When love's chalice brims with passion's pain
from crooked hands now clenched within your mind
its wormwood draught is less the bile that stains
you spilled to cleanse the earthen floor of time
the rapture of this life now cleans my soul
as it bleeds deep in darker realms of shade
you drove the knife that cut the rose once whole
release my suffering heart as death persuades
this flower keeps no breath within its bloom
now drifting dark beneath the setting sun
flee from this world whose shadows I consume
as my heart dies, its death already done
a crumbled love lies dead inside my heart
buried beneath the lies as you depart
The aforementioned hedonism, strokes caught up wisdom unmatched by bearish grizzled forms artfully adorned who unmatched then seeks the goal, the post is moved like hell-bent verses that sway from lips underneath the stellar waves amber moons have come to fade, the shades dance in cunning bottled knowhow sent abyss, but she renounced the second wish, so one more laceration coming to the kin, akin to whiplash softly brims and send the message soft and clear, the dithery clouds have parted seer.
We marvel at the evanescent lilac dusk;
A captivating midnight ambiance to get lost in.
'Tis a cool night that brims with quiet peace
And touches our spirit like a silken shadow.
We're completely engulfed in this black umbra
One in a million, this wondrous feeling!
The twilight air gently rests against your skin
As soft whispers of nature fade around us.
We lament for massive ,angelical
innocent ,pure flowers
are killed.
It brims over with unimpeded
bloodshed.
In the realm of hopelessness
is embede in dreadful, terrifying
horrifying acts.
God' symphonic, harmonious lark
will prevail. sometime. Dove
will dominates our earth.
The weeping, wailing butterfly is
the bloodstained, gloomy
river.
The ravishing ,glittering tapestry of trueness
will embrace our unfeigned weary soul.
Petals are jewelled like embroidered frills;
Globes of mirages enwrap the limbs.
The face is flushed with kisses of chills;
With glass ice pearls, the quivering heart brims.
The wintry gust shakes her convulsing self;
Into melting icicle drops they weep.
As though the footfalls of an unseen elf,
Mysteries from sepals and petals peep.
Within the weak physique's softening chime,
The spirit is alive, though choked by frost.
Will winter last beyond its destined time?
Rebellion stirs beneath, though charm seems lost.
Will buried rainbows pierce this frozen shrine,
Or does the frost shroud all that used to shine?
Like my eyes, the horizon brims with tears,
Pouring down upon the far, scattered hills,
The happy hamlets, the brooks
That feed the water mills.
It occurs to me so gently
Why these scenes proliferate in books;
The hard lines that contain a city, faintly
Fall and converge with the softness of the wood
Till the quiet beauty of nature is again understood
A serenity the mind recalls from long ago—
A younger me peering the vale from a window;
A sight that past fulfilled my wanting eye,
Searching so many years—
I find myself back where I began,
Crying these tears,
A thankful man.
The ice-scent, which was light once, flows stronger.
Cold, like a tired athlete, lingers longer.
The mind brims with the sweet thoughts of Noel.
There's, in the air, the sound of Christmas bell.
Shades of fir trees adorn the silver screens.
Twilight paints the sky with flamboyant scenes.
Fog tries to shroud the fading sun and fails.
Maple leaves and fig bracts smoothen the trails.
Streams and brooks flow with crystal-clear water.
Beneath the sea surface glad cods swatter.
Solemnity of peace pervades the earth.
Humans and angels feel the season's mirth.
A vase brims with red and peach blooms
their colors bleed into the morning light
brushstrokes whisper stories of soft touch
shadows dance across the glass table
outside the window, sunshine is beautiful
inside, life unfolds in strokes of brilliance
Beneath clouds, spring regales
studded with floral drops
rustic this landscape,
a sweep that brims with purity.
Contest by Line Gauthier
"Seize the day, then let it go" - Marty Rubin.
I capture the first chirp of the bird in admiration.
My heart merges with it. My hands fold in adoration.
The color-changing beams of the morning sun, like prisms, spread
Varnished Verses from my heart, like waterfalls, flow ahead.
