think …
of the abyss …
unimaginably, unbearably cold
pressure that turns bones (and flesh) to vapor
eight tons - sixteen thousand pounds - per
each … square … inch …
a darkness quite unforgiving -
blacker than black
and yet …
LIFE …
burgeons in multitudes
otherworldly creatures that create their
own light in rhythmic patterns
fantastic organisms that
are so strange and striking they look alien
such an inhospitable world
yet things thrive …
I …
am such an abyss
intensely cold
a darkness beyond black
deep and desolate and bleak
compressed by encumbrance and a disquiet
that can turn bone to vapors …
pain that has no nerve
unbearable wretchedness … without origin
acerbic tears that do not drip -
they burn … and fester
but …
things live
odd creatures exist here -
freakish beasts of indeterminate shape and ire
that feed on joy … and purpose
they crawl and creep
and shiver …
and wait.
Like upturned earth on haunted eves for which the beasts replete do seeth toward crisp remoteness the zepher stone burgeons and clasps those boney hands and ushers toward us. Indeed, the fallow are now spent, they rent those waters for healthier hands, but pure and brilliant are not synonymous with a hot-to-trot village filled to the top.
Walkers and pickers
Of countrysides, fair.
Sweet briar; cherry blossom.
Trailing arbutus.
Follow. Whilst love-teared, too wide
Struggle most that look to hide.
Tender and nervous.
As rich, thick-scented
Whose rarefied air.
For what burgeons, peculiar
To poetic thought.
Sacred in soul's kindred sense
Breath it in as twere incense.
As devoutness ought.
c.rosseti
e.dickinson
Sorrow is the one thing we show
Like a tear I caressed your face
Life unkind burgeons
wild shadows
hoover nye
A light may
shine one day
Don't torture your mind
Ride a carousel that never
touches the ground
Like any transition Summer springs from a bud and burgeons into bloom, fulfilling the legacy of nature's constant change of state. Gone but remembered.
From frolicking in the sweltry sun to a cooling composure - the questing quill sows its elucidating wisdom to embark on a final journey - crafting the legacy. Gone but remembered.
Autumn! Season of fecund harvest when poets forage for mocking muses amidst the gaudy palette of fading charm. Gone but remembered.
(Sonnet / Lipogram) No letter "A"
Blooming buds dispersing sundry perfumes
Mellifluous tunes of ebullient birds
Butterflies come out of their cosy rooms
Soft verdure on verges nibbled by herds
Burbling brooks run under the bulbous dome
Modest cloud-cover with blowing soft wind
Gentle showers dripping down on the brome
The spring's resurgence delights every mind
Pristine life sprouts from the womb of the turf
Your comforting presence nurtures new life
Soft shoots burgeons out of the tough scurf
The joy of Zion unrolled without strife
Spring, the queen of spells on the wheel of time,
Poets cherished their thoughts in its prime clime.
Like an avian roosting when his cawing has spilled,
I mourn in grief as this shadowed night grows cold
Crushed and grieving from promises unfulfilled
Sorrow burgeons my heart, in bitterness enfold
like unspun wool on a distaff or a poem not quilled
I am overwhelmed with fear; somberly weeping
beneath my rowan tree. In dour thoughts, I dwell
Wisps of silver moonlight cross the sky, sweeping,
signaling hope in darkness, as if it were a death knell
In my den, I feel protected; sanctuary of safe-keeping
My troubled eyes are in search of benevolence anew
For faith and courage instead of such dismal dread
How I long to take flight, trading grey skies for blue
to locate a paradise where happiness can be spread
sharing a drink of wassail; fruited ale of sweet brew
I shall swiftly soar among shining stars at great height
Fluttering my wings on journeyed path of poetic volition
Never again to be lost and alone on any mawkish night
No shadows holding me in their melancholy perdition
for I've learned how to ignite flames of lambent light
whate'er the sun
hunts up the sky
is meant, as lace
to grace the eye
in dazzled dreams
that dance a-sea
and weep that fills
the rills and leas
for what light paints
in day's dear death
can gift one’s gaze
yet steal the breath
as eve’s dark bloom
thus burgeons, ours -
sweet butt’ry moons
… and silvered stars.
