Preludes Poems | Examples

PONDERING LABORING DAYS AHEAD

PONDERING LABORING DAYS AHEAD

In the laboring days ahead,
Dawning with continuous trials,
And subsequent tribulations,
Let’s not be like sheep
In a slaughtering pen;
Rather, let’s be as lambs
In the garden of God:- 

Armed with faith and hope,
And God’s divine guidance,
Let us, as the Psalms remind us,
Journey onwards to overcoming:
“Defending truth, humility, and justice”:-
For indeed, our God is a God of justice;
Justice indeed, being, “His royal scepter.”

Thus, as Summer is waning,
And leave falling Fall preludes 
The vicious coming of Winter,
Let us realize resurrecting Spring
Will likewise return with healing grace:-
Thus, let us continue in our resurrecting
Labors of love, sowing reaping justice:-

TO DREAMING DREAMS OF REALITY

TO DREAMING DREAMS OF REALITIES

Why, only in dreams do we become entirely free
From the gloom and doom of our present melee?

Why, in dreams only, do we become entirely free,
Flying high in the sky, free as we always wanted to be?

Why can’t I dream dreams of visions I can mold
Into dreams of realities, fulfilling missions of dreams?

If dreams are preludes of things to come, then let me
Dream dreams of liberty dreaming back to me, in reality:-

Here, wide awake among hopeful thoughts of life,
Let me mold my sweet dreams into my life's reality.

They Appear from Nowhere

“What is Past is Prologue.”
The Tempest.


It's the young ghosts that
haunt us most.

A vison of my 6-year-old self,
looking up from a basement window
at the gray pavement above my head.

It scared me then and still does.

One dead-eyed day in a wintery city
I saw a man without a coat
crouched and shivering,
the coat that he did not wear that day
I wore at that time.
The more I looked, the more I understood.

Such younger ghosts are spectral preludes,
phantoms of our psyche,
sealed into a setting, just large enough
for them to relive forever
a one-act play
of our soul-etched moments.

Symphony of the Sunrise

While crimson dawn orchestrated the sky,
Birds spread sweet notes at morning breeze’s rides;
As sunrise calmly croons with smile on high,
Rays kiss us tenderly with warmest glides.

Clouds tunes magically in peaceful tones,
Tree branches smooch the light in windpipe song;
Mountains and hills stand tall in rhythmic thrones,
As garden flowers sway with leaves along.

Dew drops mingle with strings of golden shafts,
Buzzing crowd preludes its rise in towns;
Chats and laughter are crescendos of wafts,
Sun’s sonata plays for our graces’ crowns.

Rejoice with daily sunrise symphony,
To make our day light, stress free and happy.

The Hummingbird Preludes

Hummingbird’s playing 
in the background,
The Page 
plays the blues,
interludes, 
fingers touching the 
sensual key notes 
scent openings
in the mind 
reeling 
in the horizontal lines 
along morning bodies 
now glistening, the 
dark nights aligned,
The Page 
plays the blues,
Hummingbird’s playing
in the background
those heavy Prison Blues 
absent black holes 
now universes away,
A Page 
of falling 
angels' feathers,
plucking the strings 
pressing points slowly 
in from the cold 
warm air tracing 
curves 
in the winding road
whispered along smooth 
racing executions 
erogenous pleasures
shifting gears upwards
No 4 Preludes 
undressing Chopin
in another way,
Hummingbird’s playing
in the background

slow dancing 
french kissing 

seducing 
interludes

A Page 
of falling 
angels' feathers
strings softly plucked
come undone 
Emerald Eyes
measuring 
the blues 
No 4 Preludes
undressing Chopin
in another way

The Preludes





Candide Diderot. ‘24 









Chopin No 4 Preludes (Chopin), Jimmy Page
Hummingbird, Jimmy Page
Emerald Eyes, Jimmy Page
Prison Blues, Jimmy Page

SATIE the music

the avant-garde
eccentric & peculiar
 gnossienne at  gymonpedie
 of the pregnant pause.
      stark…simple
without pretence…
sounds…
..then…silence.
 measuring
moments
.frozen pieces
In
the
particular In
The
   wonder 
revolvea
 in
all directions…

a
prolongment
of self…
  limp..lonely..lost….then
instantaneous….
 picturesque preludes… 
I open my mind, 
notice..
& respond

Piano

Porcelain keys create
         Passionate sonatas
         Pitched in dulcet notes through
         Prewritten preludes that
         Piercingly vibrate when
         Pianists softly press 
         Pedals to enhance tunes

Kissed By the Passing Breeze of Awakening

Kiss by the Passing Breeze of Awakening

Dust of divine whimsy
Flutters softly on unconscious cheeks
With ephemeral dawning
Fleeting like the flash of silver sandals
In moonlight - here then hidden -
Stepping out of the opaque
Soul stirring from oblivious daydreams
Stepping into moments of classical
 Lavender-rose moments.

