—Paint My Love—
Come, paint my love, where silence dares to speak;
let oils transfigure what words dare conceal,
bid every hue reveal the fire I seek,
till secret ardours make the unseen real;
paint not the visible, but inward light
where love's unspoken immensities hide,
let every strange tincture enchant the sight
till secret tides within my bosom bide;
yet one true hand must pierce my veiled desire,
no mimic craft shall counterfeit the fire;
I'll set AI to test each living wire,
and crown the hand whose hues make love aspire;
though ladies vie, one only shall be crown'd—
her prize, my heart, where all my loves are bound.
Blunt sense sharpened by subtle trance
lacerates the languishing psyche
that doesn’t slink,
unwary of mortal deception.
The shards of singularity
transfigure in a blink
into passion potion of dreams,
adrift in ephemeral delusive flow,
porous essence sips the sanguine drink.
I hear you calling my name.
You almost had me already.
There is no shame.
Slow and steady.
You are not tame.
I come intrigued.
I see a dark figure.
Your words are egged and leave me fatigued.
You want to see a transfigure.
Though you are leagued.
There are plenty of you.
This is not your mind.
There is no breakthrough.
No way to bind.
This leaves me blue.
It should have been.
The grave is not the final destination.
The proof is my skin.
You will go through castration.
I can't help but grin.
What fire doesn't burn?
What passion doesn't waste?
What desire still persists
when you have known its taste?
What can bind the roving eye,
Pull the riddle-knot apart?
Who can teach me to transfigure
the sultan in my heart?
12 August 2024
Change, watchword of our time
Change without reason, capricious crime
Reform, reconstruct, recast, revise
Change for change-sake – foolish, unwise
Alter, adjust, adapt, amend
Constant change blurs to no end
Transform, transmute, transfigure
Change, all jolts and jarring triggers
Change, our brains from our bodies derange
Change, our souls from the cosmos estrange
Everything roundabout and under the sun has its season.
All occurrences, whether good or evil, happens for a reason.
No man can transfigure the future, nor venture back into the past.
‘Tis wasted energy to cherish brick and mortar that will not last.
To what end comes all that man has made but returns to dust?
His monuments, his skyscrapers, and towers all shall turn to rust.
What comes of silver, gold, rubies, and other such riches?
What value are these material things which are found in ditches?
To what end come, men of power, living in castles in the sky?
No different than one, who toils in the fields, all are destined to die.
This life is much like a candle, flickering in the night.
Some cause calamity, some illuminates, and then suddenly fade from sight.
And what of the driving force that propels this mass?
Is it an entity that continues on, or does it fade and whither as a blade of grass?
Always, there will be trials, tribulations, troubles, and strife.
Different paths to venture down, during this event called life.
When curse finally
Transfigure into blessings,
Her renewed true form
Transforms all of the lies taught
Into a future of truth.
Transfigure each atom of form
To become living light
Swathed in cascading bliss throbs warm
Heightened is heart’s delight
Head and heart alignment
Flowing in contentment
Soul glow luminescent
Configure
Transfigure
09-March-2022
Quietus
Threads weave tapestry from words
Supplicate webs of magic carpets
Embalm clandestine fantasy worlds
Meander from sourcing the delta
Revisit memories’ dream catchers
Transfigure images into quietude
25th April 2020
In a sky stained with black and white tinges, the moon slowly rose,
Interspersed a being and a storehouse of innocuous anecdote.
Innumerable starlings clove the air,
Even with mawkishly effeminate sentiment and soullessness.
Yet, the brassbound stood bold before the austere hand of adversity and drill,
In the moments of pleasure, utter idleness and insipidity,
Moods of vindictive recoils visible like a new dawn,
At times, oddly disappointing and fickle.
Many people priced but couldn't pay,
And the rest paid but couldn't price,
A golden twilight set to transfigure the world,
The soul pelted with honour, dignity and an interminable torrent of words.
Radiant with the beautiful glamour of youth,
A supreme arbiter of conduct,
Not sunk in a phraseological quagmire,
Like the pristine freshness of spring badly described by a common maxim.
It's not a brand of merchandize,
So I wonder when it would be sold.
Far from a title or characteristic of a man,
Integrity is a way of life I have embraced till the end of time.
Those chances I take
transfigure my brain
The risk and reward
metaphysically the same
They rush through my spirit
all fear on the run
Transformation now total
—the cost zero-sum
(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2015)
Seeking Serenity
To seek serenity is simpler said than done
at times so filled with sadnesses that come and go.
When one's resolved or healed, another has begun...
nowhere to go; nowhere to hide, nowhere to run.
The choice...stay put, adapt, relaxing with life's flow.
Support comes from inside with paths to guide us through,
adjusting thoughts to glorify life's peaceful side,
embracing joy beneath the sun and skies of blue.
Hope, love, and faith can transfigure the darkest view!
Serenity...the calm...to where we steer life's ride.
Sandra M. Haight
~9th Place~
Contest: Rhyme Battle XI
Sponsor: Juli- Michelle
Judged: 12/05/1018
~10th Place~
Premiere Contest: Late May 2018
Sponsor: Brian Strand
Judged: 05/29/2018
~2nd Place~
Contest: Rhyme Time 2
Sponsor: Laura Loo
Judged: 04/24/2018
Rhyme Scheme: ABAAB CDCCD
The chances I take
transfigure my brain
The harm and the risk
metaphysically the same
They rush through my spirit
all fear on the run
Transformation now total
—the cost zero-sum
(Villanova Pennsylvania: March, 2015)
Matters little when life like a lifeless leaf in the wind trembles
Surging forth, seeking serenity, summoning common sense
In quarters cut off from conversation and creative communication mumbles
As couples lost in the mendacity miasma boast and coast in notoriety nonsense.
Matters less when fickle fantasy like a nightmare numbs
Reason imprisoned in a zone unzipped from progress
In circumstances and instances that indifference hums
As couples cooped and hooked on catastrophe create chaos and retrogress.
Matters more when sense and its essence like transformers matrimony transfigure
Sanity, supporting insanity and inanity as egos soar to the fore
In debates fed on acrimony and the prospect of an alimony figure
Lures and miscues clues that hurt the matrimony core on its floor.
Matters little when fuss like spittle fumbles and grumbles
Assuming pantagruelian proportions and portions in misnamed missions
Built on the back of vanity whose futility fumbles and crumbles
When prospects of separation and alienation fuel and fly freak, frenzy frictions.
Music was his passion
from his yearly years,
his voice, his weapon -
the signature of his life.
In his compositions
there is freedom for all Nations,
freedom for everyone,
in his astounding sounds.
In his uplifting melodies,
he can transfigure
the man for better being,
be it homeless man
or the corrupt ruler king
and so noble is his music
as Paderewski only could be
in the salvos of his tones.
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