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Sestina
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She stretched her hand out into the sky
As if she was pulling the sun's rays into her palms.
Her legs moved with such grace,
And there was beauty in the chaos of her unmeasured steps. There was no music,
But her dress had the prettiest whirlpool every time she spun.
Her hips swayed with a majestic motion
Hypnotic to the eye
Seductive to the soul.
She was like a star,
Only obsession could reach
Away she danced into the sunset
Till she was a silhouette echoing the fading horizon.
She blew a kiss
She blew my mind
She skipped away into the night
I skipped a heartbeat
The next day,
Only a few drunken love rhymes on the wall behind where she performed were left.
Oh
And a throbbing lump in my heart.
One sad poet's heart wasn't trophy enough.
Onto the next city she went
On and on
The show never stops
The dancer
Elliepoet
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Sestina
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Celestial music rings,
riding waves,
in the ethers.
every note,
of every song,
does its aerial dance.
As voices in prayer dance;
reverberating rings,
echo each soul’s song;
upon Etheric waves.
Every note,
a precious gift on the ethers.
Souls ride the ethers;
swirling, twirling, they dance.
The resonance, rings every note,
like a bell rings
out upon the waves
of air, to build a sacred song.
Spirit songs,
on the ethers;
oike ocean waves,
in celebratory dance;
play celestial scales and bells ring
out each precious note.
Each bell-like note,
echoes its own set of songs,
like church bells ring
through the heavenly ethers.
All life will dance
upon those heavenly waves.
Earths ocean, womb-waves;
swirl and sway to every celestial note.
Back and forth they dance;
in rhythm to the songs,
as upon the ethers;
the music of life rings.
Hear the ring, on the waves.
Ride the ethers and become one with each note.
Absorb life’s song and with all life…dance!
Originally Written: 3-2014
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Sestina
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My heart, it is a beating drum
and it dances to many a note.
This sweet, song plays;
by God, is recorded.
Part of the heavenly band;
a spiritual lilting light.
In Gods light,
my beating drum,
sings along with the band
rings out its notes.
A best-selling record,
finite, in its play.
A mortal song can play
within God’s holy light.
Celestial records,
with golden drums,
play the best notes
in Heaven’s band.
Every good band,
with unending passion, plays
the most dynamic notes;
uplifting tones of beaming lights.
Every drummer’s drum,
Is heard and recorded.
In Heaven’s studio, is recorded,
every soul-band.
when I play my drum;
oh how I play
vibrations of light;
celestial crystal notes.
Resounding, celestial notes
Ring on the etchers and are recorded
faster than the speed of light.
The history of Heaven’s band;
a soul’s music, can be played
upon their mortal drum.
Many notes dance in the celestial light.
Soul’s celestial records, will eternally play.
The happiest soul in the band; to the rhythm of life, will drum.
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Sestina
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We all wish to be called Alice
And fly into a land of true dreams.
We all feel like connecting to beyond
The lines our horizon speaks of
Against the never ceasing ideas
That life is as good as music.
We could walk along the varying tempos of this music
And wander in dreamland like Alice
Whose wonder ignites ideas
That drums our dreams
And strings we strum; talk of
In our heart and breathe beyond
We join ideas of here and beyond
Like the different parts of music
Which spots our heart as we hear of
The wonders that she, Alice
Lived in her very dreams;
A beautiful, welcoming ideas.
We sometimes swim in ideas
In symphonies without knowing beyond
The powers of our dreams
Which sounds sweeter than good music;
Wishing we could hold the hands of Alice,
The magical being we know of
And maybe whisper to her of
Happiness which is no more just ideas
That we float in at the mention of Alice
The one whose life was beyond
The grasp of music
We can only listen to in dreams
Yet, we still believe these dreams
Our hearts yearn for and beat of
Like the constant strumming of music
As a once sickly but made whole idea
Beyond
The stories we hear of Alice.
We remain envoys of good music
Just in style of a wonder; Alice
Who will always give life to our ideas.
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Sestina
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Land, sky and sea, sing their songs.
Land sings of rich soil, for growing seeds;
as the silvery sea,
sounds its gurgling waters.
It sings a medley to the blue
And cloud-puffed sky.
I lend my ears to that cloud-puffed sky;
listening to its songs.
At first, it makes me feel blue,
but joy quickly fills my heart-seed;
fed by spiritual rain-waters;
that ride the winds from the heavenly seas.
