Submissions by davidchirko (David Chirko)
POEMS AND SHORT STORIES
Poet Introduction
Like Goethe, I would some day like to be thought of as a poet-psychologist, reflecting the quintessence of man's enigma.
Dedication To A Legend: Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart
How I caress this every moment I sip,
From your sacred cup
That flows over, majestically, in perpetrating wonder.
Whose waterfalls of radiant genius
Never quench me,
Nor the multitudes, who have knelt so often before you.
You’ve expressed an infinity, about this world or the next,
With mellifluous thoughts,
That no mere mastermind shall ever dare ponder, but the Eternal Himself.
Your music pours into us the woman we want to make love to:
"Elvira Madigan" -
The woman who touched our dreams, making your beauty known to...
From your sacred cup
That flows over, majestically, in perpetrating wonder.
Whose waterfalls of radiant genius
Never quench me,
Nor the multitudes, who have knelt so often before you.
You’ve expressed an infinity, about this world or the next,
With mellifluous thoughts,
That no mere mastermind shall ever dare ponder, but the Eternal Himself.
Your music pours into us the woman we want to make love to:
"Elvira Madigan" -
The woman who touched our dreams, making your beauty known to...
#love
#inspirational
#gratitude
#admiration
#emotions
329 reads
1 Comment
Silence Breeds No Mania
From the outer silence there shines within
The Spirit, that espouses our innermost Being.
Through the embodiment of its translucence,
Flow the motions of transcendence.
In the tranquility of soundlessness
Pour the Way-showers of His cascading love,
Eternally replenishing our barren parts;
As serenity rules the patience of waiting hearts.
For silence is never heard;
But the Spirit, realized by those only
Sincerely immersed, in the thought of His presence,
As the Grace in His arms unfold His immanence.
But in every...
The Spirit, that espouses our innermost Being.
Through the embodiment of its translucence,
Flow the motions of transcendence.
In the tranquility of soundlessness
Pour the Way-showers of His cascading love,
Eternally replenishing our barren parts;
As serenity rules the patience of waiting hearts.
For silence is never heard;
But the Spirit, realized by those only
Sincerely immersed, in the thought of His presence,
As the Grace in His arms unfold His immanence.
But in every...
#religion
#faith
#spiritual
#TruthOfLife
#curse
289 reads
I Have A Dream
Let freedom ring,” he’d say,
From perturbed rubies, that were his lips,
Bent below aborted, disturbing eyes.
The russet sunsets of Manhattan
And breaking cornfields of Louisiana,
Each bereaved of their Messiah, now gone.
He had a hope,
He had a prayer,
And he had a dream.
Resurrected in the tears and aspirations
Of those few, who weren’t piercing
The blood and water from out of his side.
His faith folded in eroding rocks, unflinching,
Furnishing the Atlantic with a shoulder,
To batter...
From perturbed rubies, that were his lips,
Bent below aborted, disturbing eyes.
The russet sunsets of Manhattan
And breaking cornfields of Louisiana,
Each bereaved of their Messiah, now gone.
He had a hope,
He had a prayer,
And he had a dream.
Resurrected in the tears and aspirations
Of those few, who weren’t piercing
The blood and water from out of his side.
His faith folded in eroding rocks, unflinching,
Furnishing the Atlantic with a shoulder,
To batter...
#strength
#hope
#courage
#admiration
#respect
435 reads
2 Comments
The Donovan
A historic pavement flows through part of a town,
where England’s Queen in a DeSoto once rode,
owned by the “Neighborhood King,” of renown.
Where the scent and glory of that “fresh Hunky air”
thrives in a Carpathian-Croatian wilderness –
a boulder-metropolized thoroughfare.
Tar paper skyscrapers house a warm felicity,
gripped by the verdure of manicured lawns,
fenced in a neoclassical artistry.
The pool room and bars are a stable sickness;
the local gang gone with...
where England’s Queen in a DeSoto once rode,
owned by the “Neighborhood King,” of renown.
Where the scent and glory of that “fresh Hunky air”
thrives in a Carpathian-Croatian wilderness –
a boulder-metropolized thoroughfare.
Tar paper skyscrapers house a warm felicity,
gripped by the verdure of manicured lawns,
fenced in a neoclassical artistry.
The pool room and bars are a stable sickness;
the local gang gone with...
#childhood
#family
#memories
296 reads
0 Comments
(A) Poem:
Green means this land;
it leads me to fiords,
where an icy blue strand
refreshes his melody, below.
Like green, becoming blue,
the forest is a mountain, cool;
in the darkness I walk through,
to fonts of frosty fragrance.
Under my lonely feet
the birches accompany me,
whose floor is a mystery, replete -
a garden of gossamer lime.
The symphonies forever sing,
like its Northern birds;
a memory will sweetly ring,
for...
it leads me to fiords,
where an icy blue strand
refreshes his melody, below.
Like green, becoming blue,
the forest is a mountain, cool;
in the darkness I walk through,
to fonts of frosty fragrance.
Under my lonely feet
the birches accompany me,
whose floor is a mystery, replete -
a garden of gossamer lime.
The symphonies forever sing,
like its Northern birds;
a memory will sweetly ring,
for...
