There was a moon over Paris—at noon
misplaced in space?
Awakened too soon?
noon moon,
I saw you floating alone
without a cloud in the sky
without a night of your own
And with the moon flying high above me
like cloud made of magical stone
I felt a wish I made celestially
might save me from being alone
noon moon,
I long for someone to care for
some one that I could be there for
someone to call all my own
.
.
Songs for this:
Blue Moon (feat. vGumiho) by Derivakat
Blue Moon by The Mavericks
One cannot reach and grasp them
pluck them from a dark branch of sky
shake the mystical glitters loose to rain
down heavenly treasures of knowledge
perhaps such contents should remain translated
only by the languages of prayers and wishes --
---------------------------------------
Guardians of planet secrets --
light years apart by design,
some creation logic to great
distances I imagine
on our very own earth
often alien to neighbors --
fences and walls as those
regions of mysterious, isolated
space --
would be wise -- for science matures --
make note of knocking before we celestially enter
maybe the Gods know best?
I consumed it once, to avoid my loneliness.
I felt—wow—euphoric! Was I walking on air?
Was it a celestially blessed coziness?
Wasn't it like being in nature's divine care?
I saw crores of rainbows surrounding my being;
I was sailing silently on a sea of peace.
On clouds of endless ages of time, I was skiing—
Gulfs between deaths and resurrections seemed to cease.
How long will all these last? I did not know. I slept.
What did I find except darkness when I woke up?
Like a child born only to die, I bleakly wept;
There were only slips of lips on my broken cup.
Why chase a ghost and mock your inner need?
Must not the soul break through its binding weed?
crystal wealth pours down
celestially grace-bestowed...
curse drenched midst blest cries
CELESTIALLY GRACED LOVE
The day has its sun,
And the night, its moon;
I’m blessed to have you,
Each day and its night:-
For your love is as
The cosmic beauty,
Reflecting the shiny glow
Of God’s divine light:-
As you are the ever glowing
Sun and moon of my heart,
May I likewise be of your heart:-
And may God forever grace us
In this onederful onement of
The oneness of our love:-
CELESTIALLY GRACED LOVE
The day has its sun,
And the night, its moon:-
I am blessed to have you,
Each bright day and night:-
Your presence is as the cosmic beauty of God:
Reflecting the shiny, glorious glow of His light:-
As you are my ever glowing sun of my day,
May I ever be your glowing moon of your night:-
I murmur like a rivulet through the
hitch of your hands, where the canyons
carve their parched longing into your fingers—
where silences sublimate like cera,
pooling beneath your glissando touch.
Your tremolo breath convulses rough and low
like sibilant submersion in water—
spilling, sinking, staining everything it meets.
I watch the estuary of your gaze split my horizon—
watch you hush abysmal eyes into
celestially arched surrender.
There is no stillness between starlight,
only the pull of mighty magnitudes,
fuses lit beneath the ribs,
pulses and throbs teaching the air
how to cleave—how to…
sforzando!
Love, here, is neither reserved nor reticent—
it is lightning bottled in glass—
hellfire burning beneath the tide—
language that deconstructs
even as it is uttered.
I step forward—some faltering cadence,
some submitting ascension—placing my hands into your fire,
not to be consumed, but to remember
how stars revel and rain.
The sky is a cloudless crystal blue
with a breeze to chap your lips
I’m grateful for it, it’s heaven-sent
the dawn was a celestially stamped, angry red
sailors take warning
It’s going to get feisty cold,
I’m told
about the time we go back to school.
A polar-bear vortex with all its features
will spread its icy paws
What jumps out at me first
is how it could be worse.
if unapologetic nature
pounced sans disclaimers
with a cold worth semi-Shakespearean verse
What follows, star-crossed
is a week storm-tossed
a winter holocaust
with heaven-kissed frost
that only madness would call a judgement
We’re steered from harm
by precision alarms
stay warm
sweet friends
wrap up, stay in
.
.
Songs for this:
Come In from the Cold by Marc Broussard
World's A Changing by The Bingtones
My heart seeks the smoky quartz sage within you, in secret,
like a solitary star adrift in the whimsical wilderness.
For I remember your voice, that manifested mellifluous musicality,
nurturing vain verses to thrive like lavender-incensed lilies,
glowing with sun-stroked flames of empathetic iridescence,
emanating sealed serenity amidst the archaic darkness,
crawling above raspberry-red roses, waltzing in silence.
Tonight, I cradle crooning clouds, soaked in sleepless sapphires,
as the petrichor breeze serenades your unconditional love,
that quenched my crestfallen quill, releasing cashmere calligraphy.
