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Festivals of LifeI remember those summer nights
when we danced like mirthful angels
under the clear, starry skies
that expanded across the land.

And the colors burned so bright
like an ancient tribal fire.
Skirts swayed in the glory light
with lipstick shades of red.

And I could hear the wolves cry
like a melody in the distance.
The taste of mild salsa spice
lingered forever on my tongue.

And I will never forget those nights
when the wild world around us
was nothing but a beautiful sight
under a lantern-lit ocean.

Flood of Hope~ Nothing quite compares
to the beauty of the rain
that crowns me in hope
and carries me away
into another world
where I feel so free
from this broken land
and haunted jubilees.
In the dreary night,
I can hear them sing
of the trifling rain
that this nature brings
and it makes me mad
knowing that they rebuke
this lovely thing called rain
that serves as my refuge.
Under it's healing touch,
my soul is at eternal ease.
Scars of shame disappear
like black holes in the galaxy.
Since my darkness fell
to the power of the rain,
everything is brighter within
and I've never been the same. ~

Spring RevivalAmong the stormy cerulean sky,
the taste of blossoms linger high.

Pedals stain the depleted ground,
awakening nature all around.

Songs are carried in the breeze,
the warmth of heaven's melodies.

"Gone is the era of numbing pain,
now comes the season of blissful rain."

Sorry is the hardest word ...Sorry was the hardest word for you
You never knew how to put it in the use
Being harsh, angry and absolutely rude
That was you, that's all you actually knew

You've changed a lot and so did I
But my memories are still quiet clear
I still remember all of your stupid lies
And all of those things you did to me

I let you go long time ago
And left my pain somewhere behind
I locked securely my tired soul
Trying to forget your deceiving eyes

And here you are standing right next to me
So real but yet too distant to believe
Time seem to slow down as I start to fall apart
Cause you're like an old drug for my thirsty heart

It was only few seconds,

Lest We Let the LightLest we let the light burn out
and ignite a hopeless soul,
for it's that candle flickering
that drives out the trembling cold.

From the days of broken knights
to the perils of today,
it's the kiss of golden light
that brings all of war to bay.

And should we let that fire die,
we'd surely lose our path,
for it's the luminous spark
that guides us in the aftermath.

Yes, without a hint of moonlight,
our hearts would be too faint,
as it's the simple glow a flarin'
that mends every ounce of pain.

Lest we let the light burn out
and ignite a hopeless soul,
for if we allow it to shed away,
we'd surrender our faith to fools

Quietly, GentlyShy smiles and fluttering butterflies,
My heart would beat faster when I looked into your eyes.
Even then, as I held you warmly in my arms,
Every word you said put me under your charm.
Dozing off, I sent you a little smile.
And told you that it’s fine to fall asleep for a while.

When you awoke, the sun was setting for its own time to sleep.
So I pulled you close and breathed in so deep.
Quietly, in the dark, I slowly fell in love.
Gently in my arms, I called you my little dove.

MemoriaA battle they don’t see
The war of memory
The struggle to suppress
These seconds of duress

Along with these moments
Longing for lost enchantments
Wishing to forget
To get lost in the net

Then this tale could fade
Slip into a dark shade
Giving us another chance
Another try at our dance

If memory was merciful
We would simply forget
And if time was remorseful
Regret and hope could offset

We could get lost in the glory
We could live another story
Without painful memory
Connecting you to me

ShatterLife is like a glass
Weakening over the years,
Being battered by storms
Until one day, it breaks.

Some are broken relatively quickly
Whether by accident
Or by-
Other events.

Mine has been cracked
and is slowly turning to dust...

Here I am.
This rope strangling my neck ever so gently
Like a lover's caress
Freedom for my weary spirit is only a step away
This is the last time.

Shatter.

Heart Break!Exquisite
Pain, at the pulse of life
Oh! Brittle tremors
Within this heart of glass
Breath held, it just might break.

2012 Delice1941
23rd April2012

Gallows of the EyeHow loud the shouts and whispers,
Echoing on from invisible tongues.
As melodies sing like acid vapors,
Oh, the profanity has begun.

To storms it is not comparable,
Thunders become a mother’s song.
Even nightmares turn to lullabies,
And monsters leaving on their own.

Coming forth with a hunter’s crouch,
Lying in wait in the darkness’ shade.
Only not in the corners of your room,
But there instead in your guarded mind.

Fight it with fire all you like,
Stare it down with all your might.
The more you purge the more it feeds,
A war that’s won with stronger greed.

One goal crowns its lonely wake,
A feeble little soul liv

25/04/2013 2:35 AM.25/04/2013 2:35 AM.

I didn’t get the chance to say good night to her before bed.
Instead when I finished writing I planted one on her forehead.
She shudders under the covers and smothers towards me.
The blind smile on her face shows me that she really adorns me.
I place my cheek on her cheek
And my hand on her sleek physique.
My other rests on her chest to feel her heart beat.
She clasps her lips and thrusts her arm over me
As I begin thinking this feels like how it is supposed to be
And how this girl can still inspire me to write poetry.
I lean closer to stare into her fluttering eye lids.
Imagining an occupied hand crafted crib i

My AmbitionsMy Ambitions.

People tell me I have talent.
And my attempts at poetry are noble and valiant.

I want my words to leave a mark on this earth.
I write for myself, to give me some sort of worth.

