Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
~Bardic magistry
Woven unto
Sage & Seeress
Whose vision
Penetrates
The Temporal Expanse.

The Crowned of Epistemology
Reigns sovereign
Unfurled upon the Seven Seas,
The Firmaments,
And The Gaian Mother
Aeonic & venerable:

Dedicated to the
Sagacious, sapient, source of sonority;
Mine Matriarch Mavenette
Wielding wisdom
Pristine, amidst
The Chaos of Chthonic,
At times, adjacent,
NetherRealm:

Valhalla of the once Valiant Soul
Twas I
The Wound-Bearer;
Convalescing in Light
Of the Simulacrum of the Sun,
Until
Greater Eden arrives:

Through lore the soul is lifted unto heights once denied;
The onerous edicts of Gravity begotten to be defied.
We peregrinate this plane searching for Lovelit Life;
We depart in ascendency beckoned by the rapture of the Divine.

No soul knows all, yet by lore, we come to rise, rise
In our excellency sired by the Empyrean Sublime.
By the exhalation of our Exodus we ne’er know how to fly,
Yet the Wings of Phantasmagoria are bestowed upon the Wise.

Let reverie propel you eternally into the Baptistery of the Sun,
for His love is infinite, His light needs ne’er be won.
The Ages are ephemeral & the Zeitgeist like Winds of Time:
Yet the Sciential is forever & wisdom transcends time.

Know that there is more than seen with the eyes;
In this boundless cosmos, precepts are meant to be defied:
Make history therefore of thine bygone days,
For the unborn waxeth thine present: a time-transcending sage.

O, She is the Millennial Maven
Transcending Space & Time
Rising through the Exosphere; Excelling Ether
into Mind’s Fire.

O, She is the Sage of Dreamscapes, Summoning
Luminaries unto Gaia:
That the Wisdom of the Ancients
Illuminate Orbis Terrae.

O, the Impossible is Possible,
Through Amazonians such as thee,
Waging Warfare through Wisdom
That her Clansman might live free.

O, Rapture in a Zephyr
(Aromatic & Fragrant Winds)
She harnesses the Tempest of Futility, that
Ineffable splendor is borne in stead.

O, the Tapestry of Eternity unfolds
(Through the hands of thee)
For through thine counsel are souls made stalwart,
In the Visage of Shadows made to see.

O, been hazed, been dazed
Mine entity hath been flayed,
Until incarnadine raiment arrayed
And through Nox & Somnus, mine heartsease is betrayed.

Lo!  Yet as a wraith in pining
For the Land of Living & Immortal Truth,
O, the Priestess of the Sacrality of Sapience
Doth forge a revenant anew.

O, continue upon thine Pilgrimage
For thine spirit, it gleams:
Upon the Feuillemorte Leaves of Autumn
The Sacred Lotus, impregnable, breathes.

The Hiemal Sun glistens brighter
As discernment and time wax Sovereign Reign; knowledge is
The Diadem of The Epistemic Empress:
  The Monarchy of your claim.

May Splendor and Mercy
Be promised unto thee,
May you promenade life’s trek in credence
That the Wings of Manumission make thee truly free.

If by chance you findeth enfettered
Your soul through sentiments strewn
Wonder upon the liberation
You’ve woven into mind’s renewed.

O, the Soul shall reapeth,
That which it sows,
You’ve harvested the Seeds of Liberty,
Let the Diadem of thine Ascendency thus be made to grow.
May the sacraments
She confers,
Alight upon
Her
Own soul,
May She
effloresce
in the Light of The Empyrean One
Excelsior
Forevermore.

~Happy Holidays Beloved Ones.~

"Therefore, become imitators of God, as beloved children"

-Ephesians 5:1
Rishi Bharat Sep 2010
The country road like  poet’s fancies unravels
Through the   giant hanky- sized paddy fields
And  the dream  sized ponds
Dotting  the landscape
in perfect  squires and riots of skewed and regular shapes
The green spread and the muddy beds, spell the village beauty.

Parrot green fields
And  stark blue skies  look at each other
In perfect silence, like mother and babe
And a   great , grey house  exposing its ragged bricks,
Bared like  the buck tooth of the old
Provokes a  village memory

Past picking itself slowy and ambling into the future
Its wooden columns
stand like mute  exclamation marks!
or so it may  look to me.
Flies  the  skidding scaly tarred  snake  
Fast and spreading like the traveler travelling on it.

Patchy it looks, now;  
And  full like the  misery  of the scorned lover
Eager like  the  maiden speech of a parlimentarian  
The country road, runs  fluid like a stream after the rains.
As the rustle of the engine   trips and   falls
into the  divine  air.

A  roaming peacock calling adds  charm to the great whole  fare
A winged beauty, struts across
Nudged by the sputtering , speeding me.
The exotic avian   attains the hedges galore
With its   metal blue  feathery strangeness blurred in my glancing eye
A species rare, found only in ornithologists diary.

