3 fugacity
Did you see the butterfly,
Flying in your garden,
To make one’s wings vibrate
To forage again,
Accept his happiness,
Breathe in the perfumes
The magnolia flower,
The butterfly tree, says
David’s Buddleia,
Dip your icy lips
In a glass of jurançon,
The moment won’t come back,
Did you see the butterfly?
13
As tu vu le papillon,
Voler dans ton jardin,
Faire vibrer ses ailes
Pour butiner encore,
Accepte son bonheur,
Respire les parfums
La fleur de magnolia,
L’arbre à papillons, dit
Le Buddleia de David,
Trempe tes lèvres glacées
Dans un verre de jurançon,
L’instant ne reviendra pas,
As tu vu le papillon ?
The globe is a shrubbery we must safeguard like our own world,
World of women’s physiques with un-upkept in between,
In-between growing huge shrubs untended and jamboreeing silent bugs,
Bugs spread as weeds when a savannah of hair buckskins the sun.
Sun vanished in thickets can distress the peace of hubbies,
Hubbies ramble like agrarians looking for grounds that respire with health,
Health produces where spotless rivers run and razors clear the trail,
Trail through the wasteland teaches that shaving is pruning.
Pruning protects both soil and skin from pungent shade,
Shade over basins or over women offers unseen diseases,
Diseases cautions us that negligence of earth rears regret,
Regret dwindles when we shield every allotment with affection.
Affection describes such a woman who never weeds her land,
Land producing human beings should not be that bushy,
Bushy and causing it smelly, a condition able to generate germs,
Germs that spoil the body and the feelings that repel lovers.
Poem by Mugisho T.N
Dancing on one leg,
On one leg we live with agony.
Agony shapes our wobbly footsteps.
Footsteps made into inaudible power.
Power blossoms through a series of gaffes.
Gaffes in life we must encounter.
Encounter the collapse,
Collapse that let us instill how to soar
Soar through tornadoes.
Tornadoes that hover steadiness
Steadiness leading to respire hesitation.
Hesitation converts into intensity.
Intensity that coals irrepressible souls.
Souls molded by cracks
Cracks that find cadence in the obscure.
Obscure leads to dawn
Dawn still pirouetting on one leg
Poem by N. Mugisho
A Jaw biopsy was done to determine the issue,
The Doctors first response “looks like scar tissue”.
His next question was, “have you ever been hit on the Jaw”?
In an attempt to be funny my response brought no hurrah,
“Yes, I have on a few occasions, hit a fist with my face”,
when endeavoring to put another, in what I thought, was his place.
From the lab I waited three days, then came my answer.
The Doctor quickly said Tom “You have Parotid Gland cancer”.
So cancer became the match that would set my fields on fire,
I sought the face of Jesus and once more I could easily respire.
In faith I asked Jesus, i believed, and confessed my sin,
and at that moment I felt forgiven and became born again.
Now many years and speed bumps later I still grasp his hand,
Jesus is still my captain and I’m still under his command.
.
Clad in bright white sapphire
Millions crawl, the exhausted lay to admire
Within its swelling eye thousands desire
At the back I lie, waiting to expire
Scratching the walls without respire
I danced into crossfire
With a soul which yearns to retire
Lips littered with satire
A heart prosecuted to hellfire
Still, my porcelain surface shone as if a luminaire
Slowly the winds fill me with tire
Yet for the last time, my body rose high of inspire
Amidst the silent woods, my mind's a wildfire
All that remains, a mind left in quagmire
Forest dreams as tender as a whisper
soft spoken wishes in the penumbra of night
Divinely assembled beneath a scried heaven
we live, we breathe, we follow...
The evening plants begin to respire
and the trees close up for the evening retreat.
We sit and meditate while the dusk settles in,
the candles burn surrounding us with light !
Woodland scents permeate the humid air
black orchid with notes of black truffle,
patchouli, and vanilla, rum-soaked in black.