The wondrous, singing sea,
sings back to sky
and I enjoy the waters;
singing those sweet songs,
to the seeds in the soil and to seeds
like me, who get the blues.
As the sky of blue,
sings to the seas
and my seeds;
they stretch leaves to sky
and its wonderful song
intermingles, with that of the waters.
All seeds need water,
to relieve their thirst-blues.
I hum along with the songs,
that ride my souls seas
as they crescendo with heavenly sky’s;
to quench the thirst, of all Gods seeds.
I am a proud seed;
I drink spirit’s waters;
am nourished by Heaven’s sky,
of sacred blue
and silvery seas.
I am grateful for those songs.
I listen to the songs, that nourish all of God’s seeds.
I thank the Earth and seas for their generous, cleansing waters.
No longer do I feel blue and like my plants; I am also grateful to the Heavenly sky.
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Sestina
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The time has come to give some joy
To this sad and depressed world
To bring some happiness into hearts
Alike to young and old
Soft music to lift up the mood
And fragrant candles to light up darkness
The deep and impenetrable darkness
Will light up with joy
Bringing lightness to every mood
And the spirit of giving to this world
Caring for those persons old
With the trueness of heart
The spirit of this season in the hearts
Will demolish all darkness
The cheer felt by young and old
Will be seen by the passing joy
As it spread its cheer in this world
Uplifting everyone’s mood
This uplifted merry mood
Will cheer and brighten every heart
Happiness will reign in this world
No time for evil darkness
To meddle with supreme joy
When it shines brightly in the eyes of the old
Together we young and old
Will cheer away the sad mood
Dancing hand in hand with joy
With laughter brimming in our hearts
Forging away in darkness
To diminish it in this world
The brighter and better world
A safe haven for young and old
Life free of all darkness
Cheery and merry mood
Mellowness and kindness in every heart
Bringing to this universe some joy
To bring into hearts of this world some cheer
The mood out of darkness being uplifted
And into life of old some joy is given
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Sestina
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Oh, hear the rattle of the rolling train;
yhe clap…clap…clacking rhythm,
beating like a conga drum;
every trip it sings along,
with the tracks repeating song;
such simple, inexpensive music.
Listen to that music,
of the heart-beat, of the train.
Sing along, with its melodious song.
Come, join in the rhythm;
don’t you love, to sing along;
with the clack..clack…chugging, of that rolling drum.
Run and grab your bongo drums;
we’ll play a little music.
A grand neighborhood, sing-along,
to the rhythm of the train.
Oh, what a wondrous rhythm,
is the old, Iron Horse’s song.
In the heart’s, always a song;
the body’s beating drum.
It keeps on pounding out its rhythm;
the heart beats of its Chrystal music;
beats with tempo of the train’
just clap…clap…clacking, on along.
All the people sing along,
with the old Iron Horse’s thrilling songs.
If with instruments, you’re untrained;
perhaps you do not own a drum.
Still, you can join the music;
just clap your hands in rhythm.
Revel in that rhythm,
sing and play along.
Just be part of the music
and belt out your own song,
to your own heart’s rhythm
and that musical old train.
Lighten up that rhythm and revel in the music.
Have a glorious, sing-along, to the many beating drums.
There’s nothing quite as joyous, as the songs sung with the trains.
9-9-19
Your Choice Max 333 Words Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Caren Krutsinger
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Sestina
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I watched stars, as around me wound
the night like a shroud disturbed by wind,
and I wonder which will be first to bow,
that wretched wolf who takes moons lead,
or maiden alone with a single tear -
both swallowing dead things to live.
There is music settled on mountains, live
compositions that heal silences wound;
sutures to seal a ragged tear,
and I know this key can wind
to the point of springs break; lead
by times-arrow as it leaves God’s bow,
but should we gesticulate; bow
before this entity that only can live
while we believe. While we are lead
by fabulists words choking like vines wound
around sensibility, that ghost in the wind
bathed in a crystal tear,
and we are not planets intent to tear
through a void on ecliptic bow,
but merely motes as we wind
ever tighter, reaching for materialistic live,
even as we shed pus from putrid wound
our failure is where we are lead.
Do not follow me, do not let me lead,
I will rip faith from within without a tear,
watch your fear like ribbon un-wound
stream into oblivion and bow
to history. This, is not how we should live
like dust-devils, slaves to doctrine’s wind.
