Poetry Potpourri

Their Lyrics Live On

This night, I pause to rest a weary pen,
Then close my eyes to dream of early days.
I gloom to see the likes of Yeats and Frost
Concealed amid free verses robed with praise.

A searing sadness grips my searching mind;
Their lines of rhyme antique to many seem.
Contemporary verse, composed in prose,
Has drowned the rhythmic lyrics I esteem.

I think, if truly honest I'm to be,
Today I see some works of true acclaim.
But I prefer the songs of Dunbar, Keats;
Their flowing forms, a candle's lambent flame.

I don't believe their songs have seen their day,
For even now their lilting words I breathe.
Those words within my heart still resonate;
Like roaring ocean waves, they start to seethe.

Write Your Dreams

Of what are you afraid this night;
A chambered room of doubt and fright?
Of thoughts you've lost in darkened halls,
A pen whose ink has taken flight?

Perhaps your muse has gone to sleep,
In search of dreams that it can reap,
Above a cove where oceans breathe,
And waves on sand then crash and weep.

A walk on fields where flowers smile,
As sunshine bathes them near the Nile.
In flight with birds as they sing songs,
While soaring high above each isle.

Or maybe stands as couples walk,
While sharing kisses as they talk;
Observing children while they play,
And scribbling names on top a rock.

In silence deep then close your eyes
To see yourself above the skies,
And spy the dreams you want to write,
When you decide your muse can rise.

Long Is A Poet's Night

Return, my muse, my voice give back,
For night has yet to settle down.
As sundown dims to shades of black,
My thoughts in fading ink now drown.

My fleeting words are barely there,
Unnoticed, lines that crave the light.
So please, my friend, see my despair,
And grant me words that I may write.

This darkness hides the world outside;
It veils my eyes so I can't see.
Rich colors daylight had supplied,
But now my words will not pour free.

Beside the window, dressed in black,
I sit, and frown, for night has won.
My coffee cools, my pen holds back,
My muse has left me, like the sun.

A Healing In The Woods

I pause, somewhat perplexed by what I feel,
An ache that has withdrawn to secret halls.
A chamber where my thoughts do not reveal
A saddened heart that cries behind old walls.

A final act has played as curtains fall,
And memories begin to slowly fade.
It seems that life has answered my last call
To grant me time before my grave is made.

From trees I hear the songs of morning birds,
Distracting me from musing years gone by.
Their lovely ballads are like healing words,
The type that balms and pain dares to defy.

These woods applaud my walk of beaming cheer,
For I at last have shed my one last tear.

Florence

From far away she slowly walks,
Her shrieks of anger rise and climb.
She rides the ocean as she stalks,
And traps the day in lightless time.

Across the vast expanse she goes,
Her windswept hair of clouds her crown.
Beyond her breath are cries of woes;
Her angry tears small islands drown.

She reaches land in darkened skies,
The trees all shake their heads in fear.
Undressed and scared as waters rise,
They start to moan, for death is near.

Blue Marble

Blue marble dancing with the beaming sun,
Your spin is swift, yet balanced in the void.
A crescent moon awaits the sun to run,
To show how much the dance it has enjoyed.

Your siblings envy your azurean gown,
For none of them your beauty can deny.
Majestic is the shawl of softest down
That soaks your ardent tears to wet the sky.

The smiling glare of falling dusk reveals
A symphony of hues that dye your gown.
Faint amber, gold and scarlet that appeals
To all that view the glory of your crown.

Sleep well, my charming lady, till the dawn,
Then dance again as all the stars look on.

Coffee And Cream

Some days, when dawn arrives anew,
And joyous birds begin to sing,
I sit and watch the blend of two,
Like rain with earth in early spring.

Their marriage is impressive too,
It hides a bitter, raven dye.
A merging sweetness fills my view,
Which makes me smile and softly sigh.

Their room elates with rising steam
As swirling blends the mating pair.
Hypnotic like the sweetest dream,
Their rich bouquet then fills the air.

Inviting me to share their joy,
The cup I lift to buds that scream.
My eyes are closed as I enjoy
A taste of coffee wed with cream.

Know Her Name

Beware of honeyed words that she inflicts
On hardy souls of men whose hearts she seeks.
Her scented body calls with luscious tricks,
And plays her songs of lust with shapely peaks.

Her name was known throughout the eras past,
Yet ever men on knees will bend to her;
Ignoring that her words a spell will cast,
They crave the brew of lust her hand will stir.

But know her name, to guard the heart from traps,
And crave the one whose soul to yours has bound.
For she will shower love and faithful acts,
Her mounds will offer warmth, sweet comfort found.

Temptation is her name, a dark allure,
So know her name, true love to then assure.

Bleu Cheese Blues

Oh moldy cheese, why do you tempt me so?
Why call at me with rancid bluish lines?
Your piquant bite makes my saliva flow;
Your texture my aversion undermines.

The raiment on your skin and scent belie
The finest taste the mouth can hope to dine.
Oh why lie to my eyes while my lips sigh,
For Bleu d’Auvergne to zest with finest wine.

