my heart's adrift in petals, flower-framed
while feelings fruit as cultivars unnamed,
the hue symbolic, brighter than the sun
and pure as muted pastels do not run
oh, do not run from me, dear unashamed,
hold not the thorns that leave the hand inflamed
but by the budding let your hand be claimed
by one whose promised bloom is just begun
whose heart's adrift in petals, flower-framed
and even counting all the ways proclaimed
in petals and in poems fair and famed
these fade when plucked, their lives all dead and done
their colors run and all is dyed in dun
we'll live for longer, hear what I proclaimed
for hearts adrift in petals, flower-framed
Can (Morning Mail)
can the tender mercies come to one
who rebuffs and repels all that come
will it come in the morning mail
along with the junk and envelopes
if so will I recognize it
or simply discard it
I know not the answers
but enjoy the questions
Whose princely air proudly
Passed the sea in freefalls,
Who sought peace, sword flaming,
Striking words like forgefalls,
Pride of Berk, battleworn,
Breathing life where strife falls,
Prized by Líf in prayer:
Their pressed lips, blessed footfalls.
Sadie plays with her dolls, but her dolls cannot talk.
She plays with her dolls, but they cannot walk.
Sadie plays with her dolls, but they cannot see.
She plays with her dolls, but they cannot breathe.
Sadie plays with her dolls, but they cannot sit.
She plays with her dolls whom cannot live.
Sadie plays with her dolls, but what is this all around
Liquid red like her hair; it clots without sound.
Now Sadie plays with her dolls, but they are not whole.
She does not know dismemberment of the blackened soul.
Now Sadie is a bright young girl who sees this as a game,
Though what she does not know is she plays with its shame.
And Sadie's dolls loo
Some tempests brew behind clouds of shame
And stormy skies precede mortal rain,
And of summer, who has greater claim?
Them who faced every season of pain?
Perhaps those weary of grief or snow:
Icing of the Earth, in joy, in woe,
Sunshine is then praised in colder lands
Soft warmth pleases both; our hearts and hands.
And two lovers on a wintry day
Will never be charmed by comely spring,
And winter can color with brilliant gray
A silence where the larks used to sing.
We know not that we paint the skies
With elements of our own device,
We muse upon our lives to find
Climate is the weather of the mind.
You held my head up, always free
And eyes of fire alight with love
Held forth the truth in fall, for me.
The leaves burst red light heavenly,
Which filtered through the boughs above.
You held my head up, always free.
Embraced in essence of the sea,
The tenderness like waves, though rough,
Held forth the truth in fall, for me.
My wings awake to hues like these
And cold, clear air is life enough:
You held my head up, always free.
In fall, like this, my devotee,
While night fell round us like a glove,
Held forth the truth in fall, for me.
I fell to kisses, night, and thee:
Nor shall I lose what we're made of.
You held my head
Yeah I'm Stupid!:
Indeed you are absolutely superior. A divine being, more intelligent,
Learned and completely right in everything you say about me.
However, if I might be permitted to as they say in slang
"Drop the beat", then I'd like to show you my own style of doing things.
Art thou ready for this my sibling from a different parent?
-
Sir can I have just a moment of your time? I think I lost
My will, let me sit and bust a rhyme rappin' like I'm
Edgar Allan singin' Raven songs, thank god I have a
life and love that keeps me really strong. See I
Understand the fact that you may not like the things I do,
Str
I play your part
and you play mine,
We dissolve in each other
like a rhythm divine
You be in my heart
and i be in your mind
I be yours and
you be mine.
I am so tired,
But I cannot sleep,
I wish to cry,
But I do not weep,
I am hungry,
But food won't come,
I wish to leave,
But I can't run.
I am trapped,
In a world so free,
I hate myself,
For being me,
Can't help but wish,
For no more pain,
For lifeless loss,
and dead man's gain.
Does it count as structured if it's a form that I appear to have largely pulled out of thin air?
I ask because I once wrote a Petrarchan Sonnet that seemed to prefer to be Sprung verse, rather than hendecasyllabics. Or perhaps I couldn't make it stick. Either way, it would be a stretch to say that I managed even that much, and am currently looking back at it to see if I can do anything else with the structure (Sprung Petrachan Sonnent). Would I be able to submit any results here?
... Of what you've thus written, I recognise the following: "the". ... Okay, and "Petrarchan". But considering that you have knowledge of such things as "sprung verse" and threw down the word "hendecasyllabics" without hesitation, I will trust that your submissions will be perfectly acceptable, if not quite assuredly more than so.
If a piece of yours is declined, it does not appear to be structured at all or is only partly structured and otherwise unstructured. This is, after all, a group for fixed form poetry. There are times, however, that I may mistake a piece as being unstructured, especially if it doesn't rhyme (i.e. blank verse). If that is the case, then notify me of such, re-submit, and I'll gladly accept the piece. Submissions to this group simply have to fit what the group is all about, though!
li1121, that happened again - the group doesn't accept my addings even my works have bith rhyme and rhythm. Really, I don't understand whether you read the poems attentively before making a decidion? It seems to me strange when I see that some blank verse type poems join the folders in the group but good works written specially for it don't.
Seclusion of Stars doesn't consistently rhyme and doesn't have a recognisable metre, so I can't say that's structured. Blank verse is a structure based on metre.