Sculpting tinges periwinkle, eventide paints on arc of ruby skies,
Sunset dreams of freezing eve, longing warmth of moonrise;
As realms gelid waltz, where light-beams with shadows dance,
Shuddering boughs, quivering vistas, swaying barren expanse.
Prairies frozen glimmer, resplendence of pristine falling snow,
Where decaying colors of fall, in remnants of autumn glow,
When twinkling cosmic rivers, on tapestries of Milky-Way flow,
As frosty moonlight glistens knolls, of shivering terrains aglow.
Quietude dwells in grip of winter, where lakes and rivers froze,
Where beauty shines reflecting light, gleaming blustery woes,
Of shorter days, of time glazed, mellowed in golden sunshine,
Ceding to lingering nights, glinting in glamor of heavens divine.
I was there when love became you.
It spread across your eyes and smile,
left a breathless caressing hue
and whisper of softest beguile.
Aching for your gentle embrace,
yearning for the pulsing heartbeat
that your touch fetches with its trace
skimming my skin in burning heat.
I succumb to your calm shadow
arching with fresh unbound pleasure.
Growing fury of ebb and flow,
recurring sensual treasure.
You raise my heated eagerness
with sweet, sultry, seductive eyes.
My breath, catching in meagerness,
ceding in dramatic surprise.
I arise with feverish flush
designing a rhythmic motion
to entice, encourage first gush
in raw unrestrained emotion.
Ah, my love, will you stay with me
forever and further behoove?
We shall grow in greater degree,
you and I, without vain reprove.
My love, my skillful seducer.
In life, I dedicate my all.
You have become my producer.
In death, I'll hear your lustful call.
Your salacious murmurs teasing
torrid desire in me anew.
Your voice passionately pleasing.
I was there when love became you.
"What is life but a succession of preludes to unwritten words . . . "
Quote by_Constance La France
The creative urge of our vibrant soul
articulates poetry when it heeds
pulse of divine consciousness we extol.
Navigating life to fulfil our role,
without any doubt love magnetism leads
the creative urge of our vibrant soul.
To rise from limitation and feel whole,
drawn to love’s beauteous rhythm soul needs
pulse of divine consciousness we extol.
Knowing our aura is blackened like coal,
oh hermit, know God's boundless grace yet feeds
the creative urge of our vibrant soul.
Making unique music, being our goal,
empty like space, purity of heart speeds
pulse of divine consciousness we extol.
We paint the canvas by ceding control,
as the burning yearning to ink love seeds
the creative urge of our vibrant soul;
pulse of divine consciousness we extol.
14-November-2022
HMS, Rhymezone, PS Grammar
Theme: Writing
WRITING CHALLENGE - ''V'' Forms Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Constance La France
Host of Infinity
Guardian of secrecy
Gently ceding gateway
Uncharted oceans vessel
Sailing from ambiguity to concreteness
Symphony of numberless truths
Supreme revealer of the unknown
Rewarding those holding the posture
Correcting the stare and fine-tuning criterion
Wizard who breaks the spell
Cast on by false conscience
And its obstinate madness
Enhance my senses with your aroma
And take in your wings to pleroma
Leaky Poets
dripping Prose
Words secreted
left unchose
Wanton memories
twisted lies
Moment’s bartered
naked I’s
Love on steroids
feelings burn
Swelling heartache
pages turn
New tomorrow
old reprise
Armageddon
death’s surprise
One more time
into the breach
Last wave ceding
from the beach
Leaky Poets
undisclosed
One word answer
—no one knows
(Dreamsleep: May, 2022)
Oh! how gracefully the trees, flaunting splendor lilt
Swaying autumn’s palettes in rhythms of winds ruby
As the sun is setting, flaming glow of gamboge skies
Amber breeze is blushing rosy glimmer of eventide
And robins are excavating pecking on decaying lawn
Where ducks are ambling, ogling seductive bond
Amid people strolling, pausing to gaze at opaline arc
Floating crimson filaments on tinted purple canvas
Enhanced by falling colors whirling mellowed vibes
In twilight’s golden ambiance alluring romantic eyes
Gleam of eve’s fading, ceding reign to peeking moon
As scent of you appeals, quiescently enveloping me
Enchanting where I sit, under twinkling stellar magic
Enticed by euphony of mockingbird’s sensuous song
Articulating for me eloquently, love is never too far
When autumn blazes passions titillating lovers’ hearts
October 20, 2021
Placed 1st: Let’s Mix It Up Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Constance La France
Theme: Nature
Unrhymed couplet/Unrhymed imagism/Free verse
He gave himself over
ceding all control
sharing his deepest
darkest secrets
his financial dealings
his real estate empire
even his past romances
with his new wife?
