Poems on Arthur Rimbaud Seeking Honest Critique
#ArthurRimbaud
Hepcat61
geoff cat
geoff cat
Poem Published
31st Oct 2019 2:42pm
31st Oct 2019 2:42pm
A Warrant of Crows
(while considering “The Drunken Boat” by Jean Nicholas Arthur Rimbaud)
In first ray’s light, the empty crows descend,
Black beaks that tear apart the road’s edge death,
Urine caressed, the end of tony night,
Reflecting steams of neon sputters end.
How graceful silks arise above the blood.
How leather’s polished gaze in gentile steps,
From stone to stone, avoids the gentile muck,
The gentile eyes that never find its flood.
The white plates’ stack, the grace of black hat...
In first ray’s light, the empty crows descend,
Black beaks that tear apart the road’s edge death,
Urine caressed, the end of tony night,
Reflecting steams of neon sputters end.
How graceful silks arise above the blood.
How leather’s polished gaze in gentile steps,
From stone to stone, avoids the gentile muck,
The gentile eyes that never find its flood.
The white plates’ stack, the grace of black hat...
#ArthurRimbaud
1072 reads
7 Comments
AdamW
Poem Published
27th Sep 2018 10:25am
27th Sep 2018 10:25am
7/4
Is the gulf so wide
we can no longer see straight and far ahead?
However great a part of humanity:
apart is not nearly enough.
When reason borders on unreasonable
where do you draw the line?
Conquest confounds poetry
in the soul, a trophy never enough.
As efforts to camouflage the obvious
spiral into loveless isolation.
Antennae -sunbeams- pierce armoured skies:
beyond the pale is far enough.
we can no longer see straight and far ahead?
However great a part of humanity:
apart is not nearly enough.
When reason borders on unreasonable
where do you draw the line?
Conquest confounds poetry
in the soul, a trophy never enough.
As efforts to camouflage the obvious
spiral into loveless isolation.
Antennae -sunbeams- pierce armoured skies:
beyond the pale is far enough.
#politics
#HumanRights
#culture #ArthurRimbaud
#culture #ArthurRimbaud
470 reads
2 Comments
ReggiePoet
Reggie
Reggie
Poem Published
23rd Sep 2018 6:08pm
23rd Sep 2018 6:08pm
The Show Must Go On
The elites of this world play a devious game
Stealing history’s truth for their self-serving aims
As the curtain goes up and their actors appear
Their deception’s effect leaves our minds steeped in fear
We’ve been taught to believe in our system of rule
With no comprehension it’s merely their tool
To distract us away from the battles they wage
The truth of our world is a theater stage!
Now the curtains grow threadbare, with light showing through
Exposing a few of the lies that they spew
But the actors can draw our attention away
By...
Stealing history’s truth for their self-serving aims
As the curtain goes up and their actors appear
Their deception’s effect leaves our minds steeped in fear
We’ve been taught to believe in our system of rule
With no comprehension it’s merely their tool
To distract us away from the battles they wage
The truth of our world is a theater stage!
Now the curtains grow threadbare, with light showing through
Exposing a few of the lies that they spew
But the actors can draw our attention away
By...
#politics
#TruthOfLife
#ArthurRimbaud
713 reads
13 Comments
KGERICD
Poem Published
21st Sep 2018 4:28am
21st Sep 2018 4:28am
pencil
your like pencil
you write some good things
and sometimes bad
you can erase it
but you always leave
a stain
a mark of your mistake
that you cannot correct
you write some good things
and sometimes bad
you can erase it
but you always leave
a stain
a mark of your mistake
that you cannot correct
#regret
#dark
#ArthurRimbaud
669 reads
2 Comments
Oshinome
Poem Published
16th Sep 2018 5:45am
16th Sep 2018 5:45am
Silent Crowds
All along the aging shore,
as that wild Pontchartrain shimmers below my feet,
The vision of a thousand eyes on that sunset,
these crashing waves,
these hands.
