Long Juxtapositions Poems
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When accidental
auroras stroll along
the pale highlights of
camouflaging corpses
and death blossoms
in vulturous hearts of
dreadful puppets,
she always holds
pixie dusts of
strawberry seeds within
october's obsidian quartz.
Gaze beyond those
glass-stitched horizons,
as she cracks the
carmine cocoon of
judgemental juxtapositions
and transforms
carbon-coated
milliseconds to
magenta-gold
pronunciation of
peaceful phrases.
She is a silken
cream-dove,
floating above
murky musings of
redolent rhinestone-
reveries.
As prismatic primroses
shall cleanse every
sin from the witching
spellbook, she will waltz
in whispering lulls of liberty,
emancipating from
chloroform-stained
chains of blood-
scented blames.
Her sunflower-shield
and aurous
summer-sword of
amber poesy
can slice spicy
silhouettes of
graphite goblins,
she will never
surrender to those
misinterpreting
megalomaniac minds,
who twirl along
masquerading rivulets
of manipulative
assumptions.
She is the shiniest roar
above grimoires of grief,
like an 'unassailable purity',
washing away
emerald exhales of pain,
who mutes each cosmic
raven's lament and
distils russet-white-lilies with
her alchemical aroma.
A Star-Studded Escapement
The foot of this lookout begins with a range of mountains and valleys in a tangle,
Juxtapositions alight that fills the mountain veins with snow at various angles,
The trees run wild through the valley covered floor,
This forest of green meanders along, as the paths’ core,
Clouds circulate and dapple the sunlit horizon in shades of light,
Their movement conjures up a gesture of continuous flight,
Creating shadows on the mountainous cape, at bright of day,
Plays on painted colored contrasts, illuminating as they may,
The snow caps reach to heaven as their eroded surfaces are shaped,
Flowers linger through the valley, where the forests drapes,
Engulfing the mystery of this scenic arrangement,
This fair path free of hindrance makes a great escapement,
The floral tapestry weaves throughout the treed mountain base,
Enjoying the view and the culmination of beauty is what we face.
"The Forgotten Poets"
Saints and Sinners
all calling out for
forgiveness
and wanton recognition
de Sade like minds
libertine and revolutionary
Saints living out their penance
kiss the sharp lips of Sinners
Juxtapositions of souls
Sinners become divine
Saints become unhinged
more human, mortalised
willingly they are led
They Become
Love makes us
All Hallowed Souls
intrepid and invisible
crazed with courage
walking unseen through
the sanctified temples
of the lost and isolated,
The Forgotten Poets
Manifesting, we are mesmerized
We are actuaries counting lives
through the hidden words
and forsaken numbers
along the jagged lines
absent of what
is most deeply sought
ruthless has been the confiscation
to spend our ink on clean sheets
imprinting heat we brand our marks
beating in time and out of time
a tattoo on a body of work
that will eventually be stroked
souls are traded
we are all bought
by the vanity to be read and seen eternally
understood by the Unseen who gifts us
A moment
to cross the static mind
to draw a line between
Trust and the Lies
We are Sensate
tracing softly the streets
in a lover’s open palm
to slide a finger sensuously,
provocatively
towards the crossroad
of an unclothed and vulnerable
upturned wrist
feel the pulse tickled
in the moist hollows of somewhere
a whispered breath
along a neck kissed
Communing with cunning alchemy
manifesting what is not said
through broken hearts
and the tears of half open doorways
closing on pasts best forgotten
wrapping our thoughts like
warm legs around the burning
Divine
leading us into temptation
with
futures and promises
(LadyLabyrinth / 2020)
“Certain souls may seem harsh to others,
but it is just a way, beknownst only to them,
of caring and feeling more deeply.”
