Long Conviviality Poems
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On a fine April day, set out in the great cruise ship, Titanic,
Into the pelagic waters of Atlantic, with the weather alluringly sweet.
Plush it was with beaming fellow travelers and amenities astounding.
A journey of great excitement under a star-studded sky at night.
With the crew so hospitable, there was overwhelming warmth and conviviality.
Wine and liquor flowed down through gullets; tasty cuisines were served.
On the deck couples and lovers waltzed, a sweet breeze kissing their cheeks.
But tragedy loomed large in the form of an iceberg, unobserved.
I sat away from the crowd enjoying the rising gaiety.
What was the deafening sound I heard from near?
With a violent shake, the huge leviathan turned to one side.
Hardly knew what was happening, but sensed death was not far.
Hit hard n' ripped into two pieces, the vessel began sinking into the waters.
Amid euphonic melody and revelry, some didn’t know what was happening.
Some in panic ran helter skelter with growls and groans renting the air.
A man gave away his lifeboat to a mother and child, his own life abandoning.
It was a moment I witnessed the beauty of selfless love.
I was inspired to give away my lifeboat that I secured by chance.
A divine spark hit me, and all anxieties vanished instantly.
Sudden was the transmutation, I saw the whole scene in a new stance.
Heaven’s fire was lit in my breast and in love, my spirit began to glow,
How great it is to give life to someone who needed it more.
I heard the angel’s voices flit, saw a new door opening wide.
Had a fleeting vision of the heavenly hall with aureate roof and glazed floor.
I knew all my agony depart and hope instantly sparking.
With God on my side, I felt sinking into the icy depth,
My mind was calm with an unusual courage filling my every nerve,
And my horizon growing bigger and enlarging into uncommon width.
My inaudible parting words were “Goodbye Titanic, fare thee well,
In the oceanic depths, you stay as a symbol of world’s fleeting glory,
Making men think that fate can shatter and pulverize human hubris.
In the sunless Atlantic lair, lie down ageless to tell your allegorical story"!
How Times Have Changed~
We ran so innocently in lush, soft, beautiful grass!
Dreamt of wonderful futures on the finest, fresh smelling sheets.
Mother treated each child as her very own angel creation.
When apart, we pigtailed beauties, actually called each other on real phones!
Sadly, the deliciuis times of being together, are no longer here,
And no, sorry! Facebook and a child stuck in front of any screen.
Can never bring back the joy, the togetherness, the very vibrancy
Of loving and close human conviviality.
Love has transformed, so that, it's like looking for it in a rear view mirror.
We lost our love for one another, in tragic totality!
A God, a church for some, just is far too demanding,
Besides, we might have to leave our house, or worse be standing.
We killed God and became ravenous, selfish beasts.
We cannot connect humanly anymore, as once we fearlessly did.
That feigned pretense of "caring" is absolutely the worst.
It is nothing more than electronic symbols on a device!
Our once sparkling, spiritual souls, that belonged to God.
Totally stone cold,like the dead, under the sod..
666 and his minions launching their final work.
Theit goal? To see that God is never once mentioned.
We really think we are bigger than God? Yes, we consider Him a clod!
We never attribute any success we have to Him
Drunk on our own wonderfulness, indeed hollowness,
In a world that we never created.
Detachment, no-speaking is the word of the day,
We never consider or think that another human,
Might need a hug, a visit, from another soul.
In fact, we rob them of hearing our voices at all.
So busy are we, destined on a train to hell.
Deaf,are we, totally to our own death's knell.
On fine new couches we sit, huge TV's captivate us,
Our stomachs, full and bulbous, but it doesn't bother us.
So off to get manicures, haircuts and more.
We are horribly prideful and vain, strutting like arrogant roosters.
We can't stop playing vainglorious games.
Never for God, oh, no~just for our personal,insignificant fame!
Panagiota Romios
4/10/2018
An immortal time traveler,
I visit placid planets and shining stars
across the inter-stellar space
in the timeless continuum.
I’ve visited many times in disguise
the unique blue planet,
thriving with vibrant earthly life.
There, in the distant past eons ago,
I cherished the flow of geniality air.
On its affable wings
I could freely fly like a bird
across the span of the azure sky
to the horizon of lilting lands,
soar alongside of the floating flock
in the warm space of conviviality.
It was the chromatic time then,
when in the vibes of vibgyor dawn,
tinged by the spectral sunbeam,
I could see the friendly throng
in the breeze-braced plateau,
singing together the spring song
of unrestrained intimacy.
In my final visit now,
I see the shadow of lurking desolation
creep menacingly close unhindered,
turning the earth’s corners into cages.
The confined spirits plunging in lone abysses
stagnate within gripping isolation.
Intolerance weaves threads of hatred
in the fabric of the scary times.
Innocent blood is shed in madness,
fanaticism spreads like wild fire.
Life is splintered by the lancet of chaos
into disposable debris uncared.
In the psychic grip of insolent stress
the fostered relationships crash.
