Long Chalices Poems
Long Chalices Poems. Below are the most popular long Chalices by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Chalices poems by poem length and keyword.
“since thoughts speak in past tenses,
drop mind, rely on senses,
embracing and releasing,
pain pangs and pleasure pleasing” ~ Unseeking Seeker
The sun
w a n e s into the saline swell,
and the ether
undresses corseted ruminations,
while heart follows formless flames
illuminated with flares of
frankincense forgiveness
as mind replays recurring regrets
like vinyls~
spinning forlorn runes
laced with fallacious fragments,
clouding the intricate cycle of lunar~
intuitions with illusive riddles,
drifting into the eventide of agony…
So I drink and I dine
from the hyacinth hands of
the golden chalices
brimming with turmeric tranquility,
listening ~ in sync ~
with the soul of sanguine stillness
ricocheting with rustling repose,
erasing cracked crevices
heavy with ache
from soft smears of monarch-bliss strokes,
spilling picturesque pigments of peace
from Mona Lisa musings
to veil visions of vanity,
to mask mirrors of melancholy,
to soften scarlet streaks of sorrow…
Tonight I close the portals
of perplexed perceptions,
unlocking the crown chakra
like forgotten forests
glowing with faith and fireflies,
allowing stars to glaze
my inner psyche
with dusts of glistening gratitude,
fine-tuning the symphony of Kundalini
to musical mists of mindfulness,
cloaked in
crystalline clovers of clarity~
like an awakened fairy
flipping leaves of lotus love,
pausing the pulse of pain
beneath an empyrean embellished
with spiritual elixirs,
detached from darkness,
clinging neither to
the seraphic scriptures
nor the egoistic galaxies,
sprinkling superficial sparkles
of material mantras.
As enlightened ink r e m a i n s
reliving ~ sewn into the
seams of sacredness
like endless rivers rippling with
opalescent quiescence…
O divine almighty,
I vow to sow herbs of harmony,
engrossed in the timeless phase
of rose-wine twilight~
untangling twisted tulips
intertwined with
weathered willows.
As I seek nothing but lucid light,
soaked in petrichor musings,
resting in zealous zenith,
for I am a rhymeless disciple
accepting the reality
that kissed the silk of silhouette
amidst rain and warmth~
the celestial peaks of change.
I taste flavors of kismet,
swallowing spices of lament,
comfortably composed
in the mystical essence
of soundless rhythm…
but to seize
the gold of
your
splintered sun,
must I
m o v e dreams
across
tables of trickery
placed with
forks of forgery
and chalices of deceit
c r a
d l
i n g
the
dust of life and
ticking truth
s l i
t h e r
i n g in silk
among writhing serpents
awaiting the
stroke of
midnight thorns?
and to confuse
my patience with
a pawn is a
miscalculated mistake
for I refuse to
be chained
in citrines~
engrossed in
cruelty
served in
sinister spoons;
threats from
an egomaniac
soaked in
m u
s k s
of dusk
so tonight,
I bid adieu
to
the
eccentric accent
of a ruthless strategist;
the end tastes
sweeter than
sips of silence~
your speech mocking
the stem
of an aching rose,
illustrating p e
t a
l s
glazed by the moon~
as maleficence
in the
narcissistic narratives
there is no
line of empathy
in my arcade of angst~
for the fallen star
armored with daggers
protecting the
cave
of chaos.
“Just because you are soft doesn't mean you are not a force. Honey and wildfire are both the colour gold.” ~Victoria Erickson
Tonight the moon sanctioned
her golden halo
to unfurl butterfly wings
rinsed with honey
and champagne ribbons,
as feathers of lunar crust rise,
to embellish the sky
with silver sequins,
drizzling second chances
upon fickle hearted dragonflies,
gifted as weapons of
deception to the sweltering breeze,
that wrapped my weakened knees.
I’ve always known trusting
is a losing game with no winners,
but why do I always feel
like an intruder sinking deep
into the depths of spiteful seas~
where planktons and stinging marine
nettles prick my untouched skin?
Yet I am still searching for
a singing star that wouldn’t
need written renderings of
how my black tinted glass
heart was left to drown.
Who would have thought,
there’d be more to the
onyx glittered
ripples that stream,
in teal blue waves?
If only they’d hear
every unspoken tale
of shipwrecked ruins
resting amongst graphite
motions of frozen intuitions,
forgotten through forsaken
lagoons amidst
fleeting monsoons,
left as memoirs along
soft coral mists swiftly
passing through patch
reefs in abandoned atolls.
So let me take my splintered
spheres to a realm of no return,
forgiving sinful anthems
that lured me to believe
that friends were more
than enemies in sweet disguise.
