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Tourmaline Poems - Poems about Tourmaline

Montage, Part One of Many

I stand
Standing upon the emerald landscape
posture stiff and still
Eyes like black holes
devouring the space around me
Glass horse galloping, prisms 
exploding through the plainlands
Time passes faster and faster 
the clouds cocoon and bloom
into a wrinkled face, 
nearing a necessary wail

I blink
A cliffside abbey, tourmaline waves 
crash into the fissured face
Hung to the horizon, dangling 
like a

Categories: tourmaline, dream, imagery, imagination, longing,
Form: Free verse

Tourmaline

Tourmaline filled with flawless obnubilated sheen
A soft expression of what your existence in my life does mean
How do you put a value on perfect connection?
It is as if you were meant to be my life's intersection 
Do you truly appreciate what you mean?
You are happiness personified within my observations glean.
Affection to you I will give

Categories: tourmaline, beautiful, girlfriend, lost love,
Form: Rhyme

October's Falling Leaves, Tourmaline

October's Falling Leaves (Tourmaline)

Frost glazed leaves
Of red and yellow sheens
Are strewn about by the breeze.

And it’s charming to trend
Tourmaline’s side-wend
To avoid stepping on them.

Then, she smiles back at me
Uttering in glee,
“October’s falling leaves.”
              ***

Note:
   The opal and pink tourmaline are

Categories: tourmaline, autumn, imagery, october,
Form: Verse

Book: Radiant Verses: A Journey Through Inspiring Poetry

Tourmaline Birthstone Cycle

October hushes
a cold snap, baldachin for 
red, brown and gold leaf. 
Indian summer waver, Indian rope trick 
sent to douse earthen world shackle.
Bogus heat pump transience.
Polar air mass scatters migrant bird 
on vibrant amber.
Ocean gust saline coated whisper
 to autumn eardrum host.
Nightscape shadows rudely cut across 
the afternoon event space.

Date posted : 19th October 2021

Categories: tourmaline, appreciation, art, autumn, birth,
Form: Imagism

The Mask of Tourmaline

Twice the night had fallen upon a sleepless slumber,
Yet again awoken by winter when the third was three in number.

I sense that a silence doth sneak ‘tween cracks of weathered wood,
Conniving with that which shadows show to those whose senses could. 

Turning my head to a feather’s peck from a pillow that knows its head,
Which

Categories: tourmaline, anxiety, horror, imagination, mystery,
Form: Couplet