Best Saturnine Poems
Beyond the sun's celestial dominion,
past purple shimmers of twilight,
I delve far beyond moonlight's golden glow
into the darkness of pilloried memories,
continually searching for answers but fail to find
those that keep my heart fettered in chains.
Within my restless sleep reveries trespass,
flowing through saturnine channels of my mind,
flooding my heart until only sorrow remains
with pensive images I thought I'd left behind.
I'm blinded, not by the bloom of starlight,
but by bewildering moments in time.
Dismal are the murky shadows looming
in the corners of these cavernous hollows.
They hover over my drubbing heart,
whispering taunts in descending echoes.
I grow impatient to end their clamor.
High is the morning's rushing tide,
reaching its frothy fingers out for me.
I rest on grains of moist ochre sand,
winnowing far beyond the limits
of disconsolate bereavement.
It's here that Autumn's demise
wears a shroud of withered leaves.
I lie quietly, waiting to close my eyes,
my tormented heart lingering in grief
that has haunted me since long ago.
As the sun begins its ascent from the sea,
dawn disturbs my quest for eternal peace.
October 8, 2022
2022 Marathon Mile 16 Contest
Sponsored by Mark Toney
~~~~~~~~~
Originally posted on 10~20~2016
Labyrinth paths, winding and twisting, a serpentine meandering,
otherworldly, ethereal, much too dreamy, lost and wandering;
saturnine, long raven sparkling hair that I hide behind, woefully,
tangled in the branches and thorns of life, lost hopelessly.
And then I found poetry and I pen my sorrow in verses bleeding,
now I swirl with beautiful words and send them in the universe, soaring;
writing my sadness is intoxicating, but also it can be a dreadful curse hurting,
prisoner of the past, locked in chains, can I begin to reverse, be a new me changing.
Entwined in words that I put away, I found them still waiting,
with a painful heart, I write my tangled, thorny journey, my hand trembling;
unraveling the weave of chaotic corridors in my life, I fall to my knees, praying,
oh will others love my verses penned, will they weep sadly when I write the aching?
In the shady silent forest, a shimmering snake seeks it's sanctuary, slithering,
beautiful definitely, and like the iridescent snake, I hide lost intentionally;
hidden, safe, melancholy, until the sun has found my soul delicately,
labyrinth paths, winding and twisting, a serpentine meandering;
___________________________
February 3, 2016
Acrostic/Mono Rhyme/Alliteration/Internal Rhyme
Copyright Protected, ID 16-751-710-0
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
Theme chosen, Lost and Found
Written for the contest, 4 x 4 Pairing, Master Rhyme,
sponsor, Silent One
Second Place
I
I am disinfected, sanitised from touch and eyes
Do not hold me. I am Bakelite and you smolder
Sat solid, the wall cold against my spine. A back-rest
To concrete electrocution.
I am distilled from Suburbia and Bohemian at Brandenberg
Rigid and saturnine. Heavy lidded Lichtenstein moons
And ruby lip and cheek.
Dumb-flustered and silent rictus
Nothing changes.
II
She edges closer with ostentatious mute steps. Like a bride
And thrice as white with crimson orb flowing underneath
Her caped wings and paper hat. Tiny dragging movements
As though her legs could snap
This marionette matchstick girl unfurls her bouquet of fingers intertwined
And ruffles from her drapes fragments of paper and a tiny plastic cup
I do not notice her. The bleach sticks heavy to the throat and
She envenoms me to the core stomach
She speaks. It is static heavy and foriegn, black-lipped vowels and dull
Continuations of barely literate sounds.
My words are daggered brutes, any poetry the less of my expectations
Is instantly meaningless, crass, common, nauseous and disgusting
Her flowing prose was illegible on those lips. Sounding almost spat
I could have silenced nine decades to my two and circled her in criticism
She would never understand with her barely-English cold translations of her
Own English mother-tongue.
III
People are fascinating
Occassionally
I find I look at them and linger, I study them and calculate their complex algebras
Undoubtedly we are products of our parents and the less of us by-products
We are strings and apples and figs
The woman with her ghost-white face and dress. Her parents were too strict
You can see it in her face, how if you even turn away her eyes circle with bags
And she feels lost, she could cry a thousand summers and undoubtedly should trade my place.
