My note
I want to write a note
With the taste of bile
I want to write a note
To Samson and not Delila
I want to know in the note
Why Delila didnt have eyes
To see it coming
Why didnt she know it was coming?
I want yo write a note
And in the note I shall note
That I am an investigator
Not an invigilator
I seek to know
Why Samson had to lie
Why he still lies
Why Samson lives on
within us today
And Why the present Delila
Has never seen it coming
I want yo write a note
But i can't see my pen
Has Samson hidden it?
C'mon Samson
Do i look like Delila?
I can see it coming
Mr giant,I shall find my pen!
It's gonna be sooner
Than your long strides
I shall soon write my note
In slate horizon still like a slab of rock
charcoal clouds crept from its crumpled edge,
summer storm rushed with the southern wind,
carrying the cascade of melted splintered sky.
The enticing concert of the whistling wind
and the symphony of raindrops on quivering leaves,
drew me out to the backyard veranda,
I was enthralled by the vibrant beauty of nature.
As I turned on the tape recorder,
played the classical music of Megh Malhar*,
the melody mingled with the echo of remote thunder
and the soft tune on the strings of rain.
Wind-swept raindrops fell on my forehead,
dripped down the closed eyes with chill of silence.
In those mystique moments of exhileration
I was lost in the tranquil realm of frozen time.
Entranced by rhythm of music and touch of ecstasy
I felt the goosebumps waves surge through me.
(*Megh Malhar is a raga (musical notes) of Indian classical music. The name derives from the Sanskrit word Megh, meaning cloud)
November 11, 2019
Contest : Goosebumps
Sponsor : Delila Ventura
I had the strangest feeling
That if I cut my hair
All of my crazy poem ideas
Would suddenly disappear
Like Samson with Delila
I'd loose that added edge
If I didn't keep this mop top
On top of my knotted head
All the poetry would be zapped from me
And I would lose my purpose
Start rhyming things like moon with June
At that point my pen would be worthless
But I couldn't take it anymore
It was driving me insane
So I got out the heavy duty shears
And did something about this mane
I now see the pile in front of me
Expecting the Philistine's to crash through the door
But the only action that there is
Is me sweeping my curley remains up off the floor
I now face the day in front of me
Showing no lack of courage
Continuing in my quest
Of looking for that elusive word that rhymes with orange
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.