Before the world order collapses
I ardently wish the times change.
The war-tanks become pianos,
guns transform into harmonic flutes,
deadly arsenals turn harps,
mercenaries become violins.
They all perform the symphony
of peace and universal brotherhood.
Before the hourglass breaks,
let the essence of times change.
The thorns of contempt turn into flowers,
cactus of hatred changes to olive branch.
Let the crooked minds morph into alchemists,
make golden strands from rusted fence wire
that will create the garlands,
intertwine the humankind with love.
DON’T THE COUNTLESS COUNT?
What if “what if” didn’t matter at all?
What if the word “if” didn’t exist?
Would madness and sadness continued to call?
And would disdain, pain and petulance persist?
There are countless millions of people waiting to see if……….
If…. the world implicates impotence in the imposition of an implosion
And an explosion of exponential proportions
If….. children will still suffer starvation with a lack of elation
While adults liberate libation from the arms of repudiation and renunciation
Without the justification of abjuration
If…… politicians will persistently pontificate to people with platitudes and perforate their dreams with dreariness and dread
If…..The Bible continues to be a book believers were born for
And sinners in sanctimonious seclusion harbor only scorn for
If…gun metal will be melted down to make buckles for children’s shoes and no longer create ornaments of atrocious armaments
With supplemental supplication and subjugation is no longer sorrow’s creation
If……love’s loquaciousness leads to a land where lamentable liars are held liable for their lies
And become predisposed and prone to sincerity and integrity that is integral to intelligent and incisive ideology
If…..the universe will rise above a curse with the consistency of cantankerous and consternating cruelty
If…...the collective mind of mankind will conceive of conviviality and make merciless malice a triviality
If…..we will ever answer all these “ifs”
What if no one need ask if this or that will be?
What if calm champions and honest campaigns trumps over combat and war?
What if calmness finally comes to you and me,
and those countless millions who find battling a beleaguering bore?
© 2008…..free cee!
DON’T THE COUNTLESS COUNT?
What if “what if” didn’t matter at all?
What if the word “if” didn’t exist?
Would madness and sadness continued to call?
And would disdain, pain and petulance persist?
There are countless millions of people waiting to see if……….
If…. the world implicates impotence in the imposition of an implosion
And an explosion of exponential proportions
If….. children will still suffer starvation with a lack of elation
While adults liberate libation from the arms of repudiation and renunciation
Without the justification of abjuration
If…… politicians will persistently pontificate to people with platitudes and perforate their dreams with dreariness and dread
If…..The Bible continues to be a book believers were born for
And sinners in sanctimonious seclusion harbor only scorn for
If…gun metal will be melted down to make buckles for children’s shoes and no longer create ornaments of atrocious armaments
With supplemental supplication and subjugation is no longer sorrow’s creation
If……love’s loquaciousness leads to a land where lamentable liars are held liable for their lies
And become predisposed and prone to sincerity and integrity that is integral to intelligent and incisive ideology
If…..the universe will rise above a curse with the consistency of cantankerous and consternating cruelty
If…...the collective mind of mankind will conceive of conviviality and make merciless malice a triviality
If…..we will ever answer all these “ifs”
What if no one need ask if this or that will be?
What if calm champions and honest campaigns trumps over combat and war?
What if calmness finally comes to you and me,
and those countless millions who find battling a beleaguering bore?
© 2012copyright PHREEPOETREE …..~free cee!~
THE AL-ANDALUS QUARTET: PART TWO
CÓRDOBA / QURTUBAH 950 AD / 339 AH
From Madinat al-Zahra
and the City of Córdoba, the roads
to the Renaissance are renamed and
traveled, patrolled and protected, routed
and projected by the Umayyad Caliph
and the frail conviviality of constituent
cultures, which like the white light of
day and the lace veil of night, are somehow
connected in the shadows of evening and
the gray skies of dawn but in fundamental
opposition define one another
An astute Sephardic rabbi
said the culture of Islam in Al-Andalus
is like a cataclysmic flood that abuses
the land, rearranges its features, nourishes
its soil, eventually disappears through
evaporation and runoff, leaving folksong
and legend to chronicle its passing
The transmission and enhancement of
Classical knowledge, philosophical
erudition, the patient diplomacy within
the righteous framework of an arrogant
tolerance are like a brilliant sunrise in the
medieval world but even the sanguine
observer hears the clashing of swords in
the far mountain passes and the whispers
of betrayal at clandestine meetings and
knows that, bright as it is at this high tide
of impact, the culture is fading, not like
day into night but like the moment of
noon into the moment thereafter, that
sunlight and flood, both powerful and
magic, are receding in concert, slowly,
inexorably, through the Taifa mosaic,
the slow-motion shattering of a
stained-glass window shining colors and
light in a thousand directions, then fading
through evening toward midnight and
darkness, illuminated by stars that,
in spite of their beauty, will later be
remembered as light years away
Emanuel Carter
A deep, dark kindred spider looms to proffer the sentiment,
That abuse just objectifies the long persistent winter:
Scouring around playfully, but embedded in the night -
Two way of seeing it but only one plight.