A  clamour in the  air
And the   school boys emerge in buddy pairs
Beneath the  village banyan
That  let loose its tresses to dry like a country maid.
I see, a promising glint in their eyes
The  will make themselves of  king and ministers of the modern days


The  sonority of ringing bell  
clubs the cacophony of school boys  in into two dead parts.
They return to their classes, sanctified by the silence,
And open their minds to the feminine vocie.
A Glorious moment ,
As the  morn of wisdom is born

Rich are the sightings of poor country side
And many are the mappings on the way,
My sensibilities recouped,
I drove back
not spent
But profound.


sound.
Nash Wolfe Dec 2014
A dedication to a Lost Love.

If only my simple words could captivate every emotion that I am trying to convey. To summarize an illustrious story which I hold close to my dearest heart; then I would give you the entire world and then even more. From the deepest skies I would soar, just to bestow a higher power that you deserve; I would revive our love and mark every ocean shore for all to glance upon. My heart sets on fire and burns in blazing flames every time I hear you say “I love you”. I lose control, my nerves kick in and I am frozen within time; with you everything seems endless. The taste of your sensational kiss halts my heart; for when we depart, I hold on to that very last kiss and cleanse to it compassionately; the thought of you ponders everlasting.




The night is glorious; as they lay beneath Earth’s stars and galaxy. He comforts her and clings to her compassionately. He rolls his love on her back, as he blankets her in his arms; he glances through her glamorous eyes and finally spoke with a smile. “I see everything through your eyes. I see all that’s dark and brutal, to all that’s beautiful and filled with light. I see my whole world through your eyes.”
    
       She looks at him with silence as she tries to find the words to speak; then in a moment the words filter out like a waterfall. “For years I could only wonder how your kiss tasted, your lips against mine. Your smell eluded me, like I was knocking on Heaven’s door, just waiting to see the angels fluttering, an exquisite sight to see, an incredible beauty, to love unconditionally; a romance that is endless. Through your soul I can read an illustrious story.”

     He pulls her close; where he can hear every breath that circulates through her lungs. Then he gives her a soft kiss and a flutter of butterflies pours out of his stomach. “Our lips touch and it’s like a surge of electricity between our bodies.”

     “Gravity stops existing. We float through mid air. Flying through Heaven, our lips are still connected.”

     Kevin’s heart skips a beat as it starts to pulse rapidly; pondering over the love of his life, he only wishes to freeze time. “We float through space and time, an infinite dream, free to create our own reality; just you and me.”

She turns away from Kevin as she looks out in the wilderness. A cold breeze shifts towards her, as brisk bumps crawl up her spine. Everything shifts away; the open sky becomes more transparent. The moon still beams overhead; echo of howls vibrate through the wind. The silence between them leaves them both helpless and inert. She stands underneath a tree; the shadow it caste conceals her image. The leaves ruffle the peaceful atmosphere, with each crinkle and niche. The grass swiftly moves under Kevin’s body as he remains on the ground alone.

She glances at him persist, as his eyes connect with hers. They exchange each other’s worlds. Then she starts to dream off in an oblivious state of mind. She quietly speaks to Kevin. “As we drift together through the bewilder reality, we are bound by vines weaving around one another. Correlating a sense of compassion, as we endeavor this sensation, I get lost forever.”

Kevin stands up as he reaches for her soft hand and pulls it close to his chest; every beat of his heart she felt through the palm of her hand, then he began to speak softly. “Forever lost in your eyes like an infinite dream, the most amazing fantasy, our bodies weaving together, our lives intertwine like vines on a building.”

As she grasps his hands she stands bold; her eyes become cloudy, the night manifest deeper. Eagerly she speaks. “I pledge to this raven that stalks the night and watches over our bound vines, preying on its victim, not wanting to lose sight of this *******. It lingers with emotion. For our vibes are so strong that it paralyzes every eye.” She glares directly into Kevin’s eyes. “They choke because they need air to breathe.  We memorize them with our feelings’.
    
     Kevin’s eyes shift as they change from gray to a deep green; he becomes weak as his knees break beneath him. Slowly he loses balance, but before he falls his love catches him; closely they stand together, their strength is upheld by each other. Kevin lightly touches his love’s face and deeply speaks. “We steal breaths from those around us to feed our imaginable love growing ever longer day by day”.
  
     Nearly out of breath, she tenaciously speaks to him. “Unstoppable, undefeatable, I’m breathing slowly as I get closer to a man that sustains a capacity that is like no other”. She grabs onto his chest tightly not wanting to ever let go. “Our love burns hotter than fire and can freeze your heart like ice. What we share with each other you can only seek it once in a life time”.

       A light breeze fills the atmosphere around them; the dark starry night still covers the sky. He stands up, leaving her side. She remains inert on the ground as he stands by a tree grasping for the words to rebut. “It burns ever hotter and freezes ever colder. Growing ever stronger, able to stop an army and break the strongest barriers, never faltering jolts of lightening across the blue sky, able to conquer all in the path of this love”.

She rises to him, as they share a kiss. Their life changes, the sun finally peeks over the horizon creating a new day.

