Honey, I bought a rose for you to prove that all things die
But even in death they live on that's why i bent my knee and smiled
you to remember
happier times
you to remember
happier times
Honey i wrote a note for you to prove I'm still alive
With a polaroid photo to bring memories to light
you to remember
happier times
you to remember
happier times
Honey don't cry
If else then
Live more life than I've lived
Tribute me with acts of true joy that money cannot give
Our laughter filled the air like the rainbows of little kids
Reanimate me through comedy the crucifix of your banes
We sang through our sorrows and laughed through our pains
And if you may remember me in lonesome silence and grief
There's a piece of me I've left in you to treasure and relive
Like recitations
"I need the money honey..."
It's true of course -
we got a divorce,
and she bore my head aloft -
but her heart was soft,
and I suffer no remorse.
My attorney's stipulations
omitted decapitations,
and so, it's only fair
my head is lying there
giving poetic recitations.
There were boxes of memories piled high
From the ground up to the sky
And in each one like cubes of solitary glass
Shinning in the sun
It seemed as if time were frozen in the past
Unrelieved by forward or backward reverberations
In this matrix of unending associations.
Recitations on these grids of spatial time
Were punctuated by equal strips of glowing
Equivalences of rhyme
And standing there between these strips
Of shimmering iridescences
I could look back over my shoulder and see
The future mirrored in the past of essences.
.
Heart paralysis reflects unholy yearning.
She has wrapped her love in soiled paper
and hidden it beneath forgotten works.
Specters in the house heed alarms and float
towards daily rituals that rearrange pain.
Distant transmissions crackle through nights.
She has wrapped up her love.
Once fond recitations swam on breezes and
brushed lip to skin with infinite colour that
tattooed devotion onto vein and pulse.
Embalmed silence sits still, pregnant.
She has wrapped her love in flowered cloth
and tied it up with faded ribbon.
Home was an adorned method scorched by
evening embraces and empty bottles of wine.
Rooms now echo flatly, devoid of a beginning.
She has wrapped up her love.
We ran away together; we ran so far with
broken radar and injured souls that our hurt
became skin and forgetting became dear.
She has wrapped up her love.
I lay down my thoughts like an endless river, as the sun sifts light at dawn,
I wish for you to smile, untouched by memories, without my heavy shadow, without the burden.
I see you walking down the old street in the sun, with ice cream melting on your fingers,
Among those who never doubted you, with eyes lit by untouched dreams.
I gave up the dream where I held you, in the crowd that whispered about us.
Perhaps it wasn't them, perhaps I was the executioner, my prayers, empty recitations.
I wonder if you would have met me, before life's masquerade ball,
What chance did a tall rose have, with a lotus blooming in murky waters?
Could your grace have transformed the swamp into a garden of shining stars?
Would your winds have carried the scent into my silent and deep ruin?
Or would my world carved from you have stained your soul's brilliance,
With the rust of unprotected things? How would your pure light shine in shattered mirrors?
Perhaps in a kinder life, you will find someone unafraid of your light,
Whose ruins know how to bloom, not bruise under my weight.
And if I am reborn in that hour, I will remain a shadow, watching you smile, from afar.
We have handed over control
to a phantom, that insane inner voice
we name the 'ego'.
Listen not to those demanding monologues
look not to their twisted reasoning.
Do not fight with its recitations
give them no credence.
Such thoughts come
from the invasive roots of fear,
do not feed them with attention.
Don't identify with its words,
it will talk to us
as if it were our own true thoughts
yet they are not, they never ever were.
Turn your mind away
neglect and ignore
the ego's attempts to persuade
and coerce.
Our real thoughts emerge
from that space we create from silence,
there the ego holds no sway,
there its mad dialogues
can be easily expunged
with just a simple and knowing smile
of pure awareness.
