Imagists Poems | Examples

Artificial Accolades

I listen to the waves sighing,
like words seized from the weary,
an island that trembles
to the tune of every tide forged
with artificial aquamarines,
like accolades articulated
with aesthetic lies, 
misleading the mindless,
ridiculing the rhythm,
as if we are all blindfolded ~ 
bleeding ballads of the broken,
borrowed from buried poets,
still breathing amidst their demise…

But if only they knew:
imageless imitation never
impressed the Imagists,
the ones who care
not for rhyme’s retardation ~ 
that sounds like absolute absurdity.

So tonight, as I write
with granite and garnet,
I long for perfumed light
to school the manipulated rules, 
claiming to know it all,
sitting in their emptiness,
unaware of neither
        what’s right nor wrong.

I am the unblemished;
I breathe not illusions
embalmed with poison.
I am original ~ 
a word that no longer is present
in the dictionary of the deceitful…