We are never lost when we find ourselves
centered as a Buddha in the thick of light
Tibetan flutes and magical newts by the lake
each breath we take is an intake of peace
we are semi-aquatic beings in the wildlife
Forest reveries as vivid as lucid dreams of old
we stay green and pend, until we turn to gold.
The stars grow cold
To bleak stones that do not inspire
The stars grow cold
When nature's hands go weak and old
As the trees no longer respire
And no more has men to aspire
The stars grow cold
My eyes avoid meeting your tongue,
For they abhor the sight of enchanted lung.
My breaths’ casted in hell,
Where I respire amongst broken bells,
My heartbeat enclosed in an abandoned cell.
All to prevent being stung by virtue shunned cause of cursed spell.
Respire
Make of me a banished son
To walk this world alone
With heavy heart and heavy load
The boulder and the stone
Make of me a loyal friend
A soldier at your side
To be there when it matters most
A brother all your life
Make of me a mighty sword
An instrument of death
I was me but now he's gone
And this is what is left
Make of me a rising son
A vindicated soul
That I may be forgiven
And find my way back home
Violet dreams drenched and soaked in fantasy, vapors of the most imaginative kind.
In this fantasmal Universe live little magical volatile people, both sentient and blue.
Carpeted with lawns that respire and breathe in the middle of night, stand unusual trees capable of reviving their foliage at the speed of light.
Dark vultures of karmic lineage live pre-cautiously inside the crevices of this long abandoned moon.
Magical runes spiel inside and around tiny silver makeshift orbs, spinning they imitate what was once a functional moon rotating on its axis.
Today this model moon is used as a place where people go to access their dreams and turn them into reality.
to be continued...
Inside the chest within my chest I find it;
A vial of virulent vile,
viral in that last vestige of guile and vitality
Where the headsmen and dreadsmen line up rank and file.
That horrible phial of terrible bile of all the beasts in the wild combined into ire so hot it's like fire and skies of respire.
But what respire? For whom?
The demons of love or the angels of doom?
Methinks it's a fun time, here burning in hell.
...I deserve it, after all.
What a beaut!
My mind silently, hopefully aspires,
As you made me terribly perspire,
I am now having troubles to respire.
What a healing!
As my heart cried for your uncommon love,
I was healed by the briefs of your laughs,
All along my eyes were covered with sloughs.
What a beauty!
My eyes instantly exclaimed,
Mine surely one of the many acclaims,
Going, by what your gestures proclaimed.
What a feeling!
As you made your love available for me to trust,
You instantly cured me of my past lusts,
Your love would have been the most painful I lost.
We have refused to hearken to her plea,
Our insatiable desires have spurred our spree,
We have jettisoned her cry,
We only look and sigh,
We've been taken over by our cravings,
Pushed overboard by our strivings,
We journey towards a mammoth empire,
Stifling her free course to respire,
We desire a wholesome stress-free lane,
To her detriment and bane,
She stands listless and frail,
As we go on our splurge sail,
She said it is an equal and opposite reaction,
As some have had the premonition,
We're on a lethal cruise,
We're wearing unfit shoes,
A stitch in time saves nine.
February 19, 2023.
Forte
Quando
tudo
parece difícil,
e tudo que
você vê
é a montanha
para subir,
respire fundo,
deixe seu
espírito
crescer,
e deixe
seu coração
e alma
se alinharem
para dar-te
a força
para seguir
e fazer,
mais e mais.
The dead ambitious in The Empire
Wrecked her, when they began to aspire
To The Top that would Intrigue inspire:
When dreamt they to ascend Sky-High Spire,
Soon finding out they could just conspire
Against their Emperor and Umpire
If not him crush good, cause to expire…
And this badly hit the empire:
At work, few with a will to perspire;
Only scallywags with ease respire
A Once-Splendid Once-Glorious Empire
In which was found Much-Treasured Sapphire
Just like that ‘enveloped in great fire.
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.