Written: December 28, 2023
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flounder in fictional field
—squeals and squeaks
Whimpers and growls
Sylphic swaying,
of flames spewing,
inwardly throbbing
of my nostril
lobotomized cosmic orbs.
scent of cinnamon
and coral on a rosary
interlaced of aurulent rimes.
Shrouded your burgundy &
coniferous ravines
loop of vitality
& unbearable redemption
in spanning eons,
ineffable wonder cradled
by melodic hums and buzzes
of lazy heat
and whistles of pitches
of endless hymns
echoes of choral chants
sung by soloists.
black ravens croaking,
like peals of doom
dewy allelomorphs
with waft-aloft wings
angels of ethereal whisper
of thunder,
that rang deafeningly
through the crevices,
of anodal motion
scurrilous loci
modeled as diploid.
Categories:
sylphic, analogy, appreciation, bereavement,
Form: Free verse
Cars are the wind on the streets
semi-truck wheels shriek thunder,
rain shatters against stone and brick walls
on dusty roads, oak trees fence with twigs—
wushu wooden clatters.
Dreadful arrays of dryads
azure and amethyst gossamer haze,
sleek, silken strikes gist an opera of wisteria,
as they sway to silver breeze's sibilant rustles.
They chant lullabies in lyrical lilts of hued iridescence,
of hearth and opals back to my scarlet nest.
Angelus silver trills, the sylphic sways of pure rays,
Coral rosary—incense strands of aurulent rimes
hum, endless hymns echo as choral evensong
alleluias softly peal out—doves with wet eyes
that drift upward on whispery—ethereal wings.
Ocean's plea emerges from apothic abyss,
a voice conveys the core of faxed shores and stars,
with earth and wind in a solemn tone.
A cosmic biography—in loud squeals and sighs
sea vernacular hinges on nature's lasting awe.
Breath goes to fog—snow melts into puddles—rain returns,
a china-white grave—encases the deceased deer,
before thawing in the morning—icy skin lies frozen.
An eerie distance holds my hand in a purifying blizzard.
Categories:
sylphic, analogy, appreciation, introspection, nature,
Form: Free verse
She is the sylphic stream
and the flow spinning
her sequined sarong
through gleaming fields
as she weaves
endless reveries
nebulous and lithe
ripples leaves
with her rhythmic
untamed grace
omnipresent and fluid
diffused in ambience
joyful teasing
pulse that
glitters in
silver stars
she is the
sanguine song
that lights
a doting heart
footnote : an ode to Nymph , the goddess of nature
Any form/ theme upto 20 lines Late Feb Premier contest
Feb28 2018 sponsored by Brian Strand
Categories:
sylphic, nature,
Form: Free verse
Someone get me a Catholic Priest.
I have a confession to make.
About how I doubted God-
By not believing in the magnificence of his creation.
ME!
I told me lies that I believed like the Bible.
Chanted my own crafted verses-
Within the darkest temples of my lost hollow mind.
I buried the skeleton of my soul in wandering waters of skepticism.
Now I suffocate for the truth like oxygen
Someone get me a doctor.
They say my anatomy is proof of life's perfection
But I've mutilated the molecular structure
of water molecules in my cerebrum with my dubious thinking.
If I am Adam's replication, then I will need an auscultation
For my heart beats out of fear of the things I can become.
So I set my feet wide on high grounds
And make the winds blow me.
Till I float with my thoughts to the place where destiny lives.
Someone get me a photographer.
Today we take pictures of the things we cannot see.
Faith is in the thin air like a sylphic palanquin.
Ready to take us heights till we reach the depths of our essence.
Categories:
sylphic, creation, faith, hope,
Form: Free verse
Hearth of Winds
From west to east you plumb axisal spin,
And darted on the limbs of the poles.
On longitudes and latitudes, you are dotted in silhouettes.
Just above the horizon of age, you journeyed,
Beckoning the threshold of syllabubic windfalls.
Sated with doldrums of lambent haul,
And the pomp of sycamore hover instill.
When you call again at the Isle of trench,
The oracles of time shall tune again the aviary.
Seated upon the pillion of days the carter roves,
Tilting in all directions with hopes of succour.
A long way from time indeed you are,
But as the tides of valour surmise you triumph.
Once I saw an array of humanic acclaims,
In a manger of Sylphic heath of tenderness.
The hills of tonic travails titivating the hold,
And all the flakes of materialism dancing attune the vista.
The tales of deeds will forever entail polemic puzzles,
And the spate of the weaver’s loom shall reckon amidst.
Adeola Yusuf Amuni
Categories:
sylphic, naturetime,
Form: Lyric