The leaven of breezes in stardust essence
 Flares in lambent clarity
Caches of chimera, that drain the heartbeat,
Shrivel in bursts of cheeky shooting stars.

Aroused from the depths of sleepwalking,
Grace notes float on rose scents 
Harvested in potpourris for strangled screams
Scrambling through midnight fogs,
Sentience revisits in soft swirls
Awareness, roused by reveille,
Stirs caressed codas in soft preludes,
Awakes in fresh mindful raptures
Nurtured by a passing angel kiss.

Weekday Recitation

Alone for a moment
 measuring
sound
Frozen pieces
in a
particular way
to wonder 
about
myself
To relax for hours
 as in
a childish dream
and revolve 
in
all directions
this prolongment
of self
limp..lonely..lost….
then
instantaneous
three pieces in form
with picturesque preludes 
I open my mind
 notice
&respond

Enchanted

When I look at the night sky
I find worlds of mystery
and a feeling of great pleasure
where incantations flow in my soul
from the blissful sorcery of imagination
pouring in my head
as the universe becomes a singular focus
of perpetual thought
drifting like tendrils of seductiveness
across the vast black sky
filled with galaxies throughout eternity

where dreamers can dream
and wishes are preludes
to the creative thoughts
etched in the mind
by the wondrous eyes of the artist
who stands in contemplation
like a star in a universe of stars...enchanted


2/11/23
contest Writing Challenge-E words
sponsor Constance La France
"Enchanted"

Negligence Regarding Love

"What is life but a succession of preludes to unwritten words . . . "
                                 Quote by_Constance La France


                      Of superficial relevance whatever he had hidden
                 Hence negligence regarding love ought to be forbidden.

                     For wasting precious time has ruffled rich regret
                    Thus when I ponder he again, I’d rather just forget.

                   Though memories of we strikes without forewarning...
                      And it hurts to live a life frequently in mourning.



22/11/2022
Writing Challenge-  “V” Forms
Sponsored by: Constance La France
Theme: Writing

To Capture Perfect Words

"What is life but a succession of preludes to unwritten words . .
                     Quote by_Constance La France

We’re born. We learn to walk and talk.
We grow, learn more, and grow some more.
Milestones occur – too numerous to name:
first day of school, first best friend, first date, 
first kiss, first heartbreak, and on and on.
Ahhh, so many firsts – some wonderful,
some not!

The poet takes these life events 
and molds them into poems using descriptive phrases.
I know within my own mind 
there live unwritten words, like fledgling birds,
waiting to be released and given wing!

Poetry that makes us feel is poetry most real.
I think it should be every poet’s desire
to capture words – the perfect words
conveying all the beauty (and the sadness too)
that connects us all, one to another.

May our life’s preludes continue,
and may we never falter for poetic words.
Unwritten words inside my own mind
I hope forever
 I may find.

Nov. 19, 2022

Dear Joan Letter

*Image of Letter of Do's & Don'ts by WB.


Writing

"What is life but a succession of preludes to unwritten words . . . "

Quote by_Constance La France


Dear Joan Letter

You said I'm the one yet you're bad in math,
You with someone sent me on a warpath,
Physical brouhaha, caused a bloodbath,
Think twice is a plus in the aftermath,
Prior noted opinions, a steam bath,
Prompts I, some poetic sociopath.

2022 November 18
*3rd Place*
WRITING CHALLENGE - ''V'' Forms
~~Constance La France: 2022 November 23

PSGC & RZ & HMS.

Silent Song

What is life but a succession of preludes to unwritten words . .
                     Quote by_Constance La France

What is love, but a tale; a gust of wind blown in the dark. 
In dwindling hope, it is lost; for it failed to make a spark. 
The blank pages await for painted words to shed its grace;
But the blind feelings faded away in nothingness without a trace; 
For hope is faint for love's eternal inscription; 
A forgotten silent song without any dedication. 

November 18, 2022 

A Brian Strand Premiere No 53 Poetry Contest (6th place)
Sponsored by: Brian Strand

Writing Challenge V Form Poetry Contest (3rd place) 
Sponsored by: Constance La France

Flickering Flame

"What is life but a succession of preludes to unwritten words . . . "

                                 Quote by Constance La France

Oil just few drops left; wick irrecoverably worn out;
Wet match box; just a single stick; I strike, yet, with no doubt;
Midst terrible tempests, torrential rains and thatch-roof-leak,
Clings to a nook of that cracked chimney, survival seen bleak;
I shield the flame; count the hour; will day, yet, before time dawn?
Who will steal? What? With these thoughts I serenely sleep, fears gone...!


17 November 2022
WRITING CHALLENGE - ''V'' Forms Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Constance La France

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