you a love that's true

Eileen Manassian

Copyright © Eileen Manassian | Year Posted 2014

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A dragon's scale reflects the rounds of time
her heart, the subtle beat of love sublime
a secret kept in smoke and ancient bones-
a tale best told in whispered lines of rhyme.

She flies the crystal skies in silent tones
a burning hope of love is all she owns
forgotten visions lost in endless tales
and buried deep beneath the cobbled stones.

Remaining true beyond the mystic vales
her longing for soul's kinship never pales
though crushing eras weigh upon her name,
her eyes still scan the blue where hope still sails.

The day will dawn when once again her flame
will blaze along the sky and one will tame
rebellious spirit, and her heart reclaim
from solitude's dark grasp to light's domain.

Copyright © Kris Walters | Year Posted 2010

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Mother Nature

                  Mother Nature..

I see a mountain, wake me up there.
Tired of dreaming, no time to spare.
I will be flying soberly drunk.
I am just living, don’t ask me where.

There will be some light full of delight.
I am tired of darkness and night.
I will be drinking, drinking the dew.
Thanking the sunshine, shining so bright.

I am waiting and waiting to see.
Watching your sunset under a tree,
Seeking for wisdom, seeking your path,
Flying toward you, dancing with glee.

I am so lonely, sky is my friend.
Talking and smiling, so I pretend.
I will be seeing, you in my dreams.
Waiting and hoping how this will end.

Tell me where you are, I am abused.
Lots and lots of pain used and misused. 
Tell me what to do, I am so lost.
It is no wonder, I am confused.

4/16/2017    Haloo

* I named the painting " Mother Nature". It is acrylic on canvas.
I removed the painting so I can put a new one...

Copyright © Pashang Salehi | Year Posted 2017

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How can I drag myself without divine wine?
I am falling and I need, wine to be mine.
Being inebriated has its own joy,
To me heedless and headless both are just fine.

I am tired of me being without me.
The me left me and I don’t know where is he.
He is not me, where is he gone, he is missed.
I am not me, me is not him; who are we?

I am done with my faith, love, and devotion.
With this gray hair, my soul has no emotion.
Where is my bottle of wine, how much more pain?
I am done with desert drown me in ocean.

How much longer for my chalice to get filled?
How much more is enough before I get killed?
I came in, and I stayed, and now, it is time.
I must break from my cage that I didn’t build.

The sky is full of tears, it washes my pain.
To me best remedy is dancing in rain.
Am I going to dance once more as it rains?
Hope I will see the next year, and then complain.

The good and all the bad are kept within us.
If you have it, you will lose it, have no fuss!
The more you gain the more you lose when it's time.
Keep only love for good, not much to discuss.

7/10/2018 Haloo

This poem is in the form of "Rubaiyat", it is the plural form of Rubai. Rubai is a quatrain with rhyming of AABA. Each Rubai is a book by itself, it starts and ends within the quatrain, but when it's in a form of Rubaiyat, it follows the single theme with the same meter throughout. Poetrysoup has a good explanation of this format.

Copyright © Pashang Salehi | Year Posted 2018

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Expression Expressed

Why do I self-express and share, indeed?
          For I am but a "dark and troubled seed" ...
               And should my pen let loose upon a page
     You're apt to see that INK is what I bleed

I strive to layer phrases, fresh and free
          Breathtaking depth ... with ambiguity
               Using words in ways that paint a scene
     Not getting lost in too much imagery

I study all the greats and take to heart
          The classic script and detail of their art
               To blend it with a modern form, my own
     A trademark style, unique and set apart

I keep my child's heart in good repair
          And plunge my soul as deeply as I dare
               For both those aims are critical to verse
     And writing with an insight that is rare

To tell you straight, the talent isn't mine
          It comes from elsewhere, I am just a vine
               But blessed am I to have received the gift
     And humbled to be part of grand design

Still, if I had to give you just one jewel
          Imagination's STILL the grandest tool
               And if I could but give you just one MORE
     Incorporate in ALL ... the Golden Rule.    ;-)

~ 1st Place ~  in the "Why Would Your Self-Expression Matter To Others" Poetry Contest, Line Gauthier, Judge & Sponsor.

