Long Sempiternal Poems
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Written: August 07, 2023
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Within the depths of soliloquy,
A voice unfolds in a sempiternal plea,
Seeking solace in the scintilla of rhyme,
Guiding us through the corridors of time.
In surreptitious whispers, it speaks,
Through every word, a story leaks,
A wafture of emotions, raw and true,
Revealing secrets, hidden from view.
With every verse, it finds the wherewithal,
To heal the wounds, both vast and thrall,
To mend the fragments of a woebegone heart,
And bestow solace to those torn apart.
Yet, some may anathemize its power,
Dismiss it as mere words, fleeting and sour,
But in the hush of its aphonic grace,
Lies the strength to heal and embrace.
Whispers of the soul, they hold the key,
To unlock the chains that bind us free,
To transcend the boundaries of the mind,
And find sanctuary in the words we find.
In the soliloquy of our deepest sought,
The sempiternal whispers cannot be bought.
They are the scintilla of truth and light,
Guiding us through the darkest of nights.
With surreptitious grace, they dance,
Leaving behind a lasting trance,
A wafture of hope, love, and peace,
Easing the burdens that never cease.
When I sit atop enchanted hills
draped in green silk,
I feel your presence so fiercely;
our distance waning,
feeling it's gravitational pull, as
our souls are entwined in
iridescent bliss, amidst this
phantasmagoric love story.
Swirling amidst the clouds, that
blanket our hearts, with
everlasting emotions—
I cover myself in your
honey-glazed scent,
pirouetting beneath
glimmering astral showers,
drizzled throughout our
cosmic haven of resplendency.
Cradled in the ballad of
your sempiternal devotion and love,
I’m addicted to your alchemy, as
I feel wisps of our intimacy,
sparkling in alabaster beams of
a virescent destiny,
layered across aureate tales
of our chasmic ever after.
She denied Love like an Enemy
When she said she never loved
And I never felt so hated as I did then!
It was true, she said she never had –
In all our Years, she never had
And never have I felt so bad, as then.
It all felt true, the hugs, the songs –
I guess she meant to break me,
And she did.
But what is broken mends itself
And when it comes to know –
Yes, when I came to know, the hate
The hate was not my fault
I found, I’d other seed to sow
On better ground, on hallowed ground
And O! the sound, the sound
Of broken laughter
That proceeds from tears
Is what the sempiternal and catharted mess I am,
Doth say.
I’ve come to be!
And we,
And we,
And we,
Shall never meet again!
So be it, then.
Often, I get lost in my thoughts,
in my inglenook by my hearth-
I unwind knots;
all need these quiet spots,
to gather words in our mind;
to leave our sempiternal tears.
I drift, I float away in dreams,
lost in a riporian scene -
of rocky streams;
where I can create themes,
I never know what I will find,
as I go back in time and years.
Many thoughts take me to childhood,
where I gangoozled in the green-
happy I stood;
by my high fort of wood,
where my child words and dreams twined;
and I whispered fugaciou prayers.
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February 3, 2020
Poetry/Rhyme/Floating in Dreams
Copyright Protected, ID 20- 1222-841-03
All Rights Reserved, 2020, Constance La France
Written for the contest, Exalted Words
sponsor, Chantelle Anne Cooke
Second Place
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Five Unusual words used -
inglenook - a cozy nook by a hearth
sempiternal - eternal
riptorian - by the bank of a stream
gangoozled - to stare
fugacious - fleeting
I picked these unusual words because I like to find words that are not
used these days in normal speech and writing, and because I am fascinated
with dictionary's of all kinds, I found this dictionary called Alphadictionary.
It is full of unusual words and I am happy for the opportunity to use some
of the words found within for this poem.
Rhyming Pattern -(rhyming verified on Rhymezone)
axaabc dxddbc exeebc
Am I fitful,
fluctuating, fluid?
thin compass waver
as I jubilantly weave
lilac tree vignettes
that weep or chortle,
rainbow figment curtain
rashly wished upon
in grain smudge zephyr
garnet sand raw vehicle
garden common opal
transit sidestep
to a multiverse
of sappy fruit drip
net bag of niche
mauve rim canopy
a gilt ring culprit’s
flashpoint conjure
stirring taxi cabs
of lavish spurt
woolgathering
a gold rush stray
footslog must
have steel encased.
undulating folds
entangled nomad feint
dwarf yellow scorcher
firmament fatality
dash for straw hut
casita or elm
wood cabin where
advertence on
turnpikes, trails,
woven tracks lead
trajectory abuts
plod along dry path
dust bowl swirling as
they spurn allotments
meek enshrouded lull
with unalloyed poise
to jettison narcolepsy
brief embargo on
spiral plumule
when one’s physique
has many harrowing
gasps, taut breath
that intrinsic quest
for glistening cascade
seems an urgent
void, crushing
diapason rudderless
mahatma clement at
Arcadias nascent
totem of egress
yet charismatic
terminal flag
as this sentient
hypothesiser on
emerald tint bract
beneath hiking boot
unflinching
wild clasp at
beanpole verges
riven from
shade burst cockcrow
lure an impetus
to meandered pretext
primeval boon-docks
whilst tranquil flit
discommoding tawdry
pitch or tilt
gaunt endowment
I must brood on
surreal moiety
of cerebral aspect
squandered
rude reckoning aside
lapse into sullen
vacuum found across
a link whose blind
velvet crush lingers
query later doused
in vapour whirl gush
inkling thin veneer
sheeny beadlet
brow sapped
nod and falter
to a childhood turf
shelter for the limb
victim of grinding
marathon on marathon
to relish glow hue noons
hermetically abeyant
sempiternal eves
avenue to wanderer
fatigued yet still
in broad pursuit
of deep quiddity
For many times we've been down,
Are we not still standing now?
