Titular Poems

Cauldron Of Emptiness

The titular touch of day and night 
builds the bud layer by layer,
the blossomed design of destined time 
opens the petals,
the floral essence of existence 
gradually unfurls
the transient beauty of life, 
until the flower withers.

The wilting flower doesn’t even know 
when it’s time for the call to come 
in the cold night’s slashing silence 
from the abyss of the gloomy ground 
where it will fall
to disappear drifting 
to obscurity in the tempest of time.

On life’s rough garden path 
I walk the trudging moments,
steps tracing the last mile meandering 
to disappear at the vanishing point. 
The spectrum of the setting sun 
tinges the fading fringe of time,
turning into specks of eternity, 
sinking within the sated soul.
I float in the ethereal waves 
in the bay of infinite bliss,
drifting to the yonder shore, 
configured in the cauldron 
of timeless emptiness.

Sky Of Silence

The titular template 
of lyrical loneliness,
serenading spaced out 
the upbeat ethereal 
mystique melody
of dreams cadenced 
with rhythmic quietude,
invigorated by
the rhapsody of
the million idyllic steps 
I walk, 
setting free 
the hesitating heart
that quivers with 
the wilderness willows,
the concrete contours  
of inflexible essence
repudiate intractably
the catharsis reprisal,
I find a placating place 
at the serene edge 
of the stalled time,
sense sedated
by the sound of silence.

All the dreams 
blaze to emotive ember 
in memory inferno,
swathed by the ashes
I breathe besieged 
the smoky past,
whisper hollow words 
to the amorphous air,
for I have nothing 
more to say,
and silently float 
in the sky of nothingness
with splintered awareness,
the sulking space between 
the slices of soul,
where frail feelings 
get frozen,
the lattice of desolation 
is configured
with the shards of 
shapeless desire, 
turning to illusive images,
as they soar 
to void oblivion
in the solemn sky of
silence…

Bewitching Night

The dispersed dark specks drizzle down silently
from the cauldron of the infinite blankness,
that the sky shapes at the edge of the ductile dusk,
since the beginning of the titular time. 

The silken tapestry of the black blanket spreads slowly
as the twilight dissolves at the hinge of hazy horizon,
like the rinsed rainbow melting on the crumbled cloud,
from where the draping darkness flows with fluid night. 

The sound of silence echoes in the night sky ethereally,
wakes up the sleeping stars one by one to sparkle bright
in the bejeweled crown of the argentine ambiance,
where the moonbeam strands weave dream of you for me.

In the stardust sprinkled bewitching night I wait fervently
for you to emerge out of my dream like an angel,
walk in the craving corridor of my mesmerized mind,
as I let my longing drift in the air of night’s amorous allure.

In a Silent Way

The titular template of loneliness,
the spaced out unbeating ethereal melody,
the dreamy quiet beginning energized
in the million steps you walk,
setting free the agonized heart
that quivers the wilderness willows.
The outline of the unyielding essence
repudiates the catharsis reprisal,
you find a place at the edge of time,
and sense the sound of silence.

All the dreams blaze in an inferno,
you breathe the ashes of smoky memory,
whisper hollow words to the amorphous air,
for you’ve nothing more to say,
and silently float in the nothingness sky.
The space between the slices of soul,
where the frail feelings get frozen,
the lattice of desolation is configured
in the splinters of shapeless desire images,
and they fly away in a silent way.

Words

They are incantations,
holders of truth and lie,
they can be imprecations for bad or sly,
they are hammers that forge our lives,
implements which are sharp as knives,
mastering them may seem nigh,
one may think he is adroit in this art,
or it may be a mere start,
Here no element is a titular part,
some might think of them as banal,
in the world of today they are crucial,
oh so don't you belittle,
lot to learn in this field of imagination,
they are salient to the way of education,
They may be a boon or an imprecation,

Recombobulating Chaos

thoughts lick at my consciousness 
distracting me from the warm embrace
of the colour pallet unfolding
I stare with myopic eyes at the kaleidoscope
endeavouring to discern the demarcation 
of the edge of each shade
naming them as though they are listed on a colour chart
displayed at the local hardware store
but as soon as I have one splash of tint pinned down
it fades to be replaced by a more pleasing explosion of colour
a child’s toy impatiently twirled
a rainbow snipped into a multitude of shapes
in never to be repeated patterns

like an uxorious husband
it enfolds the evening sky in its loving embrace
its fleece soft fingers exploring 
lulled into a unison of consent
with a barely perceptible rush of contentment
a slight sibilant sigh issues 

memorialising daylight
clinging to the fringes of observation
the scene depicts its titular character
of moral decay
the riparian area jealously guards its supremacy 
as hydrophilic plants are robbed of their splendour

in a final display of defiance
alluvial fans buffet against the offing
recombobulating 
the natural order of Chaos:
The Great Deep of ancient mythology

Women In a Stadium

Always a tough business: Tournament
But women take along ornament:
Old Testament's and New Testament's 
They put it on, they're in firmaments...

Now and again for rearmament
Why can't it be in tournament?

