Beaming eyeballs,
and orbs,
from first blush,
offspring frolicsome,
as they dot,
geosmin odoured pavement,
whilst shrieking impishly,
with infectious,
cuddly cheep,
parents shepherd,
yet they exude,
at bounce captured,
cordial conducive,
in electrifying,
picturesque swathe,
orange-scorched oriole,
with coal-black plume,
on urban shade tree,
townscape as hub,
endowed cosmopolitan,
brimful brio, ginger, dash,
kundalini wakened,
as sultry vault,
vigilant ambience,
ample alignment to,
ice tea mint gust,
aroma mediating,
splash of amber sun wash,
neath navy welkins,
that taunt and sketch,
wooing ambit,
extracts of,
aroha’s
indigo index
With the wakened desire eerie, to be something,
It overgrows soon to be and have all-- everything;
The inner drive mounts a crazy tipsy horse clever,
Closes not on the unjust chase nor the goal ever
But for sure gets into too complex a confusion
That cannot find the fruition,lost in the delusion
A look back: and there is a huge, vast ruffled lot
Delinking time,space and the intent with each trot
Gone away are those that breathed full and wild,
Strong and firm against mind's all prompts mild,
With the darting strides sprinted with the gallop:
Somewhere in the dark corner of hope,all call up
Fostered,it grows fast ,certain only to disorder,
Distort the well cherished mettle yond the border;
The self overgrows toa monster,senseless of all:
The good and the noble,distant kith or kin, or pal;
One might loudly recall those tall conquests futile
And the great falls to the nadir in a bit short while
Darkness settles across the sky,
Bats flitting, begin to fly,
A howling wolf, set apart and aloof,
Eyes from the window cry.
Heroes secure in their proof,
The Vampyer, under castle roof,
Longing for past Love's tender ways,
Recoiling from lance and charger's hoof.
The drooling hound in restless pursuit bays,
The shining glory of all wakened days,
Vlad no longer rules the night or draws a fight,
For his recalcitrant sins, he bloody pays!
"Flowers fade and decay through wintry hours ~ waiting for rebirth."
~ quote by Constance La France
The fate of flowers, like the rose
is to fade, wither... decompose
Through Fall and Winter, the season colder
how quickly they molder
In depth of snow, they can't be seen
Petals buried, no longer green
A sad swan song, they'd sung with one last breath
knowing life ends in death
But when grasses carpet the lawn
and songbirds trill to welcome dawn
dormant flower bulbs will open their eyes
Wakened... they will arise
Early blooms emerge from the ground
Budding plants are suddenly found
Gardens abound with colorful delight
Nature makes things aright
In the season well known as Spring
Robins find voice to trill and sing
It's the time of thawing upon the Earth
Renewal and rebirth
on a sleepless night
Mary's boy wakened the song
of eternal joy
Bizarre and illogical
the successions of images
unthinking in the mind
the mixture of visual
experiences influenced by
the happening's of the
wakened world
ideas, emotions and sensations
Frustrations from the debate of
two people who believed that building
a bridge over the Cook Strait was
a good idea.
His restless mind found him trouble
he dreamed of him being on
a horse
along side a woman on
her horse
with ice-cream in there back pockets
with horses following them
It's beleived he awaken from
the dream inspired to
to build an under ground amphitheater
there he'd televise shows
across the world
L-ife
E-mbraces
A-wakened
S-incerity,
A-s
L-ove
G-uards
A-ll
D-estinies
O-penly.
©bfa062025
Monocrostic (Birthday of Lea B. Salgado)
BETTER
It's been better before
But it's even more better now
Even more so
God has wakened us,
in this present day
He has graced us in a new day
And we're in His way profitable
The seed exploration unstoppable And we are better in Him
Than we are alone real scene
Better in Him because
He's on the throne;
My God is my grace and my Savior Hallelujah
My God Our Father in Him we're better
And He never leave us alone
Heartfelt and uplifting poetic expression
Faithful and promised right direction
Evoking a sense of gratitude, hope,
and spiritual growth,
Highlighting benefits of faith and connection
With a higher power Resurrection
Gratitude and hope "It's been better before
But it's even more better now
Spiritual growth "God has wakened us,
in this present day He has graced us in a new day"
Faith and connection*: "We're better in Him
Than we are alone"
Divine guidance*: "He's on the throne
My God is my grace and my Savior"
The poem's message is inspiring and reassuring, conveying a sense of trust, faith, and devotion.
