Nimbus sheathes, laden heart's dark swamps.
Gush the insides out, a hollow, eerie remain.
Crimson cascade moat round, forbid ramps.
Notions of brick and steel, power's sweet regain.
A firm cage hedges all woes of time's sharp pain.
Blithe strides bridge the cracks, prove feasible still.
No doors, no windows, locked in impossible will.
Categories:
sheathes, angst, art, blue, dark,
Form: Rhyme Royal
"One More Monchielle Stanza"
This January day
I took a pleasant walk.
It’s sixty-one degrees.
I’m relishing this time
before the brutal freeze.
This January day
from my front porch I hear
young children play outside.
Jack Frost is coming soon.
His breath we can’t abide.
This January day
I’ll fill my shopping list,
for I won’t venture out
when highs are in the teens
and ice sheathes every route.
This January day
is much like all the rest
for those who have to work.
Ice storms, they can’t avoid;
their duties, they can’t shirk!
Categories:
sheathes, weather, winter,
Form: Monchielle Stanza
“Nocturnal silk sheathes the woods,
moon dust laces lattice on lush leaves,
fireflies flash on the trail of dream”. By Poet
The opaque film of darkness spreads silently
out of the cauldron of infinite emptiness,
that the sky shapes at the edge of the dwindling dusk,
its condensed vestige configures the amorphous night.
The black tapestry stretches the silken swathe
to the hinge of the hazy horizon where twilight dissolves
like the rainbow melting on the skyline,
from where the satin shade flows to form the fluid night.
The sound of sensual silence echoes in the night sky,
wakes up the sleeping stars to sparkle bright
on the bejeweled crown adorning the amorous ambiance,
with the moonbeam strands I weave the dream of you.
In the stardust sprinkled sapphire night I see you
emerge out of my dream like an angel,
and walk in the craving corridor of my mind,
my love embraces you with nocturnal charm.
_______________
March 22, 2023
Word used : Nocturnal
Contest : Writing Challenge - "N" Words
Sponsored by : Constance La France
Categories:
sheathes, analogy, dream, night,
Form: Free verse
You, he and I; we are not alike
Human we’re akin to our rights
Fingers are not equal by nature
For using purpose these are fair
Many minds many choices it’s fact
On earth colorful varieties are tact
Variety is beautiful, not discrimination
We enjoy all as our mind gratification
Glove is garment can cover hand bare
It has separate sheathes for each finger
But mitten is a type of glove in two trims
One for thumb and one for rest four limbs
Gloves offer better dexterity than mittens
Oh, equality and equity are not same trend
©Mahtab Bangalee
Chattogram
17/01/2023
Categories:
sheathes, caregiving, clothes,
Form: Free verse
Glowing Ash of yesterday's leaves,
crumble as they fall upon skin,
wrapped within your satire sheathes,
the sadness behind a leering grin,
the embers from burning leaves,
twirling across the sky upon the gust,
wind rushing through and trailblazing,
like hate and pain giving way to lust,
within the glows is were a phoenix rose,
flaming feathers rekindling the blaze,
behind eyelashes witnessing my world turn to ashes, a godless wrath from yesterdays.
Martin Eoghan 25/06/22
Categories:
sheathes, anger, character, dark, emo,
Form: Free verse
Grief seethes deep in mangled mind,
pained heart sinks in dark abyss,
divine light sheathes soul enshrined,
blessed essence gets calm solace of bliss.
__________________
March 24, 2022
Syllable count : 7779
Checked on howmanysyllables.com
Contest : LIND30 Rhyme
Sponsored by : Chantelle Anne Cooke
Categories:
sheathes, feelings, god, grief, light,
Form: Verse
Slowly sneaking through the leaves,
Paw by paw with claws in sheathes.
The lynx is lurking through a cell diploid,
Of whence the light and aether void.
A cat that links the cracks in time and space,
Prowls 'tween worlds with steady pace.
Categories:
sheathes, cat, dream,
Form: Couplet
Crispy leaves of Autumn
as autumn sheathes in
red and gold of senescence
leaves do the talking...
Written Sept 15th, 2016
For contest "leaves talking" by John Lawless
Categories:
sheathes, autumn, beauty,
Form: Haiku
The angel Michael fell deep into his despair,
he shed his wings of light,
until he was bloodied and bare.
Broken - he cursed all things,
hope fled with his belief,
he ripped his weapons from his sheathes,
and turned them on the world.
I sat with feathers twined in my hair,
with sadness and kindness in my eyes I stared,
and he saw right past me,
As if I were never there,
Broken – and wishing I could save the world.
I unleashed my weapons,
help them in my hands,
and asked what use is love,
If we even had a chance.
He cut me with daggers on his tongue,
I won't lie, I admit his sword stung,
When he sliced them across my chest,
I was almost touched with regret,
but I knew my mission - I am love.
I won't let him drowned in the dark.
So I watched Michael fall and Gabriel too,
I watched the Angels fight and I watched them lose,
I saw darkness sweep, across their brows,
I stayed silent and wept as I heard them call out.
What could I do when the dark was nearly done,
but wait till the sunrise to fill them with love,
and the angel Michael fell deep into despair,
I saw him become lost - I was there.
Categories:
sheathes, angel, love,
Form: Free verse
I slip on sapphire's sundress
flowing like cool cotton sky.
Golden stole sheathes bare shoulders
as I glide on hammock clouds.
By Rhonda Johnson-Saunders, August 29, 2012
for Hammock of Sky in Tanaga Contest (Nette Onclaud)
Categories:
sheathes, fantasy, nature,
Form: Verse
Hams of August Smother
The folks are angry, really.
They can’t explain the diaper,
yet they would explain poor Jack.
It’s a plot, you see, to show
poor Jack’s been had.
Folks can’t see why
no matter what Jack does,
even if he scrubs
in water warm enough
to soften turnips,
sheathes himself
in eaus, colognes,
dons, perhaps, a silk of talc,
folks can’t see why the night
still squats on Jack,
jiggling its hams
of August smother.
Or why the cleric in the courtyard
chants, ”Elements of Jack
will always reek.”
It’s a plot, you see, to show
poor Jack’s been had. That’s why
the folks are angry, really;
they can’t explain the diaper,
yet they would explain poor Jack.
Donal Mahoney
Categories:
sheathes, philosophyaugust,
Form: Free verse