The sparring mind requires a venue fit
for wide ambition’s pointed blade—the craze
of poignant poetry’s unbridled wit.—
Masked)by the wily writer’s wire-meshed gaze,
the soul unleashes on the stage of writ
a flurry of pen strokes, a wanton blaze
of mangled meanings, aiming now to split—
—to split the atmosphere in half…for praise!
Ah—perhaps, in this contest of our wills,
I do not joust against “you”,—just with “I“;
so the looming question mark lurks near: “Why?”
Simply for the thrills! merely for the frills?
Thus, muses Nietzsche, the great unveiler,
“Bist du echt? oder nur ein Schauspieler?…”
Feet glued to your welcome mat,
our fingers meshed like Velcro
and pieces of our shattered hearts
haphazardly taped together;
my tears and your fidgeting
weaken the adhesive,
yet, we do not—
can not—
move.
In season, sonnets often find their bloom
by trailing lesser forms towards the light;
a patient wait’s reward is greater room,
and thus they are content to just sit tight.
But once a way appears, they make their move
and quickly seize the opportunity.
Iambs, awkward at first, begin to groove
and make connections naked eyes scarce see.
Then bursting forth, the buds now put on flesh,
give weight to what was formerly a hint.
With careful pruning, parts are truly meshed,
can best express their purposeful intent.
When poets cultivate a love’s pursuit,
the sonnet bears the sweetest of the fruit.
THE BRIDEGROOM COMETH
‘Twas ten virgins of willing heart
That went with joy and merry soul
To meet the groom with loving mirth
That the union will make them whole
But behold they were torn in twain
A part thereof was meshed in sloth
While the other set for the rain
So in due time they shall move forth
Now these twin parts do here allude
The minds of mankind in this world;
While part in vanity abide
The other in Spirit are walled
And so when the trumpet did sound
The one in sloth abide strayed yet
They in Spirit holding their ground
Answered the call of the trumpet.
--- Victorious Vincent 120018122011.
Sing songs muses muse blueberry pies
Sung blues one day the muse all died
Hail the stars that distance hath grace
Earth star hath turned anew took place
Traverse the constantly cached stars
Beast unburdened braves of past scars
Trident had Kraken divide her in half
Great made small sat back and laughed
Harp corraled midst meshed verged
Luna slumbers sourced piece emerged
Hearken the heralds the angelic sing
Universal timing presence peace bring
Such folly be told of that kind of talk
Can a massive own a minute tick-tock
What meaning exists for the colossal
Infinite stretch from the number zero
I opened my eyes
and there I was
sitting on a clear white sandy beach
I began to take note of my colorful
surroundings
My eyes carefully wandered
until they rested upon the beautiful sight
of the clear mass of salted water
My ears were consumed by the gushing sounds
of its crystal-like waves
My nose deeply inhaled its sea-weed aura
of the underwater world
My mind was at ease and my heart was fulfilled
as I closed my eyes once again
There I became one with my natural surroundings
meshed with the exotic sights
pleasant sounds
and a rich aroma
each experience reminding me
of the simplicities of life
A Germanic Language
Second most spoken in the world
Angles
Saxons
Jutes
From Angles were Engles
Whose language was Englisc
Thus from Europe
ENGLISH was born!
Traveling through inscriptions
Alphabets
Borrowed words
In Norms
In French
Named Old English
Middle English
Modern English
And now with many
Descendants
English in the Pacific
by whaling ships and colonizers
Official language of the islands
Meshed with island vocabulary
English has become a legend in our vocabulary
He wished to teach them
To flap harder in thin air
To learn the tricks to rest,
To eat, to know when to
Start the flight, when to
Return and the route map
Mother wished to teach them
To call, to breathe more
Deeply and ways to save
Energy as they flew such
Dizzy altitudes in freezing
Cold & not to be blown away
As they looked up at meshed sky,
Yesterday’s wishes rolled
Down the cheeks of a
Monogamous pair of
Bar-headed goose
Breeding in captivity
Why fly high?
