her steps rhyme with mine
an echo between yearn and daunt
I ask her to keep pace, her shadows pine
voices behind me, slick and gaunt
—the phantoms want to keep her
the light ahead hazy, yet I demur
we’re so close—or too close
panic surged deliriously, in prose—
my eyes turn to my asphodel...
her lost shadow whispers: ‘farewell.’
"Hush your crashing," whispered the moon to the sea,
as the sound slowly faded from the mermaid's laughter.
Luna heard only echoes on the shore, a silent symphony
that had been ebbing across the sea, perhaps hereafter.
Often, when moonlight glimmered its soft celestial light,
she would allow me a brief glimpse of her golden hair.
It rivaled the glow of stars in the sky's ebon night,
but no longer is she here, swimming in shallows there.
Her dulcet voice was as lovely as any seraphic hymn
How I longed for the possibility of getting closer to her,
but I feared she'd be frightened if I went for a swim.
So, I gave up on that desire, thinking it best to demur.
The shoreline has become desolately quiet and bleak.
No longer does the mermaid ride upon a wave's curls.
No songs from the mermaid, whose vision I now seek.
No sighting of her tresses, nor her necklace of pearls.
Flash, prance, shout, stare, glare
He's there, everywhere.
Locked in, stuck in snare.
Always in your face.
Focus locked in place.
Attention is grabbed.
Distraction has nabbed
Any free thought, stabbed.
Topics shift, switch, drift,
Avoids being miffed.
Avoids shun and shrift.
No time to dwell think.
No time to smell stink.
Chaos reigns to blur
Shake, rock, smash and stir
Away the demur.
When You Are Old Poetry Contest
Sara Kendrick
Yeats' poem describes his courtship that sank
With his misconnection he is bitter
And he takes digs at his beau's true glitter
Alluding that his fire drew her blank
He paints a now-and-then picture of her
Saying he'd be the one holding her hand
Should old age leave her without charm and bland
Yet she wasn't guilt-tripped at his demur
She then cashes in with another man
Which likely prompted this poem's planting
And Yeats' mocking her with his self-ranting
Saying his being was dwarfed by her span
Best Romantic Poem 12/13/24
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Perfumed Romantic Bower
Twilight calls me with a soft amber light,
Into delicate scents of memory,
To a fragile bower of fragrant nights
Your saffron smile, a perfumed mystery.
Through gossamer hues of incense demur,
Fantasies flutter like silken moonbeams,
When we sip the honeyed nectar of myrrh,
And savor sweet spices in whispered dreams.
Scents of tuberose merge with star jasmine,
Draw us into this garden’s scented glen
Where the pulsing of bluebellvines entreat
Enchantment from your flute song sung again.
Love’s dulcet scent of ambrosia transcends
Our perfumed garden, harmony ascends.
You've seen the sunlight
now you mask your pride
Friends tell you where to go
Keep on a straight line
peaceful shades of green
strides past you
There's a commuter strip demur
back to cover hes read his Daily Mail
the burglued fox languishes
Making sense of the passing years
Lost in a wherewithal
Is it time to change ?
to purify your soul
or cry to the wind?
Golden light appears in tier after tier
As if Mother Nature were on a spree
Fall's magical splendor each passing year
Transforming the colors of every tree
Colors she chooses are all warmer hues
Flaxen yellow, marmalades and pure reds
Old russet and bright chartreuse to confuse
Over dark forest floors boldly she spreads
Is it winter coming she would deter?
