The spirit world went into spasm,
emitting as it did, a new phantasm,
which pitifully cried and moaned
as a haunting voice intoned,
"I wish that I was protoplasm".
Why was it that the heavenly host
wouldn't give him what he wanted most?
Why did they leave him, oh so sad?
He was such a pleasant lad -
Casper the Friendly Ghost.
Why did Casper do what he did
when he was just a kid?
Kite flying was not his ball of wax,
so he played on the railroad tracks,
which his mom would not forbid.
His mother said, "Go soak your head",
but he played on the tracks instead,
and so, it was all his fault.
His mother took it with a grain of salt,
and now poor Casper's dead.
So, if you see that nice guy, now deceased,
floating from the west or east,
he's travelled many a mile.
So, return his gentle smile.
Don't shrink in fear, just when he needs it least.
possibilities
implied
intrigue
reasoned
&
intoned
the
bizarre
unfinished
undefined
throughout
motion halts
possibilities
of
closure
..remain
Back around Time's corner, no comfort
To concede looking in
On which buoyed plane, laughed up and down is
Past a street's re-mounting.
Nothing there but provokes of a more
Absurdness in a sigh
In what, weary intoned, out-whimpers all
On graveyard winds that die!
Yester-place shimmers. Only what gives
Its gold's foil-light suggests
To the Earth proper have not plunged these
Thunder-moods; lightning-zests.
Overhead in silence
something caught my eye
a bird of prey hung still-life
in a blood-red sky
I was drawn by the tolling
of an ancient bell
dark-robed figures chanting
was it heaven was it hell
I reached out at shadows
on a deserted street
an icy wind blew lonely
feathers at my feet
I thought I saw the knife blade
the room echoed with the screams
I lay there in a cold sweat
was it real or only dreams
as the ground moved
and the scene shifted
the crowd hushed
when the curtain lifted
to reveal the view
as the door moaned
from deep down in the crypt
a low voice intoned
'Step inside our fright scare
we've been waiting here for you
welcome to your nightmare
where all your fears come true'
“Death can never separate us. Each time you feel a gentle breeze, It's my hand caressing your face.” By Mary Lucas
The first bell intoned its dreary dirge.
The feel of emptiness spread all around.
I was not afraid. I felt tall and steady.
Night began to obscure the light of day.
I began my lonely trek around the desolate place.
I met no one nor did I want to. I repeat.
I was not afraid. Some candles were still lit
All around the paths. Not that I had any difficulty
To find my way. I had walked that path too, often.
Suddenly all around a wild wind whispered all around.
Still, I was more concerned about names and ages.
How many die young! I feel tears brimming in my eyes.
Yet no tears fell. The light dimmed casting long shadows.
A lone raven cawed, a warming call. I did not care.
The dirge bell rang again, a mandate and a warning,
I pressed on, undaunted but free.
I entered the mausoleum as was my habit,
Lay myself down in my comfy coffin and slept.
Placed 1
“Ashes to ashes, dust to dust”,
The minister intoned, dismissing us.
Embraced and patted, pitying looks from all.
Letting go of my rose, the last to fall.
Thorns pricked my finger, a drop of blood dripped down…
… in the hole where mother's body is buried in the ground.
The grown ups seem to know exactly what to do.
But I feel so lost, so lost without you.
I escape all the mourners by sneaking out the back.
I climb the hill beyond my house, a well known track.
Sitting on the stump that lends the best view,
I heard a rustling in the bush, and caught my first glimpse of you!
Tattered ears and dirty fur, but glorious and lush it must be…
…Once you've been given care, and had a few meals maybe.
You were unafraid, though i think you'd been given reason
to be leery of people, but instead you squeeze in...
...beside my sitting stump, tail wagging and tongue hanging wet.
You seemed to know I was sad and you came to me to pet.
I obliged, and found my arms thrown round your neck so tight!
I cried into your smelly coat, and felt you cared, that maybe
everything would be alright.
In the crepuscular halcyon sunset, bells tolled urging
the desultory audience to attend the sermon of the new pastor.
Despite their cynical sentiments, they dared not absent themselves.
The look of visceral satisfaction on the pastor’s face
was unmistakable. Outside light became penumbra,
Still, men and women trudged towards the chapel
as the dirge-like bells faded into silence. His audience was silent too.
He spoke in a sonorous voice, in an opulent resonant poetic vein,
an exuberant style which was to be his familiar characteristic:
Unbridled jealousy is a sin, he intoned, so speak no evil, my friends.
The interpretation of the listeners is FICTION. Still the advice is correct.
Music
when explained
the notes retract
Visceral
ideation
falling flat
Resonance
systemic
joy intoned
Romancing
the silence
— calling you home
(Dreamsleep: September, 2024)
The old mother-in-law was sent away,
To an old age home without delay.
The daughter-in-law, with silent defiance,
Pushed back without uttering a grievance.
The husband, in his quest to tame,
A heart thorned with pain and blame,
Tried and failed, defeated at last,
By the weight of the past.
