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dayredeemer

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  1. Upvote
    dayredeemer got a reaction from Change in Poetry Corner   
    The Pub

    Time enough to tell our tales
    Of wonderment at the ever changing world
    As we spin our stories upon the evening air,
    Made rich by our love of unmomentous moments shared:
    It is the stillness between dancing steps,
    The gracious droop of laughing eyes,
    The half unspoken, half unsung
    Fact of our friendship
    That keeps trouble waiting outside the tavern door,
    And us, ever breathless, for more, more, more.
  2. Upvote
    dayredeemer got a reaction from Change in Poetry Corner   
    [b]Frogs and Princesses[/b] (in honour of Grido)

    an anxious frog from a pad on his pond
    would ponder upon the proximity of princesses.
    they would perplex him with their appetites
    for picnics beneath parasols whilst practising kisses.

    one day a chef from the castle was summoned
    with garlic and herbs he buttered the girls' lips
    and off came the frog's legs in two scissor snips.
    No more hopping for a brighter future.


    [b]Bonedog[/b]

    Bonedog and Creamcat: tenacious, content
    One followed the other wherever she went:
    Excepting treetops and other high places,
    then he would practice pulling fearsome faces...

    Not to be scary or to cause fright,
    just trying to keep his slack jaw tight.
    Bonedog saw Creamcat kissing the moon.
    " i hope she comes back to me sooner than soon."
  3. Upvote
    dayredeemer got a reaction from Change in Poetry Corner   
    Five Thorns

    As she nestled her blue orchid love beside his scarlet rose,
    she felt an arid, aromatic breeze descend like cardamon dust,
    and in that moment she gave herself away.She knew.
    Heart crushed, her berry-blushed lips bled ruby tears.

    There were those who had born witness to their courtship vows;
    the misheard ensnared percussive tattoo of love empemeral.
    But as the morning shade gathered under the yawning trees
    the light revealed a back-scratched promise broken.Skin deep.

    And embedded in her foliage green
    there lay blooded five abandoned thorns.
  4. Upvote
    dayredeemer got a reaction from Change in Poetry Corner   
    Mirth

    Listen... Listen...
    Listen to the elemental orchestra of water
    Filling to the brim the basins and bowels of the earth with music,
    Each chiming chord regulated by The Maestro's
    Fluid, tempered hand.

    Today, without the wind and absent rain
    The baton rests and Mirth takes a leaving bow.
    The fountain's chorus sleeping, the whirlpool's rondo aquiet.
    The low meandering river hymns its bleeding threnody,
    And the mouth that kisses the ocean's lips
    surrenders the sweetest of lyrics with an exhausted sigh.

    Tomorrow the land will be dry.

    It falls to Memory to shed a tear,
    A cry containing the moist melodic seeds of life.
    Beseeching the sky to reform the world
    With vital verse and prodigious rhythm.

    Seize these semi-quavers of hope
    Place them upon Nature's stave.

    Create a new signature of time
    and bless the fresh key changes.

    At last, at last,
    Mirth sloughs off the drought of slumber,
    And with experienced, spinning hand
    Collects The Sky's scattered dew drops,
    And beats down blue thunder taps from the podium.

    The land has life and can now listen
    to the new strong song sung.
  5. Upvote
    dayredeemer got a reaction from Aelis in Poetry Corner   
    [b]The Less[/b]

    we are the less
    without father, mother, sibling, child.
    we are not blessed,
    neither meek or mild.

    we are mustered
    by the evocation of memory
    at the ebony gates of our adversary.

    psycholgical scars run like fault lines
    through our gathered throng.
    our parched voices sing the changes:
    an ancient song in our mother tongue.

    for many a long year
    we have not known fear
    or loathing, now immersed
    in the updraft of terror's wings.

    all but the graves are gone
    our land is nought without nation.
    as the spirit has died
    we are twice tongue tied.

    we are the less.
    ------------------------------------------------------------------

    [b]My Impatient Rose[/b]

    my impatient rose
    you brush the sky
    too early with your chromatic face.
    now the Frost has you held in his embrace
    for a day and a night
    to your delight
    you flower for your new found love.

    how he cleaves
    to the bud within your leaves
    an upfront suitor,
    his charm an osmotic inversion.

    in an oxygenated form of devotion
    he weaves his crystal spell anew
    and you believe that this young love is due.

    and i believe it too.
    ----------------------------------------------------------------

    [b]Long Shadow[/b]

    Intrepidly, with unshod feet, i tread and i sink
    amidst the dunes, strewn with the shards of tallow lamps.
    Where once a thousand lights waxed and waned
    there are but the half-blind rays of a mid month moon
    to guide me from eroded cliffs to the broken shoreline.

    I leave no trail of white pebbles in my wake,
    nor unravel twine as i descend,
    the merciless power of time and tide I seek,
    to bleach out the long shadow of unrequited love
    and be remembered as a friend.


