Crystal ball, thy spirit.
Cast thee a mighty spell.
Vision sacred, let's hear it.
Voice of mine, pell-mell.
Tress and trawler, set thy hooks.
River bed to dredge.
Recipes we learned in books?
Formation, wild wedge.
Coal, control, bell toll, sail, soul.
Down the delta wide.
Wasteland, when you set a goal.
Woe, when you betide.
Chicken farm, thy tender.
Politics, tough thy game.
Doubtless, O defender.
Katabothron, quay, claim.
Current, channel. Atmosphere.
Particles, spread out.
Cloud cover, sere or severe?
Cannibal, red rout!
Trickle, stickleback. Code crack.
Fortresses, thy stack.
Under attack? Dinner pack.
Flak ahead? Shellac.
Yawndrift, yucca, yellow eyes.
Oceanic rift.
Circumspect the council's cries?
Petrify, wood. Gift.
Bank, holding of money.
Tornado, spinning fast.
Clown, well, life is funny.
Mead honey, my good ghast?
Phosphorescent planetary
paths petrify prematurely,
Profoundly powerful
photospheres perish
pathetically,
Prominences polarize,
Propagating parabolic
phantom - shadows,
Preterite plasma - bursts
petrify periodically,
Precipitating permanent,
pitch - black primordial -
gloom,
Prototypical pulsars
paradoxically portend post-
stellar doom,
Profound planetary
patriarchs perish perpetually.
There is a name the dusk will keep,
A low, unuttered thing—
It stirs beneath the olive leaves
And will not rise or sing.
Rocco, they said, as if a bell
Had tolled beneath the sea,
And something cold with jeweled eyes
Turned once, and looked at me.
No wind had moved, no branch had sighed,
Yet stillness grew so deep
I felt the world draw in its breath
As though it feared to speak.
Basalisk—O shadowed word,
With fire beneath its skin,
You walk the edges of the heart
And turn all longing thin.
For beauty held too long, they say,
Will harden into stone,
And eyes that dare to love too much
May petrify their own.
So let me pass with lowered gaze
Where quiet mercies lie,
Nor meet the gleam that stills the soul
And teaches it to die.
Yet somewhere in that silent dark
A fragile sorrow wakes—
For even stone remembers once
The shape that love could take.
I am in a stupor
a hypnotic daze
my feet no longer work
they have atrophied
soon my body will be a statue
completely petrified
I can blame no one but myself
my recliner is too comfy
If I told you how many hours I have been sitting
you would laugh, thinking it must be a joke
in deference to truth, I did waddle three times to bathroom
but I have been sitting here since 8 a.m. and it is 5:34 p.m.
I moved myself to the couch twice, thinking I would nap
My puppy jumped up out of a catatonic sleep and licked me both times
so here I sit, turning into a dead turnip next to my happy retriever puppy
A giant road is emerging. My sandy path
is ready to be swallowed. Gambol, amble,
ramble, saunter, stride… My way knows
a variety of my gaits. This is a stamped
path in my gene as an elephant corridor.
It’s open for the rat snakes, mongooses,
cats, and men. When I lose my way, no
one will come to me. The machine claws
won’t shiver when they pluck my black
plum tree on the wayside. My silence
will be deluged by the motor cacophonies.
The hullabaloos will petrify the birds and
my poetry. The tortoise lying on the grass
with its head inside serenity is unaware of
the imminent doom. Already molded
in loss, I can keep up my sangfroid.
First published in The Literary Hatchet (issue 30).
The first prize winning poem in the Poetry Nook Weekly Contest.
The Northern Lights petrify
Leaving stains of color to grated souls.
Foreign thorns entice the sky -
threshing what's left of flesh.
For a season deceiving remains,
jaded petals cover sinister views
~Yet~
Wilted and jagged with pigment stagnant -
Dark; blackened to average -
Decay begins from less fortunate sins.
Charisma lost while miracles fold -
Enigma strikes like pyrite gold -
Within life loss -
An aura with no glow.
Cackles were heard from down under on a hill far away
fifty little saucy spiders scurry helter skelter out to play
A hefty witch stirs her cauldron next to her Bagoon
snake eyes spoon an evil mush as feet dance around the room
Strumpa strumpa crumpetta crumpetta, stomps and rhythms yes they're dead
The stars in heaven grow fangs and the moon wears a skirt of thorns
chainsaw demons flee the sky with decapitated scorn
Oh my oh my Halloween frights are here, although the night is young
old smelly garlic garlands have been strung,
Strumpa strumpa crumpetta crumpetta, stomps and rhythms yes they're dead
She's here to petrify, terrify, horrify and glorify her trade
when they get here they will drink purple blue Kool-aid
Oh Gee Oh Gosh she has lost her pompadour galosh
perhaps its hiding in the pumpkin squash
Strumpa strumpa crumpetta crumpetta, stomps and rhythms yes they're dead.
I need my family, friends, community,
I need to live in a happy home,
‘Though I might seem hard and cold,
I am not made of stone.
For when I am mixing with others,
I’m in my, so-called, happy zone,
‘Though my own company is okay,
I am not made of stone.
I am very much alive you’ll find
And made of flesh and bone,
And not immune to loneliness,
I am not made of stone.