Oh sweet universe do you now wind
willfully without a fathers lead,
intent not to just exist, but to be a-live.
To reach into your soul and tear
Illusion out, string it to your bow
and loose its arrow back to that wound?
Disturbed by the wind I shroud a tear
for those who are lead to bend and bow,
trying to live through an open wound.
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Sestina
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My heart was broken
Scattered fragments, evidence of our clash
Drops of blood flowing down my face
Alone, wounded, bashed, my feeling
Out of tune, broken harmony, shattered peace
Cold eyes, a soul without music
No melody, my ears can’t hear the music,
Picture imperfect, our dreams are broken,
But something still clamors for peace
Even as our swords clash
Our war continues, enmity cherished as a feeling
Weakness and tiredness now wrap my once cheerful face
Blood trailing down, but I keep a bold face
War cries the new soul music
Now an unknown solitude is my feeling
Some semblance with a soldier broken
Broken walls, monuments destroyed signatures of our clash
I’m a victim yearning for peace
Buried six feet was now the hope of peace
Focused was our gaze upon an expressionless face
The ground quaked as the titans clash
The trumpets ever rising, happiness in war music
New resolve formed even from a heart now broken
I hold onto the last strand of the love-like feeling
She says, ever strong and true to my feeling
Like a still flowing river, my thoughts are serenaded with peace
A tear from my eyes reminds me my heart is broken
But unbroken is the radiation of love glowing on my face,
Like a beautiful orchestra his words to my ears are music
We let down our sword, ending the clash
Love, the new feeling, sealed swords never to clash
New music filled with melody, rejuvenated peace
As smiles return to our faces, we mend our hearts broken
Sean-Kelz™
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Sestina
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Strangers undulating with rhythmic ease
Igniting the air with ecstasy
While lights flash in spectacular colour
Hot breath creates an intensity
Of steam rising up through delirious sound;
While damp, red silk caresses my skin
Sweat beading on my baking skin
As I slip through the spaces with practiced ease
I am captured by the rapturous sound
Of collective want and ecstasy
Immersed in a world of fevered intensity
Exchanging black and white for oblivious colour
Feeling the music radiate wild colour
As I slide across his skin
His gaze, unmasking my passion and intensity,
Holds me with confident ease
Contact sparking transfixing ecstasy
Our words are lost in booming sound
The vibrations of his voice, a captivating sound
My eyes temporarily blinded by colour
I am clothed in a shiver of ecstasy
As his breath strokes my skin
Pulled together with incredible ease
By impetuous desire’s intensity
Our breath shallow, we move with intensity
Lost in overwhelming sound
Moving together with unfamiliar ease
Overtaken by scent, sensation and colour
Passion radiates from our skin
Building in agonizing ecstasy
The particles between us electric with ecstasy
The pumping music loses its intensity
As we lose the barriers between our skins
Touching with breathless sound
I feel the rising heat and colour
As our lips come together with ease
Our touching skin deadening all external sound
In the intensity of dark-lit colour
Our passionate ecstasy gives way to comforting ease
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Sestina
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I waited in the foam, alone on the coast.
You were who I waited for. Give
me songs in every key,
pining and desire; be a messenger
bringing love, and I will empty
my heart of everything but you. Skies rain
pleasure when I am with you; the colors drain
away, melting into hazy wetness. The coast,
that brink, stretches in my mind, empty
miles lacking everything. I forgive
the distance; I will send a messenger
to deliver parts of me like ivory keys
on a piano, and you will press the keys
with velvet fingers, you will strain,
letting the music ring as a messenger
to your love. My words coast
across time, floating confetti. I can forgive
the distance. This love won’t empty,
but fills like a warm mug of chamomile. I will empty
my heart of everything but you. Your keys
clink as you leave, as you forgive
my sleep, as your kisses fall like rain
pattering the distant beach, that coast
I left behind when you, a messenger
came to me and I let you in. A messenger
sent your love, filling empty
spaces in me with golden joy. I coast
into slumber, my worries now too clunky
to carry. I let them go, free from the reign
of nervousness, insecurity. I forgive
myself for being afraid, for giv-
ing into a kiss. Words are my messengers,
drenching you in a refreshing rain
of my love. I am giddy; I empty
my heart of everything but you. Your keys,
I hear them jingle from the far away coast.
I will forgive the miles, empty
of you. A messenger retrieves your keys,
while on the coast, it rains.
