Monoliths Poems

FADING LIGHT OF HISTORY

FADING LIGHT OF HISTORY* 
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Mysterious monuments,
magnificent monoliths,
ancient ruins 
capture our imagination.

Wandering through them,  
we become seekers,
finding mystery and beauty
in the decay.

The air surrounding them
thick with the scent of history.
forces us to tread lightly, 
our hearts attuned to whispers of the past. 

We wander purposively,
sifting through the grains of time
listening to the ruins speak
of the fading light of history. 


*Note:Poem written for and submitted to Creative Ramblings weekly prompt in response to the picture below. 
“The Monumental Arch, also called the Arch of Triumph or the Arch of Septimius Severus, was an ornamental archway in Palmyra, Syria. It was built in the 3rd century during the reign of Emperor Septimius Severus. Its ruins later became one of the main attractions of Palmyra until it was officially destroyed by ISIS in 2015. Most of its stonework survived, and there are plans to rebuild it.”(Cendrine Marrouat)

Amidst illusions of eternity, do they fear death or the loss of vanity

Amidst illusions of eternity, do they fear death or the loss of vanity,
walking through existence, raising fragile monoliths of silent legacy,
believing their names will echo through the ages, as if permanence were a gift,
not a delusion woven from desires, a dream lost under a bitter sky.
But history erodes with precision, turning emperors into mere footnotes,
changing scholars into misattributed quotes, shadows lost in the night,
if even the architects of civilizations succumb to silent oblivion,
why would they assume exemption, when time steals everything and erases all?
Do they fear death, or the realization that they were never essential,
that they are but echoes in the shadow of eternity, whispers lost in a forgotten tale,
facing the truth that we are all fleeting, like leaves in the foreign wind,
that the need to matter becomes a whisper of powerlessness, a dream at the dawn of destiny.

The Ninth Wife

      Greedy vine spirals smother monoliths 
      Spider fern moss, fairy forest vertical
      Soaks in secrets, promise admonished


      Water trawled crevice, creek cervical
      Church canopy arch angel honours 
      Wing finger cool fires praise prancing 
      Laser selects sections, bark polished
      Licked by flitting demure madonnas

      
     Eight afore taped to trees keen tropical 
     Each fresh capes the chapel innocent 
     Suckers strung hearts hung over tendrils 


     Hundred year hardness rots, wet spent
     Mighty trunk rips open room charcoal 
     Doorway discloses disaster clandestine 
     Bluebeard’s bride wives winding sparkle
     Shon hopeful on nymph number nine




              3rd of July 
         Daintree Dancing

The Last Stag

He ventured from
 the wooded square acred forest that remained
  in search of food and a companion or two,
there was neither;
 down along the rows of $600, 000 homes,
  5000 square foot monoliths for two and a child
fenced in against the surrounding world,
 traveling along, alone on  a desolate
  macadam paved roads
and the concrete stepping stones
 that ached 
  in the touch on his swollen hooves;
it was the three o'clock hour
 the darkness surrounding the early morning hours,
  no traffic sounded on the pavement,
he stepped cautiously listening
 straining to reach the other side
  as the car reared its fender against him
it raced away pushing him to the curb
 where he lay slowly dying
  stretching his life into extinction
lost to the progress of mankind.

Spider Plant Verse 4

Shells on the beach after a rain.
Carved monoliths.

NB: Inspired by Suzanne Delaney’s contest and subsequent blog (3-29-2023). This form arose from the oral tradition of “call and response.” In the rhythm of their work and perhaps in the spirit of a game or to relieve boredom, people would call out to each other. The first speaker called out a line that contained an image. A second speaker replied using a second image. This second image was meant to function as an elaboration or metaphor of the first. No titles, no particular rhyme or syllabic scheme.

Neighborhood Images

Bricks build up
monoliths in a dead
and brown yard

The rusted tower climbs
high to cast shadows
on the cold, forgotten earth

And the windchimes laugh
sweetly as the zephyrs
tickle their silver bellies

Black Holes, Monoliths, and Other Space Debris

Could you be serious for one minute? She asked.
Like the Dog Star? I quipped.
Radiant I glowed, and in the moment, basked;
Inexplicably, the next, I tripped.

Circle of Heights

Stonehenges standing like Guardians
Monoliths walk and talk like Plebians

Red Winter Roses

My arbored vines were frozen since mid-December.
The seasonal chill, no one is able to tame,
but my red winter roses, planted in September,
have profusely budded and their blooms are aflame.
Radiantly colored, their beauty wins acclaim.

Protected from the wind by a stand of bamboo,
they thrive near the garden path along the north wall.
To statuesque height, on slender jade stalks they grew,
rising like green monoliths, towering quite tall...
shielding winter roses from flurries of snowfall.

I observe the view through a frosted window pane.
Tiny snowflake crystals softly tumble aground,
waking childhood memories where emotions reign.
The setting so felicitous that I'm spellbound
watching snowdrifts as they accumulate and mound.

