Draperies Poems | Examples

Black Colt Vesper

I lay my dark and spiraled finger 
against pure and corded wildwood,
In the wailing current
of the rich wheels of wilderness,
Before the sonant vesper 
of dreaming by a worshiping colt,
Shielded from sheaths of stone
by a tree marked in enfolding moss;
The flashing tongues of rolling air
in fluent, black, and breathing flesh,
Smoking in its morning cloak
of great, weaving draperies of fog:
Steeled ink, lashed still and damp
against the awning jaws of dawn.
And from the deep comes soaring
the melody of waters roaring,
Suspended in elephantine glory,
in masterly paintings of old quarry.

Beth Hart

Her pink okra fingers play violoncello,
Rises from her harmonic throat songs so mellow;
Is she a swallow? A skylark? A Nightingale?
Or the Greek goddess Calliope's sweet-sounding tale...?

An amalgamation of Bach and Beethoven,
Splays open, in and through her, like a vast ocean;
Piano, cello, bass guitar, and percussion,
Her heart and hands try all with perfect precision...!

Venomous feelings of infantile memories,
Childhood and adulthood draperies of worries;
Mushroom-like or monsoon creatures-like resentments,
Repetitions of termite-eating sentiments...

Like palms or banyans or olives Beth Hart withstood,
Worries and cares, though, continued as wild Redwood;
Grim hurt, anger, embarrassment, and frustration,
Could all these, yet, crash her creative causation...?

Rocks and boulders and hard hills, and mountains she breaks,
Earthquakes and volcanoes of destructions she shakes;
"Screamin' for My Supper", "LA Song (Out of This Town)",
Midst best melodic arts, Beth has her laurel crown...!!!


08 May 2023
Beth Hart Inspiration Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Robert James Liguori
Rhymes Checked  At:  Rhymes Zone
Syllables Checked At: How Many Syllables

I Guess You Like Sea Turtles

Her house was decorated in sea turtles.
They were crawling on the walls,
lying around in rugs,
decorating tea towels, draperies and pillows.
I guess you like sea turtles I said.
Not really.
But they are everywhere.
I know, she said.
All this stuff was my mother’s.
I inherited it all.
And you don’t like them?
Not really.
I had no more words to say.

Moonlight Mojo

At the time of ethereal elegance of twilight,
Whenever a voluptuous moon
lolls low on a silvery serene sea
and gilds the canopy of trees,
the hilltops, the meandering streams
and the languorously reclining lakes.

My muse appears to me 
from nowhere like a dream,
Like a flash of inspiration 
to a muddled mind and
evokes moods of mystical ecstasy.

She glides gracefully towards me 
like an elusive wreath of smoke
and gathers me in her embrace
like a silken robe 
hovering around me 
like a whiff of fragrance.

She appears as a stirring
source of fantasy and vision,
Like the magnificent Northern lights
displaying luminous draperies
on a star-spangled polar nights,
Like a spectacular rainbow burst
after an intense shower
Like a shooting star
Like a blessed apparition;

I take her, as one would,
a reluctant bride
with gentle persuasion 
and resilient arms.
 

~Contest: My Muse
~Sponsor: Regina McIntosh

Candle Lit Room

a candle lit room
scent of roses permeates~
                  draperies in flames 




October 7, 2022
Simply Senryu Contest
Sponsored by John Lawless

Cave of Wonders

Cave of wonders,
Caverns so deep,
Through vast rooms I wander,
So many secrets to keep.

The path tightens,
The corridors weave,
Mysterious sounds frighten,
Seeing the magic others see,

Deeper down I go
To unknown steps below,
Exploring further and anyone’s been,
There seems to be no end.

Stalactites hang from above,
Their beauty alone is enough,
Walls covered in draperies,
Millions of years of Earth’s memories.

Deep pools of blue
With emerald green hues,
Waters untouched by any hand,
Stoney beaches with no sand.

Crystals form almost uniform,
Where many cave creatures are born,
Flowing walls made of stone,
Beautiful formations have grown.


With my lantern I decide not to go deeper,
As I stand at in the doorway
I feel like a gatekeeper.
I wish it was forever that I could stay.,
But now home is where I must make my way.

Climbing up inclines so tall,
I tread carefully as not to fall,
Emerging from the depths
I take several deep breaths,
I make my way to the surface,
The thought of leaving makes me nervous.

As I stand at the cave’s entrance
I nod my head,
Until next time
My good friend.

I Am My Block

I am my block. I am the neighbors. I am the stoops. I am the steps.
I am the concrete. I am the windows. I am the roofs. I am my block.
Her mantra kept going well into the night.

I am my block.
I am the Rutherfords.
I am the McDowells.
I am the Hardings.

I am my block. I am the weeds. I am the flowers. I am the mailboxes
I am the tv sets, I am the draperies,  I am the door knobs.

I had nothing to add or edit, so I kept silent as her mantra continued.
I am my block. I am the porches. I am the railings. I am the cars.
I am the pigeons. I am the dogs. I am the cats. I am my block.

