An Orchestra Of Crying Plumes
A jay, in cobalt and sapphire
Perched aloft a leafless birch
Pouring water in a harried mire
And in her fluid songs I search
The buoy bequeathed for my mass
Yet there was not a single notch
Of reward, otherwise there was
A flawless, gaudy, vindictive mirror
Revealing the serrated patches
A lark, in the shadows of the fire
Ablaze behind the valiant sun
Sets autumn in times of dire
Thirst for a light, still, it waned
Into the very kiss of winter
Inside my prattling bones
Siphoning the ice the sun pilfered
And everything froze like a stone
A swallow, chirping mediocre tunes
Come along! Adhere and croon
To fester the slumbering runes
Where not a soul sings to swoon
Yet, in vain, the wind shall not
Cradle this monotonous wail
Dispensing the elegiac trot
Of despondence in the lilt's flail
A finch, singing the myriad of her palette
Connoisseur in painting the lifeless ages
With a subtle whimsy pirouette
Peppering the vacant pages
But how taut was the rivulet
That streamed across this land?
Washing away the prism
Of the lavish strands
That sew the gray schism.
poem by Norman Santos
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Related quotes
Segments Of A Circle
The stained-glass sky flounces and shatters
As the wonder of the night scintillates
Upon the sleeping skin of a promenade
In the circlet roads of a silent ballet
Light perched foots steps trample upon
The maladroit blotches of the porch lights
And beneath the maw of the waxing moon
Was the silhouette of a gaudy woman
She would always be the same woman
In her sapid vagueness, no peculiarities
No sobriquets, no facades, no niceties;
A plummeting ballet herself
She is always in the equipoise of my eyelids
At the beginning and end of rainy days
Quaffing the gray sketches of the atmosphere
Riding the blue winds of tranquilized euphoria
She is always out there like the chirps of a sparrow
Whenever the moon laze in her eiderdown couch
She would be leaning effulgently to kiss the stars
That incinerates with her enigma
Sometimes she would be tender like a conch's whisper
A surging lullaby standing by the bedpost
Crooning in the veranda and the breaking tides
In harmony with the sirens' song
Sometimes she would be a nightmare
A phantom crumpling every reverie
A pristine picture clawed by dementia
Pinned into the frangible ceiling
The nostalgia slumbering in her brittle bones,
The wonder combing her coal tresses,
And the buoyant nights in her screaming palms
Sometimes, I think I know this woman
Before the sun rise and set in the roof beams
I do try to cipher her riddling phantasm
A void silhouette with a potent effect
A salient ballet injured in a pirouette
Time after time, a voice behind the blear
Would wake me from this saccharine dream
Before the steely teeth of veracity would notch
And spray the poison in a treacle cup
And how many times have I denied—
Seeing you beneath the eaves of daylight
Without the mystery but still in anonymity
With the same nostalgia inside the nattering bones?
How many times have I seen you—
Your face elucidated by the hands of dawn
Your name flowing out of my derided lips
And sometimes, in my nacreous eyes?
I think I know this woman of sometimes
The flakes of her grandiosity and her horrors
Perched upon the equipoise of a cycle
In undisruptive segments of a circle
Sometimes, I think I know this circle
Thousand falcate roads for a ceaseless rat race
That never ends owed to the unstable segments
Alluring for ecstasy, calling for quietus.
poem by Norman Santos
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Simplistic Style. for J.T.Early
Winter is waiting in the wings
Until his turn to take the stage.
Amused at autumns posturings
He will create a pristine page
On which to paint in black and white
An austere winter beauty show.
Pictures dependent on the light
reflecting from the fallen snow.
He has a limited palette
Displaying his flawless technique.
Paints pictures you will not forget
because each picture is unique.
The gaudy autumn colours go
Replaced by winters coat of snow.
