Under development
Azeur Seme fleur-de-lis, Spencer's chivalry.
Within my soul my hearts sings sonneting
Of Raleigh Medieval poetry, I set sail the seven seas ;
Tis the dance of a B Minor melodic symphony,
The horizon of an adventure awakens in me
Oh how sweet an anthropology gently upon my Ebony and Ivory ,
Azure Seme fleur-de-lis heralds our welcome home
Within my soul I draw near to land ;
Every note my diaries quill penned
Ne er will my adoration fail your fair hand
And the Sun riseth once again upon our welcome home
Oh how sweet an anthropology gently sings in harmony
Azeur Seme fleur-de-lis harks the Angelic symphony;
Sings my heart and my soul together in sychronicity.
Today I awoke in a new place.
My drawing of the curtain shades
revealed the rays of Summer’s Sun
peering at me through the leaves.
O what a glorious sight it was
It filled my soul with such delight
To think that this is the same sun
that lit the world when time began.
I then recalled that I was formed
by the same One who made the sun.
The connection I felt with the sun
harks back to when we both began.
The fact that life needs light to grow,
that trees and flowers in sunlight bloom
and that the sun banishes gloom,
points to a time when things began.
We expect day to follow night
Like lost souls trapped, we look for light.
And when at last the first rays appear
We’re filled with hope for brighter days.
Creation’s light still brightly shines
reflecting our Creator’s love.
When we connect with God’s dear Son
We’ll find our lives have just begun.
Vitriolic stances generate vicious marks.
Sweltering, an irritating swamp of sadness.
The bold spirit is infused with pitiful dark.
Levied by cruel words exuding madness.
Each genius suffers fools that ruin their harks.
Parades of enormous egos in the sky.
Thinking, they are clever in their eyes.
If you follow the fool, you will run dry.
This sense of pride links the beat to the rise.
The patient’s head horn was extremely high.
If you seek fame, they shun the white feathers.
Going by water and fire pulls you near.
Stiff work is vital for raising bright ethers.
Each step takes us closer, great or mere.
Bear you via a mirror and dispel your pressure.
Written: October 10, 2022
Tryst edged ... Aurora whisper serendipitous saffrons,
e'er forging balms beamish strands to aerate crown's expanse, whilst bestrewn
lissome mists waltzes amongst errant gasp caught in rapture.
An ephemeral cloudburst evaporates on supine
silhouettes of the gods. Pristine manna with a sigh ... midst hollow
utter, guides dulcet zephyrs to petrichor arousals.
Purged euphoric realm steep in its prismatic solitude
poise, waft chimerical imagery effervescent caprices,
volley afar ... harks labyrinths mellifluous murmur.
Vesper, yon the zenith of Terra, breathe his claim toward
the cosmos, granting resplendent panacea a vestured vault,
... occasions an epiphany as moonglade o'er a lake.
Sandstone erode into dust harks history's fade
Effected by events, weathered
Crept century torture administers eventual taint
Withered time drives incessant
Battered slate roof removed promotes damage
Cold rain and blazing sun hurt
Cyprus seeds challenge infertile dust, establish
Passage through gathered dirt
Co dependent pieces redefine a weary structure
Fed full on counterpart stength
Capability maps character, freshened functions
Exchange worshipped sentiment
Protected rod trunk tree intersects better entity
Deep dug roots, a chasm shielding
Tumult inevitably threatens to reinstate tentative
Pledge prevails, reliance appealing
Dedicated to tasks, support and every day bolster
Ruin renewed by flaura's courage
Offers availed are automated, mutual responders
Hold each firm in order to flourish
23rd November
Beyond a blue veil
Harks my immortal being
Song of the caged bird
When sending a copy of mail
To another, you really can’t fail
If you CC the name
Of the person you aim
To receive it; attempts will prevail.
Unless, though, your age is like mine,
CC might be tough to define
For it harks to a time
Carbon paper was prime
If to copies your work did incline.
So when CC or BCC’s pressed
And your duplicates sent by request
Take a moment to think
How this long ago link
To the typewriter has been addressed.
**Syllable counter checked, 5-7-5, 5-7-5, 5-7-5, 5-7-5, 5-7-5, 5-7-5
A brevity trails
of life's bounty, engaging
the elements nigh,
be they neath, be they
sides, be they all around, starts
of a summer June
saffron breaths of warmth,
ochered until the leaves fall,
recalls September's
colorful hints tinged
orangey hues soften cools
an autumn breeze cease
harks December snows,
delight sprinkles of white dust
bouts colored lights,
until March begins
a greener spring, another
year starts a new trail.
