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Rubaiyat
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Farewell Dog Days
Long daylight hours in a simmering sky
Augustus hot dog times of fun scorched by
ultra-violet’s warming kiss like steam
rising, sizzling from wet cloth ironed dry.
Sunlight seeping slyly through window screens
penetrate the house with intense hot beams.
Stretch in a hammock for an endless noon
as torrid crickets shrill out stifling screams.
Farewell all those beauteous buds of June
scent of purple Orchids, hypnotic blooms.
Augustus days of eternal simmer
will cool down slowly by September's tune.
9/26/18
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Rubaiyat
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Black roses sprawl, to droop, then fade
raking tendrils of her attic’s shades;
a brief display which glints inked nights
only for time’s sake, buds do parade.
How fleeting the luster of stems’ arms,
between weeping dusk and chilled sun
twigs crack like love's farewell --sad moon,
a wish-- the fragrance of bliss gone.
She digs remnants; gazing afar
perhaps to cuddle ringlets of star,
that hides dawn’s lamp from memories
instead her eyes reflect more scars.
Though pain mocks unbecoming heart
a young bough nestles on ground's arc;
granting reprieve in place of tears
to kindle sparks for dance to start.
Open Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Charlotte Puddifoot
7/12/2015
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Rubaiyat
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Stars are crammed into the cosmos.
Sought and chosen as my name rose.
Each evil and skinned modesty,
In need times, I was prone to praise.
Since my house is calm and lonely.
Angels poised the wide Gate Glory.
Sometimes horrible things happen.
My name is stated, I'm in glee.
This mundane world isn't my heaven.
In high skies, near to grace fountain.
A deep sorrow soon brings to light.
The eyelids shine as tears flow down.
A soul that could be tamed by might.
And greet All with hugs and delight.
Sorrow moves in the strained shadow.
I need peace to soothe my insight.
I'm curled on a scented pillow.
I'm anxious, when or not; I'll go.
Sad loss to a cherished farewell.
I gave up and sighed with sorrow.
Perhaps in the darkness of hell.
Slight echo may be felt indwell.
The same sleep took me anyplace.
I am free of dread and befell.
Written: October 07, 2021
Interlocking Rubaiyat Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Angel L Villanueva
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Rubaiyat
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This will be the fortuitous night
When her restless spirit fully takes flight
In all four winds that fail to slow
Under the waning reflective moonlight.
They met under the delight of Luna’s soft glow
Swimming bare in warm waters amid a lovely meadow
In a déjà vu frolic touched only by heart’s desire
Somewhere behind the blind and beyond the unknown below
The dying embers of life within her prior
On the days with the loudest silence stood by her
Echoing in yesterday, no longer sleeping in the nowhere void
For her shadow now glows in his path’s fire
Tempted by winter’s falling breath enjoyed
Chilling her delicate skin, the intimate waiting thus destroyed
The whirling wind dies in a mid-dance farewell
An autumn flame becomes a lover’s grave to avoid
The fettered couple will soon be set free from their harrowed cell
A once-lost saga of starlight’s only voyaged hell
She has been swept away in death’s lingering dance
With a last glance in his direction, the end of her silenced knell
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Rubaiyat
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I relinquish my pen before the storm
of her tears falling upon my bare arm
her gentle whispering breathed in my ear
Muse of mine, adieu to your wit and charm
With piqued reasons I have come to deduce
It's time to say fond farewell to my muse
She should seek a new poet and lay claim
for my words have grown utterly abstruse
Spare me sullen eyes, from cries in refrain
I shall not weep in sadness nor disdain
Bitterness does not become a recluse
My poet's heart weakens, I dare not feign
Time's drawn the shades in darkness of night
No candle flame shall glimmer enough light
in which I may be tempted before morn
to doubt seclusion and attempt to write
Cloistered without pen, I shall ever be
From thinking in rhyme I shall be set free
Poems half written on bits of scrap paper
I shall lock away and then toss the key
My hand has retired, this last poem now penned
No more idyll thoughts of mind will transcend
Bereft of rhymes and abandoned of verse
This poet knows her time has reached an end
Ink no longer flows through my tunneled veins
Expressed emotions in poetry wanes
And when interred, on my stone I shall read,
"Reclusive poet" over my remains
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