-- No, not with her
with his adult children?
-- No, not with them
with Bernie Madoff
I stand before You
Man, the crown of creation
a speck in the cosmos, if that...
i bow before You
ceding my will
to do Yours
i pray before You
my words straining
to be heard...
I retreat from You
go forth into the world
strengthened by Your touch
November breezes in with style
Autumn zephyr carries a smile
Multihued leaves, they float around
Before dancing down to the ground
Hope flames high on smoky bonfire
Melting out hatred's dark desire
November dreams make it worthwhile
Autumn rakes up the leaves that pile
Gold and bronze and russet abound
Chromatic colours sure astound
Love burns in our humble heart's pyre
Kindling faith when we most require
November knows Winter's hostile
Therefore it lets Autumn compile
Various patterns on leaf mound
Dazzling the eyes, while we're spellbound
Life plays under God, the dyer
Before ceding to snowy mire.
10.29.2020
Checked with www.howmanysyllables.com
For William Kekaula's "Lay November" contest
Purple smile
Of mauve evening
Kisses
Magenta sky,
Arousing passions
On hushed arc,
Courting
Evenfall.
Sun dips
In ocean,
Ceding to
Moon’s quixotic reign.
Bird songs romanticize
Night’s
Rendezvous with stars.
May 15, 2020
Placed 1st: Pick-A-Title, Vol 17- Yalto- Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Edward Ibeh
Lines 1 to 15: 3,4,2,4,5,3,2,3,2,3,3,5,6,1,5
Placed 3rd: Brian's Choice N Contest
It's always been an uncanny pleasure of mine,
To behold the tetchy affair that thrives between
A gregarious man and his choice crimson wine;
For each loves and loathes in equaled measure.
How both meticulously give and evenly take
To seal the crack that coerced giving claims,
Each ceding ground and forgoing their cake;
And daily perpetuate these love-hate games.
Firstly as the wistful man uncorks the shields,
You'd guess he'll guard the control he wields;
But when the foamy guest oils that willing gut,
Our bloke capricious grows and red eyes shut.
Consensus is drawn and he should grab more,
For buck's there and calling home stands near;
Just a daring thought and some spoiling for war,
For the world's sick and all stationary objects go.
You own it's a profound sight quite rare and fine,
To meet daring men and their dear crimson wine.
I love mornings when the moon
realizing the evening is not quite done
lingers a little longer in the sky
before ceding the heavens to the sun.
There where the sun is on the field
I walk aside its wheaten yield,
pathway strewn with golden ceding
of some growth beholden, deeding
violent gales to cast to earth
too soon to consummate rebirth,
some sterile grains of bread of life
beneath my feet a sacrifice.
Small death among the congregate
that feeds to us the common fate.
Hoodwinked I blinked, and the magician winked.
In a flash, the feint of hand trick had worked.
My eyes diverted, led by the nose to look away diverted by hand gesture.
Eye beguiled to follow where the magician's eye was looking.
When I looked back the three shell covers,
with pea under one, looked untouched, unmoved.
But he knew I had been duped, tricked and bamboozled.
So which shell had been swapped and switched?
The trick was to know if the trickster
knew that I knew he had time to swap
the shells around while my gaze was averted.
But perhaps his hand had passed over the shells, moving neither pea nor pod.
Perhaps this was the true trick, after all.
A blind double-bind act, knowing he knew I knew the feint of hand trick.
I looked the magician right in the eye, binding his eye to mine ensnared.
Slowly I crept a finger towards the shell
that the magician had podded the pea under, right at the start.
To my delight, I saw the magician's eye sigh just slightly, ceding defeat.
My blind double-bind mind game had worked a treat.
That gift of reason
has led me
some would say astray
for I see faith in fable
as ceding response
ability
fundamentalism
indoctrination of ignorance
indelibly
bliss of all bliss while
I submit
to this glorious sky
waiting for bliss to
fly by
for I see bliss as fleeting
on a falcon's wing.
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