I am soft, not fragile,
neither am I a
shrunken blossom.
I am a tiger lily,
fragrant yet fierce,
ready to face whatever~
hypocritical fangs of fate
may serve in merlot wine chalices.
I've rented a room with a view
of a freshwater lake with a hue
Nature's deepest sparkling blue …
I've rented a room with a view
of a garden with every conceivable flower
whose scents grow more fragrant each hour
I've rented a room with a view
of stunning alabaster palaces
engraved with exquisite chalices
I've rented a room with a view
of a forest deep and enchanted
where gold and blue macaws are planted
In each room I've rented's a view
that elicits many an ah and an ooh
Yet I'd trade the whole lot of these views
~ for one more evening, my angel, with you
Dreamscape
Fright night echoes sounds clink tapped chalices,
Amidst caused bruised concoctions aplenty,
Dons alehouse barmaids geniality,
Fair distance yonder gates of said palaces.
Camaraderie placates fools, nightfalls,
Host chambered snores all else unpleasantries,
Wenches clear tables its swill and varies,
Whilst yon night watchman hollers hourly calls.
The stoic slept welcomes twilight approach,
Chasten slumberous surrenders dream world,
Muscled manliness stretches stints winnowed,
Mother swoon child tender desire encroach.
Abandon heads sheath will-o'-the-wisp state,
Goliath behemoths failure foiled wake,
Marooned upon drifts angels blissful break,
The golden book said, chapter, verse bears weight.
Widows paired widowers weep tears befalls,
E'er so oft descends expecting rose cheeks,
Point bold repeats shared long days spells short weeks,
Begs one's heart fair soft sweet exchange recalls.
Voiceless notes unfurl rare unwritten soul,
Strengthen brave quill effects sweet passages,
Pledge remembrance weigh all averages,
Stirs careful measure of aged well-sought goal.
Escapes upon winged flight anointed dove,
Glissades white cloud that welcomes warm dawning,
Expecting eyes embrace forth hours thawing,
Borne souls board morns star golden sleigh brought love.
2020 February 08
*Honorable Mention*
STRAND SELECT H,any form ,any theme
~~Brian Strand
When I was with my love
I did not fear the blows of fate,
nor the poison in time's chalices,
nor the heatwave,
nor the snowstorm,
neither the news of war's snake that bites,
when I was with my love.
I could reduce war to the sound of the drums,
be brave without any vice, and torture that
lies in the wait, like cat in the bag,
when I was with my love,
I was the daredevil who ran the show,
twisted hate to love in bloom, the devil
of misfortune and abuse into peace,
when I was with my love,
I stuck my head in beehives
and my hands in God's sleeves,
or in rabbit holes, admiring
those minions' accomplishment,
when I was with my love, clear-eyed
and glued to faith and optimism,
my eternal delight,
when I was with my love, I
laid siege to love's firewall,
questioned nothing, happy as a light footed rabbit
scanning the meadow, oh how I wish I was still
with my lover.
Aren't we all sinners in the eyes of the world
And aren't we all lost in this very world
For we always seeking approval from each other
From people who most times don't understand at all
For we all have cups over flowing
Some cups pouring out pure pain
Cause their cups were chalices of poison
Hate is all they've known in this life
Some have cups over flowing like rain
That when it pours from their cups
It drops in ours watering our wells
With hope to always keep going
Aren't we all sinners in the eyes of the world
Then why the attitude & constant righteousness
The sheer pettiness and imminent divide
Between ourselves when we out there in the world
Aren't we all sinners in the eyes of the world
And haven't you all had enough of it
Enough of the constant comparison,
and unnecessary pressure to perform
For we were all made different
Drinking from different cups of life
While some got empty cups that they sort to beg
Others got cups that fill whole grain sacks
The PO£T
In halls of time threaded upon the spindle of lingering thought,
Youth sheds at dawn like dew entwined on strawberries,
Weaving a veil of dreams and hopes, the storm is but a hushed song,
The greatest gift—a mystery shared on pages of life yet untrodden.
It is the whisper of the wind among ancient walnut trees, racing,
Word before the word, a promise made before being spoken,
A promise of time, preserved in a heavenly amphora,
A priceless present dissolving in hands, a crystal of counted fate.
Youth, a butterfly's flight in its first flutter,
Wings of light borrowed from the kiss of morning sun,
Treads yet shyly on untrodden paths,
With the unknown throbbing within, its sweet facade of the absolute.
A candle between two worlds, dusk and dawn in a single being,
The young heart sails through the veils of reality, a rope of scorching sand,
Life borrowed in rainbow chalices, sipping on the fly,
Each moment a gate to hanging gardens, green and blooming.
