Written in every vintage storybook,
fancy script says ‘Once upon a time..’
Reeled in with that iconic hook,
no wonder girls are set up at age five. ?
Faith fixes expectations like a crook,
the folklore of forever sets in.
Centuries immortalize the quest he took,
different words have a parallel rhyme.
A duo of mythos mirror each other’s look.
Physicists teach and talk
Physicians heal and walk
Physiologists exercise and specialize
Psychiatrists dramatize and immortalize
Psychologists observe and internalize
Therapists diagnose and mobilize
Radiologists scan and rock
Pharmacologists and Toxicologists mix and match drugs and block
Paleontologists, Neurologists, Meteorologists, Politicians, Philanthropists, Philatelists and the rest apply PHYSICS too... patch, flock and jock!
Upon a crag of thought he rests, a rugged form of silent power,
Engrossed in mental realms while silent moments softly creep,
With bronze-hued strength and shadowed brow, he marks the thoughtful hour,
Forgetting all the world around in contemplation deep,
The fertile mind creates, unleashing worlds within the inner eye,
No longer just a dreamer, but a creator bound to rise,
He dreams the future into shape beneath the heavy, watchful sky.
Michelangelo’s Adonis, for the whole world to immortalize.
I’ve heard the poet’s voice
Many years now
It speaks from distant lands
Beyond sun and cloud
It comes not by choice
But flows in through me
I am its voluntary vessel
In its overflowing sea
Sometimes it comes
As in a trance it seems
Other times I hear it
In my evening dreams
It fills my soul
With everlasting love
Embracing me
With strength from above
It has a visionary power in its throat
To speak of death decay or growth
Or enter into sorrow or into pain
Or sing with joy and cheer all the same
At times it sings with music divine
Of truthful worlds hidden and sublime
Its tone is clear
Emotions wise and dear
If ever you should hear it
Protect it from your doubt
And you will surely know
What the world is all about
Its power is everlasting
Like the world it’s speaking of
Nothing that it ever touches dies
It has the power to immortalize
Its source is truly a Holy Fount
A sacred spring indeed
A voice that may often save you
When your soul may be in need
In a rather egotistical
and pathetic attempt
to immortalize myself,
in something I lost,
everything.
And now that I’ve burned
all of my bridges and I’m drowning,
the only thing I have left
to do is work.
And it's not working.
And the only ones
praising my work
are little kids,
the same age I was
when I broke everything.
Lucky me.
I watch them do
the same foolish things,
reaching for pointless dreams,
immortalizing themselves
for no one and nothing.
What I wouldn’t do
to have something,
and what I wouldn’t give
for something
worth saying.
Empty words
look prettier
when they’re
written in blood.
And trust me,
it’s dripping
straight out of
my pen tip
and into my lungs.
I wish that
instead of pneumonia
I had amnesia.
Maybe then,
I could forget about
all of this.
My memory ascends to those bygone days,
When my stomach lay flat,
Afflicted by shabby pains,
Teetering on the brink of an ulcer.
Yet, since our serendipitous encounter,
A swift metamorphosis has graced my being,
Transforming my stomach in size and sensation.
The definitions of hunger, starvation, and peckishness,
Have faded into oblivion.
In their place, I have discovered,
The profound essence of true satisfaction.
Still,I, KAMERFthurred, find myself bereft of words,
To fully convey my gratitude.
One of my deepest wishes
Is to immortalize this poem as a living testament of thanks to you.
For any who read it,
May they understand, as you often shy away
From my expressions of gratitude.
'Twas midday in mid-Manhattan
I was with the lunch crowd
then a voice sounds like platinum
drove me to turn around
of course, the color of your threads
amongst the bland, spread out
poetry in motion were reds
well stitched, without a doubt
caught a glimpse amidst the passing
and lost you to a trance
searched high and low merely guessing
hoping for one more chance
you winked, the pleasure of your eyes
immortalize the trice
albeit I should plagiarize
poetic friends advice
on blank paper articulate
that very own image
transfer that which you emulate
for all eyes ... a blank page.