They go their separate ways; as Kevin let’s go of his love’s hand and kisses it one more time. He walks alone with tension in his mind. Finally he reaches home and immediately goes straight to his room.
    
The window in Kevin’s room blows a cold breeze; curtains flutter as his door slams shut. Kevin only hears silence; a pin drops to his floor and lingers through his chamber. The moon’s light is the only source that shines for his sight. Kevin lays in his prison, alone pondering over his life.

“So much going through my mind, my head is spinning in circles; I am losing my balance and I am about to break. Circumstances are not where they should be; my life is slowly crashing. Everything is changing so fast, I don’t know where to catch a grasp. My strength is going down the drain and I don’t know how much longer I can hang on. My paths are caving in; every road feels block. I toss and turn through out the night, just to escape my oblivious mind. I take one step forward to fall three steps back”.

Kevin rolls over on his back, as his mind and heart contemplates over his emotion that tears him apart inch by inch. His insides are ripping out and he holds them in his hands. Kevin’s stomach turns as his heart explodes. His blood pressure rises; then he sinks into a deep inner thought.

      
“When I break, when I fall, when I lose myself and tumble, if I give all I am, when I’m ready to take, will I be strong enough to fight, as I wait? If I search will I find the answers that are hidden? All that I have forsaken, when I am expose to the openness, expose to the brokenness.”

       Kevin’s eyes grow tighter as he shields them shut. Complete darkness surrounds him; Hell burning up in flames touches his skin, red marks crosses his flesh. The heat rises, Kevin’s walls begin to melt; as his life crumbles beneath his feet. He still searches for a higher power to relieve his despair. Kevin’s mind is screaming out and silence falls to the ground. He lays on his casket alone; as he murmurs to himself.

“Here I am it feels like I am not breathing, like I am only dreaming! When I sacrifice, in order to let go, when I lose at every battle, my heart gets fainter as you get closer. I lose control, my body in despair, shaky and scared. I tremble with each step, afraid to fail, to make a mistake. Make me feel like you did when I first gazed through your eyes, I was seeing through Heaven’s gate. The angels flying based upon fate, I get lost in them for days, like pain doesn’t exist on the prosperity of serenity.”

     Kevin falls dead, as he drifts away in a dream. Clouds fill his mind, and then draw blank. Through a far distant Kevin hears a faint voice. The sound of an angel intervenes in his head. She creeps closer and her image starts to become clearer. Her skins like a smooth mocha cream; her eyes cleanses with the night, beauty that he has never seen. Kevin’s eyes become focuses on the angel; as she draws nearer. She opens her arms and softly speaks. “Fall into my arms gently, let me take control. M arms will be your security; your protection to keep you safe in this world. Let me guide and lead the way, a new beginning to another chapter. We can create a life together, fast or slow. I will ease your oblivious mind and erase all of your pain.” The angel comes closer to Kevin, as her hair blows in front of her face. She stares at him then softly conveys. “I will show you a form of love that you desired for so long; there are no limits to this sensation. We are free to take it and run, together we unit as one.”

     Kevin sits in polarization as her glances at the angel. He trembles with each word. “I want to wrap you in my arms and keep you in my warm embrace; to hold you there till the morning light breaks through the window. I will blanket you in my warmth that is my everlasting love”.

     She lays in Kevin's arms as his body intertwines around hers. The atmosphere gets cooler; the clouds are still flying through mid-air. She grabs his hand tightly. “Let’s keep each other company and share a deep compassion, traveling through countries marking territories. Let the moon be the only light, it beams softly on your face. I'm allowed to see your mystical eyes; they tell a long story”.

     Kevin falls back, and the angel follows too. “I will take you through the highest mountains, the lowest valleys, across the coldest tundra’s and the hottest deserts. We will go through the deepest jungles, and the furthest reaches of the ocean, from the rings of Saturn, back to the grass of Iowa, without leaving our room”.

  “Through the great valley we will go; I will follow you till the end of time. You are worth fighting, let all the pain and heart ache subside. Our love is much greater than a storm that roars thunder and strikes lightening.” The angel slides her hand across Kevin’s face; he feels her warm embrace through the palm of her hand.

     Kevin closes his eyes and words unravel within time. “Our love reaches farther than the longest roads; it’s deeper than the deepest ocean. It is greater than the greatest features of human history, more amazing than the pyramids, and larger than life of the greatest man.” He pauses and takes in a deep breath and allows it to circulate deep within.

     The angel flutters her beauty to Kevin, as his eyes widen with every movement to makes. She solemnly floats away, but she still remains within Kevin’s sight. She quietly murmurs. “Let’s unravel this story and see how great this love really is, unlock every bind that once trapped our hearts. It can finally be released and freed. Lets forget about the past and the pain it once caused, for nothing else matters. We pulled through this far; still happy as a child’s laughter, withering deeper to a place like no other”. She takes a quick pause as she grasps for air. “The rivers flow much deeper, waterfalls flow much heavier, and affection growing greater. For it never decays as it ages; it just becomes more valuable through every night and day.”

