"luminaire" poems - Hello Poetry

I'm writing this poem to be ignored like many of you I enjoy being a poet of keen irrelevance a literary luminaire of solitude a lost writing ghost a megalomaniac haunting himself a waiting oracle waiting for the occult muse door mouse to tap dance whispering night babble or having a cooked chicken fly into my mouth while i take searing snapshots of erratic images puzzling them into words from boundless burdens of heaping intestinal bluesy aftermaths exodus of conscience bruising my self like a ********* in heat on out of control run-on rants and blood razor drenched mysticism while real men drive earth movers drink bruskies and kick *** hustling time share Chinese handcuff contracts and up sell social justice platitudes fit for pie in the sky levitating hysteria lives shatter like red ice in endless cacophonies of skull clobbering effacement I'm writing this poem to be ignored and no one lets me down

0

Mar 20, 2019

Mar 20, 2019 at 3:32 PM UTC

zebrablack

Ignored

I'm writing this poem to be ignored like many of you I enjoy being a poet of keen irrelevance a literary luminaire of solitude a lost writing ghost a megalomaniac haunting himself a waiting oracle waiting for the occult muse door mouse to tap dance whispering night babble or having a cooked chicken fly into my mouth while i take searing snapshots of erratic images puzzling them into words from boundless burdens of heaping intestinal bluesy aftermaths exodus of conscience bruising my self like a ********* in heat on out of control run-on rants and blood razor drenched mysticism while real men drive earth movers drink bruskies and kick *** hustling time share Chinese handcuff contracts and up sell social justice platitudes fit for pie in the sky levitating hysteria lives shatter like red ice in endless cacophonies of skull clobbering effacement I'm writing this poem to be ignored and no one lets me down

31

DEAR PENPAL PEOPLE, the faint of the heart is the vision of blood on a love's dart:-/ mine to love like a broken bottle of wine trickling from above mine to lose the death of leaves with an odor to choose nerve visions times of sadness like books left unread and ghosts of madness the radio silences the alone the heart of blood grew a heart of bone speaks in gazes like a reach of hands before a car crash embraces stares in orange roses the lost up space the past dream exposes all too well prefer rivers not seas like when the window winds shuffled with car keys green grass shades and shields the depressing autumn can be the golorious of all fields bestest trees of lights in luminaire like the colors of stolen Augusts and the Jupiter before the shot of a wounded summer the listen of violens and the heard bird hummer now empty lines on empty pages like a no remember of the highlights of the faces with the drawn pencil a smoking scent evoked expressions painted in coffee and lost letters in the cold -------ravenfeels

0

Aug 11, 2021

Aug 11, 2021 at 7:27 PM UTC

raven-feels

Autumn August

DEAR PENPAL PEOPLE, the faint of the heart is the vision of blood on a love's dart:-/ mine to love like a broken bottle of wine trickling from above mine to lose the death of leaves with an odor to choose nerve visions times of sadness like books left unread and ghosts of madness the radio silences the alone the heart of blood grew a heart of bone speaks in gazes like a reach of hands before a car crash embraces stares in orange roses the lost up space the past dream exposes all too well prefer rivers not seas like when the window winds shuffled with car keys green grass shades and shields the depressing autumn can be the golorious of all fields bestest trees of lights in luminaire like the colors of stolen Augusts and the Jupiter before the shot of a wounded summer the listen of violens and the heard bird hummer now empty lines on empty pages like a no remember of the highlights of the faces with the drawn pencil a smoking scent evoked expressions painted in coffee and lost letters in the cold -------ravenfeels

26

*The Heart speaks a language clear The Mind limits it with a veil sheer The Heart prismatic A luminaire The Mind enigmatic Vision threadbare Unfathomable The depth Of The Heart The Mind feels shallow within*

0

Jan 17, 2018

Jan 17, 2018 at 6:25 AM UTC

sarita-aditya-verma

The Conflicts

*The Heart speaks a language clear The Mind limits it with a veil sheer The Heart prismatic A luminaire The Mind enigmatic Vision threadbare Unfathomable The depth Of The Heart The Mind feels shallow within*