The Stilton’s bluish veins all Britons prize,
And Gorgonzola shows Italian pride.
Delighting in these blues may seem unwise,
Until a piece defies the lips to slide.

Despite the color of its moldy skin,
I crave to taste your Roquefort’s pungent sting.
Its tangy taste will tempt my mouth to sin,
Averting eyes as taste buds start to sing.

The Snowy Storm

The snowy storm has slowed my drive
While heading home to my dear love.
The blinding squall my eyes deprive
Of sights of signs on posts above.

I'm lost in this dark night because
The snowy storm has slowed my drive.
Yet I press on without a pause;
I know the storm I will survive.

To my sweet love I will arrive,
To kiss her face and hold her tight.
The snowy storm has slowed my drive,
But I won't fail my love this night.

Ahead of me the road now clears;
A road I know; my hope alive.
And I can tell my love who cheers,
The snowy storm has slowed my drive.

Death's Deceit

The waves of time in haste lap at my feet,
As rising tides submerge my years of life.
Now death demands my breath in its deceit,
With fervent lies it seeks to cause me strife.

My youthful vigor time has cast aside,
And serves me only flashes of the past.
Reflections I hold dear with joyful pride,
Death seeks to wipe away from me at last.

But I will not go down while losing hope!
For love calls out to me yet once again.
The ember in her heart has burned the rope
Which had me fearing death's unholy reign.

True love will break the spell that death has cast;
The waves of time don't fear, to life hold fast.

Near To Death

Face to face with death last night,
Ravens watched while still in flight.
Voices shrilled, "do quake with fear,
Death has come, your end is near."

Night withdrew when dawn arrived,
Flight of death, and I survived.
Fear then howled an angry scream;
Near to death . . . or just a dream?

Darkened Soul

I am what nightly haunts your dreams,
The nights of tears and drenching sweat.
I'm lurking while you cry in streams,
Until the dawn red eyes reset.

I am the ache behind the mask,
What others fail to see in you.
The grief behind your heavy casque,
While smiles you paint to hide your blue.

I am the scar that mars your heart,
That drowns the hope for which you reach.
The voice you hear when bad dreams start,
When nightmares strive your sleep to breach.

I am depression, darkened soul,
Your one companion while you cry.
I'm not your friend, I have a goal,
To steal your light, until you die.

Shades of Gray

My mind in darkness walks alone,
No friend to talk to as I groan;
No words to spur my weakened legs,
No hands to lift my arms of stone.

My eyes are drawn to shades of gray,
No colors, tints, but hues of clay;
No rainbow arch after the rain,
No crimson lips with which to play.

My heart is weak, but wants to fight,
To fend despair and leave this night;
To see tomorrow's dawn arrive,
And kiss a day of colors bright.

The Lonesome Trail

One cold and snowy day, when I was sad,
My friend and I had hiked a lonesome trail.
Deep silence had embraced us as we walked,
Until my lips allowed a soft exhale.

We shared our thoughts as winter listened in;
I sought to find the answers as she danced.
My friend then said to me to stay the path,
That faith is stronger when with love enhanced.

My heavy, saddened heart rejoiced again,
And thankful I then was to this dear friend;
He always has been there to clear my mind,
With healing words to help my heart to mend.

I took a glancing look at where we’d walked,
But found my steps alone had kissed the snow.
A knowing smile began to part my lips,
As winter hid my steps while dancing slow.

A Poet's Plight

O silent soul, your muse abandoned you;
Your words begin to fade in this long night.
Your thoughts are there, but won't come into view;
Denied of light, you struggle to gain sight.

Despair has wrapped its arms around your mind,
And steals the lines your hand wants to compose.
Ensnared within a grip that keeps you blind,
You battle to set free your wondrous prose.

Imagine then, by using your mind's eyes,
Delightful scenes that life has set for you.
Recalling days when words from you would rise,
When life displayed the paintings you most knew.

On quiet nights, when words won't flow as planned,
Allow your life to deftly guide your hand.

A Voice In The Night

When night had set in quiet darkened gray,
He sat upon his bed in startled stare,
For he had heard a voice, a ghastly bray,
Which kept his mind awake in great despair.

He knows not where the voice is in the room,
But feels the words from lips his soul debase.
With burning ears his mind hears words of doom,
Which cause his heart to run a frightful race.

The voice derides his mind with taunting clack,
In fright his eyes engage to find the groan.
He comes upon the mirror staring back,
And sees his lips then move, the voice his own.

Pawn

You sneering king atop this lofty ground,
Your army waits to hear your battle cry.
The rooks and queen with strength my pawns astound,
While knights dare tread where bishops fight and die.

The battle rages on, your lines advance;
I hear the snorts of horses close to me.
The end seems near despite my bravest stance,
While you behind your queen now start to flee.

But there where you take rest, my pawn has reached,
And thrusts his silver lance aside your queen.
You howl and see that your lines have been breached;
A pawn has aimed a blow that was unseen.

