The roll of paper white now thin,
Grows threadbare, tattered and quite lean,
A silent signal, soft and low,
The final sheets starting to show.
Each tear a whisper, a slight grace,
As emptiness soon fills its place,
No more a buffer, soft and kind,
To replenish one can just find.
Like paper thinning, life recedes,
Fulfilling all its earthly deeds,
The gentle turning, day by day,
Leads to a quiet, waning ray.
With the bones slim, a fragile shroud,
Above the whispers of the crowd,
Each subtle shift stamps a sign,
Along the path of one`s lifeline
The roll will soon be spent and gone,
Beneath the supple shining sun,
A quiet sigh, a letting go,
As softer currents start to flow.
June
unfurls
golden hush~
fireflies drift out,
soft evenings linger,
warm breezes braid the dusk
lilies glow
waning
light
After each darkest nights,
maybe no one got me as full;
I was cresent everywhere,
hiding those invisible yet existent,
unworthy yet emotional part of me.
Thus, full Moon never shines now
forgetting the waning phases
like decades ago it did.
What do you say,
a bitter side of adulting?
striking f l a k e s of
w
h
i
t
e
p i e r c e through bitter cold darkness ~
stunningly
w
a
n
i
n
g
Arrived alive
departed dead
and the same
may be said
of all who tread
this weary world
of ours
less a milestone
more a speed bump
each Birthday
I perceive
and poetry
is but one way to fill
the waning hours for me
Trapped in lycanthropic manic cycles,
Flooding Water, Burning bibles.
Bones reshape, skins unknown
My flesh betrays what I know.
Impaled on thoughts of dawn and dusk,
I watch the clock with a mind I can’t trust,
Each click with growing disdain, My eyes start to strain.
Bound to Fear and Hunger my endless campaign
The moonlights carved it’s path in bone,
Forever imprisoned to bleed and groan.
Realizing my life was never my own,
The soil will now reclaim its loan.
As Springtime hovers in the wings
in early March, cold north winds rage.
We’ll soon feel winter’s last cold blast;
then Spring will thrive on center state.
At start of darkening eventide
The skyline brings lustre to one's eyes
As sun is slipping away from sight
The sky is a picturesque delight.
Trees grace the illustrious sunset
In serene, ebony silhouette
Stately they are standing in tableau
Against the radiant sunset show.
Time to let one's negative thoughts blow
Forgetting one's sorrows and their woe
To complete tasks waiting to be done
Afore one's dreamy dreams have begun.
In ethereal nightly gloaming
Lovers everywhere are out roaming
Beneath a magical starlit show
With a waning gibbous moon aglow.
My days and nights merge strangely into one
The waning moon transforms to blazing sun,
and time no longer means a single thing
My sanity has flown on tempter's wing
I see the world in muted shades of grey
My words get tangled up each time I pray
My thoughts are lost inside an endless maze
I walk from room to room in silent daze
The meaning of existence murky still
No dogma and no creed the void can fill
There's only Christ; the rest is circumstance
That afterlife exists, I'll take the chance
I count the moments of each passing day,
and try to make it through them, come what may
They say its darkest just before the dawn
Before the sun appears, my hope is gone
This world, this place, this room is just a tomb
I lie enshrouded here in cloths of gloom
Oblivion will keep me company
Till resurrection day, don't look for me.
Eileen Manassian Ghali
Written: March 09, 2024 For Charlotte Puddifoot Contest
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
with serendipitous moans—ocean lulls
It's russet embers
ignite her soul's quilled longings
she flies to bloomy sky-scape
last sigh of waning twilight
chirpy mirth—katydid sounds
waves of
soft silk canzone
to whispering crimson
of ephemeral serenade
waves of arid shadows— ebb in
blurring haze of lingering longing
besotted in spumy scatters sighing
In epicede of hushed Elysian quiddity
quixotic susurrus—shorebirds' sapidity
horizon in cinereous ululation of Peacocks
rainbows and sylphlike threnody
my heart too, mirths... waiting
for you to return to me—in spring
renascent wings wings of crimson
gold and plums of purples!
Amid the worldly chaos
And earthly blues
Wanes my beloved muse
Like the shattered clouds
My thoughts dissolve
But deep inside they echo
To narrate the fables piled-up
which have been swirling for a while,
The suffocated words strive
Awaiting the nimbus clouds
to cascade down...
For when the nimbus clouds gather
The fierce thunder will boom
And the words will drum aloud
When the rain falls,
hoarded thoughts will cascade
and the arid land will be loaded
But will the nimbus clouds gather?
Will it flow further?
Will the thunder drums play?
Will it rouse my dormant muse?
Will the lightning strikes spark?
Will waning muse step into a waxing phase?
"It will for sure..."
People say, I hear...
But when?
No one can answer...
Until then,
Waning me awaits...
dreaming of the waxing phase,
and relishing the chaotic state...
28-Aug -2023
When onyx skies bleed
rhinestones etched in regrets,
follow the silence;
Unsung sonatas
cradling watercolor spells
woven with magic—
from violet blaze,
beneath mulberry gloaming,
where dark poets rhyme.
But when summer rain
falls upon metal steel hearts
in cashmere cadence,
Listen to the breeze
swirling sunflower secrets
of forlorn fervor.
Amidst lavender
longings for pearlescent bliss
on glistening vines.
For even chained doves
think in dulcet runes that glow,
drawing moonlit dusks
Whilst saffron sunsets
with electric quills of faith
release healing ink.
But can scribbles veil
fog of doubt, when astral signs
mislead the naive?
Is "trust" a lost star
waning in a labyrinth
of mourning roses?
and "hope" a myth of dreamers?
Dewdrops are falling
The sky is calling
I can hear
The time is near
With tick tick of every hand
The particles of sand
are trickling downward
But I'm still a coward
I don't wanna believe
It's the time
And I cannot leave
The life sublime
The leaves are yellow
But I don't wanna go
When did it come
it's already autumn
As the sun waned, fading beyond the horizon's reach,
We stood there, hearts chilled, awaiting darkness' breach.
Uncertain, we pondered if a guiding light would appear,
To lead us through the night, dispelling our fear.
The sky painted in hues of dusky blue and gold,
Whispering secrets untold, stories yet to unfold.
In that moment, a yearning stirred deep within,
For a presence to guide us, to banish shadows' din.
The moon was full but now it's waning.
The sun is out yet it's steadily raining.
The devil's beating his wife but
she's not complaining.
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