Best Transcribed Poems
In the valley
of violin vines,
when the saffron sun ascends,
and crooning clouds
drift in mulberry cadence,
I let my quivering quill harmonize
mystical moonbeams
splattered across
hushed horizons~
with sparkling strings
of stardust,
as ink paints a
panorama of primrose promises,
from spring scented
sonatas scattered
in symphonic hues
of sangria syllables,
thawing
frost-clutched fauna,
while butterflies flutter
amongst floating florals,
depicting whispers
of my hyacinth heartbeat.
But something about
the way sakura
blossoms fall like rain,
traces picturesque
lines of my
lyrical confessions,
composed like
a chromatic chorus,
that savors
kismet kisses,
of a love woven
with
twinkling
tendrils in
tangerine twilight,
and when you
return like
pirouetting jasmines,
I feel the
ambrosial aura
of Persephone
emerge from
the darkest
caves of Hades,
bringing back
empyrean euphoria,
and here I let
nature unfurl
a choir of
singing sunflowers
and waltzing wisterias,
performing
classical serenades,
amidst trumpet trees
sprouting ivory petals,
in dulcet idioms,
veiling toxic tales.
But today,
as rays of gold
adorn my skyline,
I think of tender truth
transcribed in
theatrical tunes,
like
zenith of zealous zephyr
eternally rippling
blue rose breeze
across Monet’s
balmy meadow.
I gaze beyond
the silver winged
heart of
twinkling twilight,
lost within metaphors
in warm cashmere
bows of midnight.
Whilst lava lamps
for lost souls
f l i c k e r across
a maze of melancholy,
ghosts of past whispered
surreal sagas through
subtle mists~
silky snow that
d r i z z l e s
in the shape of crescent,
slowly trails
my moon-kissed skin.
If only the stars
of scarred silence
spoke the voiceless
truth raised from
the arms of trauma~
not every glowing
ray is destined
to be your wish
come true,
I was sculptured
in hailstones
of burnt ice,
and my ivory nails
drowned in the color
of your fire blood.
I am the throned
mistress of massacres,
a walking black storm,
that strikes onyx lightning
upon pearlescent
roads to hyacinth healing.
For everything
I touched
became frost,
when heavy clouds bled
to paint the skyscape
in citrine powder.
Perhaps, there is
no need of stretching
your fingers in gratitude,
as it shall
soon abandon
every lucky charm,
like the death of poetry
within inked
pages of
an accidental poet.
Yet, I still see
the unwritten
verses in your dewy eyes~
unsung
poetic confessions,
written in
diamond and rust;
“you’re the poison
I’m willing to take”
Like how romeo
died in the name of
a forsaken tale
told by the infatuated
soul of his Juliet~
Cupid’s bow still
is adorned with her
love-struck tears
that emanate
unshed truth.
So let, the alchemy
of dreams concoct,
a perfumed potion
from black
quartz rain,
to ease this caricature
lifetime of memories~
chasing sonnets
contrived in sorcery,
to seize the stories
of
misplaced prophecies.
whilst hope is flying
on paper wings
of a dark
horse carousel,
where my past self
was crystal-gazing,
to see the crown
carved from rhinestones
of shattered glasses,
piercing through
my honey mane.
But, this immortal
heart will remain
in a museum of
Monet’s garden,
where sorrowful
serenades linger
above thornless roses.
For I am heaven
and hell for you,
in everlasting awakenings
transcribed in turquoise
topaz till tomorrow…
Have you longed to give your heart just for the sake of giving?
Withheld for years, for pain and tears spark fear that steals from living
a full, enriched, and glorious life where joy outweighs the sorrow ~
one in which one yearns to live, believing in tomorrow.
And if you thought to finally give what’s ached to be set free,
to make a change, jumpstart your heart, within a moment be
everything you hoped for but could never quite conceive;
then, once again, encountered thieves who lie, cheat, and deceive...