    [color="purple"]hehe, you're posting so many poems, it's great - Grido[/color]

    [color="blue"](blue good for you Lib?)~use edit button dont make double/triple posts, this is first verbal warning after this real ones will come in, thank you for understanding - Lib[/color]

    All Wonders Now Cease

    All wonders now cease, for me at least.
    Why? when the heart that wears upon my sleeve
    once swelled with passion enough for passing years.

    What strange change is this? what will replace
    the love I so tenaciously embraced?
    now revealed as nought but the dance of shadows ended.

    If I can meter the murmur of this day,
    allow the concrete to abrase my skin,
    will the sirens of the street sound within?

    The humbling language of the dispossessed.
    Without hierachy the hungry, homeless
    ask plaintively for food, shelter, happiness.

    An unbleached canvass painted black,
    depicting fractured beauty as if in a draining glass,
    charmed by the loose associations of the current not the past.

    All wonders now cease, for me at least.
    Why? because the heart cannot rest sure in dust,
    without delay I must explore the living to the last.

    Ailith

    In a dress of diaphanous grey
    she appears as mist upon the morn
    and the dew rich moss preserves
    each delicate virginal press
    of her dancing steps upon this earth.

    Touching the Southern breezes
    with her tresses of blonde,
    she teaches the sky to colour the world
    with the primary hue of cloudless blue.

    She is supple as the tobacco leaf
    as light as dry white cotton,
    a memory line of a million souls,
    she is the breaker of chains,
    the warmth of the rain.

    Her blood-beat is the toll of a liberty bell
    she is the heart of me.


    Winter

    Milk whitewater, drifting in
    know this man whose lifeblood hangs
    by a tumble of silken thread.

    He resides upon the swell,
    eyes wide open in blissful sleep,
    swimming with the grain unto the deep.

    Beside his bed, in sharp relief,
    his sister speaks with ambitious reach
    of a place between here and after.

    More recent friends who knew the pain
    are pleased to hold his hand again.
    Yet how soft and slowly now the love does flow.

    A nurses laughter from afar
    impinges like a seventh wave
    against his smack and salty seascape.

    This is closure, his final encounter
    with the human condition. He sees,
    smiles and breathes for all the world.


    Likening Myself

    My knees are worn from likening myself
    to a shadow torn from a dancer born of grace.
    Humoured by a steady hand to guide me
    I attempt to pirouette but rise and fall all at sea.

    My body habitually shaping itself
    to satisfy it's own amusements.
    I am liquid, sloshing behind my glassy eyes.
    A barn storming cleft hoofer. Surprise!

    Take a tumble or two with an old friend
    And we will knee tremble even as the music ends.



    Stumbling Block

    Allow my stumbling block to be your stepping stone.
    I believe you know I cannot swim.
    But you may rest upon my shoulders strong
    and I will reveal to you a new horizon.

    From this altitude your hands can signal smiles
    to the cobalt-blue cloudless sky. Why,
    You may allade to a future perfect partner
    who now seems to stand as magnificent as you.

    The crisp current of this stream affords me kindness,
    I remain but subtly changed again.
    Knowing that each passing pleasure has its place,
    I am worn gently to a smoother, more rounded plane.


    The Promise

    I am flawed, like beached quartz whose time has passed,
    A feather detached from a long flown bird,
    a breeze trapped in an impenetrable cave.

    I am misplaced, a mermaid's purse,
    Borne reluctantly upon Neptune's great wave.
    Not a word, but a whisper of a gypsy's curse.

    I am an irritant to nature, an uncultured pearl.
    Formed is my loneliness, farmed, smoked, cured,
    Brought to the brink of bitterness and then hurled.

    But! Not back into the briny drink,
    Nor to the arms of a paid embrace.
    No! Much worse is yet to be expressed,
    Recast in the plaster strappings of grief.

    To my domain where friendships lie scattered
    and one in particular is tweezered, encaptured.
    Without the measure of pain and pleasure
    I fetter, as fettered and tease at my leisure.

    I am the stone, deceptive of substance,
    absorbing Love's concepts, conceits and notions.
    I am the dead reef in the shallowest of oceans,
    Betrayed by this, the most complex of emotions.
  6. Upvote
    dayredeemer got a reaction from Tarquinus in Poetry Corner   
    [b]The Less[/b]

    we are the less
    without father, mother, sibling, child.
    we are not blessed,
    neither meek or mild.

    we are mustered
    by the evocation of memory
    at the ebony gates of our adversary.

    psycholgical scars run like fault lines
    through our gathered throng.
    our parched voices sing the changes:
    an ancient song in our mother tongue.

    for many a long year
    we have not known fear
    or loathing, now immersed
    in the updraft of terror's wings.

    all but the graves are gone
    our land is nought without nation.
    as the spirit has died
    we are twice tongue tied.

    we are the less.
    ------------------------------------------------------------------

    [b]My Impatient Rose[/b]

    my impatient rose
    you brush the sky
    too early with your chromatic face.
    now the Frost has you held in his embrace
    for a day and a night
    to your delight
    you flower for your new found love.

    how he cleaves
    to the bud within your leaves
    an upfront suitor,
    his charm an osmotic inversion.

    in an oxygenated form of devotion
    he weaves his crystal spell anew
    and you believe that this young love is due.

    and i believe it too.
    ----------------------------------------------------------------

    [b]Long Shadow[/b]

    Intrepidly, with unshod feet, i tread and i sink
    amidst the dunes, strewn with the shards of tallow lamps.
    Where once a thousand lights waxed and waned
    there are but the half-blind rays of a mid month moon
    to guide me from eroded cliffs to the broken shoreline.