Copyright © Gregory R Barden | Year Posted 2018

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The beauty takes my breath away,
I know my kind will want to stay
On this new world that I have found -
It’s somewhere in the Milky Way.

The creatures of this wondrous place
Are scaly lizards, wild and base.
Such monstrous things must be destroyed
So we can spawn another race.

I take a sample of the turf,
Report the planet has such worth,
Then leave and freeze the world in ice
To kill these dinosaurs on Earth.

Copyright © jack horne | Year Posted 2011

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Of bud bossed delicate; in its aroma much will enfold!
The turbulence of youth; also the seasoned and the old.
Tetra pedes, cross pages, sober.. in black, throughout the ages
Oh! to pass to others this understanding; and in bold.

Manifold are images, ‘thrusting now fresh into flower,
To awareness, of precious cargo; as in life’s laden bower...’
Penta metron sketch outlines, though imperfectly employed;
I reach to the stars today; as yet passes my hour!...

Translucence shows within the fading of life’s colour
As this continuing expressive awaits its turn, of another!..
My thoughts fill like pages, to blossoms in bloom
A soft falling, as petals; to your earth, my sister & brother...

To re-count of life’s possibility's... in the Rubaiyat form;
Melding its grandeur; to the bland magnitude of today’s norm!
Opening in its intricacy, the doorway to ecstasy 
Playing many a cadence, relayed from its echoes borne.

Ever may its blossoms & completeness be flowering, 
Entwining with the lines of the sages, to forever cling!
Refreshing the heart; perhaps a world? now tired and worn.
To a climax of prosody, does this weave of true praises sing.

© Joe

I have added notes in the ‘To know more about this poem area’.

Copyright © Joe Maverick | Year Posted 2013

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In my innocence I went out into the world
Eager to learn all the lessons I can hold
The things I’d learn I’d love to share
Alas, people found me to be quite bold.

I distinctly felt the tension in the air
When I was little and went to a fair
It was outside the town where I grew up
People stared at us head to foot and kinky hair.

I shrugged my shoulders, I did not mind
I wanted to play with kids that were kind
But their folks did not like a colored child
Touch skin to skin with their children, later I’d find.

I learned the first lesson about discrimination
The hard way, from a small child’s perception
I will fight for my right with all my might
This I vowed unto myself with all determination.

And so from that day on, I pushed for emancipation
From the shackles of a closed mind, a liberation
How dare you think I'm lower than you are
When our blood is the same color red, under examination?

We have come a long way indeed, I know
For now we can vote, to a master we need not kowtow
Freedom from slavery, gained through sweat and blood
Our children can now speak without fear to friends or foe.

Greater minds have walked these hollowed halls
Than what I can aspire to be with my bold balls
However Sir, that won’t stop me honestly
From continuing to speak my voice, no matter you stall.

Now Sir, tell me, what is the reason you cannot grant
Before I make another speech, but not a rant
Is it not only fair that you declare equal rate
For black or white, as long as he deserves it, and not ignorant?

A black man's thoughts on the prevailing system where blacks are assigned to positions with predominantly lower rates.

17 March 2015
CONTEST : Writings in a Black's Perspective - 1st Place
SPONSOR : Verlena Walker

Copyright © KP Nunez | Year Posted 2015

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Dark Black Night

Once upon a midnight, ghostly, Partied many, dead ones mostly. Feasting in the graveyard, sprightly, White eyed werewolves gorged, engrossedly. In the bone yard, drab and squalid, Apparitions (staring stolid Neath the veiled moon, clouded lightly) Sought fresh bodies, lean but solid. Fiendish eyes shone, light and sparkly, Ghouls and demons danced so darkly. Maggots munching mush unsightly, Black blood streamed like ink, quite starkly. Fetid flesh oozed, flowing freely Through the crypt doors, cold and steely. Shadows, ashen, pranced contritely, Ebon serpents slithered eely. As it happens, all too often, Zombies dimly closed the coffin – Ra, the sun god, rising slightly Hunger pangs were soon to soften. If you ask, I’ll tell you blankly, When you’re feeling dark and dankly Come to where this happens nightly. They’ll enjoy the feast, quite frankly...