I still think anyone is capable doing I what I do.
Paint the same or an even better image of the one I just drew.

I've been accepted by a few, but rejected by many.
This life is perpetual and the strain is getting heavy.

I write for you, as well as for me.
I write from my heart, to set my mind free.

A man who writes poetry isn't the epitome of masculinity.
I had to disregard the stereotype and over come the humility.

My writing is all I have

Ode to Spock

From a distant star you traveled,
from beyond our Milky Way.
Humanity felt imperiled,
but peace was the Vulcan way.

We never could understand you,
that face without expression.
Thus, you suffered so many fools,
and taught us all a lesson.

The differences that separate,
move some to hate and revile.
But the bond made was not too late,
we loved you, if but a while.

Now we thank you for your wisdom,
may we ne'er forget your name.
Ecelectic will be the kingdom,
may you always remain the same.

Island of BlissAmbrosial waves crash upon a shore
with the hue of a burning golden sun.
Fuschia leis are set out to drift away
and fill the ancient spirit in my lungs.

The taste of a thriving exotic world
is captured within watermelon ice;
candy worn upon my softening lips
to whisper the melodies of the night.

And I wonder if this beautiful place
with hidden huts and animistic trees,
could be the kind of mesmerizing site
for such a paradise lover as me.

The emblems of life laying everywhere,
persuades me to waver with the sound
of anything that this nature may bring
from the tropic island all around.

THE STARS SHALL NOT DIEIn reverie fashion I stood on the precipise
where Dreams unclothed the Dreamer they met,
spilling unborn timelessness I wept for them
-until my tears glistened with the magic that
crested my blood, the hum of hands, lips lusting
to drink from the Cosmos windswept and weeping,
I removed my everyday clothes and clad myself
in a gossamer gaze as I felt my mortality quiver
from me-into the primevel bliss seeding the
universe with supernatural ability and fables
not so arcane, the Night beckoned me with her
unsheathed Sword of Stars pointing to the
constellation spining within my moony breast,
I could feel her prying me open...this urn
where the m

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More from *SereneCyrene

Poetry For MePoetry for me, is more than words
and rhythms that fill the night sky.
It's a vital light that comforts me
when life has become too murky.
It's a friend that heeds my calls
of anger and hurt buried within.
It's sending messages to God
when I feel so distant from him.
Poetry is undoubtedly everything
to my staggering heart - a form
of self-expression when I think
I'm beginning to lose my being;
my own creative world in which
I have some sense of control.
Poetry for me, is a hint of hope
that never ceases to entice me.

It's that voice that whispers,
"I understand," no matter how
beautifully disorganized we are.

Spirited WatersIf the oceans could sing
about deep eternal bliss,
then I think they'd bring
a sweet melody of this...
a symphony of our love
through the thick and thin,
a chorus from high above
that joins our hearts within.
We may be apart for now,
but there's something more
that the universe holds true,
a sentiment worth waiting for.
So forget the pain my dear,
for all the oceans still ring
with the hopeful harmony
that someday they might sing.

Spring MirageSpring commences as a mere illusion,
a season that simply balances between
the arctic realm of stain-glassed angels
and the blazing domain of Indian spirits.

It's an impressionist mural of floral fields,
intermingled plots of tulips and babies breath
that bow gently under the cobalt atmosphere,
amongst the dim fluorescent heavens.

It's an oil-covered canvas of April showers,
splashes of muddy rain puddles and clouds
that result in several bright colored umbrellas
and shoes fleeting to the nearest shelter.

It's a term in which all things are hoped for,
the brushes of warmth and coolness together,
the sight of budding cherry blos

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Endless Sparks

by *SereneCyrene, Feb 24, 2013, 7:35:16 AM
Literature / Poetry / Spiritual / Traditional Fixed Forms

Is this what it means to be inspired,
to envision a world in romantic light?
I've always been a youth of my dreams,
discovering bliss in every story I write.

Is this what it means to be entranced,
to find magic in a single vintage page
as I roam all of these beautiful realms
inside an athenaeum of an ancient age?

Is this what it means to be breathless,
to be taken by the aura of sweet pear?
Here traces of succulents linger about
like figments of Eden everywhere.

I suppose this is what it truly means
to feel the power of deep inspiration.
And now I see, it's the smallest of things
that awaken my joyful sensations.

154

18 8 2

Endless Sparksby *SereneCyrene

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Hey everyone

So it took me a while to figure out exactly how I want to pursue this poem. But I hope you enjoy. Feedback is always appreciated.

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*Gary-thedreamingpoet Mar 1, 2013 Professional Writer

Beautiful my fellow poet

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*SereneCyrene Mar 1, 2013 Student General Artist

Thanks Gary.

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Mood: Love

~mohmmedamar87 Feb 26, 2013

greaaaaaaat

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*SereneCyrene Feb 26, 2013 Student General Artist

Haha, thank you.

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~EmilyJanus Feb 25, 2013 Hobbyist Writer

Awesome!

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*SereneCyrene Feb 25, 2013 Student General Artist

Thanks!

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=Tory-Steller Feb 24, 2013 Hobbyist Writer

I've always thought there was nothing sweeter than having a blank canvas and inspiration, and this poem reminds me of the feeling I get when I'm about to embark on another imaginative journey. Well done!

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*SereneCyrene Feb 24, 2013 Student General Artist

Thank you! That's exactly what I was aiming for in this poem.

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