Best Smelted Poems
The lightly touching tinkling bells,
Shimm'ring, babbling, laughing in the breeze,
The ever-merry tapping bells,
Who now has these?
Low, slow, iron bells;
Deep, still, lead bells.
Bells. Bells. Bells.
All gladly-sounding glowing golden-bells,
Lilting, lighter, brighter yellow bells,
Mightier-yellow even whiter bells!
Ivory-keyed I-concerto-bells!
Striding proudly in the breeze
I have these!
The bells of thoughts serenely dear,
Planning, looking, finding---here!
The hand that reaches for the loved bell's face,
Then touches, almost, the perfect place.
Low, slow, iron bells;
Deep, still, lead bells;
Bells, bells, bells.
Bells. Bells. Bells.
All terrible-sad mad rebellious bells,
Brazed, swinging-fast Goliath bells,
Stronger, harder-hearted mountain bells,
Caught! Smelted! Recast!
Now joyous-sounding royal-loyal-bells,
Silver-lovely radiant treasure-bells,
Sure-as-morning's darling pleasure-bells,
Sledging! steady! ready! wedding -bells! Bells!
All happy in the breeze,
We have these!
High, soft, snapdragon bells;
Kissed, whisp'ring, thoughful body-bells,
Bells.....bells.....bells.
An iridescent sapphire cuts into the night’s sky clearly
a gift unasked for and predestined appears solidity
love is the luster smelted inside the eastern chambers afar
Hooked upon the waxing moon’s burgeoning smile that shines
mesmerizing silver shadows dance under your bloodstained beams
beckoning freedom in an heavenly escape reflects back unconditionally
A tantalising call nurtured on the precarious wind surrounds the soul
shaded Sacred Heart images dance beckoning inside chorographic unison
never imagined acceptance of grace awaits in your tender loving embrace
A co-written piece by Liam Mcdaid & Donna Loughman
unrhymed tercets
Of love there is no antidote nor cure,
A brazen heart knows nothing of the hand,
That guides this Cupid arrow fair and pure,
And pierces through with art that soul can stand.
Of choice the soul knows nothing to begin,
As seeds that scatter aimlessly on clay,
Some grow and flourish unbeknown to him,
That stalks the Earth oblivious and grey.
Confounded he, who is awakened so,
From anaesthetic binding dark as night,
When true love strikes and soul begins to glow,
He see’s a Universe that’s blazing bright.
And brazen heart is smelted down to flesh,
And nourished through with all of loves relish.
An iridescent sapphire cuts into the night’s sky clearly
a gift unasked for and predestined appears solidity
love is the luster smelted inside the eastern chambers afar
Hooked upon the waxing moon’s burgeoning smile that shines
mesmerizing silver shadows dance under your bloodstained beams
beckoning freedom in an heavenly escape reflects back unconditionally
A tantalising call nurtured on the precarious wind surrounds the soul
shaded Sacred Heart images dance beckoning inside chorographic unison
never imagined acceptance of grace awaits in your tender loving embrace
A co-written piece by Liam Mcdaid & Donna Loughman unrhymed tercets
Copper blooms, titanium too below the iron of the sky
Rich fields of ore, quarried, lay everywhere without a quarrel
In conjunction with all things shiny on the land and rust of day
Mountains pinnacles are miles high
With gold draped cliffs of drifting yellow beads of brass
Green vegetation grows around them to quell their worries
Reaching to be free from electricity, thermal conductivity
Streams that run along the fields of metal valley mines
Gray with aluminum strands soft and solvent
Punctuate the landscape up above
Anodizing, analyzing, thinking they are zinc
So much of zinc below the solid surface riches
All this to be discerned by proper science expeditions
Metal machines gather what they need to feed their kind
Golden days, silver nights, tongues of tungsten
Wrap themselves around themselves for warmth
Metalloids are not yet born or forged
Malleable to shaping when they come
Some nonmetallic friends stop by to see the young
Marble and silicon are spies
Disclosed, exposed as such
Despised, disposed of for their corrosive side and lies
Platinum dressed in blue arrives
Stays to take a smoke or two
Smoldering in a blistering sun
Smelted, furn-aced for the future
To be tempered into something smooth
To contemplate the truth with other alloys
Query how all metals can be used
How Earth can hold itself together with the ores
Both in the ground and in the metal fields outside
To lay aside barren lands their souls in sun for warmth
Metal-tate a way to feel the force
They carry on and need no water
Of course rocks are most jagged and driest on mountain tops
They yield the finest metals, minerals at their pinnacles up there
And where suns furnace first glowed on
Touched the tip of Earth
Up there still, refines, defines the metal fields
9/22/14 Pinnacle - Poetry Contest
The girl of my dreams, who but she could understand
of that deep desire, as a burning fire, for her hand
her hand in friendship, her hand there always to hold
her hand in mine, our souls as one, smelted as with gold
The girl of my dreams, who but she could understand
always to be by her side, never to run and never to hide
a true soul mate, through thick and thin, oath of a bride
with trust and loyalty that only loving souls could abide
The girl of my dreams, who but she could understand
that growing void in my conscience, is but a reflection of my fear
a fear that paralyzes my ability, preventing me to express my care
but you are my healer and rightfully so, to whom my heart calls dear
You girl of my dreams, were created as perfect as can be
given a mission to help me be complete, and to eventually see
your love and warmth, these qualities how they do provide
this ability for me to overcome, my own shallowness resting inside
You my better half, fashioned for me, by whom else but the One above
my life has new meaning, since you choose to share with me your love
know my dear this truth, even if my love for you could be divided in two
nothing would change, for it could never remove all the love I have for you
It fell from a grey sky
That exhibited darker clouds
From the smouldering of the earth
Over the land of the rhino
It covered all with whiteness
And turned the tone of the continent
Into emptiness
The people and the wildlife vacating the landscape
Experienced a mixture of emotions
Confusion ran rampant throughout the villages
Why now, when the weather forecast was...?
