WALLACE S Valley Candle (triple clerihew)
with imagist-poetics once did strive
Enigma in his 'Valley Candle'
helped his poetry to sell well
Wallace Stevens so enigmatic
whimsical fanciful& symbolic
His Valley Candle*blew&blew
the interpretation is up to you
Businessman poet Wallace Stevens
very creative with a poetic pen
A contemporary metaphysical wit
as 'Valley Candle' enigmatically does sit
I dwell within a vault of seasoned pine,
Where cedar ribs trace curves of spine,
A cavern arched with honey-colored wood,
The quietest home a creature ever could.
Above my head, a rosette carved in lace,
Filters the daylight into one small space,
A golden circle painted on the floor,
Where giant fingers stretch and start to soar.
Then wakes the giant—sweeping arm and hand,
Striking the chords above this hidden land;
And every wire becomes a brazen beam,
Shaking the rafters of my hollow dream.
The notes crash down like thunder from the sky,
Making the air vibrate, the dust motes fly,
A tidal wave of brass and silver sound,
That pins me softly to the maple ground.
And when they rest their palms against the waist,
The roaring ocean dies in breathless haste;
I curl up warm beneath the bridge’s arc,
A tiny tenant sleeping in the dark.
i remember the day
i saw my belle.
stood before a great glass window
and oh, she was pretty.
young eyes, innocent cheeks,
one little, beautiful heart.
my glass belle,
whole,
smiling right back at me.
carried carefully
everywhere i went.
she's a delicate one, my belle is.
if my belle were simply older,
she would be worn at the edges.
but no -
broken is the little glass doll inside of me.
hurled,
dropped,
hammered.
and now, all that remains are shards.
and yet, i prize every shard.
especially those that make me bleed -
those that will never heal -
i will cherish those for eternity.
Not long ago,I used to write
about myself,the life I lived
life was dark, the soul was white
I'd be the best,I so believed
Played with words,called it art
sharp they were,truth they said
to the ears sweet, feelings they hurt
to the highest bidder,price they paid
Peak of Everest, challenge I took
Each at a time, I took steps
lower the grounds,up the hook
higher grounds, I slid the depths
Now in vain, with no touch I reach
Hear no sound, a muted world
A throat of silence, lacking peach
chained to earth, in dreams I'm furled
buried dark, daysky
shorn hair from Etain
pedestal opens
now walking eggshells
none will see her fall
welcome midnight
her profile's dab
with missing light —
phantasmic yolk.
foggy pane
more a face
watches glass;
half there
oval
pitch
Let the snow roll over in my dreams,
Let the shore be cast away in my sea,
Let the stage take my fall away,
Let the path take me walking along the way.
The last dawn does not wait for the final dusk,
The last walk for the unknown stride,
The least is the unknown slavery,
The feast is for this tidy courage.
Where I step, I step twice,
Once for myself and another for the Silence.
I worship my Silence along the sidewalk,
I never truly believe in the communion.
Let me clear my voice,
Sleeping is the unseen lavishness,
Running towards the maze is my labyrinth,
Going to be heard in silence and not to be unseen.
Ignore the path that is not yours,
Align with the thought that causes you to walk alone,
Aloneness is the road that diverged in the wood,
The two-forked road that mends my decisions.
Your eyes glisten
and a tear forms.
Your Braille tongue
mouths a silent vocabulary.
The ‘O’ of your mouth
spells out the anguish within,
and with mute hands
you give voice to
an ear-piercing scream.
THE DIVINE CONSTELLATION
You’re the sparkling light leading me
Through the darkness of life’s forest;
Shattering all trying to lead me astray:-
There is no darkness your light
Can’t penetrate—shattering blindness:
Enlightening awareness constellated to all:-
You are indeed the sun, moon, and stars of life,
Filling it with the glow that blinds evil deviations;
For you are God’s divine wisdom and guidance:-
Hippopotomonstrosesquipedaliophobia
An irrational fear of large or long words
Well, you might say that’s for the birds
And it’s your right to have your say
A hippopotamus for most of us
Is an Artiodactyla, an even toed ungulate
While monstrum in Latin means: unnatural things
A monstrosity, a warning from the gods
While as showoffs, sesquipedalians use long words
So don’t scare them with your Titan Arum
But say to those with Ithyphallophobia
Or to the megalophallian “Nostrvia!”