The mist dip mesmerizes. The clement breeze caresses.
The untimely rain cools. Thunder, as though throat-blocked, hisses.
Amidst decomposing mango-neem-jack leaves, banyans sprout.
Amidst the sun’s hide-and-seek, shades shred their tinges throughout.
Each bloom tells me tales. Each bee and fly mimes a moral.
Thoughts, words, and deeds, like meadows, seem flowerily aural.
I see soul in each grain. Each drop of water brims with life.
Doesn't here, between good and evil, creep a constant strife?
Like lilies of the field and birds of the air, I feel free.
Why, about an imaginary act, should I worry?
Each split second of an hour has a universe within.
I know that failing to feel this fact within is a sin.
Mirror broken, shard's outspoken
Piercing, rupturing, into her heart
No prisoners taken, her life token
Devoured his latest thirst fulfilled
Appetite quenched, now plied art
As sly innuendoes, master skilled
A journeyman of no consequence
Thoughts brims, he can only blart
Ill poised, insecure, inconsequent
Others taken in by this false farce
So he waits on others info to part
As his truth found, is more sparse
What life, left inside of her, awaits
Her wounds heal, new life to start
Takes note of his narcissistic traits
Waits her turn, given no objection
A fury unfurled onto this dim clart
Fulfils a dream, of pure perfection
A meal worm eats me like a gourd of flesh,
this slimy beast I dread; two weeks or more
until my heart's (that once was young and fresh)
a hole that brims with the plaque of its gore.
Soft-bodied, legless, and writhing, this meal worm,
like yeast that leavens a raw loaf of baked bread,
or phage that necrotizes like a germ,
consumes its host until it's thoroughly fed.
Elongated and portly, like a porcine
(a fat creature and ravenous parasite!)
with the over-sized appetite of a swine,
you threaten me with a sick, terminal blight.
But if I were the brave one, O meal worm,
I'd make a meal of you and watch you squirm!
In the realm of blindness, behold the sight
Eyes, mouths, bodies, and feet in desperate plea,
Caressed by brushstrokes, an artist's decree,
A gem with facets, dripping only with you, so bright.
With each stroke, layers peel, revealing anew,
A different you, forever altering the scene,
Canvases portraying joy, or madness keen,
Yet always, it's you, basking in Regina's sun, true.
Trembling lips invite, the question lingering, why?
As lips brush against strokes, the paint, desires sprout,
The canvas brims with variations, there's no doubt,
A mirror of respect, to which you try.
It chuckles, amused by its own growth and might,
Witnessing a blemish, so grand in its scope,
The rose drips, blushing with natural hope,
A struggle, the bloom and its flush unite.
Passion ignites the eyes, a flame untamed,
Refusing confinement within mundane frames,
For every woman, a sovereign, she claims,
A queen in her own right, forever acclaimed
My Love, how she laughs!
And brims with delight
As she breezes along
The sun in her lap –
A glittering pose
Becomes her, just so
In her whimsical hues
And idling flows
And when she sighs
And shifts on the sand
Aglow in the night
The moon in her eyes –
‘Tis all I can stand
Myself, but a man
Drenched with a thirst
Alone – and upland
And when she cries
And weeps in the rain
Oh, that I!
Could take her away
To fields where we lay
And lessen her pain –
And when she roars!
And leaps – mighty leaps!
Her passions – asleep
Awake from the deep
To settle the score
That all lovers keep
Of madness and lore
Of legends and more
That leap – as she leaps
And roar – as she roars!
In the valley, one has been moaning considerably, extensive
for an amount of time, these constraints have possession of
one's emotions, affairs, and partnerships from all walks of
life, there will be chronicles of ups and downs, profits, and losses.
Ya'll it's been immeasurably a refutable volume of time, it's
becoming apparently, one is emerging, circulating fully of
fervor, hyperventilating, brims over, sobs echoes, screamingly
outcries, one's coming out of these days of low frequencies
treading the valleys.
Sub Categories
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.