Winter
Black cloud enshroud blue horizon while migrating birds tweet their last goodbye
Arctic winds weigh down bare naked branches watching blinding storms streak by
Above forsaken lodge tower sequoias like sentinels safeguarding an empty citadel
Hungry bison scrapes damp earth for green grass then uncovers a nourishing well
Immaculate summits shed kaleidoscopic colors pondering the splendor of next fall
Snowflake encrusted serpentine rivers inside the path of an imminent frigid squall
Taking agile steps shivering wolves defend lives at stake to outfox predacious gun
Aging leaves tumble toward battered ground envying the sky waiting for the sun
Penned:
01/10/2018
12:37 P.M.
West Palm Beach, Florida
Everyone has a deep secret,
Followed by consequential dark pasts,
Hidden in the line of force,
Unfazed by the parallelism of cream of society (Beau monde);
Hidden under the mask of loyalty,
Fingers flipping between the pages of reality and virtuous figure,
Strong magnetic force smashing the objects of high tensile strength,
With a mere fear or force of God ?
Dazzling flame of light sparks the truth with high intensity,
Yet there are variants of this,
But do you believe in more powerful force in this universe other than what is already present ?
David sang of Deliverance
Blessed in God's mercy
We sing of forgiveness
Great is God's Love
Our sins washed away
Transgressions out of sight
Humans love disobedience too
You know us inwardly
Yet Grace is available
When we turn away
From sins besetting humanity
morning has broken broken dreams in the cold light of day
________________________________________________________
POET'S NOTES
With her monoku, Marlene 'Mountain' Morelock Wills (1939–2018), challenged the idea that haiku must consist of two juxtaposed images. I explore parallelism as a possible poetic device in this monoku, as well as a form of internal rhyme.
Besides the obvious meaning of "broken" (to break), "morning is broken" is an example of a contronym:
Now, as an adult, I realize that the use of “broken” in the expression “Morning has broken” is most closely related to breaking through a barrier, out of a throng, or through a surface. In fact, Merriam-Webster clusters it there: “to come into being by…bursting forth.”
PASSING NOTES: Morning Has Broken, by Christina M. Bentley October 9, 2017.
Recapitulating
(Embryonic Parallelism)
While wondering and then continually waiting,
My mind was manipulating and recapitulating;
Had looked around;
Fingers were found;
To play piano really do need more educating.
Jim Horn
There's a place far away
That's the one that you love
You look at the greens and purples
Some of us will get freckles
There's a place far away
It's so full filling you are brave
There you see your walkside
As you walk up
The more lovely you behave
You see the parallelism you are breathless
Out of mind
Restless.
Faithfull
Mind powerful
You see the deep excess ,you are the access
To the new raise of awareness .
It returns to haunt,
the dilemma, of disowning
the old version of truth;
when I was searching the parallelism
for the sake of otherness.
The unreturning melancholia,
brings the surreal intruder,
I did not want to entertain.
The insane activity of heart
wants a sin uncommitted.
The flirt eyes like a tulip
between your fingers,
unrolling the tender petals.
Night throws the salt on the moon.
There were no tears.
Satish Verma
The eerie moon’s soul is on fire
In the eye of storm is burning desire
Parallelism of abyss to base is thought that will inspire
And this is a depth of her heart for which the heart I admire
The depth like true abyss
The heart is gift of bliss
Energy surges from her kiss
Her voice is like a ballad that of nightingale song will reminisce
The beauty is sublime
More than I can say with any rhyme
However it is the heart that is more important than beauty in any time
And her divine heart is her prime
Yet parallel to base that thought of it or not abyss is the same
The most powerful eternal flame
In her heart burns alike flame
And my love for her is the same
beheaded blame is constant
love is a crushed, ornamentated adjective to you
yet and still i am under you submissive to your rhythmic therapy
there was a time when i was a thorn searching for a bush
nowadays i am an earthworm looking to be part of a footprint in a neglected garden
yet and still i drink the flavored saliva of your passionate persona
i am proud to be a thief stealing snowflakes of happiness from honest presentations of bliss
i become a dense dunce cutting my finger at the point of the cap that causes migraines
yet and still i lick up the majestic masterpiece disguised as a brilliant secret in continuous bloom
fruitless flagellation performs as parallelism
forever is an interrogative interest descending to you
yet and still i manage to lie to myself and call myself stable, strong and able
Be an eagle and fly
Never let yourself be held back
Soar high
Keeping to the track
As higher you fly
Be blind to unjust antagonism
With it be on a level of parallelism
Soar high above the cloud
For you are success bound.
Euclid's Fifth
i. In Motion
It was your pale glance, like a
frame frozen for a second and then
unfreezes, the cold moist from
melting, biting my thoughts of
breaking into your ice-walled
dullness. Tonight the frigid span
of time, muteness, between the
divorce of time and space, thaws
folds and creases of the ice-cold
pause of a scene. While like a
half-frozen mime reflected from a
broken reel, scratchy, fallacious
and recurring, creeps upon its
numbed screen, my rigid,
frostbitten flesh.
ii. On Parallelism
Suckled in the wounds of regret,
better that all these fruits fall, the
green ones no more, bitter
to taste, unripened and dictated to
full, proving you are closest to me,
better that all these fruits fall, than
to pluck them, flick through under
tremulous limbs, with glimpse, with
crave quickening each pauses, I'll
point at them falling, slow and one
at a time.
It has been stated that on judgment day
We may be given not the shape of diamonds,
But of bones.
Plausible now, more than before
In our last days we shall infuse as one
(To mirror the imagism of each other),
Yet display no parallelism
Could that be why we were
Disgusted by daring faces,
Yet never revolted?
A battlefield called Megiddo
is where the world will be drawn
How the story ends will be forgotten
and generals will move on
Why Megiddo? The world may ask
And the answer will be simple
Megiddo, is where the enemy is
and there he will build his temple
There are as many stories as there are stars
when they all arrive
But by then the bible will seem
like one single sentence
the common thread woven in their lives
And there the futruity will take place
One single event will engulf
the entire human race
The attempt to interchange the worlds
parallelism with the Word will move
from improbability to impossibility
in the blink of an eye
Of silver strands
Started to grow indeed
In our heads
Of extra ordinary lateral parallelism
Proof of coolness milestones in our lives
Though a rare some and countable sight
We believe we stood grounds
From spic-and-span
Just like our very own grandkids all around
Consider as mushrooms of gold
Yes, we did beautifully and magnificently succeed
On top and taps
A toast
We made it “unlimited of joys”
All the years to come!
ENTERED IN A CONTEST SILVER STRANDS
12/4/11
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