Watch dazzling sunrise emerge from its surreal cocoon,
Engage with cordial citizens who ooze spry radiant charm,
Applaud droll comic town brazen banter on zigzag pavement,
Vivid vermillion hydrant spewing mint cool water on,
Effervescent footslogger’s fiery life thirst seldom slaked
She couldn't live as a verse anymore,
She needed to be more than perfume on a pen,
more than a lovely dream for a hungry man,
to be touched beyond the torch
of twilight cool inspiration,
the Poet must give Her a body to behold,
to rescue Her from the curse
of a ghost feathered quill,
born of a bold blooded Angel
She will become Muse made warm woman real,
elegant as rose petal feel,
Her ancient thirst,
no longer slaked with ink of stellar burst,
the art of love will live
within the skin that She has suffered to win,
to parade through paradise
with a victor's pulse to survive,
Poet and Muse fused to sharpen
flame to flesh as lovers kiss the forbidden -
J.A.B.
Life sea
wavers on waves.
Soul serene still at depth
I sink, search slaked for last sanctum,
silence.
The days were great..We ranged around cared for by good humans on our edgewood ground, a mighty flock our ages did range..Up to forty years; indeed some gained.' Our nights were restfull, we passed each test..' ancient bloodline and
Of the best.' Then strangers came observing ing cold.' Then many more trucks
And cars untold, we were seperated from
The humans who cared, herded un-feelingly to where straw walls were.' Until
In the dark one night loud bangs.!!! Flames against the black, and with burning pain; we ran into the walls, laid low in vain
We smelled of death, those who survived all night
In agony, bloodstained' then came the last sunrise.' The
Bad humans walked in with sticks that spat
Again that fire..We lay helpless targets as
They slaked their desires, yet the pain is gone now we are with our Creator.' Away
Are the tall hat ones..yet fate is the endless trail they must ever walk, these are the bad of humanity.' At no evil will they baulk.'
Lunatic Moon
A Moon.
THE Moon.
Moon-Eyed Pie…
Still Enormous Looming
Ever-Present In
OUR Sky:
Surprise!
All We Understand
Or Think We Do, Denies…
The Dew-Eyed Joy
We Dreamed Into
Your Wisdom's
Loving Lies.
So Wise!
Looming Long
Historically, We've
Suffered You With Death…
We've Stared With Tears
About Your Face
While Stuttering Each Breath.
We've Slaked And Quenched
Entire Needs
We Dedicate On You….
Shall I Share The Truth?
My Billowing Moon:
All Dressed,
Addressed
In Mystery Blue?
-Gray Squirrel
09-05-2025
sea of life
pulsates on passion waves
sapphire serenity drapes its depth
I sink slaked
within the submerged soul
search for the sublime sanctum
VICTORY
I never did succeed at first
Yet winning never slaked my thirst
But giving up I can’t abide
At least I know that I have tried
Can no-one ever scale that wall
Too high for some, no chance at all
A brave attempt can’t be denied
At least I know that I have tried
Does anyone run the fastest mile
Or finish races with a smile
I still have much resolve inside
At least I know that I have tried
I never did succeed at first
At least I know that I have tried
I'm an ordinary sort...
Nothing much to see.
No shining star to mark my space...
No glory there to be.
I've lived my life as best I could
With few laurels to provide.
Just one who walks in whispers
With mediocrity as my guide.
But times they are a changing
As normality bids adieu.
There are malcontents who flourish...
What's a common man to do?
With a world slaked in chaos...
The dregs will have their way.
So mediocrity is not so bad...
When stupidity rues the day.
The End
Written: October 22, 2023
___________________________________
In the murky backdrop of my remote dreams.
Still has the enticing taste of your whisper.
To fester in my skeleton till tomorrow.
Storing long-dormant slaked thirst till tomorrow.
I'll wander quiet pastures in crystal dreams.
What relics, amid the dwindling whispers.
Esoteric pulse in veins, leading to a whisper.
