Chronicle Poems - Poems about Chronicle

The culminating azure ecstasy of the glistening autumn sky fades away at last with the blizzard of the arctic blast. As on the wings of winter the golden leaves fly at the end of their verdant time on the lost canopy, their rustling tune completes the music of my delight. On the canvas of hazy horizon rainbow dreams gleam...

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CHRONICLR a romantic   advance insisted  .discerned catalogued   unstated an elegant   treatise formal & artificial intricately    disposed in a natural circumstance partial & uncertain smooth uniform & unconstrained...

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There are tales of the Old Days Of a time of trial and glory So we gather around the fire as The Old Ones tell their story Wildren Wood may be dying. For the last few weeks it seems We, it’s children, are haunted by Shrieks and moans and screams. The invaders have returned Ringing it with machines of awe Slowly reducing its perimeter Each...

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Over our dead love all leaves of cosmic time fall eternal tears too...

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I have Already past 60 now it pleases me bow to wisdom of those who secure that it will rain and that will it deliver me sweet memories from the one I loved so much... are memories from 30 years ago when in the green years I threw myself to love ! I am glad to realize that the rain turns, even if she does not come together ...

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Lucifer is his name, Full of wisdom and perfect in beauty Dazzled with brightness like a burnished gold Holy and undefiled, he was first of the covering cherubs, precious and magnificent. Stood beside the great creator.. Almighty God rested upon him.. Honored above the Heavenly host, Not content with his position, Disposition and dissatisfaction, Clouded with envy...

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There sat in opulent xanadu, the demagogue of empirical hedonism, his granary once fuelled regal reign of epicureanism: gregarious, restive, much-awaited successor of imperial dominion, neurotic, obstinate, was the cynosure of cynicism. The eldest child of Duke and Dutchess of York, erstwhile Prince of Wales, the proclaimed young heir, stood far...

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the class of summer fifty five left to ply their business lives the office partners just two pens pencils nearly-new clerking the lowest of the low daily drudgery reality soon shone thru' down the cellar ...

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Ummm... . Sometimes when I linger in between the absolutes, I look toward Heaven for some kind of cue, But it seems as if Heaven is reluctant to move. I’m impatiently waiting not sure what to do. Again it seems like I’m the only one in the room, Who hears the hushed whispers Of the unseen Truth. . The frenzied crowd cries out for blood, And...

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Ummm... . Sometimes when I linger in between the absolutes, I look toward Heaven for some kind of cue, But it seems as if Heaven is reluctant to move. I’m impatiently waiting not sure what to do. Again it seems like I’m the only one in the room, Who hears the hushed whispers Of the unseen Truth. . The frenzied crowd cries out for blood, And...

Continue reading...

Ummm... . Sometimes when I linger in between the absolutes, I look toward Heaven for some kind of cue, But it seems as if Heaven is reluctant to move. I’m impatiently waiting not sure what to do. Again it seems like I’m the only one in the room, Who hears the hushed whispers Of the unseen Truth. . The frenzied crowd cries out for blood, And...

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Time then had facile fluidity, flowing like smooth autumn breeze, touching the somber edges of indolent life. You walked in a slow pace, gladly let me pass, held my hands with passion for a long while, waited to listen when and what I spoke. Your tolerance showered cool rains of empathy on my blazed mind in...

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Double Haikus This warm CA spring The exaggerated fears Flu kills more every year . All fear death blood sells All God's goodness forgotten Sucked in by media hell        February 28, 2020 7:30am PST ...

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pillow words and epithets, legends plays surround the saints of poetry: long songs, little songs, collected in verbal ...

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"The Chronicle of Lost Lovers" Lionheart, kindred spirit, my dear Confederate Ghost, Golden Light emits clandestine hearts’ swinging lanterns. Tis shadow play on love struck phantoms - Pendulum incense imprints the air, "The Chronicle of Lost Lovers". Breathe into each other intoxicating Passionflowers, they walk naked through some enchanted sleep. Drink dew from sweet satin skinned hollows, 'tis the foxing...

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