What was is...it’s been sunny all our lives!
Who can explain this phenomenon?
Where’s the witchdoctor?
How will our children walk barefoot in the ice?
They’ve never known winter like this,
No one even owns a winter jacket
The snow fell in triangular flakes
Some rectangular, or circular
And even irregular
But none of this was very popular
The elders recall a day in 1981 when it last happened
The youngsters Google search, but the signal is poor
The entire community is looking for answers
The weatherman cannot be seen
It seems someone is deliberately hiding the truth
A prophet came from the neighbouring village
Wielding a cane, and out of the snow
Built a snowman
He came to life and spoke...
These are the sorrows of those who died in vain
In a land that still harbours so much pain
When Ebola and malaria cannot be eradicated
HIV and TB are still in existence
The snow carries nothing but anger
At those remaining who fail to prosper
Because of dictators and corruption
Inequality, and gender violence
The snow smelted overnight
And the sky opened to the grey of the rhino
The black and white of the zebra
To the pride of a lion
And the joy of the people
THOU I WALK THROUGH THE VALLEY OF DEATH, I FEAR NO EVIL
Stricken but not stripped
Cursed but never coursed
Shot and never block
Stomped but stopped
Broke but never fell
Slapped to be crushed
And drag down in hell
So you stand there to take a laugh…
Drowning in a pool
To swim I never knew
To scream is like to call for more
Darkness to crave in like Mr Croc
Wiggling and shaking his tale towards me
To consume me as his night meal as he is good at
Fog creeps in
Thick clouds floods in
Lightning making a scar
The sun hides out
Trees glooms on
While the moon shines off
The wolfs may haul
To the tear that cries out
For the blood that splits out
As the sharks and scavengers approaches
Only to see the face… face drop,
But they, not knowing
Not knowing that from within
Deep inside at the core
There in the heart that blobs
Lit a candle
Though smelted down to no form
The top of it shines a flame
Joyfully sings and dances
Like a new born baby seeing his mom coming
And knowing that rich treasures of milk is to be served
The flame,
That glows in the night
Like a lighthouse at the seashore
That could be seen by sailors from afar
And giving them hope
That there is life nearby
And the sailing and wriggling is about to be over
Because there is rest
The light,
The light a sign of life
Life to be alive
Alive and has defeated
Defeated and knocked him out
Because the light never gives up
And though he can take his best shot
Draining all he has and all he could he wont
And he will never
Never as he wishes to turn off
Turn off the light
Because it was lit from above
And thou I walk through the valley of death, I fear no evil
Author Neo Masetlane
Passions de l’amour vrai
The texture of your caresses, soft like an egret’s plumes
When you touch me, my soul’s sheathed longing ruptures
Your fragrance engrossing adorns scents of jasmine perfumes,
Sheltered snugly within your arms, you disrobe my bosom pleasures
Your kisses honeyed, scorch my skin mildly like vernal sunshine
Flames fiery of your desires smelted, consume my agile passions
Like prairie fire I singe, you’re summer’s sensual warmth pristine
My heart’s entranced wholly. Your breaths feel like aphrodisiac portions,
Like leaves lithe in air floating, our bodies glibly levitate
Your crystal eyes, glisten with a luster than sapphire illumine
Our emotions like lovecrests leap, their fervent thirst immaculate
Pure rhapsody erupts, your thrills satiated to mine entwine
Like a balm you salve tempests of my ecstatic enamour,
Toujours commence maintenant, Je vous adore toujours mon amour.
