A curled pink nail,
tap on navy blue,
garment I wore,
benchmark blazer,
and matching pants,
whilst idly gazing,
at top shelf luxuries,
with lavish design,
a tinctured twang,
“beyond my grasp,”
that felicitous plead,
from ethereal elder,
whose finger points,
to green leaf motif,
breakfast tea box,
tucked between,
medley of brands,
behind shelf label,
“your lofty stature,”
“towering boon,”
her citrine whisper,
my wobbly lurch,
I self adjust now,
before the setting,
of caffeine boost,
in basket mesh,
hug swops usher,
vanishing in lane
POSTIVES POSITIONED-:-
previously
adapted
horizons
laden
measures
in the OPPOSITE DIRECTION
formatted
suggested
outlined
technical
motifs
so TINCTURED
paletted
equivalence
strokes
Delectable daze
aligned aesthetic
shimmered swoon
of
bespoke ripples
svelte meander
induced isthmus
vapour vaulting
veracity stoic
conscious cognizant
bard assimilating
aureate archways
seismic
rendered relish
goading effervescent
literary lullaby
interwoven
opportune foramen
tinctured chasm
or otherworld
fractured frisson
bejewelled
template tempter
sonic madrigal
enticing
creative lunge
toward tiered
vanilla visuals
for
ethereal lyric
deft minstrel
of
fermented finesse.
lithe moulder
authorised pen
swimming
enigmatic estuaries
whilst
dance retinue
sunshine swathes
pivotal pirouette
spawning
erudite enjambment
satin weave
gossamer lens
whose
amaranthine fixed
focus eschews
bland doggerel
instead
chatoyant cynosure
replenished quill
lacquers
indigo imbued
bunting’s warble
inducing
hypnotic portrait
surreal verse
delirious
weave web
unravelled
dream denouement
of
epic entablatures
Words dissolve in a simmering pot~
not soup, but something more.
Each ladle releases a new verse,
a flavor never before tasted.
Some mix their sorrow as deeply as a roux,
while others scatter hope like coarse black pepper.
A smidgen of resentment bitters the broth
while laughter improves the brew.
I bring my scraps, my burnt-edged rhymes,
my half-chewed thoughts still warm.
The pot absolves the awkward lines,
transforming them into poesies.
And when the steam has filled the room,
when my tongue is tinctured,
I leave not fed—but changed, undone~
with someone else’s hunger inside.
Lay there sinking, thinking
under the surface of sodden anxieties.
Recall you darkly
the flickering hours, the tinctured years,
as sweat-stained sheets leech.
This room may be your last gasp,
but you can’t tell,
time distorts death as it does life.
Come morning, the body
(if it is still fitfully aware),
may be rinsed by an untried light,
an embalmed mind unwrapped
as muggy dreams are moped away
for one more uncertain day.
Ecstatic eye of night
thoughts tangled tangent
tint of orange moon
slivers were just hazy
incipient learned launch
as the querulous quirk
indented ingress idly
still desperate to capture
though less likely
lavishness connoting mood
human forest focal point
I dream in dribbles soppy
though never flagged yet
as futile aspiration amid
hues strictly night bound
might benefit wistfully
when strident slumber
indigenous to townscape
has its muted rippled
riddle not tactfully
resolved due to blind
daylight tinctured template
aroused by the clangour
of mint medley lure of
Arcadia circus dangle
of inchoate promise known
as crystal carrot jewellery
box whose flecks fly a riot
before the milling cluster
who wantonly wonder
at collapsing fortress inside
whilst rugged resilience
that tower block of prime
revitalised endeavour bent
on a fantasy forage with
disposition a pointless block
though underbody wobbles
if left without the widest
custodial watch of the self
one might be elated finally
Velvet paper tinctured pink,
A red rose at its crest;
The whittled feather, bathed in ink,
Set to bare its best.
A lambent candle close at hand
With dancing, flitting flare;
Where evening translates its command
And nothing stirs the air.
Words are authored, truly writ,
Where, from the soul they flow;
As on the page they snugly sit,
Affection to bestow.
Filling out each careful line,
Each one a work of art,
Hand and mind, with pen, entwine
Concerted to the heart.
And when the tender prose she'll read
And tastes the chaste romance.
She feels a shivered chill, indeed,
Deep in her breast ~ per chance?
And as the fondest words engage,
Seen through her moistened eyes:
A teardrop falls to blot the page
And stays and never dries.
A canal, far away,
was built many years ago
for the ships' passage
between two oceans.
A river, near me, slowly
flows, floats the barges.
And, years ago,
this dove- colored river
was open for the wars.
Today, distant lights
on the river are a moon's
glow, and one or two
are stars, that poke the dusk
through the hush of falling snow,
to the Summer warmth
of a shelter, where
onyx tinctured mares have wings,
to fly through at night.
