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Status: In Progress  |  Genre: Poetry  |  House: Booksie Classic
It's a poem written in the various shades of imagination.

Submitted: October 09, 2018

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Submitted: October 09, 2018

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Eliot is

Decadent poetry …

Pound plucks

Apples and writes

Poems of imagism …

Romanticism….

You are a religion

For the soul …..

Bards wake up in

Dusk and pour

Metaphors …..

Poetry

You are

The fin de siècle

Gather a rhythm

And sing a

Song of solitude….

Love is surreal

Dreamy and poetic…

Sweet is passion

An ornament of

Delight

Poems are the

Tapestry of the

Spirit…

Sweeny

And the Nightingale

You are tarot of the

Eclipse….

The moon is

A pregnant belly….

Shadows of

Light fall gently

On the trees….

 Dylan left

Odes of beauty

Submerged

In the ethos of

Tropes ….

Solitude awaken

To art that rhymes

And rhythms a

Poetry of love ….

Plato, you are

A trope of forms ….

Aristotle, you

Made catharsis

A theory of art ….

Socrates, you

Are a martyr

Of poetry …..

Being is a mystery…

An existential

Unfolding of

Nothingness and

Thingness….

Archetypes,

You are Jung’s

Soulful creation…..

Persistence of memory

Is a haunted

embryo…

Clocks melt

and gather

Time in a

 Precious pouch…

Morning is a bard

On the wings

Of poetry…

Art flows

Through a

Timeless stream

Of words …. 

Kafka you have

Left mysteries

Of the novel

Written in art….

Life is an illusion

Of time ….

Decadence

Wither a life

Of words ….

 Beethoven

Poeticized

Words into

Melodies

Of art….

Bach

You are an

Ode of a piano,

Your fingers

Are musical flutes ….

Blues and Jazz

Float echoes

Of a cadence

And render the heart

To mirth of grace…

Walt Whitman

You laced

The leaves of grass

With tropes

That leaves the soul

In a catharsis of

Love…..

Wolf is a poetic

Trope…

Van Gogh

You soaked the

Canvass

With shades

Of impressionism….

 Will the soul

Live after death?

Death

You are the body’s

Hell.

Life, you

Are the seasons of

Love…

Poppy

You are an

Intoxicated trope…

Maurice Blanchot

You are stoic

Of prose….

Sartre

You are an ecclesia

Of atheism

Where is

The fountain of joy?

Life illuminate

A cathartic

Monument ….

Time

Don’t reason

With meaning

Passion is

The living

Life of joy.

Oasis

I have found

You in the desert

Of poetry…

Words, live the

Meanings of

Richness….

Heart of love,

You are a poetic

Splendor …

Passion glide

As wings up

To the heavens.

Nietzsche,

You tranquilized

Art into the

Dionysian rhythm

And the Apollonian

Grace and melody…

Art thy waves

Rush to the shore

And weave threads

Of passion…

Beauty is

A figure of speech …

Rhetoric

Live a life

Poignant and

Sensual …

The gaze—a

Poetic rapture

Of being …

The self

Is a marathon

Running a race

Of love….

Passion sink

Into the ocean’s

Depth and

Swim as

A mermaid of

Love…

What am I?

A fictional self …

I am the many

Women I have loved..

The places I’ve

Visited….

I am sculpted

Trope of flesh

And blood….

Woman—you

Have to be a

Passionate bed…

Adultery

You are a meaning

So profound…

 Life has a

Meaning to live…

Metaphors

Sculpt words

Into music …

 The soul is

An enigma

A mystic wonder

That is life in a

Psalm…

I am in love

With life….

I am in love

With words …

 I echo poems

From the springs of

Heart….

Camus you are

A bard of philosophy …

What is the elixir of

Life…

Nothing but the heart

Of meaning …

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


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