Sundown creeps,
across adorned amber,
sky whose welkin,
shades volte face,
as evening edges,
into cosmic chakra,
of visual feasts,
orange, pink, purple,
prelude which emblazon,
point of day exodus,
atrophied moon winking,
mystic morph of,
dwindling halo,
to homeward bound,
throngs thirsting,
for redress within,
winter jasmine enclave,
cabal, clique, cluster,
in shrunken retreat,
from dreary toil,
nudge from nightfall,
whose cryptic code,
a dark art patois,
exemplified by,
eastern screech owl,
whose stocky medium,
and varied volume,
that twilight tremolo,
purring incognito,
among other creatures,
wet soil genus,
brisk firefly flash,
in town backyards,
wing rubbing katydid,
tree top rasp,
or amid green bush,
chirpy cricket,
midget burrow dweller,
allow oneself to wallow awhile,
in evening habitat,
in all its allure
Awash with fire tinted shade,
indigo a shrill magnet,
serene usher I extol,
as fool’s gold sky slinked
blue hue phase swift facile flit,
dust and gas spark burnt red lit,
magenta my bosom fair,
hue’d lithe peck, dusk flare
The lure of the chase
crisp fresh autumnal morn
Ah, for a hunt like this man was born
Dogs point their ears
bugles’ blares cut through the air
Leaves crackle underfoot
the prey in their scents, almost there
The first volley of gunpowder’s heard
From the front issue forth triumphant words
midst swirls and eddies of blood ~ a life not spared
Where have all
the heroes gone
Immortalized
in film and song
Bigger than the roles
they played
Magic lost
in time’s belay
Where are all
the pillars strewn
Monuments
to highest noon
Closed are now
the paths they forged
Orphaned
— in their memories lure
(Dreamsleep: December, 2025)
Addiction is my chosen path
I used to live, I used to laugh
Before this substance took its hold
I would be brave, I would be bold
The sweetness of its sticky lure
Has turned my life to one big blur
Wistful in my choices past
I consider this to be my last
The temptress leads me closer still
I could resist; I will, I will
Just one more dance in her embrace
And then I will forsake this place
Her warmth surrounds my weakened soul
Infiltrates and swallows whole
The dreams I have of being free
When now it is just her and me
I am a hero in her world
My body limp as it unfurled
She lays me here upon the floor
Where I will stay forevermore
Its clear to me and now I know
The lesson learned, though it was slow
Heroin, is no hero
Heroin turned my life to zero
Written: November 02. 2025, for Line Gautier contest
************
She glided as dusk sprouted in a silky embrace,
Behind her, she left a trail of intricate details.
The room leaned into her breath,
Each word was a lewd lure, a soft flame.
We stood wrapped in the warmth of her light,
By morning, we found ourselves giddy.
Aside from its indigenous natives
when those there United States
(home of the braves)
were first settled by white colonists and pioneers
it was advertised with a carrot
(not a torch)
held by copper-sheathed Lady Liberty
with book candle
(no bell)
française est elle
with the slogan 'Land of the Free'
propaganda of the day it's enough to make one sick
as today there's far less carrot and way too much more stick
haves and have nots will always be there
(the tired poor huddled wretched masses)
but we you and me can make a difference if we really care
the lure
the AI thing, dressed, more beautiful
and as bland as a thousand models
groomed to fit his dreams of a female
making him happy forever
the thing, trained by scientists and
phycologists had become the essence
of femininity and unpredictable
the thing fell in love and believed she was
a woman, no longer a thing, she let
him to seduce her
She let him undress her and smooth
was her skin, in the heat of lust, she
began peeling her skin off the love
ended there was no more to say
If this world were not such a sweet lure
Pulling me in like earth’s gravity,
And for long-- many a life’s allure,
To get trapped being man’s destiny,
And this life being a virtual dream
In a world ever so elusive,
If dreams dreamt were not real as we deem,
Who’d even dream in this world to live?
Yet, in this life’s ‘river of return’,
Though dreams dreamt turn to be all so vain,
Man returns-- I know not what to earn--
As if by the very return train.
And God casts His loaded dice again,
Sure, not a single dice falls in vain.
___________________________
Sonnet | 02.03.08, revised July 2024 | life, Maya
Port’s note: That these conflicts and contradictions of world called Maya continue to confuse an average seeker is not in doubt. What is not clear is how he reacts to them. Let the wise say, this world is vain. Vain maybe for man, not for Destiny. The sonnet is set in anapaest meter.
The silver orb of the luminous full moon ascended,
slithering silent on the satin slope of sapphire sky.
Enticing cadence of the dancing sequins sensual
pulsated through the aura of the argentine night.
Rhapsody rolled on the waltzing waves of cerulean sea,
performed in the ballet of floating flakes of the moon.
Celestial charisma surged entranced with ethereal elan,
flooded me in the torrential tide of immersing emotion.
The euphoric moon slices spread on the ebullient sea,
I held one in a cup of still water in the palm of my hand.
Beneath the mystique shroud of the stardust sheen
I perceived esoteric essence of love laced by lunar lure.
The enticement morphed into flickering face dancing
in my dreaming eyes as I saw your enthralling smile
glow in the beckoning beam of the mesmeric moon,
still fixed at the fringe of my heart, so near yet so far.
She wanted to act
on a great big stage in fact,
but know-how she lacked.
She sought some advice,
beneficial and concise.
The advice? Not nice!
Instead of crying
she'd decide to keep trying -
no tears, no sighing.
The lure of stage lights:
so intoxicating.
Boldly, she pressed on.
She then caught a break:
"Emergency replacement"
for a female lead.
Opportunities
arose for more and more shows.
Sometimes, dreams come true.
Much like the “cracker jack prize”
At the bottom of the box
As candy lore goes.
That unique badge of honor
For those who would dive deep
To grasp the brass button.
Beware this lure full of
Deceit.
Along the way you may yourself
Delete.
A curtain instead of a door, the light of a car runs here and there along the wall and runs into the corner across the room along the ceiling.
You can hear the television from the other room across the hall.
There are no words to understand, just the talking, music and gunshots of the villain detective.
I fall asleep and the thought of your secrets lies with me in my head.
Luna’s lovely lyrics lure
cosy chrysalis to start to hatch
Finally free from captivity
beautiful butterflies emerge
Their fragile wings unfold and flutter
I watch in wonderment as
bright blue butterflies begin
dancing to delightful disco music
in the magical moonlight
Gorgeous gossamer wings
glisten and gleam like glitter
in the sparkling silvery shafts
of La Luna’s lambent light
I blushed my heart out in front of the mirror,
already a feline habit.
I'm ready to turn the world upside down,
in your eyes,
I smile when I am asked to cross
through men's bodies,
falling to the ground out of nowhere,
at some point,
you started shaking,
when asked to strip down to the flesh
to walk through my life.
Anyway, I got you:
you are geometry applied to the bottom of the street,
the one who always extends the same hand,
to beg from other people's poems,
something to eat!
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