Mantled Poems | Examples

Love of a Rose

Early mornin dew dripp'd flower
Rosy Red awaits the hour
Lifts her bloom and greets the day
To sup the misty mornin rays
She fawns upon the golden hue
Swaddled in the mantled blue
Till sunny orb quits daytime skies
To veil its face from longing eyes
So Rosy Red doth nod her bloom
And bide her time in shadowed gloom
To dream the dreams that only may
Wish anew the break of day

The World At Peace

Soft skies of blue and ivory
Circling the planet of light and ebony

Colored eyes enthralled by the cold of the night
Waving lightning mantled by fright

Winds embracing acquiescent bodies so bleak
Unshielded pillars of the strong, not weak

Grounds bracing the faithful with might
Bounds of serenity awaits so light

From His numen all wonders come in piece
Bodies and souls live and die with peace!

Derma

their nails were rimmed with blue and grey 
a clinical circle was bordering stain
noisily blossoming; smeared by the pain
the indigo purpled and mantled her flay 
a bruising delusional; deafened contusional 
denting and doubling and bubbling inflamed
detriment gently, vain hysterectomy sectioning skin by the strain

derelict centering
feigning and fondling 
further and fairly deveined  
hemophilia setting in 
azure limbs fettering 
murdering pale for her stay 

cracked from a stutter their 
lips turned in color with
blue blooming out of the brain 
drained on the flooring panes 
still and yet subtly 
shivering like it would rain 

granted their status by 
siren with blood in eyes 
poisonous digits dig in 
mild dim underskin 
derma tint muddling
water spills out with a feign

Poetry

Hidden in the midst of lustre eyes,
Craving to be labelled and disentangled,
Such a noble deed and enterprise
Can only by a poet's hand, be mantled.

With a papyrus and a quill
In delight, he basks in poetry.
Such feeling that stirs the soul to squeal
As with shaky hand, babbles away in ecstasy.
                                          © Temajung Michael T.

Christmas Thoughts 2020

Christmas Thoughts 2020 
By: Miracle Man
December 23, 2020

It’s roots, in a distant land, many years ago,
the reason we should celebrate was born in a stable.
Now materialism has mantled our minds like snow,
He came to earth to do, what no other was able.

It’s true, Christmas is a wonderful time of year,
when memories are drawn from our retention.
Much gift shopping and the spreading of cheer,
but the birth of a Savior many hardly mention.

Afternoon With Squirrels and Doves

flight,  good afternoon
a mantled, wild squirrels skips
betrayed by the doves

flipping and flopping
his tail waving so briskly
jumps from branch to branch

dropping nuts on doves
as they so do try to leave
fly away dove fly





2/3/20
Written words  by
James Edward Lee Sr. 2020©

What Lies Between Us

Daybreak arose when night had passed
Lush meadows mantled with drops of dew
Craving, I eagerly broke the morning fast
and eagerly reached my arms out for you

Our hunger sated, but we lingered abed
Once again, we were starving to death
What lies between us are silken threads
of love and whispers with sighing breath

The Sunhive

Glorious golden, wheaten, woven.
The Sunhive hangs, safe and secure, in the cradling arms of the old tree.

Full of syrupy sweetness, strength and wisdom of its small, mantled gold and black, dwellers.

At its warm soft womblike centre the bees, in safety and comfort, prepare their Winter Feast.

In peace and good health their Queen freely roams her golden halls.
A stately progression through her realm.
An empire free from earthbound unnatural cuboid cells.

Safe and sound and high above the ground
The bees happy and content,
Secure our future, selfless and without intent.

Roxanne's Angel

She lay there quiet as the moon, in a sky blue cap filled with golden hair of bright 
and as the stars erased the ebon of the sky, I heard a little whimper plight 
and so I lay her down, nestled in the flowers of my yesterday, and to alleviate   
her grief, I sauntered back and forth,  and whispered in her ear, "its not too late"  

Afraid of climbing up too high, afraid of reaching down too low, she did forgo 
but as I held the mantled door  and sprinkled out some stars , I saw her glow 
"I miss you mom, " she said through tears ,  
softy I did say , " you're not the sum of all your fears"
and so inside her reverie, I placed a bunch of sweet forget me knots 
and by the pillow of her youth, the broken light of a 1000 watts! 