Copyright © Terry O'Leary | Year Posted 2012

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What the Mermaid Knows

The sea is aglow with her memories
Seaweed meadows of deep cave treasuries
Stories that summon the lost and curious
Legends embossed in silent reveries

She drifts the illumined waves of her home
Wide blue realms in which she may roam
Her spirit alive beyond undersea depths
In echoes of songs over silver - green foam.

What is it - what does the mermaid know?
Beyond the clouds and winds that blow
That she is woman and nature combined
This wisdom is hers- on all to bestow

I wrote this one for the contest 'Mermaids'
that I sponsored. The goal was to capture the essence
of a mermaid. There were many wonderful mermaid poems. 

Copyright © Suzanne Delaney | Year Posted 2014

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Play Not A Dirge When I Am Gone

Play Not A Dirge When I Am Gone

Play not a dirge when I am gone;
light no candles, not even one.
A treasured poem would be enough  
to mark my end when curtain’s drawn.

Hold no sad wakes to honor me
some happy poems, I’d rather be 
recited on a night for friends
then spread my ashes o'er the sea.

And wonder not nor be afraid
if less of love you have conveyed;
you’re part of me and that’s enough,
while life’s not fair, I’m not dismayed.

If comes a time that you remember
that one fine day in November,
then send a kiss toward the sea
and just forget this fly in amber.*

When I Am Dead My Dearest

by Cristina Georgina Rossetti

When I am dead, my dearest,
Sing no sad songs for me;
Plant thou no roses at my head,
Nor shady cypress tree:
Be the green grass above me
With showers and dewdrops wet;
And if thou wilt, remember,
And if thou wilt, forget.

I shall not see the shadows,
I shall not feel the rain;
I shall not hear the nightingale
Sing on, as if in pain:
And dreaming through the twilight
That doth not rise nor set,
Haply I may remember,
And haply may forget.

*fly in amber - noun, reminder of the past

No More Masks Contest
Sponsor: Catie Lindsey

Copyright © KP Nunez | Year Posted 2015

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Her Fairy Tale Came True

Fairy Hills are gone, with his curse, ruined.
Can this hero be greater than her sin?
Did Father, forgive? He was her desire -   
Oh Tam Lin, of stories, you beguile again!                             
Woods are now suburbs, we are far from home.
Slip into their minds, creep behind their roam.
Past’s visions will be life’s reality.
Legend leads us where fool's hearts cleave and comb.   

Climb into their world, leave behind your woes.
Hide ‘neath trembling leaves from past pains and foes.
Search their soulful tale, embrace ecstasy.
Taste the nectar sweet where flowers did grow.

Open light forbids you and I to share
intimacy of our skin warm and bare.
Like those lover's torn, l hold your heart and hands,
softened by light eyes under dark brown hair.

Oh just like Tam Lin, I’d save you again,
far from city's eyes, we’ll live in the glen.
A woman and a girl, I'm with child of yours,
standing brave with you, our love, I’ll defend!

Our lovechild kicking strong beneath my heart
is condemned by those who want us apart.
She connects our love, forbidden by two worlds 
as we plan our lives making a new start.

Fairy Hills are gone, with our curse, ruined.
Are we two heroes now greater than our sin?
I forgive myself; in our joy, I’m free -
With tolerance and love, doors will be opened!


Copyright © Rhonda Johnson-Saunders | Year Posted 2015

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Above the Fray

Above the pristine, blue lake mountains stand
Shrubs and yellow flowers surround on land
Could this be heaven?  Garden of Eden?
Reflection in water is of God’s hand

I visit here to cast the world away
An inspiring way to spend the day
My pad and pen are toted to this site
Where I’ve time to think beyond society’s fray

For you will find no conflict at this site
And often I linger here through the night
Nary a creature has threatened me here
Nature in harmony, such a delight

Written for John Freeman’s Rubaiyat contest and based on his lovely photo of 
nature’s beauty.