My biggest, biggest fear is
Of ending my final years all alone,
This thought petrifies me for -
I am not made of stone.
All those movie characters
Crying in the shower
Definitely staged
But guess not
Short fits of panic
Fizzing in the steam
My lifelike dreams
Scare me
Waking up
Between dreams
To realize
You were never there to begin with
Never there for me,
When I needed you most
Yet the warmth, the smell
Felt so
Seemed so real
It’s a shame
Your words were somewhat of comfort
And there were bejeweled moments
That I treasured
But they’re all gone now
Can’t go back to what it was before
Those who break my heart
Thrice,
Fivefold,
They are done for
The fantasical school life
The fall festivals
All of my own concoction of
My subconscious
My past
Haunts me
This Halloween
My thoughts
Petrify me
Nostalgia mixed with
Bubbles of
What coulda, shoulda, woulda happened
I pause in my own thoughts
Falling
Are the role models
I’ve looked up to
Where are they now
There are no heroes
Everyone is human
And somehow that is
The most frightening
Somehow hope is lost
My anxiety
Creeping on me
And I am losing it
I am probably losing it
And I just wish to god
Things would
Get better
Never have I felt the sun shine
Or heard blowing wind speak
Within this cavern I align
Frozen in stalactite confine
I dream drips of dew drops unique
Formed by the sun I seek
One of the countless stalagmite
Protect the cavern floor
Facing our northern brothers height
Waiting here unmoving, my plight
Made of their drops, solid to core
Yet I want to be more
Not to be still rock formation
Dependent of their scrap
To grow on in bright elation
Not in this darkest damnation
Not to feel like nature's mishap
To feel caught in a trap
I could be flora lush and green
Pure dew on fragile leaves
Only my wildest roots unseen
Branches with elements convene
Reaching for solar rays achieves
Reprieves by shadow thieves
I’ll wait for giving’s from above
Fall to our rounded tops
Our centuries of growth thereof
To petrify, not push or shove
Wishing this muddy water swaps
With fresh gleaming dew drops
Your goodliness and Godliness parades around in my head
and makes me scoff.
I used to be that way too but the devil came by with her enticing ways.
She had such a convincing spiel, I followed her gladly.
Understanding now that the sinner part of me is more fun than not.
Do you want to be stagnant? Stale? Left in the dirt?
An old maid or worse?
Your prissy ways and persnickety attitude
is going to cause you to petrify.
You will never experience the little death if you remain on this track.
Come play with me, hear the pipes? Frolic and dance; the time is ripe.
You deserve to live; eat from the fatted calf, drink some red wine.
Stop standing in the mirror of others, nurture your wanton side.
Lust and love, that’s all there is baby, and money and greed.
Let yourself have a taste of the life you crave, the good life.
They who pressure you into purity are jealous of your youth.
They want you to become moldy, green, yesterday’s bread.
Do not waste your talents, your hunger is vast
You are voluptuous, adventuresome. Taste some life my friend!
Let me help you by leading the way.....
Repentance I gain;
Defective heart within.
Opium to suppress the pain;
Palsy sets within.
Strangle my soul;
Timorous soul.
Imminent death, tomorrow,
Volatile soul.
Forsaken love,
Disintegrate.
Hell, up above
Gloomily, I generate.
Ripe soul, anew,
Obey the cry.
Steal affection knew.
Trek tirelessly, die.
Keeper of day
Leer not at night.
Outlive, you may.
Petrify, you might.
Maintain the majesty;
Appease your hunger.
Cleave to the clarity.
Yonder, there’s thunder.
Sumptuous clouds,
Relax, don’t cry.
Prowl out loud.
Shamefully die.
The sun will shine brighter tomorrow when
you come into your own
the trees will shade you better then
when you take a walk with thee
The moon will wait at your doorstep's array
and help you recognise your light
it will no longer petrify you, the night
when you finally come home .
June 21, 2018
for the poems of poems contest
I remember those days when I'd pray it would rain
My heart then a vibrant flower in full bloom
I recall the drops hiding tears from unending pain
Trying to mask the scent of betrayal's perfume
My heart then a vibrant flower in full bloom
She forgave freely without regard for her sanity
Trying to mask the scent of betrayal's perfume
Her petals slowly petrify surrounded by inanity
She forgave freely without regard for her sanity
Though that flower still holds her beautiful pose
Her petals slowly petrify surrounded by inanity
They can no longer get to that perfect stone rose
Though that flower still holds her beautiful pose
I recall the drops hiding tears from unending pain
They can no longer get to that perfect stone rose
I remember those days when I'd pray it would rain
10/13/2016
Carved of one stone strong, you and I
In our texture same lattice lie
Oneness binds our grains together.
Eroding times' wrath can’t alter
Twined heart's tie even if they try.
On our common strength we rely
People don't fail to wonder why
In diverse life stature we are
Made of one stone.
On us, time a river flows by
Souls shine, two minds fuse, petrify
On face of lithic still mirror
We see us made for each other.
For final sleep on bed we’ll lie
Made of one stone.
Written : November 4, 2017.
Form : Rondeau. Syllable count : 8 each line except for 4 in last lines of stanzas 2,3.
March 23, 2020
Contest : Strand Choice O, Any Form, Any Theme
Sponsor : Brian Strand
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.