M a t u r a t i o n...
Pearl white, ash black infant sparrows;
staring at empty olde bottles of merlot,
mesmerised, by their hued rufescence,
blind to the myriad nuances harboring.
Fly not nestlings, still dwarfed you'll be
on midnight jaunts with crows stalking.
Soon you'll sense how natures cradling
bares pulse- superseding Mother-Love.
Untie these nurture threads, break free,
matriarchial completion, now it 's time-
to take wings....into the southern winds,
sparrows live to fly the southern winds.
poem by Frank James Ryan Jr.
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R e v e l a t i o n {Alliteration Format}
.....Seven Seals sans silver steeds: Satans surreptition;
.....Beleaguers, bedraggles belates by bilious Beast;
.....Causes caustic carpetbagger cancered catharsis;
.....Hells horned hookworm, hails Heavens Holy heist?
.....Wrong! ...War wages, wending with wretched wrath;
.....Regardless, Revelation rears resolute rapture
.....Battle bleeds Beelzebub black, blue, bare...beaten;
.....Ruefully retreats, realising Resurrections Rules!
.....Contemptuous coward, coo's, capitulates Christ!
poem by Frank James Ryan Jr.
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ASTRONOMY OF THE HEART [Sonnet LXIX]
I've watched the heart of sunsets red,
decend on waters in dripping mauve,
reflecting the bleeding sky of day,
'closure..... to twilight's curtain call,
'tween mountain peaks in silhouette,
'fore passing off its dying torch,
to nascent, charcoaled skies of night,
its speckled scape of anthrocite,
and million stars of silver-white,
breaking space with beaconed light,
washing the hazy face,
of 'the man in the moon';
and night becomes a celestial capture
of Love...no heart be jejune.
poem by Frank James Ryan Jr.
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Creations of Sunsets In Autumn
Have y'u ever watched th' pour of an Autumn Sunset
into th' netherscape of a western skies body of water,
and if so, did y'u see it.......capture it in your eye-shot
gold over dusk transforming to crimson, as hues bled
in variable nuance, 'til afternoons Sun empties its last
breath, by th' even'tide breeze of th' crisp Autumn air.
I have, an' the experience was resplendent as spotlight
on sea-glass, re-enforcing potentate of science, nature-
and all they created: After God finished creating them.
poem by Frank James Ryan Jr.
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L a s t - R e q u e s t {Ariel's Promise}
Standing close, yet not quite o'er you,
so as not to disturb your stilled presence;
your flesh, shades of ecru, 'n like an aura,
I feel the pulse of your once amber heart...
touching me...cotton gentle, bisquit warm...,
telling me, 'Love......I am not far away''.
But come 'morrow, when they open th'earth,
lower you.....into your final stead,
will i no longer feel that aura about me,
as that would inflict great pain on this heart,
like long rusted nails thru' my arteries;
tell me love.....you'll not be far away.
poem by Frank James Ryan Jr.
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The Death of Autumn...{Sonnet 12-21}
Watching leaves turn like chameleons
Sensing Autumns......inevitable doom
Scathed by southern winds, breathing
Thru' Mother Natures.....Winter tomb
Her October conception bleeds colour
Autumntide....wherein she finds home
Sky's lustrous drapes...dropp and cover
O'er harvests cold, shadow'd greystone
And, October.....no choice but to yield
Unto Novembers...harsh, ossified meal
While, Mother Nature spins her breeze
Casting Autumn... unto Winters freeze
Burnt umber leaf.....Octobers breadth
'Til Winter's birth hails Autumns death
poem by Frank James Ryan Jr.
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S c e n a r i o @ 96
May i pour y'u a cup of som' tulsi green tea
Keep yo'r demitasse safe in yo'r breakfront
For yo'r Ladies Club meeting next Tuesday
When y'u serve- yo'r Neapolitan crumpet's
And, then i look.....into her sad tired, eye's
I realise these visit's are her weeks highlite
So i say...... ''This calls for your demitasse''
Said, it made her green tea, th' more tangy
Som'times i wonder who'll come to visit me
Share green tea and crumpets when i'm 96
Thing is i hate Tea, and have no demitasse
Quite a scenario.....Will i have to die lonely?
poem by Frank James Ryan Jr.
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Echoes Breathe Deep {Rondeau Poetic Format}
Echoes breathe deep in Church steeples,
Chilled toll of chimes from Cathedral's,
Chords of Love, The Passion...and Death;
Funeral's hold the deepest breath,
O'er heads of it's grieving people.
Incense stings the eye's like needles,
Smoked heat dances 'round the steeple,
the starched March of Death, agrieving
Echoes breathe deep.
'Side the Church mourners sit, weeping
From the heat of the Cathedral;
August Masses tend to steal breath,
Leave a hollow sense of bereft,
Still there be breath from the steeple;
Echoes breathe deep.
poem by Frank James Ryan Jr.
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When Forests Dance Before Me
When forests of romance dance before me
My sense of pleasure, explores with fervour
'Tis my instinct to explore a forest.........dark
Seek its sweet treasured path and endulge
Willow's tree unfurls, her tear-dropp branches
Adorning her majesty....with graceful spread
Embracing all that lies.......before my senses
Ensconced in the smooth of her velvet drape
When leaves befall their shedding....over me
Blanketing my fancy like sheaths of fine linen
Suddenly you appear and i am lost within you
Love, you are th' branches...of my forest deep
poem by Frank James Ryan Jr.
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In The Q u i e t s
In the quiets, one can hear th' beating of their Heart;
Haunting, yet comely; soft echo of a weary drummer.
Close your eyes, and in that moment, you are pulled-
Into th' calm of a distant world...away fr'm all chaos,
Somewhere 'tween th' silence.....and th' exhillaration,
A place wher' yo'r dreams are safe fr'm mad demons,
Like Emerald City, sans th' Wicked Witch o' th' West.
Feel th' peace within, dwell in th' sweet of th' poppies;
No place like home, perhaps, still dreams yeild peace.
Open yo'r eyes to th' new day...th' quiets have spoken.
poem by Frank James Ryan Jr.
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