     Memorized by every word she conveys, Kevin expresses his love like never before. He shifts to his left side and holds on to his treasure tighter. “I am ready to explore the love we have like the tombs of the ancient kings. I’m ready to take the twist and turns, never knowing what is yet to come, only knowing we’ll be side by side the whole way through, till the end of time, just you and I, on our road of love” Kevin’s heart aches with  prosperity, explosion that is within his soul. His body shakes and quivers every time his heart makes a beat. He looks at this creation as if she is all he could ever see. Kevin kisses her gently; his heart races more. Their lips disconnect and a light surrounds them. He stands behind the angel and whispers in her ears. “My soul is yours, along with my heart for you to take, to do what you wish. My love for you can not be measured. I hope to be in your heart for the rest of days”.

       Kevin’s arms remain blanket around the angel, the night that covers the starry sky. They both look out in the clouds where peace is found. She turns around in Kevin’s barrier and gently the crisp of her fingertips glides through his hair, the lips of the angel moves like calmness of an ocean. “Time can’t capture every split moment. I deprive your touch, your love, never wanting to let go. I still held on waiting for the day. Years passed over and we reunited; we picked up where we left off as if we never lived years without each other”.

     Kevin reminisces for a moment and draws himself back to the past. He stands by the angel as the memories play over in his head. “Days came and went and still I thought of you; the months came and gone and still I thought about you; the years rolled by and by and still I thought about you. Then I thought of you no more because you were in my arms again. You and I entangle like vines climbing up the wall, wrapping around each other”. The angel gives Kevin a light kiss and says her goodbye. He watches her leave his presents then says, “Wait, my love when I will see you again?” The silence answer Kevin’s question
The clouds wither away; the bright sky turns dark and gray. Everything around Kevin vanishes, then a cloud of smoke appears and a whisper conveys “Open your eyes and you will see me soon”. Kevin immediately opens his eyes and there his love was lying next to him. They both lay there sleepless and inert, as they fall asleep together. Their dreams intertwine with one another creating serenity.

         The waves collide as the ocean breaks to sonority then to calmness. A crack in which divides Heaven and Hell, with all the immoral things some how beauty is still found. There is a place where there is peace known as serenity. It helps people see everything; as the ocean departs and a new wave deprives the collision roars till the end of time.

      Kevin took a deep breath and let it lingered in the wind; then took a glance at the love of his life and spoke alluring words. "Walk through the veil from reality, to make believe. Allow your mind to drift into serenity pieces of you and me, together to keep in your heart and in your mind. I will show you the path to serenity."

       The love of his life pondered over Kevin’s words then responded back: "Will you drift with me to a place where there is serenity? A sacred piece that lets us be together, where there is no pain or suffering. Only the monuments that represent all that is make believe, a separation from reality.” She pushed her hair aside. “Where dreams guide the way, saving a memory to capture and remember. Will you grant me this serenity? Walk with me to this place that is unknown."

     Kevin took a few steps forward, and then paused. "This place is known to me. It’s anywhere that you’re with me and anyplace that I am with you, in the darkest dark or the brightest bright, the highest high or the lowest low. Serenity is you with me; happiness is me with you."

     She tightly closed her eyes and drifted away to a paradise in her oblivious mind. "I search for serenity when I reach my darkest hour. When the sun sets and ends another day. It’s never too dark when you’re with me. You’re the greatest light source that I will ever need.” She smiled at Kevin. “Happiness is a term that portrays an emotion where at times it’s inde
JP Goss May 2014
The sun, so lover-like, ran her fingers
Through the glistening leaves,
Movements soft, so full of intention
Their waxy dew, shuttered in response,
A low moan played in the breeze,
The light of sonority contrasts the electric
Disharmonies in the stormy afternoon.

Though I could feel a forest now eased
The river that runs through
Carried the blood of a plural heart
Beating with a passion akin in power, though enemy in fashion,
As its waves beat the banks
Eroding them into, eating up the aridness
As though slaking were its due, muddying the sky’s blue
From its surface, piercing the eyes from its reflection
Discouraging, this turbid froth, from worth of further inspection.

It rages and rages over rocks so violently
Picking at its slimming walls, making and claiming
Detritus along the path so that all the beauty a river is
Crashes, collides, and disfigures—a chaos growing
Bigger and bigger—the speed of its wrath
Bespeaks of its wake, blasting the earth (Watch it dissipate!)
Out of my sight it runs its due course south
Spitting the detritus that arrives
At the mouth.
Nigel Morgan Dec 2014
The Open Studio

Usually the journey by car flattens expectation, and there’s that all-preoccupying conversation, so one only takes in the view where there’s a halt at a traffic light or at the occasional junction. A pattern on a wall, a damaged sign, a curtained window. Waiting, one looks and sometimes remembers, and what one sees later reappears in dreams or moments of disordered contemplation. A train journey is another matter: you sit and look, and when it is a trip rarely made, you put the book away and gaze beyond the ***** windows to a living landscape that scrolls past the frame of view. When you arrive there’s inevitably a walk: today through a town’s industrial hinterland, its pastness where former mill buildings have tactfully changed their use to become creative places, peopled with aspiration and strange activity. Walking reveals the despair of forlorn roadside business falling back into alleys ending in neglected and empty buildings, so much *******, silences of waste and decay.

