Long Carats Poems
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Aspirations are a self revealing Impress,
peeping in gem facet placeholder-
of ruby glimpses
of
Fairy tale covers,
covertly-airbrushed by the atmosphere,
over genuine zirconium expectations.
In inner light magistrate cache cow-
in the crystal stereo
of the now and here,
flashes impetus clear like a streaker revealing
to illustrate, the daring, self inspiration of its baud rate
of liberation-ad-here.
Geniing the busy body of it's own needful premise
of seedful impetuous implication, promised on premises.
A banner at happy hour suggesting intoxicating ingestion.
Drunk with in-advertising
getting premonition of-promotion, imbibing
the "jasmine in your mind."
Relation-ships moon causes the roiling sea
to gem carats of her sparkling sirens.
Alluring rocks to dash you to pieces
in drawn compliance..
Unsown light can give you the creatures of her disease,
calling bluff to serve her touring manifestations.
With marked cards to lay down in flush that had lay dormant but surfaced up from the sleeve
and from the seep of pasts saved ante ups.
They are a whiskey shot at a saloon.
Liquid courage that causes you to bark at the moon.
Tide a naked ride tied to the back of a train,
of bad ideas, after tion, ction and igeon
blows your cover, like sudden electrical storm
over the rainbow over landover and hot air,-
balloons like a mushroom
clouded idead ideal that transports you into the stratosphere of her thundering strutopeels.
Her bubble puts you in her hair brained funny papers, periodically.
To keep you sober, from occupying
a van down by the river. (Which sounds good to me) incidentally, but that's neither here nor there,
immaterial, witness,
these thought bubbles-seductively
siring, serial 'vamped vapor round firing
like a ghost mistress who puts you in a stupor
on the grounds of desiring, her consecrated things.
You say you want to marry me,
But how on earth could that be,
You say that I’m the one for you,
Know naught about you, have no clue,
You say we’ll travel far and wide,
With you forever by my side,
You want to take me to the moon,
You promise me that will be soon,
I wonder how you’ll do all this
How about you first give me a kiss,
And explain this complicated story
With dinner and a glass of wine dear Rory!
Of course I will says this eccentric man,
Give me a chance to speak, I am your fan,
Let’s go and book our worldwide trip,
Then go to dinner, and with a sip
Or two or three of the best French wine,
Fly way up high on my private plane, as we dine,
And furthermore, have a surprise for you,
In fact not only one, but I have two,
Kneels on one knee and offers me a ring,
A bright diamond at least 3 carats, bling,
I was floating, wondered did it show, in a daze,
This whole day was just a blur a, haze.
The 2nd, - tickets not to the moon, but Mars,
Refused this gift, preferred planet earth and cars,
And still the kiss had not yet come,
Felt bewildered, wanted to phone my mum!
Hey wonder boy Rory, how about that kiss,
Oh wow, loved that, imagine if I did that miss!
I have loved you Amy, for such a long time,
My father likes you also, we watched you climb
The corporate ladder, with those great pins
Because of these, forgiven any previous sins,
I liked your ways, your speech at any forum,
The way you managed meetings with decorum,
I even pulled out your file from H/R,
See you speak French, Spanish, heritage USSR!
I am the Chairman’s son,
I’m maybe somewhat of a brat, but love you a ton,
And the only thing I ask of you,
Is to stand by my side, and be my wife,
And make me happy, for all of my remaining life!
How can a girl refuse such an awesome request?
I married Rory, he’s a gem, my case I do now rest!
(Spoken)
I was shopping for a new gun just the other day
When, out of the blue it hit me what was right there on display
For under a pane of glass, there were hundreds of broken dreams
And that's made me think:
What's the story..... of a pawn shop ring
Music intro...
Half off hopes
Discounted dreams
Is what, the sign should read
But instead, it said half off
All our rings
Underneath a pane of glass
Broken love for trade with cash
And that's the story of a pawn shop ring
They're selling carats for pennies
On the dollar
If you see one you like
Feel free to make an offer
Each one's been certified
By a love turned cold as ice
And that's the story of a pawn shop ring
I'm guessing they've all been washed....
In teardrops
And a few were even given...
