"jubilance" poems
*A vast blanket of darkness, the world at night
Bombarded by the explosion of light
Were you bedazzled by my kaleidoscopic luster?
You were silenced with awe
And your eyes manifest wonder
My splendor of lights were formed from the shadows
And in its depths I'll return
Sadness and hurt made indigo
Bliss and jubilance made yellow
So light me up, ignite me
be the flame to set me afire
colliding thoughts had lifted me up
This is my extravagant goodbye
As the last glint of light flickers
in the last seconds of my show
as it falls slowly to be one with void
i'd like to see one last smile aglow
you're the spark that triggered me to combust
i was once a firework show
now one with dust*
Jan 3, 2015
Jan 3, 2015 at 12:53 AM UTC
Why aren't you smiling, while the whole world is smiling?
In this lovely day why aren't you shining?
Obstacles on your way but even fowls are crossing.
Instead of smiling why are always cursing
the world and her natural ways of judgment.
Life is full of jubilance, why the resentment?
Understand that life is the most wonderful element,
Rich and nourishing, each day lived is a divine fulfilment.
Why aren't you smiling when you should be rising?
Why are you still going backwards, forward is where you should be heading,
You should be smiling even when everything seems to be falling,
Smile each day, life is awesome and worth living.
*"Carpe diem quam minimum credula postero"
Live today and worry not about tomorrow.*
Jun 5, 2015
Jun 5, 2015 at 9:26 PM UTC
A sapling restrained from its dirt prison
Wanting to sail across the vast seas
Yearning for liberation
Rain brew in the mighty sky
The little sapling endured valiantly
The sporadic growth of the sapling now on tie
Tempest devoured by the radiant sun
Absorbing nutrients from the sun’s jubilance
The days till maturity became none
The petals of the primrose began to blossom
A majestic scent pervaded the boundless air
The options veered from lean to awesome
Spain, Germany, Belgium, and France
Foreign mountains, towers, and customs
Now in sight from the blossom dance
Apr 14, 2013
Apr 14, 2013 at 7:28 AM UTC
Wednesdays and Fridays:
The only days I jump out of bed
Filled with
happiness.
Passion.
Patience.
Excitement.
I walk into the classroom,
Trade my sadness for a dose of jubilance.
I feel alive again.
A dozen 3 year olds swarm the room,
the melting ***
Labels such as: typical, Downs syndrome, autistic, deaf
Come together to morph into a magical classroom.
“The Tree House Room”.
Differences are not feared in the eyes of these little humans,
They are
embraced.
Accepted.
Loved.
These are the days I live for.
Dec 16, 2014
Dec 16, 2014 at 1:32 AM UTC
Come, my darling, let us dance
To the moon that beckons us
To dissolve our love in trance
Heedless of the hideous
Heat & hate of Sirius-
Shun his baneful brilliance!
Let us dance beneath the palm
Moving in the moonlight, frond
Wooing frond above the calm
Of the ocean diamond
Sparkling to the sky beyond
The enchantment of our psalm.
Let us dance, my mirror of
Perfect passion won to peace,
Let us dance, my treasure trove,
On the marble terraces
Carved in pallid embroeideries
For the vestal veil of Love.
Heaven awakes to encompass us,
Hell awakes its jubilance
In our hearts mysterious
Marriage of the azure expanse,
With the scarlet brilliance
Of the Moon with Sirius.
Velvet swatches our lissome limbs
Languid lapped by sky & sea
Soul through sense & spirit swims
Through the pregnant porphyry
Dome of lapiz-lazuli:-
Heart of silence, hush our hymns.
Come my darling; let us dance
Through the golden galaxies
Rhythmic swell of circumstance
Beaming passion’s argosies:
Ecstacy entwined with ease,
Terrene joy transcending trance!
Thou my scarlet concubine
Draining heart’s blood to the lees
To empurple those divine
Lips with living luxuries
Life importunate to appease
Drought insatiable of wine!
Tunis in the tremendous trance
Rests from day’s incestuous
Traffic with the radiance
Of her sire-& over us
Gleams the intoxicating glance
Of the Moon & Sirius.
Take the ardour of my impearled
Essence that my shoulders seek
To intensify the curled
Candour of the eyes oblique,
Eyes that see the seraphic sleek
Lust bewitch the wanton world.