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Sestina
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Iberia, you took my breath away
with fiery gypsy spirit and romance;
with ancient Moorish history and grace;
with everything there is of you to see;
to hear and smell; to feel inside my soul.
Diversity lives splendidly in you!
The ancient cultures beckoned me to you
when, like the Romans, lured from far away,
I came to you and gave to you my soul,
partaking of your passion and romance.
I’d read of you in school and had to see!
How glad I was to come and know your grace.
A mosque in Cordoba reveals your grace,
but I would learn there is much more of you. . .
Cathedrals dressed in gold I was to see.
From palace walls, in awe I’d walk away
to find nearby - in gypsy caves - romance
in music. . . as Flamenco filled my soul!
With passion’s beat resounding in my soul,
I toured Seville, where ladies rode with grace
on horses with their toreadors! Romance
is in the air at Spanish fairs. And you
can make it hard for one to turn away
from all the magic offered there to see.
In northern parts of you, I was to see
The Pyrenees, whose beauty touched my soul,
quaint villages with mountain goats! Away
I went southeast then, greeted by more grace.
Along your coast, I saw a side of you
I grew to love, Valencia’s romance!
And in Madrid, I found my own romance,
a handsome Spaniard. Never would I see
his face again because, in leaving you,
I left him and a small part of my soul.
So much I’d not yet seen of all your grace,
but destiny was calling me away. . .
I yearn to feel romance inside my soul;
breathe history and see again your grace.
Enchanted land, you are so far away!
May 4, 2010 Now used for Thvia Shetley's Foreign Travel Contest
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Sestina
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It begins with the joy of giving birth
Continues even after the moment of death
Life, like the scope of all man's music
Opening and closing passages of love
Messages sung and carried on the wind
Written in the deepest part of the heart
That palpable place we call the heart
Emotion long before the first cry at birth
Scent of beginnings carried on the wind
Unable to imagine the notion of death
For her baby, mother's unconditional love
The crooning sound of her sweet music
The years pass, so changes the music
But not the forever melody in her heart
Children grow and so does her love
A bit different than the day of birth
But constant and hopeful until death
As perennial as blows the winter wind
A young man's story is written on the wind
With pen in hand he writes his own music
With hardly a thought of the canvas of death
But tucked away in the corners of his heart
The certainty known from the moment of birth
That in her life he would always find love
Still his mother's eyes are filled with love
Vision dim with age , acknowledging time in the wind
The spring will bring again the miracle of birth
The lambs in the fields will make their music
The joy of rebirth will fill the simplest heart
Beauty will reign even in winter's death
Facing now the certainty of her coming death
He looks at his child with a new depth of love
Knowing with certainty that breaks his heart
Letting his tears be dried by the gentle wind
Believing he will still know the joy of her music
Hoping that in death will come a new birth
Garner strength in your heart to face death
Remembering from birth a life full of the joy of love
And as the wind of time blows, hear the music
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Sestina
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With day full of sleep, moon falls in the river.
Its beams danced on water with shadows of trees
to a beat of rhythm from wind till it died
and buried in music of quietness of night.
With perfume of flowers giving weight to air
cool of dark beauty night’s peace granted prayer.
Cathedral as reverent as echoed Lords prayer
as gentle as songs by frogs from the stream.
Harmony hanging in a gemstone sharp air,
with touch of sadness as dim sparklers in tyrees
while chirping of crickets brings richness to night
This will be the hour which wretchedness died.
The stars in the heaven pronounces day's death,
still speaks of the coming of fresh morning prayer
as glorious moon-glow reigns above night
while weak light reflects off bountiful river
twinkling in beams through branches of trees,
gives a roar of stillness through paper thin air.
The sky and the dark and the shadows of air
The river, moon and the sun as it died.
As leaves slowly descend from generous trees.
An answer it seems to nights granted prayers
it all means little to approaching rivers
which has born witness of deceit of the night.
So quick in the darkness will charge storms of night?
Critical lighting strikes in tranquilized air
heaved by the wind once magnanimous river
thunder and rain, wind and foreboding of dead
comes terror and fear and murmuring prayers
amongst shacking of limbs and bowing of trees.
Fierce is the storm and with uprooting of trees
as wind rips and cries through cover of darkness.
All creatures will witness the dark Devil’s prayer
as thunder splits atoms of wild burdened air.
The night cannot sleep till storm’s ferry dies
and silence of night returns to the rivers.
Storms of the night and night’s peace granted prayer.
