"coruscating" poems
The picturesque glow from the full moon enkindles youthful swooning and yearning; orotund voices rising above prattle conversation yield celestial affirmations in conjunction with analogous, supernal relations
Full acceptance of the shimmering stars sacrosanct messages coruscating through the sky - fulsome oracular expressions instilling mesmerizing past-life recollections.
Dec 6, 2014
Dec 6, 2014 at 10:56 AM UTC
Stepping into the pristine, gentle atmosphere; truth hanging from the intricate crystal chandelier full of endless glow and luster - mischievously placed structure conspicuously elevating wonder
Full of flashing, coruscating shimmer enthusiastically engaging the convivial space; evoking a spontaneous internal unfolding mirroring the perpetual suffering connected to the chosen impeding of spirit’s copious interweaving.
Dec 1, 2014
Dec 1, 2014 at 11:23 AM UTC
Some only seest her flesh
And her bones;
I seest God's handprint
That brushstroked
Her soul.
Some only heed her outer
Reflection;
I seest a masterpiece
In paradisal direction.
Some only observe her comings
And going's;
Not perceiving
Her tears, beyond year's;
Hath been like white water's flowing.
Some only descry
Her Filipina eyne;
Whilst under her roof
She's lonesome, aloof;
Pain is her daily bread,
As is her heart's
Screaming proof.
Some only espy, the girl
They seek to know; not
Knowing nothing of who
She really is, an Angel from
God's throne.
Though this Queen doesn't seest
What I seest, she is blinded by
Worldly lies; demon's art her
Enemies, because she's God's
coruscating light.
If only she could take a step
Out of her body and her mind;
She'd be free, to perceive
The treasure she is
As the creator made
Her after his
Kind.
If only she could
Seest, the elegance
Inside her soul;
She would
Knowest
She was
Created to be
God's light, lamp;
God's perfect mold.
©Brandon Nagley
©Lonesome poets poetry
©Earl Jane Sardua nagley ( agapi mou) dedicated
Jul 28, 2016
Jul 28, 2016 at 8:31 PM UTC
Maiden, maiden, maiden, a depilidate mobious minaret –
Holical, Eris begs an atlatl defection, the
Genuis-from-Mars technique – an erathicus lecanopteris.
Suffretex, past-perfection in pastel gloxinia,
Glowingly acidic and shiftingly glossidic, it’s cosmaltry mariala;
Ungual outmoded, holonym singing Aquilar rapax as demiurge.
Demos and Phobos weep, coruscating terrathos, killing riva.
Swell quickly, optic ophidia, lest the ira florena rise –
Rise, maiden, rise optic ophidia, ignore Irredelphine!
Strut the hematacolpa and pace-willow, but fail flow:
Deciduous telechir beckons, demanding autobogotic-hajra.
Piss-venom and picea hovea, eche verri naught echo –
Beta-decay and COBOL error, fandango with teeth
And sing praise for Eucladanic soignè solaris
Sprint quick, maiden-solidago gesparisè, to Misra pourum!
Majerns and hapax, death-knell aloud and encelia,
Enfloranè, haste! Enatic haste tichodrome, flee, anise!
Apios, harken: tryst-sans-thermobic sweeping of thresher-thrown,
Little-low else yet achroma, de-jubilance:
Fall fairly, ayah! So to be so, blanking systemic,
A thousand steps for one death.
Jul 4, 2010
Jul 4, 2010 at 12:25 PM UTC
This feast-day of the sun, his altar there
In the broad west has blazed for vesper-song;
And I have loitered in the vale too long
And gaze now a belated worshipper.
Yet may I not forget that I was ‘ware,
So journeying, of his face at intervals
Transfigured where the fringed horizon falls,—
A fiery bush with coruscating hair.
And now that I have climbed and won this height,
I must tread downward through the sloping shade
And travel the bewildered tracks till night.
Yet for this hour I still may here be stayed
And see the gold air and the silver fade
And the last bird fly into the last light.
2k
******* at tickling the ivories,
at inducing the jet buttons
to chortle, say, in a concerto ;
but I do strum and flirt
with those amazing royal,
88 unrepentant loyal
keys for Jupiter and Saturn,
for Mars and Neptune,
making a blank bland tune
for extraterrestrial beings for fun.
On the cosmic moors
the moon's whirling feet
cease for my discordance.
What a slurred entrance
by F in D major!
