Searching deep in darkened places,
Reaching into vacant spaces,
I touch only shadowy faces….
Where are you?
Empty caves in endless mountains,
Dusty, dry, neglected fountains,
Pathless, groping I move, hoping.
Where are you?
Past songless birds on leafless trees,
Across waveless oceans, and silent
seas, through fumbling nights that
find no day,
I move and try to find my way.
Is this a picture
of the crumbling edge of a new day
or a snapshot of its departure?
I photograph daylight
as it leaks into the plastic hearses
of empty bottles.
Moths undaunted by a sickly sun
turn carnivorous, seeking morsels
of whiff and wisps.
The world keeps wearing its clothes
though there is less of everything,
colorless rags hang up
along thorny margins.
The earth wallows
within waveless mists and shadows.
All is gray and astray,
the way an old man’s peppery hair
is whipped by an ashen air
funneled through hollow lands.
Somewhere
beneath an unseen horizon
scarecrows croon
over sunflower bones.
Embraced by the Night
as it falls slowly onto my lap,
its face loses warmth,
the cold overtakes the residual
heat as it leaves its system,
abandoned by its devoted
owls of city life,
waveless emotions fill
the tattered streets of
forgotten memories.
The shadows remember
imprinting every visitor
of each generation,
cursed to loneliness
and the unfriendly
familiarity of flashing
synthetic lights carved
alongside each street
corner advertising
its owner's utopia.
The air fills with delectable
treats,
salty and sweet fleeting
away in a cloud
huffing and puffing,
the smoke blazes
through tone-deaf
voices of drunkards
passed out by the trash
bins living and breathing
on the sounds of past
regrets wandering through
painstaking artistry,
only a smoke and a sip
can endure the frost
in this City’s jagged
itinerary
windless night
enchants waveless pond
floating stars
They walked barefoot on the wet sand.
The hot sun had dipped beyond the horizon.
The brine and fresh air intertwined,
How pleasant to walk hand in hand!
Occasionally she would stoop,
Her wedding ring glinting in the dying sun.
She would search for lovely decorated shells,
Whilst he tried throwing flat stones
Across the calm stretch of the waveless sea.
Finally, they had to turn back to their inn.
The access to the beach stopped their tracks.
Large rocks hindered further progress.
They did not mind really. It was dark now.
Their previous footprints were almost obliterated.
Above the dark sky like sequins glittered stars.
They arrived at the inn, finely prepared.
They found champagne and sipping all
Until they fell into a deep restful sleep.
The blackbird wants to sing a song.
What song?
A song of freedom
But its fragile beak is tied.
The blackbird lives on the Island.
Where the Aubrey's tongue
Is tonged with coal.
And black veil worn upon her head.
When she chirps, it's unheard.
When she spittle, it's waveless.
She's chained to the bottomless pit.
With flashes of lashes on her feet.
She sounds the horn to be free.
From the yolk of her black veil.
The lyre to be who and what she's
And not what the sky paints her hues.
The blackbirds ask.
Is the black veil not worse?
To barrage of bullets
Or hail and brimstone.
Is it not a totem of submission?
Under the guise of religion
Stamp of chauvinism and bigotry.
Or forged as a tool for Eros?
Iran, the blackbird's drum is gyring.
But the eagle's ear is deaf.
The mountain smoke is searing.
But the hyena cannot perceive.
a tempest rages
in a ringing shell
sleep slopes down
into waveless depths
The mind has miles
leagues foreshadowing
the whole span of a moment
in full
A gulls gullet opens -
it speaks of sea-dreams
never remembered
a child looks out beyond
a plunging bed
to a place
where legs dangle
over old age
Everybody says that forgetting
the one we loved is unfair, cruel, and silly;
don't attempt to bury recollections under rocks,
and instead of burning them completely,
express bitterness for a sad ending...
although the fervent sentiment never stops!
Search for the fondness of words,
delve deeper into your awareness
and the skeletons of regret won't rebuke
the conscience for the unappreciated value
of all the exciting life they led once,
and the preciousness they still constitute!
Does anyone admit that continue living
without forgiving is an act of unmercifulness?
Should we love ourselves more or less,
never appreciating the joy of giving and sharing?
Pierce the sunless skies with daring eyes,
beyond them, there's an incredible blueness...
not matched or displayed by waveless seas;
what lies ahead is an array of vast universes!