Keola - Rhyme

Quote by Vere X. Campbell

Keola – Rhyme

I know people who exist in darkness,
NO persuasion altering illusions,
Not ONE spark EVER pricking the shadows;
their sight IMPAIRED by inky conclusions;
THEIR draperies are ever tightly drawn;
opaque lenses distorting weak EYESIGHT
BY always LOOKING ON the negative,
THE lovely morning viewed as black of night.
I know others facing difficulties,
With expectations of a future, BRIGHT.
They choose the best, the joyful SIDE, of life,
Advancing forward, facing toward the light.

February 28, 2022

Favorite Retreat

I like this room. Gold draperies
we couldn't afford, gathered
to let the outside in; 
sheers tickling the windowsill
then escaping the gape
to gesture wildly at passersby.

The wife's chagrin when the blind
snapped a salute, and I laughed
at Grandma's cane rocker shifting
nervously like she couldn't endure
another round of sighs.

The golden anniversary clock
which hasn't chimed since I
turned twenty-one.

I like this room on a rainy
June day when there's no where else
I can go to think about important things
that ought to be thought about.

Tu Me Manques

'Tu me manques' is a French phrase which  means I miss you,   However, it has a deeper translation " a part of you is missing from me".. You are a part of me...

 

Locked in illusion of wounded feelings and poignant memories
a paintbrush spills the canvas an alla prima of translated thoughts. 
In embellished wet colors dreams entwine tarnished draperies
as shredded pieces connect jigsaw puzzles and scattered dots.
Tu me manques.... how do I align images distorted on blind spots? 




Alla Prima is a painting method where the artist completes his work in one session while the paint is still wet.


Date Written-- 28th August 2019

Writing Challenge 3, August 2019 - Five Lines -

Sponsor - Dear Heart- Wiishkobi Ode

Night of Memories

I always felt safe while
tangled in sheets till dawn
as I'd looked at your smile,
draperies tightly drawn.

Idyllic reveries
of fragmentary memories
painfully pierce my soul through;
melting away without you.



4/5/2019

Poetry Contest :Writing Challenge 1- April, 2019 - Its All About 8 -
Sponsored by: Dear Heart

abab ccdd
6.  Night of Memories

Scaffolding

A little bit broken
Mostly bruised
Partly shattered
Mainly used

No more silhouettes dancing
The shadows are lose
The truth keeps expanding
Soon you’ll cut me loose

Soot stained stories
Darkened pilgrim muse
Aged window draperies
Sunlight scars me like tattoos 

I’m coding
Don’t resuscitate 
Verging on self imploding
Confine me to a crate

Try to hold me down
But I’m going run wild
You got that sweat stained frown
Muddled like we reconciled

Lack there of
I’m trained at solace
The indulgence in drought
Might as well be lawless

Requisition like a grifter
Longing for euphoric
Yet I content to self-gratify
As much a deed as a string tie

My mind whistles
Through the grated cage I built myself
I mazed myself from escaping
Now just another hollow doll on the shelf

Roses In Seance

Tiffany roses circle in séance,
cut crystal vase in a sparely lit room,
round antique table opal in nuance,
ivory candles with saffron in bloom.

Raven shadows deepen the ambiance.
Ashes of roses in draperies loom.
Onyx spinet plays deceptive cadence.
Sequined masquerade masks heighten the gloom,

reflecting with vermillion radiance
the flickering flames of marigold plumes.
Masks on the wall traipse in amaranth dance
as a pale evening breeze enters the room,

the petals and flames a-flutter in trance
as past flower spirits rise from their tombs.

For Freida Calho

Oh Freida who is fingering your shroud?
I can hear you coming, crossing the
old mansion’s tower and can see your
dark braided hair with feathers,
your perfume drifting past and
settling on uncut flowers.
But before I embrace your form,
I want to see with eyes full of flint
the draperies and naked bodies
in perpetual chiaroscuro.
Flirting with your pigments, I want
to dab violet on the face of mist, 
gore sorrow with a riot of crimson-scarlet
and fling viridian on the face of earth to
 be fresh again. Believe me I do not care
 how you handle your brush or
whether unknown empires rise in your canvas
 or knights and plebeians cross swords on
deserted beach.
I just want your blushing glow and
 whisk the Dark Angel into first light.

Knitting Needle Versus Irons

A vibrancy on a washing line is often likened to a knitting needle in a hailstorm. Fold away the parachutes of umbrella and kneel down on a thistle. It is rather comfortable when it is in flower. Dashing darting deriving daffodil draperies. And a large hairy dog playing with a hula hoop. Whirling. Good. Woof woof then. Over nineteen thousand feet the parasol leans into the wind. Ornately dressed in flowery patterns and sheets of ancient chiffon. Curvaceous corrosive callings of a breeze. And a wide angled bucket in a yard pondering the sky. Question not the arrival. Question only the departure. And such is the word of the thesaurus on a train. Hahahaha now go and eat the high tea. Hahahaha flimsy wheeled and heeled skirts and blouses. Crusty blooms. Goods granting gables. And a wand from a stone. Fabled frog frivolities. Haha xx xx number of peas over there chanting pod pod pod. Lovely
 enchanting. Xxxxx gastronomically z

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