Precinct Poems | Examples

Rapture Wave

Wind 
whistles
tempting tune,
on air-swept wings
beguiled birds soar high
to seamless sapphire sky
with the fleet of cotton clouds,
design changing silk shapes adrift.
Art shifts on curved canvas of cobalt,
flows as a freedom form with rhythmic joy.
I’m swept by rapture wave surge of nature,
swaying me on swells of solitude,
resounds the music of silence
in pristine precinct of peace
that suffuses my soul.
Lured by topaz sky,     
my mind adorns
jewels of
divine
joy.

Divine Joy

Wind 
whistles
tempting tune,
on air-swept wings
beguiled birds soar high
to seamless sapphire sky
with the fleet of cotton clouds,
design changing silk shapes adrift.
Art shifts on curved canvas of cobalt,
flows as a freedom form with rhythmic joy.
I’m swept by rapture wave surge of nature,
swaying me on swells of solitude,
resounds the music of silence
in pristine precinct of peace
that suffuses my soul.
Lured, I look at sky,
my mind adorns
jewels of
divine
joy.

Jewels Of Bliss

Wind 
whistles
tempting tune,
on air-swept wings
beguiled birds soar high
to seamless sapphire sky
with the fleet of cotton clouds,
design changing silk shapes adrift.
Art shifts on curved canvas of cobalt,
flows as a freedom form with rhythmic joy.
I’m swept by rapture wave surge of nature,
swaying me on swells of solitude,
resounds the music of silence
in pristine precinct of peace
that suffuses my soul.
Lured, I look at sky,
my mind adorns
jewels of
divine
bliss.

Thinking About Daylight

"Album Daylight by Jonathan Patterson" - Quote by Poet


In the precinct of sprawling emptiness, 
curved out by the contours of desolation,
the spreading daylight of prime promise 
bursts with the brilliance of magnificence, 
creating the serrated shadows of silence, 
where I'm consumed by illumined calmness. 

Within the light and shadow lattice, 
the fused sunray strands weave 
the tapestry of argentine ecstasy
on the silvery barrenness of seclusion
for me to walk in search of the lost dreams.

Trudging with the forlorn life 
across the shades of grey in the wilderness,
I take a lonesome journey with my pallid heart
across the silhouetted grandeur
of the daylight dwindling. 

Walking the last mile of the journey 
in the remaining hours of the day, 
I long for respite for the last time, 
step into the waiting memory corridor, 
see my dreams return enwrapped 
within the lengthening shadow of me.

CINDERFELLA

Evil Thug
Precinct Photo Mug
Money demise
Sophisticated surprise
Business Enterprise
Controlling the streets
Cinderfella Number One and can’t beat
Capturing women’s hearts
Sweet talking in the start
Kingpin game
Cinderfella with the name
Communities all realize
Don’t look Cinderfella in the eyes
He has his own security
Muscular Men to protect
Strength bringing the effect
Cinderfella in a class by himself
There’s no room for anybody else
Cinderfella the king
Gangster thing

Wearing The Blue

I'm wearing the blue,
yes, proudly, and don't prejudge me
and I won't prejudge you.
Some nights I sleep swirling in
nightmares,
seeing the blood of victims, and
I still very much care.
I grope for the lamp on my nightstand,
my headache becomes a tight band,
my wife awakened, softly talks me down,
I would love to leave this "toddlin' town."

Brother, sister police officers agree,
that our job puts a strain on our families,
I come home from tragedies such as
gun violence, child abuse, accidents,
robberies,
yet, I'm accused of being
cold and unfeeling,
when the hurt closes in and is
joy stealing.

Yes, I wear the blue,
my life, my heart is of rescue,
take a ride with me to see,
some of the human acrimony,
Yet, at the precinct it's comforting to receive,
flowers and cookies from some caring
people reaching out,
that's what gratitude is about,
it helps after long hours,
and when some distressed strangers
say, "Thank you for responding to my call,"
it can, at times-
relieve me from the pall.
We need to be more understood,
we need more cooperation from the
neighborhoods,
after all, it's for all our good. ~

Bliss

Wind 
whistles,
ripples air,
on wind-swept wings
beguiled birds soar high
in  seamless sapphire sky
with the fleet of cotton cloud,
designs changing silk shapes adrift.
Art shifts on curved canvas of cobalt,
flows as form of freedom with rhythmic joy.
I’m swept by rapture wave surge of nature,
swaying me on swells of solitude,
resounds the music of silence
in pristine precinct of peace
that suffuses my soul.
Lured, I look at sky,
my mind adorns
jewels of
divine
bliss.

Melancholy - Edvard Munch

The tapestry of the indigo sky,
weaved with the strips of silver cloud, 
merges with the still sea in the blues.
The dislodged boulders strewn as dry debris,
away from the waterfront of desire,
symbolize my broken dreams.

The anchorless empty boat 
drifts away from the shore of longing.
I feel connected with its desolation
for being away from the home you made for me,
that is lodged isolated in the yonder rocky ledge.

I am in the ruins with my splintered heart,
listen to the voice of the anguished soul.
Mutilated mind constructs the precinct of recluse,
encases the stifling loneliness of poignant prison
where the sad psyche languishes
with the unsurmountable agony relentlessly
negating the perspective of hope in mental affliction. 
The cauldron of dissonance remote from rhythm of life,
its void filled with drops of depression in adagio. 
My latent desires are demolished,
and the malleable mind yields to nostalgia,
the remnant of yearning shrouded in melancholy.