I have the blithe perception of a snow globe scene
in which a little girl leans on her windowsill
eyeing her snowman sparkle with a glossy sheen.
It's a picturesque theater, silent and still.
A milieu causing me to reach for ink and quill.



12/25/2022  
Emile Pinet sponsors...
A Christmas Special Poetry Contest

Desk

The oak desk is a polished surface 
holding-up nothing, reflecting nothing
not even a base of anything.

Once it was an upheaval of random displacements 
of elbows and eyes.
E-mails wriggled like worms in wet ground.
Fragments tap danced on hurried fingertips.

The desk grew paper towers
some spoke, others were silent monoliths.
Coffee splashed over keys that opened up
a world no one ever saw from any window.

A lapdog now chatters between belly and knees,
it wags words, pulls them out of muddy puddles
bedraggled and yelping.

The desk needs a vase, maybe a rose in a tulip glass,
what it actually has 
is a lot of bundled-up ghosts polished into invisibility.

Just Over the Hill

And then I seen it, whilst looking down from a high 
                A peaceful uniform land, where residents don’t cry
                     Equal to all, perhaps finely embellished with love
                          Diagonal lines appear, as I descend from above 

             People stand about randomly, in a mysterious world 
                As this endless field of monoliths, now slowly unfurls
                    Only place where nobody, yet everybody gets along 
                        It’s not utopia, but could well be, when we’re gone 


A BRIAN STRAND PREMIERE CHOICE 
Sponsored by Brian Strand
06/01/22

I Still Have Not Forgiven Those Who Have Wronged Me

Word to my worst enemy
Even when the songbirds pray
Over the eulogies, given by faceless ignorant monoliths
All your unused stilettos and unfinished machinations locked away in a mahogany box, never to be shown to the world, the wide world still acting and pretending to long for just one more moment of your existence, i will still laugh ?? in the most haughty 
and flairogant flashion as i did when you told me that you were actually my worst enemy.
Tis more thrilling and less tedious to engage battle with a butterfly than thou.

Mysterious Monoliths

In the remote landscapes
stand cold monolithic monuments,
one, the Neolithic Stonehenge,
the British cultural icon,
and the other, Georgia Guidestones,
the American Stonehenge.

The stone slabs roughly cut
and astronomically aligned,
are set in geometric pattern,
shrouded in mystery,
wrapped in controversy,
incite interest and curiosity.

The Stonehenge marks the burial site
or prehistoric religious healing place,
erected as the conceptual symbol
of peace and unity.

The Georgia Guidestones are possible guide 
to the age of reason,
depicting the concept to rebuild
devastated civilization after apocalypse.

The builders of these enigmatic structures
are hidden in the realm of anonymity,
yet visible in their work of art 
their concern for the humanity. 

November 27, 2021
Contest : Georgehenge Stone Cold Minds Reflect
Sponsor : Joe Maverick

Metropolis Iii of Iii

Run in time to the rhythm
and rage of the metronome grace.
Masses match, I see her fall in time.
Framed in thoughts of rain. 
Down she tumbles down 
her face frozen in the hall, 
I see it all As the shadows wash in. 
I feel my fury bury deep 
In a nation of dreams broken
In a sea of stone towers. 
Fueled by Mechanical Beasts.
Gilded in ancient chrome. 
I wage my inner souls gold and rage 
to heavens realm to ask why. 
I shake the foundations of an artificial iron hell
And cry why, I see this clear 
As the world blurs 
Ask the lighting rods to heaven race.
My gaze scans across 
This sacred power I bleed I quietly plead with
theses monstrosities
I reach and dream as something turns in this city heart
Souls oiled black mechanical parts 
Cold is this artificial light
A thorn pricking my tender optics 
Burn with faded images of her
I stand and see these monoliths 
looming in deep shadowed gloom
I feel the cold of the obelisk 
I feel the 
thump 
and hmmm
Of
   This 
         METROPOLIS!



END

Piles of Stones

To be brutally honest, I am not inclined to be impressed
With the prehistoric pile of stones on Salisbury Plain, Wilshire
During four trips to England, I did not go to see the rocks.
I have driven through Georgia many times, let me explain,
But I have never been through Elbert County where I am told
Eight modern monoliths have been erected with ten “guidelines.”
I suspect they were constructed to attract tourists near and far
When it comes to visiting these places, I have better things to do.
I’ve no time to ruminate on the what’s and why's of these rocks…
Old or new…they present, for me, nothing remarkable I’m afraid
Although for some folks I can see why they are points of interest,
I hear that both sites are now suffering from benign neglect.

NINTH PLACE WINNER
written September 30, 2021
especially for "Georghenge Stone Cold Mind" poetry contest
sponsored by Joe Maverick

• Short Monoliths Poems
• Famous Monoliths Poems
• Best Monoliths Poems
• Read Monoliths Poems
• Long Monoliths Poems
• Monoliths Quotes