Come, my love, my dove, & pour
From thy cup the serpent wine
Brimmed & breathless -secret store
Of my crimson concubine
Surfeit spirit in the shrine-
Devil -Goddess ****** *****
Afric sands ensorcel us,
Afric seas & skies entrance
Velvet, lewd & luminous
Night surveys our soul askance!
Come my love, & let us dance
To the Moon and Sirius!
2.9k
A tear rolls down a swollen cheek,
Eyes are blue where violence wreaked,
The sob of tortured life wracks body and mind,
As that blow slows time,
Red blood spots bare skin and canvas,
A world spinning in coloured blackness,
As mind drifts to a place of comfort,
The other raises fists triumphant,
The crowd hollers in jubilance,
Worry not for me just call that ambulance.
May 17, 2017
May 17, 2017 at 8:59 AM UTC
In the circular lily pond--
desolate, surrounded by lush growth of
tall, entangled ***** pine plants
spewing amorous scent
in to the humid tropical air
from musky flowers, golden yellow.
hunted by swarms of bees,
-- you step in.
Peeling off your clothes to the last bit,
with a jubilance freedom bestows
you spring down, delve deep
to take bathe, knowing, I the owl
that has an eye on you always
keep watching you from the other end
in a stunned surprise to see you ****
for the first time, after long last!
In a fix you are now about my presence
when celebrating the freedom
of a village belle, that comes rarely
on such occasions, away from all eyes that pry-
You swim a few laps, my water nymph
on your back you glide, setting the water aflame
now, you pretend to see me all of a sudden,
then, swim towards me as if your secret plan, did succeed,
I am caught in your net of love, but your ploy is different,
plead not to look at you as you swim naked,
a wily love cat, you are, that knows her alley well.
If only, I were a water lily,I'd pretend to be your waist band
made of the stem, supple soft; the petals would jealously conceal
the secrets of your lotus, while circling the slender waist tenderly.
Oct 11, 2014
Oct 11, 2014 at 10:29 AM UTC
Eyes having opened,
They were met by an infinite blue.
Deeply rich and sapphire-esque in tone,
The sea rushed into the mouth that was held agape
By both marvel and fear.
At first instinct was the will to resist,
But then came the strange comfort of allowing the passionate Blood that once boiled
Chill itself to a painfully distant frost.
It was ecstasy and torture coexisting within
A circular harmony of sensation.
This order of solace was short lived.
With a shimmer,
The once reserved and vibrant sea of blue transformed
Into an abyss of clarity.
The briny and familiar taste shifted in nature to something other. Something potent, something repulsive, something sinister.
At once,
The calm oasis turned into a scathing hell.
His inferno incarnate.
A body that at past times swam with jubilance
Now sank to the fiery depths,
Having already lost both the spirit and the ability to fight.
Crisped,
The corpse felt an enormous pain.
But the mind felt none for there was none to speak of.
Sep 13, 2018
Sep 13, 2018 at 8:25 AM 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
( Sonnet )
I once caught you naked by the sea,
No one noticed, such noble shyness,
Invited to worlds, aloof as sun breeze,
Of purple sands, heathered highness.
In novae of your eyes was shipwreck,
Forlorn beacon chiding the weary lost
Of new worlds lumbered on the decks,
Seabirds caroled up wing, heavens' loft.
Skin, fleshy of netted eel, salt and foam,
Was hide for a brigand, lubbers sessions,
Sheered by sheen, blinding sky of gloam,
Stars runged on their draped processions.
My seal, now fate, cloak within jubilance;
Coral sea wave, slips under moon dance.
Feb 4, 2017
Feb 4, 2017 at 2:21 PM UTC
Captivating radiance streams from the glowing reinforcement
Satisfying the anchoring of the bluest moon
Appealing to celestial spheres with such delightful notions
Reflecting off the glass of a bottomless lagoon
Swirling kisses of lighted jubilance dance upon the waves
Sweetly admiring the gratifying view
Tasting all the glints of teardrops falling from his face
Transparent as the crystal fallen dew
Angelic faces with wings of gossamer appear upon the glow
Staring up wistfully at the bluest moon
Wondering if he cried because the sun had left his side
When she disappeared behind a sandy dune
An enthralling music filled the air from the wings of gossamer
Singing truth to the tears of the bluest moon
Words of heavenly delight filled his aching soul that night
Reassurance he found in their tune
The captivating radiance still streams from the glowing
Yet the bluest moon cries there no more
See the bluest hue disappear with all the glints of tears
As he watches for his sun from the shore
Aug 25, 2010
Aug 25, 2010 at 4:57 PM UTC
The strength bestowed upon us can turn into a heavy burden,
One which our scrawny shoulders sometimes can't carry,
Or our tired backs from entering the journey of womanhood,
Or even our bruised and battered souls that continue to brave on along this path of emotional, mental and even physical scaring we live to bear.
