She left this ragged realm a couple of chapters back.
Every once in a while, she visits me via dream.
More often than not, the visions are troubling:
contorted limbs
tortured faces
deviant positions
melting foyers of mayhem...
caresses like cobalt
walkways dead-ending
into brambles of soul death.
Attempts to nestle into her dream heart
always coming up shy...
Much like what happened in real life.
I wonder if she was left outside those gates of happiness again...
Poor little orphan girl dancing with her storms.
Circling the drain even in the afterbirth of life.
Flatulent Franco from France frequently farts
Fetid foul fetor fumes fill French foyers
Francophile females feign fainting
Fanning flatus from frowning faces!
Alliteration Contest
Sponsored by Barry Stebbings
11-27-17
UNSUPPORTED CODE
`Shuttered windows
The absence of any corporeal presence
Is counterbalanced by the ethereal essence
Of the Human Spirits still in residence
In forlorn foyers and empty rooms
Vacant eyes peer in unspoken plaint
through dust hazed windows...
seeking the solace of eternal memories
Of long passed children…and weeping widows
Clock long stopped pon dusty mantel
Hands posed o’er numerals Roman
No longer giving...and long past caring
Of the duty of time and chiming of man
Dust motes that caper in fairy dance fashion
Forming in miniature...galaxies and universes
Inquisitive rays of sunshine that leak through
And peek through the regimented rows
Of the slats in tidily ordered lines
In sombre repose behind
…`Shuttered windows...
For G.D
It ends. Good things
always end terribly,
at dawn in his arms
wrapped, silently
or— late in the night
in unchartered apartments
or hotel foyers, over a
fight. It ends. Good things
always end terribly.
(Abhijit Sarmah, “It Ends” from The Voice Under Silence (2nd printing) Copyright © 2016 by Abhijit Sarmah.)
Observe the bending of tree & flower.
To rages; a gale… in tempestuous hours.!
Rain deep in curtain, makes interplay;
Fresh night skies, await the sun in power.
Morn air stirs, Lady’s chinking; breakfast crocks.
Day-streams 'cross backyards, endless blocks..
Splashes as sound; tables, are scrubbed..
Cars all hues; white thru red, too! radios rock!!
Sprinklers now silent; birdsong calls,
Gardener’s clipping the creeper on walls
Children’s cries are echoes around
Fountains splash in foyers & malls!!
Gundog flushes the dove; white ahead!
Tools are re-sharpened in timber shed,
Lilac buds blossom! Midst threaded verde,
In abundant gardens, Man & Woman wed.."
© Joe Maverick.co.uk
To know more about this poem (well you know)
Free trees
crass grass
flowery foyers
fun sun
spry sky
heard birds
nector hector
lovely
but
all lost and of no use
because
it is
chilled will
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.