11/10/2009
http: // blog.myspace.com/poeticpiers
poem by Ivor Or Ivor.e Hogg
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
To The Culpable String
Sinking in this quagmire
like a strip of flesh
grinding inside
a quicksand of tarmac;
brambly and turbulent
your eyes - staring like
luminescent stars
descried my wallowing
in the black ribbon
of taut despondence
from the serrated fragments
lying on the floor
You unmade a tragedy
and recounted a tale
in stale slivers
cutting the fingers
with no urgency
not even a clue
hovering the soul
You improvised
a lustrous sheen
for my lackluster
and in the midst
of wanton catastrophe -
these vulpine hunters
and vulturine hungers
a madhouse
of sticks and bones
I do not know how
to repay your light
instilled inside
this eternal night
Thank you
for your generosity
and your luminosity
and for flaying
with the whims
of a hyena mocking
a golden lion
still and silent
as gold itself
poem by Norman Santos
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Music In Our Hearts
Music in our bones music in our hearts
Music in the air singing from a lark,
Sailing ‘cross the river moon
Beethoven sends dreams of the sonatas swoon,
Chopin lulls the senses, for applause,
Snowdrops ring the dainty bells cause
Daffodils start their famous dance,
With a Strauss waltz wafting a lilting breeze of trance
Music in our bones music in our hearts
Music in the air singing from a lark.
Memories of a T S Elliot poem find
Greatness to flow from Andrew Lloyd’s mind.
To drowned us in dreams of falling leaves,
Then Mozart lifts our souls up to the eaves,
His magic his mighty requiem of love
His music to God of all rises far above.
Music in our bones music in our hearts,
Music in the air singing from a lark.
poem by Ken e Hall
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Wind of Autumn
Wind of Autumn
Wind of autumn
Fire of summer-
Sweet girl of sixteen
Autumn without chirping
Of cuckoo in life-
Does not mean
How can the poets
Construct poetry;
If autumn remain far
Fire of summer
Looks wanton eye;
Say what you desire
Autumn knows the youth
Rainy day cloud;
O! Love rose begin.
poem by Bongokobida Zakaria
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Patches Of
patches of sunlight,
patches of clouds.
patches of Jesus,
patches of doubt.
patches of joy,
patches of pain.
patches of hope,
patches of strain.
patches of tomorrow,
patches of today.
patches of forever,
patches of 'cant stay'!
patches of loving,
patches of cold.
patches of youth,
patches of old.
patches of bravery.
patches of fear.
patches of happiness,
patches of tears.
patches of life,
patches of death.
patches of trying
with your last breath!
poem by Eric Cockrell
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Thirst
My spirit wails for water, water now!
My tongue is aching dry, my throat is hot
For water, fresh rain shaken from a bough,
Or dawn dews heavy in some leafy spot.
My hungry body's burning for a swim
In sunlit water where the air is cool,
As in Trout Valley where upon a limb
The golden finch sings sweetly to the pool.
Oh water, water, when the night is done,
When day steals gray-white through the windowpane,
Clear silver water when I wake, alone,
All impotent of parts, of fevered brain;
Pure water from a forest fountain first,
To wash me, cleanse me, and to quench my thirst!
poem by Claude McKay
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Magical Land of My Dreams
A silver key has locked me inside my own world, where I have
Lost myself inside the shadows of my dreams-
As would a thundercloud, my tears are like the rain that falls-
The sky would clear and as the sun would re-emerge,
Perhaps there is some levity inside this place of my reverie-
Having lost my soul and my spirit following close behind as a
Fledgling bird may have flown by within a moments notice,
I hear the ticking of a clock rhythmically keeping time to
The motion of my steps slowly walking away from
The confusion, fear, and destitution of veracity-
I am none but a silhouette slipping through a crack in the door
Leading to this place of my flight of the imagination-
I have lost myself along the way I once believed was paved for me alone,
Though only lead me towards madness
And to a world so vast, frightening and unfamiliar-
Running backward down that very same path until I arrived at
That mystifying door that was open for me alone,
That door only I could enter with that magical silver key,
I could hear the songs of angels singing tunes of love, peace and faith-
Stepping with caution over the threshold of that door,
As I closed it gently but firmly behind me-
Here inside this place where there are no hills and trees grow
With leaves of silver and a creek runs through in all of its crystalline clarity-
The sun here is just bright enough to guide me down a
Path of hope- and the people in this place are not threatening and
Are true to their word, innocuous, caring and promising that
Here tears are golden and only shed for joy-
No room for sadness, disappointment and fear in this miraculous land,
This magnificent place where I have been reborn-
I own a silver key and a special paintbrush with which I have painted
A rainbow across a sky of cerulean blue- along with phantasmal seraphs
With unyielding strength I have pushed all clouds away.
