Engraves Poems | Examples

The Phases of Faces

heels spin to worn paths,
mask grimacing yesterdays—
eyes not quite so sure
if this swerve of direction
is up down or whatever

sky stares down the gaze
but chin is still uplifted
as rain lashes face—
challenging storm's resurgence
mirror's stance of defiance

cliff gave no warning
of free-fall rocks in full view,
with no hold to siege
in the up-down tailspin crash—
to pucker up start again

chisel gouges bone
features blurred recast remade
as the past erased—
yet the scar itself engraves
phantom in impost's shadow

two mirrors collide
eyes locked in a frozen glare
neither one will yield—
defiance sharper than blades
masks slam together head first

shards spill out from glass
reflections just don't matter
tattered unravelled—
what remains is radiance—
that shines from the self within

It Will Always Rain on Me

It will always rain on me in all seasons. 
Seasons jacketing me with dust, 
Dust mostly from the dry season to absorb my hope.

Hope fractured in different ways in time, 
Time unendingly discoloring my soul. 
Soul trying to resist by pleading for light.

Light that kills darkness but dies in startling grief. 
Grief that mostly engraves my title. 
Tittle mirroring it will always rain on me but is lost to the wind.

Wind screaming through forms of pain. 
Pain that hurts my brain and heart but bastes my skin, 
Skin that wears signs it will always rain on me.

Poem by N. Mugisho

epiphanies dawn

magnetised palms and tingling feet
collaborate with our third eye
moon and the sun bring forth cool heat
toroidal heart lets out a sigh

our breath outpost, tip of the nose
signals readiness for action
although we remain in repose
all nodes within form gain traction 

present in the eternal now
the vast ocean observes the waves 
each God-spark smiles and takes a bow
loving intent on heart engraves

Grace Knurls Decrepit Gnarls

Grace can't grind away the wrinkled gnarls time obeyed,
Nor hide the snarls, ploughed as furrows in the brow.
It carves the knurls for grip that age has disobeyed,
To a shape what decrepit, flailing lovers can still avow.

Grace respects the knurled design that time has hewn,
That's not a flaw, nor fault, but a form that time engraves.
With old branches twisted, scarred, gone too far to prune,
Grace hugs the bumps and twists that life well-spent saves.

It's the gnarls of age that knurls the grip to rage
Against the blight of the coming of the night,
Despite the cranky snarls that ring on anvil swage,
As loved ones bare the brunt of frail days plight.

So let the gnarls knurl the grooves to grip tight.
To fight and rage against the fading of the light.

Hair Composition

Her hair dances like the cascading stream, 
murmuring in the silence of dormant dreams.
It’s more than an element of graceful façade,
the curls carry a crown of style adornment.

The onyx hair cataracts elegance untamed, 
swirls in the stream of longing squall 
on the ivory template of her forehead,
engraves the contours of her charisma.

As the melting clouds drizzle on her,
luster flows on the shining strands of ebony,
rave rapture drenches her with surreal hue,
pristine pearls glide with the rhythm of symphony.

A bun flows with fluid finesse and engrossing charm,
a bob helps handle the workplace hassles with ease,
a pixie cut boldly highlights the facial features,
a braded motif plaits the strands of beauty secrets. 

Whether worn long or short, curled or colored,
the hair composition isn’t just a fashion narrative.
It’s a powerful symbol of identity and self-expression,
a reflection of the persona statement of who she is.

Ignorance

I hate how it always ends up like that.
How I get ignored for several hours.
And reply within a few seconds.
To think that you didn’t care as much as I do.
Engraves a sense of solitude in my heart.
I can’t call myself anything but a fool.
To hopelessly stare blankly at a screen.
How can I have these emotions, however?
Every day I greet you like it’s never the last time.
Reminiscing, overthinking but never hating you.
Ever wondered if you noticed those emotions………………? (will you ever do?)

Contour Of Charisma

Ebony hair cascades untamed, 
swirls in longing squall 
on your ivory forehead,
engraves contours of charisma. 

Eyes flash sapphire sheen, 
flutter in yearning air, 
enshrining design of dreams 
away from wilderness wind.

Rosy patina smears cheeks,
zephyr spreads luring scent. 	 
Enchanting visage of glamour  
entices me in reverie. 
 
Luscious lips of rose,
sparkle with lilac luster,
quiver as satin petals. 
Your smile I capture.

The Last Smile

The ebony hair cascades untamed, 
swirls in the stream of longing squall 
on your ivory forehead canvas,
engraves the contours of your charisma. 

The blue sea eyes dance with alluring waves, 
butterfly lids flutter in the yearning air, 
fold the void fabric of undreamed dreams, 
for they drift away with the wilderness wind.

The crimson cheeks soak the rosy patina, 
spreads seductive scent in luring zephyr. 	 
Enchanted hue rippling with elusive glamour, 
transfixed on your visage, entices me. 
 
The luscious lips unfurl the rose bud,
mesmeric allure sparkles with lilac luster.
Silent words morph into pearls on petals, 
radiate the flash of your last smile, I capture.

