A room, stilled in silent contrition, steeped in repentance.
Freshly dressed Roses at tables end.
Flowers die too; he confesses!
No more will he discern her voice
nor caress the gentle source of her existence.
Slumbered back against the cathedra he
decries the mellow cherub of the cardinal
perched aside his window.
A message?
As he dreams a tormented reflection of his past,
a tear pearls gently down as memories play
Silently in his pain.
He repines only now that; " if only he had been a better man". Hoping in chance that she may forgive.
Cease this pain to not sustain beyond his wish for a moments exchange!
His dream delayed. For his bride of many a year appears, waking him from his mare. In somber refrain he delights. Its you my love!
Never waste a moment to tell her.
Canaigre a leafy buckwheat
right here in the high desert!
Drive an hour, hike an hour,
find some shade, sit in dirt.
Identify plants, photograph rocks.
Raven and scrub jay.
Coleogyne and cercocarpus,
single-leaf ash and squawbush.
What else have I seen?
Juniper, the source of all penumbra.
The rift that took the river eons to carve,
caves for cougar and Anasazi.
The sand and soil are Mars red,
iron oxides deposited by ocean
200 to 20 million years ago.
That’s nuthin compared to the wind in my head!
Meanwhile it’s Spring back east,
geopolitical and existential dramas
perdure without surcease,
our quince has blossomed and slumbered.
Joint-fir, ephedra, arid
sagebrush and rabbitbrush.
But juniper berries stay
nuclear blue-green!
Dost thou disport thyself in thy daily pilgrimage?
What calleth 'playtime' unto thy soul?
I find my joy in the presence of ancient trees.
Where vibrant hues do spiral wild and free.
Such forests stretch beyond the sight, far and deep.
For 'tis within the winding roads of sleep.
I wander, blessed by the light that slumbered brings.
Nature doth cast a gentle, cooling breath!
To soothe my spirit, far from thoughts of depth.
O, Golden Light! Grant me lengthened rest!
For my strange, painted trees must be addressed.
With joyous heart, I fashion things of naughty.
The muse cries, "Play!" with every color squeezed,
With twinning scrolls and fancies, well appeased.
'Tis here I take my leap,
Both bold and steep,
Into a bright and variegated heap!
daisy pollen in nostrils
tongue moves from blue frost
where it slumbered winterish
sunrise cracks pregnant lake
trout jumping in surprise
I finger spring fish
warm flesh melts lips
inner cheeks bleat rosy
packing away mittens
ladybug lands
tickling toes —
____________________________
Allpoetry Honorable Winner
April 26
Prompt: Spring is in my Mouth
Oh, beautiful birds,
in my youth, I released you
to bluer skies with hopes high.
You were my longings in flight
before my wishing time
sadly subsided.
Some of you returned
to visit me as I slumbered
deep into nights
of unrequited dreams.
Others of you flew
far beyond any horizons
where I might ever find you.
A few of you,
like the blue bird and robin,
warbled in my ear from time to time,
but short were those visits to me.
Oh, dear birds of my youth’s
hopes and dreams,
where have you all gone
as my days grow shorter?
If I strive to listen,
sometimes I can almost catch
the sound of your pretty songs.
At my door today,
I can almost imagine the caw
of ravens that in my youth
I never dared
to dream of.
When gentle zephyrs stir the slumbered earth,
And vernal sun doth gild the waking glade,
The buds arise to herald spring's rebirth,
In painted hues, the promised bloom displayed.
See tulip flames and daffodil's bright gold,
Sweet violets blush in emerald shade,
The lilac's breath in purple dreams unfold,
All nature’s tapestry adorned, arrayed.
Yet beauty's reign, though splendid, soon must fade,
As fleeting as the morning’s crystal dew.
So blooms are lost as seasons’ debts are paid,
Their fragrant glory but a moment’s view.
Yet in brevity, spring flowers depart;
A timeless essence, woven in the heart.
Many bright lights toil at night,
keeping company with ghosts.
Days waste like lightning striking
or as unbroken green lamps.
But in cloisters of darkness,
Promethean mind rains fires --
illuming the slumbered world.