"I am the angel at your door , I'm never far away from you"
"I am the sun that lights your day, and your daily I love you ! "

She lay there quiet as the sun at dawn, subtle as a sleeping fawn
and as she sauntered back and forth I whispered,  ... "I'm not gone " 

From Your Soul Sister, 
Vienna B.

Stars Never Knew the Breadth of My Heartache

I was drawn to her in temporal depth of night,
glancing her way in beams of harvested light
But in mourning her, I wept behind shrouds,
concealed by a hovering bank of sullen clouds

She'd danced for me in a green ruffled gown
Her supple skin changed to russet then brown
How she teased me from the height of her haven
So fetching, she'd aroused the caw of a raven.

Though love was too brief, merely one season,
my ageless vision had been ripened by reason
I watched as she fell prey to a merciless wind
and cursed it in anger as though it had sinned

I'd flail the slayer of my adored one's demise
but I can't bridle the wind, racing through skies
She was stolen from me by another's touch
Stripped from limb and held captive in his clutch

I cried softly when night finally faded away,
forfeited my will and the power to hold sway
My tears mingled with each crystalline snowflake
Stars never knew the breadth of my heartache

A fleecy white blanket has mantled her tree
I'll imagine she's there sleeping, thinking of me
And when in Spring she awakens once more,
from aloft I'll beam at her, rekindling our rapport

Taking It Slow

It might as  well be another late afternoon
when new moon rises, bathed in honeydew 
and gleaming with soft weariness: above,
mantled clouds bleach the lanes with first tinges
of blue-gray light, while figure sways pouring tea 
and mint cheese on park benches, whistling 
strains of linear intervals…intervals where violin
tones tap the breeze for some hint of mellow
hush. This sense of accepting what weighs 
or buoys the tracks of soothing energy 
pushes feet to circle among tumbleweeds,
ready to sink into hours of a genial night:

Like so, throats wheeze the vowels of tender
tunes brushing refrains of charity for some
sprig of warm comfort: after all, how can 
a bursting sun account for the speed of fingers
clutching nicks of time mortal in workrooms,
racing barbed rails of  hours    hours lashed by
the 9 to 6 office grind… and to drop, drift,
dry off the weary body crackling stiff bones …
it’s about time for half-closed eyes to rest
from a dazed world demanding submission;

That is why heaven fashioned nightfall misty.


.............................
Piece De Resistance Contest
Written 5/14/2018    Re-entered 7/18/2018

River's Edge

Our fishing guide thought I wanted to catch fish –
that I had come to the River’s Edge to catch
a mottled Brown for a mantled photograph.

I should have told him that I cared not for a fish
for my father had recently passed away 
and I held his rod of beautiful bamboo.

I had come only to cast into my memory’s mist –
to hear the line sing my father’s song
and again his voice arise from a riffle.

Many mornings he held my hand to teach me
to find the rhythm of the line then extend 
to mirror and become the water.

From a rock, I cast into pocket water
where a Brown watches but then chooses
not to strike the timelessness of the past,
at the river’s edge.

Reanimation Damnation

Quiet is the night, laid blight amid this infernal necropolis
Loosely mantled soil, smother marrow of perished veneration
Yet windows still aflame, a dormant witness to troth thirst
Cold and stiff, until a shift, unearthed

Proboscis

Mr. Brenun Lays Pro--
boscis, a belly flop, said:
"No tax read my lips"
no one could read them at all
coz, both mantled by his nose!


Do not play with Arabian poetics ;)

Miracle of Childhood Regained

MIRACLE OF CHILDHOOD REGAINED



Snow  - my dream  miracle, 
To me has always called, never  cold. 
Serenely reposing, softly refreshing
Like  flowing water over a low  weir. 
Submerging  sharp corners;  edges are softened.
New world, renewed, unspoiled. Pure tabula rasa.  
Long-sought Eden garden emerging
 
From the child-dreams I was forbidden to enter
By the sentries:  teachers, church, ancient granny, 
By cold forces choking  my green growth  -
Dowdy fields, old trees, dirty walls  
Now freshly-baptised to pure brightness;
Factory  dumps, rusted hulks, rows of soulless cellars,
Now mantled white in fairytale shapes from  a Christmas card.

I  feel  small  again in snow,  always did:
Impossible become possible:  childhood regained.

.............................

Other poems of mine, similar to this, are available at
https://www.fictionmagazines.com/magazines/five/

• Short Mantled Poems
• Famous Mantled Poems
• Best Mantled Poems
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