Best Soliloquy Poems
O hear I chant clinging to a sullen northern shore,
tempestuous serene rocky beach that you so adore,
sultry soliloquy sturdy stifled structure sings,
a witness of forgotten sailors and majestic kings.
Them, I blessed with gracious shelter in storms,
for I unmanned, rejoiced in accompanying norms
dreaming of worlds afar with anchored symphony,
of parting tears that await a returning euphony.
O watch my ancient red-bricked watchtower in sky
where the cherry-eyed albatross prepares to fly,
whispering of solitary voyages on vessels adrift,
guiding them through entailing waters, cold and swift.
Them, I engulf in mystic hues of radiant green light,
their shivering agony embraced by divine joy so bright,
dancing to tunes of prodigious waves as they kissed,
my feet reuniting with the ocean bed of forlorn mist.
O taste the pungent waves that carry eternal seasons,
timeless frequencies sprinkled on heavenly reasons,
essence of leaves rolled in snow and streams they fuse,
beads reborn of universe in a cradled hammock cruise.
Them, I absorb with their enchanting viscous tides,
they melt with innocent bliss my truculent slides
that flourishes my solitary light to let me sense
melodies of blushing mornings with visitors hence.
O touch my abandoned walls, barren yet strong,
bereft of warm embrace in a lifetime so long;
them I nurture with tears of melancholic grief,
to be held by tender nights of melodious relief.
I await the echoing hums of a delicate little girl,
her fingers orchestrated the howling wind with a twirl,
I became the serene light that guides despondent ships,
a proud beacon of benign hope dissolving dark eclipse.
You give me the desire
a love for composing
word symphonies
yet you give me
the cross of mediocrity
to bear
day by day to know
there are others
who are prodigies
and I must hear
the thunderous applause
while at best
I get the praise
of those who seek to console
my dying soul
I must eat my heart alive
while the words burn inside
demanding expression
soul confession
unborn masterpiece extrication
I fall to my knees
and plead
While I beat my chest
in fervent heat
"Bless me...Bless me...
Make me like him
Make me like her
Make me more than all of these
Make me the best
a word genius
For this love of words will not set me free
Till it is MY name that they chant
My name on their tongues
My name branded on their minds
the Maestro of Word symphonies
Oh, Let it be ME, ME!
BLESS ME!"
Yet...
day after day
night after night
and in my dreams
I see, I see....
I see them take their bows
I see their work showcased
praised
immortalized
while I?
I sit at my desk
and try once more
to write
to...WRITE
the sublime....
Eileen
The movie Amadeus rocked my to the core. "In it, Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart was killed by his jealous rival, the court composer Antonio Salieri. Salieri cleverly took advantage of Mozart's fondness for drink, his financial crisis, and his obsession with pleasing his deceased father, and tricked Mozart into working himself to death."
Murry Abraham did a wonderful job of portraying Salieri. There is a scene where he argues with God about the wonderful musical talent he has gifted Mozart, who seems undeserving to him, while HE has to live with mediocrity in musical talent. I can relate. I LOVE poetry. It is my life, and yet...I have to watch as others write so effortlessly and reach the pinnacle of fame. It is hard to do. :( Some days are better than others. On the good days, I'm happy that I can write a poem now and again. On the bad days....I want to cry for not being another Shakespeare....or Donne, or Dickinson, or Gibran, or Rumi, or....and the list is endless.
I often cower at the thought
of conflict, and what grief it's brought -
while you have courage to engage the fight
for what is right.
I frequently will fret and fear
in dread at what might happen here -
while your strong hope believes the future brings
a bird that sings.
I sometimes walk with head held high,
a prideful, unrepentant guy -
while you are humble as the silent b
in subtlety.
I tend to think I'm always right
and walk illumined by the light -
while you are kind, with grace to listen to
each point of view.
More courage, hope, humility,
and grace I yearn to someday see
etched on your visage when my race is run -
when sets the sun.
Written 16 Jan 2021
Now is the summer of our discontent
Made glorious opportunity for change
And all the clouds that lower on our land
In the bosom of the media rearranged
While I who have no mind for fair concord
Determine to conspire and prove the fiend
And hate the idle pleasures life affords
Ensure conflict is harvested and gleaned
Plots have I laid, inductions dangerous,
To instigate a man against a brother
Black history I will exploit to thrust
In deadly hate one race upon the other
Soft hearted folks I will manipulate
And play upon their heartstrings for my schemes
Their sympathy emotions shall dictate
Virtue signalling conformant to woke memes
To activate my hidden plan I’ll move
Self righteous useful pawns - give delegation
With peaceful protests (who could not approve?)
