Imbues Poems | Examples

Angelic Sulphur

Angelic Sulphur



Angelic sulphur streaming downward on a glistening ray of light 



Essence of daybreak imbues a radiant effigy of hope 



Culmination of atmospheric shimmering and sky bound illuminations leave me in awe of such blue yonder



Firmaments of peace lay beneath the majesty of a fig tree 



And a brimming overwhelm captures my soul as the beauty borders on profound



My communion with the breaking sunlight has left me with a fervour 



For all the compliments that natural beauty simply cannot be found in mankind



Reluctantly my soul and I depart and head back toward the bleak cityscape



Thunderous clouds of polllution illustrate my growing unease



Another burden appears as the skyline quickens with buildings 



And the angelic memories from the morning light persist as if telling me there is a home beyond this man made abomination

Lightness Of Peace

Bright is the dew that embraces my earth
As seasons breathe with a lingering sigh; 
Oaks in teal ripple and glimmer in peace
With hymns of ' thank you' I can't defy.
 
In this free motion, tranquility abides
North winds drift along, gentle and refined
Encircling on the core of quietude;
That  hours glide perfectly, weaving a bind.
 
For gratitude becomes my life’s keeper 
Each passing turns into a rune, a fire;
Till lightness of ease imbues vibrant thoughts
Benevolent as sunrays that inspire.
 
Today leans again with a lustrous face
In calm persuasion, my heart and soul meet,
This wholeness bathing in its  grateful flow
When life resounds without any conceit.

Hanging Rock

There is something in us
that imbues landscapes
with substance or senses 
what is there hidden beneath
the camouflage of form.
It finds voice in myth 
and survives in the shadows
of the imagination, 
birthplace of our being.

It enters this world
through ancient fissures,
openings in the mind,
sacred places and in the crevices 
weathered in lava outcrops
spewed out of a volcano 
more than six million years ago
halfway between Melbourne
and Bendigo.

Hanging Rock rises up
out the plain like a cathedral
but houses no familiar god.
Here, something primal 
breathes out of the lava pores
and sleeps within.
In the mirror of our smug certainties,
it is never seen
but festers in a fear
that we may awaken it
from its ancient dream.





Note.
Hanging Rock features as the main backdrop
in Peter Weir's haunting film, 
‘Picnic At Hanging Rock’. Would suggest
a viewing of the trailer on YouTube to get
a sense of how this rather strange rock
formation sets off an interference pattern
on the imagination.

Time and Tide

The tang of salt imbues the mist –
a calling I cannot resist.
I walk along the rocky shore
held spellbound by the ocean’s roar.

As darkness falls, the fog rolls in
and, from the lighthouse, shapes begin
to stalk within the opaque veils
like illustrations of its tales.

The cloying haze seems to transcend
reality, here at land’s end.
I see the ghosts of tortured souls,
their names inscribed on filmy scrolls.

There stands a lover who lost hope,
there a traitor, wrapped in rope,
a lost ship’s crew, still foundering
and fighting off the storms of spring.

Above it all, the lighthouse stands
illuminating within bands
of light this silent history
of struggles with the mighty sea.

A small breeze starts, a whispering,
a dirge that only oceans sing,
and soon the air is once more clear,
though I can feel the ghosts still near.

I sit upon the rocks and stare
out to the sea and wonder where
the lost souls seen now reside.
They ebb and flow like time and tide.

Healing touch of cherished things

In quiet dim corners and drawers untouched,
Lie precious things, much cherished and clutched,
These cold inanimate things, just like a friend,
Can ease our troubles, and ill feelings amend.
Each memento and much used everyday things,
Are something special, for the comfort each treasure brings.
It's not just any old clock, that's revered, it's only that one.
With its unique tick and tock, and familiar dial, homespun.
That old worn chair there, bears your weary form,
And imbues the calm balm of a massage so warm,
That mug that holds your morning brew,
Warms hands and heart with a ritual true-blue,
It's the constancy and reliability that soothes the mood,
That quells the angst of toils and trouble on which you brood.
These inanimate things are like an old friend
They're always there, when you need a mend.
They're vital parts of your essential being's foundation,
That meld your soul, heart, and spirit's conflation.