Do you remember that time she wrapped herself in curtains?
And then I said to you that I am
whatever may be
shining out from deep beneath,
Beneath every layer there,
In there,
from within the heart of her quiet light.
In the precious dance of her Spanish moss,
her sigh,
and her face as it...
as that wild Pontchartrain shimmers below my feet,
The vision of a thousand eyes on that sunset,
these crashing waves,
these hands.
Do you remember that time she wrapped herself in curtains?
And then I said to you that I am
whatever may be
shining out from deep beneath,
Beneath every layer there,
In there,
from within the heart of her quiet light.
In the precious dance of her Spanish moss,
her sigh,
and her face as it...
#identity
#nature
#God #ArthurRimbaud
#God #ArthurRimbaud
685 reads
5 Comments
SatInUGal
Kumar
Kumar
Poem Published
10th Sep 2018 7:06pm
10th Sep 2018 7:06pm
OPENING THE DOOR
Unpredictable
Winds tossing a tin can boat
On a restless sea:
You have aroused me
I am opening the door
To your banshee screams
Winds tossing a tin can boat
On a restless sea:
You have aroused me
I am opening the door
To your banshee screams
#relationships
#ArthurRimbaud
546 reads
4 Comments
Josh
Joshua Bond
Joshua Bond
Poem Published
5th Sep 2018 12:25pm
5th Sep 2018 12:25pm
A Life In The Day Of An Also-Ran
In an ageing morning
a larger life unlived
they took a graded turning
and set the boat adrift
then dozing on the shore-line
merely basked and bathed
to cover up the insult
that seasoned all the rage
but scorpions, remaining true
who knew this route so well
were not disturbed at all, you know,
by private little hells
the tide came in still resolute
and so the dance began …
a billion people, then some more
the ones who also ran.
a larger life unlived
they took a graded turning
and set the boat adrift
then dozing on the shore-line
merely basked and bathed
to cover up the insult
that seasoned all the rage
but scorpions, remaining true
who knew this route so well
were not disturbed at all, you know,
by private little hells
the tide came in still resolute
and so the dance began …
a billion people, then some more
the ones who also ran.
#anxiety
#identity
#LifeStruggles
#ArthurRimbaud
#TruthOfLife
742 reads
4 Comments
EdibleWords
Poem Published
3rd Sep 2018 11:32pm
3rd Sep 2018 11:32pm
My Maserati
Exactly nineteen years ago
on my eighteenth birthday
my best friend ever
gave me a Maserati
I didn't quite know
what exact car type
but after a big auto show
what stood out from the hype
was one Maserati
Seeing my needs and my heart
Loving the quirks to my soul
unlocked by automobile art
So on my thirty-seventh
where do you think I'd be?
In the garage
with my Maserati
With the best gift
ever given to me
on my eighteenth birthday
my best friend ever
gave me a Maserati
I didn't quite know
what exact car type
but after a big auto show
what stood out from the hype
was one Maserati
Seeing my needs and my heart
Loving the quirks to my soul
unlocked by automobile art
So on my thirty-seventh
where do you think I'd be?
In the garage
with my Maserati
With the best gift
ever given to me
#romantic
#cars
#metaphor #ArthurRimbaud
#metaphor #ArthurRimbaud
558 reads
8 Comments
Hepcat61
geoff cat
geoff cat
Poem Published
2nd Sep 2018 2:38pm
2nd Sep 2018 2:38pm
Days of Umbrage
How odd the pattern spreads,
Dead leaves caught gold.
In summer swelter’s pique,
Dead winter’s cold.
The childish laughs in wind,
Broken swings and dogs,
How deep the spirit’s pass
In ghost-breath fogs.
Beneath the canopies,
Gains evening shade.
Beneath, the mind, the heart,
Their plans dis-made.
