Short Prologue Poems

Moonlight drips upon my parched soul
as I taste time
I wonder if the dead dance in silky starlight steam

October 1st 2023...

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Tap, tap, clickety-clack
Thoughts vigilantly stamped
Trademark of transcription
Technology's prologue
Twain's famous "Tom Sawyer"
Time etched black and white scene
Tinted with grandpa's dust

4-27-2021...

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Dearest Vicar –
As a poet’s lines: 
It is divinity proper!

Onions figure
In our everlasting divinings:
Her white ashes
Of our burn-fire 
And the dew of dawn’s tears
Still coax the rainbow 
To no avail

Her white ashes
Splashing wet-dusts of dark days:
Cocks crow in vain?...

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What grand overture preceeds death

When the past is prologue to life

What omnipotent power's breath

Gives life to our struggle and strife 

Ask who will come to our defense 

As we battle against the odds

What will sustain our common sense 

When we're the folly of our gods...

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Make a bold start
With easy feel;
Let steady heart
Fling love that heals.
Let mind reveal
A pattern here;
Feel what you feel
With thought sincere.
Joy dwells with peace
If you but see;
Zest knows with ease
Truth and beauty.
Live love that grows
In time, it shows.



Leon Enriquez
30 July 2014
Singapore...

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SILHOUETTE (1/23) — PROLOGUE


Dark silhouette
Solitary glimpses;
Mystic moments

~~~~~


Word writes
Feel firm cite
Take a bite
See the light
Bring new sight

Cheer fits
Calm crisp wit
In fond bits
Learn to know
Glimpse of flow

~~~~~~~~~



Leon Enriquez
08 January 2021
Singapore...

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Stand by at the proper moment. 
Your shattered heart will be mended
We will address every one of your issues.
And your concerns.
The poise will modify the dread.
You were desperate for this.
To move to the prologue that follows.
Within the bounds of your being.

Written: March 23, 2022...

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Beyond treetops shines evening light. 
Leaves glow and shimmer at sundown. 
A perfect prologue to the night.
Before the moon glows bright and round.
Muted orange, a pinkish sight. 
Sets the stage for nights subtle sound. 
Where silence hears the crickets call
And beauty speaks to one and all.

Ó November 17, 2011
Dane Ann Smith-Johnsen...

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A play was enacted
with a drum beating prologue,
evaporated into thin air
after some acts.
Enacting and evaporating
time and again.

Seeds were sown
but the fields remained barren.
Seeds are sown
yet the fields stay barren.

Time gone never returned
but it returns steps backward
from the starting point
everytime it matches.

June 20 2016...

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A man I knew once,
A man I knew as friend.

Within his indenture he turned on us,
Fed up, we no longer could contend.

A man who asked so much from us,
Our support, so little we lend.

We weren’t there when he called on us,
We weren’t there to help him mend.

Left with guilt as vile as puss,
For we were negligent and dilatory in his sickened end.



04/20/13...

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Freshly brewed fog and a fall rain,
the mist could transform to a beast;
Winds might swirl becoming a frog 
pulsing so loud inside your throat;

You’ll second guess and feel insane 
when elevated fears are greased;
Hit that plot twist with no prologue 
left rolling in those tales remote;

Bring that quill back to analog,
tranquilize this poet’s stained note....

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Somewhere in the fog is Chaucer's prologue
to those Canterberry tales.
Ms. Layton I must thank for storing it
in my memory bank which of late seems
to have paled.
No offense to Mr. Chaucer but it's way past
time to toss her before this old brain is derailed.
For some day soon I may stutter with so much
extra brain clutter but Chaucer's prologue
it  seems I have nailed....

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hold the rope tight, never let go of a safe hand
the journey ahead is far too brutal to make sense
what once seemed fated, shall shatter one's hopes
the idea of love was born from a poet's thought

lover's rose from the ashes to finish their lovelorn stories
heart wrapped in barbed wire yet still beating-
for the one who will break my heart
uncover new truths in each arc...

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Somewhere a peaceful bed of land
just so forsaken hearts can band.
Those born beneath a sky of stones
in human err that strive alone
with scars so bad they pay the cost
of leaving them forever lost
adrift in dreams never to be,
on a ceaseless tide of destiny.

9/28/19

Any Poem You Want to Write 50 Words or Less Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Caren Krutsinger ...

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Silent getaway

 
Cold rain falls on the cover of life-death
Ice in the soul froze letters on startup

 
We departure silently in a memory route
The muse wounds in a last verse

 
Pages and tears and letters falling like autumn leaf
Sweet torture kisses of separation and rain and pain

 
It was summer in return there had tears and songs
The book is wet in a prologue the muse dies...

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For unspoken answers, 
there was always the- 
    question, why hawks 
were needing the peace ?

Tied to innate fringes, 
I want an explicit display.
    The prologue was very 
misleading.

War was inside and 
outside. Were you a hobbes-
     ian ? I am not afraid 
of death.

Reacted so violently. 
The colored shirts should be 
    taken off. Let us see 
the scars !



Satish Verma...

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That vertical sink
loaded with cargo
fraught,
with pools of blackened blood
burned me.


I never arrived
at a moot prologue
for the journey of dead.

The sun turned away
in a doubt
under a smoked trance of helplessness.

Perhaps it was true of a murder
in serene weather
when the astrologia was opposite.

The charred landscape
dithered about the lilies.
Will they come back ?



Satish Verma...

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That vertical sink
loaded with cargo
fraught,
with pools of blackened blood
burned me.


I never arrived
at a moot prologue
for the journey of dead.

The sun turned away
in a doubt
under a smoked trance of helplessness.

Perhaps it was true of a murder
in serene weather
when the astrologia was opposite.

The charred landscape
dithered about the lilies.
Will they come back ?



Satish Verma...

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Juice jumpy joy
Thrill tasty toy
Prime profound ploy


Ample apt ask
Touch tricky task
Bright blessings bask


Stray sensuous scent
Prize primal pent
Daze dizzy dent


Aspire arms aid
Pique prologue paid
Style simply said


Dance dazzling dream
Succinct sure streams
Rich rustic reams


Drop dimples deep
Loud laughter leaps
Snoring sinks sleep




Leon Enriquez
31 August 2017
Singapore...

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Open me up and take a read.
My cover is not all of me.
Don’t judge me because of it.
There’s the table of contents,
The prologue and chapters.
Let’s not forget the epilogue.
My chapters are one of a kind.
Within them, you will find joy,
sadness, and so much more.
You may even see a bit of you,
Because we all connected, by
way of the human experience.
So open me and take a read.
















Alexis Y.
01/13/2021...

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Time blows and turns over
the pages of mylife.
Sometime revealing the prologue
and sometime the epilogue.

Hands write and leave their imprints.
the blotch, the unflinching courage,
 dejection,the forlon hope, ..........
all remain embedded in my soul.

Seasons arrive and vanish
bestowing sometime a spring flower
 and  sometime dry autumnal foliage.

I'm  a  fossil 
caged in my  own world.
I only wait and behold as
time writes  my fate....

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Sore Ankle

impatiently edging past my husband
the lid - lifts off - from the pot
microwave still ajar

He Cares

not in mood to hear capitulation
at my ankle’s screaming pittance
I harden, he softens

Introspect

his kindness and care remove my black ring
my mood slowly turning blue
not unlike my ankle

Prologue

microwave does not throw out dirty looks
nor does it knock out the light
that fills room with gladness
...

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