Copyright © Diane Locksley | Year Posted 2011

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Black roses sprawl, to droop, then fade raking tendrils of her attic’s shades; a brief display which glints inked nights only for time’s sake, buds do parade. How fleeting the luster of stems’ arms, between weeping dusk and chilled sun twigs crack like love's farewell --sad moon, a wish-- the fragrance of bliss gone. She digs remnants; gazing afar perhaps to cuddle ringlets of star, that hides dawn’s lamp from memories instead her eyes reflect more scars. Though pain mocks unbecoming heart a young bough nestles on ground's arc; granting reprieve in place of tears to kindle sparks for dance to start. Open Poetry Contest Sponsor: Charlotte Puddifoot 7/12/2015

Copyright © nette onclaud | Year Posted 2015

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Led to Eden

For so long you’ve been hiding from me in seclusion Wise Muse, I must gasp as I make an intrusion I know your plan was to lead me to such splendor Now I inhale a spiritual transfusion While struggling in a world of carnal illusion I needed to accept grace for absolution Stone mountains, yellow flowers and a cool, clear lake Have led me to ponder thoughts of adoration There are times when the world’s harshness cuts like a knife We lose too many moments focusing on strife Above those azure skies, our Savior smiles down And leads us to an Eden of eternal life Inspiration now flows through my pen thanks to You In this serene outpost, my spirits will renew Natural beauty is one of Your greatest gifts The dawn of a blessed new age may now ensue
*Entry for John Freeman's "Rubaiyat Form" contest

Copyright © Carolyn Devonshire | Year Posted 2011

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Love is

                          Love is..

Alas people believe in stories and lies.
   They insist on the book written in disguise.
I am tired of teaching what the truth is. 
   How can you see the truth with those blinded eyes?

A thousand stories and none make any sense.
   The burning bush that was talking so intense.
Many thousand years has passed and we still kill,
   The seekers of heaven spend at great expense.

If you wanted to see his beloved face,
   the things you seek should be love, beauty and grace.
Polish your own mirror until you see love,
   the truth is love, the God is love, you embrace.

If you find beloved lover that you seek,
   The love will be the language that he will speak.
Make your heart as the target for love and peace.
   Without love, the strongest person is so weak.


Copyright © Pashang Salehi | Year Posted 2016

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My trauma wears the black cloak of night I breathe rapid, heaving sighs of fright Wind is sucked out, my sails gasp in hollow air Bronchi in knots, constriction so tight! Descending darkness with its chill and freeze Lungs pumping storms with a whistling wheeze The drying out reservoir of sustaining oxygen As I struggle to inhale fresh breeze. Spasms haunt my black nights with an alarming persistence Threatening to cut short the chord of existence Draining vigor and vitality, gripping wind pipe in a choke hold Viperous asthma spews venom with vengeance! Panting, doubling over, chest congested with rattling cough Breathless but determined I grope about in darkness, battling Just one puff away from agony, I desperately rummage Magic potion inhaler among medication, mottling! The devil disappears at the first touch of sun ray A little shaky still, yet I waltz through my day Each unobstructed breathe seems like a gift from Heaven Before night fall I shall rid the ghost off my way! 21/09/2012

Copyright © Yesha Shah | Year Posted 2012

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No One

Silent screams no one hears
Tired eyes filled with tears
Gut wrenching heartache no one feels
Emotions dark enough to kill
Mental exhaustion no one sees
Strong enough it hurts to breathe
An answer seekin no one speaks
A language spoken without speech

Copyright © Bessie Kolb | Year Posted 2012

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Night spills over the day like India ink from a well
bleeding into the deep crevasses of hill and dell
running into clear cold streams once shimmering, bright 
painting Prussian blue the trees on the high chaparral.

Night edges the golden hour of Autumn days so bright 
merging with the harvest moon, the solstice at midnight
melting in to sleepy hollows, pale and bloodless blue, 
cajoling colonies of bats to bank and soar in flight.

Night caresses the winsome lovers silhouette.. adieu 
as its hold is weakened toward a shade of baby-blue
A painter's pallet is the night of hues, shades of light
the sovereign signs of fantasy as darkness ensues.

*Interlocking Rubaiyat where the rhyme of lines 1,2&4
of verse one are taken from the end word of line 3
in the verse before, the last verse returns the end rhyme
of line 3 ;)

Copyright © Debbie Guzzi | Year Posted 2012