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One of the ancients,once said that poetry is "the mirror of the perfect soul." Instead of simply writing down travel notes or, not really thinking about the consequences, expressing your thoughts, memories or on paper, the poetic soul needs to seriously work hard to clothe the perfect content in an even more perfect poetic form.
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Reading books RomanceThe unity of form and content is what distinguishes poetry from other areas of creativity. However, this is precisely what titanic work implies.
Not every citizen can become a poet. If almost every one of us, at different times, under the influence of certain reasons or trends, was engaged in writing his thoughts, then it is unlikely that the vast majority will be able to admit to themselves that they are a poet.
Genre of poetry touches such strings in the human soul, the existence of which a person either didn’t suspect, or lowered them to the very bottom, intending to give them delight.


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Read books online » Poetry » Gems by Gabrielle Bryant-Gainer (chrysanthemum read aloud txt) 📖

Book online «Gems by Gabrielle Bryant-Gainer (chrysanthemum read aloud txt) 📖». Author Gabrielle Bryant-Gainer



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their heads
With blood soaked knees and hearts of lead
She'd heal them of their afflictions
Bringing out joy from the lost and weary.
We'll soon find ourselves praying
They're carving out crucifixes in the evening
A history sleeps in the trees--but we're all still alive
As our faces fall, in low circles haul
The cross was made of pine


We haunt the stone walls and lurk
Through the halls
Of somber Harper's Ferry.
Riding far along the canals
Sifting across Shenandoah Valley
Into the impenetrable mountain mist
The spirits of West Virginia never sleep
They are my family's legacy-
Who curse all those who wish to do harm to
The land we love so dearly.
And I have been visited many times by a ghost
He had been called to war so long ago
Was severely wounded, shot in his right leg
Suffered all sorts of pain thereafter
Nightmares, demons, darkness
He'd cry all through the night
He has since been looking for company
In the hands of his true lover
Still not afraid to fight.
While the winds ripped our pear trees in two
He wanted to think that it was alright
Whilst coal miners smoked their pipes
On the edge of a river still
They were wondering about peace, wondering
about life
He held fast. the reigns drawn tight,
Mysteries run deep into the earth,
But now we're quiet--now we're afraid of the light.


In the shallows everything is cold
I never ask, but I try and learn to listen
As the crickets seem of chirping out
At the darkness, as the phantoms
Wail, there is a silent distress
As if the air has been punctured
By an invisible spear
And each body has been sown
Into her fertile womb of earth
Stony caskets sleep
And I dare venture in between them
Where they still weep at birth
I can hear the calling of spirits
From whispering clouds of gray
From the rooster's caw at dawn
And the midnight owl's prey
The veil is lifted, and the witches come out
To whisper superstitions and play.
The folk magic has never gone
We still celebrate her youthful glee
We'll celebrate the history
This is what I know of what I see



Children Laughing


pebbles crumble underfoot
as fragrant flowers bloom
her voice is imminent
he holds her hand
with sunny days woven into song
sprinting through violets on tippy toes
softly strumming that classical tune
the brooks bubble with the sound of
children laughing

Maybe the Moon Knows


The world spins on a dial
I am spinning too
In between skipping stones
Children now throw my way
I am the deep blue river
they learned to swim through
when the days were cold
and fathers couldn't drink
I am the riverbed
With my rosy patchwork
Decorating my arms
And legs, pink flowers
I'd like to pull one
from my side, and
let you know


how much I hate this.
But maybe the moon knows
Let me throw my boat in
And we'll set sail
Off this boulder
To the maybes
The maybes.

Asylum Bells


You have to know by now
That you made the sun shine dear
We may go in circles around the earth
And now the trumpets might be clear
But there's something in the air
Causing a matrix of emotions to swell
To filter out the song in my ears
Through these sounds of Emily's stride
Her voice so clearly heard
In the silence of the mocking bird
You have to know by now my dear
That you made it storm
on your wedding day
That your worry stones might
be getting in the way
I can hear the voices in my head
They come to me through the sounds
That no one can hear



Because dear, these are dangerous times
For making discoveries about listening
The distance between your thumb and mine.
And now the violin might chime in
You wonder about the stars in the sky, if they
Like us, can see right through to the soul
Honey I know, it's hard to get through
But when the soldier calls me I know it's just me
Again, I am talking to myself on the radio
And there's no console to this game, life
And though the whistles may be running
Around your head, the soldiers might be dead
We can figure this out, true
If you let a moment pass on that second hand
Watch the dial spin, the path is slippery here
Where is Virginia Woolf?
Her voice might be lost in the ballet its clear
Then tippy toe through fire on a day so fearless
To the river where she wondered to the moon
Perhaps King Midas had a world of gold
But like me, not one hand to hold.
Who needs common sense? It gets in the way
On the perfect morning in the Asylum.



Honey


I dipped my ink then wrote in pen
about the saliva in your mouth
that made my heels seem to click
across the bridge in the gap in your smile
in our pastel dream worlds
You were buying me Irises, & child-like fancies
It's not like either one of us was alone you see,
with your tongue, you'd caress each curve
of me
until I wept, I was so happy
and you screamed until I went deaf
your body rose out of the steam
you were an obsession, I guess
and we were so young, I lost all my bones
Stubbing out the ash in each cigarette
You wondered if we truly were, together.
But we were, honey.