Only a novice--an amateur.
I'm no magnificent pianist,
O majestic Mercury.
Summon the stars the search
to lead for a supreme virtuoso,
one of no incongruent ingenuity
like this dilettante--a pseudo
music polymath, counsels Thebe.
A Mozart, Beethoven, or Bach?
Any of the greats scored above, as well
as geniuses like David and Handel.
Impressario fly! Flee thou away
and go get a classic maven.
Otherwise sleep there forever at Erebus,
never dream of waking up in Eden.
Circuitous world stops: strings break off
at the Earth's axis--
the Sun's panels pause
and darkness' movement begins
its own obscure notes to improvise:
apace demented melody
is released,-- bathos of symphony:
tinny wine of concord
settles on the lees of discord.
Asteroids hooting some ***** calls
when into the grand chrysolite chamber--
in her tailor-made blistering gown--
strolls in the coruscating Venus
in the sturdy arm of jaundiced Uranus,
garbed in his glistening stomacher.
Like a ball, all eyes are bouncing
hither and thither, up and down,
googling and ogling,
once more at them leering,
gaping at the irreplaceable paintings of
da Vinci, Picasso, and Van Gogh
cavorting upon the weightless walls
to the romantic performance of Strauss
in the palace orchestral of Bacchus.
May 1, 2014
May 1, 2014 at 8:17 AM UTC
It's cranberry sauce
That’s it, I’ve done it
My brain is mush
Heartbeat through a megaphone
I’m pulling on my pant legs
Tightening my veins around my bones
& I think the thermometer in my brain needs reprogrammed
I. Now I’m a cozy embryo
With cotton in my marrow
Last of my breed so the bad men can’t see me
I’m sitting here in my own bullet train
Flying through metro lights at night
With coruscating sodium vapor
Vibrating in my peripheries
My appendages do not exist
II. We are the carbon monoxide leak
We are the cold coaxing hypothermia
Still trying to define the agony of existence
& Beauty of meaning through definition
III. “If you don’t get old, you die”
Shut up & pay your taxes old man
I can stay young for as long as I want
I am healthy
I am eternal
I’ve got all the cotton in the world
IV. I wonder if all sentient life deals
With the same paranoia as humans do
It’s the reason we never shut up
& hold love for vague idols
V. I like smiles
& I like sadness
VI. What does loneliness see when it chases its
Shadow?
You’ve got a mouse in your hand that cannot know that you are
Sentient.
You are a wooden giant from outer space that burned upon
Entry.
Where does apathy sleep when it has had too much to
Eat?
Why can’t you see your house from three million miles
Away?
If you need help breathing then you deserve to die in
Appalachia.
If I lie here long enough under enough blankets, then
I'm not real
Is it possible to save up enough money to avoid humans
Altogether?
Just like that, the spiral ceases
We were packed
Like sardines
Wrapped in butcher paper
Blind night vision
Then deer in headlights
Kissing the pavement
Mutually requited
Uninterest
Jan 25, 2013
Jan 25, 2013 at 12:41 PM UTC
as the city is bathed
in the resplendent glow
of moonlight
and the wind dances
through the trees
emitting the celestial
sound of the night
she is wide awake
her mind adrift
her eyes as coruscating
as starlight
Jan 5, 2015
Jan 5, 2015 at 3:11 PM UTC
roaring fiery flames
fill the empty void
inviting colors of ambers and golds ablaze
the room animates
different atmospheres of coziness
sitting back in retrospection
flickering fire entertains
with each crackling octave
creating peacefulness and calm.
whilst the flames aglow
playing Chopin
sipping cognac
burning scented candle of pine and rosemary
watching the felines and canine
congregating together harmoniously
mesmerized by flames
coruscating shadows on the walls
flames succumb catatonically
embers retire for the night.~~lorilynn
copyright*lorilynn 2010
Nov 30, 2010
Nov 30, 2010 at 6:23 AM UTC
She smiles
Like the sun kissed flowers
Staring up at the sky
On a field of never-ending blossoms in the summer’s light
But don’t be fooled
There’s a tempest brewing
The cumulonimbus clouds murk over her inner world
So deep into her immaculate soul it’s pursuing
She loves
Like the moon’s devotion
To the vault of heaven
On a glorious gloom
But don’t be fooled
Her darkness is the asphalt
On the terra firma
When the vale is most coruscating
She exposes
Her finest face
Like an overawed beau on the first night
Of **********
But don’t be fooled
Her behemoth lies slightly waken
In the depths of her muddled consciousness
Like a war solider awaiting command
She is two sides
Of the same coin
Tossing for heads or tails
Don’t be fooled
sa
13.09.18
Sep 13, 2018
Sep 13, 2018 at 10:14 AM UTC
If e’er the sky could glisten like your eyes,
The blue of dawn before the radiant day,
When day’s begun though sun is yet to rise
All stars are lost; the color of night stays.
