Malachite Poems | Examples

A Fly Taught Me to Fly

It came like a whisper
on wings too dirty for angels,
a fly with no gospel—
just bloodlust and fire.
I don’t remember the bite—
only the stories they told me—
the brain-boil, the silence
of a body already leaving, 
the baby too lethargic 
to be called alive,
and the ice-water baths.

Above the crib, they hovered—
not angels, not flies,
but entities without names,
bodiless heads darkling the air
and gazing at me
through fever, muscle and bone
like they were trying
to decide if I’d stay.
They didn’t speak.
They didn’t need to.

Then light fractured like crystal—
a thousand shards of purple fire
and malachite rain
and respiring walls.
My hands were wings,
or roots, or stars.
Sound became color,
and color became taste—
I drank something blue
and forgot my name.

I didn’t return unchanged.
I still taste color in silence,
but boundaries are smudged
between thought and sky,
betwixt dream and doorframe,
and now I write letters 
from the borderlands
because a fly taught me to fly,
and every shadow since
has hidden wings.

Chicken Splash

The charcoal clouds melt in the scorched sky,
serenading summer drizzle descends  
with the fascinating flotilla in the arid air.

The spectrum of the setting scarlet sun
sparkles in the slant spray of the raindrops,
soaking the singed malachite meadow,
as pristine petrichor exudes in amber ambiance. 

The raindrops cascade in soft musical torrent
in the misty puddle, spreading in my pasture.
I feel the nostalgic delight of my youth return. 

The little pool morphs into glistening ballroom floor
for the aquatic ballet of the rolling rills.
I hear the silent symphony of the melodic past 
in the rhythm of the raindrop dance.

From the barnyard comes a hopping fawn bird,
with spread-out wings flapping in the drizzle
the chicken squawks the tune of waltz for me.

So, I join her doing the feathered twirl,
spinning around together with slippery slide.
I tap my toes as she splatters the muddy water,
bringing back my younger days of joyful chicken splash.

Hiku

r a
      p i
          d s in malachite woods
blue b ur  s ts  c l e a v e d rocks~   
glaze g 
             l
                 i
                     d
                         e
                             s   on gravel

Autumn Scene

Climbing cotton clouds float away 
across canvas of summer sky. 
Birds bathe in blue bay, 
to amber nest they fly.
Autumn comes with golden spray. 
 
Sunburst horizon’s chromatic drape drawn, 
splits sunbeam in spectral splendor.
Sky spills colors of dawn, 
air sways cinnamon grass slender
in malachite meadow, turning fawn. 

The crown of topaz dew 
shines with morn’s opaline glow. 
Draping cinnabar garden with hue  
sepia trees grip ground fallow,
leaves echo fall’s footfall new.

Angelic Love

The seeds of love I sow in my malachite meadow   
Enthralled, they sprout with the emerald shine bright
Design the cradle of saplings for the rose buds to glow
Nascent sunburst sky paints my dulcet dawn of delight          
Transfixes the dew diadem on jade grass in pearly show
Shaping my dreams where as an angel I see you alight

Celtic Daydream

There was an old man who marched in Dublin,
danced to malachite past, wore shammocks lean.
            Guinness stout in clinking glass
            he drank whole night en masse.
Through the day he dreamed Celtic dreams umpteen.

Embrace Of Faded Memory

In the frozen air and frost gripping the malachite meadow
within the mystique mask of the arctic dawn,
defoliated lone tree wrapped by dismal melancholy,
stands static as shadowless sentinel of dormant dreams.

From the melted chilling clasp of the glacial desire I rise,
the heartening rhythm of the serenading heart I hear,
the music of love resonates with the symphony of ardor.  
I glide in its cadence, soaring in the beguiling bowl of blue.

In the lonesome bouquet laced with the reverie of love 
lies embedded the frozen fragrance of remote reminiscence,
enticing the defrosted solitary soul to reflect sunshine someday, 
hold the faded lattice of mesmeric memory in warm embrace.

Lacustrine Opera

In bejeweled jade landscape
the topaz terrain rolls
as wondrous waves,  
undulates with
sculpted panorama 
of captivating cadence,
entrenches in earthen frame
the sprawling shape 
of a placid lake,
sublimely sparkling,
the shining sapphire face 
looking up entranced
toward the cerulean sky,
spread serene on
boundless blankness.

The southern zephyr
whispers enticing melody
to the rhapsodic ripples,
rolling aquatic rhythm, 
intensely passionate,
stretching in seraphic span  
of self-centric array,
sliding on slithering shadows 
of the dancing trees,
lining the contorted contours
of the splashing shore,
emerald adorned.

Malachite lotus leaves 
float flamboyant
with pulsating fervor,
the ruby flush 
of full bloom
makes the collage 
of fiery fresco
with fanning feathers 
of flaming flamingos,
their ballerina legs wading
the lazuline waters 
in avian grace,
supple napes swiveling
in charismatic concerto 
of aquatic ballet,
rapturous recital
performed unruffled
in hypnotic gleam
of the setting sun,
chromatic spectrum
composes the sonata 
for lacustrine opera.

