An arbitrary effigy
Enacts its own soliloquy;
Concocts a taste sensation
Fit to consternate a nation.
What's an ethical conundrum?
Sinful, existential ho-hum!
Guaranteed to whiten whiter
Never lit one cross on fire...
Yet the sugar pills create
A side effect that won't abate -
You're free to spend more time prostrate
Than one can ever stay awake.
Now your own somnolent scream
Conducts a constant marching theme;
Reverberates the eight of Rome
As sifting sand toward sunken home...
If as you glance up at the sky
You still sense wonder from on high -
If with every labored breath
You'll glibly force another step -
Seek some meaning midst these words
Although the cadence is absurd:
NeVeRmInD tHe BuRnInG;
ThAt JuSt MeAnS iT's WoRkInG!
in midtown, twin clock towers chime.
their peal resembling tumbling coins.
procrastination, now a crime,
consummate idleness purloins.
youth may clutch her bottled seconds
to transact on a rainy day.
she addresses urgent errands.
handsome faces gallop away.
i've seen my own spring and wither
between these effortless minutes.
cherished vanity's coy sliver,
wasteful without observed limits.
i'm liquor-free and off-caffeine,
walking in sunlight on cool grass.
crunch my vegetables, staying lean,
extra sands upon the hourglass.
lost my rosaries. almanacs!
are charming nooses, rave and posh
pocket planners build sky-high stacks.
moments have no spares, cut the bosh.
shouldn't spend my flowers wantonly,
chastising walls, scaling degrees.
there's never enough time, truly
to claim wealth from its poverty.
A secret folds within the Sky—
No mortal hand can part—
It swallows Suns without a sound,
And drinks the Light from Heart—
A velvet Thief of Radiance—
It steals what Stars confide—
And whispers to the Universe,
What cannot be denied—
The Dark—becomes a Kingdom vast,
Where Time forgets to go—
And Gravity, a patient Host,
Conducts a silent show—
I wonder—if beyond that Veil,
God hides His Shadow—low—
Within this sanctum
of breath and bone—
ten trillion anchorites
mimic their devotions.
Bacteria threading
blood’s vermilion rivers
braiding holy water
into the cathedral
of now.
Their alchemy transmutes
starlight
into the wine of existence—
decanted
from Orion’s mythical vine.
Viruses—
those threshold wraiths
between being
and unbeing—
inscribe new verses
in the living gospel
of our chromosomes.
Fungi a cappella
in mycelial tongues
through marrow’s moaning chambers
decomposing resurrection
from each small death
we die.
We are not hosts—
but cantatas
still composing themselves
in light.
Each cell—
a verse rehearsing resurrection.
Hark:
your pulse conducts
this unseen choir
where mortal breath
becomes immortal song.
And in this sacrosanct
communion of kingdoms,
we learn
we were never “I”—
but a constellation of prayers:
timeless,
boundless—
Bacteria
Viruses
Fungi
Me—
becoming
one.
Expressions
of spirit
the music
plays on
Beyond any
verbiage
or words
come and gone
At high
elevations
each note
takes you up
To reach
into heaven
where feelings
conduct
As harp
strumming Angels
with harmony
strong
Play chords
of acceptance
to guide
— you along
(1st Book Of Prayers: June, 2025)
Trump,
he's not perfect, admittedly so, but who of us is?
He can be crass, he is brash, and he'll even talk some trash.
He's not hiding who he is. I much prefer knowing who I am
dealing with, than the last joker we got screwed with!
Biden was an unscrupulous thief, selling out our country
for financial gain, with his bagman son!
His administration and the cabal of despicable bureaucrats,
who were actually pulling the strings, while covering up Biden's
obvious mental decline! At least I know who's running the country now.
Yes, sure there are things I don't care for, regarding how Trump
conducts himself, but what I do know about him is this, that he wants
America to be Great, for me, for you, for us all, and since this is the
country I live in, I want that too!
So, in the meantime, I'll put up with a few character flaws!
"The earth has music for those who listen."
- George Santayana.
....................................................
The rhythm on tree backs from woodpeckers' knocks,
With rustling of leaves as the trees moan in winds,
The roar of the falls down the hills thrills the flocks,
The whistling of gusts through the space in our minds...
Nature conducts its melody soft yet grand.
Written for the contest: Write Five Beautiful Lines
Contest Judged: 3/14/2025 9:53:00 PM
Sponsored by: Constance La France
Placement: 2nd
Red flags forsworn, my trajectory fell
Into the gravity well of your spell;
My soul is intact,
My body in fact -
Split between love or lust, I cannot tell.