But here’s the space, there’s a sign on a board outside, OPEN STUDIO TODAY. Entering inside it is quiet and cold, the door remaining open to let in the December air and the hoped-for visitors. But it’s bright and light: a welcoming presence of work and people and coffee and cake. And here’s the studio, a narrow space between make-shift walls where the artist works, where the work awaits, laid out on the surfaces of desks and tables, on shelves and walls, specimens of making; ‘stuff’, the soon-to-be, the collected, the in-progress-perhaps, the experimental.

Good, a heater blows noisily onto cold fingers. In the turbulent air pieces tremble slightly from their hangings on the walls. They are placed at a good height, a ‘good to be close to examine the detail’ height, the constructed, the made, the woven, the stitched, the printed, all assembled by the actions of those quiet, intent, those steady hands. There, a poem on a wall next to the window. Here, photographs of places unlabelled, unrecognised, but undoubtedly significant as a guide to the memory. Look, a dead badger lying in a road.

Next to the studio, a gallery space. Two walls covered with framed prints, well lit, a body of work captured behind glass, in limbo, waiting patiently for the attentive eye to sort the detail, that touch of the object on paper, that mark found and brought out of time and place. Perhaps these ‘things’, some known, some mysteriously foreign adrift from their natural context, have been collected by that bent form on a windswept beach, by the hand reaching out for the  gift in the gutter, struck by the foot on the track, unhidden in the grass by the riverside, what we might pass as without significance and beyond attention. This artist gives even the un-namable a new life, a collected-together form.

Moving closer let the eye enter the artist’s world of form and texture - and colour? There is a patina certainly, colour’s distant echo, what is seen on the edges, a left-behindness, more than any subtlety of language knows how to express, beyond comfortable descriptions, not excitable, where the spirit is damped down and is restful to the mind, a constancy of background, like a capturing of a cloud but bulging full of hints and suggestions, where texture is everywhere, nature’s rich patterns colliding with things once invented and made, used once, once used left and changed, thrown away, to be brought before the selecting eye and the possibility of form with meaning its patient partner.



J.M.W.Turner writes  on poetry and painting

Poetry having a more extensive power
Than our poor art, exerts its influence
Over all our passions; anxiety for our future
Reckoned the most persistent disposition.

Poetry raises our curiosity,
Engages the mind by degrees
To take an interest in the event,
And keeping that event suspended,
Overturns all we might expect.

The painter’s art is more confined,
Has nothing to equate with the poet’s power.
What is done by painting must be done at once,
And at one blow our curiosity receives
All the satisfaction it can know.

The painter can be novel, various and contrast,
Such is our pleasure and delight when put in motion.
Art, therefore, administers only to those wants,
And only to desires that exercise the mind.



Twilight

A day aside and diaried into busy lives
So to a morning walk to Turner’s View
Above the River Wharfe and Farnley Hall
Where it is said the inspiration came
For his famous oil of Hannibal,
with elephants and storm-glad Alps.

On to lunch where six around a table
Souped with salad before we homed
Mid afternoon the day in decline
We were done with words so watched
The edge-timed light flow between our hands.

Inevitably we climbed the stairs to lie
In twilight’s path beneath the skylight’s
Square a sliver-moon we couldn’t see
Gracing the remaining daylight hour
Marbled with shadows our collected
Curves and planes lay as sculptures
In the approaching dimity and dark
Each experimental stroke of touch
Holding us dumb to speech and thought
As night’s soft blanket covered us entire


Northcliffe Woods

Oh nest in the sky, empty of leaves,
Those tangled branches
Reaching out from twisted trunks
Into the sullen clouds above, when

Suddenly a crow -
Corvidae’, she said -
And simultaneously pulled
a hank of ivy from a nearby tree.

Hedera Helix I thought
But did not say, instead
I whispered to myself
Those ancient names I knew.

Bindwood, Lovestone
(For the way it clings
To bricks but ravages walls),
A vine with a mind of its own. But

She, in a different frame that day,
Apart, adrift and far away
From our usual walk and talk,
Fixed her gaze on the woodland floor,

Whilst skyward I sought again that
Corvid high in the branches web
Black beyond black beyond black
Against the pale white canopy above.