I listen to the joyous tunes of cherubs’ singing- I can see the reflection of
Peace flowers dancing in a cool breeze before the sapphire-hued pond-
My spirit and soul I once believed lost has been found here-
I have locked the door between myself and what so many have deemed as reality
With that phantasmal silver key and thrown it to the wind.
So many have believed that painted rainbows, crystalline creeks and ponds of sapphire-
Songs of angels and trees bearing leaves of silver
Are none but figments of my imagination- I have in a sense lost myself
Inside a world of my delusions but having abandoned fear, sadness and dismay-
This new found peace of mind has become my new reality –as that silver key is
Blowing about in the wind somewhere, some place a long distance upward in the sky-
I know I am safe here inside the shadows of my dreams- knowing that
All clouds have disappeared, my tears
Which have fallen with the rain of past days, are forever gone…
poem by Claudia Krizay
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Magical World of My Dreams
A silver key has locked me inside my own world, where I have
Lost myself inside the shadows of my dreams-
As would a thundercloud, my tears are like the rain that falls-
The sky would clear and as the sun would re-emerge,
Perhaps there is some levity inside this place of my reverie-
Having lost my soul and my spirit following close behind as a
Fledgling bird may have flown by within a moments notice,
I hear the ticking of a clock rhythmically keeping time to
The motion of my steps slowly walking away from
The confusion, fear, and destitution of veracity-
I am none but a silhouette slipping through a crack in the door
Leading to this place of my flight of the imagination-
I have lost myself along the way I once believed was paved for me alone,
Though only lead me towards madness
And to a world so vast, frightening and unfamiliar-
Running backward down that very same path until I arrived at
That mystifying door that was open for me alone,
That door only I could enter with that magical silver key,
I could hear the songs of angels singing tunes of love, peace and faith-
Stepping with caution over the threshold of that door,
As I closed it gently but firmly behind me-
Here inside this place where there are no hills and trees grow
With leaves of silver and a creek runs through in all of its crystalline clarity-
The sun here is just bright enough to guide me down a
Path of hope- and the people in this place are not threatening and
Are true to their word, innocuous, caring and promising that
Here tears are golden and only shed for joy-
No room for sadness, disappointment and fear in this miraculous land,
This magnificent place where I have been reborn-
I own a silver key and a special paintbrush with which I have painted
A rainbow across a sky of cerulean blue- along with phantasmal seraphs
With unyielding strength I have pushed all clouds away.
I listen to the joyous tunes of cherubs’ singing- I can see the reflection of
Peace flowers dancing in a cool breeze before the sapphire-hued pond-
My spirit and soul I once believed lost has been found here-
I have locked the door between myself and what so many have deemed as reality
With that phantasmal silver key and thrown it to the wind.
So many have believed that painted rainbows, crystalline creeks and ponds of sapphire-
Songs of angels and trees bearing leaves of silver
Are none but figments of my imagination- I have in a sense lost myself
Inside a world of my delusions but having abandoned fear, sadness and dismay-
This new found peace of mind has become my new reality –as that silver key is
Blowing about in the wind somewhere, some place a long distance upward in the sky-
I know I am safe here inside the shadows of my dreams- knowing that
All clouds have disappeared, my tears
Which have fallen with the rain of past days, are forever gone…
poem by Claudia Krizay
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Poor Cock Robin
My garden robin in the Spring
Was rapturous with glee,
And followed me with wistful wing
From pear to apple tree;
His melodies the summer long
He carolled with delight,
As if he could with jewelled song
Find favour in my sight.
And now that Autumn's in the air
He's singing singing still,
And yet somehow I cannot bear
The frenzy of his bill;
The keen wind ruffs his ruddy breast
As to bare boughs he clings;
The sun is sullen in the West
Yet still he sings and sings.
Soon, soon the legions of the snow
Will pitch their tents again,
And round my window-sill I know
He'll call for crumbs in vein;
The pulsing passion of his throat
Has hint of Winter woe;
The piercing sweetness of his note
entreats me not to go.
In vein, in vain, Oh valiant one,
You sing to bid me stay!