Shadows of trees and moonbeams on the river
but rising of sun will bring death to night’s air.
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Sestina
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I seize time when funky drummer songs break
into my body robbing feeling of nerves making me fly
off floors with hips bouncing and shoes sweeping soot on concrete
I leave my history on any ground wherever I scuff my hands
and greet earth beneath me made of cement and sand
roughening calluses in
my upper palm and never do I feel more alive in
doing anything other than breaking
dancing on the floor that my fingers sand
with blood thrashing through my veins till I push and fly
legs flailing toward the moon; only my hands
feel this field of concrete
within the hour, ridges of concrete
rub against my knuckles as I guzzle in
air gasping for breaths that hit my hands
feeling this warmth pat me does nothing more than break
any possibility that I might be dreaming, flying
somewhere or dead drifting with sand
dirt smears its calligraphy in an ink of sand
when my shoes scrape concrete
markings on the floor inscribe stories and time flies
I see scratches my palms and shoes make in
a canvas of floors where I dance till the break
of dawn meditating with music, the bandage of my hands
I read life through my hands
brush rubble or throw sand
dancing off feelings of being lonely breaking
nostalgia of home because I can find that in concrete
the ground teaches me of pain on my skin or inside
my mind as I wander into a song flying
and falling over pebbles that gash my flesh blood flying
all directions and while wiping blood from my hands
I feel my age seeping the years I keep anxiety in
on a path of exhaustion counting thuds of my heart with sandpaper
hands I forge on concrete
I will slide-spin-tap the floor in harmony breaking
my life into stories of me dancing in all worlds I touch, showing the world my broken
rhythm in handling pain with hands pressed on floors people walk on in concrete
cities where I fly into freedom, puffing out, dying breaths, and taking all, breaths of life, in
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Sestina
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Embracing Poetry
Freedom on the lam, where the poet sings
To hearts that are imprisoned against their will,
Inspires the bereaved mind to spring to life
And uplifts hearts to bloom and burst liberated
When the pain of incarceration ceases.
“Gloria excelsis” in the world.
Frolic away, poet, and tell the world,
Encouraging bosoms to join in song,
Birthing new beginnings where weed growth ceases;
And let fresh hope generate unfalt'ring wills
Smothered with deeds abounding with liberties;
Death is certain, but poetry is life.
Martyrs forced into cages forfeit their lives
While conquerors plant flags around the world,
Stealing wealth, and curtailing liberties,
And muzzling the lips of those who would sing
Of freedom’s great joy without broken will,
With gladness boasting liberty’s song ceaselessly.
Were I to stretch the cage’s bars ‘til strength ceased
And purge authority aspersing my life
And mock their failure to immure my will,
As I sail poetic rhymes in the world
With hearts of fellow poets yearning to sing
Vociferously with new liberties.
But destiny’s path squashes liberty,
And lungs collapse when inflation ceases.
If evil is not rebuffed, who will sing the babe
To sleep with dreams of a future life obtained
Through sacrifices for Erato’s world,
Inheriting bold character and will?
Still, they rehearse scripts to truncate my will
With mulct and abrogate my liberty,
But not you, dear poet. Nix not of this world,
Whose toes skip over bloomed fields while mine cease
To dance in delight to the verse of life—
Ill speak they your name, forbidding me to sing.
Ere my will dims, indulge me with a song
Describing life’s passion for liberty;
Let my heartbeat cease in joy from the world.
***
Notes:
Gloria excelsis (Latin): Glory in the highest.
Erato: muse (Greek mythology) of lyric and poetry.
Urania: muse (Greek mythology) of music, song, and dance.
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Sestina
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She holds you spellbound, tempts every sigh,
her voice sedutive by its lullabye,
Her meaning envoking the unspoken word
Ever tender the call of her lovesong
This angel who thrives on the air of your breath
The movements of her heavenly rhythm
Closer calls the invitation to feel her rhythm
Succumb to her female sigh
Ever so gently she releases her breath
The gentle sleep of her restful lullabye
Bequiled you fall to the music of her lovesong
With nothing more than the unspoken word
What secret does she keep so closely guarded? the unspoken word
The mystery of her movements swaying to her rhythm
How could a mortal man resist such a lovesong
His resolve given in a surrendering sigh
Returning his words in anticipation of her lullabye
He barely manages to catch his breath
His chest bursting with the urgency to take a breath
Her eyes adoring yet still there's the unspoken word
Her song intensifys a passionate lullabye
The wind caressing nature to respond in rhythm
His need urgent as he pleads with loving sigh
He know's the ending of this Angel's lovesong
This captivation held by the chorus of her lovesong
How could such an angelic understand yet allow such loss of breath?
