Reign of pearl shell hub haunts,
red rose bud scent woodsy,
riddle strewn engraved close,
redeems a gold throat verve,
relay sun cast tinctures,
rainbow spectrum gladden,
rousing spark, shrewd ethos
refuge bound coffee dock,
relish swirled oe’r fruit pie,
rekindles twin core fire,
rainy day swift chase off,
rejoice amid town cluster,
rank thumbnails on eclat,
resound a mirrored spell
‘When you are not fed love on a silver spoon, you learn to lick it off knives.’ - Lauren Eden
lilies and ravens
dance together making mud puddles
thick as salve caked on deep wounds
stemming not the ooze
tinctures from droppers
bitter herbs labeled for survival
use only as directed
replenish nothing
rancid birthday cakes
gleeful candles form dancing shadows
glassy story-telling eyes
yearn desperately
gleaming steel knives slice
neat little rows across the table
the sacrificial altar
where naked I lay
ignorant children
don't see the bullies in their own homes
doling birthrights like feed for
ravens and lilies
Written 8 April 2025
For the contest Light or Shadows hosted by Suzette Richards
At the most serene place where peace is sown,
Our laughter mingles with the scent of meals,
We unite, based on stories we have known,
The telling of these fables still appeals.
Many days we slept with tinctures of fear,
Though with scars, our lives scaled through many storms,
Somehow, our bond always wiped dry our tears,
Made cozy our beds, kept us safe and warm.
Many waters have passed under our bridge,
Yet all storms we weathered with love and grace,
And never once did we slip from the ridge,
No troubles could erase hope from our face.
Now our future shines bright and crystal clear,
A stroke of luck, and sorrow takes its flight,
Now filled with hope, we welcome with a cheer,
On a path that is clean, clear, right, and bright.
There's an eerie feeling in the air tonight.
Voices in the distance seem full of fright.
Crisp cold winds that blow
chilling to the bone...
leaves rustling in the darkness, unknown.
Silence even whispers loud the fear,
Silhouettes of ghosts on trees' barks appear,
waving mystic spears that sang in the winds
heard only by already frightened minds.
The wings of both the devil and the angels
confused the eyes by the winds that dishelves
the tinctures of darkness and light in the clouds,
that separated the moon from the stars in the crowds,
A frog nearby, its eyes full of dark fright,
it jolted a snake, its body slick and tight.
It fell on my head and I fainted in my fears.
But quickly woken up by its hissing near my ears.
I ran helter-skelter, the snake joined me
but 'twas the humming of a flying bee,
that stopped my run, only to find my heart
hanging out as the snake and the bee depart.
With fear I begged Halloween to stop its torment,
it refused while darkness still was present.
Then, I heard the approaching steps of sunlights,
that was when I was freed from all my frights.
Bursting shades of fire ember sweet desire
an Orange Jubilee, bathing in the sun
Wild charmed poppies, blushing sunsets
paprika colored dahlias blowing in the wind;
Nostalgic golden lights of evening twilight
resplendent in vivid splashes of yellow
Brass dreams tinted with soul's aspire,
a wedding band of love that's timeless, old.
Tinctures of diamond hues of sapphire
indigo skies of teal, a planetary cosmic,
infinite as the heavens that filled the stars *
Blue corn moments of sweetness,
the artist's palette shimmers with light
Starry Starry Night, twirling gazes
barely grazing, each color begins to bleed
beneath the morning fields of amber gray
Overlaid in silver the graying tones of life
muted to perfection, a priceless heirloom.
Impearled rosary beads, fingers turn
the sterling breaths of love begin anew.
Paint not in shades that don't belong to you
for even God alone could not replace the hue,
create the perfect shade in you, dear one
and don't forget to be the best that you can be.
on endless summer days
winter's feeble sun
apothecary of toxic tinctures
phantom of the night
Contraire
by Michael R. Burch
Where there was nothing
but emptiness
and hollow chaos and despair,
I sought Her ...
finding only the darkness
and mournful silence
of the wind entangling her hair.
Yet her name was like prayer.
Now she is the vast
starry tinctures of emptiness
flickering everywhere
within me and about me.
Yes, she is the darkness,
and she is the silence
of twilight and the night air.
Yes, she is the chaos
and she is the madness
and they call her Contraire.
Keywords/Tags: contrast, confusion, emptiness, chaos, emotions, despair, depression, dark, darkness, night, silence, twilight, madness, contrary, contrariness, loneliness
The sky, so overwhelming..
it simply beckons,
grabs you..draws
you to its changing colors..
The sky shifts with the sun,
that skims across like a Winter
of Alaskan full moons
in the twilight of my life.