Bitter Sweet Thoughts

Loneliness seeps within my inner soul
I ponder of today and yesterday 
Lost to the past my future ever-lasts
Alone, thinking I keep my thoughts at bay 
How long will I stay in my room and think?
And now thinking, think good thoughts not bad ones
Excessive thinking, brings me to the brink 
My thoughts gathering now dispersing; runs!
I look at the clouds gathering my thoughts
I flood my mind with sadness and regret
Tears rinse me as rain cleanses Earths’ disgrace 
I now sit waiting for the sun’s presence 
Warmth imbues me with the sound of pheasants

Cave Art

Where is the boundary
between spirit and stone,
that place where myth is born
and marries meaning
to the beauty and brutality 
of form. Is it only our imagining
that imbues things 
with the glow of transcendence,
anoints the ordinary 
to elevate atoms to the status
of the sublime;
is there only human art to warm
the cold of our lonely caves,
to redeem us from time.

A Romantic Fool

I caught a glimpse of her heart 
and a peek at her soul; 
igniting my desire.
Her beauty and charisma supply the kindle
that fuels passion's flame.
And an outpouring of emotion surges
from my heart;
splashing against my soul. 
A teardrop trickles down my cheek, 
and I feel sated by the experience;
filled with the vitality of youth
and the hopes of a romantic fool.
Her smile says everything;
evoking thoughts of love
at first glance.
She is an Angel,
whose presence imbues my heart
with an overwhelming feeling of love.
Finding the courage to speak;
I fumble for the words
as I stare at her in awe.
And yet, my feelings flow freely,
gently guiding her heart to mine.
And thus,
I'm able to convince her
I've found my Juliet;
and her, her Romeo.

Mid-October

Our Mid-October offers us a blended scene-

starting mild, then turning cool as crisp air imbues

trees with an orange glow as leaves lose their deep green.

But, as the final weeks enhance our Autumn views-

October bows to our November's bolder sheen.

Sunset

A
dying
scarlet sun,
bleeds upon pink
cotton candy clouds
clustering at Earth's edge,
as though tethered to the night.
Twilight starts unveiling the stars
now twinkling-like faceted diamonds
and moonbeams gild indigo waters gold.
Muting all but one lonely cricket's chirp,
silence imbues each shifting shadow
with a growing feeling of dread.
And a dark curtain descends
until silhouettes merge
and ebony starts
slowly filling
in every
single
gap.

Rose-Tinted Shrouds

Crimson leaves flutter with every brisk breeze,
sending cerise ripples through the treetops.
And as the Autumn winds tickle the trees,
sunburned farmers start harvesting their crops.

A scarlet sun bleeds onto carmine clouds,
inking colors that adhere to Night's brush.
And Dusk's magenta and rose-tinted shrouds
conceal Sol's death in a vermillion blush.

When Nature's pallet imbues Autumn’s art,
cinnabar collects on the forest trees.
And signaling Winter's about to start,
russet canopies shift tints in degrees.

Burgundy, fuchsia, and maroon leaves fall;
creating the masterpiece known as Fall.

Tonic

TONIC

Gin, with its memory of juniper
That imbues a certain sweet tang
But needs a slightly bitter contrast
To be well-rounded on the tongue
Relieved to deliver its full promise

Tonic water, innocently sparkling
Knowing its partnering role so well
Offering quinine as a prophylactic
Originally for Malaria in the Empire
A complement to balance the heat

Ice, as cubes dropped into the glass
Their mission, ever eagerly accepted
A cool aperitif then turned into cold
With just a thin twist of lemon or lime
That clink, somehow a reinforcement

Awe-Inspiring

Nature's an awe-inspiring sprite;
a muse, inherent from the start.
She imbues everything I write
with truths time reveals to my heart.
A vital link,
She stirs my ink.

When Nature smiles, my pen grows light:
and I write what is in my heart.
Fueling fledgling souls in flight;
Nature sponsors poetic art.
She need not talk:
and heeds no clock.

Whispering Heart's Desire

In the hush of night, my heart whispers to,
Its secrets unfold, in dreams it imbues.
Softly it speaks, with gentle refrain,
A melody of love, that knows no pain.

It yearns for solace, in tender embrace,
To dance with desire, in passion's embrace.
It sings of longing, in whispered verse,
Seeking connection, its eternal curse.

In quiet moments, my heart reveals,
The depths of emotions, it truly feels.
Through joys and sorrows, it remains true,
My heart whispers, and I listen, too.

Surrender

Love is a game that has no rules:
yet it's an all-or-nothing stakes.
And the odds do not favor fools;
who toy with my heart till it breaks.

When you smile, my heart skips a beat:
and my pulse swiftly starts to race.
For staying calm is no small feat:
seeing that smile light up your face.

Fate imbues love with wings of hope
to pursue a heart pure and true.
And trust severs my safety rope,
surrendering my heart to you.

But, in surrender, I found bliss;
as our two half-souls were made whole.
For when passion fuels each kiss;
love morphs into one heart and soul.

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