Going between realms
My heart on a shelf
Surrounded by stones
Never alone
Going between realms
arguing with myself
turning heaven into hell
Going between realms
Recreating what I felt
Love is wealth
Meshed realities melt
Thoughts profound
Creating these realms
Diminishing time
Being alive
Intention is NOW
In ALL of the realms
Being aware
Back-seated fear
Listen and hear
Unity appears
In NOW realm
We don't fight for the wheel
We go with the flow
Universally steered
Surrender
Surrender to all am and all I’m not
All the memories and those I forgot
Surrender to where I am and the void
Places of beauty and the cruelly despoiled
Surrender to the pace of time and infinity
Moments of peace and those of morbidity
Surrender the mind and the heart
Love, laughter and the mindless blart
Surrender the soul and corrupt flesh
Angel and demon together meshed
Surrender the awareness and the ego
Dreams and chains, we let go
By Cathrin Stuart
ENGRAVISTA
en relief
intaglio planar
grounded
spur-like aquinted
grained
messaging
of defined
contour
en register
meshed
toothed
burnished
etched
dry painted
playground
in stippled
precision
stopped out
imperious
masks
dense& painterly
serigraphs
Imagination
When I was young
just a bright eyed child
Magic meshed with imagination
Both mystical and wild
Fairytale kingdoms
Colourful real
The grey world outside me
Held such little appeal
I rode metallic moonbeams,
Lassoed shooting stars
Collected turquoise oceans
in my mason jars
My best friend was a monkey
King Bongo ruled my toys
Although small in stature
I was somehow more than other boys
Nothing seemed impossible
I travelled at the speed of thought
Everything wasn’t what it was
And some things were what they were not
I rushed to grow up
Yes it’s true
It seems boys often do
Still my friend I have a secret
I might have kept from you
When I close my eyes
Imagination reappears
I travel back to yesterday
and all those years they disappear.
“The foxes have holes, and the birds flying about have nests, but the Son of Man has no home of his own.”
---- Matthew 8:20
~~~~~~~~~~~~
Never far from a home in his head,
yet upon a dark day
- he strayed.
He spied a better home in her eyes,
they had the shape of heaven,
but they were so far away from him.
They made a coffee date.
Over steaming cups
their fingers meshed like gears.
Of a sudden
he was thrown from a window,
a window in his mind.
For an awkward instant
he was homeless.
His thoughts ran to her,
but by then
her eyes had begun to wander,
to admire the handsome barista.
Like a small, abandoned child,
distressed, he looked about him,
yet there was no home
in that world he then perceived,
for the foxes and birds
had got there first.
It was never my intent to collect the creepy crawlers
but I couldn't make myself swat them with a broom.
I thought they might be useful one day, on brawlers
who make trouble, like aphids on roses in bloom.
So, the meshed bag became the receptacle I used
to keep them alive. One by one, I joined them together
but fed them daily. Of spider abuse I'd not be accused!
I watched them interact in the prison tied with a tether.
There was no fighting among them when there were three
Respectfully, they kept their distance in separate corners
even when I threw in a fly, a moth and a tiny dead flea.
I wondered if they died, would there have been mourners?
It seems arachnids could teach humans a lesson in humanity
When my bag began to move on its own, I knew it was time
to set them free. You may question my sanity and the inanity
of releasing the creatures but keeping them would be a crime.
Where would they best be turned loose in one fell swoop?
The rose garden! Infested with pests on which they'd feast!
I opened the bag carefully and they marched as a troop,
conquering heroes of the Rose War, each bug eyed beast!
Attracted to his accent and his lean physique,
he followed her home when they met on that street.
She didn't know his name but it didn't really matter.
Those large brown eyes couldn't look any sadder.
He spoke in short calculated phrases.
Their warm bodies meshed in the dance of the ages..
There are times when words aren't really needed when the
pull of passion is so heated..
Sub Categories
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.