Best Sibylline Poems
Part 3: AT HEAVEN’S GATES
To set Her free from destiny was far from my design,
but, though unplanned, I touched Her hand to give Her peace of mind.
She told me then, and then again, that providence Divine
had cast a curse, and even worse: despised by all mankind,
She walked alone, unseen, unknown, Her soul incarnadine.
To break this spell of living hell, of loneliness enshrined,
and end Her days within the haze, a sole redeeming deed
would give reprieve and maybe leave our destinies entwined -
Her final quest be put to rest if only I agreed,
but no surcease nor perfect peace nor hope if I declined.
The shadows, shawled in silence, crawled, the night Her fate was sealed
as vespers tolled across the wold beneath the muted fog.
The heavens cracked and sorrow slacked as chimes of children pealed
while in the hills (where midnight chills) there wailed a daemon dog -
with no delay I lead the way, the path to Potter’s Field.
Her weathered face was lined with Grace, Her eyes shone emerald green.
With me as guide She stepped inside to grieve and mourn Her loss,
and thereupon, though pale and wan, the night took on a sheen.
With weary eyes as Her disguise, She placed a wooden cross
upon a mound (unhallowed ground) and whispered ‘Sibylline...’.
A falling star flared in the far and burst, a bolide flame -
beneath the light, the Final Rite no longer hid undone.
And kneeling there in silent prayer, we seemed to share the shame
but could atone if left alone, forevermore as one.
Before we both could breathe an oath, I asked Her once Her name.
Through lips, pale red, She simply said ‘Some called me Abigail’,
and neath a birch where white doves perch, I took Her for my bride,
beheld Her smile a little while, but all to no avail...
Her cloak and cape, and shrivelled shape lie empty at my side...
for now She waits at Heaven’s Gates, not far beyond the Pale.
birch silver
sibylline witch wood
leaves pristine
4/29/18
The two-lane road stretches
through a shimmering glaze
to the horizon, passing
smokestacks of mesas spewing
clay and maize in vaporous mass.
I hear the sibylline whisper of rain
through emerald brush
and serpentine hiss
of slithering sand.
The acrid smell permeates
evergreen and purple sage,
carries the aroma
with fine dust.
I point my thumb west,
a prayer for a willing traveler
to whisk me away
from the cumulative downpour
when the desert paint
floods umber in the gullies.
They have the look of lovers-
It is the tenderness of his tone when he tells of her
It is his fingertips trailing the curve of her bare shoulder
And lingering along her arm and
The small of her back-
It is in the rush
of color to her cheeks, the blush
And twist of her lips, the roll
and thrust of her hips when
She knows he is there-
It is the ripple and toss
Of her hair, it is the loss
Of his breath in her sighs
It is the touching of their eyes-
It is the sibylline heat
Of the words they don't speak
It is the rough of his hands claiming her skin
It is the line of her neck, the lift of her chin
It is his obsession to say her name again
And again, and again-
Written: January 20, 2024
___________________________________________
Sibylline stammer upswells
I'd explore my innermost self
My precious blue earplugs,
which I dropped in 6th grade,
Will be retrieved as I seek zealous bliss
an elusive state seems to evade me,
seldom beyond brief cameos.
A friend got me a sadness box,
and years later, I felt it was his finest gift,
I'd start on a quest to find my jejunity spirit,
Innocence without current anguish
I aspire to recover my purity.
Once eternal faith in various altruism won,
alas, I intend to revive my heart
with a firm faith in a transcendental force.
I'd painstakingly dig for my roots-my core
that molded my identity,
I doubt I can reveal these gems,
a box of sights might be full and unfathomable.
If I find these elusive things,
my propensity to sustain them is dubious,
even in its brittle grace, Earth is iffy,
for squandering what is precious.
But my glance would persist,
I believe that remaining hopeful is crucial,
against allegedly overwhelming odds.
I may not recover everything I lost,
my genuine self may be detected,
since that's all that matters.
Boost the gleam and dazzle
sibylline embers shine in the gnome jade
spangled goddess sparkle
It meshes cosmic toggles of
golden clusters
on the burning dusk of a phoenix's wings.
chorus tunes that croon kudos.
peel away.
shepherds and seraphim
translucent term chorus
with cerulean rhythm
amidst the ictus of an elfish presong.
my pulse quickens.
fresh dawn awakens
happy new year 2023
Written: January 03, 2023
YOUR CHOICE 2023 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Brian Strand
Written: March 08, 2023
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Open the ledger, it's spring,
From that chasm as they'd frozen
Those days suddenly reappear
Died on your lips as they appear,
We have shared countless kisses
Roses return, exhibiting your scent;
They are the heart of your lover
Anguish reappears, I sense my pain
Sorrow of forgotten friends.
With arms of moon-silver
Strokes of long-lost ladies
I peruse every single page,
Answers are not available
And it's springtime yet again
creating identical queries
Reopening specific accounts.
Nestled in the gentle pastels
Of the softly sparkling dusk
My soul beams as I gaze alone
Softly throwing a kiss
Swaying with the evening breeze;
A tender kiss whispered,
A question sealed in the grip of desire,
A soft murmur of my thirst.
