Short Dais Poems

They don’t walk to them
To beseech their shows of hands
They as a rule stay
On a raised dais and talk down
At their feet on crusade grounds...

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Skilled songbird on a fence stump.
Diva on a dais!
Ensuring, for what's brought, more'ore
Of grandness to the fore

Whilst lit of morn, from behind
Are facing, window-bright
Bed's uprisen, roused in the heart
Swollen praise on our part....

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Stigmatized.
A drone kills a dove.
An aphrodisiac ?

Bashing the ground,
cajoling the sky.
Trapped in bed,

coupling in amber.
You want to rein in
moon, for a shout ?

And weather had the
wasness of a glory.
You wanted to change the gender ?

Would not go near the dais.
Somebody
was burning the doors


Satish Verma...

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I thought I found love.
I thought happiness came true.
But now I’m confused 
More than ever.

I thought the sun would shine,
I thought the rain had stopped.
But my dais remain to be grey.

I’m at lost for words,
I’m out of thoughts,
I’m covered in total darkness,
I’m freezing cold,
I’m blind in the dark
And all I do is pray
For light to bring day....

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I’m a teacher today 
’Cause I was mortally afraid of the species.
In my dream once, I met a magician
And begged him to turn me into a teacher!
Now I strut up and down the dais 
And kids off the dais are all praise
They only don’t know 
How ignorant I am
Or what drove me to this calling.
When asked, I should only bluff 
And say I was inspired!

                                     — Ram, R. V....

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SHE WALKS

See how she seems to glide across the floor.  Sheer poetry in motion in heels of fashionable height she waltzes toward the podium in fluid elegance.  All eyes are upon her every step.  With the greatest of ease, she ascends the dais and begins to address the audience displaying the same confidence in her message as in her elegant walk.  She is the lady of the hour.

1 June 2018
For the contest sponsored by Julia Ward...

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Piled up high, infinitely great,
    a crushing weight

Remove? No angel army can,
    no mortal man

A gaze, not one, down from that throne,
    could bear alone

Guilt oozed your pores, stifled all moans,
    then from the dais, to your side,
    with arms spread wide, He cast aside 
A crushing weight no mortal man could bear alone

—————

an Ovillejo: https://www.writersdigest.com/write-better-poetry/ovillejo-poetic-form...

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Dais 88 here in Olds.
The new" Envision"
is more than a concept
it is the guiding light to
tomorrow.
those better days to
 come. "We have our
thing together!"
the Cardiff kast,
a concept of
hydromatication.
 The princley kuhio.
The property and matarail
is called density
extrat this
todorokite
romanechite
biranessite
managanes
liersteinarahitasteinar
karbonateteinar
kvarssteinar
Iridiurm
Scandium
Yttrium
Iron Sulfide
Ima (ex) Au...

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the winners place in glory
standing on the dais
receiving your olive wreath

you participate in the game
repeating your mantra
mentally pushing yourself on

your opponents are skilled
hitting their stride long before you
practiced excellence

but you persevere
blinders to the completion
in your own zone

and in the end
there can only be one winner
one true champion

but you are only the loser
if you throw your hands up,
quit and walk away...

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If night were a person,
She would break all the stereotypes,
From being known as dark and gloomy,
From inducing fear and discomfort,
To a void of opportunities.
If night were a person,
She would narrate all the opportunities she creates,
From letting the stars to shine their glory,
From providing the moon a dais to show off her beauty,
To the never ending inspiration for poets and artists.
Night is not a competition to Day,
Never has been
For she is a thousand leagues above him....

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