Or winter’s early frost which dusts the land
could in that petty hour before the light
Be taken up in some ephemeral hand
And cast across the morning’s cobalt height,
The beauty of your soul would mirrored be
Across the coruscating firmament.
To bid the night to stay, the sun to flee
The time before the dawn made permanent
And in the night where peace can touch the soul,
Would be your gaze to ever make me whole.
Oct 31, 2021
Oct 31, 2021 at 11:51 PM UTC
Dark to dawn, dawn to light, piercing rays combat the night
Dipping moon drawing nigh, floating, trancing, tracing by
Yawning morning beckons still, willing sun against night’s chill
Clash of forces, voice of wills, call to victory ever still
Shades the night, lumens the day - tendrils and spirals to strip away
Entwined in struggle, surging forth, seeking the coruscating flow
Darkness snared, one final blow - finally ending the blight of night
Out of the darkness and into the light, conflict restored - enjoin the fight
Dawn to dusk which can we trust, both sides are found in all of us
Oct 5, 2013
Oct 5, 2013 at 11:55 AM UTC
He opened his eyes in a night sky,
Waxed black and fed by dews darkness,
Ebon and incarnadine mists consumed the air,
One hundred ravens in coracinet played
Soft music gliding her pale feet,
Quivering a flutter she swayed dreaming,
Before his black oak door,
Long his finger enchanted the path,
Fluttering onward in rapture,
The bell rings and rings,
Come dance, dance with thee,
Enchanted ye be
Her naked withering pallid body,
Of silk and chiffon he enfolded,
Her lips tasting amber and figs ripening,
Coruscating maidens swirled an epitome of dance
Not until she was dark grown repentance,
Renouncing all others,
Only then he shall devour upon her,
A bargain be struck,
Swept away riven by her dreaming plea,
My lady crowned dance with thee,
Beholdeth spelled she be troth,
And the Raven King hungered upon her lips
Forever radiant enchanted black,
── Unto the dance of night, his eternally bound
© Arnay Rumens 2015
Aug 17, 2015
Aug 17, 2015 at 11:41 PM UTC
I will wander
into wilderness
to find myself.
I will leave behind
my accoutrements,
memories of medals,
of past applause
and accolades,
accomplishments that
warranted degrees
and diplomas
portending future
successes. I like
who I am, who
I have become. No,
I love myself, and that
is my greatest achievement,
the acme most men
are blind to as they
mistake wealth for worth.
Most would say
I will be lonely,
but they are wrong,
because I will always be
with my best friend ever,
my real self. And I will
share my joy with
squirrels and rabbits
and deer, with bushes
and broken branches
and brush, with rills
and rivulets and rivers,
with rising and setting
suns and countless
stars coruscating in
night's sky. I will say
prayers to piles of pine
and sycamore limbs
that once were live,
but now make monuments
I worship. I am at one
with all I prize. My eyes,
even when they are closed,
see their beauty. I know
I will be blessed forever.
I lie on my bed, Earth,
and wait to join all
in solitude and grace.
TOD HOWARD HAWKS
Jul 13, 2021
Jul 13, 2021 at 2:31 AM UTC
I.
I want to walk out
into the ocean’s gentle swells,
and feel God’s palm
cupped around me.
II.
I want to step,
over the smooth, fluted stones,
and the whorled shells
of bright abalone,
to sink down
onto sundrenched
sea-ground
and close my eyes
to see my blood-red sun-lit lids
flicker and flash, as
shuddering net-designs
dance, threaded and lacy;
as they curl,
tangling across me.
I want to slide my fingers
through the slithering white sand--
the grains carved into
ivory ripples by the
currents’ deft hands.
III.
oh, I want to lie
and close my eyes
and feel the soft lurch of each wave
jerking overhead, its
strong tug like a kite,
watch the shining fish
scything past above,
and let each dancing point of light
reflected
from their scales
scar my pale face.
