There are no bands in death
They are in various states
Lifeless in varied postures
Brought for different reasons
Some palsy and age took their toll
Others victims of premature machinations
Many fell from jealous causatives
A lot from envious enemies
Modest number in the line of duty
Protecting the sanctity of fatherland
Oh yes the occupant of this space:
He was the community’s tallest
His height wrestled and intimated iroko trees…
Now vanity
This lady…
I remember
Had a voice sweeter than a Nightingale
Her shrill high pitched soprano
Bordered on the corridors of falsettos
Cracked glasses unending
Vanity upon vanity
There are no bands in death
Bones litter a grave’s mouth
As cleaved and cut wood upon the earth
Philosophical quandary:
Point of no return
Cessation of cessations
‘Fallacy of misplaced concreteness’
An end to spectrum of living
To the living the dead never die:
They are always with us
In songs, stories and legacies
They may fly away never to be seen
Only on JUDGEMENT DAY
The rest is for us to live right
Walking the old paths wherein our Fathers walked
For there are no bands in death.
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
*Image of Cave, Stars, Sky, Tunnel by Pixabay.
Of Infinity
Source and aim is ... vast consequence,
Wherefore controls ... take prominence,
Greek's Alpha meant ... primal ascends,
Omega states ... constants transcends,
Cause steadfast edge ... oppositeness,
Expansiveness ... span conscienceless,
Space an abstract ... not concreteness,
Wander spirits ... lodged comprehends,
Source and aim is,
Between the two ... points wantonness,
License demands ... subconsciousness,
Omnipresent ... joined broad bookends,
Christ's the answer ... prize providence,
Infinity ... stretched mixed strengthens,
Source and aim is,
2021 November 07
*1st Place*
This or That, Vol 8
~~Edward Ibeh: Judged 2021 December 05
*HMS & RZ
Just as there is the ethereal,
love is possible and exists...
love is the virus of health
that everyone wants to contract...
Love is the greatest concreteness...
We don't eye it, but we catch it,
we drink it and eat it....
when rule's concerned as a whole
total concreteness there's not seen
on the same world climate differs
language religion and many been
red blood smells differently on earth
even in same family and in same country
in polluted love true feeling's blurred
for self gain polishes self colors bluntly
wherever and whatever be anything
nothing's left to be unchanged in time
to love and feel in body heart's fixed
alas, now lung's love going to be prime
from the inception rule has been broken
history speaks in pages worldwide
for selfishness humanity's been crying
by breaking rule world's dreaming with pride
That rule was begging to be broken - Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Lewis Raynes
You spread your fog of iridescent hue;
hide well realities of black and white
beneath your dazzling drops of diamond dew.
Then shadows turn to piercing rays of light
that shock the heart and race the crimson blood
to momentary madness of the mind-
to soon be swept away within the flood
that leaves mundane reality behind.
Yet, like the fog, you slowly melt away
to bare concreteness and once more redeem
the white and black and gray that somehow stay
to overpower the psychedelic dream.
But leave behind one dewdrop as you flee-
for art is cut from gems of fantasy.
The Art of Black and White
The art of black and white photography…
Majestically, this art does not portray
Mixed colors to distract the viewer’s eyes
As they absorb the beauty on display.
The contrasts, boldest black and varied grays,
Can wake up eyes, with definitions deep
And crisp, to make strong statements that are felt…
While colors sometimes put the scene to sleep.
Emotions felt in black and white are keen…
Concreteness of the boundaries define,
While colors blend, their definitions lost
To mellow feelings by their soft design.
The photograph in black and white screams out
In purity of curves and lines that show
Intensity of form cut to the chase
By glow and brilliance seen on stark plateau.
Poetic, yes…the art of black and white
Photography, intense and clearly bold…
So dominates our view because this grand
Dimension offers beauty to behold.
© Sandra M. Haight 2015
All Rights Reserved
~1st Place~
Contest: Black and White Film Photography
Sponsor: Giorgio, A.V.
Judged: 03/30/2015
Iambic Meter, 5 feet, Rhyme: abcb
.
Charlotte’s baked brown, navy white
Reddish as kidney with lots of black peppers
Eat it before you go to bed
But don’t eat in excess.
The more you take, the more you toot
Creating unpalatable air.
The magic beans grow very quickly
And gets you all the riches
But without the concreteness
Of the dust to hold the beans’ roots.
It’s like spending much time with money
And have plenty of time to weep
Neglecting joy to live with the family
In that sense the magic beans are worthless.
+++
January 15, 2015
Dr. Ram Mehta
After the organic death
of soaked breast,
I put up tiny islands of eyes
in spooked water.
The dead were coming back
to live on the terrace
amidst the roses
of roof-garden.
I talk to flowers to end
the war. The light was waiting
behind the hills and
birds were ready to sail.
Were you afraid of mother
earth or roaring sky ?
The corpses are standing in row
to receive the mighty wrath.
Satish Verma
In the beginning there was only concrete.
And we loved it for its concreteness
Since it was all we had.
And then there were roads on the concrete
And with them we wished for sweaters
And cell phones
And painful memories
And sins for the washing away
And love in quick, fast boxes
And chocolate with cool, white ice cream
And hot, mind-peeling tears.
And we want all this,
Forever and forming.
Everlastingly we blink and carry on.
Our only unwashed stone of thought
The first slab of concrete
We prized like an early morning baby.
For this is all we had.
And all we had to feel thankful.
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.