The absolute reign of night lasts forever
And throbs from wet drums within lengthen its royal reign.
Constellations stud the lashes with midnight views;
Salutations from the owls’ wing-flaps welcome the
Sponge web of the womb of this hour
And the sable-garmented, freezing, old, festered
December day lives on.
Arrangements of coloured words without voice begin.
Prompted by visions of midmornings coming
In the wake of blurred moon rays,
Thoughts are patented.
Purple Dreams In Other Realms
Once upon a magical evening an enchanted fairy I happened to see
dressed in a fantastical dress with two dappled wings of lace,
she shone like the midnight sun;
I must confess, she looked rather whimsical
sitting there by a green wooden door, waiting for your lore !
~
Violent nightmares in vivid visions
In a time supernatural charming captivated enthralled
Vessel covering naked garmented barbed in paired appareled
She shone like the moon at dusk, solid full of herself
Spaced in time fanciful quirky aesthetic happily gay
Covered in the purple draped in laced satin coverings awaiting a man to love
Purple Dreams In Other Realms
04/24/25
For Purple Dreams In Other Realms Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Mystic Rose Rose
Still unwritten not quite, filled in
every word has pinned itself to story
like a sewing machine stitch
down a runway path to somewhere;
Turning points and zig zag threading
let the seams tell of the glory
Pages of my life sealed inside a book
like bookends at a fairground
holding steady until the rider mounts;
Still unwritten not yet ready to wear,
this garmented padded book of tales
isn't finished yet, ...
Until a dried rose gets pressed
against the pages of my life,
my eulogy stands told
in my book, of life.
I have relinquished my stage;
content now to be a silent audience
watching myself.
I observe that garmented voice
as it feed words into digital fonts
watch it act-out in a dimly lit theater,
a small auditorium yet it reaches far.
Occasionally this jobbing actor
glances my way
suspecting he is being watched,
he may take a bow
in my general direction. or clear his throat,
as if apologizing for an under-rehearsed
performance. It’s just as well
he cannot see my face.
If I were not there to listen
who would be so understanding
or patient?
Metaphorically speaking,
who would sweep the stage, turn off the lights,
then write a play or plot for the next time
that voice needed to play its part?
The mind was old before it came upon you,
it took your shoes
made you walk upside down
in an inverse eye.
Pray tell, is all well?
Now expostulate your lip tripe
and see if any much broken soul
cares.
Keep your trapdoor mind,
your garmented flapping pockets
so full of the disavowed,
the cancelled out widow weeds
of fake sorrow.
Be not evermore, be not even now.
As always there is much to be taken back.
Also & nevermore recorded,
the mind sticks, picks at scabs,
wanders away forgetting.
Thunder, you full throated seas,
thunder in the full and swollen veins.
Tell us what words hate,
tell us, be not so mute as a rabbit
fox cowered in a shivering burrow.
The baby crib was born to whimper.
The baby lamb pushes at the nipple
whimpers just the same.
Wimple and weft, leave the weeping
to the sanctified, the sacrificial.
The mind was old before it came upon you.
It took your shoes
made you walk upside down
in an inverse eye.
Pray tell, is all well?
Now expostulate your lip tripe
and see if any much broken soul cares.
Boxes of emptiness rattle their lids,
all of them would fit into the blundering,
never before seen sundering
of man in woman and woman in man,
a devil in an unmarked van.
Keep your trapdoor mind,
your garmented flapping pockets
so full of the disavowed,
the cancelled out widow weeds
of fake sorrow.
Be not evermore, be not even now.
As always there is much to be taken back
from nothing.
A common green
Garden hose coiled
Slithering head bright and erect
Suspended over the gaping crowns
And roots garmented in soil
And I
At the foot of glowing tree
Or flower bush
Tend my garden alone
Whip the flickering water like a tongue
Venom white the foam
Through the innocence of light
Falling
In spatters at the frigid root -
A second promise of life
The leaves bowing
From the blinding force of spray
Turn their dripping mouths away
The upraised hose deseminate
Not I
The hose would lead you to conclude
As if it was the primary source
The water's fount and feed
So I
Kept my eyes in constant watch
On the uncoiling trail in the quivering grass
Inch after inch, inching at my heel
Its rigid head between my fingers twitching feels
The slippery clasp of power
Upon the brooding hose.
Then caught my eye
A butterfly
Meandering away ... something I long to grasp
And let my fingers moan each tenderness
Of silken dust it yields
To tell the softness
Of death, cold, inanimate
Left rigorless
In the imaginations frightened clasp.
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.