Would you then quit, throw in the towel, no more to fight again;
or hold on tight, steadfast, and strong and pray that love will win?
Engaging in a battle as such may introduce defeat,
but walk away and casualties will knock you off your feet.
Consider this, if it is true that earth is heaven’s floor,
then love should rule ~ a truth transcribed upon each person’s core.
Could we succeed in loving self as much as we love others,
we just might heal and bear the strength to stand aside our brothers.
Then, we could all give from the heart with kindness and compassion
for fear will lose all reasoning when love becomes the fashion.
There is a wind , which sketched,
Without my knowledge, the message;
Autumn had lying words,
On my page.
It was by way of red leaves,
The bird of passage,
Twirling in space,
I followed it of my glance
And its woven loops,
On the canvas of the sky.
I just transcribed,
What the wings,
Supported on the wind,
Said to me.
-
(translated from french )
--
C'est un vent qui traçait,
A mon insu, le message ;
L'automne avait couché les mots,
Sur ma page.
C'étaient en guise de feuilles rousses,
L'oiseau de passage,
Virevoltant dans l'espace,
Je l'ai suivi de mon regard,
Et de ses boucles tissées,
Sur la toile du ciel .
J'ai seulement retranscrit,
Ce que les ailes,
Appuyées sur le vent,
M'avaient dit.
"The Daily Mornings of Strange Automatons"
lucid dreams
those clouds convey
the hidden mysteries
of waking chariots
sucked up in the vortex
heliographs flashing
the silver
yo-yo strings
we are like puppets
played for codes
with buried meanings
transcribed animations
staggered routine automatons
covered in words of babel
strange hieroglyphs felt
like braille the feelings
understood misunderstood
spoken mirror images
held to the open caves
of mouths breathing
breath like fog
polishing time
inhale exhale
away
(LadyLabyrinth / 2023)
The carcass of my subliminal words echo through smoke filled corridors... it is an intricate dance where the subjective yearning of broken hearts and confused minds labor.
This is the food of the poet, deep emotion transcribed through longing, like the kiss of a long lost lover... feeling her... almost touching her... but she is gone.
So you wake up to sorrow and tend the flames of the candle of your heart, feeling her... but she is a ghost... you pray tomorrow she will come... the inspiration of a lovers heart, yearning to be touched. Dancing back and forth in this mired dungeon, from the window to the wall. Wondering if there are any roses in your garden that you could pluck for her before the seasons wilt young virulent life.
The life of a heart bleeding for seasons long passed when the dreams of champagne lips was the promise of tomorrow's wedding... When you find that you married the broken shards of a schizophrenic mind. That your wife has danced away and all you can do is to curse the wind that whispers of her a thousand miles away.
But maybe tomorrow, when you tend the flames again... the wind carries memories of new beginnings... maybe tomorrow, holding hands with a lover's shy smile... maybe tomorrow, she will let you begin again. We are in love with the seasons and dark winters eventually fade to spring.
"The Clementine"
for the plucking,
the Clementine
leaves were fresher back then
the light glistened stronger
each segment a morsel
a revision slow and deliberate
transcribed by Jerome
gates to be opened
and consumed
in latin passages
verdi vulgate ancient fruit
before the modern world
the meaning lost
for those lost
between orchards
of words, opened
before
the greater great war,
a harvest, the Q source
strange language
strange stories
some found
apocryphal,
the hidden
didymos Thomas,
buried by strict canons
revealed untrue
in that strange winter
the orchards
were all burned
(LadyLabyrinth / 2022)
apocryphal. Adjective
apocrypha. Noun
didymos/Greek, meaning.
Q Source
Thomas
Jerome
Press and dry; stamped aneath a logo of their own design....
This colourful pigment melting upon red velvet seals
Via the telegraph wires amid these morse code keys
Songbirds, singing their midnight songs unto me!?