Again his strength fails him as he hears the relentless sigh
A language alien yet familiar, the assurances of the unspoken word
Delicately the harps resound the perfect rhythm
As his soul escapes to listen evermore to the enchanting lullabye
The sensations of her sound unbearable as she continues her lullabye
What kind of music is this she sings, this immortal lovesong
That holds a mystery unto itself, the defiance of her rhythm
Still he holds to his last dying breath
As she witholds the saving grace of the unspoken word
And all he can do is sigh
As this lovesong continues to play, immersed within the lullabye
His breath weakened to the faintest heartfelt sigh
Surrendering completely to her rhythm, the beauty revealed, the unspoken word.
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Sestina
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Every one of my five brothers
and I strive to create harmony.
Our lives are lived in parallel
yet at times we work alone.
Other times we play well together -
unity and coexistence is our goal.
A chord can bring us together
into a rich and soulful harmony.
We often seek concord in parallel
so no one is left alone;
expressive music is our end goal,
a desire shared by six brothers.
Django Reinhardt, who often played alone,
had mastery over all us brothers,
as do Los Romeros playing together,
creating a family of classical harmony.
Andrés Segovia with his ambitious goal,
worked with composer Rodrigo in parallel.
Great rock guitarists with their goal
of playing fantastic music in parallel:
Lennon, McCartney, and Harrison playing together;
the Eagles soaring in amazing harmony;
Clapton; Jimmy Page; the Allman Brothers;
or Hendrix playing incendiary solos alone.
Bring your friends, sisters and brothers
to a concert - don't come alone!
You'll meet people who have parallel
interests to your own. Dance together
as music plays. Our common goal
should be brotherhood and world harmony!
Each string of a guitar, alone
can make a melody. But harmony
exists only by functioning in parallel,
cooperatively. Let this be our goal:
for human beings to work together,
recognizing that we are all brothers.
My brothers and I aren't alone.
In parallel lives, our main goal
is to work together, making harmony.
[Sestina]
// A sestina is a non-rhyming poem consisting of six six-line stanzas and a three-line envoy. The last word of each line in stanza 1 is repeated in all of the following stanzas. The envoy contains all six repeating words. To emphasize the theme of "Six Relatives", I have also made each line exactly 6 words. Additionally, I began stanzas 1-6 with the letters of the six guitar strings: E, A, D, G, B, E. One final note: the "ambitious goal" of Andrés Segovia and Joaquín Rodrigo was to make the guitar a respected instrument in the classical repertoire. They succeeded!//
Written 16 Nov 2020
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Sestina
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My dreams were that of nothing but your kiss.
A lingering essence soothing frayed edges of my heart.
Heaven couldn’t breach the wonder of your touching
hands. They tickle memories invoked by the scent of your breath
against my cheek. This is but the taste I crave every night, every time
I feel days too long since you’ve returned the other half of my soul.
The awe and wonder will never cease, mated souls
Destiny declared to me, that our love and fated kiss
could bring forth in our lives eternities timeless
bliss. I never knew that which seemed to be a heartless
world would provide a love that would become my very breath;
for surely I would die each night if I couldn’t wake and touch
your beautiful lips. For they are but the substance that touches
me to this world. They spew forth the nectar that feeds my soul.
With you I am Queen Nivea, crowned in baby’s breath
about my brow. A midnight summer's eve of magic kissing
the air about our pallet. In sleep I hear our heart
strings shimmering our own melodious melody of half time.
In you arms my slumber is light, every time
you nuzzle my nape, asleep yourself, your touch
stirs my blood from half doze to a stuttered heart
soaring reach. It's the dust of twilight that moves soul
music through our heated blood. Your fluttered kisses
wafts into this hot dream to wake me with a fairies breath
riding my senses like white fire. Though our breathing
may be labored, this is not a frenzied moment, languish in time
and savor the bouquet of miracles brushing your moon kissed
back. Miracle that you are the only one who could soften my touch
from the warrior I tried to be. You alone brought life to a soulless
husk; the balm and solvent that softened my calloused heart.
Now fully aware I reach to find your heart
beat, and find it shuddering to the pace of my breath.
