Posts Tagged ‘memories’

Unrequited Love – Sestina

This poem was inspired by this beautiful painting which is for sale (see below for link). 
 Peace be with all of you.
In silent motion I drift seamlessly
between reality’s fine line of dreams;
caught in the labyrinth of wanted love.
Stained corridors of promised fairy tales,
dull years of memories, mutating time –
defacing truth, obscuring my heart’s view.
Inside this winding parallactic view,
the melting promised years fade seamlessly.
My heart’s desire wrapped in wasted time,
within residing realms of frozen dreams.
You offered simple masquerading tales –
disguising charm for unrequited love. 
Quixotic fantasies entangled love,
wants heightened tantalizing points of view.
Continued to believe your fabled tales –
while time elapsed, unnoticed, seamlessly.
Hypocrisy laughed at my lustful dreams
until it was too late to salvage time.
Our carnal knowledge granted borrowed time
to orchestrate an ever-lasting love;
addressed within a gentle poet’s dream.
Emotions askew sealed your slighted view,
abandoning us as you seamlessly
went off collecting souvenirs of tales.
Suggestions of love mock your empty tales
rehearsed along the trail of misty time.
With caution you played your games seamlessly;
a temporal affair deflecting love.
You’re not aware I can escape this view
and your attempts to smuggle glossy dreams.
I shall relinquish all my vanished dreams;
eviscerate assuming hidden tales.
Forever you will be in my eye’s view
but I release myself from spiraled time.
Until you can feel one platonic-love,
in silent motion I drift seamlessly.
And though I view our noncommittal time –
enjoying lust with all your tales of love;
I am exhaling my dreams, seamlessly.
☮TheMsLvh © 2011
Image Source: Teimur-Amiry Unrequited Love – (Painting For Sale -Asking Price: $50,000 USD)
Size: 16 x 20 in – woo-hoo!


Thank you Ava and “The Poetry Palace Thursday Post Rally Week” for the Perfect Poet Award
I nominate  Mike Patrick for the next award

Visit these wonderful Poetic Blogs to read incredible poetry!
Parallactic  [par-uhlak-tik] – An apparent change in the direction of an object, caused by a change in observational position that provides a new line of sight.
Quixotic – impulsive and often rashly unpredictable.
Eviscerate – to deprive of vital or essential parts; disembowel.

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California Ink In Motion by TheMsLvh is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License

Awake in Nightmares – Sonnet

There’s no one in the control room;
directing any flame of light.
Dark shadows ready to consume;
the mindless empty of the flight.
Unable to escape the doom –
foreboding thoughts tied up in fright.
Old premonitions come alive –
alerting mind’s eye to survive.
Exotic faces lay in wait,
beyond the sound of voiceless screams –
releasing shivers down the spine.
Deep crevices in eyes dilate;
erasing lines from truth or dreams –
caught in the spiral of decline.
These are vibrations cursed in hate,
that rupture ears allowing streams
of bloody red to desecrate;
and split what is real at the seams.
Awake within the nightmare’s gate
unleashing fears of wild extremes.


Never Forget!

☮TheMsLvh © 2011
Image: Courtesy of Google Image

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California Ink In Motion by TheMsLvh is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License

Hats – Terza Rima

   In my discovery of the different forms of poetry,  I came across the Terza Rima.  This is my first attempt using this form.  Hope it reads well.  I have included its description of the form below. I hope you enjoy it as much as I did writing it. A  bit singy-songy I fear.
I have worn several hats throughout the years;
reflecting different roles I played each day.
Subjective meanings – kept as souvenirs.
A feathered birthday hat inviting play;
adorned year after year with no delay –
another wish on candles if I may?
A mournful hat weeps sadness of betray –
A smoke-stained cap that kissed a Reggae song –
A lover’s chapeau which will never stray.
There was a hat I dared not keep for long;
’cause it belonged to the quick stepping cop –
who chased me for the mischief I did wrong.
My favorite hat sold never in a shop,
uniting words on paper to be sung:
A Poet’s hat worn ’till the last ink drop.
Such memories in hats when I was young,
show steps of life upon each ladder’s rung.