To shatter the deceit and face fate's cruel plan,
He turned to his sister, trusting her hand.
With strategy in mind, and revolt in his heart,
He fought back, unwilling to be torn apart.
Her face, once flushed with fiery red,
Softened into a lotus bloom instead.
In her youth, she refused to let them suffer alone,
"We’ll care for them ourselves," she firmly intoned.
The father-in-law and brother-in-law stood in place,
At the crossroads, with a smile on each face.
Justice was born that day, they thought,
And in their laughter, solace they sought.
The existential bird in the supreme sky
flies abandoned with the rhythm of swan song.
The tapestry of time wraps with eternity hue
the innate immortality essence,
etched for the uniqueness of being.
The winsome whisper of the extant wind
rustles the lively lotus petals of perpetuity.
In solemn space of sanguine solitude of mind
deranged clamor subsides
in the eroded silent sanctum of entity.
Beneath the worn out layers of individuality,
thousand suns shine perennially in blissful bay.
In the seraphic sky of divine perception,
ageless consciousness dances
with the rays of nirvana.
I am then the immutable hymn of sanctified soul,
echoing through the melodic strata of consciousness.
The devout mantra intoned in the temple of heart,
resonates with the symphony
of the sacred spirit indomitable.
I am the essence of connected oneness,
transcend the self-seeking perimeter of identity.
The cosmic creator of resounding silence of eternity
makes my awakened soul proclaim the divine decree,
I am His absolute definition.
In the live network of intricate unassailable design,
layer on layer, the latticed mind is stratified,
the spiritual strata of the innate awareness align,
unique sagacious patterns of perception are unified.
Many existential attributes of sole distinction gain
access to the sanctum of the secret psychic recess,
transcend undefined the fading limits of joy and pain,
as fluid sense merge with the sea of absolute consciousness.
In my journey within as an introspective explorer,
I discern the enlightened soul in the sanctuary of bliss,
suffusing me with the supreme essence of divinity,
I get liberated from the dungeon of the corporeal abyss.
I am then the immutable hymn of the sanctified soul,
echoing through the melodic strata of consciousness.
The devout mantra intoned in the temple of the heart,
resonates with the symphony of the sacred spirit.
I am the shared essence of the connected oneness,
transcending the self-seeking perimeter of individuality.
The cosmic creator of the resounding silence of eternity
makes my awakened soul proclaim the divine decree I am He.
Real poets don’t make lasting friends
they shun fraternity
Their truth like gritty sandpaper
abrasive when intoned
The reader may be gratified
with what the words uncover
More likely though the pain involved
— will cut them to the bone
(Dreamsleep: February, 2024)
THE HERE AND NOW
Just go find the key to the present
And the future becomes unlocked
For some, it is just the distant past
As if who they were then, will last
Seen all doors and never knocked
Nostalgia makes it all so pleasant
Dwelling back there in one’s youth
Better days, at least as one recalls
Stay back there in your memories
Ignore those who now are enemies
But the prospect of the future palls
As now one is so long in the tooth
Who said, Age shall not weary them
I hear that intoned more and more
Funerals don’t really say goodbye
I’ll be looking down from the sky
Seeing confusion always as before
None there to ever wear a diadem
In the crepuscular soothing sunset, bells tolled urging
The aimless audience to attend the sermon of the new pastor.
Despite their cynical sentiments, they dared not absent themselves.
The look of habitual satisfaction on the pastor’s face
was unmistakable. Outside light became penumbra,
Still, men and women trudged towards the chapel,
as the dirge-like bells faded into silence. His audience was silent too.
He spoke in a sonorous voice, in an opulent resonant poetic vein
an exuberant style which was to be his familiar characteristic:
Unbridled jealousy is a sin, he intoned, so speak no evil, my friends.
Keeper of the Flame
Flame born in Genesis’ labors
Springs from the eternal parent’s word,
Image of the ever present truth,
Soars above impotent earth
Lost in the swirling numb abyss
Fragile fire kindled by a vision’s flint
Bright vow intoned grows a fiery flower
Set upon a high rising hill in trust
Until the Keeper, born from dust,
Stands watch
Raptured sentinel face set against
Howling hurricanes,
That rise like screaming phantoms,
And the siroccos plan to shatter fire
Into embers with its jagged breath;
Cloaked by the chrysalis protection
The Keeper thwarts designs
To kidnap from the mountain fortress
Celestial inspiration’s blaze of grace -
And the wild Kerry dances intent to steal
Then slay bright fire
In the foul air of wicked conflagration -
With shields forged in eternity’s tinder grace,
Keeper, Guardian,
Fends off fiends of stalking chants;
A smokeless incense of inspiration rises
Forever young
A blessing kindled for the Keeper’s heart
Ambassador anointed - guardian of the eternal flame.
3-24-22
Contest: This or That
Title chosen Keeper of the Flame
Sponsor: Edward Ibeh
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.