© Maverick Nyambu
PS:
Last Line is French for “Forever begins now, I adore you endlessly my love”.
Any Subject - Octtava Rima - Dedicated to the artistry of glass artist, Dale Chihuli
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Chihuli
Spells of flames, winter moons, blue sunshine, sunsets ~
Glass stained by whispers in bubbles of rainbows
Sleeps, captive of creativity’s minx possessed ~
Trapped magic quivers, enchantment to bestow ~
Beauty waits to paint kaleidoscope’s pallette
In hues and shapes borrowed from day’s bright meadow
Desert winds gather in whorls - windstars descend
Through the flutters of fiery flames sand transcends
Breath of moonbeams refracted into twisting swirls
Light trapped in luminescent channels, dead-ends,
A kiss of fire shapes hot glass in molten curls
Through embers of wanton fireflies shape descends
Globes emerge from red coals with cascades of pearls
Fire dance spins smelted crystal into legends
Beauty blown from the ageless artist’ breath seeds
Radiance for glass gardens - fantasy freed.
“There is a mine for silver
and a place where gold is refined.
Iron is taken from the earth,
and copper is smelted from ore.
Mortals put an end to the darkness;
they search out the farthest recesses
for ore in the blackest darkness.
Far from human dwellings they cut a shaft,
In places untouched by human feet;
far from other people they dangle and sway.
The earth, from which food comes,
Is transformed below as by fire;
lapis lazuli comes from its rocks,
and its dust contains nuggets of gold.
No bird of prey knows that hidden path,
no falcon’s eye has seen it.
Proud beasts do not set foot on it,
and no lion prowls there.
People assault the flinty rock with their hands
and lay bare the roots of the mountains.
They tunnel through the rock;
their eyes see all its treasures.
They search the sources of the rivers
and bring hidden things to light.”
Hard-chromed and brutally alloyed
he fed the scrapyard hurricane.
Melting the metal, his brawn enjoyed
the splash of sweat cooling the pain.
The weight of the world discarded
at the foot of his furnace lit,
he struggled to make soon parted
its history, hard and fast writ …
… in twisted iron and mangled steel.
Stoking the fire, hellishly hot,
a cauldron of memories once real,
he freed the souls of things forgot.
Unthicked by his lethean flame,
smelted loose of its heavy years,
the once gritty metal flowed tame,
shiny new without smiles or tears.
They smelted
moonlight
into one
million
dollar bars.
My eyes
had seen
the scintillating
golden
vermillion
light of the
moon.
I rode off into
the sunset
...as it began to melt.
It... was... the... strangest...
feeling
that I've
...ever
felt.
The darkness in men's
hearts
began to flee.
For once in my life--
I seen...
inside of me.
As Swedish lightning enters
Renders day from deepest night
And (soulful) wishers beg
Mortgaging their tearful fortunes
For an ounce of pure spiritual bullion
With happy veins glistening
Truth, honor, sufficient respect
Among the smelted ore
Ready for mold and use
Pass me down
The spirit roars
Throw me selflessly into the frenzy
That needs the slightest taste
Where spirit climbs
Wind lifting it above the caroling
Desperate chorus
They sing to place the blame
Affix the blame
Plainly on shoulders
Foreign yet known
Sturdy, meaty
Built by strength
Gained, endured
Through the repetition
Yet believe, they will
Chant its gross tales of hope
Until the sun can rise
On its own
Two feet.
(8/14/04)
The faces of the tom-toms were sallow,
So was the face of the sun, dark-visaged,
Red, and starved through a pogrom
That assaulted the peace of the beasts.
Darkness spelt the names of diseases,
Each pronounced through stiffened tongues,
Whited by the scourge of hate – a common
Figure, cadaverous and laconic, but incestuous.
Grieving rivers sought ways to be rechristened
Or rebaptized by holy rills with less fetor, as
Long as riparian languages were still spoken on
Breaths of brooks, broken, but gathered in bits
By hands that leaned on fermented soot only.
And darkness persisted, perspiring from hostile
Beats of hollow drums when fire reaches them
From tormented skies.
One truth loomed: the truth of a disvirgined
Destiny, clothed in serrated raiment of grief.
On its crown, shredded petals of holocausts
Form toothless thorns shaped like lightning.
Death was prominent, dispirited, and hung loose
On strings smelted on anvils raging from heinous
Rape of a blooded land. Shores wept with humour
When our frightened coasts sneezed with mirth.
I speak of Biafra where the land still bleeds
I recall that vision, of a crowded city,
Where signs were hung in heaven,
Where voices were muted by the colour of bold words.