A curse that’s worse than the pandemic
Greedier populist verse became totemic
No halt of their catapult assault systemic
Seedier social media game now endemic
Whether it be some chanting panting cleric
Will ration all compassion not really angelic
Always decanting another ranting hysteric
Doubts planting the enchanting evangelic
Oligarchy malarkey their tarnished polemic
Climate fires rage but won’t call the medic
Derails with varnished tales any academic
Preening demeaning all left leaning satiric
Dystopian & myopian totally Machiavellic
We burn they’re still lippy well it’s generic
With their heinous intravenous hypodermic
Even if taciturn with boring name like Derek
Yearn for return of hippy trippy psychedelic
Not dippy all learn nature can be mesmeric
Don’t spurn love soars above stratospheric
Not a text book relic
Poetic look esoteric
Record book cleric
Off the hook balletic
Mesmeric cook aesthetic
Cranny & nook prophetic
Canny crook stratospheric
Which is why may be
Sitting top of the tree
The Saffa Gaffer
With a higher ABV
In formats all three
Above possibly Kohli
Greatest I did see
For me is probably A.B
Chaotic kaleidoscope
fantastically aware,
brilliant symphony
dazzling in the air.
Combinations from
the prism of light,
engaged entangled
with their own flight.
Stratospheric starbursts,
whispering winds,
haunting howling,
where it all begins.
Radiant eyes,
eclipsing the mind,
luring all consciousness
emptiness left behind.
Gracious gratuity
gifting in kind,
endless motion
in the stillness of time.
Enlightenment enriched
from dark depths,
Sprouting illuminations
in spectacular breadth.
The Upper Wealthy
It was said that famous families
only lasts for about three generations
The Churchills, the Kennedys, and many
Others have a sale by date.
I thought of that while watching a program by
Crise Hedges, who happens to have grown up
among the stratospheric wealthy, and he
spent time trying to distance himself from
that class of people
He can't, everything about his language
manner, the smoothness of those who have
not had to strive
Cris was interviewing a man who writes
books about the rich, who, according to
him are bad for our society and economy
Clearly, the rich are different from those who have
No private plane when going shopping
They send children to the top school in a limo
They have a big household staff to keep
them in clover, and security, to be rich also
Mean someone is out to do your harm
The two men began annoying me, telling
stories about the wealthy, sounding like
a couple trying not to sound envious
Staring into the stratospheric abyss
Cumulus clouds swiftly drift along.
As I stand at a dusty precipice,
The white-hot heat of the sun beating down,
Microscopic gravel crunches beneath questioning feet.
A flood of overwhelming emotions washes forth,
Whilst a broken heart is drowning.
The last words you spat at me, stuck on repeat,
Play like a needle scratching a broken record.
Cupping my ears, I try to shut out the incessant noise,
But it just ricochets like emotional shrapnel,
Piercing into my tormented psyche.
Reliving the vital few seconds of a scene gone so wrong—
Have we somehow traveled past the event horizon,
Becoming an implosion of complete annihilation?
As the wind whips past, sending ripples through the air,
I frantically search the debris for answers.
Grasping at particles of dust—
Invisible atoms of desperation.
But they're unattainable.
It is to be our downfall,
Just as a resolution to this inquest
Disappears with the sun
As it wanes over the mourning horizon.
Why do those planes
Paint lines in the sky,
Leaving grey toxic trails,
Leaving us wondering why?
There is a happy land far far away
filled with captivating whistles;
Disoriented as high as you stay;
Stratospheric,
glued into a poetic disarray;
Fearless optimism? Enduring combo;
Head to toe in a glow you slay,
it’s like you swallowed a million crystals;
A creative mind is an everlasting getaway.
A lazy eventide Sitka Sunset
Where the invisible stairway to heaven
Splashes a touch of oil paint on deep blues
As I watch Helios blend radiant commands
How many more Alaskan sunsets must one perform?
Purple psychedelic hues
Greets lucid pink flowing into valleys of honey
Performing a mirrored solo masterpiece on the lake
Streaming rapturous sounds of richness
From stratospheric multi-coloured basslines
Hues so dense, one could cut into fine strips
Meets with standing ovation
As mere mortals gaze high from their amphitheatres
Mouthing the sweet syrup that pours from my haze
Succulent tongue burning coolness
Like an overused plectrum
Encased within Aurora’s twang of fusion
An instrument without strings
The Goddess whose aura never sets
I, should ask for a raise
29/05/23
Storm
in the noctilucent ether
above our spinning fire
the mist born drift of open air
weaves a crystal net
ice and vapor reaching
down towards us
as we on this cluttered hill
dig and dig
our stony halos heavy with desire
nimbus pages fold across
the cyan wishing void
our changing history written
in volcanic ash
the fire legend of a future
come to pass
each bright atom a chorus of hope and fear
then the cumulous surrender
thunderous reply
and we're washed in pure simplicity
Goddess of Wisdom
wrap us in
your perfect stratospheric shroud
I met her in an International airport
we both chose to reach for the same magazine
at the same time.
Hubs can be vortices, either
you make your connection, or you don't.
Delay can lead you to travel different ways.
It was a 'Nat Geo' publication
so naturally we fell to talking
about our best catches and the ones that got away.
When they called her away
she hurriedly told me she was heading for Venezuela
for a photo shoot but lived in Seattle.
I told her to look for me in London nest time
she was there.
Time past. The connection was lost,
bad signal, bad timing, low energy-waves
in the stratospheric miasma of kismet?
Years later I saw her work in an article;
lizards, snakes, and exotic birds
but none of her.
I drove to Heathrow Airport anyway
just to feel again how close
distance can get.
Painted ponies
across the plains;
splashes of color
against an azure sky;
an equine convention
in the clouds.
Stratospheric
abstracts meet
with colors to produce
ecstatic paintings.
Nature’s canvas
is everywhere and
She paints life
with vigorous
enthusiasm.
Sweet serenity serenade's my soul,
Solitude’s song stills storms of much sorrow;
Stars scatter stardust in my calm spirit,
Sending silent silver signals softly.
Suddenly joy summersaults so swiftly.
Stellar smiles form simultaneously,
Sidestepping shallow stratospheric sounds.
03/25/2021
Contest: Savoring Solitude In 7 Lines
Sponsor: JCB Brul
A sky-bow
pastel light rays,
pigmented by clouds;
a canvas of light.
Gradient echoes filtering
from stratospheric crystal;
embracing curvature,
terra-forma.
Polychrome lamp
riding world’s edge
to infinity’s lair;
ascending...descending,
half moon crest.
A lemon-cherry,
orange and grape
smoothie, blending
in the heavens.
My soul bleeds into
passion pinks
elation oranges
pulling me up to
highest heights
of tranquility.
We meld...
I ride the singing notes
to worlds where eyes have never been.
A cyclone blast,
and jettisoned puffs in frenzied spray;
dance in stratospheric delight.
Fluttering wings grasp gale;
spinning ecstatic heights,
a concerto of breezes
in 2/4 time;
as higher I climb.
A sky-bow
pastel light rays,
pigmented by clouds;
a canvas of light.
Gradient echoes filtering
from stratospheric crystal;
embracing curvature,
terra-forma.
Polychrome lamp
riding world’s edge
to infinity’s lair;
ascending...descending,
half moon crest.
A lemon-cherry,
orange and grape
smoothie, blending
in the heavens.
My soul bleeds into
passion pinks
elation oranges
pulling me up to
highest heights
of tranquility.
We meld...
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.