Time is ethereal, and it inveigles tomorrow.
My fatuous soul implies in my dreams.
Dreams webbed by whispers descry solace tomorrow.
Life sea
wavers on waves.
In depth, draped serene still,
I sink, search slaked in submerged soul,
silence.
Flying around so dextrously
Her wee heart beating rapidly
Humming about excitedly
O sweet water levitate me
Her wings impossible to see
Form a blurry consistency
On whim of a scent she will flee
O sweet water levitate me
Slow motion will reveal esprit
Sideways or three sixty degree
Her nuanced bluffs forever free
O sweet water levitate me
Overcoming earths gravity
Light as a summer breeze is she
My thirst now slaked subjectively
O sweet nectar levitate me
A KYRIELLE ABOUT WATER Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Kim Rodrigues
How many syllables 16x8
08/25/22
Squalid were those days of thuggish delight
When the fat land's spirit the small Goths stole.
Joy was a thirst slaked, forever a night,
In that corpulent desert of mean soul.
But pastel virtue slowly starves a man
To walking death lest spurred by hunger's throes.
Standing apart I shunned the dead hearts' Pan
And found you, the last lover of heroes.
Of fleshy spirit living colors bold
You nourished me on the ripe joys to come
When truth and beauty are wrenched from lust's scold
And repatriated to love's kingdom.
Now together gray at time's ragged edge
With your love to the morrow I still pledge.
Will you come?
Will you come?
To quest,
Knock my door
Come and play the flute
Unforgettable memories,
And forgiven melancholic throb
Now shrouded in mist.
Those nights, all perfumed in lavender
Gone mornings, drizzled quilt the rooftop
The room was curtain in pearls and whites
Grey ashes stained the fireplace
Everything taled their fierce affair!
Miles away from your abode, I lie...
Beneath the moon
Woods were deep in dark
Droughted souls witnessed
My wounds,
The death and my cadaver.
All your silken touches,
Warmth and cuddles of your body,
I fallen asleep when you sang lullabies.
Come, slaked the drought days
Bring elixir to the life to live again
Come, unearth my grave
Feel my heart aches, my rotten veins here
Buried lone and longing for you...
Will you come?
Come,
Unearth my grave...
I opened my heart, as a bud in bloom
A fragile flower, gently held in his arms
I welcomed the warmth of his touch
He was my morning dew, slaked my thirst
and sated my hunger for love.
His words were whispered in my ear.
But now, his utterances rip my petals apart
Cruel inflictions play havoc on my soul,
His language hurls daggers at my heart
I'm tortured and tormented with toxic chiding
His voice is venom from the fangs of a snake,
leaving puncture wounds, dripping with blood.
His angry words strip me bare of dignity
With each flay of his tongue, I am whipped
I'm withering like a clipped rose,
exposed to a scourge of abusive speech
What ails my heart leaves no bodily scars
I need benediction to heal my wounds
but I know the answer to my prayers
will never come from his cursed lips
And although it's not easy to forgive him,
I do because I am guilty of self-infliction.
The love I have for him is an addiction,
and for this weakness, I suffer the pain
of allowing his words to pummel my heart
again and again
August 10th, 2020
Inflictions Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Silent One
Luke 15:11-32
In search of delight, I wandered away
Exchanged my inheritance for nothing at all.
Choking on filth, suffocating in sin
I drew one last breath, and dared venture home.
Upon my knees with pod stained cheeks
When from afar you beckoned me near.
You ringed me and robed me, welcomed me home
Cleansed and clutched me, claimed me your own.
With open side, you slay me forgiven
With tender gaze, you tended my wounds
With pierced hands, you slaked me Precious
Your Mercy; my treasure
Your Name; my inheritance
Your Word; my path
Your Kingdom; my home.
"This brother of yours was dead and is alive again; he was lost and is found."
Chentelle Anne Cooke
Favorite Scripture Contest
Submitted June 3, 2020
Sub Categories
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.