Short Mélange Poems
Short Mélange Poems. Below are examples of the most popular short poems about Mélange by PoetrySoup poets. Search short poems about Mélange by length and keyword.
Motif mélange
turns in patterned time wheel.
Rhapsody spectrum designs dreams,
spinning in mental grip.
Cloned snapshots fuse.
mélange of colors paints grey sky on wake of winter…joy springs to life
January 20, 2019
Syllable count : 17
Checked on howmanysyllables.com
Cat in a circle sleeps
A mélange of black, white, orange and cream
Body rises and falls~ feline ripples and dreams
June 4, 2019
7pm PST
SUNSET SWANSONG-:-
twilight
tinseled
melody
nothingness
signpost
at NEBULOUS FUTURE FRINGE
resounds
ambiguity
requiem
memory
mélange
of FADING SPECTRAL FRESCO
metamorphosed
dream
concerto
swansong
symphony
A
path to
harmony
is one adorned
with vermilion hues.
Pumpkin leaves, remnants of
summer’s verdant colors now
drifting through the woodland splendor
through argentine skies, unified, a mélange
of the magnificence autumn bestows.
©2011 Connie Marcum Wong
With life’s motif mélange
time wheel turns in last lap.
Dreams’ scenic spectrum shifts,
spins captured in mind’s trap,
framed as timeless trance in
kaleidoscopic snap.
-------------------
Contest : Some Kind Of Kaleidoscopic
Sponsored by : Nette Onclaud
Date : July 14, 2025
Thin walls reveal, too well,
the aspirations of my neighbors.
Quiet moans mingle
with the drone of TV,
a strange mélange of real
and imagined eroticism.
As their headboard
bangs a jumbled tattoo,
I join them, gasping
like a hooked carp at our shared
moment of completion.
I wonder if they
search for a tissue,
too.
Rainbow rhapsody
morphs into morose mélange
of fractured fervor,
sordid shades of blue
paint linen of love, frayed.
Sanguinity songs turn
into nonsensical noise
echoed by soul, arcane.
Leitmotif of life seen
through indolent cynic lens
of distorted essence,
magnifies manifold
into crooked contortion
of convoluted conscience, aberrant.
We are merely montages, a mélange of endless stardust - -
Finessing poetry 'round melodic sentiments,
nuances manifested 'neath fractured mosaics of entities'
indwelling harmoniousness amidst surrendered
yesteryear's spellbinding prospective endeavors,
we are but astral whispers on winds of prismatic illusions
upon transcendence midway fractals' furthermost macrocosms
A two edged knife that deluges us
With both the midlife and afterlife
Like a tempest,
It sways us to ruination and obscurity
Then hoists us to reclamation and lucidity
The circle of life!
It steers us through despair and hope
And leaves us in a state of mélange
Where the failure to reset once more
Becomes the anchor of our setback
And the attempt to reignite dead flames
Births the strength to thrive!
(C) PoeticLord
An argentine sky adorns the woodlands
In a misty shroud as only slight remnants
Of a long forgotten path remain,
Embraced by the beauty of maples and by
The scent of cool crisp air--autumn permeates.
Yet there is subtle warmth in the mélange
Of colorful pumpkin, gold and, vermilion leaves,
In their swirling harmonic dance
As they depart the boughs of their birth
Unified in death, as in life.
©2011 Connie Marcum Wong
*For Russell Sivey’s Autumn Splendor contest
Life’s mélange of motifs fades
as time’s wheel turns on the last lap.
Tangled hues of memory spectrum converge
while the spider crawls on the senile face.
I haven’t closed my eyes on the magic mirror.
Kaleidoscopic snapshots.
Show of polychromatic pictures;
entranced reflection flickers in the glint of eyes.
As cobweb contours the sanguine face
corridors to the past converge in nothingness.
Yonder haze shrouds the last mile trail;
twilight tinges life’s frail lattice.
Calypso red dressed in dawn’s vague morning mist
Splendor painted behind the miasmic curtain
An enigmatic temptation dripping of murk and shadow
A delicately cruel mélange lost within nature’s backdrop
A barb in the thigh of our daily pious pilgrimages
Imprisoned beneath a shallow earthy grave
Forcing and screaming it entices it’s own release
In a measured fury of escape and conquest
The fragile orchid screams a silent blossom of victory
And worshipped thanks to the morning sunshine