"recants" poems
Dear Indigo Night,
The stars enchant me
While a band recants
An old tune that swings
On their porch of wood.
Tonight's cool grass
Contrasts the meteor shower up above
As we sit in a circle laughing
And having a grand time.
We pass around candles,
Singing along and praising each other,
While our woes turn to mists
That flutter away
Up into the night sky.
Moon of moons
And stars of decadence,
Take us away so that we may dance together,
Forever,
As space and time fade to dust.
Apr 12, 2019
Apr 12, 2019 at 2:17 PM UTC
1.
The scent; amber
The color; pine
The touch; echos
The sound; blind
They are
All
of the senses
Intertwined.
2.
Sweet Robin, alight... takes to wing
Bruce's laughter, a booming thing.
Mark serenades, Michelle My Belle
Rog recants exploring tells
Scott japes, and keith's ad libs
Karen oh Karen, heaven forbid!
Artists Dreamers Escapists Poets.
Jesters Lovers Genius Knowers.
Alarmists minimalists
Extroverted introverts
Fighters flighters
Together
Loners
Nov 10, 2014
Nov 10, 2014 at 10:25 PM UTC
Up on the hillside the lone tot recants
The vow made in lust to the one who's free.
For love is not real when all's blood and plants.
A reality this boy can now see.
He looks to the left to the horizon,
a confederacy of dunces say
or so his tools claim, a false liaison.
Nothing is true without the light of day.
So the toy soldier was one with the wind.
This heart that he holds his spirit rescinds.
Nov 25, 2013
Nov 25, 2013 at 2:40 PM UTC
Tireless hours fleeting away with more vigor now than before
Tedium, wallowing helplessly, while I use my pick and keep digging
I’m digging to find the hidden agenda, the reason for me to survive
I’m digging to bury my past incarnation, I’m digging to conceal my life
My actions don’t follow me, they’ve blocked off the exit from the mine
And the shafts that hold the lumbering earth at bay seem indifferent
My self is the true menace
It despises my flesh and recants my existence
It lunges at me in the darkness, striking at me with its claws
My eyes glow ice blue in the reflection when I see him
And I tepidly back into the wall
As clods first break off and larger chunks follow
The grey skin of my self shimmers and the beast broadens its shoulders
He pounces as the ground crashes in all around us
My death is his beginning
Mar 26, 2010
Mar 26, 2010 at 9:40 PM UTC
In this unreal reality,
How does it feel to be blind,
In an abyss of ignorance of the darkest kind,
Eyes are locked under heavy lids,
Encrusted under layers of dust,
Evidence of life long gone,
When leisure time was pleasure time,
For you are not deceased,
Your heart beats on in tragic solitude,
The chill outside, encases a fiery interior,
Banners laid aside,
Stuck tight, trapped within trends of poetic justice,
A judicial reward, not retribution,
Poetry is our solution,
For she opens eyes to vision,
Dissects the world around,
Recants impressions of visual images,
As imagination plays,
Surface sights alone, conjure no imagery,
To see vision for what it's really worth makes life enchanted!
By ladylivvi1
© 2013 ladylivvi1 (All rights reserved)
Aug 9, 2013
Aug 9, 2013 at 6:59 PM UTC
Candles flicker,
Shadows jump and dance,
In the room,
Where a woman stands,
She is beautiful,
By mans standards,
High brows and sculpted cheeks,
A temptress' smile,
She stands,
Still like a stone,
Dressed up,
Perfect make up,
The door shrieks,
and slowly opens,
She squeezes her eyes shut,
A chill from her toes to her nape,
She knows,
No man may pass though,
The door of the dead,
She can guess the spirit,
Her mind cuts back,
To an October day,
She lost everything,
And turned to him,
He gave her wealth,
He gave her looks,
He gave her Fame,
He became her all,
She gave him a promise,
She gave him her heart,
He stole her soul,
And comes to collect,
She recoils at the touch,
Of sharp ice,
And fiery Steel,
She recants,
But it is too late,
She is his,
He will ravage her,
In his eternal fire,
Apr 13, 2016
Apr 13, 2016 at 10:44 AM UTC
If you want to sacrifice the admiration of many men for the criticism of one, go ahead, get married. Katherine Hepburn
Altar-ed
Imbedded in my memory
Scratchy soundtrack moments at 33rpms
The wicked life I led
Wine soaked nights
Days steeped in bourbon blur
Pagan cadence to the sacred space
Thrumming drums of pen to paper
Cryptic rhythm of words slurred
In sweat and desperation
My imagination
I reveled in potential pleasure
So many suitors spellbound and broken
In my wake I take nothing
The carnal flesh set for sacrifice
On the altar of forbidden dreams
My mind sullied, body clean
And you came with sober notes
The subtle structure of a tempered life
Traded my tambourine
For shackles
Mother, wife….
Dry eyed I cleave to you
Under quiet skies
My mind recants
The rigid friction of your words
My body yours when this mind’s empty
Adequate sacrifice for the sanctuary
Of dreamless creeping sleep.
TL Boehm 070408
Sep 3, 2014
Sep 3, 2014 at 6:22 PM UTC
Train tracks
long abandoned
birds chirp
history recants
old stories
hidden in meadows
facades rain washed
I hear only my shadow
hugging me
lurking in the dusk
a ghost
with gleaming sword
I tremble in the cold
he, who does not exist
wants me
May 17, 2019
May 17, 2019 at 1:37 AM UTC
I hear the pace of modern rime
I guess its not the best but fine
My mind recants archaic verse
The question chimes death or rebirth?
Nov 8, 2014
Nov 8, 2014 at 11:01 AM UTC
Explain Krieg und Krise. Remember Nanjing. Hand twist nasturtium, trim Elijah in no other language but your own. Delicious, decked against scurvy despite punishing days world unwraps, made available to voracity, where would you build, on what day? Perfection unable to sit still comes towards ambush as peasant night squeaks to the border. Chanticleer in linear e phlox stammers discretely, hammers combination, blends tonality. Gravid as brook trout, orangerie cascades kanji. Bucolic spasm shimmering, weeping runes a la Giverny become Cycladic, veers off color’s lambent arsenal. Caustic repeats, Gatling interferes, hope bails, song recants. A Zebedee in Flemish hue cracks *** luck, lets out gurgle. But in good fortune, peaches to daisies, Abigail to titmouse, family is raised.
Jan 22, 2018
Jan 22, 2018 at 12:15 AM UTC