As of my own parents they probably loved me too much. Sheltered me and then
Stopped abrupt as death and cyanide fizzing
Suddenly trading my lineage into friendship and smiles and no, do silence yourselves
I am a maypole and the strings circle about me
Life and ambition they feed upon me, draining me in complex nervous disorder
I am a living question mark
I can feel it
Eating below my skin.
Written: October 1st 2023
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
In the ocean of silence, I’m stunned
Astonish by its grandeur as I descend.
A comely curtain of conciliatory calm
Elapse the chaos, surreptitious and warm.
In the hushed embrace of the twilight sky,
A silence plummets, ambrosial all nearby.
Astonied hearts stand in solicitous awe.
A comely night implies her ethereal flaw.
Emollient whispers waft into the air.
Surreptitious secrets are shared with care.
Incipient stars start their gentle wafture,
Surreal leaves create a ripple in nature.
Mellifluous melodies mend meteoric might,
Fugacious flimsies that fizzle out of a fight
Gossamer moonbeams cast their diaphanous glow,
Creating an aura of silence, tranquility, and bestow.
Ineffable fairness, fiercely feisty, not frigid,
The break of dawn silenced, as if timid.
Saturnine secrets shrank in secrecy.
Stupendous silence slides, sinewy spree.
Lull launders, looping the limp land,
As warblers start with a duteous band,
Sullen clouds gather, ominous and dark.
Yet awestruck hearts find solace in calm remarks.
Reassuringly, the heavy silence lingers.
Dour faces are glum, yet prudent fingers
Guide the oxymoron of emotions that flow,
Glowering and divine in their quiet glow
In the gloomy hush, discretion gleans hold,
As discerning minds decry peace in the fold,
The prudent ones, with a discreet glance,
Understand the power of silence dance.
Glum faces settle in quiet repose.
Views deepen, and worries dispose
Astounded by stillness, they are in awe.
Of absolute peace that stillness can draw.
Awestricken by the amorphous depth it brings,
They decry solace in the lull that silence sings.
A curtain of calm tumbles, amazed and serene.
As the amorphous depth of quiet is felt and seen.
Inauspicious cruxes balmily soothe fears.
As diaphanous whispers softly, quell tears.
Hinky hearts hearkens a hypothesis behind,
A voice uttered, "Love silence will never hide".
No query or qualm can squeal this bond.
Silence is where my peace is dulcet fond.
In the hushed embrace of the twilight sky,
Silence reigns, and my love will never die.
When her presence trod the oak-hewn boards,
barefoot on the bees wax, lyrical on the shine,
the cypress calm coughed ruffle of her dress,
soaking slapped applause, her heart raged saturnine.
Thus before the altar of the grand,
when silence fell the expectation soared,
precisely correlated to the bated through,
cut musical astrology with every silver chord.
Carved of the detailed crystal shards of sound,
with fingers dipped in symmetry and fire,
each avalanche crescendo stilling breath,
perfection wrought from ivory and wire.
And as she mourns of marrowbone and men,
coitus with the discipline’s demands,
her metronomic thought has cause to dwell
on what possession haunts her phantom hands.
KILLER
Saturnine sleeper of the night,
Soaring slowly, out of sight,
Sleekly shadowing the gloom,
Silent harbinger of doom,
Innocent assassin, surreptitious, sly,
Stainless scandal slipping by,
Scything swiftly through the dark,
Hark the herald warning: Shark.
The sky is stark, the air is cool and still
The black cat’s run, the birds unfold all day
I sit down here and with my totty pray
Ye cast o’ foolish thoughts, you raped my will.
We’ve each enraged the bureaucratic mill.
Oh frigid purse, I never meant to pay!
The sky ‘s a-spark, the air is warm and shrill
The saturnine demoted knelled their way
With this feathered pounce, my sample quill,
I cite the cheque and date it for next May.
Oh, tit for cat, the tiger’s bed ‘s astray.
Yer life is settled by a harlot’s will
The sky ‘s a shark, the air is sharper still.
Watch me wail, wag, and whimper,
as I lag, lumber and limber,
my adult algebraic ass umption of
love lorn lustful,
pussy prison promise
fake, Falk, filters
when married daughter
becomes married mother, and OMFG
whatTFdidIgetmyselfinto
Low behold and singlefold
did I not gender gather your life
long life presence of parental
pontification that goes without
sooth saying and add up the numbers
so I can fill the male bill of plenty and request
a not/known knowing of a pre determined
prowess bliss saturnine, coital countered
cock tailed by a mean mom mesmerized miracle
of anointed via viscious ugly
uncountered societal socio so
somnablance satial sickness.
