Melancholia in D Minor

Charmed Chaos

In his hands an ebony melancholia violin
and a forlorn bow with delicacy, captivates 
as it pierces my heart with indigo blue notes
seeking sweet solace, their place of rest
bleeding into the deepest part of my soul
where brassy trumpets never blare or shine
and wistful harpsichord’s music is forever rising
like a lonesome moon in the blackest of nights.

Real Toads: http://withrealtoads.blogspot.com/2019/01/weekend-mini-challenge-sarcastic.html

Poets United: http://poetryblogroll.blogspot.com/2019/01/poetry-pantry-437.html

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Abstract

Charmed Chaos

A silvered sheaf of moonlight
spills through the barren trees
dancing across the forest floor
calypso leaves dressed in finest hues
–Moonlight orchestra–
Abstract haunting melodies
in shades of persimmon
bronze- fire- amber harmonizing
as they howl to the wolf blood moon

Real Toads: http://withrealtoads.blogspot.com/2019/01/weekend-mini-challenge-mustnt-be-fancy.html

Poets United: http://poetryblogroll.blogspot.com/2019/01/the-poetry-pantry-436.html

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Third Eye Open

Charmed Chaos

Martin Guderna

At first it was to ease the pain, to pen the words that soothed
to write what I was afraid to say to spill my angst onto the page.
And then it became a hungry need, a powerful elixir to feed
my soul, to offer others hope beyond the worldly greed

As I searched for proper words a blessed miracle occurred,
I began to breathe the tiny details of this amazing planet earth
a fragile skimmer dragonfly, the lilting songs of the mockingbird
as I while away the hours watching a new butterfly emerge
I’ve had an epiphany, my third eye open, a spectacular rebirth

Now it is all this that sets my gypsy heart soaring free,
giving of words to humanity, for at last I am being
the truest person I was always meant to be
for if not today, not now… then when?

Imaginary Garden with…

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The three am prayer…

johncoyote

The 3 am prayer….
The dance hall closed down at 2 am in Belton, Texas. He would go to the Belton Lake, drink the Jack Daniel and howl at the moon. Maybe he was half crazy, maybe he descended to his self-made hell.
Dead brothers made me join a war to dance with death and kind death told me. Not yet dear Poet. The paradox of the running man escaping to no-where.

Is one day, he shall find his silence. Be alone.

Crazy soldier sat alone singing on the sand to the Texas half-moon. It was hot as Hell, and he walked into the warm lake. He laughed at the stars, and he told them. Another foolish man doing the 3 am prayer. Praying for better days, praying for a better place to be. Praying for a lady, so damn gone.

The whiskey was losing the edge and he drank…

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Beautiful Delia…

johncoyote

Delia

A Poem by Coyote Poetry
"Beautiful Delia is dancing alone somewhere."

(The name Delia is of Greek origin. The meaning of Delia is “visible”. It is also of English origin, where its meaning is “of Delos“. Delia is generally used as a girl’s name.)

Delia…

I was dancing with the Devil every night in the Winter of 1992 and hiding out in the Austin, Texas taverns.
The happy hours Long Island ice teas made my pen come alive. I was waiting for no-one, and no-one was waiting for me.

I wrote to my journal, love dead, cannot be revived. Love sweet become bitter wine. I feel a gentle touch on my shoulder and a dark eyes girl took my journal and she read my words. She smiled and she laughed. She told me. You damn poets love misery and the whiskey. You need the damn wars, and…

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