☮TheMsLvh © 2011
Image: Hats on Ladder image by DecoDanny courtesy Google Images

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California Ink In Motion by TheMsLvh is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License



Terza rima is a three-line stanza using chain rhyme in the pattern A-B-A, B-C-B, C-D-C, D-E-D. There is no limit to the number of lines, but poems or sections of poems written in terza rima end with either a single line or couplet repeating the rhyme of the middle line of the final tercet. The two possible endings for the example above are d-e-d, e or d-e-d, e-e. There is no set rhythm for terza rima, but in English, iambic pentameter is generally preferred.


The first known use of terza rima is in Dante’s Divina Commedia. In creating the form, Dante may have been influenced by the lyric form used by the Provençal troubadours. The three-line pattern may have been intended to suggest the Holy Trinity. Inspired by Dante, other Italian poets, including Petrarch and Boccaccio, began using the form.

The first English poet to write in terza rima was Geoffrey Chaucer, who used it for his Complaint to His Lady. Although a difficult form to use in English because of the relative paucity of rhyme words available in a language which has, in comparison with Italian, a more complex phonology, terza rima has been used by Milton, Byron (in his Prophecy of Dante) and Shelley (in his Ode to the West Wind and The Triumph of Life). Thomas Hardy also used the form of meter in ‘Friends Beyond’ to interlink the characters and continue the flow of the poem. A number of 20th-century poets also employed the form. These include Archibald MacLeish, W. H. Auden, Andrew Cannon, William Carlos Williams, T. S. Eliot, Derek Walcott, Clark Ashton Smith, James Merrill, Robert Frost and Richard Wilbur. [Information source :Wikipedia]

Drown a Flask

Confusion purl inside my head,
sad thoughts besiege this weary soul.
Words spoken – carelessly said,
alone, I plummet down a hole.
Can eyes see pain behind my mask,
concealing anguish buried deep?
Escape your own pain, drown a flask,
Your pseudo façade makes you weep.
Expressions glaring dissension,
this anger boils your mad face red.
The wine color brings forth tension,
unsaid words scratch till hearts are shred. 
Appears to be a no-win lot,
old patterns never seem to lie.
Let distance heal this love torn knot,
before time takes toll and we die.
-TheMsLvh © 2011
image source: Google image

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California Ink In Motion by TheMsLvh is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License

Spare the Rod… Please?

This poem was a difficult write. Not only with the words chosen but my dark muse appeared. This is a dark poem of child abuse, but a subject that always needs attention.  I hope I did it justice on a few levels.
Submitted to The Sunday Whirl,
Torn curtains can hold twisted memories
of acts remembered, pain forgotten not.
The reprehensible atrocities
behind closed doors, leave rendered spots.
Sore red lines cast external bruising gild
on flesh so pure, its’ contrast scattered deep.
One blink can whirl wet eyes from sad tears filled,
before the young will climb on clouds to sleep.
Domestic stains remain as clocks tick time;
contort the scan of life’s new marvel age.
Bad memories will haunt this blind crime
thus, leaves a spirit blistering enraged.

 TheMsLvh © 2011

image source: Staale N

Creative Commons License
California Ink In Motion by TheMsLvh is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License

Flash in Time

For in a moment you suspended time
with your soft verses, synchronized in rhyme.
My ears were longing for expressions new;
the hours shared together were too few.
Our eyes connected with a flash of light;
a flash you see as twilight turns to night.
Some say it’s green, but none the less, it’s bright
when eyes connect, the thrill, so real, so right.
Your five o’clock scent seared a memory,
that will burn forever in history.
Tongues dancing on the moonlight’s heated skin,
 igniting passion’s aching need – within.
Was it a dream of my desired want?
Throughout the day those deep memories haunt,
for it was just a flash in time gone past –
but forever a memory to last.
-TheMsLvh     © 2011 *edited 9/16/11

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