Compositions notes to be transcribed from symbol sheets
Covering myself with these their, queen size needs....
Fine silks formed about the countless threads
Words spoken atop their crowned in turquoise, sweet asylums
Letter heads; bejeweled tokens to wear as shining bracelets true
Postmortum promises and then yes, we're wed too....
Pressed and dried; stamped with a logo of their own design
Two steps ahead and side to side, within this, a poetess rhyme?!
Buried between the tilling soils of her rose laden bush
Planted in a portrait that she painted afore the crimson earth
Picturesque, tangled amid her own twist and curls....
Spinning spools which she spun in gardens you see
As she cast her fragrant bouquet webs for all to be
Breathe; delusions digested through her smoke and screen!?
Coloured pigments melted upon stardust dreams; red velvet
Via telegraph wires of higher and highers, morse code me's....
Sealed into their blue realm desires marked in these; infatuations
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Black Balloons Floating By” ~
"Poetry is just the ash"
voices clearly purged though
boldness of inky ash laden passages,
echoing that which most
words cannot convey,
pen cleanses sins & fortifies the soul
speaks in volumes of verbose spirit
weeping in smudges of tearful metaphors'
bloodied and effervescent on the page,
outpouring pathways to sentiment's reward
& emotional translations' endeavor
amid transcribed tribulations,
piercing the eye for all to seek
reflections smattered upon poetry
within prerogative's freedom
& simply usurped realities
“Poetry is just the evidence of life. If your life is burning well, poetry is just the ash.” ? Leonard Cohen
The birthday party, a surprise,
Had lots of things to tantalize –
A lovely house, delicious food,
A friendly host to set the mood…
Some dialogue with friends and kin,
The birthday gal’s elated grin
When, from the car, she looked about
As all of us let out a shout.
My favorite part, though, was to see,
Transcribed to view on a TV,
Home movies of the honored guest,
The past revived at our behest.
Most partygoers knew her then
And lived those mem’ries once again
But we don’t go back quite as far
So watching really raised the bar:
An eighth grade trip, a P.J. bash,
A backyard pool, with hose and splash,
The senior prom (and she the queen!),
A high school graduation scene.
To see my friend so very young
Gave background to the praises sung
And piled so high upon her plate
By all who came to celebrate.
As pals and family reminisced,
I saw a bit of what I’d missed
But I was thrilled to recognize
My younger friend, a sweet surprise.
The vision of colors
Words that intensify with every varying assortment
When it comes to spectacular, it’s the amazement in what is to come, and what was transcribed
Beauty in every letter in what they provide
Suppose with no oppose
Every thought captured at the right moment of the angle
A Poet composes every night within
Sometimes bright stars or nightmare element dialog
Imagine fireworks surrounded by the dazzle Poet with their own writing explosion
Explosion
The mind with on a river in mine capturing all the components of delight
Picture the Poet like a Lighthouse being a guiding light
Expectation beyond
Fireworks after fireworks
Preparation and detail
Poet on sight
Get ready for the writing explosive night
No look up just a hook up
Razzle and Dazzle
THE UNKNOWN GOD
Heavy the burden, but light is [the way].
That’s when you put the Lord [in its place].
The sun may not be shining, but your [spirit shows].
That’s your [inner being aglow].
Never a path undefined.
This is because his voice speaks divine [via the mind].
The teaching he provides is transcribed.
To share, sermonize.
What a wonderful life and beautiful choice to do the work of the Lord.
No man or woman can deny that you are the [Keeper of the Lord’s Shrine].
That is [a Holy place Divine].
The abstracted flush went astray.
Standing were the shadows of yesterday.
Awry the eyes appear in the dark.
Two clouds of gray were shown.
Midst sleuths prayer was heard.
The rays of light beamed from high above.
Sending tension to the silhouettes that stood where the shadows left.
The vibes were felt as fear took shape.
This is the Holy place of the Lord.
