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dmperez Sep 25
shimmer of the moon-rode rhythm
oceans flow-dance glow-view
crash
Amanda Hawk Jun 20
Memories
Shimmering and twinkling
Stars, constellations
I stretch along the night sky
So i can remember
Everything about you
It has been seven years
And I still miss
Your smile
The Harvest of Roses
by Michael R. Burch

for Harvey Stanbrough

I have not come for the harvest of roses—
the poets' mad visions,
their railing at rhyme ...
for I have discerned what their writing discloses:
weak words wanting meaning,
beat torsioning time.

Nor have I come for the reaping of gossamer—
images weak,
too forced not to fail;
gathered by poets who worship their luster,
they shimmer, impendent,
resplendently pale.

This poem was originally published by The Raintown Review when Harvey Stanbrough was the editor, then later by Mindful of Poetry. I wrote the poem out of dissatisfaction with the strange idea that poetry should consist entirely or primarily of concrete images. Would the “experts” who espouse this bizarre idea junk the great soliloquies of Shakespeare and Milton and the direct statement poems of A. E. Housman? It also bears noting that the twin titans of English modernism, Ezra Pound and T. S. Eliot, did an awful lot of “telling” rather than always “showing.” Keywords/Tags: Harvest, roses, images, imagery, imagism, meter, time, beat, rhyme, shimmer, gloss, perfume, reap, reaping, gossamer
Irem Sep 2019
The blonde shimmer of your hair gets lost
In the lights of city and it begins to transform
Into your ambition that keeps you alive
While the shine and glory of youth that you have in your face
Is mixing with loud sirens of the city

Just a little bit , just a little bit shine that I’m searching for
A green glimmer would keep me alive
Trying to distract myself  from the distance that we put between us
A shine of happiness would keep my heart alive

So busy with our lives that we don’t even realize
How the city reacts with our hearts
When we feel a heartache we just look at the city lights
Like lights could take the pain away

Perfectly cut, walls of glasses
Another day is beginning
The sun is rising again.
Inspired by Junko Ohashi’s Crystal City.
purges Jun 2019
i stole the man in the moon
and now i keep him in my room

i hop into my portable radio at night
and i switch the channels
when I get a fright

outside the schools of silver coin fish,
outside, the turtle, who
for a shell, stole a gold dish

yes, you may touch me
but that doesn't make me real

this wavering water glass
is between us
in panes i cannot feel

a glint of gold smoke,
flash of a crystal cigarette

shimmered right out of the spot she stood in,
with one sparkling pirouette
Vexren4000 Nov 2018
Sparkling seas stretching far.
Beyond where the eye can see,
Sparkling unto a new horizon,
Shimmering unto dreams of mean lost to the seas.
A frontier once unexplored,
Now has lost its magical glow,
Due to man and his machinations.

©BAS
LeaK Sep 2018
Stellar mistreatment, meltdown; went down
Spectrum gushing, waving ocean
Exploring deplorable nether regions galore
Roots uprising, doubling be-headings

It's profound!
On the grounds of treason
The sound of suffering
The soul of season

Shimmer and I, be one
Till it gets to my guts
Blurting, hurting needs the new one
Replicating, replacing me dust to sun

Now, whole life turned into pun
Perfect one knows no one
As I lay as a stardust, have none
Cosmic wind blew and now begone
K Balachandran Jun 2018
sky wears a shimmer,
as black clouds stop dance for now;
run up for cloudburst!
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