A fling
We're not here to discuss
If they're bad luck
Yeah that's the story of a pawn shop ring
I'm guessing more than most...
Hold unmade memories
And a few, never even, saw the day
A month and a halfs wage
For each dream there on display
And that's the story, of a pawn shop ring
(Spoken)
You know I left there that day feeling a little down
With no gun in my hand, I lifted my head feeling real proud
Just realizing that my woman still cares for me
Through all he hell I've put her through
Knowing we still have many dreams to come our way
But I still wondered
How many tried to propose
To only hear the word no
That's the story of a pawn shop ring
For in a glass case
Sits loves final resting place
And that's the story of a pawn shop ring
While a sovereign prince
I visited a sovereign state
Whose name shall remain
For the time being a secret
I hoped to find a sovereign cure
For a malady that had afflicted
My paramount sovereign ruler
And hampered his dutiful reign
Need I remind you that I, myself,
Was a royal blooded offspring
Of a sovereign lord? Or that I
Was on a royal mission abroad?
Nonetheless, and that notwithstanding
I traveled abroad on this secret mission
To find this most rare sovereign remedy
Of an even rarer sovereign contempt
The doctor (or to be frank witchdoctor)
Whose sovereign virtue was sovereignty
Had been accorded a rare sovereign right
To explore these rare sovereign remedies
His sovereign- whom he called president-
Was not as preeminent as my sovereign
As you will in due course come to learn
He was of a much lesser breed, I guess
But his people- also of a lesser breed,
Had given him what he called a mandate
Not sovereign power like my monarch
But he was very proud of that mandate
If he had been a Czar, or Emperor or King
I might have reciprocated with a noble bow,
But that is reserved for an indisputable chief
Or heads of powers like the United States
This one had the supreme remedy that I needed
That my sovereign had ordered me to procure
So I bowed quickly, a shorter version, anyway
And then rose again to my full padded height
Upon which I was handed several magic portions
Several thousand carats of gold, diamond, rubies
Several thousand acres of land for my experiments
And several virgins to cure my sovereign’s ailments!
At last weave bin released from winter's frigid jaws!
Spring has sidled upon us as delicately as if on kittens' pause!
April hath drenched hour land with life-sustainin' showers,
Two ade inn springin' fourth Mae's myriad of pretty flowers.
Thee robins have returned two serenade me at brake of dawn.
Mournin' due glistens like diamonds on my emerald lawn.
Those pesky dandy-lions ad sparkle with there yellow hew,
Butt, eye'll soon rid my yard of them sew yule never gnu they grew!
Glorious son-flowers salute Sol each mourn as if too say howdy-do!
Flowers nodded too there nay-boors urged by casual winds that blue.
Dainty mournin' glories grace thee path-weigh awl along my fence;
Too-lips, peetoonias end lielacks dispense there vary pleasin' cents.
Guardeners till thee soil two plant unions, carats end pertaters,
End other veggies includin', let-us, beans end beef-stake termaters.
Pleasin' aromas of broilin' stakes waft about from nay-boor's bar-bee-cues.
Folks gether on friends' front porches two sip tee end schmooze.
Birds flit about buildin' nests four there gnu-bournes inn my apple trees;
Ravishin' butterflys sample thee nectar of blooms, a-waftin' on the breeze.
Spring! A time for gnu life, knew beginnin's that doth us awl enthral!
Spring! Thee most delightful season of the year, the most joyful of awl!