That black body, its piercing eyes drive acutely,
In the lengthy web that’s receptive but selfish with quirk,
With thin, spindly legs which effect to mobilise,
The creature only some befriend to glamourise.
We hold to the summer, autumn and spring as the norm,
Not winter’s harrowing chill which makes us so often ill;
The act of telling someone you've been raped, abused,
Should not be a sick kick or a jester’s a thrill.
If you don't give us our minds, stance and chirps,
You'll just be cushioning that admiring psychologist,
Who asks us about physical abuse, sexual, and rape,
But who we hate to have as we’ve no trait.
Give us our spirits, intellect and powers:
Don't glare, glance and glower at our ordinary activities;
Equality only exists when you feel it and can tower,
In the informal social networks of civil conviviality.
And of course, nasty small talk itself causes rape,
Violence and abuse which derides and can shape,
The heart that reaches out to befriend and welcome,
The fence-sitter, the open mind who quietly relates.
But if you say physical abuse just objectifies other lesser evils,
Like criticising needlessly, cutting us off, and gloating,
Then your sick in the head and unforgivable,
Because all discrimination is unnecessary and avoidable.
It was the drifting time then
With its flow I could freely fly
Across the span of the azure sky
To distant lands beyond the horizon
Soar along with the floating flock
In the warm air of conviviality.
It was the drifting time then
When in the vibes of unfurled dawn
Tinged by the golden sunbeam
I could join the kith and kin
On the breeze-braced boughs
Croon together the spring song.
It was the drifting time then
When drenched in twilight gleam
I returned to the teeming nest
In the fond closeness of you all
Fold my wings in the embrace
Of unrestrained cordial intimacy.
It is the stalled time now
Shadow of invisible coronavirus
Creeps menacingly everywhere
Turning the nest into a cage
Confined morale plunges in lone abyss
Languishes in gripping isolation.
It is the stalled time now
Burden heavy on my collapsed wings
Songs have disappeared in dark night
But the rhythm of hope pulsates in heart
New pristine dawn will color the gloomy sky
Joy and freedom of the olden times will return.
It is the stalled time now
The altered scenario has transformed
Me and the way I look at my secluded future
Where the norms of intimacy will be redefined
As the recouped life isolated and changed
Adjusts to the ways reset to the new normal.
___________________
Written : June 23, 2021
Edited : December 30, 2021
Contest : Coronavirus (COVID-19)
Sponsor : Robert James Liguori
The gray exhaust of twelve warm hearths
Chased the clouds into the afternoon sky.
There stood the stalwart mansion
At peace with its surroundings
And steadfast with its environs.
Beckoning an affectionate greeting
Just beyond the bridge, it appears
To give light the sublime levity
Of being a nuance of darkness.
Its façade is as prestigious and lucent
As a librarian’s bustline in her noblest estate.
Its walls of luminous windows
Sit still in a kinetic majesty of colors,
Like the yew tree in its bounty of crimson berries.
This refuge from the current disharmonies
Radiates from its midst an unheard music
And a conviviality suggesting a vicarious ecstacy.
Here, perhaps, is that first step in darkness
Of the empire prophesized to come,
Bringing its measureless song
Of the queen of the northern lights,
Whose monarch calms the most vociferous tempest
And warms the most bitter winter chill.
Here, under the clouds of mortal brevity,
Contained are the exotic reactions
To long suppers and golden evenings
From the replenishing of early traditions,
Beyond youth’s humblest dreams.
The twelve hearths fully aglow,
Fueled with only kindling atoms,
Tell of a future only they can know
And every human mind fathoms.
Within these high stone walls,
Lit by radiant lamps’ glare,
Every place an eye-beam falls,
There is the glory of confident flair.
BEAUTY BLOSSOMS AT A BLESSING’S BEHEST
She was new to me on New Year’s Eve
Even when I felt my senses take their quickened and quiet leave
She had on high heeled purple patent leather shoes
And a patent pending on perfection
Until romance was reborn as rejection
Saliently I was sequestered to a semi- exclusive island
Where slaves to sensuousness succumb to seduction
With the introduction of infinitely instant infatuation for a fool
And desire that could only be quelled by the quietude that resides in her sigh
But for the lasciviousness that lay in her every lie
We begged the New Year begin with Louisiana, lakes, limericks and love
and, per chance, poetry provided by proverbial peacefulness
with cheery cherry blossoms budding beguilingly for only both of us
like the tree we sat under when wonder stole my eye
and I first heard you lie
sadly,
falsehoods failed to forecast a future of fogginess
and a mistiness that hid amid a mystery
for you were an enigma…….
a duality
with a persuasion to plurality
and conceived of by conviviality
you were a mercurial imp of imperfections personified
But what’s worse is that you so casually, callously and caustically lied
Oh yes, and the following New Year’s Eve
I heard our apple blossom tree finally died
© 2012 copyright PHREEPOETREE…..~free cee!~