As warmth of evening hangs near,
wrapped in skyscape ' s cashmere
It bathes the woods, the frontier
with hints of godliness dear…
Winged robins from boughs I hear
chanting litanies that steer
Moonbeams of hush to appear
like glazed flame of hope, revere
That my relentless doubt severe
washes a cold, helpless tear;
Abating shadowed night’s fear
snuggling breaths ...with heaven's cheer.
What answer to this restlessness
That wallows deep inside my breast
Not found within in the oceans sigh
Upon the shoulder of the shore nearby
Nor in the leaves to their trees goodbyes
As they set sail for autumn skies
Nor in the ripples upon the lake
Whose echoing ever fails to make
A wonting Heart to faithless shutter
The litanies of dreaming's mutter
Nor in this prison of the mind
Whose dusty walls stare back in kind
They echo back our longing cries
This is where aspirations die
The chains without no stronger than
The chains that bind us from within
Perhaps beyond the horizon lies
The answers to these longing cries
Which set our feet upon the trails
For answers to our hearts travails
With rhythms of liquid litanies, the sea offers up her amazing peace, overflowing with music that pursues in a voice so very tender and overwhelming – almost a prayer of sweetest faith ~ by poet
In the turquoise waters, impressions glow
Glistening like tears who reflect the quiet flow
Of a hesitant prayer, fading sunrise praise
Mellow as the gentle air, waters who amaze
In the turquoise waters, still as the song
Blessings, away with each shadow who doesn’t belong
Mending the heart music’s soft tone
Pouring over the waves, spirits who groan
In the turquoise waters, silent tears fall
Love so sacred, richest joy of them all
Soothing the dark with the surf’s surge
Whispering its sweetness in a wave’s urge
In the turquoise waters, swells of sweet grace
Breaking over the sands in a lovely embrace
Risking dreams once were meant for me
Reducing them to mere sprays from the sea
From this Atlantic, comes a sight that’s such relief
Opposing night, leaving out grief
Oh, the joy of being comforted by the sea
That turquoise joy, so gentle and kind, such sweet glee…
A notebook is an object of art
Where the secret notes is hidden
Diaries is written, too personal
Journals is counting daily routine
Too special, full cover decors
After which is beautifully used
Hidden in secret place you only knew
When time of joy, inspire and sadness
This notebook reveal as litanies
Of emotions, fun and laughter release
And when all the life is truly dealt
This notebook becomes a memento of time
Once read again and again as part
Of biography and anecdotes of your life.
Work for your world,
But don't forget your afterlife,
No one knows today if we are together,
For tomorrow is not certain
Let's pray for every moment
After we're tired all day with our work
Life is not worth for keeping
Our life is a borrowed life
Someone above us is the rightful owner
When the time of accounting comes
We are free of giving our litanies
Not gnashing of teeth in the corner
But coming out the Great Court as victor.
Lives of saints had thrilled me, like suspense-filled stories,
Churches around, in litanies, sang their glories;
Isn't to be one of them I was called in birth?
How come, in life's course, crept in spiritual dearth...?
I chose the world - its marvelous modernity,
Its colors allured me, as though eternity;
What fool, if given palace, choose a hut instead?
Who would favour thorns in place of blossom bedspread...?
When did in me, who's born pure soul, ego enter?
When and why has it made me its business center?
Aren't home and kith specks of universality?
Shouldn't grace clothe all in garb of totality...?
Saints and sages fled far off fulfilling duties,
Within heart of beauties they found true booties;
Fullness in full flows from fullness of God's nature,
Feature of each creature is his rare signature...!
Like stream from mountains my humility should flow,
Virtues, like million diamonds in sunshine, glow;
I should govern my ego lest it governs me,
Like saints, in purity, infinite realms to see...!!!
02 November 2022
Melodrama Tears of Purple Passion
Tears of purple passion rend the cloak of my soul in a sob act as
Sobbing rain rips apart the sinuous threads of my blubbering broken heart
I beat my chest in abandoned weeping lamentation, crying out in vain.
Oh that the trampled, wailing, crying rose of love
Could gather together her sobbing scattered petals again -
Feel again her glow crushed by winter's maudlin weeping in heliotropic hues
Oh that distress teardrops shed here in sobbing souls of rending grief
On this windswept barren path would grow flowers in their footsteps
Weeping no more, crying for joy in their miraculous transformation.
Oh let Goblin slowly beat drums of broken sorrow in sobbing rising surges
Waterworks of downbeats in pulsing litanies of crying blackest blackness
Yet gather moaning cries as newborn jewels, treasure born of indigo Tears.
