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Sotto Poet Poem
nascent
dawn appears
kaleidoscope
of
color
midnight
sighs
leftovers
of
last night
plateful of
unsaid
words,
a
tablecloth
of rapier-sharp
folds
&
fireplace
dying
to be
kept
alive
sensitive
hearts
feel
powerful
in
mundane
rain
pelting
petals
think
of
others
when eating
remember
pigeon
food
when fighting
remember
seeking
peace
paying water-bill
remember
cloud-nursed
when homecoming
remember
homeless
campers
when sleeping
counting stars
remember
sleepless,
roofless
foodless
healthless
hopeless
be a candle
in
dark
snow
mixed
drizzle ...
dust-covered
man
holds
hand
of daughter
dying
slowly
under
slabs
of
concrete
life
illusion
dream
swoon
ecstasy
oblivion
1st Place Contest Winner
Written: February 14, 2023
YOUR SELECTION AGAIN Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Brian Strand
NOTE::THIS IS AN OPEN(organic) FORM VERSE using spaces&breaks without grammatical symbols ,the ' open' relies upon 'the one breath limitation' (intuitive cadence)& so inherently requires the 'reader' (reciter) to input and responds thus making this enigmatic form a two way interplay & interpretatIon unique to the moment& changing according to mood is inherently variable.
Copyright © Sotto Poet | Year Posted 2023
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Sotto Poet Poem
Written: September 05, 2023
This or That, Vol 20 Poetry Contest Sponsored by: Edward Ibeh
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In the Zen kingdom, where thoughts coincide.
Nihilism is a canopy of shade; it dares to confide.
A conflict between reason and meaninglessness.
The universe has wonders and incredible minuteness.
An all-powerful deity rules over
A cosmic dance where all is in order.
Nothing can occur without its sanction.
The omnipotent creator god is our ultimate captain.
Whispers of the divine echo through time.
Unveiling the mysteries, so sublime,
In the vast expanse of galaxies and stars,
The hand of the divine, crafting wonders afar
But amidst the grandeur, a question arises:
Does purpose exist, or are we just prizes?
In a universe so vast, can meaning be found?
Or are we simply adrift and unbound?
The nihilist argues that life is just a game.
No purpose, no meaning, just a cosmic flame,
Yet deep within our souls, a yearning remains.
For something greater, a purpose that sustains
The voices of the divine are calling to us.
To seek worth and to have faith and trust
In the pattern of an infinite power.
To discover meaning in every hour.
In the realm of Zen, we understand,
That the universe, so vast and grand,
Is not a void of chaos and despair,
But a canvas for us to discover and share.
The whispers of the Divine remind us all,
That we are not alone, destined to fall,
With faith and belief, we can find our way.
And create a purpose that will never stray.
So let us embrace the whispers divine,
And let them guide us, such a sacred shrine,
As in this enormous and magnificent universe,
We can wield our fate, for brighter or worse.
Copyright © Sotto Poet | Year Posted 2023
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Sotto Poet Poem
Written: October 25 2024 for Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Tom Woody
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Thrilling and alluring
hazard, affection, zeal, and heat
all the stated above
crimson, as a rose, is a sign of love
at all times evolving
when planets are aligned
color doesn't matter
because true love is blind
unseen for the most break
but only when glimpsed
mutable and undulating
colors are shifting
lasts only long enough
to be outrageous
love is a colorless mood
It is a heartfelt emotion
our eyes grasp everything
love stems from inclusion.
She hates frilly pink stuff
flavor, spice, everything squeamish
three sons and spouse
she shares blue but shuns others.
once drove a crimson race car.
young passion, now a yellow SUV.
easy access and exit.
deeply anchored, like her life.
Experts called her Autumn,
but what do they gasp?
to me, she’s summer,
colors bright and warm,
at times a little dusty,
like a sunlit kitchen.
so color her something,
it would just be opal—
a humble stone, but look deeply,
all the colors of the rainbow
explode from its heart.
When I am missing her:
I am just cobalt blue,
with emptiness...
when we are intimate:
I am a royal purple,
with happiness...
when I am working:
I am anxiously green,
with jealously...
when she is sick:
I am indigo, with
hopefulness...