Leave me to the beaver, and the
outer limits of my twilight zone, so I can
rifleman my bonanza to a naked city
where it takes a thief to enable
Burkes Law to Mod Squad a Perry Mason, then Ironside
a manner of justice, sometimes relying on
an alternative form from Super M to Spider M,
and Hulk, then hashtag from A to Z and all letters
in between. As a man and a father with only earthy talents
I gave all that I knew, could harness, muster, and deliver as best as I knew how.
Criticize me my sons, for all what u will
as I tried my best to keep u in my still
u r the future of what is to remain
all that I have, is now yours to gain,
Rememberance is constant and our lives relate
in us all as we move forword and procreate
in keeping us in toll. Lifelines are the key to
all that is mindful and longevity unlocks
the male mantle of forever. Live long and prosper
my sons and in all things look, listen and remember.
All avenues are amphibious arenas
Bubbles belch-burst, bitter Bacchanalian bombs
Clouds' cast-iron crescendo creates cold cantankerous caricatures
Drenched - darkness descending, daylight dying, disappearing duskwards
Every eye echoing every eye, emotional evidence enveloped
Fake furs, fashionable fools, firm friends fleeing flowing firmament
Garrulous girls giggle, grizzled gangsters get going, gravity gyroscopes - ginormous gloomy grey gusts!
Hapless Harry's hairpiece hovers, hesitates, hovers higher, hurriedly he hopes he has his hat,
Intimate iciness infiltrates irrepressibly inside,
Jaunty Jack's japery, just jaded January jokes - jigsaw justice
Kilted killers, kleptomaniac kangaroos...
Lame laughs, low lamplight, laser liquid lines lash lustfully
Mercurial miasma mercilessly merging, mournful men mutter miserably
Nobody needs niceties, navigating newspapers, nothing new now
Ordered out over oof owed, obstinately offering old objections
Pavement pool-puddles pose problems, precautions probable, prayers perhaps...
Quintessential questing queens querulously quarrel,
Rain rushes relentlessly, rudely, rapaciously
Sizzling, steaming, slip-sliding silhouettes, soaked saturnine suits seething
Terry the tiger-tamer, tastefully tattooed, taking time talking tactfully to trembling tramps
Undernourished underpass underclass, underwhelmed under useless ubiquitous umbrellas
Vulgar victors, vim-vigour-verve, voraciously vanquished, vanity virulently violated,
Waistless waifs, wasted wastrels, wrestle with wicked westerly winds
X-rayed, X-rated
Yesterday's youngsters yellowing, yawning, yearning
Zero zest. Zilch.
There is a you-shaped hole in my life,
And nothing I can do to fill it;
She sits as a cardboard cut-out in the room,
Black as space, twinkling critical stars
Studded, blinking in her outline.
A peregrine falcon flies across the sun,
And is gone,
As that sun implodes, turning black
In the fabric of time,
Comets trail-blaze and die out
Beyond the visible frame.
The you-shaped hole just sits with
An eyeless stare, full of emptiness,
Infinite cosmos of useless parallels,
Universes impotent with saturnine debris.
It speaks in volumes of silence,
Wastelands of verbiage,
And in the end as I look
Deeper
Becomes my own reflection.
Who what when where, which what kind how many whose, is am are was were be being
been, have has had do does did, shall will should would, may might must can could,
7th grade English, Ms Auman where do u get off postering yr silly salient syallable sanctions on
promising pious poets lurking longingly to properly pronounce your prodigious pounces
rather than straight line serious shooting sonerous sequential sentients telling it like
it really is from ther gutheart grunt grant gifting rather than a premeasured premise
to soothe satisfy your fragile forlorn poetic pompous estorgen ego eccentric. Really?
Relenteless? Ridiculous reality revealing a riotious retention of re rememberance of
rat rightous ridicule. A poem is comprised full alphabetic freedom from
conscious convention conviction
crossed dispelled dimensions of saturnine rejections real and supposed. Take it for what it is and post ponder the real unreal ramifications of thought
prepostpotential patterns. Sit back and enjoy the creative
capacity of people speaking in
an opened consciousness psyche unintruded soul unsacrificed
personna personnified and above all, a humanes helplessly
hovering hoping to hang tightly revealingly a titntilating tomboy
tantrum of blessed bromines brimising blatant blanks of
alphapoeticmirrordramatic ddemeanors destined to outendure
conspicous crappy crude criminal conventions that
serve to stupifystiffle the regal real relentless requirements
of just say it like it is baby, skip the sentient beligerent bulls--t ahole aplenty.