The Shrine has formed [as a precarious world].
This is where [iniquity meets the unknown God].
Transgression is natural within the seasons.
Through faith and belief, omnipotence is perceived.
The laws of humankind were transliterated and conceptualized
Until the [aspects of life] formalized.
[Politics, religion, family, work, and leisure time] are originates.
Faith is demarcated.
They said the Chariot of Fire is operated by the Lord’s Army.
Distinct is the chimes hearkened.
Pay attention to the alarm.
Stand your post and remain strong.
The universe has contravene and people will be destroyed.
The acumen is the perspicuity.
The knowledge is gen.
The voice is enunciation ascertain.
______________________________
Written November 05, 2015!
Resting on a beautiful day under a sky blazed with gold,
I realized a vision so lovely to behold.
A lush garden watered by gently running streams,
On one side blueberry hills and the other the rainbow of dreams.
Here there is food to satisfy and thrills for the eye,
Enough for all God’s creatures of land, water, and sky.
The garden nymph, residing in the mansion of my mind,
Supplies my super-conscience with sweet devotions divine.
Here our hearts are light as the leaf on an apple tree,
‘Cause every wish and desire is crowned with victory.
Larks and bluebirds visit daily to serenade us from on high
And leave us sweet memories when they launch into the sky.
The reverend here is a woman who outmatches the moon,
She likes dancing through the garden with dessert and spoon.
The preacher is one sensational human and has a vision true.
She sees the Word transcribed in the air and inherent in the dew.
The birds of paradise now in place, wearing feathered robes aglow,
Harmonize with a melodious breeze that began a billion years ago.
Ever blooming in the garden a great perennial pair,
Tireless Josephine and Jackie Moms perform there.
Their unselfish presence in the theater of life,
Washes away colossal measures of human strife.
Such now is my refuge and eternal habitation,
Where I go each day to the Lord and express my adoration.
Just For You...
Because you are loved, I wrote to you.
Since I miss you, and cherish you;
I now show my appreciation for you.
I harnessed my numerous thoughts;
Then transcribed them into words,
Just for you...
Daily, you are a feature in my mind;
So, I send sweet texts to encourage.
Timely calls, to make you feel missed.
Thus, strengthening our friendship,
Just for you...
Thank you: for being a good friend;
- Good memories; past and to come.
- Precious moments only friends share.
Because of that and more I wrote this;
Just for you...
End
By: Dion Penville
I Will Smile
I smile, to dispense out the rage in my soggy heart!
Most folks smile, if they're dwelling in cloud nine.
I will smile, when I get that kiss from my child hood crush,
Like Bow Wow did from Tyra Banks.
Queen Elizabeth's kiss on my cheek will spark a radiant smile on my phiz!
Elegant, brief and delicious dreams tender smiles on my phiz.
A prior romantic night, will glow up my smiles, this is evident during the break of dawn.
If I ever fish out million-dollar woman, I will smile at the end of the day.
For a chitchat with Kanye, I will smile.
When I get to transcribe Rap lyrics for Jay-Z, I will smile.
Imagine me on the same comedy show with Kevin Hart,
What a diamond smile I would compose.
Writing screenplays with Leonardo Dicaprio and Nicholas Cage, why wouldn't I smile?
Ah yah! Oh yeah! Not forgetting lunch with Obama-
What a glowing smile I will tattoo.
Okay! I studied from Makerere University,
The best University in East Africa and the fourth in Africa,
Let alone, I have the happiest smile so far.
When I flicker to Trance and Digital Daggers music,
The hidden companion smile, is transcribed allover me.
Let's float through Def. Jam Records with Russell Simmons,
Where I would love to record an audio anthology some day,
Russell heed to my dream, because I want to smile.
Let alone, working with ColdPlay, their lyrics always drill smiles into me.
In the end I'm with Linkin Park.
Let my confessions be by my side,
And my phiz will smile eternally.
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