Your prideful laugh has ended at his hand;
A lowly pawn now mates you where you stand.

Precious Life

Life, unseen, wends a lengthy hall;
It reaches home, behind a wall.
This home, designed to carry life,
Then wraps the gift in a soft shawl.

This gift, a child that thrives within,
On mother's face a smile will pin.
When life inside she starts to feel,
Her heart this precious child will win.

No sacrifice will be too great,
No pain will make her love abate.
Not darkness, sadness, nor despair,
Will keep her from her joyous fate.

She will embrace this growing soul,
Her greatest love will be her goal.
And when at last the child is born,
This precious life, will make her whole.

Puerto Rican Child

The island, Puerto Rico, my sweet home,
Where happy children played with homemade toys,
And ripened mangoes layered smiling lips.
What joyous time for wide-eyed girls and boys!

Our humble house on sturdy stilts was built,
To face the rising floods the rains would bring.
But into brownish waters I would swim,
Not knowing yet of nature's brutal sting.

The stiffened wind would sail my flying kite,
As chicks and ducks had eyed my widened smile.
It seemed they feared that I would fly away,
And meet the kite to play above the isle.

And after play when hungry I would be,
The fruiting trees would samples to me give.
Delightful songs from mother I would hear,
A call to home, in dreams I still relive.

Life's Chapters

Life is a book of many chapters;
Some relate stories of a happy childhood,
Playgrounds, ice cream trucks, and friends,
While others of awkward teenage crushes
When love is but a passing mist.

Yet others tell of unshackled pain
Expressed by sad and broken hearts,
When words on paper are unchained,
And tears of ink then bleed like cuts.

But there are also chapters of true love,
Where hearts entwine and merge as one,
And the words 'lived happily ever after'
A wonderful reality becomes.

Which chapter should I turn to tonight?

The Unknown Path

The early morning fog clouds his vision,
Yet he can make out her outline
Within the shroud of the heavy mist.
Her divine figure entices him to join her,
While she signals with a finger to follow.

He is hesitant to traverse this unknown path,
But her smile, like a beacon welcoming
Weary seafarers, seduces his senses,
And so he complies with her request.

In what seems like hours, he follows her,
His heart craving the delights she promises.
So blinded is he in his singular pursuit,
He does not notice their space never narrows.

Then in the distance he hears the familiar
Wails of a siren, warning him to return.
But he already knows it is too late,
For he is now lost in his dream.

When Eyes Seal Shut

When night sore eyes with darkness veils,
Hope enters halls where dreams are born;
Endearing sights the mind replays,
Naively seeking life once torn.

Entreating songs the lips intone,
Yet words will only wounds incite;
Endemic to all darkened dreams,
Seduction taunts sad hearts at night.

Soon darkness sleeps and signals dawn,
Erasing plays no one recalls;
Afraid of grief that pains the soul,
Love quests to flee these dreary halls.

So strive to find your way back home,
Help heal a soul that cries in pain;
Upend the past, invite true love,
Take heart and seek new life to gain.

Words In A Poet's Heart

A poet's heart is like a singing room,
Where verse and joy can meet and songs compose.
A pen records what fills the poet's mind,
But then at times a wall his words oppose.

The dreams to paint on paper slowly fade,
And sadly dried of ink remains the quill.
So strong the craving to record the dreams,
The poet prays a story to instill.

Yet like a river's water running deep,
That flows unhindered to the waiting sea,
The poet seeks to break the wall which hides
The lyrics that the heart craves to set free.

And so the poet peers the world around,
Where wonders then inspire odes from above.
Delightful are the words the heart recites,
And soon the pen to paper makes sweet love.

Web of Lies

Much too often a lie becomes truth in
The minds of those spinning the web.
False words and contrived emotions
Are laced with unfeeling acid tears.
This is their clothing, spun from lies,
To shape the true feelings of another;
To sate their own cowardly notion
Of what is right and what is wrong.
But in reality their lies quickly unravel
When faced with a stand from the strong.
It is their own web that holds them captive,
Yet too blind they are to see this truth.

Reflection

The old man examines the youngster staring
back at him; his innocence is striking.
A gentle smile adorns his cherubic face,
this child, without pain in his heart.

Not having experienced the scars of life,
he seems contented, happy that his world
is whole, where nothing is missing.

The old man so wishes to counsel him,
to offer instructions to guide this child;
to be a shining light on the precarious
road ahead.

Yet, he is powerless to help; to show the
child the pits he should avoid, and the
lessons he should treasure; the friends
he should keep, and those he should leave
behind; to reveal the times he will fall
in love, and the times his heart will be
torn asunder.

He wants to extend a sheltering hand,
to offer the wisdom that comes with
tested age; but he is unable to do so.

They share a knowing smile as tears well
in the old man's eyes.

Overwhelmed by sadness, aware they have
to part, their hands reach out, and their
fingers touch; he then bids the child goodbye,
and walks away from the mirror.

Angel L Villanueva

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