You are a rogue element at my core,
The current conducts me towards the door;
But my body, lame,
Hard into the game,
Outcome forsworn, it charges for encore.
Laws of physics applied in humankind,
Amplify frictions of a human mind.
Attract or repel -
Yet under the spell
One human law’s evident, Love Is Blind!
With only twelve keys
the music commands
Some white and some black
their harmony grand
Scoring the melody
eternal and free
Whether Quincy or Frank,
Prince, Peggy, or me
Heaven the audience
Angels out front
Truth for a drummer
Sandalphon conducts
All time in abeyance
the chorus in song
Both gates swinging open
—the silence is gone
(The New Room: April, 2023)
Fall's bright colors are taking flight like birds on the wing
It's the right time for a clime change and seasonal transformation
brisk winds whisk leaves in plight and can no longer cling
Autumn sends a note that portends a change is in the air
Months of holidays and sublime door displays in celebration
of prime family feasts and Halloween beasts that surely scare
There are ripe fields to harvest with care and yields to measure
Nature conducts bright scenes as she gleans to write an orchestration
of Winter snows and light woolen clothes, a season to treasure
Oh, Symphony Sunrise, where hues ignite,
A celestial canvas painted with light.
The dawn's first blush, a rosy crescendo,
Whispering secrets the night could not bestow.
The sky, a stage, where stars begin to fade,
And clouds, like dancers, in the shadows play.
A symphony of colors, soft and bold,
A tapestry of gold, and crimson, and old.
The sun, a maestro, with a golden bow,
Conducts the orchestra of the morning's glow.
Each ray a note, a vibrant, soaring sound,
As darkness recedes, and light is found.
The trees, like silent listeners, stand tall,
Their leaves, a chorus, responding to the call.
The birds, their voices, blend with the sun's light,
A vibrant aria, in the morning's bright.
From slumber deep, the world begins to stir,
Touched by the symphony, a brand new chapter.
A promise whispered in the morning breeze,
Of hope and joy, and life that never ceases.
So let us listen, to this wondrous art,
The symphony of sunrise, that touches the heart.
For in its beauty, we find grace anew,
A reminder of the wonders that life can imbue.
8/24/2024
Moonlight or Sunrise Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Ink Empress
Meowlu the cat, with fur so black,
Sings meow-meow upon his back;
His purrs are soft, his whiskers long,
He loves to hum his favourite song.
At night he wakes and stretches wide,
Then to the window, he glides;
With tiptoe paws and eyes so bright,
Meowlu steps out into the night.
The moon shines down on the grass so green,
Where Meowlu starts his nightly scene;
He mews a tune for all to hear,
The nighttime creatures gather near.
With crickets chirping, frogs in tune,
Meowlu conducts beneath the moon;
Till dawn arrives, he takes a bow,
Then home he trots, with one last meow.
Rippling soil sways in ways
In ways a maestro drunkenly
Displays their baton, Earth in
Perfect fluid Earthen motion
It conducts and plays en tandem
The symphony of syrup season
Rings through Vermont’s silken air
Each movement weaves effortless
In majesty.
Hickory smoke leaves the sap house
The chorus of birch bark harkens
Weaving through the chimney’s maw
A mirror of the lone sugarmaker
His jaw a practiced spile, he is
The arch in the evaporator
With a puff of Cuban Affair kush
He admires the beauty of the
sugarbush
Timeless lyrical,
compassionate dance,
a shifting effect
of light and color,
the glowing full moon
conducts in folk tune.
Indispensable
distant humble stars
spring a russet, sign.
White unfolded wings
flitter wayward round
a rhythmic beating
in shadow, chill, air.
The spike tuft ears owl
melodies hooting,
influence passion.
A lovers' heartbeat
keeping steady rhythm.
A starlight guides the
way by windswept night.
Caused Steinbeck reword "Mirth" known printed write,
harmony pulse conducts the marooned cell,
though breaks, wisely kept in tune with itself.
The gauge's clicks sway one to soothe its height.
"Each and All", "Earth Song" Emerson's ballad.
Unversed preexist's renewed care recalls.
Harp rhythm strings strum as the organ pedals.
Rhapsody ensures airy suite valid.
Calm reflects symmetry, pleasures belong,
deep voices grants the life-timers acclaim.
Solemn occasions psalm, heartfelt gifts claim.
Unsung Heavenly pace grow the swan song.
invites internal hope vibrates anew,
renewed life rewarded, heartbeat pipes true.
Sub Categories
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.