Caress the plane of my face and nape as our souls
unite. Whisper the language of lovers every time.
Just never stop this Shakespearean dream touched
eve, our very reality exist based on this kiss.
Though our hearts beat in all consuming time,
your the force of my breath. You are my grace touched
body of life, my soul, who feeds this void with a kiss.
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Sestina
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My day starts with a cup of tea hot
Its steam ‘n steamy headlines in papers help boil the day’s plot
Nine to five make all efforts to achieve my day’s aims
Mind and body both it usually strains
Motto is to stick as far to the present
weaving past and future into its crescent.
Romance in evening is aided by the moon crescent
Red wine shots make it more hot
After dinner it is time to reassess the present
Tomorrow somehow sneaks into the plot
A warm shower helps to drain the day’s strains
Helping me renew my energy and aims.
I retire to my study to fulfill my imagery aims
To indulge in poems while admiring the moon’s crescent
which plays hide and seek with the clouds, and my eye strains
The scene in which the cupid’s arrows start hitting her hot
I get charged and run to find my own love’s plot
find her at terrace as she viewed the moon crescent at present.
Dreams of love and happiness we give each as present
But how does that help in the achievement of aims?
I try to scratch my head but do not get the plot
For the things of heart have invisible connection with moon crescent
The resulting low and high tides blow us cold and hot
In equal measure, causing us happiness and strains.
I try to sleep counting my happiness but wishing away the strains
I also pray to god that I stay rooted in the present
Over so many days I learnt not to worry unless iron is hot
this can happen if we get clear cut ability to decipher those damn aims
but things start to get hazy when out comes the moon crescent
and my attention gets tuned to the music that bush crickets yonder plot.
Falling off to sleep I am forced to loosen the strings of my plot
Off I meander on slopes which sprout flowers of different strains
From the slopes I can jump and closer feel the glow of the crescent
Becoming the king and receiving the queens in present
Having achieved everything I am left with no more aims
That is when I wake up to see next day’s sun turning hot.
Plotting the day’s programme again requires mind to be present
strains and stresses apart keeping a focus on the charted aims
Crescent moon providing the romantic touch later, with these expectations hot.
12.6.2014
Contest The Sestina Challenge
Sponsor: Jared Pickett
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Sestina
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A vortex of wind dancing, with drums of thunder Waltzing, plunders the lands it turnsA partner revolves around the twisterThunderous beats escort the funnel cloudsDarkness split by flashes of lightning,The music and tone are set, for the cyclone Calm eyes in the storm amidst a lethal cycloneas in the tune of another drummer, this thunder,Thunderstorms of awe, so this dance turnsBeholding beautiful hues, of an intemperate twisterRed with dust this wonder, from the cloudsDarker still at night,from fright of lightning, Nightmares clash with the lightning,so goes a chaotic song, of the cycloneOn the hills, spinning to outbursts of thunderWinter dreams as the snow white whirl turnsIronic sisters are the natures of a twisterBefore the aftermath of the disastrous clouds, after beauty does cease, from benevolent cloudsMasters of destruction, with cracks of lightingEtching the land, as upheaval follows the cyclonelike locust and frogs, now plagues do thunder,as if, showing its true colors, when the tornado turnsOnce a beautiful sight to behold was this twister but destruction and misery follow the proud twister,Righteous job found out, from the passing clouds, Angels of light fall like the lightningNations are overturned, by the deadly cyclonebut as God’s love changes the sons of thunder, Tribulation and patience take their turns, The world continues, with all of its turns, The sun blisters, fire whirls like a twisterAwaiting true beauty, from the cloudsSuddenly, shining from east to west, like the lightningA world without death and a deceptive cycloneWe dance in the clouds, shouting victory like thunder Beauty turns as fast as lightningdancing clouds reveal the twisterA deadly cyclone roars with thunder
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Sestina
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In bustling cities where dreams take flight,
Amidst the chaos, people strive and sway,
A tapestry of faces, colors bright,
Unity in diversity, a sight divine,
In every heart, a love beyond compare.
In boardrooms where deals are made, economy's flair,
Innovation sparks, ambitions take flight,
A nation rising, with momentum rare,
Economic prowess, a symbol divine,
In every venture, an opportunity rare.
In verdant fields where crops grow, agriculture's might,
Beneath the sun's embrace, fields green sway,
Farmers toil, from dawn till night,
Feeding the nation, a task divine,
In every harvest, a bounty rare.
