SILK SERAPHS
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morning's fiery edge ascends~
kaleidoscopic procession of
pinks, blues, yellows catch my eyes.
above me, a fleet of silk seraphs
claim the cerulean sky,
sun's warmth igniting their ethereal sails.
the silk seraphs easily glide~
like dreamers across celestial skies,
they drift along effortlessly.
burners' gentle roar, a soothing serenade~
the ballonists soar in burnished metal baskets
while passengers wave as they pass by.
above quilted plains, tiny silk thrones reign~
like my wayward thoughts
they meander carefree.
the wind gently carries them higher aloft
then…..pooooof….they vanish.
magic comes with dawn’s first rays.
she hung her sari out
on a hilltop clothesline
wisps of colours to the sun
playful lengths of silk
toying with the breeze
flowing swaying dancing
no fanfare no introduction no applause
just the unexpected gift
of an exquisite peaceful moment
of breathtaking beauty
on a sunny april morning
AP: 3rd place 2025, Honorable Mention 2025
Submitted on August 12, 2025 for contest 1403 sponsored by BRIAN STRAND - RANKED 2ND
Your kisses were like honey
as I tasted them on the street
late at night
your embraces were like a silk scarf.
Written: July 17, 2025, for contest by Joseph May
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Silk voice ties the tunes of the throng
As you play the chill, snake-hands song
Void doesn't just loom—he swoons and croons
Of the throng, silk voice ties the tunes
My sound won't cross—cling to your room
He swoons and croons—void doesn't just loom
Won't quench the charm and delight dross
Cling to your room—my sound won't cross
I'll break the chain with skillful smarm
And delight dross won't quench the charm
Haunts the twilight with spry disdain
With skillful smarm, I'll break the chain
Even my heart can't sate your height
With spry disdain, haunts the twilight
When the coming spite pours a chart
Can't sate your height, even my heart
We all know one fact
that Earth is our home,
But why do we do this
and make it to foam?
Earth is our mother
and feeds us with her milk,
But why do we do this
and make it to silk?
We are not her only child
and her only worries
But why do we do this
and make ourselves her worries?
We all knew this one thing
that she is our only way to survive
But why did we do this and kill her
for only us to thrive?
A Yellow silk scarf
He bought a yellow silk scarf at a second-hand shop
In Cheshire, the type actors were, when meeting for
A drinks party; the mirror told me he wore the scarf
With seedy elegance, which normally comes to those
Who has no self-awareness, better still, ignores what
Other people think.
In Ashdod, someone broke into his cabin, the thief
Stole his Ronson lighter, he could overlook that
But his yellow silk scarf went unforgiven forever
He'll eat white mulberry leaves
it's softness...dose not compare
he spins the luster silken threads
to whom ?...today, will wear
She wears her dress of finest silk
a special day, some say
her swept up hair, red sandals too
how graceful... she looks today.
It's way of life ,traditional Art
tea ceremony, she'll take a part
her beauty, love and harmony
all perfect... just like a symphony
It's a come of age, a ceremony staged
her kimono painted...in pastels shades
for weddings, funerals, graduation too
its her first kimono...all brand new
also boys and girls ,will take a part
from seven ,five and three
their kimono red, of finest thread
by silkworms, master weaver said
lets leave this scene, of finest silk
of beauty, love,...serene
we will visit them another day
its gracefulness ...now seen
Written June 5, 2025, for contest: Etheree Of Your Heart - Sponsor: Ink Empress
Syllable count verified: www.howmanysyllables.com
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Breeze
broadcasts
charming pace
beats of the breeze
girls with clumsy legs
scrutinize for snail beads —
to the seamless sapphire sky
amid the swarm of silky clouds,
sculpt morphs into cobalt-hued visor
spume tails hover from peaks with cyclic bliss
winsome enthusiasm in our core swathes —
storm hooves herald the dawn of high tide
enshrines recall of past paths roved
rings rhythm of earned respite care
in sound and unspoilt place —
weaving whimsy waves
soothes my spirit.
drawn gold sky,
soul glint
stream
droplets of water
find relief on spun silken ~
webs of fortitude
Having counted wooly sheep
was woken from a deep delta sleep
in the middle of the night
thought I'd heard a pig snort
but no that can't be right
tho' kicked out of bed
and landing on my head
knew where I stood
for delegated to the floor
then relegated to the room next door
when in no uncertain terms she said,
'You're sawing wood, you snore!'