5/16/25
I have been tossed in raging tempest storms,
and dealt with life's stress far beyond the norm.
I've walked alone on nights of pouring rain,
felt blows of physical and mental pain.
I've gazed at stars glowing above my head,
tried to forget sorrowful things I dread.
Stayed in bed when the sunlight rose at dawn,
my window shades pulled tight, and curtains drawn.
There were hungry times with nothing to eat,
cried myself to sleep, verging on defeat.
I've wakened on mornings of birds singing...
the sound of church bells that I hear ringing.
Comforted knowing God, my Father cares,
Hope is my anchor, my burdens He bears.
It comes from time to time upon a wind
that wafts aromas fragrant to a mind
now wakened from long sleep.
And yet, perplexed, he is resigned
to yet again concede his own defeat,
a yoked, unequal partner, when they meet
as man and muse combined.
Then unannounced, it parts and leaves him much chagrined.
----------
A 'Mistress Bradstreet' stanza - 10a:10b:6c:8b:10d:10d:6b:12a
Raw is the madness
bathing me in crimson dreams -
those dreams surreal
in which I battle
all of the unholy beasts
I cannot fight against
when I am sane . . .
for sanity binds me
to the ground
so that in my wakened state
I can’t manage to rise up
as mighty as a warrior
against the many dragrons
spewing their demonic fire
across a woken land.
Reality's new normality
conceals the beasts' true nature
making them seem harmless
even making them seem good
Nonetheless
I see them . . . I hear them . . .
I smell their disgusting stench
I wait for Slumber Land to carry me
to the place where wicked dragons
easily are recognized
There I can be the real me
who I am down deep inside;
I draw my sword
and seething with raw madness
I slash away
Desolate life wanders in wanton wasteland in the dark
Assigned path for me I no longer can find, search in vain
Yearn with devout dedication God’s benevolent light
Seek its shine on me with the glow of His thousand suns
Transform at night into the shimmering star to guide me
Awakened by His gracious kindness I find way inward
Recognize in soul a lotus bloom with the sheen of His star
Waves of terror shock my core. Divided by silence ever more.
Echoes of rocks falling from my grave, A river flowing toward another day.
As time moves on, the shelter holds us forever strong.
Questions of madness arise and I am Wakened into this morning fright.
When I sang songs from a distance, they warned me I was only missing.
Recall moments of oblivion, as shadows cling to my existence.
Darkness has not overcome us and Our light guides us through this storm.
Will justice take us toward the oceans edge, can emerald skies give us peace or will we watch the end tonight?
Hunger gathers stars that do not move. the wandering lights get me into my groove. Cast diamonds off toward the Abyss. In void I sought my answers and kings bent their knees to the roses.
Through fog, through torrential tears,
Silence soothes my inner being, right
within confines of an upper room, where
skylight strummed melodies of rain.
there I was in converse with the Source;
And though I basked on goose down comfort,
The devil inside a glass pipe lingered;
but on that wintry night of envisioning
And deep soul-searching,
Distance and time were wedded as one, as
My soul traversed the land of my birth,
And I beheld vacation bible school days.
Upon my wakened psyche sat imprints of longings -
Such cravings for a fix of spiritual grub I'd not known
Yes, I spoke as my wobbly soul held hands of hope,
My dreams would whisk me from addiction.
Who knew divine intervention would bring me freedom?
Oh yes! this gift, this gift,
Twenty-two years and beyond,
I must tell someone.
*
Would you bring for me a rose bouquet?
Were I your love, that would be so sweet.
Surely it would brighten up my day.
And might you bring chocolates for me?
So sweet that would be. Am I your love -
the only one that you want to see?
And for me, a small bird would you bring?
Your love would feel like a melody
each time I heard the pretty bird sing.
Poetry from you I’d love to hear.
A melody with it too – so nice!
How I’d love to hear you sing it, Dear.
If none of these you’d bring, I’d not care.
So nice it is just to see your face.
How I would love just to have you there. . .
your face when I wakened and at night
your arms around me holding me tight.
Sub Categories
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.