Maybe being a woman means I'm supposed to be inferior to my other half,
Or bowing to him as if he had turned into a humanly form of a deity that I am supposed to worship.
Listen!
I am a person,
I am that face society either frowns or smiles upon,
I break,
I soldier on,
I cry,
I laugh...
and boy, is it quite an interesting journey of self-realisation.
But at the end of the day,
I want to raise my voice to the sound of jubilance,
Not to news of someone getting *****
a girl not going to school because she is not 'smart enough';
a cry from the brutality at the hands of another;
another statistic telling us the measure of a woman, when compared to a man;
another dream dying because your belief in yourself and the capabilities you possess has become a distortion of what everyone believes to be 'right/wrong'
You'll be given varying descriptions,
And that's okay...
...because
YOU ARE HUMAN!
Mar 8, 2016
Mar 8, 2016 at 8:52 AM UTC
A senseless work of art
that is what I am
a being without heart
to you I'm not a man
I miss the smell of ecstasy
desire burns my soul
my tears will acid be
ending me in whole
I miss the taste of passion
saline on my tongue
now its only ashen
like a near-dead smoker's lung
I miss the sight of jubilance
a thing for sorrowed eyes
your beauty was the evidence
reason for my demise
I miss the sound of springtime
dancing on your voice
now I see a pantomime
in which joy is not a choice
I miss the softest caress
as our lips would lightly brush
now my minds a mess
my body on a rush
I miss your vibrant groaning
as I penetrate your mind
and the sound of your moaning
when we explore the find
I miss your pulsing heart rate
felt through your tightening skin
and how I debate
our affection is a sin
but then you said you loved me
and that you were here to stay
but ripped my heart in pieces
as I watched you walk away
so now I live a empty life
always missing you
wondering if, through your strife
You might be missing me too
A senseless work of art
that is what I am
a being without heart
to you I'm not a man
Oct 10, 2013
Oct 10, 2013 at 2:53 PM UTC
A clay *** holds your happiness.
It's halfway tall,
reaching up to your thigh,
Narrow, blown up in the middle, narrow.
Simple lid with a spherical dot for fingers to grasp,
and a black drawn line
that curls from base to lip,
and over.
Insides encumbered by sweet darkness,
shaded glory,
because outside,
gleaming.
Spiraled gold that must have dribbled off the sun's ice cream cone
leaked through the bottom where the end had broken
and flavor escaped
to land on your mirthful urn.
Blue so clear,
the sky surely lost a piece of itself
as a crack appeared
and a fragment cascaded downward
to shatter along your pleasant chalice.
And in between,
are lines of green
that could have only originated
on pinewood trees
in a forest so dark
that monsters beware.
Bordering a little town
where children played
and only truth was called,
never dare.
Because there is red on your delighted decanter.
Spattered droplets
of coagulated sparks.
Jaded needles saturated,
with pine fresh essence
emanating from your zesty flagon.
And a single spot,
Barren.
Bereft of treasure.
Parted from cerulean.
Robbed of Viridian.
And severed in the roots of a blushing Amaryllis.
Occupying there,
a white blemish,
a shape of infinite corners
immaculately defined
and so small,
you will never find it on the canister
that harbors your smile.
Feb 24, 2013
Feb 24, 2013 at 11:33 PM UTC
( Sonnet )
I once caught you naked by the sea,
No one noticed, such noble shyness,
Invited to worlds, aloof as sun breeze,
Of purple sands, heathered highness.
In novae of your eyes was shipwreck,
Forlorn beacon chiding the weary lost
Of new worlds lumbered on the decks,
Seabirds caroled up wing, heavens' loft.
Skin, fleshy of netted eel, salt and foam,
Was hide for a brigand, lubbers sessions,
Sheered by sheen, blinding sky of gloam,
Stars runged on their draped processions.
My seal, now fate, cloak within jubilance;
Coral sea wave, slips under moon dance.
