In desolate wasteland of deprivation,
sauntering languidly with my indigent life,
I tried tolerantly for so long
to smoothen the angularities
of our beleaguered bond.
Swirling in the egregious whirlpool
of searing indignation,
sucked into the chasm
of despondent desertion,
I searched in vain
for the pathway to your heart.
The feeling of dismal denial
made me abandon the pursuit.
But had I cultivated
the art of endurance
and stayed on resolute,
I’d have seen the butterfly
of yearning return reticent,
flitter in the air of changed time
on its wings of dream
in my sensuous sky
with the lattice of your charisma.
With the whispering wind
it’d have created the music,
harmonized with the rhythm of my heart,
where longing would have danced
with the ripples of rhapsody,
roll between you and me,
entwine us forever.
Purifying the renascent craving called love,
I’d have weaved the novel design of desire
in the tapestry of heavenly togetherness,
that wouldn’t have frayed
till the end of time.
Written: March 09, 2024 For Charlotte Puddifoot Contest
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
with serendipitous moans—ocean lulls
It's russet embers
ignite her soul's quilled longings
she flies to bloomy sky-scape
last sigh of waning twilight
chirpy mirth—katydid sounds
waves of
soft silk canzone
to whispering crimson
of ephemeral serenade
waves of arid shadows— ebb in
blurring haze of lingering longing
besotted in spumy scatters sighing
In epicede of hushed Elysian quiddity
quixotic susurrus—shorebirds' sapidity
horizon in cinereous ululation of Peacocks
rainbows and sylphlike threnody
my heart too, mirths... waiting
for you to return to me—in spring
renascent wings wings of crimson
gold and plums of purples!
In the desolate wasteland of deprivation
Traversed listlessly by my indigent life
I tried so very hard for so long
To smoothen the angularities of our bond.
Swirling in the egregious whirlpool of indignation
Sucked into the abyss of despondent neglect
I searched in vain for the path to your heart
The feeling of dismal denial made me run away.
But had I cultivated the art of patience and stayed on
I would have seen the butterfly of yearning return
Flitting in the changed time on its dreaming wings
In my sensuous sky with the lattice of your charisma.
With the whispering wind it would have created the music
Harmonized with the rhythm of my heart
Where longing would have danced with ripples of rhapsody
Roll between you and me to entwine us forever.
Consecrating the renascent craving called love
You would have weaved the design of desire
On the tapestry of heavenly togetherness
That would have stayed unfurled till the end of time.
_______________
October 31, 2022
Contest : I Chose To Run, But Had I Stayed, Things
Would Have Been Like
Sponsored by : Anoucheka Gangabissoon
The mist of the dew
smokes my vision
before the shadows
that penetrate my mind
because of your fallacies, felonies
and fallible conviction;
that with notable ghostings
they falsify your reason...
Well, I'm the phoenix
renascent before dark carburization
and cenesthetic ashes,
that has reached its zenith
ardently scintillant...
And, in front of your dew
and grim manipulator
I admonish and warn you
that firmly and solemnly
solidarily calcinated and burned
your counterfeit heart will remain...
************************************************************
Annunciations renascent bird in verve, upon an amulet wire my eyes do see!?
Animated, amid the sunburst branches as fluttering its tiny little wings ~
Chirping aside heartens amiable fertile waterfall, so joyfully splashing
Its springtimes radiant colours into the wellnigh river refined; interpose....
************************************************************
....“Amours, Psychogenic Forest” *
Illustrious phallus! Therein procreation, the urge for a bedfellow,
To yearn for the delight and gnaw not bashfully,
Seeking the unfound renascent song, faithful-song,
Gross poems like lemon to the mouth,
Seeing the wetness of wood, lapping leaves, perfect motionless or no,
A lying form, tremulous and ashamed of its divinity arouse this mystic whisper,
Follow its lawlessness,
A pilot whom hastens a passionate storm to solicit sex to warp the woof,
My privacy a loan from plenty;
A wish of sliding softly, thrusting, kisses; drunkenness leads to fatherhood,
To embrace hips, cling to trembling thighs, bending, waiting for the clinch,
A moment pliant, another unwilling,
Be tender to fiery stars and enveloping dews, emerge flitting and flawless,
to act upon stalwart loins.
The Journey
To save the criss-cross that lay ahead,
Set in epoch the traveller throng along,
With equestrian gallantry to solve the puzzle,
In divine supplication to attain the obligation.
And thus desire to maintain direction require,
With all the might and plight that attach instill.
Like Gulliver’s travails,you avail adventure,
Permeating municipal boundaries along magnificent rat-a-tats.
A hope for destination drives the traveller enroute,
And thus a large heart bequests the end.
The air of benevolence a promise of succour,
Trailing on surveillance and sourvenir alike.
Looking behind for memories of root depart,
That is left to romance the caress of bellow.
Like the colours of rainbow,you are clogged in entrepots,
Trodding the weary lanes with valiant approach.
Every hurdle scaled,every mantle attained beholds,
The valour of reminiscence on labour rend.
And seams renascent on time will concur,
The journey to the realm aspire.
Spring is the season
when Nature is renascent,
replenishing hope...
Copyright 2010 by Andrew Crisci
"Wonder no more . . ." breathed the Willow to me
Beneath the shaded sun in the dying of day
"I love you . . ." my whisper born to her
Under the smoldering of day
In the sight of the Big Bear
Renascent once more in the falling of summer
On a bench within the moon's feathered touch
Inside the echoed shushing of leaves
Glimmering laughter of the lake . . .
I should go
But I cannot bear to let you go
Because I need you
And I love you . . .
I love you enough to ask for nothing at all . . .
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