Memory Montage Mirror

"The pure heart is a spotless mirror in which 
images of infinite beauty are reflected"


In splendorous devout space of my pristine heart, 
shimmering in the sanctified radiance of indigo night,
you gleam like seraphic sequins of the moondust, 
I feel fascinated as I sense your sapphire sheen.

My heart morphs into mesmeric turquoise lake,  
where the rose petals flying from my garden float 
with reflection of the facsimile of your florid face,   
my essence engraves the beauty of heavenly intuition.

My heart swathed by silver streaks of stardust sparkle,
pulsates at its crescendo with the concerto of ecstasy, 
where the beauty of your enticing ballet I see imaged,  
suffused with moonshine my mind mirrors your charm.

My heart becomes the replica of memory montage,
as the receptive perception pattern of divine love   
configures the enticement image in kaleidoscopic collage, 
the unsoiled mirror of my heart reflects your beauty.

Karmic Wheel

That overlooked, we become,
Tracks us down, like a hungry wolf,
Eventually catching up, devours us,
Leaving nothing, but itself.

That forgotten, returns,
Haunting us, night and day,
When least suspected, it floods back,
Taking with it, all we seek to protect.

That which we pretend to be,
engraves its name upon us,
for all to see what we have become,
and what we are no longer.

And so turns the karmic wheel,
around and around,
until at last,
its work with us is done.

Buzzard

Why dare I task thick clouds on their own turf
With smug like immortal engraves my wing;
The rain— for my feather to wade and surf
like lightning is sweet and thunder but Nerf;
I, the pilot and the plane, soar and spring
and my tinted tiny wings duck and swing
and beat against the wind on its own turf
and kiss the sky with lying lips— a fling.
Because the ground revolves for naught but shame,
And grows only to fall by its own hand,
To wreck little birds, to burn and to maim.
Not the gravel nor ocean is a friend
Not man nor his hand that kills for no aim
He burns us all while he dies where he stands.

Footprint

 on the
             hour glass     track
            within time    I did    stroll
              for long      while    on the   sea
               shore        alone    along  beach  calm
             lapped     by the      waves   that   rush
           from the  domain    cobalt   these   crush
        with pearls of foam string spreading on the
      glistening sands of time that  engraves my
      footprints I have left walking the present
      embedded now in the realm of the past
        where they can no longer walk back
           but can only watch them being
            washed away by the tides of
            time into the deep depth  
           of oblivion while I make 
         new frail footprints on 
      the hazy track fading
      as I am walking the
     remaining stretch
       of the last mile
          unattached

A Symphony of Nature

Amidst the rustling leaves and gentle breeze,
The symphony of nature never seems to cease.
Birds chirping melodiously in the trees,
A musical ensemble that's sure to please.

The rustling of the leaves like a soft lullaby,
A soothing melody that can calm the mind's eye.
The chirping of the birds, a joyful tune,
As they dance and play beneath the moon.

The rush of the river, the crashing of the waves,
A harmony that nature constantly engraves.
The gentle patter of the falling rain,
A rhythmic beat that helps ease the pain.

Nature's orchestra, a masterpiece divine,
A symphony that plays with every breath and line.
Each note a wonder, each sound a work of art,
Nature's symphony, forever in our hearts.

Vermillion Sky

Scarlet dawn’s amethyst dye engraves vermillion sky
Embossing amber dreams upon nightmares of night
Blushing rosily on ruby arc, glinting mountains high

While reddish filaments woven in lavender float by
Scintillating morn in golden glimmers of daylight
Scarlet dawn’s amethyst dye engraves vermillion sky

Autumn’s crimson leaves fall, rustling languid sigh 
As daybreak adorns lilac in brushstrokes of delight
Blushing rosily on ruby arc, glinting mountains high

Where dreary dull dissipates as cliffs of hills beautify
And awed eyes are drawn to eagle’s majestic flight
Scarlet dawn’s amethyst dye engraves vermillion sky

Enticed by sparrow’s quest when robins trills a reply
Enriching brilliance of aura, motifs in mauve excite
Blushing rosily on ruby arc, glinting mountains high

When panoramic passions of fall endearing vibes vie
Embroidered in patterns floating on iridescent sight
Scarlet dawn’s amethyst dye engraves vermillion sky
Blushing rosily on ruby arc, glinting mountains high

November 18, 2021
Poem of the day on November 20, 2021
Placed 1st: “V” New or Old Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Constance La France
Theme: Vermillion

Romance of Cold

There are thirteen steps
between you and I
each one creeks
in my blood
engraves my mind

you stagger and climb
the small stairway
toward a bed
that grew so cold

sheet swelling in sweat
from wrestles of words
letters drown in river abuse
egos of fatigue old souls

satin blanket of lavish
gave comfort of none
chatters in restless slumber
ticker forcing faint beats

I crawl out of this wretched bed,
thirteen steps between you and I
every step squinting more blood
my limestone plateaux eastwards

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