Apr 25, 2015
Apr 25, 2015 at 3:01 PM UTC
One by one, the leaves of the tree gently fall to the damp ground
I don't care
The mynas sing their varied tunes of jubilance and excitement
I don't care
The sound of dogs barking in the distant envelopes the atmosphere
I don't care
The sky is grey with rain clouds, almost melancholy
as the sun tries to push through its rays
I don't care
The gurgling sound of the neighbor's water fountain marks the present
I don't care
Now, the children are running in the park, stealing time to play before the rain drops
I don't care
Swishing, chirping, woofing, whooing, splish-splashing, screaming
.............
This poem is not finished
I don't care
Aug 11, 2013
Aug 11, 2013 at 1:21 AM UTC
They took them…
With a *** shovel and beards engulfed with disguise,
By fire, by force and harm
They heartlessly took them…
Loading with a military van from the snare, the school
Sabotaging their education and jubilance
At the brink of our oculus, like a hot blade through margarine,
Like the evanescence of dew upon new dawn,
They were gone…
We cajole to Haram Islamic militants,
Not the slavery we signed up for,
Yet this is our story, but not our destiny.
It is profane and sacrilegious to talk slavery upon our realms.
Our ancestral dormancy and Jesus crucifixion outlines our history.
We were untrammeled...but today,
Our existence is dreary and clouded by mystery
We count minutes turning into tormented hours,
In lament of our own flesh and blood
They took them..
with needles and stylus they pinched poked and taunted us,
Like a bunch of sponges filled with voids,
Our hearts are painfully porous,
Dope them with defects,
Bring back our girls…
Haram saboteurs came in with a saber,
They took them…
How less of a man to not respect the words of the late Tata Madiba,
When he said"Never, never and never again shall it be that this beautiful land
Will again experience the oppression of one by another".
There will be war upon the element of Haram when Jesus intervene..
Bring back our girls..
(Nigreian acsent)
Chinekeee, man of Haram, bring back our girls_oo
I beg, why go they take?
Eeeh, god will go get you one day,
With our teary Nigerian eyes, will we ever see?
Adedagbo, our crown of joy ?
Aduke, our beloved ?
Afolayan Walking in majesty...
Agbogu, God settles dispute…
Bring back our girls.
Aug 25, 2014
Aug 25, 2014 at 1:28 AM UTC
At first,
Love was captivating.
a beckoning temptress
with lips whispering compliments
and desires and promises.
And then,
Love was unbridled.
a stallion galloping across terrain
the wind in his mane
vivacious and carefree.
At times,
Love was insecure.
spilling tears and confessions
fearing scorn or withdrawal
twisting with pain.
Of course,
Love was confident.
beaming with adoration:
ostentatious jubilance or
a quiet security.
Strangely,
Love was alone.
ripening and explorative
discovering the importance of
Self before other.
Perhaps there’s no one True set definition
and those who try
to grasp for dictionary restrictions
ultimately fail.
May 24, 2013
May 24, 2013 at 5:18 AM UTC
All was peaceful in the young realm
Just and Un-just had finished erecting their epic statues
The tree of Taste had begun to bear fruit in the royal courtyard
And youthful bliss ruled over the realm,
With jewels of jubilance, adorning its crown
But from the ghetto’s rose passion and puberty
Together conspiring to rouse the masses, their words infecting,
Each sector of emotion and thought
Eventually swarming the grand palace with its paltry guards
The twin rebels lead a crazed crowd that crashed through gates
And toppled the two statues, burned the tree of taste
Finally poor, pitiful, youthful bliss was dragged from their throne
The crown jewels of jubilance replaced by emeralds of angst
And now Puberty and Passion ruled
Under new banners of maturity
Jun 12, 2018
Jun 12, 2018 at 7:35 PM UTC
I hear the song
of this street
a happier song
than the blues of Denver
destitution with gaiety
more hope and love,
worn souls and bodies
hoping for the
loose change that
usually ends up lost
between couch cushions
in exchange
for a simple show
instead of begging
for sympathy
carefully arranged
planter boxes
to match the seasons
and jubilance of
passers by juxtaposed
with the whitening beard
of a ***** old man
hustling for a buck
for **** or food or *****
you will never know
except for the few
honest cardboard signs
the two a.m. ***
happy and ******
eagerly striking a
conversation with
lone students
out for a simple walk
looking only for
someone to talk to
because no one
is a desert island,
we need imports
and exports of
thoughts, ideas,
and emotions
to keep the small