"Sure, football is played in stadiums
But last week, I was here for idioms;
Our resource persons on podium,
A blaring microphone for medium

Stadiums some women storm for Legend,
Who shall their multiple worries end
To their feminine wishes bend
And, in short, a million naira lend:

Women not for men from the roadside,
Who should the other way face for bride:
The men worth their embrace or kiss
Ones in real, not titular office!

Spider the Civil Engineer

Fumigate the neglected rooms of Caleb,
Backing this up with prayers at Mount Horeb 
And tomorrow, another ever wavy web
From an irksome zeal that wouldn’t ebb!
Guess: from the Eight – Legged Catcher of Insect 
Which dares to its lodge near and inspect.

The Arachnid with a True Architect’s mind 
Never by civil engineers judged behind; 
Often swiftly replacing their cherished structures
Immodestly pulled down by no-nonsense cleaner: 
A painless recreation of the thread-like mixtures, 
At long last emerging their destroyer’s winner.

The spider’s masterful labyrinth – a dazzle 
The all-time brain-teasing cobweb and puzzle 
Its rating on scale, second to The Ant 
When it gets busy, still would not pant…

But watch it: A Harbinger of Vexations Nightmare 
For the weary one now running the sleeps-race
A sound slumber by ninety percent rare,
If the spider should decide to face a glazed face:
Satan’s snake I saw lose its life to Tarantula 
The kingly Spider with a hairiness that is titular.

Scratch My Back I Scratch Yours

The horse ken holds its bridle 
Is now almost his idol,
For him making A Winning Rider;
At Horse-Racing An Insider…  

A stallion that keeps ken on the popular,
Him fetching grand names and The Titular:
The Horse sure is getting some kisses 
No witness will see and reply with hisses;
Probably too a medal and a ribbon;
Some jibe to other horses to be reborn 

So, it is a “Scratch my back I scratch yours:”
Let me see somebody tell Ken “Who is at loss!”

Siren Sings Poe Home

"Siren Sings Poe Home"
 


Bells are ringing
Can you hear me singing?

Poe absent, finds his feet
6 feet under snow
Soul is free flying 
with black feathery things
Sharp knives slicing the cold 
Midnight wings 
dancing the Passepied 
with the tintinnabulation 
of swinging titular poets  
Murders of Crows
Christmas comes
Christmas goes

(LadyLabyrinth/2018)
Christmas, 2018. 




https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=CaGBQeJ6SgM




"Hear the sledges with the bells -
Silver bells!
What a world of merriment their melody foretells!" 




https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WnEUC4eZjjA

Testicular

For some unknown reason, I love the word titular
I know, I know, maybe coz it sounds naughty like diddler
Look I don't make this stuff up
There're others like cubbyhole and such
Never said I was perfect, in fact, I'm a bit testicular

History Vs Heresy

history vs heresy

historically limericks are bawdy
some are even quite naughty
a titular lass
a word playing ass
touching the edges of tawdry

John G. Lawless
©12/24/2017

Overbalancing

The space between the 
two ends,was becoming 
       a game of thorns.

The leprous increase 
tips the moon. An unseen
        virgin becomes red rose.

It was another day in 
the desert. I don’t want 
          to become a prophet.

A titular sun was 
collecting the lilies to 
          divide the night in halves.

Manipulating the nucleus, 
are you ready to accept 
          the uncommitted sin ?


Satish Verma

Fidelity's Duplicitous Door

Fealty's door was satin stained
Durable wood pulped from reliable strain
With blithe trim and decadent frills overlain
Lofty mantle Love's precedence to ordain
Interior with taut, strong fibers ingrain
Golden chain to seal our matrimonial domain

O'er time, your jaundiced mind did abstain
The frilly vows from the lacquered surface drain
The bonding fibers your incontinence could not restrain
Crown molding shrouding romance cankered with disdain
Titular mantle with self-serving goals rent in twain
In unrepentant rage, severed Oath's melding chain

" Whole Lotta Rosie "

Australian Rockers
Sydney boys
Man could they Rock
In Whole Lotta Rosie's Eyes
 
But one member 
Was the glint in her eye
The singer, Bon Scott
Rock n Roll ride
 
Their rhythm of love
Was the best he said
This titular woman
Rocked in bed
 
Her curved frame
Drove him to sing
42" - 39" - 56"
To commemorate their fling
 
She weighed in at nineteen stone
Bon the king, was her throne
The joy she brought, to the Australian Scot
Led him to write the lyrics sex taught
 
Let there be Rock
Where the track is from
Is AC/DC's anthem
Guitar so strong
 
What ever happened to this Rosie girl
Music history in the Rocker world
No longer we have Bon from Kirriemuir
I missed the chance, when they toured
 
But this awesome band
Nearly all Scottish born
True Rockers in any form
And about this track 
For this poem i write
Rosie and Bon
Good night
 
 
" written for Michele Nold-Godleske contest  Music to your Pen "
              and i thank you for the opportunity, Ty AC/DC

             http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/music.php

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