Rarefied Poems

published poet

Published Poet

I wrote a poem 24 years ago,

I have forgotten it now,

but I was paid twenty quids

and my plan was to frame it

for anyone doubt

I was truly a poet,

My wife was sarcastic about this

paltry sum, she didn’t get it

I had joined the rarefied

of a poet who had been paid

for his work.

I do not do poetry comps

anymore,

The excitement of winning was

too overwhelming.

The wood nymph

Through the breeze driven fluttering foliage
sunlight licks lasciviously upon her skin.
Through the diaphanous dress that surrounds her
it warms her as her frenzied frolic begins.

In her rarefied rapture she prances,
ending sublime stasis from the night before
when suitor satyrs did woo her,
a legend legacy from days of yore.

Now alone in her wandering woodland
she dances dangerously close to free,
to the magical music of birdsong,
lithe limbs twisting beneath her trees.

She tosses tousled hair to the morning,
with artistic abandon she flies,
among the sun speckled leaves of her true loves
who brush branches to signal their sighs.

Miles Tones

You spoke a new language
  of rarefied air
  guided nonchalantly 
  through curving channels of brass

Conduits of cool
  juries of jazz
  floating past soulful valves 
  harbingers of what will come

Slender fingers
  improvising storylines
  magistrates of melancholy
  bailiffs of bop

Miles from the mainstream
  a milestone of 
  modern modalities 
  kind of blue

The Papers

The purple lands
reading the daily papers
following others leads
A message from your editor
The Sunshine is low
the air rarefied
but every friend is now your enemy
no matter the end
and the rest is mere interest
across some arcane wind

Reexamining the Correct Path Forward

I exhale
before each inhale.

I unfurl the umbrella
before I jump.

Exhale.
Rarefied air

slows the descent,
spelunking, searching

for the key 
that unlocks

the safe where
I placed your heart.

Inhale. 
Jet streams

lift me up
over the cresting

clouds. Exhale.
Sunset. Inhale,

the sun rises,
streaming through

the keyhole. Exhale,
the first tumbler falls.

That Salad Went Right Through Me

That Salad Went Right Through Me


I've always wanted to write a poem called
“That Salad Went Right Through Me”.
And I would wager upon its best destiny:

To begin with, there is the Universal Theme--
For who has not gurgled around a conference table
at half past the last radish scrap?

Who, once stalled, has not
persistently punched the flusher
to muffle the borborygmus din?

But on a loftier note, I prefer 
to think of my paean emblazoned
in the annals of first line indexes, 
where, as one wanders lonely as a cloud 

over dactyls and tropes,
“That salad went right through me”
trots right off the page 
demanding a fervid flip to its leaf.

And future discourse plied at workshops, 
and other such rarefied privies of poesy
might thusly include:

 "Did you write a poem for the class today?"

	Yes...“That Salad Went Right Through Me”

 "Well then, you should consider the cheesecake."

De Vindiciis

ON REVENGE

Revenge is too often rarefied as the idol of man's veneration.
It is also viewed as unrighteous of earnest thought.

Having recovered from slander
By my adversary, 
my enemies and my antagonists;
Learned what it means to be bullied
Love left out of reach of them!

I saved myself from evildoers; 
These ruthless bastards and es left me no choice;
but to fight;
I stayed lying in wait to approach; 
My compelling truth conspired against them.
Revenge is sweet…..Sometimes!

Undying Passion

Eternal city where
Mere mortals bravely tread
Inhaling rarefied atmosphere
That still evokes Renaissance passion
Caravaggio's art speaks from his paintings
While our verbal discourse becomes mute
Before his mighty vision.


Delice
22-11-2020

The Enigma

Enigma 

The USA has Trump
and the whole world suffers under his tyranny.
But we must not forget he was elected
and will be elected again.
Does this half of America guilty too?
or are the people so uninformed and propagandized
they think Trump is excellent? (because he says so)
Many Jews say they dislike the leadership in Israel
but do nothing about to stop it,
or they will not survive as a country if they are not
cruel towards the Palestinians.
Macron of France is a tyrant, ignores peoples wishes
and only listens to bankers, the workers i
is not essential in his rarefied world, and we do accept
his immoral serpentinites.
The British ditched a social leader; now they have got
a man who works against their interest and given time
will bring this once great country to its knees.
Have they got a leader they deserve?