Their snow-white wings
are soft as flour, and their hooves
are as magical
as the Ruby Shoes
in the dream.They tear through, weave
tatters into fear.
They tat a net,
with the silky gleam of tinsel,
to catch the diamonds
that prick the sky, cut
into an artist's canvas,
who paints this nightmare..
the very edge of 'morn
spills cream hues, lifts up a gold
rose. The river sparkles.
Imbued rose colors
of birth. Sky tinted billowed
petals, junked. Florid
gardens, immaculate.
Scents of citrus heavens. Bloodshot
tinctured cotton
colors. Rubicund
chalk crumbles, powders highlands
thrusting. An ingress
kerfs a hyloid
barrier. Cruer clots. Spook.
Cimmeran smudges.
Tempting balm tonics reposed fantasist,
Panacea liquifies mirage views,
Crafts allusive lofts energies persist,
Twain heart's favor lips a desire to schmooze.
Elixir defines the gist of lovers,
Exposes the length of listed measures,
Hearts and souls, supernatural pleasures,
Cascade gifted juice as meant lips puckers.
Charts a course of innumerable sips,
Bottled refinery impatient lips,
Passion extremes supple to its excess,
Forward sweethearts immortal kiss access.
Tinctured herbs ripen souls remarkably,
Drink-filled lovers strengthen eternally.
2019 October 15
Rhyme scheme; abab, cddc, eeff, gg
howmanysyllables;
14 lines x 10 syllables per = 140 syllables total
WAZOBIA LAND
Choicelessly I appear
On a tinctured lopsided land
A land with the best brains
But with the least development
A land flowing with milk and honey
But her sons and daughters are kwashiokored
A land favoured by nature
But cursed by greed
A land beautifully painted with diversity
But cursed by bigotry and sectionism
A land that has bidden equity and justice farewell
A land where sanity is sane
A land where cabalism rules
But democracy is portrayed
A land where we have the rule of men
And not the rule of law
A land where the gavel-holders are big-pocketed men
And not the judge
A land where “khakimen” oppress
And not defend
A land that has square pegs in its round holes
A land I wish I had a choice before coming into.
YEMI AFO
WAZOBIA LAND
Choicelessly I appear
On a tinctured lopsided land
A land with the best brains
But with the least development
A land flowing with milk and honey
But her sons and daughters are kwashiokored
A land favoured by nature
But cursed by greed
A land beautifully painted with diversity
But cursed by bigotry and sectionism
A land that has bidden equity and justice farewell
A land where sanity is sane
A land where cabalism rules
But democracy is portrayed
A land where we have the rule of men
And not the rule of law
A land where the gavel-holders are big-pocketed men
And not the judge
A land where “khakimen” oppress
And not defend
A land that has square pegs in its round holes
A land I wish I had a choice before coming into.
YEMI AFO
Where Eagles Soar
Flying far above the masses
In azured tinctured skies,
They fly independently.
For that, is where true class
lies!
They want no part of any
motley crew birds.
Just self-determined to fly as
they choose to do.
Never bowing their glorious
heads,
To seek recognition from any
tempters of glory!
With their widespread wings
they soar clearly with full
independence and no doubts.
And were I a bird, you would
find me an eagle.
Heaven forbid I walk on a leash
like a beagle!
June9, 2019
5pm PST
Light, essence white shines in beauty, eyes green,
human heart, spirit’s hull, please don’t despair,
life, your trials tinctured light-dark I’ve seen..,
you’re never alone; with you I am here.
Mortal being -- sainted soul -- hand in hand,
partnered; life’s pebbled footpaths, we do share.
Someday, we’ll traverse azure’s Promised Land..,
you’re never alone; with you I am here.
Free will; color palette pastel choices,
through hues of happiness or stains of fear,
muted disappointments, rich rejoices..,
you’re never alone; with you I am here.
Each tint a test each shade a solution,
lift song’s surrender to Him in prayer,
till final breath – Divine absolution..,
you’re never alone; with you I am here.
Susan Ashley
September 7, 2017
~ Second Place ~
Contest: Poems That Paint a Picture
Sponsor: Silent One
*based on painting by Saatchi provided by Silent One on contest page
Suddenly we appear
On a land with tinctured atmosphere
The cross, the moon and star
A sovereign state more ethnical than wazobia
A smooth and broad path before us
Hungry for our feet to break the hush
Alas the road becomes starved
With thorns and thistles upwardly breaking its soil
Like the ape, bigotry evolves
Extremist in every nook and cranny
Untamed by the scepter and khaki
Callously murdering people in cold blood
Enemies of peace lurking around
Refusing to walk in the path of love
Killing people with façade of hide and skin
The unpunished traitors of love and nationalism
Dedicated to those who lost their lives in Southern Kaduna massacre
YEMI AFO (2017)
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