Every year seems to bring more sorrow to my heart,
And everytime i try a fresh start
But it just leads me back in a place thats evermore dark
That is why I know hide and protect it
Right behind a giant and strudy Rock
And in it lies a sword,
Like excalibur my spirit it becomes,
Tearing away my assailants
Before they have a chance to seek and strike
The song that wreathes from my sword
Keeps me warm while my soul within it waits and harks
As for my Rock...
My God..
The blue rosewhos heart is always torn apart,
and resowed
I know because i felt it also
Like father like son
Until the end of the road..
Or at least another loop hole
the lightness of stones
is a time for poetry...
shhh harks in the soup
do give me goose bumps...
comforting lover...she's boss...
won't be home...christmas
...just feeling divine
for my dearest beloved...
oh she's mad...she's boss...
prong and short of it...
afternoon at the circus...
twenty cents?...thank you
Staying in a neighborhood
Where locals live and shop
Gives a taste of life beyond
Where all the tourist buses stop.
Discovering a small cafe
And breakfasting outside
Opens up a little window
To a place where folks reside.
Of course, the highlights beckon -
The museums and the parks,
The monuments and buildings
From which history still harks.
But there's something very special
When you start and end each day,
On your travels, like a native,
In an unassuming way.
Remiss I’d be to disavow my love for you
Opportune moments these days arise in short supply
Magical meanderings seem only to dissipate
Amorous adieus most nights all we seem to muster
Nightfall harks to all then beckons lovers to their nest
Thunderstruck we hesitate in dubitable awe
Immortalized remembrances to which we dare cling
Circumnavigating our delicate famished hearts
AP: 3rd place 2025
Submittted on February 14, 2018 for contest ROMANTIC-ACROSTIC sponsored by JOHN HAMILTON - RANKED 1ST
RECIPE: "Poulet Roti" French Style - Le Chant Royal (Instalment 4)
(Note: Rhyme scheme of “Le Chant Royal” where capital “E“stands for refrain, thus – Stanza: ababccddedE, Envoi: ddedE)
STANZA III
The idea's to pluck the chicken naked dead
But to keep it alive so long as there's fun
Stick pins and needles all the time on its head
So that when the COQ crows you know the bird's done
Was Marquis de Sade Torquemada's agent
The Socialist Mayor now out on tangent
Wishing spindle glass tower turns ivory
To keep him in power sans democracy
Get henchmen to preach comeuppance damnation
Tighten screws on chicken spit sans clemency
Now that lame bird can't fly away sans nation
ENVOI
Vain Socialist pique harks back to idiocy
Lax morals sport with intellect's papacy
Skinned and spiked chicken calls for condemnation
Do Napoléons fear Waterloo or Holy See
Now that lame bird can't fly away sans nation
(c) T. Wignesan - Paris, 2017
Ebony and ivory, noted for sound,
Digital playback, sleight of hand.
Songsters echo, vibrant pound,
Upright, organ, cottage, grand.
Strings attached, taut with suspense,
The Master Key hammers home
Letters of note; chords of tense,
Past and present; timed metronome.
Naturally played with flat and sharp
Sweeping the board. Ayre of nonchalance.
Orchestral manoeuvres performed with harp
Brass and wind; counter balance.
Peddled depression, ayer lingers on
Distant wave; caressed...pianissimo.
Emotive conductor, under the baton
Chorused voice harks, keyed to the piano.
There is a lark who is born to live in the meadow,
perched far above the smooth mountain stones.
She will rise from fields of the cloverleaf cradles,
with a foxglove petal, riding her wings.
A feather she's worn, will flutter on down,
to welcome us here, and to tickle our nose.
With a moment to cling, it is soft as a dream;
then it lifts into streams, of the sweet morning breeze.
She must sing from the heart, to awaken the dawn.
Her valor will linger, in the late morning sun.
Her tempo, announces a thaw in the spring,
Bringing a promise, of flowers and green.
Her voice has a cadence, a solo, ascending,
that comes with an encore, tremolos impending,
so fragile, it harks as a piccolo, playing.
She circles at dawn, to wake you and cheer you.
But at sundown, she croons, a soprano to soothe you.
She's a lark from a meadow, that mellows the heart
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