7-27-21
Sponsor: Jack Webster
Contest: The Goblins Jewel Box 1
"The summer night is still and sweet
With flowers on every tree
Peace comes to them on quiet feet"
Whose hearts, like sages, so free
Balsams just like purple-dark stars
Shining as though from the floor
Glowworm-bubbles as if from Mars
Knocking the night angels door
Mingled with the breeze so charming
Moody melancholic minds
Happiness-filled and hearts warming
Singing litanies of saints
Beggars, refugees, and dogs stray
Seem to sleep so peacefully
Somewhere in some land far away
Lullabies heard leisurely
01 June 2021
Choose Your Form 2 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Joseph May
*For rest see pt1*
Like how we teach the next generation how to treat women
And how we teach them how to act towards neighbours
Or if we dare to say to sons that others are not for raping
And people might have the right to their own bodies
But theres so much we still are not saying
So I believed in racism
But not in people being racist
And i knew of misogyny
But knew no womanhaters
I believed in their litanies
The gods of themselves they are making
Those incredulous men
Who think we are still for the taking
And i believed in mental health
But not without the stigma
I believed the words you say
Those bleeding scratches of nothing
I thought that the way
Was believing what they are saying
But I guess there is no denying
That people are bias and I am still people
Today I think that I am still growing
I am not where I was and not yet where I am going
In between in the now I live my life
I use silence as my tool
I use my words as knives
And today I believe that what we teach seem to matter
Trees grow from the roots on up
Houses lean on their foundation
Mountains fall withour their base
And now I see words and their intent are the true creation
In the sloping corners of humankind hangs the skeleton.
Ghosts are not hidden and flowers are exhausted,
Although some folds shelter beauty and
the old man can smile for some seconds
while he scratches the sky looking for
a ball that may glitter inside all.
The players cannot find the secret of the elegy,
While history dress only with one color
It is not the hour for a pilgrim. Many are left
On the side of the road with the lack of revelations.
One must remain faithful to litanies
To the holy reverence to the fatigue society.
Humans are around a corner
It does no matter if a barrel of tar is thrown in their full face.
Mouth and tongue pronounce the morning
Edition of obsessions, although the thickness of
the age and the readiness the long roll deeply sunk
no months to build effigies
I swear, I would die for you, but I have
no austerity for breath. I dream cities without clocks,
they hurt me, then I would add up stone by stone of kindness,
worry about questions, good questions,
and dream cities full of flavors and faces I can touch.
My apologies. It is late.Where there is a city
there is no city.
A face in a crowd grows numb on the subway
which hides evening’s woe, then closes a day,
mirroring grief across late Autumn’s sky
to wrestle with angst she cannot deny
like one thorn circling down from a fogged lair
while hours pound this final ache quite unfair.
Her dream turns bleak through uncertainty’s flow,
it knows not which compass of life to go…
frightened to death , brushing sleets of mad rain
when a long gone illness comes back again;
like time’s flick winging a dark raven’s plume
as sallow hands collect flowers abloom.
But oh this wish to live stirs ever on,
for when litanies of prayer are done
each whisper tumbles as moonbeams abide…
while nights claim her dream, “ fate is in your side.”
5/4/2016
Silent One’s Contest: Lyrics Cliché Image
Inspiration from the lyrics ‘ Mad World’
Cliché ,’ Frightened To Death’ … Image # 5
Let us take you up then
Where litanies of darkness mount the sun
Rest us on the magic night, bleakest evil oars
Arid pair of sleepy rebels float, limbs and root
Pretending what we are, reversed dreams of fields
Open as the window that is life, or so it seems
Hear the whish of mindful trees and zombie bark
Let us take you down, in dionysian diction
Where reality fluffs it’s cranberry tendrils
Where “real” is just a latin undulation of noise
LITANIES REHEARSING ADIEU
Soft
wheezes
from
crossbills
and mistrel
fusion
pluck
refrains
from May blooms,
train litanies
rehearsing
adieu
pause
unto
biting cold
out stretched
wings
to soar
high!
_______________________________________
ACTUAL FORM: Waltz Wave
1/2/1/2/3/2/1/2/3/4/3/2/1/2/3/2/1/2/1 syllables
***Sponsor Kim Merryman
Contest Name Shall We Waltz?
++Placed 5th++
O.E. GUillermo
10:22 pm, June 13, 2015
Three lovers: by Trinity Chasara 14/3/14
I followed two bliss-drunk lovers
Down a country path
Through flitting shadow
The great void of silence
Soothing sweet waves of moonlight
Just to be close to the warmth
That did freely flow gently
Over gentle lips and flaming touches
Munificent creatures in the best entwine of desire
‘My beautiful lover,’ I heard him say
With voice tainted with faux of charm
And the hues of love did spread on her cheeks
Like the beauteous designs of butterflies
That in memory’s cathedral yawned litanies
Sprawled over random hypnotic motions
I looked and looked and drank the sight
Two blossoms warbling flatteringly
Over a dreamy delight
But like birds they did see the stranger
And flew away in flutter
Down the clustered weeds
Of a surreptitious quest
STOP THE RAIN.
Fiends of forest to stop rain
Tall trees tenanted by spirits
Preparations in the make
For the day to close within
The dusk burdens of stake.
Mysteries of death and life
In useful annals of time
Pertinent flesh gets entangled
Within the motions of stars
For some mournful wrangles.
Phases of moon, changes of season
Visible seen in some celestial places
Emblemed provisions earmarked
For the litanies timed for future.
Set in motions the pungent season
Spring times & the hoary winter
In deeds wilting of frozen tongues
Intricated by markers of universe
Underwritten by wardens of verse.
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