Virtual Town Square
David J Walker
The marketplace is teeming with noise
From the beginnings of early morning meetings
Rumors and warnings about
The strange faces from places you
Never heard of before
The penumbra provided protects the
Interpretation of selective vision
Mnemonic recitations guide
Approved cogitation
That gather communities together
Into their one true form of a
Virtual town square
Where
Freedom of thought disappears
Have you ever listened to Rock Me Amadeus on Karaoke
I would rather be a Bat Out Of Hell on my Stairway To Heaven
And that is what they will have to sing when my box gets lowered
Sunk into eternity while the pastor's Guitar Gently Weeps
For Singing In the Rain we can be sure A Hard Rain is going to fall
Pitter patter on the Eve Of Destruction and Smoke On The Water
Overcoming Sounds Of Silence on a miraculous Yellow Brick Road
Funeral For A Friend Knocking On Heaven's Door Born To Be Wild
I wish for a cacophony of voices a true concerto for a Tambourine Man
Honest and truthful recitations of Lucy Jordan when I cross the Styx
Caron shouts Don't Pay The Ferryman for my ultimate Ticket To Ride
A Script For A Jester's Tear has to ooze gracefully and Slip Sliding Away
Dance Me To The End Of Love and don't forget The Famous Blue Raincoat
For it's The End Of The World As We Know it and The Doors know The End
The Song's Over and from now on it will be Radar Love on Telegraph Road
Another One Bites The Dust and I have peace Somewhere Over The Rainbow
23rd December 2019
vivid
exuberant
witty&graceful
yet intense-
tirades
of emotion
unfettered,
memorable
tone
parallels
speaking fire,
scenic
noise
in tonal
depictions
Who would date a poet?
And have her name grow,
As a garden's eden history,
Have her lips comply with ink that smear'd,
Ears breed on a poultry of recitations,
A fun-fare of words abridge.
**
Maidens wish all to be,
Such from his gourd of honour shall you drink in perissos,
Such from his robe,and by all tongues,
Shall your name convert'd,
A new age of fame,on a beauty brick,
A spade a spade,
The new beauty queen!
**
Then minds might date back to Venus;
Beauty-borne of Dione,
And non to dare you to a contest,as Arachne,
But in Argo,you and me will thrust,
When our ears begin to drown by Arion's love song,
What more an odyssey do lasses crave!
**
And if by the phoenix of Astarte you wish,
Then thy trust is mine a pleasure,
Cook not a phobia of distrust,
Grab my hands as heartily,
For I am Apollo,god of these bleeding lines.
Rise up, Scion of La Mancha.
Destiny orbited all that you were
and encompassed all that you possessed.
Windmills stood ten-fold to the fore
when you readied your lance
and saddled your barn nag.
Its whipped hide and ungulated
hoofs cantering towards betrayal
and unfinished vows.
Your voice was virtuous in timbre
against the manifest threat of cruel
malfeasance that roamed the lands
of bogus hills and rampant mountains
charging towards the crest of your
enlightened honour.
Now, these burning candles about
your casket hold the truth
of your quests until, like you,
they peter out and die.
And then, recitations of your Quixotic
trials shall be cleaved from history.
Such is the eye of irony that wrests
away your conquests.
So, rise up Scion of La Mancha and challenge
the lies. Ride abroad with purpose once more.
Or lay where you rest and let time become
a biased judge to your well laid intentions.
HOLY PUDDING
Creamy pale flour toasting slowly in clear butter
Rhythmic strokes glaze it glistening ochre brown
Suffusing sanctum with spiritual fervour
Wafts of rich aroma languidly mount
Bursting sweetness from gold tinged grains
Blessed offering satiates pious souls
Amidst dulcet chants of sonorous refrain
Resonating a trail of endless echoes
Earlier submitted
Oct20 2016
Contest
8 Lines max new or old
Resubmitting for Contest 264 max 8 lines
Date Jan 17 2017
Footnote
The KARAH PRASAD or the sacred pudding of Sikhism is a blend of wheat, sugar and butter prepared with supreme devotion in the backdrop of recitations of hymns from the scriptures and offered to all present.This Prasad is considered a symbol of the Guru's grace and blessings.
An orgy of creation, an elixir of
extreme emotions ,birth pangs of
the aberrant in esoteric diction
hear me recite from my 4100+ PS anthology on youtube under my pen name ichthyschiro..
catch my short forms @strandppet on twitter..
read my kindle guides on amazon
From grainy graduations of dark chaos
multiple emotions leap out and erupt
from the unconscious mind.Angst in
moody blue,beauty of random gestures.
Perversity facing up to life,a lyrical dream
a panorama of varied shapes balanced in
space,shadowing floor to ceilng with
mobile images in silhouette.
hear my PS antholgy recitations on youtube under my pen name ichthyschiro...
catch my short forms @strandpoet on twitter...
read my Christian and poetry kindle guides on amazon
While life was in its spring, a stream
in full spate down memory lane from
a bygone time and place that experience
articulated into voices of poetry.
Love and desire,whose shadow ripple on
rich in melody, a poesie of flowers
floating on summer air and yet..
such conceits can be but a bitterbsweet
fancy 'twixt verse and poetry.
catch my anthology recitations on youtube under my pen name ichthyschiro...
read my short forms@strandpoet on twitter...
buy my kindle netbooks guides etc on amazon
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.