This object resembled a phallus
was stored in a rather large chalice
kept close to her bed
it was many times said
Her boyfriend was often quite jealous
nine of
cupside gold-
en dairies married
silken maid-
ens down to
squeezing milk men pleas-
ing through the
only
partly
wide and open castle doors
No skill alone can shape the sea
of thought; but grace may bend the mind,
and pour vast oceans into me,
a chalice; truth's redefined.
She moves catlike
her ebony braid
swishing majestic
in pearly moonlight
and vaporous penumbra.
Raising a chalice
jade and bejewelled
the lithe shadow
samples golden droplets
of honeyed wine
anointed silently
at a feast
of grace.
One MYSTERIOUS Chalice
I cannot name what nature hides from sight,
Yet hold its vastness in a shard of light.
The stars pour laws into a mortal cup,
The sea bends depth till thirst is filled, not up.
A bird’s brief hue outspans the thinking eye,
An insect burns what years cannot deny.
Thus all we know is less than what appears—
The MYSTERIOUS fits whole inside our fears.
Sponsor: Nette Onclaud
Contest: SOME KIND OF MYSTERY
Date: 9 February 2026
white roses
in a silver chalice
vanilla curtain in bride’s boudoir
one pastel petal on floor
pristinely cupped
purity and innocence of chamber
wedding dress & petticoat
on satin hangers
pronouncement will be made
in morrow
when her soft skin is kissed
tenderly
and carelessly
the gown and petticoat
the old, new, borrowed, blue
and one potent petal
on the floor
below
a silver chalice
of
voluptuous white roses
I the chalice
Overflow with letters
Sylabuls similes vowels
Fusing them together
Written by the feather
A quill in the past
Now on a tablet
Notebook with biro
The words still flow
Poetry is my muse
I try not to confuse
The words written to help
Society from destruction
People self identify
Freedom to ask WHY ?
Words have no agenda
Font can be slender
together are powerful
written words from poets
Inner thoughts of life
Not just anguish and strife
Subjects on any matter
Similes on a platter
Pronouns are historic
The chalice overflows
words above does show
Keep writing makes a glow
Swimming in a pool of blood-
Baptized in my own sins.
Dancing with my demons
Almost as though we were friends.
Soaking in my misery-
And I cannot evade.
The memories inside of me -
That I relive every day.
I've tried to understand.
Why I deserved the wrath of rage.
Or why I had to suffer-
By the hands of the deranged.
No matter what I've done-
(to) erase these visions in my mind.
They leech off of my soul -
And they don't leave much life behind.
I try to carve the voices out-
Which buzz inside my skull.
But then they all pour out-
And overflow my cup, so full.
And then without a second thought-
I'll drink that full cup down.
And then the voices, yet again -
Replace silence, with their sound.
Time for Holy Communion and chalice
Not one for Methuselah-old malice;
You ought to have dumped it at church entrance
To sought redemption give the fullest chance;
Holy Communion with spiritual police
Watches the terribly upset Alice,
Who is right now doing an asked Lord’s Dance
With a rock of a heart and concealed lance.
We all can guess your lame consolation,
Times without number man’s desolation:
“Cord God’s superabundant mercies
He makes sure He applies to all cases.”
This is nearing the chalice with malice
By one sure malice can withstand chalice.
It was on that quiet night, while all the roses rested and reposed
that the angels appeared in the Chalice of winter's bright lit snow
In shiny armor knights of old,
Only quests for the brave and bold,
Famed Holy Grail chalice to hold.
But my heavy chalice isn’t gold,
Mine is night black and filled with cold,
About death is my story told,
A memory covered in mold.
Not expected plain death, you see,
When older age exacts a fee,
Known illness, not surprisingly.
That night was never planned, by me.
Unexpected, this was to be
Black night, black car, walking was she,
Killing her, instantaneously.
Still awake with thoughts of the dead,
My black cup overfilled with dread,
Remembering every word she said
Since shining day when we were wed.
Quest for peace now my daily bread,
Weariness drops my heavy head,
My chalice of the night, from A to Zed.
January 24, 2022
Contest: The Chalice of Night
Sponsor: Chantelle Anne Cooke
.
Chalice of Darkness
Buried deep inside the blinded eye of midnight
My fugitive heart,
Homeless in winter’s frozen wrath,
Seeks an abyss with rotund borders –
A rounded vault of endorphic sacredness
Overflowing with elixirs of metamorphosis
Born from dark dry crystals of crisis –
Angles of anxiety –
Dark womb no sepulcher for magic of wonder.
Rotunda made with sacred walls of purple heart
Where stamens and pistils entwine,
Ferment to maturity in a lightless vessel,
To press against the wholeness of their birthing cup
In a goblet of a chrysalis catacomb
Ecstasy bidding my weeds of mourning
Flame within the grail of martyrs
To pollinate, despite shades of gloom,
Blooms rising above this cupola of blessings.
1-24-21
Contest: Chalice of Darkness
Sponsor: Chantelle Anne Cooke
Purple heart is a hardwood that when cut reveals a nature purple color.
A chalice is a cup. It is also the interior shape of a flower.
Pain pierces, like switch blades, within, I bleed,
Howls of dry weary lands, in mind, I heed;
Heart, haunted, endlessly hustles-bustles,
Sleep so sleepless; fright in fearful puzzles;
Love; its loss; its longing; long languishing,
My chalice is bitter; peace-vanishing...
I hate; yet, her face blows glows everywhere,
Like fallen angel; grayish grave mirror;
Broken into thousand cubes; she in each,
Smiling, laughing; crying; with breach and bleach;
Taunting, tearing, teasing abundantly,
Pain of this bitter chalice sores bluntly...
It's not like Jesus Christ choosing his cross,
Nor like Sisyphus with boulder did toss;
It’s a battle between me and my self,
Worsened with her entry, like tight-locked shelf;
Leave me, cheat, who, now, in another's hug,
I'll drink this cup; die in the grave I've dug...
24 January 2022
The Chalice of Night Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Chantelle Anne Cooke
Oh, drink from the chalice of night.
It is here, my dear, only for you.
Come to me on this starry night
if romance you choose to pursue.
Imbibe, if you will, the sweetest wine.
Oh, drink from the chalice of night.
Come savor these soft lips of mine.
Be drunken with me on delight.
Beneath the moon so full and bright -
like this goblet glistening gold -
oh, drink from the chalice of night.
Your body I’m longing to hold.
Come rock with me, darling, till dawn.
We’ll be soaring to passion’s height,
so until the last drop is gone,
oh, drink from the chalice of night.
Jan. 23, 2022
N/A in The Chalice Of Night Poetry Contest
for Sotto Poet's Your Second Chance 1St Poetry Contest
She visits in the darkness of the night:
a soulless, winged creature of vampire lore.
A shadowless shadow shunning the light,
softly scratches upon my bedroom door.
With my heart pounding, I open the door;
rapturously under her ghoulish trance.
And the moment we kiss, I crave much more,
as we swirl in the throes of our blood dance.
And waltzing to the very edge of time,
each vampiric kiss: begins with a bite.
Slightly nervous, my anxieties climb:
drinking deep from the chalice of the night.
And as befitting creatures of the night;
our silhouettes morph into bats in flight.
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