Marquis de Sade
"My passions,
concentrated on a single point,
resemble the rays of a sun
assembled by a magnifying glass:
they immediately set fire
to whatever object they find in their way"
Marquis de Sade
As the glistening jewels
of snow cascade like
ballerinas pirouetting
to the crescendo of time,
choreographed from porcelain
keys of your h e a r t,
delicate fingers of the
winter moon stretch,
enveloping forlorn footprints
of poignant memories,
framed with petal-like poems
you've placed in the
gallery of my melancholic mind
where soulless shadows still~
haunt me in holographic
hues through somber nights, but
If I were to rewrite the anatomy
of this romance with~
juxtapositions, should I rescript
your promises in p s y c h e d e l i c ink?
knit silken sonnets from the
tapestry of scintillating
stars in our favour,
letting go of all the
seasonal silhouettes
that seized redolent rhymes,
maybe, it is from pain
we relearn to dream
in periwinkle pigments to
nurture and navigate through
decayed gardens embalmed in
opalescent tears and fluorescent fears
suppressed and
personified within gossamer
tales of sunflower s i l e n c e…
Quilted with questions that your
quintessential quill can~
reveal, in romanticised verses, to wade
through the abstracts of weary woes.
So, set your stones to
architect cobalt grey lanes,
to usher feathered thoughts into the
serenity of your scented sanctuary.
until I find the perfect gateway
adorned with crystals in the
verdant valleys, engrossed in vanilla flakes,
where cosmic yearnings are embroidered
between mauve instruments
harmonised from
xylophone whispers reverberating
in vermilion s t i l l n e s s…
You will always be the
clementine crown of my sun,
the scarlet scrapes in my ink,
zested in zealous dahlias
and no rain can drown
this celestial
c o l l a b o r a t i o n…..
Denouement
The plot thickens broadens in plastered confused juxtapositions
over time there and then weaves tapestries lost unfound caught
Viscous tears dried out shed rivers searching oases oceans of love
squeeze suffering hatred solid misconceptions scripted resolve
Crocheted dreams unsnarled in disguise colour rainbows stain-bows
stain blows and arrows offer inkblots from coiled council reconcile
Waters cascades cataclysmic beginnings alleviate alluvion’s weight
skirmish tease entice droplets of truths splashing change alteration
Naïve native losses childish unadulterated tangential torrents unfold
allude inundate delude adulthoods’ illusions commence from afresh
Under the bridges of ricocheted echoes trickle drops from Styx to
Ganges feed and contend with the seagulls and vultures of life
The story line concocts and conceives tell retells and remembers
the past as it blends narrates a misty final initiation’s webbed spray
Resolute resolution wets the gills washes clouds spins them around
until springs guzzle project thoughtful narration to entangle once more
Denouement Renewal De-new-ment confer contain depositions repositioned
as some tangling wisdom posits one swims in the same ocean never again
09th August 2016
Originally entered for contest 'Denouement' judged 24th August 2016
If there were no bad days, we would never realise the value of good ones
If we are never sad, we will never appreciate the joy of happiness
If we don't fall sick, we will not realise the value of good health
If we don't have any enemies, we will never realise the worth of good friends
If there were no autumn, we would not appreciate the beauty of spring
If there were no death, we will never enjoy life fully
Juxtapositions make life interesting, propel us to count our blessings
But for them life would be so boring!
31.07.2021
Chantelle Anne Cooke
Anything You Want - Must be New Poem
P o e t r y fills my heart
with lyrical acrolect:
slowly swaying
my fingers
to outstanding octaves,
through
ecstatic
liberated librettos,
uplifting in a
medley of
melancholic motions.
I n k is bleeding
in nocturnal nouns,
composing charismatic
choruses in
eclectic shades~
of
violet and vermilion,
and quiet quill
is still searching
for a
sentimental serene serenade,
every letter
meticulously moonwalks
between lines
of silver and grey,
engrossing beats
of a heavy heart
in subtle
soulful synonyms.
In a dynamic
world of word weaving,
poet’s depict a
choir of chronicles
from
mellifluous escapades,
merged in
magnetic metaphors
and synchronized similes,
glamorizing pain
in heavenly
harmonious juxtapositions,
whilst singing tales
of oxymorons,
ranting through a
rhythm of rhymes,
forming sonorous sonnets
with sensitive syllables.
But these are
encrypted musings
of my citrine heart.
In realms of a reality
that dreams breathless~
behind a
terrain of tercets
and porcelain prose.
For life as
an abundant artist
is a premature platform,
where e m o t i o n s
are expressed through
introverted introspections
once hidden in
the hush of hours.