    I leave no trail of white pebbles in my wake,
    nor unravel twine as i descend,
    the merciless power of time and tide I seek,
    to bleach out the long shadow of unrequited love
    and be remembered as a friend.


    [color="purple"]hehe, you're posting so many poems, it's great - Grido[/color]

    [color="blue"](blue good for you Lib?)~use edit button dont make double/triple posts, this is first verbal warning after this real ones will come in, thank you for understanding - Lib[/color]

    All Wonders Now Cease

    All wonders now cease, for me at least.
    Why? when the heart that wears upon my sleeve
    once swelled with passion enough for passing years.

    What strange change is this? what will replace
    the love I so tenaciously embraced?
    now revealed as nought but the dance of shadows ended.

    If I can meter the murmur of this day,
    allow the concrete to abrase my skin,
    will the sirens of the street sound within?

    The humbling language of the dispossessed.
    Without hierachy the hungry, homeless
    ask plaintively for food, shelter, happiness.

    An unbleached canvass painted black,
    depicting fractured beauty as if in a draining glass,
    charmed by the loose associations of the current not the past.

    All wonders now cease, for me at least.
    Why? because the heart cannot rest sure in dust,
    without delay I must explore the living to the last.

    Ailith

    In a dress of diaphanous grey
    she appears as mist upon the morn
    and the dew rich moss preserves
    each delicate virginal press
    of her dancing steps upon this earth.

    Touching the Southern breezes
    with her tresses of blonde,
    she teaches the sky to colour the world
    with the primary hue of cloudless blue.

    She is supple as the tobacco leaf
    as light as dry white cotton,
    a memory line of a million souls,
    she is the breaker of chains,
    the warmth of the rain.

    Her blood-beat is the toll of a liberty bell
    she is the heart of me.


    Winter

    Milk whitewater, drifting in
    know this man whose lifeblood hangs
    by a tumble of silken thread.

    He resides upon the swell,
    eyes wide open in blissful sleep,
    swimming with the grain unto the deep.

    Beside his bed, in sharp relief,
    his sister speaks with ambitious reach
    of a place between here and after.

    More recent friends who knew the pain
    are pleased to hold his hand again.
    Yet how soft and slowly now the love does flow.

    A nurses laughter from afar
    impinges like a seventh wave
    against his smack and salty seascape.

    This is closure, his final encounter
    with the human condition. He sees,
    smiles and breathes for all the world.


    Likening Myself

    My knees are worn from likening myself
    to a shadow torn from a dancer born of grace.
    Humoured by a steady hand to guide me
    I attempt to pirouette but rise and fall all at sea.

    My body habitually shaping itself
    to satisfy it's own amusements.
    I am liquid, sloshing behind my glassy eyes.
    A barn storming cleft hoofer. Surprise!

    Take a tumble or two with an old friend
    And we will knee tremble even as the music ends.



    Stumbling Block

    Allow my stumbling block to be your stepping stone.
    I believe you know I cannot swim.
    But you may rest upon my shoulders strong
    and I will reveal to you a new horizon.

    From this altitude your hands can signal smiles
    to the cobalt-blue cloudless sky. Why,
    You may allade to a future perfect partner
    who now seems to stand as magnificent as you.

    The crisp current of this stream affords me kindness,
    I remain but subtly changed again.
    Knowing that each passing pleasure has its place,
    I am worn gently to a smoother, more rounded plane.


    The Promise

    I am flawed, like beached quartz whose time has passed,
    A feather detached from a long flown bird,
    a breeze trapped in an impenetrable cave.

    I am misplaced, a mermaid's purse,
    Borne reluctantly upon Neptune's great wave.
    Not a word, but a whisper of a gypsy's curse.

    I am an irritant to nature, an uncultured pearl.
    Formed is my loneliness, farmed, smoked, cured,
    Brought to the brink of bitterness and then hurled.

    But! Not back into the briny drink,
    Nor to the arms of a paid embrace.
    No! Much worse is yet to be expressed,
    Recast in the plaster strappings of grief.

    To my domain where friendships lie scattered
    and one in particular is tweezered, encaptured.
    Without the measure of pain and pleasure
    I fetter, as fettered and tease at my leisure.

    I am the stone, deceptive of substance,
    absorbing Love's concepts, conceits and notions.
    I am the dead reef in the shallowest of oceans,
    Betrayed by this, the most complex of emotions.
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