Virus From the Corona

Definition:
Corona ' the rarefied gaseous envelope of the sun or other stars'
Dose that mean this virus is space born or maybe from mars?
 
The media will inform you to Heed the warnings and feel that fear
 'That we should Close the boarders 
"let's not have it here" .
don't touch that ‘
and avoid that place the latest reports confirm it’s from space .

Just a cough at the beginning this heralds its start 
'but watch the hell out 
‘for this virus is smart .

I heard on the radio that hospitals can no longer cope 
'this thing from the stars has robbed our hope , 
thousands have fallen and some have even died 
from this astral weapon that's now been applied .

So What's the government’s line to combating this plague ?
It’s to Forget this poem 
‘As it’s misleading and vague .

My One and Only

My one, my own, most special star,
Beams such love from afar;
Precious, most pure rays of light,
Heaven's best and sure delight.

Winsome, loveliest, eternally true.
Silvery shadows tinged of blue;
This rarefied treasure-how fine!
A love that could surely be mine.

Deepest, shimmeriest kind of glow.
What more love a heart can know?
Saddest, bluest when you depart;
Could only see you within my heart.

Satiny, silky, serene-so sweet!
Lustrous when our paths they meet.
And when the  snow begins to fall,
To my heart does this season call.

My one, my own most solitary star,
Everlasting flame from heaven afar,
That shines through a like so true,
And makes me fall for you!

Atrophy

She'd had her round in Life's blighting furnace,
Where stealthy wear and age blurred her face.
Dents shot where dreamy dimples had grown,
Lightning smiles usurped by involuntary frown.  

In her livelier turns by Midas' glowing shores,
She galloped and gleamed like grated brass. 
Time’s grim cankers fell on the rarefied feast
Of the cutest eye ever cast on envious glass. 

If as a reincarnated phoenix's her gone grin
Could twirl and morph into its erstwhile arc,
She’d anon repulse her timing nemesis’ sin,
And give her faded glories an eternal spark. 

Bereft of that fairy fowl's sheen-saving magic,
She’d to inevitably brave decay's stoic scythe. 
Merry rhyme sung her sweet charms to mimic
Faded to ethers wherein dead beauties writhe. 

No looker who her earth-blemished visage espies,
Can know she was the fairest star in kindlier skies.

The Poem

it's the rarefied feelings
where you linger
in depths of mind
becoming the chirography
of my eternal soul

in a climax
of thoughts
you become
my poem
and i the poet

i lay you down
on sheets of white
in a fingered touch
like a poet's pen

play with you
amidst words
through confines
of darkness
as they erupt
in the rise
and fall 
of winded breaths
leaving me
lusting for more
than metaphorical
writes of poetry

Spring Is Here

Spring is here, and there's no mistaking the mirth  

      In the rarefied air. The days are refreshingly young 

       Soon I'll be dancing under the cool April showers

      Butterflies float o'er the plain, as light as gossamer

   A bloomed forsythia glistens in the golden morning light

   Sunny days are ahead. Spring is here, so full of promise


Writing Challenge 6, March 2019 - 6 lines Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Dear Heart (Winner: 3rd Place)
Date written and posted: 03/31/2019

Summer Loves

When gazing 'cross love's glistening expanse,

               The magic of those June thru August moons ...

       Was bound to weave the warmest of romance -

                      Its beams, the dreamy silk of summer swoons.



Those sizzling weeks were somehow rarefied,

               With breath that stirred a longing deep within,

       And carried angels, blessed, but just this side

                      Of being much too chaste and sweet for sin.



Oh brief, the winsome balm of summer days,

               Yet briefer are the courtships that they bind -

       Those magic spring-tide sparks, so set ablaze,

                      Burn hot-but-faster, in the hearts they find.



Tho' all those summer flings will find us old,

                      The embers warm us ... as our days grow cold.







~ 2nd Place ~  in the "Summer Love Sonnet" Poetry Contest, John Hamilton, Judge & Sponsor.

~ 1st Place ~  in the "May 2018 Standard Any Form" Poetry Contest, Brian Strand, Judge & Sponsor.

~ 3rd Place ~  in the "Memories Of May" Poetry Contest, Michelle Faulkner, Sponsor.

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