His icy breath blusters as winds blow cold
As in years before — Autumn must demur
Silently wearing her golden blindfold
Like drifting leaves that fall by the roadway
We'll return to life some wonderful day
The clock ticks on the wall, a constant reminder
Of the time slipping by, a relentless chider
Through the city streets I rush, seeking an escape
From the ceaseless routine, the endless retape
Each day seems the same, a monotonous blur
As I search for a path, a way to demur
But every turn I take, every street I roam
Leads me back to where I started, a place called home
The city lights flicker, a colorful array
As I wander the streets, searching for a new way
Every loophole I find, every crack in the wall
Leads me to the same destination, trapped in this fall
But still I keep searching, for a way to break free
From this cycle of madness, this unceasing spree
For though the city may bind me, it can't break my will
To find the light in the darkness, to climb the highest hill
J. K. S
Persuade me otherwise
But it began as an accident
Fission of a product of a single incident
With fate sealed, hoped it’ll turn out prudent
I, the aftermath, with a seal sans consent
Then came ululations, in pretense to inaugurate my arrival
Pampered, nursed with velvet hands, my presence was primal
As the days spun backwards, promises turned to fables
Soft nursing hands withdrew, center-stage took squabbles
I thought I’ll be handed a manuscript
Bearing tricks through the life’s loco swift
Lonely and lost in the midst of the Congo jug
Location locus pure plug and chug
With no direction`s aide memoir
And in intermittent demur
Am tapering and wading through the hazy
At times choosing wrong and ending messy
Knee-deep and neck-deep in trouble I wallowed
For the one trick whispered to me and I pillowed
Its never late for fresh start, not stitched to a single road
Under the tidal wave I’ll spring overboard
From mud, I’ll shower clean and I’ll glee
From fortunes shall I not flee
If you see me not ramble
Am not out to gamble
Perfumed Garden
Twilight calls in soft floral amber lights,
Delicate in the scent of memory,
To fragile bowers of fragrant delights -
Saffron smiles wrapped in scented mystery.
Sinuous silk plumerias of myrrh
‘Twine satin fingertips ‘neath musky mantles
When gossamer hues of incense demur
Bluebellvines bloom in soft chimes with candles.
Tender scents of tuberose, sweet jasmine,
Float from this shy perfumed garden glen
Petals spread wide as lotus buds begin
To welcome gentle moonbeams touch again.
Trembling seeds arouse spice scents on bloom's skin
As in pure union harmony ascends.
7-14-22
Contest: It's All About the Three Q’s
Sponsor: Constance La France
Theme: Nature
Rhymes check with www.rhymezone
Syllables checked with www.howmanysyllables
Quatorzain - 14 Lines, 10 Syllables per line
Bluebellvine is a flower in India.
Love the love
that loves you most,
love the shadow that
provides you shelter...
But always love life
that offers you all,
sans demur... !
Senator Kristen Sinema negotiates only in private
Which drives her colleagues and reporters crazy-irate
I think if America had 49 more Senators like her
From all their ranting and raving the rest would demur
I want to discover a new way to balance on the tightrope.
I don’t want to push forward,
Nor do I want to roll backwards.
I surely can’t stay in one place for too long as they say,
But who hardly has time nowaday’s to rot at this time of age and wait for the grim reaper to stamp the big red “decay” onboard our faces?
It’s so unusual to walk backwards on my hands near the unknown.
Perhaps moving side to side will sub-due for now,
Until I falter to the choices of my extemporaneous circumstance.
I hate it when a old saying that is so bland & bleak such as,
"What came first, the chicken or the egg?"
Picked and rot out the black caged doves brains so intensively.
I say it was the soul that resided within the body & not the body forming around the soul.
Well of course they would react the way that they did,
After all, they’re impure imitations of false angels.
Without further notice,
If you are only keen to the idea of viewing our redundant self-loathing behavior in a black or white demur for the rest of your lively days,
You’re hurting your egotistical mindset and malnourishing your heart.
Often, my hands are tied when my clever muse
fills my mind with her thoughts that are profuse.
Sometimes my poetic intentions are lost in a line
because she's of the opinion hers are more divine.
She has a take-charge attitude, void of devotion
completely ignoring my heart's romantic emotion
Quite frustrating is she, but I dare not complain
or she'll give me nasty looks filled with disdain.
It's true, she's felt the ecstasy of love much more,
but I didn't know that she had been keeping score!
She slips into my visions and ideas when dreaming,
a feisty muse who resorts to outrageous scheming.
I should not allow her to tie my literary hands,
but she's a task master who makes harsh demands.
She tells me she has experiences as an old soul
so I should write what she renders. I've lost control.
She's off on a whim and thinks I can't do without her,
unknowing I write when she's away. To her I demur,
but I've sonnets, verse and Haiku inked from my pen.
If she knew she'd be madder than an old guinea hen!
The person you see
that's not really her
you need to take time
she's not so demur
She might seem quiet
look boring and old
but take the time
because she's solid gold
Get to know her
see the person inside
outside is scars
the past that cried
Wild at heart
so happy and free
funny and clever
and full of glee
Her heart is so bold
she'll help you along
anything you need
she'll always be strong
Don't judge by looks
that's just a cover
the person inside
the one to discover.
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