Every word should flow as wind
through feathered chimes
Syllables should embrace with
passion that transcends time
Memorable, unlike the fading
dream lost with the dawn
Molding verse into a mental
picture that cannot be drawn
Intangible paintings that
become a moving image
Holding the heart in a state
of sentimental scrimmage
For it is conflicting to say “a poem should not mean but be”
As ‘creating an emotional response’ is the very Art of Poetry
Simply glancing over his piece one may feel that his approach to poetry was that it should carry not meaning but simply a bunch of descriptions of poetry itself; but it is the general thought that his meaning was 'rather than rely on truths and meaning only, rely on images that help to heighten the senses and emotions without caging one in the finite world.'
But taking the poem at face value, as many have, I decided to focus solely on the importance of poetry existing with meaning and the description there-of.
You, my love, are the fleur-de-lis.
The offspring of innocence
The embodiment of purity
Silk are your eyes
For they look on with such suppleness
The lustre of your soul is reflected through those windows
Fair is your heart
For it reverberates much passion
Much tenderness; much hope
It loves profound
With the suave movements of your heartbeat
Another tender petal falls
A touch softer than a summer's evening breeze
Warmer than early morning's first rays
More comforting than a new-born's first motherly embrace
A touch more hauntingly beautiful than nature's grace
Une petite fleur, merveilleuse et vraie
Fragrance of divinity
Constantly blooming; forever beguiling
You, my darling, are the fleur-de-lis.
empty beds and wrinkled sheets
are all i remember from that week
a pillow to support me
not much, only barely
and a blanket to keep me warm
with both arms outstretched
i cannot reach the edges
if i roll side to side
i'll never fall to unforgiving ground
i'll only ever be drifting over cotton sheets
the sun shines through linen curtains
casting shadows across a soft gentle face
i impulsively turn towards the light
which a smile tugging at the corner of my silent lips
i spend the day happy, laying in my empty bed
Saturday evening and it's getting late
You're on your own two feet and smiling
Wishing your friend goodbye as you walk them home
They shut the door and you realize you're alone.
The darkness consumes the sky above
And the chilly wind whispers in your ears
As you start to turn to face the fears
Of the long journey home, it's a night to love.
Walking home you see the trees
They wave back and forward as if saying hello
The night lights in the sky and the street ahead
Make you feel comfortable as you stride forward.
Across the traffic bridge, you gaze over the ledge
Many cars drive by, vanishing underneath you
Taking a seat, feet hanging from the edge
"Can't help but just enjoy the view."
[To the outside world]
I am trapped on an island far at sea,
There is no glimpse of life around me.
Alone, cold and desolate,
I was shipwrecked by ‘FATE’.
I have been here for many years,
And the time spent is starting to give me fears.
Fears I may never be able to leave,
Fears I am gradually starting to believe.
Each day I wait in anticipation of a rescue,
Yet each day my hopes are dashed anew.
All I see are the waters before me,
Seagulls flying above in silent mockery.
Flaunting their freedom in ways they please,
I yearn for such a [sweet] release.
To whoever may read this,
I am stuck in a place of ‘anti-bliss’.
I am exhausted in both mind and body,
I no longer care what lies ahead of me.
My skin has been deadened by the scorching sun,
An unfeeling being I have now become.
Violent winds have undone me,
I no longer see Life’s beauty.
Only a fragment of hope remains,
That my rescuers will not find my rotting remains.
To whoever may see,
Have in your in heart some sympathy.
I am trapped on a island on this deathly ocean,
Where loneliness is a slow killing potion.
Each day Nature drops a subtle clue,
That my underworld sojourn is long overdue.
This is my last-gasped petition, a last chance plea,
Whoever you are, PLEASE HELP ME!
Time is running out
Signed: Desolate islander…
take this to heart my dear valentine
'twas never meant to be foreverly mine
the last petal fell
your footprints left mine
a love story told but which I'll never tell
hugs in mugs have now grown cold
a cut was made along the grape vine
this love story that will never be told
it's taken my heart my dear valentine
wine glasses were drained to my dearest valentine
a sparkling champagne celebrated that time
sherry go round
whisk it away
now cham-pain drain these veins of mine
I could not read between the lines anyway
time soothed this heart now, dear valentine
memories have spoken
it's time to be fine
take this to heart in the meantime
a spirit once broken, but did not die
my bittersweet wine now petals of rosé
time's given back my heart, valentine.
He watched her red rosy lips move when she talks,
Beautiful words were coming out her mouth.
Like a silver tongue.
Falling for her in every word.
Her blue eyes were like oceans he can swim into.
The fool was in love with a woman,
who had a silver tongue.
Her blonde silky hair brought the sunshine to his eyes.
She broke him down and walked away.
And the man in love learned to never fall for a woman who had a silver tongue.
Words of a Silver tongue brought darkness to his eyes.
But now he knows that she lied.
And to never fall for her again.
somewhere in my mind
a sky is full of kites
sunflowers blossoming on a hillside
fields of grapes, of my salt mixed with your perfume
my eyes drift across a canvas of waves
on which your warm feet have flattened grapes
into a sea diluted of sadness
stretching far from left to right
and wisping clouds above.
the heart follows timidly behind
approaching cautiously the soft strokes and waves
seeing each kite as an arrow
shot into the air by Cupid's jealous lover
as heaven's golden eye creeps past the mountain,
dips into the ocean
leaves this sky
a sweet, light wine; leaves me tipsy-turvy
while one can't help but believe:
loveliness is a vine mapped out within each
arms can hold, arms can drown
...I await yours.