Long Mélange Poems
Long Mélange Poems. Below are the most popular long Mélange by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Mélange poems by poem length and keyword.
The turning wheel of time
stirs up the dust of disarray,
that settles in the crumbling cauldron
of disordered life of illusion.
In the maiming moments
of disdained dejection,
truth tumbles in the mélange
of disorientation chaos.
Under the fantasy firmament
psyche in desertic isolation,
embedded in mindscape imagery,
suffering desiccated and lonely,
searches for a novel niche
in self-constructed reverie
to get a spellbound shelter
of captivating hope in frustration.
Dormant notion then invents dream,
steers mind into domain of delusion.
A thing made is destined to break,
but not by the will of the creator,
for whom the sense of time collapses,
making the frame of timeless trance,
where the dreamer assembles relentless
the shifting scenes of desire dreams.
The montage etched by the trail of mirage,
migrating in dunes of desolation,
makes collage of dream in deluded mind
against backdrop of nocturnal oasis.
The dreamer doesn’t see the dawn,
for the soul sleeps entranced deep within,
can’t escape self-built illusory maze,
until divine consciousness makes wake-up call.
Charcoal clouds melt from scorched ashen sky,
summer rain floats on drizzling waves.
The seeping spectrum of the setting sun
sparkles on the slant of splash,
drenching my mauve meadow.
From the moistened crack of the dry soil
sprouts a sapling spreading tender leaves to sky,
cradles a cute bud flushed by soft touch of rain,
unfurling the pink petals draped in twilight tinge.
In my rain-soaked desolate pasture I see
the patina of rose with the sheen of your smile,
sprinkling the mélange of rainbow hues.
drenched in sunset glint
leaning leaves dance with raindrops…
lattice of pearls glows
September 18, 2020
Syllables count checked on howmanysyllables.com
Contest : Writing Challenge -Nature, Four In One
Sponsor : Constance La France
The revolving wheel of the ceaseless time
rotates the contrived kaleidoscope of life,
the riveting patterns change persistently
in the mélange of motif within the mind.
The chameleon colors transform transiently
the visage of mind’s topographic tapestry
into ashen canvas of burnt barrenness,
or into painted exuberance of emerald valley.
The diffused dreams on the desolate drift,
cascade away along the stream of sight,
meandering on the mesmeric drapery,
weaved with the strands of ebullience.
The vision replicates the wings of butterfly,
flittering on the ripples of the rapturous air,
and before it flies away beyond the horizon,
forms for me the facsimile of fulfillment.
On my lonesome travel on the tortuous path
across the green wasteland in reviving rains,
or along the golden garden trail in autumn,
I am suffused with the splendor of colors,
As the shutter of my sanguine mind opens,
the flourishing film of receptive sensuality
captures the sublime snapshots of beauty
for the collage of life called kaleidoscope.
The rhapsody of rainbow
melts in morose mélange,
the concoction of colors
bleeds bland in
shattered silence,
sucked out
of crumbled core
of sensuous cloud,
soothing rain rinses
the stains in broken hearts,
shades of grey paints
the frayed linen of love,
redundant.
The requiem
of longing patina
of repentant rose
resonates melancholic medley
in the portals of petals,
the faded gloss
turns into tears
in pearls of mourning dew,
desiccates uncared
under the summer sun
of the desert mind,
the wilted flower falls
on weathered gravestone
of spent passion,
departed.
The cacophony captured
in the melody of forlorn music,
chaotic symphony floats
out of tune
on disharmonic wave,
strained smiles displayed
with elusive enactment
in ostentatious podium of life,
songs turn into echo
of convoluted noise
in hollow souls,
pretentious.
The intriguing facet
of listless life
seen entranced
through liquefied layers
of cynical stratum,
configures pessimism
in the sunken essence
of living exaltation,
the apparent aspect
refracts defiled expression
of warped existence,
enshrined.
Staying on a promontory, I watch,
The wobbling mass of water below.
Before my eyes,
The sea stretches far;
An infinite scroll of chiffon,
Rolling and unrolling
In shades of green and sapphire.
In its sedate hours of brooding silence,
A calm expanse with feeble waves,
As if seized by an uncanny lassitude,
Lying in majesty,
Swirling in ecstasy.
Within this mammoth silver submarine,
How many mysterious live forms thrive!
What curious shaped corals, what all sea urchins!
What wealth of fish, what gigantic mammals!
Between the blue sky above
And the blue sea below
I see seagulls fly,
The long beaked pelicans prey,
Grampuses heaving their huge form,
Above the calm surface,
And the milky spray tossing shiny pearls,
Upon the stretching naked strands.