Her 5 carats have quit shining
And that big house so inviting
Don't mean a thing
It's built on broken promises
And rests in, a field of broken dreams
She looks to find the answers
And she's waited, so very patiently
But he failed to get the message
Bout what mattered most
She's big on the little things
She big on the little things
Like the morning roll over I love you
They've gone by the wayside
Much like, the spark when it was new
She don't need a fancy car
Her broken heart, feels worn out and used
She thinks about a man that she knows
Just waiting there to prove
Some men fail to see a problem
Even though, it stares them in the eyes
With the risk of losing, comes the worst part
They fail to even try
There ain't no cards, there ain't no flowers
It wilts more with each hour
Along with her every hope and dream
Time just proves what she's always knew
She's big on the little things
Shes big on the little things
Like the morning roll over I love you
They've gone by the wayside
Much like, the spark when it was new
She don't need a fancy car
Her broken heart, feels worn out and used
She thinks about a man that she knows
Who's just waiting there to prove
Maybe someday
She'll find a man that knows his queen
Is big on the little things
Superhero strobe lighthouse helm hexagonal
Sixty degree angle glass captain bridge
Watchtower for Diminutive Town message
Warns cliff climbers must heed heirachy rule
Soaring steel pylon pinnacle, men microscopic
Sextant lassos moon coins for seafarers
Capsized as whitecaps vomit precarious
Admiral amends an untoward son with his wallet
Navigator Nerida gazes star bright broadwater
Nile writhing serpent steps calm Cleopatra
Societal riser sanitises sympathy's reaction
To hard-knock have-nots, tutorials taught her
Ignore poor crippled car sleepers in their midst
Image is nine tenths of destiny, maintain it
Dim raised to dazzling, finger emblazoned
Bestows dirtily earned glory on emaciated wrist
Beacon lights monarch morrow, slim limbs svelte
Jokers precluded erect huts on soft sand
Jewels crest strawberry sun-light garland
Dangle gold carats in cards her chronicle dealt
Third of November
Superb Vista
If clocks ran backwards and time did chime
The hours and the minutes of your life and mine
Would tomorrow be written by the poets and the bards
And the cruellest of sorrows in the deck of life's cards
When salvation is sought at the end of a bottle
Should we drive there directly, open road and full throttle
How I'd love to bestow all the beauty life holds
For each suffering soul, put an end to life's woes
A hitchhikers fate may be yours to command
Are the cards they've been dealt in the palm of your hand
If the tale of each fate's in the past that we've penned
Are we destined to travel the wrong road again
Should we crawl on our knees, bow down when He calls
Should we cower at heel in Elysians Halls
Is faith but a chore under tightening reins
Is religion the cure or the cause of our pains
If peace has a place in rhe hearts of all men
Could hatred be quelled at the stroke of a pen
Lay claim ro your lives in rhe Game of all thrones
Carats cut like a knife the most precious of stones
If tomorrow's been written in the annals of time
To what lies the purpose of your life or mine
Do we stand tall and proud like our fathers before
Or sink like a stone to be lost evermore
Peter loved his wife Carmen Lúcia
Their love 's color was tranquil fuchsia
Their love took shape in Mogok
In depth of the Mother rock
Big red ruby-poem of Gaia
HISTORY
The Smithsonian's National Museum of Natural History in Washington, D.C. has received one of the world's largest and finest ruby gemstones. The 23.1 carats (4.62 g) Burmese ruby, set in a platinum ring with diamonds, was donated by businessman and philanthropist Peter Buck in memory of his late wife Carmen Lúcia. This gemstone displays a richly saturated red color combined with an exceptional transparency. The finely proportioned cut provides vivid red reflections. The stone was mined from the Mogok region of Burma (now Myanmar) in the 1930s.
Precious Stones and Gems - Poetry Contest
Sponsor:Anthony Slausen
Poet: Rajat Kanti Chakrabarty
Form: Limerick
Theme: Love, Ruby, Precious stone
Haute Prejudice.
Wrapped around manicured fingers,
Carats and ounces.
Flung over muscled shoulders,
Pin-stripes and silk.
Shoveled down open mouths,
Caviar and oysters.
Reeking from each pore,
Prejudice and hate.
The reeking odour is alive.
It is carried by the forlorn breeze,
Wafting through mansions and jacuzzis.
The reeking odour of the whispered epithet,
Lingers on as the perfume fades away.
I try to hide.
In dusty corners and trashy alleyways.
I try to escape the noxious smell,
As I flee into a crawl.
Yet the pervasive smell of hate in the air,
Swirls and invades and mutates and propagates.
The bile rises,
Nauseated,
Sick with mock pity,
For those fighting over the scraps,
In our gleaming city.
'freeloaders' and 'bums',
White, brown, black, pink, yellow,
And those battered into shades of black and blue.
Will it ever end?
Perhaps never.
Not until I realize,
That 'they' are me,
And that I am you.
Form: