#November Notes Day 18/Music Prompt: Poem – Free Verse – “Your Celestial Everglow”#amwriting #poetry #musicchallenge


For November Notes Day 18, the song is “Chariot” by David Lee. I’m combining with another music Prompt from MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie and the song by Coldplay, “Everglow


Credit: Felipe Luiz via Unsplash


“Chariot” by Jacob Lee


“Everglow” Cold Play


Your eyes are diamonds, your smile a dimpled glow,

I miss the days you lay against me,

My breath the rhythm you slept to gently.

Oh these brilliant peepers glittered,

But I used to love them best swept by your lashes.

Others come and go, but you were my diamond,

You were dear and extra-special.

And you’re long gone in death’s horseless chariot,

Life’s waters don’t flow easy, you know.

Yet, our tangled fingers still feel real,

Your hands around me rooted into my soul.

Your beaming eyes remind me you’re gone,

Past time into the wondrous celestial.

Oh, my diamond, my rock — I miss you so much,

I’m broken and cold; I should, but I can’t let you go.

Until you met death’s chariot,

And stopped — though he would’ve halted for you.*

Your fingers were mine, intertwined,

Eyes a mysterious hue.

So many words and emotions left unspoken.

Your insightfulness, your light —

Was the warmest of brights.

But you broke my heart wide open,

When death stopped for you;

His chariot door flew open and you entered happily.

No matter the cold inside my bones,

I’ll not forget you, my diamond,

I should, but I can’t let you go.

I miss the days you lay against me,

My breath the rhythm you slept to gently,

Oh those brilliant peepers glittered.

And in the darkest of moments I still seek your light,

When the shadow overwhelms — your Everglow shines,

A feeling within me unchanging.

Your chariot passed, tippet and tule unneeded.*

And your presence is gone, leaving me forlorn,

But in the darkest of moments — your Everglow shines,

When the shadow surrounds me, I still seek your light.

The eternal feeling within me — your Everglow abiding,

Your celestial within me — your Everglow resounding.

*****

* Allusions to Emily Dickinson’s “I Could Not Stop for Death” are also made within the above poem.


©Mandibelle16.(2017) All Rights Reserved.

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Tale Weavers: Views on Death by Emily Dickinson and John Donne #amwriting #poetry #JohnDonne #EmilyDickinson 


Thanks to Michael of MindLoveMisery’s Menagerie for hosting this Tale Weaver’s Prompt based on the figure of death. Emily Dickinson’s poem “I could not stop for Death” and John Donne’s Holy Sonnet – “Death Be Not Proud” seem to say exactly what needs to be said for me on the prompt. And whatever I do, I can’t think of something I could say better than these poets due regardimg the personification of death. Please enjoy!

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Credit: Google images for Reuse

Credit: Google Images for Re-Use

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1. Because I could not stop for Death (479)

By Emily Dickinson, (1830 – 1886)

http://www.poetryfoundation.org 

*****

 Because I could not stop for Death – 

He kindly stopped for me –  

The Carriage held but just Ourselves –  

And Immortality.

*****

We slowly drove – He knew no haste

And I had put away

My labor and my leisure too,

For His Civility – 

*****

We passed the School, where Children strove

At Recess – in the Ring –  

We passed the Fields of Gazing Grain –  

We passed the Setting Sun – 

*****

Or rather – He passed us – 

The Dews drew quivering and chill – 

For only Gossamer, my Gown – 

My Tippet – only Tulle – 

*****

We paused before a House that seemed

A Swelling of the Ground – 

The Roof was scarcely visible – 

The Cornice – in the Ground – 

*****

Since then – ‘tis Centuries – and yet

Feels shorter than the Day

I first surmised the Horses’ Heads 

Were toward Eternity – 

*****

(www.poets.org)

———

Holy Sonnets: Death, be not proud

BY JOHN DONNE

wwww.poetryfoundation.org 

*****

Death, be not proud, though some have called thee 

Mighty and dreadful, for thou art not so; 

For those whom thou think’st thou dost overthrow 

Die not, poor Death, nor yet canst thou kill me. 

From rest and sleep, which but thy pictures be, 

Much pleasure; then from thee much more must flow, 

And soonest our best men with thee do go, 

Rest of their bones, and soul’s delivery. 

Thou art slave to fate, chance, kings, and desperate men, 

And dost with poison, war, and sickness dwell, 

And poppy or charms can make us sleep as well 

And better than thy stroke; why swell’st thou then? 

One short sleep past, we wake eternally 

And death shall be no more; Death, thou shalt die. 

*****

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©Mandibelle16. (2017) All Rights Reserved.