Amid sand dunes look around for faces
on roads and streets, through spectacles
eyes dwell on the sky, trees, and birds
albino clouds set sail as if to merge
the fecundity of green leaves, blink eyelids
as the bright sun pulls off the night's skin
groggy eyes peep out of a deep sleep
a line of fishing boats stuck on the beach
mine bobs silently on a waveless sea
The fetor, threat of death, on the streets
but the lanes, bylanes, and roads lead on
to tree-lined avenues and highways
pour strong ingredients into the melting pot
and a broad smile lights up the sulky face
The garden, it is fast asleep,
Or so it would appear—
I wonder what the Roses dream,
Of dewdrops cool, and clear?
So peacefully they are folded
For their midnight reverie—
Still as a day without a breeze,
Or a waveless azure sea.
And I watched them from a distance
Being curious to know—
What dreams entice the Daffodil
As they slumber sweetly so?
A thousand sighs whisper
Across the starry night.
An echo unreachable
Like a snowflake lost from sight.
Awakens a longing, that internal beat,
an ancient music tuned, to the
shimmering of the desert heat.
Turning ten thousand pages
Upon waveless shores,
weeping each moment of
time missed of the passing ages.
***************************
Summer sand soft and sultry,
Salty sweat, sweet and wet.
Wistless wind, waveless water,
Bathers baking, basking burning
Seagull scavenger of shiny sea
Searching, scurrying squabling over scraps.
Wandering women walk with will
Wondering why weight won’t wither.
Trembling toddlers take tentative steps
Towards towering tidal tempest
Cumulonimbus clouds clearing
Silent sky screaming
Silken sunlight streaming
Doting Dad daydreaming
"Call me June."
Her voice is like fragile glass
Hand outstretched, fiery smile
Ivory skin smoother than a waveless sea
Her infinite charm is all I could see.
"June May,"
I laughed, she shifted
Close to me, skin to skin
Her ebony hair sprawled on silk bed
Always had that faint lavender smell.
"Yellow Roses."
Her favourite, she said
I could give her a dozen, bid my farewell
But I knew I couldn't, shouldn't
And she knew it as well.
"It's okay,"
I whispered as she cried
Mascara tainted her porcelain face
Clock struck six, time for me to go
She sighed, her husband would soon be home.
"My daughter's five,"
She replied, though I hadn't asked
Her eyes, rocky hue of experience and emotions
Have seen twenty-nine summers pass by
While I have seen only twenty-five.
"I'm fine,"
Her voice cracked, just like fragile glass
Bloodshot eyes, trembling hands told otherwise
Soaked in guilt, drowning in lies
Slipping away, she tries to stay alive.
"I'm here, June."
Dressed in all black, she in white
I give her a rose, Red, Yellow was not a choice
Strange. I saw, only a single rose, mine alone, lay
Weeping quietly, on the lonely grave of Juniper May.
When the surreal dream of the sun highlights the waveless rive
The echo of peaceful nature fills the space
Life convenes together in adoration for the Nymph
I will come to thee
You are a beautiful spirit, a lustrous Queen
Wielding seduction without knowing
So far from me I wilt in erotic despair
Weakened by your fragments and legs of porcelain precision
I picture myself appeasing you on a rosary pedals splattered sheets
Dying to the unearthly grace you present
When you awake I feel you are the definition of elegant life
Expending a perverted night, expending my lustful thoughts
I would surrender myself to splendor of her loving caress
Underneath pale moonlight, weaving a poetic spell
Kissing becomes feverous, stolen by whispering love
Beneath the stars my heart goes thin, she calls for me in my mind
She fades like all unrealistic fantasies
It’s infernal but I must say this
Victoria
I see your face in every sense of desire flame
You only have yourself to blame
You know I want you so bad
Mon Cherie thinking of you is driving me mad
Out of all the women I’ve feasted my eyes on
They pale in comparison to you
No, they are not you
I’d rather keep on yearning
“ETHIOPE RIVERSIDE”
[BY OHWOJEVWE ESE GANIYU]
How come
We once paddled our canoe
Along river Ethiope
And nobody saw us
Come and go
Till tides come
When sweet memories
Of Ethiope riverside
We cannot remember
Is it those delta bitches
At the river motel
It is those water baths
Where we saw people
Pulled into the river
Drowned in the river
Dive into the river
Whose waterbed you see
From the riverside
Of Ethiope river
Hence they tell
Their natives
Not to go to their river
When tis tides
To mark the annual
Drowning in the festival
Where mother Ethiope
Must swallow alive
One internet book seeker
Whose immersion is alive
While their resurrection
Is stone dead
Half breathing
Half dying
From the waveless flow
Of the waters
At Ethiope riverside.
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.