Not as such a silk purse,
but a sow's ear would be worse.
Not so much a pig in a poke
(jiggery-pokery),
more a poke at a pig in a joke
(piggery-jokery).
All in all,
Sy-hokery!
she wears it graceful and demure
parades in sophistication and elegance
her stance dignified and refined
her kimono feminine and stylish
she’s from nobility and opulence
regal and yet modest
AP: Honorable Mention 2025
Silhouette of memories, flowing like silk, as waves collides, body to body never sea sick, we medicate each other by staring in each other's eyes, with soft spoken vibes, that penetrates the inner core, to stabilize our chemical balance, achieving the ultimate climax fulfilling the void, without richness,but with simplicity of indigent affection.
Bumping each other's heartbeat,sycronized, like a old school mix tape, bouncing with echos and body rockin like a cali earthquake, If only I had a chance to change the hands of time, to feel, touch, and caress your hourglass of life, with celebration of whip cream, dripping wet, lost in the moment, drowning in your passion, no doubt, mouth to mouth my vitals begin to fluncuat, cause only you, give me life.
Silk merchant 's gaze, a practical sweep,
Fine thread he seeks, where shadows sleep.
A finger points, with eager grace,
"This crimson hue, a rare embrace!"
Young maiden stands,with eyes so deep,
My mother's hand, it secret keep.
The silkworm spun a crimson stain,
Where pain and love, did interwine.
"Her wounded hands, the thread did hold"
A sacrifice, a story to told.
The silk, it glows, with life's own fire,
A mother's love, that "burns no higher".
Merchant's hand is still it's quest,
A sudden weight, upon his breast.
No words he speaks, no price he names,
But feels the sting, of hidden flames.
He sees not silk, but crimson Tide,
Where love and loss, forever ride.
The silent tears, the woven plea,
A mother's heart, eternally.
~Byeol
Wrap me in your silk like a dream, a moment worth keeping beneath closed eyes,
Perhaps I'll be wounded or thawed by the warmth that tenderly seeps within,
The frenzy of the shawl’s thread weaves my thoughts, like a circle of fate,
For warmth or for death—a choice binding my soul to freedom's gate.
I must capture the triumph of warmth, a crown of shawl that holds me tight,
Better to be a beacon of light, beyond the flight of life that soars high,
But shall I not be absent when the call is heard, or will you fade into twilight?
Will I find you in the late dusks, a shadow of night’s devotion bright?
Perhaps a void of love in the night, an abyss that knows no bounds,
I will never cease to watch and pause, frozen by the mysteries profound,
Always remaining with its breeze, a thrill that never fades away,
Between life’s shadows and the flickering light in the distance, ever astray.
Previous nights were mellow and true –
Love had been tender,
Nights had never been blue –
Gentle as the dance, we swung
I hold Eleanor Knightley in my loving arms.
Crystals, amethyst and pearls she wore,
Around her neck diamonds were
Gold as her crown radiated with luminescence,
Extravagant as Egyptian Silk embraced her figure
Carelessly our bodies rhythmically swayed along.
“May I have this dance?”
I asked.
“Why certainly.”
Eleanor Knightley had manipulated my eyes –
Mesmerized by her flair and natural beauty
I am bewitched by the Madame's alluring charm.
As the night enclose –
I hold Eleanor Knightley so close –
Whisper the following words;
“The night may wilt, I say –
But the English rose blossoms foreverly.”
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