In days of umbrage known,
How sweet the taste,
Of summer’s fruit betrayed,
Love laid to waste.
(um·brage – [archaic] - shade or shadow, especially as...
Dead leaves caught gold.
In summer swelter’s pique,
Dead winter’s cold.
The childish laughs in wind,
Broken swings and dogs,
How deep the spirit’s pass
In ghost-breath fogs.
Beneath the canopies,
Gains evening shade.
Beneath, the mind, the heart,
Their plans dis-made.
In days of umbrage known,
How sweet the taste,
Of summer’s fruit betrayed,
Love laid to waste.
(um·brage – [archaic] - shade or shadow, especially as...
#death
#birthday
#aging #ArthurRimbaud
#aging #ArthurRimbaud
541 reads
2 Comments
Ahavati
Tams
Tams
Poem Published
31st Aug 2018 5:40am
31st Aug 2018 5:40am
The Great Divide
There is a Great Divide
defined differently
by each personality;
it can be seen as black
or perhaps Palestinian
So narrow the Divide
it can close unto death
before widening
to accept difference;
wearies of itself;
loses short-term memory
Remembers younger days
playground antics
void of color and race
Sometimes it stands guard
to the entry
of the heart;
where it doesn't stand
a...
defined differently
by each personality;
it can be seen as black
or perhaps Palestinian
So narrow the Divide
it can close unto death
before widening
to accept difference;
wearies of itself;
loses short-term memory
Remembers younger days
playground antics
void of color and race
Sometimes it stands guard
to the entry
of the heart;
where it doesn't stand
a...
#LifeAsAWriter
#WritingPoetry
#ArthurRimbaud
846 reads
3 Comments
CarlHalling
Carl Halling
Carl Halling
Poem Published
31st May 2018 8:48am
31st May 2018 8:48am
A Multitude of Woes
As a young man,
I was always obsessed
By melancholy.
I saw deep sadness,
The quality
That so tormented my heroes,
Such as Arthur Rimbaud,
And Montgomery Clift,
As glamorous and romantic,
But it’s not…
It’s not remotely romantic,
When you yourself are adrift,
And weighed down,
By a multitude of woes.
I was always obsessed
By melancholy.
I saw deep sadness,
The quality
That so tormented my heroes,
Such as Arthur Rimbaud,
And Montgomery Clift,
As glamorous and romantic,
But it’s not…
It’s not remotely romantic,
When you yourself are adrift,
And weighed down,
By a multitude of woes.
#sadness
#heartbroken
#romantic #ArthurRimbaud
#romantic #ArthurRimbaud
414 reads
4 Comments
Oshinome
Poem Published
11th Feb 2018 8:15am
11th Feb 2018 8:15am
Ailuros
I am the
Wild mechanics in the ways you move, she says,
Where only my voiceless sunlight resides,
The echoing wind in its rays.
Where have all the sidewalks
Gone when the crevice flower cries?
Oh Charlie Parker, we love you
Forever the Steppenwolf,
Suspended, like some ancient fly
In amber. Now only laughter
Where there was once only pain.
A ghost of a world passes
On around you, long after you
Shed those early autumn’s
Years, to laugh at last.
Even when Rimbaud was
Alone, we knew each other...
Wild mechanics in the ways you move, she says,
Where only my voiceless sunlight resides,
The echoing wind in its rays.
Where have all the sidewalks
Gone when the crevice flower cries?
Oh Charlie Parker, we love you
Forever the Steppenwolf,
Suspended, like some ancient fly
In amber. Now only laughter
Where there was once only pain.
A ghost of a world passes
On around you, long after you
Shed those early autumn’s
Years, to laugh at last.
Even when Rimbaud was
Alone, we knew each other...
#mythology
#ArthurRimbaud
521 reads
0 Comments
DU Poetry : Poems on Arthur Rimbaud Seeking Honest Critique
#ArthurRimbaud is curated by Ahavati (Tams).