Solemn vows are like embroidered stars at night.
They tantalize like diamonds;
They shine forever and bright.
Soon enough, your name will be inked to my heart.
Every day I will immortalize you,
Just like how you made that bouquet of peach flowers.
Its scent will live in my mind.
From the start, I knew your love was as promising as your art.
Your portrait sketches are exalting,
Your digital artworks are alluring.
But what I love most is how you transpire them to us.
It becomes a masterpiece,
A relationship that will last ages after ages.
It will tell the future that we existed.
Then it will bring us to life
Be careful, respectful
with all words...
they can be just as vital to a poem --
don't let commentaries too far-a-field
roam --
stay focused, and on topic --
sometimes good to be myopic.
--------------------------------------
Take criticism with grace,
don't let praise put your head
in outer space --
besides entertaining,
thoughtful poetry can be a righteous
rod and staff...
but don't feel need to immortalize~
your every verbal-fart and literary-gaffe --
I'm not a perfect person
But people like to immortalize me
Thinking that my flaws are not common for some other people
So that the flaws I have are only for me to have
Yet, I'm proud that I'm unique in every way.
There's only one me in the multiverse.
I'm a drop of rain that can't be duplicated in another place and another time.
Your lifestyle is vibrant and restless
and from tiny towns to big cities
your search for human images
to paint very realistic faces!
And while you don't have the unique touch
of a Davinci or of a Caravaggio: you do excel,
many strangers from far places ring your bell:
they spend hours posing for a silver brooch!
Earning money is only for essentials,
no passion is more satisfying
to glance at your finished paintings
and wish they'd be talking!
Painter of realistic faces,
immortalize them with your magical brush!
Those men's stunning, hard bodies;
those woman's seductive, soft curves,
don't need any correction or a final touch:
your artistic talent amazes!
Your lifestyle is vibrant and restless
and from tiny towns to big cities:
your search for human images
to paint perfect, lifelike faces!
And while you don't have the unique touch
of a Davinci or of a Caravaggio: you do excel,
many strangers from far places ring your bell:
they spend hours posing for a silver brooch!
Earning money is only for essentials,
no passion is more satisfying
to glance at your finished paintings
and wish they'd be talking!
Painter of realistic faces,
immortalize them with your magical brush;
their perfect masculine and feminine images
don't need any correction or a final touch:
your artistic talent amazes!
Learning to write with those quills first
Then, in fountain pens, immersed
Ballpoints are the best; they advertise
Computer writings, now, immortalize
My quill in a nook stands as a humble servant.
My once-favourite pens remain with their nibs bent.
As a friend in one's poverty, forgotten when one grows rich
Has modernity made a void within artistry's niche?
"Beauty surrounds us, but usually we need to be walking in a garden to know it." Quote By Rumi
___________________________________________
Several tears, one after the other.
A sob wave pulls me forward in a gossamer haze.
unable to breathe—shivering with inure fear.
Why do feelings spiral out of grasp and ravel?
or worry keeps raging through my mind?
consider a world devoid of vestigial musings.
Complete silence; I am gasping for air.
wheezing, heart pounding, lungs screaming.
for breath, I cling desperately to the blankets.
My most arcane emotions flow unnoticed.
No lyrical ariose tunes to soothe my spirit.
in the lack of an auric metaphor
How would my day be lacking canorous poetry?
Clangor skin was covered in spiked tears.
Fingers rub my chimera, and eyes ensue.
Without poetry to calm, my anguish will burst
Without the cooling verses, I was crestfallen
Without a voice to express, how would I wish?
If artists believe that clay may depict furtive views,
Poets prefer paper and ink to immortalize their muse.
Now I nourish words,
or the words nourish me!
Trust me now it's groundless,
as in each other's vicinity, we feel glee.
And black nights pass by,
and we remain close but free;
not as caged in a jealous lover's company,
but soulful: that whatever we feel we set them free,
to be scribed into the paper
to immortalize each other's vicinity.
Sub Categories
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.