Avenged adult world
Fishy funny kids’ play world
The saturnine feast.
Sorcerous* Nox night
Lone places yawn hell pervades
global fun-disease
Ghosts grovel and then wolves weep
Goblins grin skeletons sway
Thus the streets savaged
*********
* Roman goddess of night
======================
Date: 28th Sept'13
Dr. Ram Mehta
Contest: Everything Halloween by Russell Sivey
There are meanderings who itch and creep
To fill my night with dread.
There are cataclysms where I cringe and cower
That are better left unsaid
And there's an apparition to slake my very soul
Standing menacingly aside my bed.
A miasmal shadow whose form and substance
Seems porous with a brooding discontent.
A vaporous spook from a now empty hoary grave
Crying out some death-bed held lament.
I tremble at this ghastly wretched haunting unsure
How to appease this ghoulish malcontent.
Is it an harbinger of some impending doom
That awaits me in the night?
Or a bleak warning of a tenebrous dark abyss
In dire need of an earthborn sacrifice?
Or a horrific memory of a forgotten transgression
I have conveniently put away from sight?
Its eyes lock in a gaze of sinister desperation
As I search for some meaning to aspire.
But what I see leaves me morose and sullen
As the reflection broods a hellish brimstone fire.
And I turn away with a feeling of minacious fear
Not knowing the spirit's saturnine desires.
This haggard phantom stretches its bony claw
And wails like a banshee twice possessed.
Pointing an accusing finger in my direction
With some long held grievance to address.
It screams in hideous tones, "Beware! Beware!"
Which it most fervently expressed.
"Beware! Beware!" It howls in repressed anger
As I rest my weary eyes.
And through the night it wallows in acute agony...
Lashing out a mournful cry.
But I eventually grow somewhat accustomed
And it becomes a type of doomsday lullaby.
The days and weeks are now three long years
And it continues its nightly shrieking of regret.
But no one said creatures from the spirit-world
Would be straightforward or direct.
I am at an impasse with this ghostly apparition
And remain confused and quite perplexed.
I am oblivious to whatever spectral information
This bit of ectoplasm seems to know.
And the creature appears in no discernible hurry,
But to be honest... I would miss its nightly show.
So until we come to a far better understanding...
I have a place to hang my clothes.
The End
*Follow my cartoon on Webtoon Bob's your Uncle.
Vermilion tears down an angel's cheek,
Sorry to say, did not dry this very week;
Rather, turning to rust as devil deals
Lust, a thrust, parlay, iniquity steals.
Indulge in saturnine preludes to this
The dark interludes in a crimson kiss
Bleed hell and cry blood for a twist
They sneak and walk among deepening bliss.
They look to kill Christ again, auguring a
Warning, heed heaven's call to halt decay
Show reverence for the ecclesiastic
Kiss the clay, and the mold is fantastic.
Trust that guide, drawing lightning in the back
Calling forward to the front of the pack;
Love all your brothers, for then you can trust
They too cry them, colored in muddy rust.
On that day my soul grew midstream, midstream;
I threw my Antarctic upon the floor;
They are perfumed from unseen sunken breams;
There Venusian's underscored treasures;
Take all that’s from out my heart does measures;
Oceans surrounding submissive pleasures;
I heard a domestic, marine oiling;
My small mouth bass, I could not awaken;
Seas crave the endogenous, temps boiling;
Sharp tooth sharks swim for fish for the taken;
Darken shadowed waters covered stricken;
Sea starfish broken dead floating silken;
In their stepped a vibratory sea bass;
Shark bate, I crave the saturnine south seas;
An echo from ocean floor hollered back;
above and below ocean mangrove trees;
also threw my whiting on shore of seas;
Was standout, breakout stout watery breeze;
When thinking of underwater ocean
Think seaweed in liquid torrent motion ?
3/30/19
Urban Sonnet Poetry Contest
Sonnet poetry form only.
Sponsored by: Emile Pinet