Best Sulfuric Poems

In the narrow margin between life and death,
I feel as I'm walking a tightrope - but balancing.
I'm a portrayal of metaphors, 
illuminating like spring's moon,
who sunk like winter sunset,
but arose like summer sunrise -
my last breath an autumnal leaf.

What is life but a blank canvas...

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POTD 13 March 2019

Welcome! - We are excited to release our very first Visual Video Poem. 

(I trust you will enjoy the complete production effects and the superb narration by Dorsey Jackson (Deeja) on the video above)

I recall the hopelessness that swept
when it brought it’s...

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When silence speaks in broken dialects, to harmonize hurt, 
I ponder, would the sky unravel synonyms for serenity, 
amidst piercing thunder that strikes through raining regrets~
upon flowers, swaying forsaken, to butterfly ballads? 

But will oblivious eyes, roaming the blackness of selfish spheres~
where prayers are abandoned...

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The cockroach crawling inside a satin evil darkness
as one clown weeps into silken soft sensual feelings, 
as a blinking starlight beacon awaits a tense message
of doubts from all living dreams becoming nightmares.

Bleeding trapped within a shadow’s eerie smile whilst 
grinning through the hurt smiling at...

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Can blackwater lilies 
sing forth sonnets 
of daylight and 
unsung those 
cacophonous notes 
of omen, which 
rhymed with 
sombre elixir 
of spruce rivulets and 
veiled your crimson 
touch of life, 
in eons of unforgivable 
death? 

Those haunting floods 
of heinous moth-ringed 
August still carve my...

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Soft silhouettes sashay by my window
Grievingly gazing out unto a world of which you may never know
Linen curtains briefly ruffled in the breeze
Old drunken Julius finds shade under the huge oak trees
The echoes of poverty ring outside my building
The pleas of panhandlers, the chattering of...

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When r e a l i t y feels like
a poisoned paradise, 
trapped in a claustrophobic cave,
strangling my spirit
with ice-cold claws of fate,
I close my fatigued eyes,
attuned to the mellifluous
flames of the moon-wings,
detached from the gravity
pulling me six feet below,
chained to a casket of chaos,
adorned...

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Ideas Trapped By An Inactive Mind

Your mind is hidden in darkness
Thoughts trapped in deep crevasses
Their screams echoes through deathly shadows
Attacked and strangled at their every move
The struggle against invisible shackles
Drawing blood as they fight their captor
Demons search for ideas ripping them apart
Stripped skin strewn across...

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Offended is an expensive Vintage
blended 
lacking precision 
I recommend a less sulfuric fermentation


-----------Varietals-------------

grapes of wrath
so much to offer
each glass
examine
swirl
smell
breathe and savor 
see legs of the vine 
tannins to taste

or we can 
over drink 
over think
get wasted and offended 
tick clocks fast
amidst boiling stew
issues skewed by...

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Bring two poems is what he said. 

She chose a Personification, ‘Violin’, (the proud recipient of an International Poetry contest award), and a narrative, ‘The Rise and fall of an Empire.’ 

***

A Raven greets her.

She follows him, up into the nest where he retreats to...

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Reading a post by Alfred Vassallo, I have decided to start a discussion on soupers about the ortodoxy of poems. Vassallo complains that the site is boring because comments are not directed to favour the production of better poems.He is right. A soup must be...

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Three o’clock in the afternoon: 
the sun should have been 
scorching the asphalts 
and the shingles on roofs, but 

spurts of red electric spark
ran across the sky.  Blackness 
smothered any hint of light. 
Molten earth spewed out 
from the gates of hell. The ground...

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Mystic sounds move slowly against  the face of the cragged purple mountains.  Towers of lost forgotten cities peek seductively through canopies of age old trees.  Grey mists hide millennia of secrets behind veiled curtains of damp waterfalls frozen in stone and ice....

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"The Monochrome Echo Chamber"




How many Roads
to "IT"
Black 
as Black & White? 
or Unicorns and Rainbows?

Unitarian 1 and only 1 
Trinitarian 3 exist in 1 
An answer 
arrives 
unheralded 

Reversed in Time
Something 
has lit the fuse
Something 
without colour 
grown from sparks 

Light 
through 
Matter Dark
is opening...

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I must give you a very stern warning:
Don’t ever call me at three o’clock in the morning.
You certainly have some unencumbered effrontery.
Why at such an inconvenient time do you want to pester me?
Normal people find the time to sleep at that hour.
How would you like...

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