Though they shall lead to ruinous conflagration
The people will rise, call for a redeemer
When old regime has made a full contrition
To save the nation, be a chaos healer
I’ll, with reluctance, undertake the mission
Then my control shall be with iron fist
Surveillance of the people I’ll refine
And cohorts of young zealots I’ll enlist
The name: ‘Beloved Leader’ shall be mine
18 June 2020
.
Oh
if I could just reach out
and touch her face
when she looks that way
at the me
Each morning
I pass her pane
and kiss her soft lips
no need to be firm
just softly
Yes I
this gentle man
would kiss
oh those lips
I am not dreaming, certainly. .
Not even dreams of the purest happiness
Contain that of which makes up this precious being. . .
How softly she smiles at me….
Like the beautiful gypsy, La Esmeralda,
To the hideous hunchback Quasimodo,
Looking not on my face and frame with any ounce of fear nor fright—
But with wholesome love and compassion. .
She extinguishes all past hurt
With the gentle, fervent touch of those soft, small hands,
The determined gleam in her eyes of certainty, mercy and trust…..
A guardian in this icy world of hate and suspicion,
Whom melts this frozen heart with her words of skill and will!
I should almost wish to steal her away—
Yet any power or control that I have once possessed is lost in her good deeds
I cannot be tempted to hurt or wrong her any longer,
For she and she alone acknowledges my life with the stainless soul
Of justice and kindness!
She has restored my hope like the rays of the sun
Beating upon a warming ground once cold and rigid through many nights
She melts me like the ice of the mountain’s peak,
Which now pours such warm, gratifying tears,
Down the dangerous trails, to the humbling base…..
Sweet angel of relief…..
I will cling to you as I have nothing…..
I rely on you, for you are everything…….
New grass will wave in a crisp morning breeze
White buds will blur our orchard lanes again
Clouds will be dancing over the blue horizon
And earth will feel the tiny feet of rain
Streams will wash their pebbles bright and clean
Each shaken fern will yield a twinkling shower
Meadowlarks will share a sweet soliloquy
And sun-drenched lilacs will be glad with flower
The wide lift of fresh air and skies of blue
Will glimmer between each leafy bough of green
I will walk into the woods, ushered by a redwing's flute
I will bask in the sunshine, and listen to the song of spring
New born lambs will suckle in the dew
A fragrant petal from the apple tree
Will rest upon my cheek, and I will feel the touch of spring
And know a sense of peace, throughout the whole of me
* * * *
Cast
what’s left
of your net
faithfully out
inquisitively into life’s river .
This time draw it's fill slowly back to shore,
taking great care
which treasures
you should
keep.
written by:
Robert A. Dufresne
Raindrop Soliloquy
My raindrop hides into a tiny nook
to signal of a pending storm to come
a lightning strike prepares to make its scene
the consequences may be dire
the night portends the ominous clouds
Behold… the massive rain begins to pour
its thrum creates a classic fugue
of music to entice a thunder roll
slamming roofs as heavy stones
caressing palms to sway with ease
with swoops of air then all is calm
then dripping on the leaves and eaves
the bear has left its safety lair
and sees the raindrop in the nook
he licks it then he moves along
another raindrop glows as gold
reflected by the morning sun
when all beginnings have an end
my raindrop will reappear again
The Raindrop Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Craig Cornish
November 21, 2018
stay here,
find me passionate-
feel my idyllic pleasure fight none
exceedingly loved am i without fear
adrift the Atlantic tides rescuing me
into safe solace
echoes of your soliloquy reach depths
too deep to comprehend
your thoughts,
my words-
your amour,
my soul-shining wonder
once languid, now strong,
for this is the dalliance i’ve
always dreamed of in my youthful longings
contouring the outline of your silhouette,
renown for all you are to me and more-
whispering poetries to your heart
as i walk o’er bridges of hope;
for i shall never be alone…
again
nevermore shall be no more,
for it’s you that i adore
and
the moonlit breeze lays flowing-
this love we share, softly glowing
12.8.19
...dedicated to Hart Crane (1899-1932)
As I dream the sounds of morning sliver,
cut my senses; slow, persistent slices
pierce my eyes to ragged wakefulness.