Franco*

Blow She Still
Ed insieme bussarono
Sweet Soft Frain
Cloche Lem Small
Spiri About Sezioni
Portrait Eco Agar
Le ruisseau sur l’escalier
Etwas ruhiger im Ausdruck
Jeux pour deux
For Grilly Fili Argor
Atem L’ultima sera
Omar Flag Ave
The Heart’s Eye*

play joy touch
code panel macro
refraction process solo
quick-change constrained
hiatus sonority colour
energy post-serial scintillating
aleatoric reuse transformation

A lonely child who imagined music
on sunday walks, he would talk about
how one lives with music as someone
would talk about how one might live
with illness or a handicap. He said,
‘You cannot write your life story in
music because words express the self
best whereas music expresses something
quite beyond words’.
This is collection of new and previous verse and prose gathered together as a gift for Christmas 2014 and New Year 2015. Each poem was accompanied by a photograph or painting. Sadly the wonderful Hello Poetry has yet to allow such pairings. The poem constructed from the words of J.M.W.Turner makes a good case I think for bringing image and word together - at least occasionally.
Sometimes we goof; sometimes we’re aloof
yet all of truth is under one roof

All the same really; not always so clearly
Reduce not to merely the entire theory

The arts carried magic before mass production
But still can be found, the numinous induction

Minority knows; majority knew
Sonority is truth….can you hear it too?
J. W. Mar 2010
Listen to windmills,
Breathe, become breath

Coarse hair is stroked across strings
A the faint sonority travels on winds
Bold changes in the sky, it is cleaned
Violin!, imerse me now in your squandered dreams

Listen to windmills
Learn to breathe, become breathing man

The bones hammer, tuning in on precession
Lower the drums, turn a slow recession
Imagine circling down metal tubes and dripping out
fluidly over the sounds of the Englar Alheimsins
a journey to the underworld, home?

Englar Alheimsins; listen to windmills breathe

Write in spite.
Nash Wolfe Dec 2014
The waves collide against the ocean shore and covers up the footprints that lay before. As it breaks into sonority then to calmness; harmony is created. As we watch the dolphins swim, we grasp only peace and serenity. We feel the breeze in the wind and our feet cresting the sand. The dolphins echo in the far distance; yet it seems like they are within our reach. Their skin glistens from the beating of the sun. The ocean departs, but beauty is still found between the cracks of life and death. The church bell rings and wakes the mourners from their sleep. Everyone is preparing for the awake. Sorrow and sadness is within our hearts. Our flesh was ripped and torn apart; parasites were eaten away at our stomachs. We covered up the tears we had shed; as we walked in the funeral parlor and saw our friend dead.  


            The meaning of death is the ending of some one's life; it is a departure from this world onto the next. Death brings upon alterations for friends and family because we are force to say good-bye to an individual that was once part of our lives. The feeling of loneliness strikes through our hearts because a missing piece is gone. The ironic aspect about death is even though it brings sorrow, it awakens a fear in the depth of our souls. It is a sudden realization that death can happen at any moment. Rather we expect it or it raid with no warnings. The perspective of life alters, we stop taking so much for granted. The uncanny feeling we receive when we stand in front of a coffin; a dead corpse lays in it. Eventually their skin will decay and deteriorate; their bones will become brittle. Then only a skeleton will remain in the bed that once laid someone that was a part of this Earth. Now a tomb stone marks what is left of their body. With a quote that is engraved on their stone that represented them; a remembrance.

            The day approached and my heart and soul were in my throat; I felt as if I was paralyzed. I cried so hard that every time I spoke my voice would tremble. I was torn apart. My insides burned into flames; my organs were at a crisp turning into ashes. My head was pounding; confusion and disturbance ran through my mind. I could not embrace any clear thoughts. It felt like a thousand voices were contemplating in my head. My nerves showed through the shaking of my hands.  My entire body ached of pain; nails were piercing through every inch of my skin. I did not want to believe that she was dead. A part of me wished it was just a dream; I wasn’t ready to face reality. My thoughts gyrated around delusions. The last memory of Laura that I contemplated at her funeral was when I saw her, a week before she passed away. I glanced over at my perplex father; as he leaned forward for the entire ceremony with his head down. It was the first time that I saw my father cry and when I did, I felt the burning of souls trapped in Hell. His eyes were cloudy from the tears. His face became languish; as his hands shook from the nerves arousing. That day he lost his girlfriend, his best friend. Half of his heart was stolen and crumbled; a gap was formed and now remains empty. I could not read his mind, but I did not have to because his pain penetrated through everyone's body and emotions. His body was still, frozen like an ice burg; not even the sun could melt away my father's sorrow.

            It was time to say our good-byes. My father and I slumped down the aisle dragging stones behind us. We approached Laura's coffin and for a split moment he just gazed over her dead corpse. She laid in her peaceful bed, but she wasn’t awake--she was dead. Then my father took off his hat and pressed it against his chest. He leaned in to kiss Laura on her artic cheek. Just like Romeo kissing Juliet; my father said his farewell. Overhead rolled in a thunder storm and the pressure of rain began to pour down everyone's face. In an instant my father's love for Laura broke the glass of every window and stopped all movement in the funeral parlor. From that moment on I viewed my father differently. I knew right there that my father would never love another women as much as he loved Laura.

            When we left the funeral my father's and I relationship changed forever. Laura was the link that connected us; now there is a fissure that separates us. After facing death I finally understood the meaning of it. It is not a gathering for mourners to say good-bye to a love one, but rather a time to come together to celebrate a remembrance of a life. For even dolphins need time to rest forever at the bottom of the ocean. Laura's biggest dream was to swim with one; now she can forever rest in peace with them. Now I walk this Earth with Laura underneath my feet, with a gravestone reading “Remember me not as I am now, but as I use to be”.  