I can see a distant sail,
And the hull of a ship,
Gliding over undulating waves,
Leaving a frothy trail of foam behind,
With water churning and spiraling around,
Where sharks and seals and dolphins swim.
Piles of silver clouds move above
And the golden sands stretch below,
With periwinkles, crabs and shells,
Scattered by the receding waves.
Splashing tides, dancing weeds
Rising crescendo, falling rhythm
Oh! What a splendid scene,
In the rosy gleam of this evening!
What delectable mélange
Of tinkling sensory delights!
For the contrived inducement
of the fixated being,
an aligned identity personified,
changes in self-devised palette
of metamorphosed color mélange,
while the conjured chameleon,
slyly cocooned,
paints surreptitiously
the shape-shifted portrait
d e c e p t i v e.
In ostensible enactment
of life’s incredible drama,
performance perfected in one-act play
with obsessed passion parodied,
gilds the corollary crafted by alchemy,
an axiomatic designed drive
induces the wily shift
from one actor to another
c o n t r i v e d.
Out of the limelight,
the covert colors fade
on virtually made-up visage,
the pallid original face
morphs mystically into
veracity mirror of actuality,
reflects the real identity depiction,
painted by primal hues of facade
of distinctive disposition
e p i t o m i z e d.
The spasm of pragmatic perception
splits the mirror,
the shards of shattered pretence
in the debris of demolished conceit
disappears in the crypt of obscurity
d i s c a r d e d.
The transformation creates the eluding entity,
an alien in its reinvented realm,
completes the illusory pattern
designed by the paradigm of contrast
ingrained in symbolized persona
d i v er g e n t.
For the contrived inducement of fixated being,
the transmuting tenet of uniqueness,
the personified indented identity,
changes in the self-devised palette
of metamorphosed color mélange,
while the conjured chameleon slyly cocooned,
paints the shifting façade of deception.
In the ostensible enactment of life’s incredible drama,
the performance perfected in one-act play
with the obsession of passion professed,
gilding the consequence crafted by alchemy,
the surreptitious shift from one actor to another,
is an axiomatic drive of the dormant design.
Out of the limelight, the clandestine colors fade
on the tangible visage of virtual makeup,
the pallid original face morphs mystically into
the veracity mirror of fragile actuality,
reflecting the real rendering of identity,
rinsed with the primal hues of persona
of the distinctive disposition embodied once.
The spasm of schematic perception splits the mirror,
the shapeless shards of shattered pretence
scatter as discarded debris willfully abandoned.
Transformation creates the deluding entity,
an alien in its own renovated realm,
completes the illusive paradigm of contrast.
The Greyhound reels over creaking axles.
Northern Kentucky puts on weight in summer,
a green mélange thickens,
yet inside our trundling tube,
joints rattle,
gears burn through paunch and muscle.
We lurch over a crest down into a holler
An old Shaker Hymn booms across the radio:
When we find ourselves in a place just right
'Twill be in the valley of love and light.
I have often longed to be 'in a place just right,'
to be at ease in these bucking bones,
even when breathing this smother
of body odor and diesel.
Then we dip down into a valley.
At a wooden store advertising cold beers
we stop.
"Is this the right place?" I ask.
"It’s as close as we get", says the driver.
~~~~~
Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays to all.
In the backyard garden
I grew a mélange of flowers,
but the one that bloomed with gleam
beneath the shower of moonbeam,
you cherished the most, I remember.
Your favorite flower, Rajanigandha,
you wore in curls around your ebony hair,
gliding with the lattice of its pleats
to girdle your swan neck supple,
the image still unfaded, I treasure.
Every night now at the moonrise,
on your smiling portrait on the wall,
I place a garland of this snow-white satin flower,
feel you return to embrace me with the fragrance
of your beloved flower, I adore.
____________
(The English name of Rajanigandha is Tuberose
which is a night-blooming flower)
March 11, 2021
Contest : I Remember
Sponsor : Malabika Ray Chaudhuri
A lot of it happened when not looking,
they are captured as photo-images
still arriving
undeveloped.
Beneath the skin of a retro-vison
dark scenes of rain
slicing through confused clouds
forever caught as an opaque film
over half-closed eyes.
There are visible gestalts –
shadow dances of passing daydreams.
A mélange of cursory detachments
once mistaken for a life.
More small bundles of lost moments
left discarded
on the side of narrowing roads,
nevertheless, the time-ravaged
push on
to stake their claim on this day.
This morning or the next,
you vow to leave your camera at home
even knowing
that there are still empty spaces
in your ever-growing album.