The muffled cries of merchant hustle and
the honking of the traffic, the noises of
a summer's day displace my reveries.
I wake, and through my window I see
barges in the harbour, bustling like
beetles, scuttling over busy waters,
dragging ships with overflowing cargoes
safe to rest - the dockhands primed
and ready to disgorge the merchandise,
as sunshine washes monoliths of steel
and glass in dazzling refinement - Manhattan
like a mass of golden bars, smoldering and tall.
Steam and smoke engulf a vibrant scene
encompassing, then drifting into nothingness,
the sky a blazing blue, the docks a maze
of rarified activity as yelling fills the air.
Beams irradiate my garret - drafts of bright
and humid air like punches in the stomach
take the breath out of my lungs and leave me
gasping. I sit and watch you sleeping on the bed.
You stretch atop the covers like a vision,
your legs and arms a picture in repose;
I do not dare to wake you from your dreams,
your limbs splayed like a strumpet, you expose
your naked form, my touch will flutter your desire.
your body 'wrapped in mine,
our souls a living sacramen
to love and joy divine.
I enter you and all the stars explode,
fulfillment is our quest,
our shining testament.
As evening gently falls the windows glimmer,
the city glistens now from altered light;
the glowing falters as the sun dips slowly,
dying in the West, makes way for night.
Activity's still rife, but in my garret,
I reach for you as darkness settles soft,
I hold you in my arms, forever blessed,
while stars are quietly dancing up aloft.
...dedicated to Hart Crane (1899-1932)
As I dream the sounds of morning sliver,
cut my senses; slow, persistent slices
pierce my eyes to ragged wakefulness.
The muffled cries of merchant hustle and
the honking of the traffic, the noises of
a summer's day displace my reveries.
I wake, and through my window I see
barges in the harbor, bustling like
beetles, scuttling over busy waters,
dragging ships with overflowing cargoes
safe to rest - the dock hands primed
and ready to disgorge the merchandise,
as sunshine washes monoliths of steel
and glass in dazzling refinement - Manhattan
like a mass of golden bars, smoldering and tall.
Steam and smoke engulf a vibrant scene
encompassing, then drifting into nothingness,
the sky a blazing blue, the docks a maze
of rarified activity as yelling fills the air.
Beams irradiate my garret - drafts of bright
and humid air like punches in the stomach
take the breath out of my lungs and leave me
gasping. I sit and watch you sleeping on the bed.
You stretch atop the covers like a vision,
your legs and arms a picture in repose;
I do not dare to wake you from your dreams,
your limbs splayed like a starlet, you expose
your naked form, my touch will flutter your desire.
your body 'wrapped in mine,
our souls a living sacrament
to love and joy divine.
I enter you and all the stars explode,
fulfillment is our quest,
our shining testament.
As evening gently falls the windows glimmer,
the city glistens now from altered light;
the glowing falters as the sun dips slowly,
dying in the West, makes way for night.
Activity's still rife, but in my garret,
I reach for you as darkness settles soft,
I hold you in my arms, forever blessed,
while stars are quietly dancing up aloft.
The
old man
dies a death,
youth arrives with
Spring-
with
a blaze
of passion
Summer takes a
Fall-
and
decays-
in Winter
darkness ages
all
Inspired by Archimboldo's Seasons paintings
http://www.abcgallery.com/A/arcimboldo/arcimboldo.html
Desperation clings to the branch
Wrestling with a frightened leaf
Begging a howling wind for more
Wondering why one leaf would fight
The wind abates, she sits alone
Desperation clings to the branch
Weeping in the hoar frost darkness
Beneath a cold, uncaring moon
Where had the color gone, the songs
the nesting birds, chirping crickets
Desperation clings to the branch
In Fall’s silenced soliloquy
An inexperienced drummer
A rattling of untrained sticks
Counting coup on Winter’s coming
Desperation clings to the branch
What use have I for words when body aches
For touch to resurrect a dead desire
I crave caress that all my power wakes
And lips that blaze on me a wanton fire
What use have I for words; they’re impotent
When body writhes and burns for hands of love
My mind is seared with passion, dominant
that calls to flights of ecstasy above
What use have I for words when hunger grips
The brazen need for its satiety
When trembling takes control of limbs and hips
And drunken passion mocks sobriety
Till words transformed to hands obey your will
To storming heart I whisper: "Peace...be still!"
JADE