            In conclusion, life is a precious gift that is not meant to be taken for granted. Through Laura's death I realized the value of life and how it is too short to accumulate regrets, hatred and the past. I also embrace the life lesson that her death taught me; every day is another chance to grow, change, forgive, and to make a difference. My friend Laura will always impact my life forever. Death is a rude awakening to a human's eye; a realization that puts fear in our lives. Through Laura's death I discovered that in reality it is a natural beauty, not necessarily a final good-bye. I learned that a life truly never ends at death because the memories are what keep them alive. Just like the common prayer says, “Fill not your heart with pain and sorrow, but remember me in every tomorrow”. As I go on living my life I try to live it to the fullest. Laura's death awoken an acknowledgement that life is a gift, not a privilege and at any moment it can be abstracted from us.
Krusty Aranda Apr 2015
Your name.
Your sweet name.
Even when I hear it from someone else
it has a particular sonority
that affects my soul, weakens it,
and surrenders to you.

And it haunts me. And it follows me.
Wherever I go someone calls your name.

Oh, your name.
Each letter hurts me, digging in my heart
like seven tiny daggers,
bleeding out.

It hurts to know.
Reaffirm day after day the fact that you are not mine,
and that you never will.

Far away.
I want you far away, but not distant.
The pain of your absence is greater than the pain of your presence.
Violent convulsion that my heart suffers every time I lay my eyes upon you.

You.
Visual representation of a name.
A name that kills me and gives me life.
A name that moves me and paralizes me.
A name.
Your name.
Snehith Kumbla Sep 2016
Venus flashes in the horizon
a distant torchlight,
invisible constellations
seep the sky's sonority,

the mysterious
assumes a drab
uniformity,

construction inches closer,
stale reptilian cringe...
tired gaiety of headlights
groping home,

that carefree shepherd
within, long lost
and forgotten...
Goodbye Pune, the charming small town that is fast becoming a snarling, chaotic city.
Shaqui Scott Oct 2013
There is no proper syntax to express how I feel
No portrait with all its ambience or lore can display the imagery of my heart
No sonority, melodies, or arrangement of harmonies can generate sounds to convey my disposition
The prolongation of moments with you bare weight
with in my mind I held the fabrication that I possessed the strength
The strength of Samson
But reality never strays to far from dreams
I have faltered
My back has given out
My legs no longer stand strong
The hair i once wore which was the pinnacle of my strength
has been removed from my scalp
But I last even though my strength has departed
I will remain beneath this weight until I regain the strength
To hoist the weight again.
Devan Proctor Jul 2013
The absence of sound may be barren and voiceless,
but this peace that seems so calm and solemn
is as loud and consuming as our ears can stand.

A house devoid of noise and energy
is a windless winter’s night,
is a mind with a chance to finally speak
without interruption.

All the louder and more resonant,
all the more demanding than any fireworking,
freight train, foghorn…

In this case, the sonority of nothing is convincing.

In my case, this illusion of peace and quiet
reveals itself as less than a butterfly’s whisper,
yet more constant,
more prominent.
It insists upon itself as if it were real.

Is it?
It never lasts.

The presences of all noise-
from the leaf’s dance
to the cracks of thunder-
can cut through it like a blade.

Any spare word can dissipate this thick lapse
like locusts slicing the air,
coloring what cries between silences.
Finn Poole Nov 2015
It's like there's music playing in my ear, but the music is impossible,
Impossible to hear.
It makes a movement quietly,
And something moves inside of me,
And I'm free to see the sonority
Written with my darling izzie
Aly Fatal Sep 2010
Today I looked down at the dark side of my hand, saw a freckle and I thought of you.
I never knew you lack the back of my hand
Always a foreign country
I knew you like your like your sleeves rolled up and your chest pushed out when you teach
I knew you like golden forearms working and your smirk as you looked up at me
I knew you like your copious black lashes and pink lips etched onto my fingertips
I knew you like knowing just what to say to make you want to hit me
And just what to say to make you want to kiss me
I knew you like this (like you)
But its been awhile since I’ve forgotten it
It didn’t hurt like I expected
Now I wait for someone to know me like:
I eat every three hours or else I am going to be grumpy
Or baby why don’t you put on some socks for me
Like my affection is judged by the sonority of my kiss on your cheek
And somehow still love me
When I look down at the side of my hand that can’t ever know how  skinlust feels  
I think of you and think of how you knew me like the winner of a spelling bee
After long hours of study
And maybe someone (out there) knows me like flower for a honey bee
Instinctively
Finn Poole Aug 2016
This place so soreen,
My mind so clean,
Away from the screen that hides the forever unseen,
The minds of society that just want us to go quietly,
Live with out variety,
Die in anxiety,
According to them we need to respect authority,
Avoid our priorities,
Follow the majority and accept our inferiority but what if the minority fight superiority and sing for equality, let them hear the sonority of the lower population and we'll give you a demonstration of a hierarchy rotation as we take our lives back,
Your reign is under attack because if we all club together we'll have power and wether or not we use it is up to us,
And the government will be left superfluous
What 2am can produce
Here is where the oncoming figure knows you.
   We have no realization of time. Of how long
   it will take for us to both decompose. This is
   already a peccadillo. Mirrors brand conclusions.
   The body lets go of its weight like anchorage.
   How I measure warmth is a device that does not
   concern you. Light inches and asks me how soon.
   Already a blunder, an inner life revealed –

