A quarter rest breathed into my consciousness, a playful pretense of a warm hand gently placed above my heart, calming my sedulous spirit.
—by the Poet
When Paris Was All The Rage
Slow sound of the sax; I lay back
and listen to good-old-day lyrics,
when Paris was all the rage,
and the time of love has past
for the old maid sipping wine
on a sidewalk café; staring,
are we, into the eyes of a painting
rainy and colorful; romanticized
by the simmering sound of the sax;
its notes buoyant on the Seine.
Raindrops of gray, blue and cherry
blossom; a scant smile on red lips,
reminiscing the fading beau and hours;
clicking heels and handsome dress.
Sedate and cocksure lyrics and vocables
regulate my heart, warm my pulse points.
A voice croons, as the ‘phonist’s fingers gyrate,
tingling all the senses; cabernet dimmer switch.
The sedate, dreamful morn
is planted in a heteromorphic
carnation.
It is engraved on the sonorous,
red star.
The moon is sowed in a melodious,
delightful route.
An unparalleled felicity fills the
soundless, enchanting rivulet.
Bill prodded his sebaceous cyst
‘Twas massive the size of his fist
It spurted green pus
His wife made a fuss
“Get treatment NOW, I must insist”
Blue lighted to the A & E
Huge spurting cyst medics could see
Bill’s livid butt boil
Made doctor’s recoil
Needs lancing now, they all agree
They bundle Bill onto a table
“Don’t sedate him” said his wife Mable
I will succinctly put
He’s a pain in the butt
I’m leaving him when I am able
The medics gave Bill’s boil a prick
Green gunky pus splurts, it’s so thick
Poor Mable was heaving
She said, “Bill I’m leaving
Because you’re an ignorant dick”
“You wouldn’t seek treatment for years
Your constant moans left me in tears
I’ll file for divorce
I’m leaving of course
I’m going to live in Algiers”!
Bills visage turned ever so pale
His final breath he did exhale
The cad passed away
There’s no more to say
I’ve finished the end of this tale!
Kindred Spirit
Mirrored reflections ingrained in our fate ,
Her thoughts shining inward designed to sedate ,
Heart beats sings softly with thunderous tunes,
Storms infiltrate morning as we strive to assume,
Relentless intentions meant to keep us immune,
We stare at the full moon it’s light our cocoon.
So travel so softly & reach for the stars ,
Our fiercest intentions as viewed from afar ,
The timely demise of what we hold dear ,
We look to the cosmos to explain all our fears.
God’s ongoing redemption of our actions & cost ,
We pray to recover all that’s been lost.
©2025AlanShapiro - all rights reserved
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Aroma of warmth, Aha! A cup of tea
Brewing romance, Yes, it's bittersweet.
Cheers of tranquility soak in solace
Darjeeling dreams, in Assam serene.
Ecstasy infused, our senses relaxed
Family and friends, bond captivated.
Golden or black, it's a drink just divine
Have a cup of Tea...and all gets fine!
Induces a mood, adventures unwind
Jingling china cups, in morning time.
Kettle whistles, bubbling with steam
Loose tea leaves in hot water swim
Melting sugar in lemon and honey.
Night jasmine, or chamomile flavour?
Oasis in summer, green tea is amber,
Picnic reverie, A fireside tea in winter.
Quiet thoughts to sedate the beverage
Rainy afternoons, cookies get drenched
Solace of caffeine blend creamy cakes
Taste delicious, evanescent moments
Under crushed cardamom is sober joy,
Valentine kiss: thou tea-cup you're mine
Wrap of the elixir slows our fast mood,
Xanadu magic! the hot and cold allude
Yin and Yang stirring in balanced hold.
Zest of life is Tea Time...layers unfold.
“When after the freezing time of gloom vibrant colors sprout,
I get gems of cheer from the spring scenery”- By Poet
As the air ripples with the rhythmic joy of spring,
the melodic whisper of the southern wind
serenades with the tune of rapturous rhapsody.
The sinking sun sets ablaze in twilight
the sedate skyline in the cold fire of color,
as the hued flimsy fleet of cloud clumps sail.
Pearls of opalescent dew bejewel the meadow,
the bent blades of green grass shimmer,
wearing the sparkling crown of pearly splendor.
The mist drifts away from the spotless lucent sky,
that turns into silken canvas of shining sapphire,
as in the barren boughs the satin leaves sprout.
The buds burst with colors from the winter freeze,
unfurl the fresco of flowers where butterflies flitter.
My window frames the beautiful spring scenery.
The sun closes her eyes, and I must close mine, this time,
but my breaking blood-brain barrier bids otherwise.
Another long night bodes foreboding in this light.
Forbidden thoughts seep deep from blood to brain.
I must fight, again, another tormenting night.
Earth's most frightening repetitive
cycle
plays on repeat as I try to cycle through
my backups to no avail, leaving no choice.
Swallowed by every detail of distress, I wait.
I await the end of another night laced with fear -
packed with pills meant to sedate me, but never did,
I waste away, waiting for the sun to open her eyes once again
In the Garden of Beginings
Projects failed or flowered,
Left to grow or to wither
Many being overpowered,
Each an experiment,
A blending of force
Each left to follow its
Own individual course.