For all my life is in the sun
And I must fly away.
yet by no gold or orange glow
Will I be comforted,
Seeing blood-bright in bitter snow -
A robin dead.
poem by Robert William Service
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
My American Flag
Flag of the brave
Victory's only passage
With the Azure night
The dash of the fire ablaze
The stripe of pearly snow
Smybol of a victory
America's Victory
Soldiers true and brave
Trudging in the winter snow
Through the dark, hidden passage
The single, small fire ablaze
For I am of the dark night
Yet in my night:
I cry for victory,
I set my enemies ablaze,
For I am of the Brave
Within the hidden passage
The wind, the rain, the snow
Of the Sea, of the snow
Or hiding in the dark, cool night
Within every passage
In glorious victory
The symbol of the strong and brave
My fire within is ablaze
A Torch ablaze
The flash of falling snow
The strong and brave
In the night
Fighting for victory
leaving the passage
Victory has found a passage
The town is ablaze
Today is the victory
In the winter snow
The battle won this night
The shed blood of the brave
With the brave, in the passage
In the night, of the fire
Trudging in the snow, I won the victory
poem by Maria Robbins
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Gone Before the Storm
Setting nowhere
Darting through
Clouds of despondence
And I hoped
For taut strings
To be pulled
Or to be shorn.
In the passenger seat
Juxtaposed to an estranged man
I inquired a wonder as
The oblivious crystals slapped
The windshields,
"Is there a storm brewing? "
And he said "There is none."
Silence fell plummeting
With the constant beating
Of melted eyes
In the rigid sheens
Of the glass
And I have surmised
A thunderstorm
Inside the salty oceans
Of the bones.
I squirmed inside the chrysalis
Knowing that
The storm would not
Settle the willowing
Of serrated dusts
And I am running out
Of apologies.
The enigma is that
I am siphoned
Of rationality
But untouched
By naivety.
Everything slewed
Into the gutter
And I am to blame
For fulminating
The thunders
That beckoned
The coming storm
Do you hear me?
Can you see me fade?
poem by Norman Santos
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Collection Of Short Poems
MEANINGLESS
I looked into my soul
And saw a great emptiness that enswallowed me.
It was strange and it was dark.
A darkness so vast I fall into it.
Terrified, my heart froze
As fear’s ice hands griped it.
Big dreams and ambitions cut short by the shortness of life
My life now a black deep ocean to drown in
For this is now my fate for mine had being a vain pursuit for self.
DREAMS
The dreams,
These dreams that I dream when I sleep in my sleep.
Are so scary so dark that I awake to only find
That am trapped in the dusty dream of dreaminglessness.
Am lost like a codeless soul flowing in space.
Like a fading painting I evaporate losing myself in the mystic shadows of life.
I don’t know me;
I don’t feel me,
Am I dreaming or is this real?
The dreams,
These dreams that I dream when I sleep in my sleep.
These dreams that I dream are when my eyes are closed yet open
Are not for the faint hearted,
The dreams.
MIRROR, MIRROR, MIRROR
Internal reflections of my soul
Looking deep where I have never being before
I stand mouth agap at the images I see below.
Distorted images,
I can’t see me.
Is the mirror broken or is it the state f my soul?
Mirror, mirror, mirror!
Is there any hope at all?
Tell me now for I fear that I have completely lost my way.
Mirror…?
poem by Tigana Chileshe
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Changing Colour
The varied shades of grey of late,
Which have my palette been,
Are fading now through patient wait,
Revealing colours yet unseen.
Tones that glare with brightest hue,
Now occupy my prism,
Shafts of light enrich my view,
And sink my atavism.
poem by Greg Costello
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Winter's Fingers
I’m looking out of the window,
watching the rain turn to snow,
the land is running from winter’s grasp,
but naked trees mean autumn’s past.
Trees’ bony fingers reach for the sky,
but the pale grey sky is a little shy,
and will not answer their call,
no matter how big or how tall.
But the clouds do speak and answer,
with snow, the subtle breeze dancer,
and the snows’ frisky little caper,
covers the land and blankets nature.
The land is under a white membrane,
but on my side of the window frame,
all is cosy with the fire ablaze,
my window is now a frosty glaze.
poem by Dale Mullock
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Wind
O, wind! what saw you in the South,
In lilied meadows fair and far?
I saw a lover kiss his lass
New-won beneath the evening star.
O, wind! what saw you in the West
Of passing sweet that wooed your stay?
I saw a mother kneeling by
The cradle where her first-born lay.