In the library of time, it stands proud, a book with pages yet unread,
Hiding in magic words the seeds of future undreamt stars,
The emptiness it brings is full of echoes and of coming shadows,
An orbit's music, an offering of beginning before the altar to be.
The gift of passing it assumes, in its violin song, in the mystery of the tossed night,
A horizon unfolded like a mantle on the shoulders of the spilling time,
Eternity received in installments, farce in the light of mornings barely painted,
Youth, a world-making in each of us, the chant of an existence unembittered.
Time imparts its traveling star aura, a gift from gift,
Each minute woven into the fabric of fate in the rich carpet of its destiny,
That holy fervor, scattering into tales, our ageless beginnings,
An advance from life, in its generous treasury, ever sprinkled with new charm.
Feeling very trapped
Dungeon canary getting ready to be zapped
Proceed down a level
Only giving a quotable shovel
Building a winning case
In a better place
Riding in a vehicle to transfer
Something in the air had a stir
“Face the gunners mate
Tonight is the date
Do not worry about the sky points
You will not lose em in the Emirates joint”
As for the new castle that was united
Confident acting armored and knighted
Plan to invade the gold sands
Metal detectors in the hand
Mr. Bourne shouted from the mouth
“Why are you heading south?
To pick our bloody cherries
In order to pour your chalices and be merry”
A royal not in a hurry
Answered, “No we want to know what you have buried “
Before the match
Mr. Bourne wondered about the catch
Wanting to fry the whole batch
“A royal meal
Sounds like a good deal”
Stepping off the bus
Convicted canary had no fuss
Ready to take the arsenal aim
Realizing it is just high profile fame
Feeling very calm
Taking the threat made by the cannon ball bomb
Puttering on the beach
Deciding on a lesson to teach
Magpies treasure uncovered a tasteful test
Carrying all the ingredients that were in the chest
Claiming their pies are the best
Mr. Bourne watched in content
Reaching his one goal that he meant
In the flavor went
Deceptive dessert destined to be sent
Baked by mag the pie
Well decorated and that was no lie
Placed in a box
Addressed “Thackray now having Goldie locks”
Arriving home seeing the gift
This gave the west ham and nice lift
Reading the attached letter
That stated you will play better
Table saw a movement that counted three
Jumping over the buzzing bees
Hornets now behind
Closer to relegation time
After eating the treat
Ever so sweet
With a accompanied wine
Temptation that was divine
Not able to decline
In the end Thackray shirt turned color Claret
Due to the after dinner drink that was a perfect pair it
Thackray thought this was good and fun
Before a thought came to her when she was done
Appointment book said Sunday meeting at St James
Playing a game
Letting out a gigantic gastric bubble
Saying “Uh oh I am a west ham in big trouble”
I am a poet
I sprinkle hearts
With verses, flowers
Rhymes and kisses
In front of this mute
Beauty
Which moves away
And that I ogle
Oh! Woman
Madam
God has opened up the Heaven
To meet and greet us
Two chalices of honey
Are near the oasis
You and I are going for a swim
In the middle of summer
And afterwards, on the beautiful pavement
We will go for a walk
What an evening of beauty
Of love, of peace
Of joy and gaiety
In front of the bay!
Copyright © October 2024, Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved.
Hébert Logerie is the author of numerous collections of poetry.
Je Suis Un Poète
Je suis un poète
J’arrose les cœurs
De vers, de fleurs
De rimes et de baisers
En face de cette beauté
Muette
Qui s’éloigne
Et que je lorgne
Oh ! Femme
Madame
Dieu a ouvert le ciel
Pour nous recevoir
Deux calices de miel
Sont près du réservoir
Toi et moi nous allons baigner
En pleine saison de l’été
Et après, sur le beau pavé
Nous irons nous promener
Quelle soirée de beauté
D’amour, de paix
De joie et de gaîté
En face de la baie !
Copyright © Octobre 2024, Hébert Logerie, Tous droits réservés.
Hébert Logerie est l’auteur de nombreux recueils de poésie.
Soy Un Poeta
Soy un poeta
Salpico corazones
De versos, de flores
De rimas y de besos
Frente a esta muda
Belleza
Que se aleja
Y que yo miro con los ojos
¡Oh! Mujer
Señora
Dios ha abierto el cielo
Para encontrarnos y saludarnos
Dos cálices de miel
Están cerca del oasis
Tú y yo vamos a nadar
En pleno verano
Y después, sobre la hermosa acera
Daremos un paseo
iQué tarde de belleza
De amor, de paz
De alegría y de júbilo
Frente a la bahía!
Copyright © Octubre 2024, Hébert Logerie, Todos los derechos reservados.
Hébert Logerie es autor de numerosos poemarios.