Raindrop Dance

Charcoal cloud melts in the scorched sky,
summer drizzle descends serenading 
with the fascinating flotilla in arid air.
The spectrum of the setting scarlet sun
sparkles in the slant splash of the raindrops,
soaking the singed malachite meadow,
pristine petrichor exudes in amber ambiance. 

In the moistened crack of the desiccated soil
sprouts an olivine sapling after a long while,
spreads the tender emerald leaves,
cradling the unfurling buds, 
swaying in breeze with the radiant raindrops,
turning into pearls, reflecting the rainbow hues.
 
The raindrops cascade in soft musical torrent
on the misty pane of my dripping window,
bring back the nostalgic joy of the lost youth  
to morph into meandering rows
in the ballet of the waltzing rills.
I hear the silent symphony of melodic youth 
in the rhythm of the raindrop dance.

Charismatic Concerto

In bejeweled jade landscape
the topaz terrain rolls
on wondrous waves,  
undulating with
the sculpted panorama 
of pristine cadence,
entrenches in earthen frame
the sprawling shape 
of a serene lake
sublimely sparkling,
the sapphire shining face 
looks up
toward the cerulean sky,
entranced.

The southern zephyr
whispers enticing melody
to the rhapsodic ripples
intensely passionate,
spread in seraphic span  
of self-centric rhythm,
slide on slithering shadows 
of the dancing trees,
lining the contorted contours
of the splashing shore,
adorned.

Malachite lotus leaves 
float flamboyant
with pulsating fervor,
the ruby flush of full bloom
makes the collage 
of fiery fresco
with fanning feathers 
of flaming flamingos,
their ballerina legs wading
the emerald waters 
in avian grace,
supple napes swiveling
in charismatic concerto 
of aquatic ballet,
surreal.

In the hypnotic gleam 
of the setting sun
I watch the lacustrine opera.

Seraphic Scene Extant

The long journey 
of the slithering stream 
on the languid lap 
of pensive plateau,
meandering montage
in ebony melancholy
of forlorn forest,  
flows on contorted contours 
of languishing leaned land 
at cataracts askew. 
The vibrant visage 
of fantasy flight 
of fluidized swan feather,
serenading in monotone, 
resonates in the silence 
of verdant emerald, 
the tune of tranquil time 
ripples with the echo 
of ethereal euphoria. 

The aquatic flow 
of fizzy champagne surge,
dancing with the cadence 
of esoteric ecstasy 
in sculpted split course
around obdurate boulders, 
deposed defiant
with mesmeric malachite glow, 
amidst patina of plants, 
drenched by the drizzle 
of the setting scarlet sun
in the sequined sky, 
illumines the mystique mist 
of diaphanous drape, 
rising slow
as suspended strata,
unlayered exaltation
lifts the shroud of sorrow 
from the austere alcove 
of my amorphous anguish,
makes me revere
the seraphic scene,
the effervescent extant,
timeless…

verdent gemstones

Malachite is the loveliest color
As is emerald, May’s birthstone
Chrysoprase makes my heart feel happy
There are so many verdant gems
They all reflect money, revitalization and new beginnings
When people wear them, I feel the vibrations in the room rise

Passion

The serenading stream leaps in swirling rapture
on the dancing shadows of the swaying trees.
The diamond dew drops draping the glinted grass 
put lilting latticed diadem on the malachite meadow.
The drizzling moon dust from the sequined sky
embellishes the pearlescent waves of the rolling sea.
In all these I look enthused for my muse.

Up above the majestic mountain’s sliding slopes
waits the sun-soaked summit of ecstasy to be scaled.
Down the verdant valley’s slithering spine 
cascades sapphire stream to the picturesque plains. 
The rain-washed sky spreads the tapestry of dreams 
of chromatic imagery on the rainbow-arched horizon. 
In all these I seek out fervently for my muse.

The scarlet sun rises with the grandeur of crystal dawn,
lifts the musk of miasma from the depth of despair.
The wind of imagination blows in mystique mindscape,
raises from dust the flecks of dormant feelings,
wafting in the surging storm of inventive impulse,
on its wings I fly inspired in the fantasy firmament. 
That’s when my passion makes me a poet.

Should Malachite Bemoan

Should malachite bemoan
The diamond's luster
When the diamond could
Envy malachite's color?
Does the pearl cite
A greater metamorphosis
Than that of hematite
Though both be lustrous?

I Wait

Drenched in the glow of sunburst scarlet sky
verdant vale veers at the foot of jade hills, 
on gentle slope fawn leaves rustle with sigh,
wafts in the wind to the stream in its rills.

It sketches leaping silver water line
on rocks carving the course of nature’s art,
lucid in lattice of pebbles, some shine
bright, some drape with malachite moss their heart.

Walking long on contours of crystal stream,
of emerald plain’s scene I’ve not lost sight,
see from lilac sky descends golden gleam
of twilight as I watch the fall of night.

I wait for dawn to find me in your eye,
as the whispering breeze passes me by.

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