Awed joyously while gripped with reverential fear
Blessed to possess eternal life midst this mortal being
Carnal yet granted with divine nature
Damned by sin, but now delivered through the Saviour...
That's my status since I came* to my compassionate Redeemer!
Everlasting freedom against bondage from worldliness
Flight yon firmament, bidding farewell to grave's forlorn
Grace enjoyed as guilt smitten with forgiveness
Hoisted toward heaven, escaping wrath of hell...
That's my victorious future assured by my compassionate God!
Illumined, inspired by Scriptures to be compassionate
Jubilant faith beholds hopelessness turning vibrantly radiant
Kingdom of the Lord draws nigh to the heart midst ministry pursuits
Love in its verity conquers selfishness-subtlety through pardons' purity
That's my commitment in serving my compassionate Lord!
Miracles not myth, as well as mercy of the Almighty magnify trust-momentum
Nourishing spirituality famished by skepticism, doubt and unbelief
Only in the Omnipotent Creator can my nothingness find great value
Precious am I in His sight who is a worthless worm, sans His priceless blood
Quitting not to become compassionate in sharing His love...
That's my perspective of who am I today since Christ came to my heart!
Isaiah 55:1 “Ho, every one that thirsteth, come ye to the waters, and he that hath no money; come ye, buy, and eat; yea, come, buy wine and milk without money and without price.”
July 5, 2025
13th place, "How You Feel and How God Feels" Poetry Writing Contest
Sponsored by Sara Kendrick; judged on 8/25/2025
It’s time we become aware of this syndrome lie:
“The more things change; the more they stay the same.”
Use your NI to simply check out this scamming phrase;
Are not change and same oxymoronic juxtapositions?!
Let us not be disillusioned and disrespected unto ourselves
And our Ancestors who have done so much over the centuries
To ensure that our slave-like conditions would become less and less;
Though we’re not where we wish to be here, we’re not where we once were:-
Thus, let us no longer be victims of this phase of the Oppressor Syndrome;
Rather, let us remain on the battlefield of the Lord in our liberation struggle:-
As Marley has reminded us...let’s emancipate ourselves from mental slavery;
Liberating our minds from the Oppressor Syndrome’s infecting self-destruction:-
Know this: the more we bring about changes continuing our liberation struggle,
The lesser becomes the necessary liberating work for succeeding younger generations;
Let renewed awareness awaken us to the absurdity of change keeping things the same;
Rather, in the face of adversity, let's be resilient, and journey onward in grateful hope:-
P.S. Indeed, more could be said; but has not the point been made?!
In liberating our minds from the Syndrome, so will we be liberated
from its oppression:-
Tuesday, 12:00 am
Tonight t'was the stars
I'll cascade a memorizing moon
Glimmering sanctified silence
along with
trickling twilight for
iconoclast ink,
the serpentine key to
sacred myrrh melodies
of my heirloom heart~
O glamorous specs of
citrine care to each
unravelling amber acrostic.
Under wakening oaks
blooming fuchsia fairytales
and coral morganites
of swallowing solitude,
I weave autumn aventurines
of the daring
despicable and an
endearing enigma
of woeful
belladonna blues.
Whilst stirring up wrinkled
jasper jupiters of
milky ways in
weary kaleidoscopic
eyes of a moon
pearled blanket,
my honeyed haikus
roar a beryl spar against
virtuoso villanelles
for mystical
shimmering spotlights
in a tourmaline moon dance~
Along sapphire sonnets
of idealized introspection
gurgling inside woe
casting whirls,
I ponder of whom is
able to grasp iridescent
chords of my sodalite soul
as well as the vocal
verses of
cinder cinquains~
For my soaked stanzas
of jade juxtapositions
are topaz tattoos
of pleasant peridots
of every trickling tear;
yet to remain wiped away.
In an heart sickened
topia of lilt lilacs
and magnificent miracles,
I forsooth you'll discover
a poetess' daffodil dreams
wrapped in blankets of
moonstone metaphors~
Waltzing under
whimsical wisteria in
lavender ballrooms
of gazing serenity sestinas,
I wonder the bliss
of lolite lagoons
in alluring dreams
an elysian ear shall
be lent to the
ode oasis of my
soft hesitant herald heart
and that vexed verses
of sojourned stanzas
will be understood.