( for the “No 1256 New Poem Only” Poetry Contest, Brian strand, Judge/Sponsor )
burgeons’ aroma
myriad hues of festoons
mother earth’s birthday
Spring Haiku - Traditional Form Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Tania Kitchin
Syllable count : PS
Date: 29-03-2021
Placed: 5th
Ancestors Of old times
Time their visits to me,
In dreams and visions wake,
Awake me to the spirits I seek,
Seeking to renew life,
Living for tomorrow…
Tomorrow begins new
Newly wishing I’m free
Freely speaking my heart
Heartfully making songs
Sung inside this souls place
Placing it in life’s view…
Viewing the chaos realms
A realm where change blossoms
Blooming with new vigor
Vigorously starting,
The starts growing right up
Upward summer burgeons...
Burgeoning words blowing
Blown by winds directions
Directly unbound air
Airily circulates
To circumnavigate
Cirrus highs and fogs lows.
Tommorow
Tomorrow who knows we won't be together
Unlike yesterday's tomorrow might be separated forever
May not be holding hands beneath our happy skies
In future our love's river frazils of twined emotions shall not shine
Tommorow these deep valleys may not echo our names back
Frazile vase of our passion may develop a plummenting crack
The starry diamonds diadem's might not glisten with this alacrity
Deluged in their rays let's paint our heart with love's insanity
Dreamy moments spent might fly away to yonder
Never to return as passing day leaving trailed wonders
Our voices might not melt to fall deep in our hearts
Where a world burgeons serenading breeze are a part
This fading eventide sun might not rise with this splendour again
Shoreline of heart's horizon shall remain damp in our eyes rain
Tommorow we might be miles apart beyond vision's range
But our souls morphed as one can ever change
19/11/2018
Sponsor- Edward Ibeh
An iron portal
as brittle as a tear
in memories
or moments
designate
a miscreant burgeons
from emotions
the graphic artistry
of expendable smiles
to bypass hope
and linger in a clause
of could be
Yet the thrust
has to wretched put you
a glinting steal bloodied
by your heart
leaves you wrenching on breath
the choke
the broken despair
can lay no claim
to comfort unwanted
for all of agonies penitence
and purgatory
swallows you whole
There is no God
no justice
bitterness stamps it’s mark on all those pages
this inundation desperate
devours all logic
searches
though devoid of any meaning
but the ghost of a reason is all that you want
You would so wish to lay blame
yet it is no-one and everyone
who stands at fault
you are no more
and if sorrow could write the words
it has written them
with embers
into your soul
And one more mothers child
dies unknown to the world.
The eyes opened
As withered leaves were strewn on the forest floor,
Alone and sad.
As creepy as silence
Smothering the subtle heart with its fumes
Engulfed in dust.
Looking around,
In the swarm of bees that it was -
None appealed to its love.
Insecure, afraid -
None to free it of its nightmare
That is eternal.
Pangs of hunger
Coveting acceptance as it exists,
Who helps survive?
Who helps nurture?
Born in the lap of serenity
It's sole world.
Curious but restricted
How far can it see, distinct and beautiful?
Desperate to relate?
Yes, somewhere
A similar world has come into being;
A curious eye.
While zooming those,
For a moment those meet, awestruck
And know it all.
As serenity conjoins
The beating warmth of life,
Warmth is evolved.
Then him and her stay
And those become they, for life burgeons
As friends do meet.
As is the generation of leaves
So is that of humanity
The wind scatters the leaves on the ground
But the live timber burgeons with leaves
Again in the season of spring returning
So one generation of men will grow while another dies
As is the generation of leaves
So is that of humanity
The wind scatters the leaves on the ground
But the live timber burgeons with leaves
Again in the season of spring returning
So one generation of men will grow while another dies
Adapted from The Iliad
Homer
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