Short Chronicle Poems

Over our dead love
all leaves of cosmic time fall
eternal tears too...

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Life’s an ocean of mysterious chronicle 
That flows in a tide of eternal change...

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Mystify my chronicle in your cloud of passion
Intertwine our humble universe in one ration
Slowly pass the time to make the ascension
Thus our love is the greatest invention....

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to present
      a chronicle
perhaps
     a curtain..
to be
       unveiled
or
a painting
       to complete:
a lyric
   still to write,
 music
        to delight...
...carpe diem...

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to present
      a chronicle
perhaps
     a curtain..
to be
       unveiled
or
a painting
       to complete:
a lyric
   still to write,
 music
        to delight...
...carpe diem...

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All along I thought Mo's new moniker
Was “Pigeon Toed” from the “Feathered Chronicle”
But I just realized
“Tart” was more idealized
Hope you'll forgive me my happy frolicker...

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A chronicle of amazing grace
To change the human race-
Just William they called him,
Persistence helped him win
This triumph over sin.


William Wilberforce (1759-1833)-of abolishing slave trade saga Filmed 2007...

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pillow
      words
       and
epithets,
legends
       plays
surround
    the saints
    of
      poetry:
long songs,
      little
           songs,
collected
in verbal
    simplicity..
..and
     exclamation...

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Double Haikus

This warm CA spring
The exaggerated fears
Flu kills more every year
.

All fear death blood sells
All God's goodness forgotten
Sucked in by media hell


       February 28, 2020
          7:30am PST

...

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CHRONICLR
a romantic
  advance
insisted
 .discerned
catalogued
  unstated

an elegant
  treatise
formal
& artificial
intricately
   disposed
in
a natural
circumstance
partial
& uncertain
smooth
uniform
& unconstrained...

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Time and time again I loved you.
In this lifetime
I know you only by sight
like the river
who knows the way to the sea.

Love travels mystic planes
seeking to find and chronicle
that magic moment
when two spirits reach karma
and abide....

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With this pen
I have lived once more

And with this pen
I have loved, laughed, sighed to breathe
Even as I laid my weary brow to rest upon your breast

And with this pen
I have died with a tear
To leave behind this chronicle to my last
With this pen...

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Sometimes its okay to feel low,
it’s an ordinance of life
to make you acquainted of rife
that it is inevitably strident to grow.

It’s his expedient to steer you 
to see the life’s chronicle view.
See the vivid blue-sky,
be stance budding warrior it’s time to fly....

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Time is a parse of moments – 
each life a chronicle of ticks
and tocks, our deeper mystery often
obscured by the clang of our clutter – 

we live by terms like stops and starts...
the in and out racket of hearts – truth 
somewhere impaled amidst the overlooked
silence, shouted down by riotous echoes...

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I have Already past 60
now it pleases me
bow to wisdom
of those who secure
that it will rain
and that will it deliver me
sweet memories from
the one I loved so much...
are memories
from 30 years ago
when in the green years
I threw myself to love !
I am glad to realize
that the rain turns,
even if she does not come together  !...

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Lissome blossom, 
Look that shook,
Exchange on a long range,
Embrace with grace,
Kiss as if a bliss,
Infection of affection,
Dove like love,
Life without strife,
Material as well as immaterial,
Its flow sweet slow,
Rare care,
Together with no bother,
Understanding outstanding,
Happy and zappy,
They lived sipping nectar forever....

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The small things
That do not matter
At that time
Trivial anecdotes
Embellish our lives
Like a play that emotes
Part of our chronicle
That keeps us afloat
During troubled times.

As we recall
Events of the past
Regardless of importance
It brings some balance
With a smile
A moment of nostalgia
And a sense of warmth
A port for an
Emotional storm....

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From the opaque depth of the dark space
rises the beguiling blue disc, half obscure,
of mother earth showing its gleamed face
to the cratered barren moonscape to lure
with sapphire beauty of common ancestry,
a saga in the chronicle of celestial history.



September 29, 2019
Contest : Make It Six
Sponsor : Joseph May
Image chosen : #3...

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Involute ascendency of an omniscient detriment encased a 
crystalline fragility fragmenting. Yearning a periphery absolved 
stains the insidious chronicle red. A fading feeling of self 
treason is absolute utopia asunder. Subtly i digress yet 
paramount is this polarity diverse within me. Caged withing a 
translucent spirit my voracious depths untold stagnate abound....

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Strumming the four strings,
Got my fingers vibrating,
Those jingled nerve endings,
And reached my spine and brain,
The tones that came out,
Were melodious and sweet,
They tingled my ear drums,
It reached brain and perhaps spine,
And felt good,
I continued to strum,
And noticed nearby ears “tingled” too,
Man makes music,
Music makes man too,
Believe it- in many senses its true....

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This website
Won’t reach his sight
Despite
The invite,

That’s why 
Without hesitation,
A good explanation
And careful observation

I can come to say
He won’t come today
Won’t ever read this essay
Isn’t that so cliche

...

I sit here and rhyme
And he don’t give a dime
Is that such a crime
Cuz I don’t mind

Merely found it comical
That I can write my chronicle
Hiding
In plain sight.
...

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No love could I write
without your name – 
my world the sum of
your letters. No word
desire I say nor hear,
if not spoken and the
return your echo – for
the air carries what is
impressed on the heart,
recited by both common
folk and sages – and moonlight 
has been a chronicle of snuggles
throughout affection's written ages – 

While my favorite title needs 
no other script, than Ila
across all pages –...

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An inner wish or necessity,two roads
with a single goal.From this earthly eye
a crystal cluster of memories..happy&sad
symbolic and passionate springing forth from 
twilight lethargy to become a pictorial chronicle
of life giving vitality..realism revealed

Hear me recite from my 4100+ PS anthology on youtube under my pen nameichthyschiro..

catch my short forms @strandpoet on twitter..

read my kindle guides on amazon...

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Evicted from her garden by
a knowledge never sought,
was she villain, then, or victim in
a play that time forgot?

When tempted by an evil
bearing legendary fruit
did hunger conquer innocence?
Can history refute

this yarn of human weakness that
has passed from ancient times?
Is this a tale of simple truth
or fodder for our rhymes;

is it myth or could it be
a tapestry we weave
to chronicle the promise-- or
apocalypse of Eve?...

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I'm going to paint a picture,
Not with paint or colored chalk.
I'm going to paint a picture
In just the way, I talk.

Got to use some colorful words
Like chronicle, hordes and heeds.
Words that smell and taste and hear,
It's like growing a garden from seeds.

Poetry is more than words on paper.
It must show the reader the entire scheme.
So their minds can see it so clearly
And it reads just like a dream!


Now to practice what I preach!...

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