while my vision bemist, appeared a fantasist
who destroyed my disguise, devised to devilize
A fantasist
alive
upon canvas
surreal
yet..
so very real
his love-for her
not
concealed
there..
floating
for all
to see..
childlike
innocent
his lady
in white
a wonder..
& delight
a tribute inspired by Chagall’s ‘Lady in White’
A strange phenomenon washed over me
and drained my mind and body,
suctioned out the breath of my life.
I equate to nothing, nor shall I ever be
an entity that anyone can see.
Not physically or mentally, do I exist,
cruelly erased on the whim of a fantasist.
Of less importance am I than a grain of sand.
Without a mind I'll never understand
what's happened to me, It's a tragedy!
There's nothing left of me to sculpt in effigy.
Who has the power to rescind my energy,
or does it blow upon the wind?
Have others been expunged like me?
Carl Sagan said, "We are but a mote of dust,
suspended in a sunbeam."
Can this be a nightmare within a dream?
Am I a fleck of dust floating in space?
Have I been deleted from the human race?
What I once was, I am no more.
My grieving thoughts echo with wailing ring.
Without a soul my self-control does not exist.
Does that make me a puppet on a cosmic string?
A scheme that's left me in the dark!
Give me light, give me light!
Ignite just one minuscule spark.
September 6, 2022
Sans Mind-Body Who Are We Contest
Sponsored by Unseeking Seeker
A line trimmer doesn’t really eat;
That’s a trick that would be quite neat.
Instead, it tends to aerosolize,
Throw grass in your nose and rocks in your eyes.
Turns poison ivy to a fine mist;
I know you think I’m a fantasist.
The next event: the shower dash
Or you will break out in a rash.
Correctly named, it sure does whack
And aggravate my lower back.
Leave me alone to be with my maker
Damage done to only be one
Broken undignified fool of a fantasist
Gone from a time once begun
Where dreams were natural to only believe
Potential perfection has now taken leave
With heart now closed to love unknown
As progression to God surpasses alone.
Sarang of my good luck you are the one,
that shelters me when it begins to rain
Merakian soul come be my southern sun
my phosphoresce of day my sugarcane
wild and crazy things that make me sing
like basorexian kisses, sweet as spring
The fantasist in me awakens with desire
to make me feel alive and warm as fire
Querincia lair of love we found our grace,
we are no longer orphans now we're free
to claim incumbent skies of night and be
two amulets of heaven, face to face
shining ever brighter then the stars above,
giving to each other nothing else but love.
May 22, 2021
To Dis a Ray
Tim felt prismatic and took off his polychrome Ray Bans
He had to revisit his novella and needed undistorted vision
To sort out gems from false gold and writer’s confusion
Had he really been so blinded with bands full of colour
Why were so few synonyms for variegations of rainbows
Was he too cheerful or flippant as an unredeemable scribe
The paper oozed with pots of gold and layers of colour
Chakras went up and down spines of meditation and joy
Jesters wore crowns and purple attire to rise from below
Clouds were made for the twilight of tranquil surrender
As he had to write all Peace in pastels on the fabric of hope
Was he really a utopian fantasist who shines through my pages
Repetitive maybe but the mist mixed with sunshine above
Droplets of kindness painted a picture of perfection’s illusion
He had to tweak it because even climbing roses had thorns
So many words in the canon and chorus of dreams and delight
Revising a story amounts will not hinder narration and license
Maybe he will just dis one ray from his tale and see how it goes
17th November 2019
Tempting balm tonics reposed fantasist,
Panacea liquifies mirage views,
Crafts allusive lofts energies persist,
Twain heart's favor lips a desire to schmooze.
Elixir defines the gist of lovers,
Exposes the length of listed measures,
Hearts and souls, supernatural pleasures,
Cascade gifted juice as meant lips puckers.
Charts a course of innumerable sips,
Bottled refinery impatient lips,
Passion extremes supple to its excess,
Forward sweethearts immortal kiss access.
Tinctured herbs ripen souls remarkably,
Drink-filled lovers strengthen eternally.
2019 October 15
Rhyme scheme; abab, cddc, eeff, gg
howmanysyllables;
14 lines x 10 syllables per = 140 syllables total
thinking at you
makes me a dreamer
a fatal fantasist
with paper dreams
what kind of word
are you woman
how many language
i should speak
name it and i will
loud and clear
as you reveal yourself
to me
right now
right here
With eloquent verbosity,
and pompous grandiosity,
he'll voice his bellicosity
to show his intellect.
Devoid of any symmetry,
he'll pass it off as poetry,
but may I beg to differ,
though I mean no disrespect.
Blank verse is what he'll call it,
but no matter how you drawl it,
Mister Webster says that verse
means metric writing.
Since blank means lack of color,
I'll bet two cents to a dollar,
it's not poetry at all
that he's reciting.
Way back when I wore knickers,
there were even then traffickers
in this beat-less rhyme-less writing,
goodness knows.
But things were simpler then, you see.
We never called it poetry.
If there's no rhyme or rhythm,
it's just prose.
They say I'm no romanticist,
and surely I'm no fantasist,
but somewhat a semanticist,
who loves to turn a phrase.
I like to rhyme in meter,
and for me there's nothing neater,
than a rhyming meter-beater,
bringing back those good old days.
CHAGALL EKPHRASIS
A fantasist,alive upon canvas,surreal
and yet..so very real his love-for her-
not concealed.There..floating for all
to see..childlike, innocence his lady
in white,for us to wonder..and delight
Inspired by Chagall’s ‘Lady in White’
KLIMT EKPHRASIS
A kiss,Klimt’s symbol of love nouveau,
suggestive rather than descriptive,yet
of time immemorial.Love upon a cloud
of gold,lost in that moment where time
does not exist.One with the other,alone
and yet..desire..and need in love’s power
then to exist.
Inspired by Klimt’s ‘The Kiss’
Listen to me recite these ekphrasis on youtube under my pen name ichthyschiro
The Lord gave this day for her to enjoy.
The auras that manifest states that
her life is a pretest of what has to come.
Her daydreaming does not harm anyone.
She plays the piano while she reads a poem.
Her hand pauses in both forms.
Her daydream is of her in performance.
Her mind is capture within that moment.
What if her ambitions are not fulfilled?
She fancies fame.
Her auras come day by day.
Her life pauses in craft.
'A Daydreamer' is visionary.
A fantasist that creates her concerts via imagination.
She is subtle.
She is an elusive presence.
_________________________|
Penned April 25, 2014!
For Isaiah Zerbst Contest A Daydream!
-------------------------Fantastic fun forming frivolous fantasies for folklore
Finding foolish facts, foofaraw from fellow fantasist
Friendly frugivorous fawn, fondly foraging forest floor
Famished frogs finally force feeding frenzy for fucoid
Feline frames felonious female fox for frying fowl
Ferret family frightened; flying feathered falcon’s foray
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.