With each strand of yearning,
Persistent within my soul
Here's a kiss, a hidden secret
Across the expansive gap
It holds all my aspirations
My dreams my serene queries;
A sibylline serenade, full of love
I fail to disguise.
The desire in the air is palpable,
With the kiss rising lift,
A hopeful dance, a ballet of love
They swing with grace and extravagance
They glide across the starry sky,
Under the dulcet kiss of a full moon
A fetching fervor flock this trip
Passion runs deep.
With each web of my being
I embody this warm embrace,
Hoping it goes beyond the space
And discovers your purest grace,
I've given my heart with this kiss
An appeal for you to grip;
My passion runs deep
And my feelings for you.
Sweet September, see how splendidly she shines!
Subtlety submitting seasonal splendour, she
swamps summer’s splendiferous sights,
by stealthily shrouding splendid scenery,
with suffused sensuous, sybaritic, scenarios!
Sublimely serene, she spatters and splashes
slivers of saffron, sepia and sienna shades,
slapdash over the sedentary summer scene, sending
sightseers silly! Soon, spooky spectres sporting skittish
shadows, surprise and startle singularly sensitive givens,
seeking soothing solitude someplace. Suspicious solo
sentient stalkers, suspecting solo sailors sometimes, shiftily seen
spying on sequestered sibylline, spectator savants, stay silent.
Such suppressed servile sophisticates, spotting smart
Seedy Senators, sitting sloppily slumped - some silently
supine - send sensual suggestive signs to sexy secretaries, as
subdued sartorial suitors stand speechless. Some, sober and staid,
state spasmodic spates of salacious, and sometimes sanctimonious, statements.
Seemingly superfluous, scores of servicemen and seniors suggest
specific superficial senile support services, should shut shortly!
Studious spokesmen suggest scads of spurious suggestions in September,
send scrambled signals, since severely symbolic sentence structure,
should seek speedy severance from sedulous speculative stricture, and
stimulating scattered sophomore senses and sensibility is senseless!
Since scathingly scanning this alliteration, it seems successful!
Hopefully a fun filled frolicking folio with ‘fin-esse?’
Rhymer. September 6th, 2016.
Far off, foreboding, doleful, true,
October's blood moon soars in view.
It speaks from raven, star-strewn skies
prophetic warnings for our eyes.
This night, to sage and seer known,
yields wisdom from your twilight throne.
Your crimson presence speaks in mime
sibylline missives for our time.
All eyes behold your burnished face
a-flight on its nocturnal trace.
Should we fear times both bleak and dire
as twilight burns with your cool fire?
And as your cryptic visage, red
stared back, the eastern stars did dread.
We feared celestial spheres would quake
to see night's crimson rune awake.
Ecliptic passing in our sight
on this apocalyptic night.
Twice in one year we've seen you swoon.
You haunt us, lonely, sanguine moon!
Blood Moon II
***written after second blood moon of
2014.
Written: December 27, 2024 For Contest Sponsored by: Hilo Poet
_________________________________
At dawn of a place cocooned once in avarice
silver-haired savvy savor sweetness
serene symphony of silliness...
Each echo is adorned
in mirrors of moments whilom
Still, the illness remains a threat
Silhouettes shaped by streetlight gloom.
Luigi Mangione delivers an arcane calix
crestfallen at awe-in junction of cathartic pain,
mark of jeopardy, spirits who stumbled
amid intricate twists of a complex web
where wellness waltzs whimsically as demon
sibylline, errorless, and suave
flimsy fusion of flux and mellifluous maunder.
Let us linger in lurched odds of yeender,
covenant, of concept, and courtesy
firm freedom fetching fairness for all.
seeking serenity in the scripts of statutes.
Yet we wonder, wrapped in a
whirlwind of wearying red tape
frailty of fitness, a puzzling paradox
where reviews reverberate as an epiphany
as doctors and designs decide the merit
yesterday's valiant victors,
confront morrow's troubling disregard.
Oh, the convoluted challenges of continuing!
a clock clicks constantly in the foreground
each tick teases the transience of time
whilst systems swirl swiftly shift and shape
to the tempo of transition, a thrum of turmoil
In a society that shuns, or selects to shun,
figures featuring fervent faces, fates at stake.
We stand strong, side by side, in such a struggle
amid a wave of apathy and regulations
the price of wellness is presented plainly
a burden of broad-based break bears our back
yet, we discover dynamism in togetherness
a steadfast strength of souls have survived storms
in chuckles of cherished seniors, once more liberated.
As we ascend from the abyssal katabatic,
let us linger on the lessons learned
a frailty of life, a grace of guardianship
and let Luigi’s manifesto heard an odyssey
a clarion call for a fairer future
where the weak are warmly welcomed
and the whispers of a wretched world
weave a wondrous wave of wellness.
Mirrors of Truth Fear Us Not;
Reflections in you we seek.
BARE not the fruits of truth,
As prudentia of our vanity unmasked.
Oracle of fear;
To thee we attend at birth;
To thee we see not at death;
O! sibylline Natalis come forth.