*~~~~~*~~~~~*~~~~~*~~~~~*~~~~~*~~~~~*~~~~~*~~~~~*
Words numb the mind whilst on paper,
idleness advocates,
a lost quill to favor a floor;
tossing profits to err,
that challenges remnants respite,
from energies spirits,
their internal venous chambers,
timely formulation.
Bach, nay Beethoven symphony,
caress the ears to muse,
a muted voice moistens lips, drains,
the endless sands of time,
as its host, vaporous spirits,
engages a review,
of Cherubs galloped chariots,
steads Athena’s harp plays,
illumes familial revue.
Sadden and laughter, exposes,
the stillness mummified,
as the blanketed sinks down low,
perchance a remedy,
will enlighten the slumbered gist,
as seasons in transit,
regulates targeted gamut,
palls nightmares, enhanced dreams.
*~~~~~*~~~~~*~~~~~*~~~~~*~~~~~*~~~~~*~~~~~*~~~~~*
To craft a line that’s nice and tight
about a failed attempt to write…
well, something just doesn’t seem right,
but I will not put up a fight;
I shall instead call it a night.
For if I rest my head, I might
through slumbered sleep gain some insight
quick captured at the dawn’s first light
a little gem, bedazzling, bright
the pulse to race, the heart, excite
and end this literary blight.
Smiling down on the speckles of sand,
already the warmth is fading.
Dreaming of brilliant
stars to appear
as their mother rested on waves.
At the height of graceful magnificence
her soft chrome glow diminishing.
One last show
she would provide
before she went to bed.
She reached her arms to the skies
and bid her children "good night."
Sinking slowly,
hesitantly,
into the darkness,
she painted the heavens with hues,
magenta, tangerine, and cyan she had bestowed.
A tinge of violet creeping softly in,
bleeding unnoticeably, one into the other
until a rich ocean blue had been made.
Movements of life
slowed, blurred,
dreams wriggled deep into minds,
darkness blanketed
the land with its quilts.
And Earth slumbered once more.
I hear a haunting melody drifting in the wind
as though a Stradivarius had been chinned
Gently, it dried the tears of willows weeping
slowly drifted past my window as I lay sleeping
It tickled my ears as I slumbered in a dream
then touched the glow of a golden moonbeam
Our days are numbered- till first day of spring
when unencumbered, she can start her fling
wake winter-slumbered buds for their upswing!
Polar bear chased Joe into a cave
Already there was a princess and knave
They waited until the big gal went to sleep
Then stealthily stole away with nary a peep
polar bear here
polar bear there
she gave us a scare,
she gave us a scare
Polar bear slumbered cozily away
As they climbed out of her cave that day
Hibernating now, the three told all who would listen
Staying away from that frozen cave that gave a glisten
polar bear here
polar bear there
she gave us a scare,
she gave us a scare
Feeling lucky they had survived the bear’s hungry ways
They all told the story from then until the end of their days
A princess, knave, and a regular guy named Joe.
Who still tell the tale down in Kokomo.
polar bear here
polar bear there
she gave us a scare,
she gave us a scare
I slumbered, half-dead, lost in oblivion's night
Unaware of my surroundings, a fleeting, fragile light
Sleep, a battleground where life and death entwine
A struggle to survive, a war to reclaim the divine
But when I wake, the night's dark battle's won
I've emerged victorious, the morning's golden sun
And when I sleep, unbroken by the day's fierce strife
I've conquered the day's battle, a warrior's hard-won life
I rise, hale and hearty, with morning's vibrant dew
And praise my Maker, whose mercy saw me through
I fought the night's dark battle, and prevailed to see
The dawn's triumphant glory, a new day's destiny
Oh Lord, my God, guide me through the day's ordeal
For many rise with morning, but some will not reveal
The battle of life's crushing weight, its merciless design
Many will fall, but I, oh Lord, will rise, with heart and mind.
Let our Summer sky be filled with a task
where free light lays claim to the crown of day,
set free the talons of those whose talents
seize eyes their gaze long stolen dreamt amaze
of challenge true our foes coffers their graves
whose slumbered rest awaits the trumpets sound
upon the day of days, rise I from ground
and distant wars of both past and further
I will be among their numbers greatest
and bear no title nor they, scars of war
and be as one beneath our Summer sky.
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.