The sky tosses the fires
into edges; strokes the tips,
the belly, the limbs of the trees..
my spirit takes the trees' shape
as it extends my arms upward,
to feel the dusky peach-salmon
tints at the root of a soft cool night;
after deep butter yellows
have pressed this sky,
and the daylight had dressed
the plowed earth in iridescence,
as I, like the honorable trees,
stay rooted in Nature's soil.
The night will descend
with its violet-onyx hues;
the sterling silver stars,
the multi-rose tinctures
of man-made light will emerge.
My silhouette, with the trees',
will disappear, slip into the dark.
A lone black crow
sits on a limb of a tree
amongst a crowd of trees
that surround the townhouses.
The trees' silhouettes
are drawn on the brick;
on the shingled roofs;
by the Sun this Late January.
The dark shape of the crow
is starker than the trees' cast
of the night color; it is spectre-like,
within the arms of the spectator-like trees.
The branches are frosted with yesterday's spitting snowflakes.
Their bark is the tint of stones;
or the grains of sand on an Irish shore,
viewed on the one rainy day
of a journey so long ago.
A squirrel scurrying up the tree
is the same color-
of the rough or smooth stone,
bleached by the Sun;
of the wet sand of the shore in Ireland,
whose dunes crouch to watch the tides ebb,
to see the pull of the floating Moon.
The squirrel blends into the mourning dove
tinctures as if he were a captive
of the Winter day..
or brushstroked into an oil painting.
The crow, hue of a cold desert night,
lifts to fly away.
The shadows become new shapes
in the shifting sunlight..
they become charcoal spirits
in her sketch of an agued morn'.
The warble,
round like the earth and its sky,
land colors
of flour-
soft feathers, sits with its peers.
The blue hills,
a sea-tinted
mountainous shape against Spring's
sun-lit edge
is a harbor
for the winged creatures, amongst
a budding
tree, windy
caress of grass, the sandy
dirt of foot-
prints. A stream
gushes downwards, its silver drops
crest into waves,
the multi-
tinctures of the stones under
the silken
glassiness
are a congregation. The bird
flies away.
The warble,
round like the earth and its sky,
land colors
of flour-
soft feathers, sits with its peers.
The blue hills,
a sea-tinted
mountainous shape against Spring's
sun-lit edge
is a harbor
for the winged creatures, amongst
a budding
tree, windy
caress of grass, the sandy
dirt of foot-
prints. A stream
gushes downwards, its silver drops
crest like waves,
the multi-
tinctures of the stones under
the silken
glassiness
are a congregation. The bird
flies away.
Broad reach branches, dark scarred where limbs emit
Bounce shade places, host seat of friendship
Parasitic Mistletoe grows yellow finger medicinal cure
Administered in tinctures mixed by druid pure
Ailing then prevaing, seas writhe with full school fish
Activated magic captured unwraps each wish
Ordained as safe keepers for an original environment
Aeromancy conjurs storms, thus alter climate
Warriors tosseling with authority implement petitions
Praised psychic saints deploy predestination
Sigil symbols fester desire for securing forest density
Hydrophants, flaminica consult power of Siri
Circle hospitable to village folk, sitting without seam
Cherishing nature draws them in daos creed
Respectful ring around mother, wizened mighty Oak
Nature maintained deity, optimal aim evoked
17th December
- Celtic champions -
Autumn colours drift down like aubergine
Catch carelessly a crimson columbine
Chestnut leaves flutter
Auburn tinctures drop down like treasure troves
Gather gently from glossy golden groves
Amber blades clutter
Sepia hues dance down like floating planes
Amass amply those amazing remains
Ginger fronds putter
~~~~~~~
08.15.2020
Contest: Tail Rhyme Stanza poetry
Sponsor: Emile Pinet
Morning brews sunrise colors-
yolk yellow seeping over
edges; light sterling silver
strung; rubbed linens ironed
across the rim. The creatural
world-a lime olive, sea blue
cup- has a view from space:
mottled tints- mud grey, green. Deep.
Sienna red flames bedewed.
Aged worn cotton tinctures-
the crumpled fabrics' wrinkles
are mountains, hills, cliffs ingrained.
Threads netted- the indigenous
lives captive-evolution.
They tat the stretched skies, royal.
From beats the animus- birth;
sprouting; feathery gardens
open to the sun. Roots plow.
Volcanic lands thrust- beryl
hues are the telluric gloss
of... diamonds. Hope. Pearl flushes-
scents of the wash of Summers.
Peach -brown malts- inebriation
of puissance. Grains reaped, ablaze
in Autumn afternoons. Stoked,
ground into mealy givings.
Marl nectare, fertility.
Corollas of heaven- O'Keefe.
Pieces of immortality,
tinctures of rhyme
Living inside the moment
—wholly sublime
(Dreamsleep: February, 2020)
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