And don’t be calloused towards
What happens afterwards
Or averse to what happens after “words”
In the post coital spooning
Don’t let your creative inhibition
Be the condition of wrestling with tabula rasa
And don’t let coitus interruptus
Or a caudal Janus face give you writer’s block
(I’m trying to be a gentleman
by calling it a phallus and not a rooster)
So, you won’t find here this fear of
Supercalifragilisticexpialidocious
The stars are out and they’re worth considering,
with their glimmering, glittering, shimmering,
like fireworks flickering but more regularly appearing
in the black hole sky.
In Europe there are Ukrainians, Albanians, Scandinavians,
Romanians, Lithuanians and maybe a couple of Canadians,
but out there, in the dark black void-of-space, there are Aliens.
Ok, well, statistically, there are bound to be aliens.
your author has no first-hand knowledge of extraterrestrials
I have galactic questions though—you better believe it. For instance:
If light is the fastest thing in the universe,
why is darkness already there when light arrives?
Could dark-matter be chocolate? and
How can we roll our clocks back if time only moves forward?
This is when having a physicist for a boyfriend is handy
—as well as those times you need a ‘close encounter.’ wink.wink
.
.
A song for this:
Fiction by Yard Act
CanyonsMan/Woman/Chainsaw
KELOIDS OF THE MIND
Mental scars of mind;
Raised reminders of journeys:
Scars of conquered trials:-
GARDENING SELF
Fertilize your mind…
Dig away self-worthlessness…
Nature your self-growth…
OF FAITHFUL FORTIFIED FEET
In the chill
of the night,
pining, piercing pain,
took its toll on the spirit
of my weary pedals:
swollen, aged feet,
seeking Hannibal-like
courage to meet
new sunrise challenges
tomorrow will bring
to a primed soul
still sojourning
struggle:-
Pray tell,
it’ll be God’s will,
that these
worn soles,
will stand
my worn soul,
perpendicular
to the worn
soil of life:
keeping me
in elephant-walking calmness,
in another blessed day, sacredly
still sojourning the struggles of life—
struggles, God streams us overcoming:-
You Cosmic Poetic Butterfly
When your mind—
The c o c o o n
Of your spirit—
Re
lea
ses,
With your essence
Of healing words,
Let the rhythmic
Wings of your being,
Soar you—
Streamlining
Airways
Of life—
Of graceful
Liberation,
To those cosmic beings
In the universe of life:
Awaiting its
Hydrating
Oxidation
Of the
Onederful
Onement
Of the
Oneness
Of your
Ondering
Peace
And
Love.
A QUIET EARRING POETIC FLOW
Quite sun
shining,
Quite green leaves
waving;
Quiet ears
ringing:-
In the silent
night,
Ears ring
quietly
to themselves:
Echoing
to me:-
The ears
continue
To ring
in profound
silence,
Echoing life:
When will
these echoes
reveal
Wisdom
and understanding?
Ringing
silent ears;
Let us give
thanksgiving praise
For echoing life:
Without quiet
ringing,
Would we be
in this loud world?!
Let us
be happy;
Wisdom and
understanding,
Quietly
ringing out:
God speaking
all languages;
Streaming all
our ringing ears:-
Wow, what
an amazing brain:
Quietly ringing
opened ears:-
Ears not only
hear all music,
They also quietly
play theirs:-
Extended Metaphor Categories
Read wonderful extended metaphor poetry on the following sub-topics:
animal, family, friends, football, kids, lion, love, loneliness, moon, nature, yourself
and more.
Definition | What is Extended Metaphor in Poetry?
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Related Poetry Forms
symbol, image, analogy, similitude, emblem, personification, allegory, hope, metonymy, trope,