Pleated, flirtatious hair.
release her loose braids.
with freckled cheeks.
She vibrates sweetly.
the furious downpour.
moistens dusty roads.
falling cobalt beads pitter.
rainy beat orchestra.
1st place contest winner.
Copyright © Sotto Poet | Year Posted 2024
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Sotto Poet Poem
Cars are the wind on the streets
semi-truck wheels shriek thunder,
rain shatters against stone and brick walls
on dusty roads, oak trees fence with twigs—
wushu wooden clatters.
Dreadful arrays of dryads
azure and amethyst gossamer haze,
sleek, silken strikes gist an opera of wisteria,
as they sway to silver breeze's sibilant rustles.
They chant lullabies in lyrical lilts of hued iridescence,
of hearth and opals back to my scarlet nest.
Angelus silver trills, the sylphic sways of pure rays,
Coral rosary—incense strands of aurulent rimes
hum, endless hymns echo as choral evensong
alleluias softly peal out—doves with wet eyes
that drift upward on whispery—ethereal wings.
Ocean's plea emerges from apothic abyss,
a voice conveys the core of faxed shores and stars,
with earth and wind in a solemn tone.
A cosmic biography—in loud squeals and sighs
sea vernacular hinges on nature's lasting awe.
Breath goes to fog—snow melts into puddles—rain returns,
a china-white grave—encases the deceased deer,
before thawing in the morning—icy skin lies frozen.
An eerie distance holds my hand in a purifying blizzard.
Copyright © Sotto Poet | Year Posted 2023
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Sotto Poet Poem
In a quiet Zen garden
the wind sweeps away
the fallen petals from the cherry blossom
In the mountain's shadow
covered with snow
white mountain peaks touch the sky
under the morning sun
Intertwining and resonating with each other
the essence of beauty
a beaten path of truth
This life was not traditional
though my mind longed
to view such strange dreams
I looked from the outside
through a window painted by time
I am a stranger in my being
I am fickle and insane
my soul has no fixed pattern
I have no conformity
I acquire my own
Written: January 24, 2023
Copyright © Sotto Poet | Year Posted 2023
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Sotto Poet Poem
In the realm of battles waged by fate,
Where heroes rise and villains bait,
There dwells a force, unconquerable, vast,
A nemesis, whose shadow is cast.
With nefarious intent, it seeks to harm,
An archenemy, a symbol of alarm.
It weaves its web of darkness deep,
Inflicting punishment vengefully does creep.
No hero can escape its relentless grip.
It thrives on conflicts, which none can skip.
A generic motivation, it lacks,
Driven only by the thrill of attacks
Its hubris knows no bounds; it knows no shame.
It believes it is beyond any blame.
But in the realm of battles, there lies a truth
Hubris and nemesis are intertwined, as wisdom and youth.
The nemesis, with its cunning ways,
Lures hubris into a treacherous maze.
It tempts the ego, fuels the fire,
Until the hubris burns, consumed by desire,
In the face of adversity, heroes must stand tall.
To face the nemesis and conquer it all.
But beware oh brave ones, of the hubris within.
For it blinds the wise, leading to their own sin.
In the realm of battles waged by fate,
Where heroes rise and villains bait,
There dwells a force, unconquerable, vast,
A nemesis, whose shadow is cast.
With nefarious intent, it seeks to harm,
An archenemy, a symbol of alarm.
But through perseverance and strength of will,
The heroes rise, and versus all odds, they fulfill
They learn from the past, the mistakes they've made,
And with newfound wisdom, they start to evade.
Word Bank
1/ Hubris: Excessive pride, presumption, or arrogance
Grandiose belief in one's personal ability, privilege, or infallibility
2/ Nemesis: A long-standing rival, downfall, or ruination of someone or something
Copyright © Sotto Poet | Year Posted 2023
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Sotto Poet Poem
A spark cast by a careless deed,
it catches fire and sparks twigs weed.
A hushed town that is dull at last,
a Careless deed, by a spark cast.
East winds howl to display their might,
and spout flames to a sturdy height.
Blaze any grace in that house foul,
to display their might, east winds howl.
Oh, fiery Fire, the town explodes!
with no farewell, let's hit the road.