13

Stoic amid the tranquil tides, the temperate zephyrs But a fluttering spark, travelling through the aeons Witness to the wonders of time, yet ever fleeting The bearer of that which outlasts this eternal folly However, for a certainty, even this steadfast paragon Does not foresee what the clock hands have in store And the fallen mouth their soft, intelligible rhymes Thus the air carries this ephemeral elegy of euphony But as the voices dance within those hallowed halls Sound brilliantly in harmony, a display of fervour The mosaic of echoes dismantled by fate's clutches Changes imminently, unavoidably, flawlessly Alas, the decadent phantoms of the days long gone In their irrefutable devotion to their fallacious lord Seek naught but to extinguish the astral avatar Embodied within the solitary luminaire, ever vigilant Does the final line of defence lay dormant even now As the messenger of the deep beyond revivifies The illusion dispelled, disenchanted, disengaged Situation growing direr, the peacekeeper absent Sealed within a decrepit maze, the mirrored world Drawing parallels between the unimaginable still Lost its own essence in the steadily rising entropy For none are safe; the fabric of reality is wounded Tendrils escape from the fissure, liberated at last Come what may, the very barriers between realms Once separating life and death, light and darkness, Brought down in a prismatic flash of scintillation And as that which tore this rift open runs rampant The spectres of the past in their perpetual undeath Whisper but a single innocent inquiry of naiveté "May we reclaim our corporeal selves once more?" An epiphany unlike most defeats wishful thinking The clairvoyant beholder, the ever-present observer Held their answer for as long as the currents of time Although hope succumbs last, what is after hope? Thus, in the demoralising wake of the bitter truth Let the untamed flames of fury loose, such tragedy Doom befalls the woeful, weary and withered worlds For the inconspicuous spark has ceased its motion The end justifies the means in the mind of madness

0

Apr 13, 2019

Apr 13, 2019 at 5:29 PM UTC

levottomuus

Nameless

Stoic amid the tranquil tides, the temperate zephyrs But a fluttering spark, travelling through the aeons Witness to the wonders of time, yet ever fleeting The bearer of that which outlasts this eternal folly However, for a certainty, even this steadfast paragon Does not foresee what the clock hands have in store And the fallen mouth their soft, intelligible rhymes Thus the air carries this ephemeral elegy of euphony But as the voices dance within those hallowed halls Sound brilliantly in harmony, a display of fervour The mosaic of echoes dismantled by fate's clutches Changes imminently, unavoidably, flawlessly Alas, the decadent phantoms of the days long gone In their irrefutable devotion to their fallacious lord Seek naught but to extinguish the astral avatar Embodied within the solitary luminaire, ever vigilant Does the final line of defence lay dormant even now As the messenger of the deep beyond revivifies The illusion dispelled, disenchanted, disengaged Situation growing direr, the peacekeeper absent Sealed within a decrepit maze, the mirrored world Drawing parallels between the unimaginable still Lost its own essence in the steadily rising entropy For none are safe; the fabric of reality is wounded Tendrils escape from the fissure, liberated at last Come what may, the very barriers between realms Once separating life and death, light and darkness, Brought down in a prismatic flash of scintillation And as that which tore this rift open runs rampant The spectres of the past in their perpetual undeath Whisper but a single innocent inquiry of naiveté "May we reclaim our corporeal selves once more?" An epiphany unlike most defeats wishful thinking The clairvoyant beholder, the ever-present observer Held their answer for as long as the currents of time Although hope succumbs last, what is after hope? Thus, in the demoralising wake of the bitter truth Let the untamed flames of fury loose, such tragedy Doom befalls the woeful, weary and withered worlds For the inconspicuous spark has ceased its motion The end justifies the means in the mind of madness

41

Immédiatement après le salut somptueux, Le luminaire éteint moins les seuls cierges liturgiques, Les psaumes pour les morts sont dits sur un mode mineur Par les clercs et le peuple saisi de mélancolie. Un glas lent se répand des clochers de la cathédrale Répandu par tous les campaniles du diocèse, Et plane et pleure sur les villes et sur la campagne Dans la nuit tôt venue en la saison arriérée. Chacun s'en fut coucher reconduit par la voix dolente Et douce à l'infini de l'airain commémoratoire Qui va bercer le sommeil un peu triste des vivants Du souvenir des décédés de toutes les paroisses.

0

348

Paul Verlaine

Immédiatement après le salut somptueux

Immédiatement après le salut somptueux, Le luminaire éteint moins les seuls cierges liturgiques, Les psaumes pour les morts sont dits sur un mode mineur Par les clercs et le peuple saisi de mélancolie. Un glas lent se répand des clochers de la cathédrale Répandu par tous les campaniles du diocèse, Et plane et pleure sur les villes et sur la campagne Dans la nuit tôt venue en la saison arriérée. Chacun s'en fut coucher reconduit par la voix dolente Et douce à l'infini de l'airain commémoratoire Qui va bercer le sommeil un peu triste des vivants Du souvenir des décédés de toutes les paroisses.

12