Rose Meadow

Both enchanting and beautiful you are, my Juliet Rose 
sitting in a rose meadow you never decompose 
With exceptional health and vigor you bloom in rare 
you really are quite exuberant, you really do have flare 

You are a full cupped rose with petals of distinct 
an apricot jewel from my garden's precinct 
Fifteen years of labor it took to produce an English Rose,  
you touch and resonate the heart strings, and it shows 

You live in a rose meadow perfuming all the air 
I've never met another with such gentle care 
both enchanting and beautiful, you are my special Rose 
inside this Sanctuary, it is here that you repose. 

 
May 13, 2023

Melancholy

Mutilated mind constructs the precinct of recluse
Encasing the stifling loneliness of sad prison
Languishes there the surrendered psyche.
Agony unsurmountable relentlessly
Negates the positive perspective of hope
Cauldron of dissonance remote from the rhythm of the outside
Hollowness inside filled with drops of depression in adagio
Obdurately prolonged as untiring mental affliction. 
Latent desires are demolished and the malleable mind
Yields to nostalgia, the melancholic remnant of yearning.

___________

(I chose to use Acrostic form to dissect melancholy to 
discern its anatomy)

May 9, 2023
Contest : Anatomy Of Melancholy
Sponsored by : Craig Cornish

Divinity

"Edified mind lights life in darkness, senses divine grace
in soul suffused with bliss" - By Poet

The compulsive free will ostensibly latent,
envelopes my mind with transient shroud, 
obscures the ordained pathway God makes,
l need to travel for it’s designed for me. 

The invisible glow of the omnipresent radiance 
wraps my obsessed essence, but I don’t discern, 
for I formulate life’s self-centric false image 
in the fabricated domain of self-deception.

Out of the dark abyss of despair,  
in inward journey through layers of awareness, 
my soul perceives the gleam of divine beacon,
lighting up the path to the precinct of bliss. 

After the aberrant exploits the errant mind 
finds the dismal trail of vice illumined, 
the secret door opens to the inner sanctum,
where conscience glitters in heavenly light.

When the notion of being becomes devout purpose,
the soul shines with spiritual sheen,    
then in self-searching endless endeavor, 
I perceive godly grace in the realm of divinity.

_____________ 

February 8, 2023
Theme chosen : Divinity
Contest : Writing Challenge - D Words
Sponsored by : Constance La France

Navigating Through Life's Highway

Across the wandering life’s changing dynamic landscape, 
the tortuous highway through the undulating topography
winded with the wheel of time to hazy future taking shape,
I was to traverse following the unseen footprints of destiny.

Many streams in spate I had swam across in somber squall,
buds of nascent hope clutched close to heart lest they sink.
Chasing butterflies in the verdant valley’s blooming sprawl,
my dreams flying through rainbow archway found precinct.

Drifting with the rhythm of the whistling wind in the forest,
radiant rays from the sunburst sky wrapped me with ecstasy.
Navigating wasteland path at night I found your arms to rest,
at dawn in my meadow the glow of love on dew I could see. 

The senile sun sinking at the edge of twilight leaves me alone,
at the life’s travelled highway I look back content for a while.
In the journey to the final abode beyond the horizon unknown,	
I don’t count the remaining footsteps while walking the last mile.

_______________

January 24, 2023
Title chosen : Navigating Through Life's Highway
Contest : Pick-A-Title Vol. 34
Sponsored by : Edward Ibeh

Zoot Suit

An exaggerated style, the zoot suit
          was a statement in clothes.
      Yet it fell into ill repute,
                    history shows.

Outlandishly flamboyant and distinct,
          comedy bore the roots. 
     That grew in the Harlem precinct,
                    as culture suits. 

With wide lapels and tight-pegged trousers,
          they seemed ostentatious.
      And denounced as rabble-rousers;
                    loose and spacious.

Worn by African-American youth
          and poor Mexican teens.
      They looked rebellious and uncouth,
                    more so than jeans.

Oft accessorized with a gold key chain
          and a fedora hat.
      Wartime sailors showed their disdain;
                    armed with a bat.

About racial tension; more than fashion,
          L.A. riots broke out.
     And boys beat without compassion,
                   left little doubt.


(Rhyme)


12/21/2022


Writing Challenge - Zip, Zig, Zag, Zing
Sponsored by: Constance La France

Along the Canal

The canal poked like a finger
into the wrinkled abdomen
of the Port. Along its length,
ketches once bruised
wooden wharves unloading wheat
shipped from outports across the gulf.
Pigeons stalked the spill of grain
from hessian bags torn 
by wharfies hooks. Port Adelaide’s 
pigeons were kept well fed.

I can remember being harnessed
to a pole and taught to swim
in the cold, dark waters of the canal.
I thrashed and kicked but could not float.
I did not have my fathers dolphin grace
whose aquatic triumphs were engraved
on a silver trophy that stood proud 
atop a fireplace shelf.

In its final days the canal slowed 
to a halt. Wharves were empty
and gave way to rot. In the end, 
dump trucks cascaded fill down
embankments until it choked.
A car park now seals its grave 
where plastic bags sail endlessly 
across an asphalt lake.
A shopping precinct recalls its name
in gaudy signage.

Memory still has me dangling 
on the end of a pole, flailing arms 
desperately searching for something 
solid to hold, suspended
like a lead weight
above a cold abyss.

Whenever I'M Lonely

Whenever I'm lonely
And wouldn't want to trouble my honey
I'll look for a place
Where I can travel out of my physical space

Into a proper solace
Where the hums of mosquitoes won't displace
Nor the buzzes of my babies
Often prompted by their cartooned fairy fantasies

Without hum and haw
I'm in a faraway land of relief where I poetically draw
With my quill full of ink
Instead of pencil on sketchbooks or brush in paint of zinc

Whenever I'm lonely in my precinct
And wouldn't want my troubles make me shrink
I'll proceed apace
To replace my sorrows with a scripture or a verse from my inner space.

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