To be a Fairy


Mother, have you heard of the earth Elves
Who guard secrets in forest realms?
Oh what a gift it would be
To be one of the fairies!
Brother, have you heard of the silly Sprites
And foreign wars waged with winged knights
Who journey far and like Fossegrim
Fly into laughter and bubbling light?
Sister, have you heard of the ageless Sylph
Immortal soul prized more than mortal wealth
Showering the earth with feathered wings
And did you, sister, ever hear one sing?
Mother, have you heard of the earth Elves
Guarding secrets in their forest realms?
"Oh what a gift it would be
To be one of the fairies!"
Brother, have you heard of the Genie
Or maybe you've heard of the Leprechaun?
Little Irish shoemakers dressed in green
And no one knows what treasures they're hiding!
Sister, have you heard of the Dryads


Tree nymphs that rarely one perceives?
They're bound to their trees eternally
And love to disguise themselves in leaves!
Father, have you heard of the gnomes
They live mainly underground,
Ruled by Gob on his crystal throne?
They'll care for almost anything.
Although the world of the Fae may seem to be
A little small, a little unseen
No fairy will escape your eye
If you clap three times and really try!
"Oh what a gift it is to be
A fairy, a fairy!
Oh what a gift it is to be
To be one of the fairies!"


Disco Dreams


Drop me a line when you follow through with your
demands
Your plans so devoted to the sunshine & scams
Things we can't explain with a simple 'I'm fine.'
Drop me a line when you find that perfect smile


And you've gone the extra mile, lifted an extra
weight
But Tuesday turns to Saturday & I'm putting on my
happy shoes
We've all got the blues, everything in its violet
tongue
Can be merciful if properly sung
I wonder if you'll be someone like you always
thought
You could be that someone, but you just were not
So just join the disco baby, join the hubbub honey
I want to paint you a blue moon over Sunday
someday
But it just never goes my way does it sweetheart
He whispers 'Well maybe'

Of Comings and Goings

in the madness of letting go
I lost a piece of that formidable echo
in the comings and goings
consents of currents
the shattered drum rolls
I will have less to do with life
other than the hoarding of pill bottles
striking matches with familiar voices
convoluted in my diaphanous scheme
seeing double through mirrors that ripple
in my perpetrator's dream
drifting on through the pursuable delirium


stomping out footsteps with screams
washing off shadows in the shower
drinking lemon cyanide
with a dash of pepper
I guess I could say
that I'm doing well!


Catching Fireflies

I am in a boat on some river
And my brother put the anchor in the water
Don't drown out my voice, sir
I just want to be heard
Dreams like this make me strange
I wake up and say to myself
this time, this time
I will do alright
cool spring breezes
remind me of the times
stuck in repetition
waiting for a crime
we caught fireflies early
before the moon fell down
and stumbled through darkness
awaiting the blackest crown



Rainy Days

'don't steal my cigarettes' the sun comes in shining
and the wind blows, 'We never talk' I try to say
beautiful dreams pull me far--beyond time
but the fantasies fade upon my discovery
I wake up---sad, and I wonder why I spent
So much trouble learning to wake up?
because the dreams are becoming more real
Every night is like slipping into another place
'I want to take a vacation' and I pull the cigarette
Closer to my lips- inhaling more exhaustion
'it's the loss of blood' at my fingertips
then I'm dreaming, and it is so easy to pretend
Every night I go somewhere else--and when
I try to take off, someone hurries me away
My feet are chained to the floor, I can't fly anymore
I'm human, it hurts. I hurt people--I'm sure


The Vase


It was the perfect containment
a stark picture
a family gift
she picked those roses to remember
a child long gone, forever missed
forever


as she cut them all with sharp scissors
for in some way this would soothe
the damage it had done.
she performed sacred surgery
on her beloved memory
she tried to forget--her baby's first steps
The long gone happily ever afters
in each somber finality, it took her closer
pearl-white flowers beckoning rapture
cleansed by early rain in September
tangled beneath those inky stains
berries in a little one's hands
the grasses gone to gray and thundering
berries mangled and blood red
soaked in angry sweetness
'I can bleed too--dear' she muttered
crackling likened to underbrush
swift child's feet, scrambling to reach her
mother's hand reaching out to touch
To at least whisper
before she slipped
and fell into shards.





Delirium

Now you are mind as the whitest color
that fills the iris becomes an eye
Her skin, a blackened mist, the lunar lady’s light

The sailors are sleeping where I'd lay me down
tonight
Dreaming of happiness and calling me home.
Days reminding me of life
They found her soul was split in two
And now there's nothing she can do
To repair the severed pieces of a remaining- who?
Ask me what my name was
I cannot tell a lie, your beauty is surpassing she says
I am the ghost of who she was
The girl who did not die
All the heavy burdens rise
Into the darkness where
The white horses fly
You know your yellow face
Is the most curious thing
When I awakened from a dream
To see you staring down at me
I wonder why I am alone...
So alone here in my bones
For a soul that is
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