One sleeps on tack others on dire,
the town explodes! Oh, fiery fire.
None shall remain where the wind passed,
this life, I think, can't be surpassed.
The town wept and the nation pain,
where the wind passed, none shall remain.
Written: October 05, 2022
Swap Quatrain Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Emile Pinet
https://www.rhymezone.com/ and
https://www.howmanysyllables.com: with 8 syllables in each line.
Copyright © Sotto Poet | Year Posted 2022
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Sotto Poet Poem
Written: January 27, 2024
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"Remember, the entrance door to the sanctuary is inside you. Why do you stay in prison when the door is so wide open? Move outside the tangle of fear-thinking".
Oh, a flimsy state over grief, issues, and dualism.
How do I find the inner sanctum of nihilism?
As the guillotine of deceit hangs in plain sight,
How tempting are laziness, ease, and blight?
True divine tandem can occur at a sacred site.
An inner haven as you dwell in glory and light
Yield the path to connecting with the infinite.
In an inner sanctum, calm flows over divine might.
Bewilderment seems sporadic at first glance.
Once you've linked culprits, anguish may trance.
I succumb when the climate renders them unwell.
Cluttered mounds of breadcrumbs lead to a swell.
Ascending free from ominous pits of dread,
Seeking trust across awareness lies ahead.
Sensing the heavenly spark that will soothe,
Illuminating the path leading to the truth.
Stillness enhances your perception of taste.
Find the light; the climate seems to be quaint.
How subtly do things reverse disastrous?
I often fall into that abyss, myself in vastness.
The stain of low scorn darkens in midst of trust.
I stroll into the dismal clay of scarlet excess dust.
The ruthless grasp buried inside suffocates life.
In empathy, I endure the agonizing pains of strife.
Invest oneself in each mission and excursion.
These wonderful events allow for sensations.
Mercury is in and out of phase, as is the moon.
Be mindful of your tongue. The lips are strewn.
Flawed sensory acumen of a stray mind,
uncovers a spiritual path within a gild divined.
The inner sanctum door unlocks at that sight.
While the tulip blossoms with glorious light.
The soul sparkles with astral splendor and sequins.
In a hallowed realm, where rays serve as beacons
In my self-searching dedication toward eternity.
Inward cosmic trends enrich my trust earnestly.
1st place contest winner / POTD
Copyright © Sotto Poet | Year Posted 2024
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Sotto Poet Poem
Rain follows the fading winter's breath
In the tangled field,
where bristly ryegrass sways
Emerging green, the blades do rise
glimmer in the verdant hue of shamrock
like the lively notes of the cuckoo's call
Whispers dance upon the undulating meadows
The fragrance of the soil—
its charm, a whisper of rain-kissed ground
Silver whispers of yearning
Softly sung, a memory lingers still.
Copyright © Sotto Poet | Year Posted 2025
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Sotto Poet Poem
Written: February 5th, 2024
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My heart is leaking blood,
I can view hatred flowing,
from every corner of the planet,
a volcano spewing nasty lava,
their voracious acts are suffocating,
the flower that has yet to bloom.
My heart is leaking blood,
antagonism and skepticism are rife,
a deadly snake is gently coiling,
and choke the breath of mankind,
to further their murderous impulses.
My heart is leaking blood,
since darkness invades the psyche,
steeped in narcissism and xenophobia,
a broken culture has misled people,
into thinking differently over faith,
both ethnicity and attire face a threat,
In self-interest and as an adversary.
My heart is leaking blood,
a soul-to-mind debate has ceased,
lurking by avarice and false tenets,
for the eminent aims of foes,
cultures will spread,
as history has predicted.
My heart is leaking blood,
In reply to the cruelty and abuse,
executed upon the cult's people,
despite being freed from rivals,
but have we freed our minds?
My heart is leaking blood,
to ignore these savage fringes,
who has infiltrated minds?
eating away the distinctive,
need mind cleansing before locations,
restored successfully,
everyone must be a self-reformer,
continually striving to be a dear person,
than they were before.
the light within will always guide you;
all you must do is listen and follow.
Copyright © Sotto Poet | Year Posted 2024
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