At dawn we petition the divine,
Hoping for renascence into the sempiternal.
Be it luminous sun or caliginous night, neither is optional,
Then the sun kisses the mountains goodbye,
Reminding us how swiftly time flies.
If we sleep,
Will we see tomorrow?
The rising sun is never promised.
Yet with hope, we close our eyes,
Longing to see it kiss the dew,
Freeing the grass to stand tall with pride.
That is us, that will be us,
Falling like raindrops,
But we never fall,
We descend to silence the dust,
And rise again as petrichor.
We never fall, we transcend,
That's how life shapes us,
There we were, this is us,
and those will be us,
and with hope,
Here we are, still standing,
We never fall.
The Ballerina
The curtain parted...there upon the stage,
'neath bright chatoyant spotlight's glaring glow
she stood, a cynosure in tunneled beam;
demure, yet with ineffable glamor.
With lovely bow, this ingenue young girl,
composed, yet like a whirling breeze, began
her lissome ballet dance of twirls and swirls
to mellifluous sounds of violins.
A panacea of sweet calm filled up
my soul as she so gracefully succumbed
to call of violins and merged with them
in artful dance I wished sempiternal.
The beauty of her gracefulness in dance
enveloped me in deep, hypnotic trance.
Sandra M. Haight
Unrhymed Sonnet
Chatoyant: Having a changeable luster. A chatoyant stone or gemstone, such as the cat's-eye.
Cynosure: Something or someone who is the centre of attention.
Demure: shy and modest
Glamour: defined as the elegant, exciting or attractive quality that makes someone or something seem special or desirable.
Ineffable: too overwhelming to be expressed or described in words; inexpressible
Ingénue: A naive, innocent girl or young woman
Lissome: Moving or able to move with grace and ease; lithe and graceful
Mellifluous: something musical, melodious or pleasant to hear
Panacea: A remedy for all diseases, evils, or difficulties; a cure-all
Sempiternal: Enduring forever; eternal
Long ago in a far away land lived a woman who
had style and "glamor". No longer was she "demur"
she possessed so much confidence. She was
the "cenynosure" for all the men in her small village"
This beauty had came along way. She was a orphan
at a young age and went through" ineffable" things
to hard to express. One day she was given "panacea"
and her life changed instanstanly.
She became a lovely creature with "chatoyant" eyes".
Not a trace of the" ingenue" woman she once was.
Men were spellbound by her"melliflous" voice and
her" lissome walk.
I never tire of this touching tale because this
amazing woman was my great, great grandmother.
Alexis Y
5-15-16
Author's note this tale is pure fiction. Just my spin on
Silent One's Challenge.
At another's home she dwell
As a house-girl to beautify the name
Expected from her chores done well
Tired and emotions running wildly untame'
Living among others isolatedly
Disdained and insulted daily
For mistakes made unintentionally
Treated by all unfairly and brutally
Her abode, a living Hades
Life is an unwantedly de trop fate
Filled with much lovely hate
Welcomed with unfriendly shades
As kids in the house ruthlessly disregarded
And the housemistress fretfully commanded
Garments are dirty and need laundry
No food and she's very hungry
House filled with filth she would broom
The kids are looking untidy she should bathe
Clothes are very dirty she has to washeth
Then iron and park all in a special room
No food she must invariably cook
And sometimes would've to patiently look
Hopefully wait to eat from the leftovers
Barely gets a deserving laud from her owners
As she's deemed by them only a mere slave
That deserves none other than to have
The heartedly desires of her mistress
Carried out with no exhibition of stress
Even if she's feeling as ferocious as fire
Or contradicting her instilled desire
Of neverendingly sempiternal freedom
Which has not even an iota of boredom
Her heart was tainted with painful memories
Of the unseen, untold, and neglected fettle
That should be one of the must-told stories
Narrated to all and sundry spreading in hurtle
As they truly deserve to be respected,
Welcomed, accepted, and fairly treated
By all in our homes and, at large, the society
Cohabit in perfect peace, unity, and tranquillity.
I was so looking forward to my trip to Tahiti
this was to be my panacea, a sure cure for all my ails.
For once there I could forget the dregs of big city life
and swim the opal sheen of a chatoyant sea, in tranquil peace.
Arriving in my loudest vacation garb, I felt at ease
in my role of cynosure, strutting like a movie star.
All to soon I was whisked off...to the glamour and opulence
that awaited me at my ineffable, unbelievably posh hotel/palace.
There I was royally greeted, by a true ingénue beauty
the epitome of grace, she exuded a gentle demure and friendly manner.
She was like a gazelle...swift and yet lissome
with an indelible smile that seemed sempiternal, and omnipresent.
And in the sweetest, mellifluous song like voice
she softly whispered...“welcome to paradise.”