piece of land bearable
the man in a mask
with no skin showing
playing congas
on a hot Colorado day
hoping for a
pocket full of change,
face hidden; like
his beaten past
he is humble—
anonymously playing
for a dollar
or few without
shock or pizzazz
adults buying a drink
while a block down
children buy an
ice cream cone
both a vice
modern jazz, which flows
over the red bricked street
guitars, bongos, violins,
Home Depot bucket drums
melding together into
one, spontaneous song
improvised by the ebb
and flow of tourists
and natives with
changing verses of
a woman’s opinion
strongly voiced to a survey
while her husband
keeps the beat with his foot
—never allowed to sing
the chorus of children
shrieking and crying
in the dissonance of youth
reflected in early couples
sing infatuations
short and fleet, struggling
to keep a foot hold, but
fading like pop songs…
the experienced couples
creating movements of
pain, joy, and maturity,
dynamic blues riffs
full of emotion only
those who have felt
could understand
Feb 28, 2013
Feb 28, 2013 at 10:15 AM UTC
of mosaic sea gem trinkets shimmering in the
colors of coral and gypsy travels
she always found herself on the ocean's shore
between the jubilance of the tide
and the constant of the sand
drinking in the sun's rays as they
sliced through the salt winds
she kept those beams, tucked them away
to give to others with every coming laugh
dreaming in paintbrush strokes and vivid imagination
don't you ever lose that essence of who you are
never stop asking the toughest questions
never stop saying what everyone else is too afraid to voice
Mar 25, 2014
Mar 25, 2014 at 6:24 PM UTC
Dear something to remember
Dear nothing that I knew
Was it clearly a reason to give me a clue
I’ve reworked the works of past lives
Calculated numbers to exist with mine
To reminisce on such a sweet accomplishment
Known as greed to another man’s treasure
Where thoughts could not coexist
But exist if not measured
Where jubilance is false and apt to do
Walls concaved with no place to move
Well if it’s so weird to think regardless of nothing
Then shall I cope with what’s to come?
Or have walls never been where they are or were
To a place that was never done
Dec 21, 2013
Dec 21, 2013 at 1:42 AM UTC
nescient of origins,
roaring narrow views--
a wend of finite specieshood
collides around a pond-shore
dreamt in colors algae soft.
car sized turtles sink
glow into the liquid cool
while stegosauri billow bottom silt,
their diamond spine-points
tacking to my gaze an oil depth.
time slows in,
viscous under water sun
silent evening stomp.
sipping breath above,
bone-dry families
coo their brittle nests
while scaly giants
skinny dip.
ripples red and gold
darken black as tar
as yawning maws,
eyedrop lashes
squeezed,
feel the draw of kismet
gravely wink in jetsam
at their young,
who, tugging tail-end games
despite a brooding storm
skitter jubilance.
i dive in stasis
nudely arched
above my shadow
as other apex mouths
arrayed in awe
foresee
Oct 4, 2015
Oct 4, 2015 at 5:22 PM UTC
While in the shower
I watched the water bead on my skin,
forming puddles in the creases of my
hands and I think about existence
and what it means to be human
To express how drifting into
the ocean feels like a kaleidoscope and
day and night don’t mean anything
Why we don’t kiss
strangers more often, the kind where their tongues
slip past our lips and heads and hearts burst with
feelings of real love, genuine and true
There are times when I wish the world would end
and during our last seconds, everyone would become
transparent and sincere, the firing of a single neuron
would stretch a mile till the tension
snaps, traversing synapses,
neurotransmitters, endorphins, and
loving thy neighbor
While in the shower
I see tangents in liquid universes
that form tidal waves in the canyons
of my brain and I think about you
To express how falling in
love with you feels like a bomb cloud
and you and I are one in the same
Why we kiss
each other so often, the kind where my heart
slips past your ribcage and fear and anger collapse
under our love, fruitful and wild
There are times when I wish the world would never end
and during our lifetime, we would be
euphoric and free, the corner of your eye
could tell a thousand stories of
our first kiss, jubilance,
and loving you
Apr 8, 2014
Apr 8, 2014 at 9:59 AM UTC
I see through those eyes
Minds are full but hearts be hollow,
Along with smiles
Through a jubilance that they follow,
An elation brief a reality confound,
Come arise oh dormant minds,
Do not be appealed – do not be bound,
This world will consume you
Until you leave all behind.
Jun 15, 2011
Jun 15, 2011 at 9:56 PM UTC