But if poems could speak, you’d feel the wildflower warmth of words,
how, once upon a camellia crescent, I found my inner rhyme in your sea-foam sonnets,
unveiling a cosmic collage of a sojourner soul,
healing from timeless tokens carved by familiar strangers, celestially aligned, forevermore…
I am the afterglow of a sanguine sunset~
airbrushed with patience by the power of your peridot pigments,
as your tongue is the mindful maestro, and I, the essence of your charismatic choir. …
I'm raised in SoCal, calm weather agrees,
and you, from Boston, know weather, severe.
Our states of mind match these climates I fear.
Like Winter sadness, leaves fall from your trees,
and then I'm missing those green absentees.
Like Summer, a hot flare up may appear.
The reasons are celestially unclear.
Oh, how will I deal with moods such as these?
Deciduous trees, specialists in change -
variety and beauty they will bring.
These shifts do add the color to my life,
as days with you I would never exchange.
In Winter, I am sure there will be Spring,
and I'm happy that I made you my wife.
I find delight in poetry and math.
I like to follow intuition's path.
In the beginning, I pick up a scent.
In the end, no one knows what I meant.
There is more to life than meets the eye.
Nature's beauty makes us wonder why.
In math and poetry, I can explore
To find creation's essence and its core.
The symmetry found within a flower
Wields a seductive, enchanting power.
A mathematician or a poet
Makes his sacred goal to truly know it.
Fibonacci's sequence expressed in plants,
Pythagorean tuning, Gregorian chants,
Hyperbolic orbits, traced celestially
Have no need for poetic hyperbole.
Life can be a puzzle or mystery.
This poet/math student's eyes try to see.
I know less than a percent and a half,
While God, upstairs, has Him/Herself a laugh.
In poems, tears flow from my eyes like a fount -
Since you left me, an ocean is the amount -
And I would sure like to live without 'em,
But the math's not done until I count 'em.
Emaciated test-tube mutations
Raised apart in pristine distillations
Conceived in dexedrine celebrations
and the crazed, ecstatic inhalations
of the professor’s choicest pheromones
Right-angled, inverted, and star-spangled
Drained and dangled till their nerves were jangled
Nearly psychedelically strangled
Quantumly, at a distance, entangled
On celestially balanced microphones
Their unproven kaleidoscope harmonics
Haywire mk-ultra histrionics
Phosphoric rhapsodical symphonics
And their backward time-lapse polyphonics
Transcribed on interstellar xylophones
For homunculus scintillations
Splintered, syncopated oscillations
And desperate mute gesticulations
No one beats those galactic sensations
Our own mad-twin Splitzmodic Vibratones
That rambling castle across the landscape bewitched my heart
As though divinity has signed, gorgeous is its art.
Are the cherubims relaxing, spreading out their legs and hands?
Are these archaic, ornate boulders on mountainous strands?
Cave-like, carved curvy corridors crookedly coil around
Vertical and horizontal length, width, and depth rebound
Celestially thrill-filled, airy arrays in sunlit style
Are Hephaestus and Athena spreading a sapphire smile?
Points, lines, planes, volumes, and magnitude speak tonnes of volumes.
Are these flawless frills and folds parts of angelic costumes?
Gloriously intricate, cosy carvings, and wide wings
Brim-fill with cosmically grace-filled mimetic mouldings
These sprawling, spreading, sturdy structures seem to symbolise
Incomprehensibly divine marvels that synthesise
Short, long, sharp, and blunt; straight and twisted mortal existence
That draws, from the spiritual source, its soul sustenance.
Of all the times I spent at sea,
The most cherished was blessed night.
Beneath a laden luminous landscape,
Unshaded by harsh unnatural light.
Cast amid gently rolling waves,
With both eyes celestially bound.
Enthralled by a crystallized reflection,
My pulsing heart the only sound.
The warm salty scented breeze,
As we sailed with the ebb and flow.
Awashed with a heightened purpose,
While the crew slumbered down below.
I found my thoughts slowly drifting,
Towards all the wonders I had seen.
From life aquatic to foreign lands,
Surfing highways of deep blue-green.
It cradled me with peace of mind,
That others would never share.
My spirit had been awakened,
And refreshed beyond compare.
The universe and I becoming one,
Though a speck of cosmic dust.
Knowing my soul was sated well,
Which satisfied my galactic lust.
Now with both feet firmly grounded,
Upon the grass of my home state.
I feel compelled to once more travel,
Aboard a briny ship at Heaven's Gate.
Time is endless - that’s what they say!
When I meet you,
in the gossamer amber twilight...
sun leaving, painting the sky
with a glistening vermillion aura,
feels like the clock is ticking,
the moment is fleeting,
too fast!
golden past feels celestially poignant and eternal,
never escapes my crimson mind...
present is intoxicating and infinite,
Never loses its blazing, limitless charm!
A Strand - 1069 Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Brian Strand
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