None were culled
Without good reason
Flowering and blooming
For season after season.
Experiment of dimensions
Matter, time, force, space
Some rising to exist briefly,
Some at more sedate pace
As the Universal Gardner,
Glorying in the sight
Of destructive darkness
And brilliant creative light.
Used the lightest of control
To keep things on track,
Moving from place to place
Its tools slung on its back
It was a very balmy midsummer night
shadows danced with me under starlight
I heard a nightingale cry out for its mate
in that moment joy fled. I became sedate
My mind swirled with thoughts concealed
with something I no longer wanted revealed
I heard a whispering voice from my past
a fleeting memory recalled that didn't last
I felt the need to capture the recollection
a face, a touch that held tender affection
But much too swiftly the reverie took flight
the memory faded like the haze of twilight
A chill replaced the night's warmth I'd felt
I heaved a mournful sigh then slowly knelt
Another memory lost within a frozen mist
Of being embraced and my lips softly kissed
Flickering moments leave me without a trace
of what used to be. Was it a loved one's face?
Thoughts flutter in my mind, a befuddled place
that's becoming difficult to accept with grace
I've lost threads of my life, as if icebound in time
in silent corners of my mind, no longer in prime
The night has grown cold, my body shivering
lost in the mist of memories shadows, quivering.
The driveway is now a swamp of wet muck,
I fear driving any car but the truck,
without four-wheel drive, you’re gonna get stuck;
oh mud season has arrived.
The snow is melting, half-flooding the ground,
to step on the sound brings a squelching sound,
all sorts of fallen branches have been found;
oh mud season has arrived.
The ski hill is empty, snow left in streaks,
with more brown every day, as the sun seeks
every hidden patch, it’s no longer weak;
oh mud season has arrived.
Streams run swollen that are most times sedate,
the waterfalls surge, their flows much too great,
stunning to look on as they plunge and race;
oh mud season has arrived.
I’d like to go out, but it is too soon,
the trails right now would be a muddy doom,
I can only dream of them from this room;
oh mud season has arrived.
But life is back, I see the wading brants,
and the new fawns by the field-edge do prance,
while tawny does look on, somewhat askance;
oh mud season has arrived.
It’s already spring way up in the air,
but as for the earth, it is not quiet there,
so on rural roads, I will drive with care;
oh mud season has arrived.
(Can’t wait ’till it says "goodbye!”)
The splendid, resplendent
aurora sweeps the inner
life.
I stare at gory , leaden
clouds , unable to deter
them.
From causing drops of blood to
run down the shrill , deathless
desert.
A magnificent ,mazy grove
is painted with colorful ,
golden threads.
The unassuming ,
unflinching morn is
the incarnation of sedate silence
The wrathful , woundless
creek thrives like
rapturous hues of
serenity.
What's the scope of
:lifeless wretchedness?
: dreamed embers?
: unquenchable longing?
: weeping anemone?
The oracular , intricate soul
shields a shaded woodland
like a forested daybreak.
(Writing prompt : Wisdom is not enough to calm your fears)
Dark clouds of insecurity surge with menacing storm severe,
the distressed mind is sucked into the whirlpool of fear,
and swirls helpless within the vortex of noxious peril of gale,
gets divested of the feeling that the fright could be notional.
In times of disaster the journey’s end seems to be the plight,
as the light at the end of the dark tunnel doesn’t appear in sight.
The frightened senses feel the air of hazard in the unknown,
where the debris of hope piles up in the domain of fear outgrown.
Beneath the surface of the illusory mortal perception unclear,
the wise mind tries to build the sagacious images of fear
with the contours of reasoning that the astute insight affirms,
knowing the danger and realizing the risk in real terms.
Prudence may enhance fear, exposing the qualms deep,
but it tenders the skill to rationally control the panic state’s creep.
Wisdom doesn’t allay fear, an artifact of emotion innate,
but provides the acuity of acumen to face it with strength sedate.
Fervent rainbows vow to deck
a gloomy, woeful moon
with merriness and blissfulness.
Whispered dreams of virtue
triumph over a murky ,
desultory brook.
The serene , meandrous
butterfly is rocked by
an ephemeral , passing
chimera.
An angelic ,tranquilized petal
resides in the realm of
melodious ,
gracefulness.
Whispers of lovely rose
dwell in a tempestuous,
ardent sea.
The symphonic melody
of an unchanging
stork's felicity
overshadows the unflagging
hawk's power.
Delightful sunbeams echo
the unafraid, doughty breath
of a sedate chrysanthemum.
.
The force that enables us to be aware,
enlivening form, feeling each emotion,
yet remains nonchalant with nary a care,
distanced from stuporous mental commotion,
being who we are, which we may see threadbare,
radiates God’s light, as love’s magic potion.
Truth of Self, immediate and intimate,
throbs with potent power, in stillness sedate.
when truth stated by acclaimed sages is not realised
in as the vibrationless state is not cognised
whilst acknowledging the possibility
we try and refine our ability
parking the point
till God does so anoint
our eye with piercing spherical sight
attaining luminosity that banishes darkness of night
the blossoming flower waits
in staid stillness sedate
for as long as it takes
this is our offering
this is our prayer
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