#music
351 reads
1 Comment
The Beloved Of Two Requiems
Reclining in his indifference
that feels in the first dimension
there float the hurts
atop Primal pools
For pain is a cloud
an intangible wave
that reaches a shore
where no warm is found
There he’s separated by two eternities
as his tears abashed
trickle down and absorb
the walls of his frozen silence
which cloak and detour
the words at the edge of his lips
only the Third Ear could see
So he travelled those few hundred miles
to reach the broken silence
of his fledgling wound
whose...
that feels in the first dimension
there float the hurts
atop Primal pools
For pain is a cloud
an intangible wave
that reaches a shore
where no warm is found
There he’s separated by two eternities
as his tears abashed
trickle down and absorb
the walls of his frozen silence
which cloak and detour
the words at the edge of his lips
only the Third Ear could see
So he travelled those few hundred miles
to reach the broken silence
of his fledgling wound
whose...
#father
#parent
442 reads
1 Comment
Metamorphosis of Naricssus
Imbibe they, the crystal shallowness,
Glowing, in minds of disharmony.
My thoughts intuit decrepitness
In their eyes, that murder me.
With daggers sharp, within,
Wherever I walk every day.
Eternity grows so thin,
To the sojourn, as I make my way.
Down its corridors, I realize
Where Vlaminck rapes Renoir,
As Dali’s visions bastardize,
My mind, he’s painted thus far.
And in the mission’s silence,
My travels begin to write,
What is unknown to my audience,
In the mansions of my flight.
Over the...
Glowing, in minds of disharmony.
My thoughts intuit decrepitness
In their eyes, that murder me.
With daggers sharp, within,
Wherever I walk every day.
Eternity grows so thin,
To the sojourn, as I make my way.
Down its corridors, I realize
Where Vlaminck rapes Renoir,
As Dali’s visions bastardize,
My mind, he’s painted thus far.
And in the mission’s silence,
My travels begin to write,
What is unknown to my audience,
In the mansions of my flight.
Over the...
#oppression
#LifeStruggles
379 reads
1 Comment
History Returns To New York
Today is theirs, swollen from the ache of infamy;
Heroes played, and were felled where pride had sat,
For the fields are visions, that adulate their misery,
As those who live by the bat, die by the bat -
Because Victory is always the last and bitter destiny.
Heroes played, and were felled where pride had sat,
For the fields are visions, that adulate their misery,
As those who live by the bat, die by the bat -
Because Victory is always the last and bitter destiny.
#gratitude
#bittersweet
291 reads
1 Comment
A Boy And His Dog
Over the hill
a boy and his dog
a laugh and a bark
youth with its spark
At the bottom a bed
with no healing hand
to visit his dreams
with fate's useless schemes
Beyond the hill
the dog runs alone
with skies and trees
the end with disease
a boy and his dog
a laugh and a bark
youth with its spark
At the bottom a bed
with no healing hand
to visit his dreams
with fate's useless schemes
Beyond the hill
the dog runs alone
with skies and trees
the end with disease
#illness
#cancer
320 reads
1 Comment
In The Year 1985
of the names that are filled
in your book that are written
mine has been stilled
by the hand that has smitten
my hopes that had willed
a wondrous world so
in a coming utopia
the place in tomorrow
where we breathe euphoria
whose tears have no sorrow
but a meaningful vision
has been brushed away
and though i envision
what i live for each day
it’s a floundered delusion
on a bench you then lay
drunk with...
in your book that are written
mine has been stilled
by the hand that has smitten
my hopes that had willed
a wondrous world so
in a coming utopia
the place in tomorrow
where we breathe euphoria
whose tears have no sorrow
but a meaningful vision
has been brushed away
and though i envision
what i live for each day
it’s a floundered delusion
on a bench you then lay
drunk with...
#luck
381 reads
1 Comment
Where I once Died
Golden phallus of smoking greed kisses a now blackened, clouded sky,
Splashing its filth and fury over the rusted paths, where decades of feet have trodden,
To keep the breath of a rock memory, in a mineralized civilization.
Myriads have come to worship what you’d call “a living,” where everything is dying;
While burning, molten insanities spit out from sparkling tongues, everywhere,
Licking the world, now drained, with metal rivers that flow on, inexorably, to whoever cares.
Never ceasing, never subsiding, not even...
Splashing its filth and fury over the rusted paths, where decades of feet have trodden,
To keep the breath of a rock memory, in a mineralized civilization.
Myriads have come to worship what you’d call “a living,” where everything is dying;
While burning, molten insanities spit out from sparkling tongues, everywhere,
Licking the world, now drained, with metal rivers that flow on, inexorably, to whoever cares.
Never ceasing, never subsiding, not even...
#responsibility
363 reads
1 Comment
Black Winter
In the silence of a bleeding emptiness,
My visions espouse the enclosed, motionless.
Flowers generate their fervent harmony,
With the ceiling, that serenades a darkened melody.
Soon, mystic chants would caress the silence,
As last thoughts become everlasting moments.
Incense inebriates the awe, with its sweetening rapture,
While the air is shattered with the thought of his departure.
Alone in himself, and alone in his pity,
He succumbed to the most personal liberty.
And left without notice or warning,
Like a...
My visions espouse the enclosed, motionless.
Flowers generate their fervent harmony,
With the ceiling, that serenades a darkened melody.
Soon, mystic chants would caress the silence,
As last thoughts become everlasting moments.
Incense inebriates the awe, with its sweetening rapture,
While the air is shattered with the thought of his departure.
Alone in himself, and alone in his pity,
He succumbed to the most personal liberty.
And left without notice or warning,
Like a...
#love
359 reads
1 Comment
DU Poetry : Submissions by davidchirko (David Chirko)