Lead us within,
Where idle your light awaits;
Though with indignation we bow,
Unisons we rise.
Eternal we Are,
REFLECTIONS!
Just another Sunday on the Sunset Strip
Where a country concert had taken a grip
People had flocked from all around
To listen to their favourite sound
Josh and his buddies were up on stage
Their twangling guitars did the audience engage
Many in the crowd were singing along
With every plaintive and pert song
No happier scene in any mind's eye
Would,later recalled,fetch a contented sigh
This was the show they had saved to attend
This was sadly where for many it would all end.
High overhead in his hotel room
A tortured mind had prepared their doom
His road trip to Mandalay
Was filled with intent to slay
A plan that had long festered in his brain
To contemplate inflicting untold pain
All around him lay guns and ammo
Ready to put an end to this happy show
He coldly and cruelly bided his time
Before choosing the moment to commit his crime
Once he had them in his sights
Then began their panic stricken flight.
His staccato typewriter spelled out fear,pain and death
In vain many scattered,stood stock still and held their breath
Down they went,falling under his relentless fire
Stunned,shaken and shot in their country attire
Glee must have been dancing in his twisted head
At seeing so many of his targets lying dead.
What was it that flipped this quiet man's switch within
To trigger the damnable flaw of original sin?
Did Stephen Paddock yearn to go out in a blaze of glory?
Was it that which fuelled this so tragic story?
Before he turned his weapon against his own life,
Did he then regret causing such avoidable strife?
Sibylline in their veracity
Were the words of the prophecy
That the crowd would perish that very night
Before the speaker was hustled out of sight
If a shiver went through those who heard
They dismissed her as being just weird
Predictably ignoring her rambling warning
The report echoing in the headlines next morning
We're all an energetic force
maintaining it is the source
We're not made to be weary
reach down wow that's synergy
Our thoughts can wear us down
turn this rumination around
Let that light flow through
our body and mind in view
Tepid temperature is the ticket
as the water flows through a spigot
So wrap your heart around spirituality
and let its flood shape to bilaterally
This is my ethereal prophetic nature
do these things and ride on this portraiture
Immanent Yet Transcendent 9-29-23
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Immanent Yet Transcendent
Above the plodding, sightless mediocre
A latent embryo breathes,
Awakens the murmurs of the inbred orphic harbinger
Through tangled threads of colorless mesh
Serendipity stirs, sets in motion,
Spirals
Above the weary path of habitual self interest
Clogged with lumbering thistles of numb routine,
Where midnights wrestle with starving angels,
A deafening humdrum drumming cadence
Clumbers in oblivion with trudging boots
Over rusty cauldrons of mediocrity
And dreary depths of decomposed sludge
Fed with blind self-interest.
Yet, the dust of the mystical hovers -
Intrinsic inbred breath of creation
Drags dawdling ordinary
Into spirals of whirling inspiration,
Into sibylline sight beyond near-sightedness,
By the cryptic, subtle tickle of grace -
Into hovering empathetic realms -
Exploding heart driven revelation
Unfurls into celestial magnificence -
A spark glowing in the debris of impotent possibility
Impregnates the embryonic hero of every soul -
Rise up in quests to slay dull dragon’s lairs
Clothed in nurture with the flesh of miracles;
And congenital marvels released.
Written: February 19, 2024
_____________________________________
Loving with a lucent locus is Lissom,
mooring a mystic's sibylline moves
as Felicity finds me, I float forward,
fusing both fantasies' fused yaws,
a rendezvous with time
rejecting zigzag of a jigsaw mind
love acts as a "kinematic" spark
your pulse kept me vibrant
a wave of love washed over us
yet, venom was tossed onto me
without my love, you won't survive
I am an artist shaping your fate,
our bedtime talks are ethereal.
Your loving bird of paradise
flies from earth to sky.
fuchsia fragranced feathers.
beauteous bliss, priss-phobic parody
enhances mental sensuality.
rain sings a warm tune tonight.
I'm trapped by my heartbeat calm.
I find serene places akin to cascades.
lowering my long-standing anxiety.
I unleash angels' shadows.
who redeems me from deceit?
Fulfilled fears, ritualistic romance,
split subtlety spreads semantics
true, clear steps to achievement
love: related to "pretend" and "extend"
means can indicate a cease
where symptoms swirl
honest answers might seem harsh
watch a wild waltz; wind is winsome,
reconsider before choosing
the dynamic nature of love
is subject to a sporadic storm.
Her heart longs for a reunion,
Ignore grayness of twilight
drifting in scented love letters
crafted on the smooth seashore
stored in translucent glass vessels,
featuring ageless verses
the jars shall traverse estuaries,
that brought her to his hallowed Isle
dotted with perennial blooms
gemmed shells evoke tropical muses,
tomorrow, she'll be by his side,
held by harmless sun-kissed kalon
I sense your silky swell serenading me,
fleeringly, with feeling
your imagination has created me
a vivid version of amethyst and deep sapphire,
voicing in verse, vibrant verve unfetter me
Your intriguing muse has a bright spirit.