O, wind! what saw you in the North
That you shall dream of evermore?
I saw a maiden keeping tryst
Upon a gray and haunted shore.
O, wind! what saw you in the East
That still of ancient dole you croon?
I saw a wan wreck on the waves
And a dead face beneath the moon.
poem by Lucy Maud Montgomery
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
The Autumn Months Splendor
The Autumn Months Melody
The hot summer days are gone and rolled by
The cool autumn months have once again arrived
The autumn majestic spirit permeates the land
It is another new day of autumn
The far sun above the horizon sends its rays and gentle warmth
on the valleys, mountains and hamlets
Nature has dressed in beautiful colors
The jolly trees are painted with red, yellow and brown
The autumn trees adorn the valleys and mountains that hug the skies
It is a portrait of panoramic dazzle
The brisk wind blows over the meadows
The cool wind sweeps the plains and fields
The tall trees dance and bow gently in grace
The tree branches hiss, swing and sway
The shivering leaves quiver with the wind
The green pastures are dotted with a mosaic
of dried brownish scattered leaves
Joining autumn happy symphony
The singing joyous birds, the playful beavers
The swimming silver fish in the water streams
All bring a solemn joy
The sun slowly climbs the immense skies
The autumn patchy clouds cast their shadows on the peaceful land
All painting an awesome picture of beauty, love and harmony
How beautiful are the melodies and splendor of the autumn months!
poem by Sherif Monem
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Flawless
Your beauty is flawless,
Denying me is merciless,
Leaving me lifeless,
Never a trace of happiness
Your neck is so flawless,
Can i make you wear the necklace?
My love for you is timeless,
Please never leave me in loneliness
Our building so flawless,
Building love so strongest,
Knowing your man is the mightest,
Defending being fearless
I thought you were tasteless,
Your saliva is so flawless,
Can never kiss you less,
Its you i love the most,
Prepared to face the rest,
And of course the cost,
And of course because,
Behold you are flawless
poem by Gaylord Munemo
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
Answer To A Child's Question
Do you ask what the birds say? The sparrow, the dove,
The linnet, and thrush say, 'I love and I love!'
In the winter they're silent, the wind is so strong;
What it says I don't know, but it sings a loud song.
But green leaves and blossoms, and sunny warm weather,
And singing, and loving, all come back together.
Then the lark is so brimful of gladness and love,
The green fields below him, the blue sky above,
That he sings, and he sings, and forever sings he--
'I love my Love, and my Love loves me!'
poem by Samuel Taylor Coleridge
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!
I Saw Him Again
I saw him again.
The last time I found him
Eating fervent fire and drinking wine
Reveling in the elegiac dusk
Uttering of cheap talks and of dusts
And on how vicariously cognizant he was
On how it precipitates and wan
From defying the plummeting
To catch the sun's elusive graze
To participate and transpire
In the esoteric feast of grace
Thus, he's reveling, to outlast.
I saw him again.
The last time I exhumed him
Thawed in the nook of the world
Like a vulpine fox, a surreptitious raven,
Perched at the hinges of the firmament
Wearily encumbered by his wry and fake smile
Malingering to part the doldrums and acquaint
With a superfluity of colours, brand new contours
Swaying with the scathes of the pendulum
Dousing the evil (replete and deplete) parting his lips,
Whittling the lulling stupors of a lullaby
Sundering the soul, the sea, the sky.
I saw him again.
The last time I muse upon him
He was enraptured by the curtaining rain
And vexed by the fandango of the sun;
They are both made of daggers to him
In his peripatetic stillness void of calm
He mused the pole-dance of the stars
Until his eyes are stark white and blind
From the suppurations of iridescent light
He searched for his unfathomable core, blindly,
And deciphered the ominous intricacy
Ousting him from the heraldry.
I saw him again.
The last time I saw him
He wore his suit of grandiosity
Graying from the long haul
His face devoid, his apathy ensconced
In the bones, in the constitutions
His eyes sprawled in the slumbering mirror
(Now half awake, half-barely-alive) ,
He smolder in flames to congeal
From the serrated remnants
Where verve and demise connive
To intertwine, and there perpetually die.
The next time I'll see him
I hope it will be in his funeral
Donned in an absolute smile.
poem by Norman Santos
Submitted by Poetry Lover
Vote! | Copy!