Between this carefully studied distance where sometimes
   lines are crossed, a remorse is hoarded, exclusive
   enigmas of hope. Contort this body if you will.
   Between the barely-living and the already gone
   is where I windhover. Sealed shut in hermetic space.
   My desperation becomes a syntax of waiting

and there will be all beautiful horses, and faces in transit
   everytime you pass is an announcement to where
  I cast myself into a miscalculated sonority,
  hauled out of, loosely identified.
Praggya Joshi Apr 2018
Do you remember those days
When we ran upon
Verdant fertile soils
Our nimble feet
Sinking deep into the soft mud
With windswept hair
Brushing against
Our damp skin
Glistening with beads of sweat
The scent of an everlasting summer
Permeated the air
As we played hide and seek
Under a canopy of singing birds
And the sunlight scattered over us
In shimmering golden circles
The sound of our laughter
Pulsating with boundless vigor
Rippled through the radiant skies
Of the most beautiful sunsets
While the dark of the night
Couldn't touch us
We were busy
Swaying and spinning
Under the starlight
Did the sun changed its course
Or did we grew up too fast
That loamy earth is crumbling
It's vitality long gone
Barren and abandoned
It yearns to hear
The melody of beating hearts
The air is heavy
With the deathly weight
Of a silence never felt before
But once a while
The fading echoes of our voice
Can be heard
Barely breaking
The stillness that abounds here
That invigorating sonority
Of the whistling birds
Has been drowned in
A harsh cacophony
Desperately revolting
To breathe life back
In a land
That was painted with
The colors of kaleidoscopic souls
Long ago
This decaying land
Won't call for a second glance
But if you haven't forgotten your roots
Someday you will look back
retrace your steps
And stare wide eyed
At the Graveyard
Of our childhood
On the piano, to accompany a singer
is an endeavour for just a few.
Fingers and breath kneel on the pew
for the Lied to be the foremost winner.

Balanced tempi, rhythm, pauses,
are all vital for musical clauses.
Dynamics, sforzandos, rubatoes
withdraw the discourse from Thanatos.

Both follow the very same score
but impress their own personality:
a rendition with evenness is a bore
as it affects the whole sonority.

And to accompany a partner
in sickness and in health?
First to your dog and hamster,
turning poverty into wealth?

Musical duets reflect any relationship,
with standing ovation or fiasco-evening:
you either embark on a gorgeous trip
or succumb to an experience dreading.
Safana May 2020
Going to school
I am coming to school

Let the luster
Soaped away
All the eclipse
Of philistinism
Stolidity, to fade away

I am coming...
Really, I am coming to school

Let the light
Strike my eye
Make my sight
Crystal clear
To see the candor

I am coming...
Surely, I am coming to school

Let the sonority
Pierce my ear
Make myself
To believe, I
Can go to school
Nikola Sep 2020
Indeed it is wood, yet the rain is indifferent, rattling nonchalantly on a porch. And yes it is the lungs, yet the rain isn't bothered,
catching my quick foot by daylight still. A nightly night will follow, henceforth must I crawl, for the rain can't catch my quick hands.
In this nightly night will I heavily breathe. In it will I be covered in the sheets of fear. Oh, how I adore but the sonority of the bell,
it has rung. Indeed it is the door, yet while here I crawl, where are my keys again? Inside my attire, where common folk is clad the least. My feet, indeed. Splendiferous, a perception so seldom foretold that a guess not drenched in error only I behold. Nightly attire it is not, hereby I assume, drenched in error as I am, no nightly tree today will look between wool and ankle.
Horrendous, no doubt. An error I have made, for the nightly trees know for sure, while long I crawl the floor, the rain hath catched the feet before, and therefore too, locked stays the door.
Unbeknownst, no whereabouts, no doubt they know my secrets now. Should rain halt, I could run, yet in the floor my hands are sunk. A ray of light is eaten by, the nightly tree, it meets my eyes. Forsaken, forsaken, forsaken I. The resonant bell has swung good bye. This nightly night is where I die, alas these nightly trees are right. Oh right, an iron key I left beneath, where people look for iron keys, the doormat indeed. I will go inside then.
Stretching my voice
Until the very corners of the town
Ring with sonority
Up from the cliff
I shout to the unspeakable

And back to me
They send their silent answers
On invisible breezes
That carry the cries of the unheard

Then from the cliff
I sing their woes
For everyone to listen to
And for the masked leaders to heed
Let us all sing together

— The End —