IV.
Oh, there is a howling, starving dog
that circles on the shore,
alone.
he’s keened his frantic misery to the
deadpan moon
for so so long
that no one listens anymore--
they gave it up long ago
and just sprawl, licking the dunes;
they lie and swear the grit quenches their
aching thirst
until they choke on their sand-covered tongues
and die.
V.
You see,
I want to see the moon rise,
quivering through
deep-water blackness;
listen to the dolphins’
ghostly shrieks and clacks,
and the whales’ deep, grieved noises.
I want to forget
the sound of human voices.
I long to close my eyes,
sink,
and never rise.
VI.
bright, irregular globes
flutter from my mouth
quick,
coruscating orbs
of prayer,
they shudder and
dart upwards
VII.
saltwater, salt tears,
ask Him if He hears
you gasping.
Apr 25, 2013
Apr 25, 2013 at 10:42 PM UTC
*My locum outer self is identified as a conferer,
A deep **** stirrer; I frod miserably when trouble occurs
Out in the open I am hidden from sight of Earthly cures
Sparsely telluric on my own
Adroitly celestial in my dome
Scape goat from head to toe;
I'd drown in and out too many populating
Coruscating as you'd spy
Balky the opposite: Illuminating inside
My barbaric inner self un identified as unseen;
Real keen are my advances
I'm a tone deft prancing like I can carry tune
An elitist with the perfect groove
That's what you;d say if given impression hand first
Of course, I'd finish the enitire plate without the quench for thirst
And I'm hard to capture by pithy eyes too
And I'm hard to real inside outside
And neither never am I ever; on cue*
Nov 28, 2010
Nov 28, 2010 at 2:37 PM UTC
Don’t confuse the hypnotic
hum of highway traffic
with the anesthetic lull
of your dreams deflating.
Don’t confuse the murmuration
of small black flies above the bowl
of rotting fruit with the devastation
you feel in the hard pit of your soul.
Don’t confuse the blinding eyes
of white vapor streetlights
with the coruscating promise
of an unmolested path home.
Don’t confuse the empty auto lot
at the edge of town with an orchard:
tonight the gravel of crushed bones
blossoms in a shower of moonlight,
the interminable hush of a hard rain.
Feb 3, 2017
Feb 3, 2017 at 5:02 PM UTC
No longer can I see the sunrise
or enjoy the sunset
A blinding iridescent glow
coruscating in my eyes is all I get
Nothing tastes the way it did before
and music doesn't evoke happiness
I don't feel like living anymore;
life and it's tasteless tackiness
Apr 13, 2016
Apr 13, 2016 at 1:00 PM UTC
on lonely winter nights
i find myself in the windowsill
gazing at coruscating stars and forgotten wishes
i grin at the moon
he smiles back
i close my eyes and conjure an image of the man on the moon
does he exist beyond childhood fairytale?
an impish smirk plays on his boyish face
as he reaches for me
he is the nocturnal prince, an imperial Peter Pan
stealing the prudence of stargazers
in the very hours of creativity
he is a collector of romances
seizing the hearts of sleeping beauties
as they fabricate stories of epic proportions
soon erased in waking moments
he is the fantasy of every idealist
the one who enchants her dreams
and inspires her ingenuity
Jan 7, 2016
Jan 7, 2016 at 6:11 PM UTC
Pleiades seven maidens sigh,
The sweeping, coruscating gown of stars,
In stillness-rapt, the cosmos in collective gasp,
At Atlas, his amalgamated bulk of last breath.
*********
We breathe in the gown of ending,
The snake tongues of our synapses
Flicking out the decomposed praeludium
For the saprobic stars to feed off the detritus of night.
Aug 24, 2019
Aug 24, 2019 at 10:45 PM UTC
sighing winds
coruscating over
naked selves
our raw i's
can't bear
the lightness of the
weight
it's gossamer truth
the softest cut
Apr 12, 2010
Apr 12, 2010 at 1:23 AM UTC
The trick is
to break the fall,
prepare soft landings
roll forward with
some standing joke,
calling-in the softball laughter
drawing on that coruscating
excellence of company
the fool congeniality
we coaxed in all conditions
We'll repeat this to ourselves
as we go about our
business....
Time will take the evidence,
possessions from the locker
but nothing is forgotten
as you're always
with The Boys..
Jul 14, 2023
Jul 14, 2023 at 7:27 PM UTC