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Elixir

My effervescent mind collides with water
To bring an elixir of love and wine.
This ephemeral life is evocative of heavenly plains,
Fetching plains, pretty plains of pure design.

The desultory movements of demons dissembled Man,
His mind was caused to be in leisure, in lilting.
Each of us are lithe and flexible too much,
That fat devils try to counteract our lissom bodies.

Good has a nemesis, good looks opulent,
Lush souls speak good, but dirty ones sound evil.
The real elixir travels to eternal Paradise,
Strong love happens to be quintessential.

poem by Naveed Akram
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Fall Drama

Like myriad jewels October comes
Topaz and flaming red
The length and breadth of slopes
And canyons of the White Mountains.
Rays of morning sun glint scarlet-gold,
Leaves glow in dew-damp air,
Give promise of never-ending loveliness.
O opulent October,
You give us one last show before
November winds ravage leaf and limb
And all your red-gold harvest lies
In heaps upon the ground.
O, October, how can we feel gladness
Beguided by your pageantry...
When trees stand bare and mute,
We wil remember your grand performance
Was but the prelude to a death-like sleep.

poem by Florence Weber Mann
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Evil Woman

Using her guile to her advantage...
Playing a much younger part-
Many believe her yo be but maybe 38-
When she is truly 57 at heart;
Dressing in younger fashions-
She makes her statement in designer wear-
Spending a fortune that they do not have
Opulent, no, their cupboards are near bare;
It's all in her drive to create an image...
Affected with airs of sophistication and charm
Tipping her fedora at you..
But with aims to do you harm;
Watch out-she'll come for you..
Any man who seems to be free...
She will work you with her unsteady compass-
The same way that she played me;

poem by Theodora Onken
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On Seeing The Diabutsu--At Kamakura, Japan

Long have I searched, Cathedral shrine, and hall,
To find a symbol, from the hand of art,
That gave the full expression (not a part)
Of that ecstatic peace which follows all
Life's pain and passion. Strange it should befall
This outer emblem of the inner heart
Was waiting far beyond the great world's mart-
Immortal answer, to the mortal call.

Unknown the artist, vaguely known his creed:
But the bronze wonder of his work sufficed
To lift me to the heights his faith had trod.
For one rich moment, opulent indeed,
I walked with Krishna, Buddha, and the Christ,
And felt the full serenity of God.

poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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The Squanderer

God gave him passions, splendid as the sun,
Meant for the lordliest purposes; a part
Of nature's full and fertile mother heart,
From which new systems and new stars are spun.
And now, behold, behold, what he has done!
In Folly's court and carnal Pleasures' mart
He flung the wealth life gave him at the start.
(This, of all mortal sins, the deadliest one.)

At dawn he stood, potential, opulent,
With virile manhood, and emotions keen,
And wonderful with God's creative fire.
At noon he stands, with Love's large fortune spent
In petty traffic, unproductive, mean-
A pauper, cursed with impotent desire.

poem by Ella Wheeler Wilcox
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Rainbow

Raindrops sparkle any day
Look up the sky for a ray

You may find a rainbow
Enjoy the pleasant Nature's color show

First is Robust Red
Put some jam on your bread

Second is Opulent Orange
Time to have a glass of Tangy orange

Third is Yearning Yellow
Place your books in a row

Fourth is Gracious Green
It comes exactly in-between
Ask your friend 'how have you been? '

Fifth is Beautiful Blue

[...] Read more

poem by Manjeshwari P MYSORE
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Honour Dishonoured

Honoured I lived e'erwhile with honoured men
In opulent state. My table nightly spread
Found guests of worth, peer, priest and citizen,
And poet crowned, and beauty garlanded.
Nor these alone, for hunger too I fed,
And many a lean tramp and sad Magdalen
Passed from my doors less hard for sake of bread.
Whom grudged I ever purse or hand or pen?

To--night, unwelcomed at these gates of woe
I stand with churls, and there is none to greet
My weariness with smile or courtly show
Nor, though I hunger long, to bring me meat.
God! what a little accident of gold
Fences our weakness from the wolves of old!

poem by Wilfrid Scawen Blunt
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The Touch Of Time

Time, who with soft pale ashes veils the brand
Of many a hope that flared against the sky
To plant its heaven-storming banners high,
Has touched you with no desecrating hand;
Your beauty wins a ripeness sweet and bland
As opulent summer, and your glancing eye
Glows with a deeper lustre, and your sigh
Of love is still my clamouring heart's command.

Yet what if all your fairness were defaced,
Wilted by passionate whirlwinds, battle-scarred,
Your skin of delicate satin hard and dry?
Still you would be the laughing girl who graced
A gloomy manhood, by forebodings marred,
In the deep wood where still we love to lie.

poem by John Le Gay Brereton
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Gone

Maybe passion is just an ideal
Chandelier of sleep
The base never moves
Cluster of topaz dreams
Giving the tree of life
Always heading past death
Freedom cleaves to letting go
We see nothing in vanity
We are all alone
Artists of dalliance
Gallant ships of another s perception
Unimpressed fallen Bordeaux
Ubiquitous trivia
Defined by stained glass tears
Tragedy salvages the sequin mask
You are Verdun
We are trenches of the rainy night
Bury the opulent dead
They have come to our wedding
The other side looks on

[...] Read more

poem by Joseph Narusiewicz
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Hope

All treasures of the earth and opulent seas,
Metals and odorous woods and cunning gold,
Fowls of the air and furry beasts untold,
Vineyards and harvest fields and fruitful trees
Nature gave unto Man; and last her keys
Vouched passage to her secret ways of old
Whence knowledge should be wrung, nay power to mould
Out of the rough, his occult destinies.

But tired of these he craved a wider scope:
Then fair as Pallas from the brain of Jove
From his deep wish there sprang, full-armed, to cope
With all life's ills, even very death in love,
The only thing man never wearies of--
His own creation--visionary Hope.

poem by Mathilde Blind
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