In temples of learning, knowledge's light,
In classrooms and libraries, minds take flight,
A quest for wisdom, burning bright,
Scholars and students, seekers divine,
In every discovery, a revelation rare.
In dance and music, culture's delight,
In theaters and galleries, arts take flight,
A celebration of heritage, colors bright,
Traditions alive, in every step divine,
In every performance, a story rare.
In ancient rituals, tradition's might,
In temples and shrines, prayers take flight,
A legacy passed down, through ages bright,
In every ceremony, a connection divine,
In every ritual, a reverence rare.
In streets adorned, festivals' delight,
In markets and homes, joys take flight,
A kaleidoscope of celebrations, colors bright,
In every festivity, a spirit divine,
In every gathering, memories rare.
In uniforms clad, military's might,
In borders and frontiers, courage takes flight,
Defenders of the nation, in battles bright,
In every sacrifice, a valor divine,
In every victory, a tribute rare.
In monuments grand, history's sight,
In palaces and forts, stories take flight,
A testament to glory, shadows bright,
In every stone, a legacy divine,
In every carving, a tale rare.
In streets bustling, diversity's might,
In every corner, cultures take flight,
A melting pot of traditions, colors bright,
In every encounter, a harmony divine,
In every embrace, a unity rare.
In moments of triumph, victory's sight,
In stadiums and arenas, dreams take flight,
A nation united, hearts beat bright,
In every cheer, a spirit divine,
In every triumph, a jubilation rare.
So let us cherish India's delight,
In every aspect, her glory takes flight,
A nation proud, her spirit bright,
In every heart, her essence divine,
In every moment, her beauty rare.
Written by Moonlit Whisper
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Sestina
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The Adventures Of Johnny Quest
Hey, Haji, it's Johnny, I've a new game, so come on over.
Okay Johnny I'll be right over, I'm leaving now, see you soon.
I wonder what sort of new game that he has, most intriguing.
Hi there Haji. So where is this new game, it is most exciting.
Come in here quickly, or they'll see ya! Who will see me Johnny?
(Barking) Quiet Bandit, or they'll hear ya! Who'll hear us?
Ahem! Just as I suspected...Johnny, you've tricked me again!
Where's the Professor? Dad's in the lab. What's up, Johnny?
Dad's been in the lab all morning, and when I went over,
He talked with Race about something to do with the two of us?
I couldn't hear clearly. The birds were chirping. Most intriguing?
Why I am included? Were they speaking unmoving or exciting?
Well, since it is about you and me, we will learn about it soon.
Hope it is a good thing for we have done some bad, the both of us.
I hear ya Haji, I don't wanna be a bad kid. That's not very exciting.
Maybe we broke a thing in dad's lab and he's mad? Most intriguing!
Or perhaps all of this is for naught? Do you think so Johnny?
Yeah, it's just a big ado, whether it's good or bad, it'll be over.
All of this wondering and pondering, we do this time and again.
Seems that trouble follows like a shadow, I say, most intriguing.
But I must agree with you, all of this hubbub, I say, 'tis exciting.
Believe you me, if it'd be rain or shine, you're still my friend Johnny.
Thanks Haji! You're still my friend too! Don't worry, it'll be over soon.
How do you know that? Race is coming to the door, he'll be calling us.
Oh he's heading out the back door! I wonder where he's going again?
He came back before with a big bag and some other stuff--(intriguing)
I wonder what sort of stuff they'd be, whilst there'd be talk of us?
Yes, indeed, why would that be? A twist of a story, should be exciting.
I hope so Haji, I don't want to disappoint dad. Don't worry Johnny.
We'll wait till Race comes back, and face the music, it'll end soon.
There's Race, (barking), quiet Bandit--oh, too late, he saw us.
Stay away from the lab, don't go too far, we'll call the both of you soon.
What's going on? I can't, just do as I say! Don't let me say it again.
Say, was that new game to be nothing but ruse to get me, Johnny?
Yeah Haji, sorry. Dad! Okay boys come on in, it's going to be exciting.
(Dad & Race) Happy Birthday! I forgot 'tis my birthday! Most intriguing!
'Tis exciting to say again, Happy Birthday Johnny! 'Twas entangled in
the flurry, 'twas naught about us, per se, soon a year passes then it'll be
over. (Barking) Thanks Bandit! Haji 'tis the new game--most intriguing!
2019 June 09
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