Category: Ode Poetry

Poetic odes to things I like

A Beautiful Enchantment

A poem for the 50th anniversary of “Earth day”

Natural features of Earth - Le Souffleur, Mauritius

Earth, I love you, for my eternal seed roots into you 
Earth, you revolve, while the sea dissolves into you 
Earth, you evolve, while everything else dies within you 
Your belly is a jar that nurture everything that's alive
Your belly is a petri-dish where we all dive 
Your belly is a pathway, where we all drive
This little planet, pale blue dot, so fertile and damp
This little planet, rich with variances of life and lands 
This little planet, so colorful, so full with things that ramp
And your big arms, hug us, mortal as we are
And your big arms, cradle us, bad as we are 
And your big arms, protect us, fragile as we are 
How lovely for us to live inside of your dream 
How lovely to exist, just to exist, swimming in your stream
How lovely to open our eyes as to find us, in your rim 
Earth I do love everything that you contain —
The sea, the sun, the sky, the lands, this wellspring, 
You see, you hear, and I know of all the love that remain
While you watch in silence, with adoration, your everything 
Earth, what a beautiful enchantment you are 
Earth, you are a treasure chest that contains all 
Earth, your secret, the chamber inside, your half dark 
Earth, I am silent, and in this silence I watch you grow whole.

Happy Earth day to all. I hope you are all safe out there. Earth is going through a harsh winter, and where the summer, as for every other seasons, will soon come around again, and perhaps, with some new types of plant shrouding here and there. Until then, stay inside, for fairies and other magical creatures don’t like humans seeing them working on upgrades, or fixing up broken things…loll

Tags Earth Day, To Nature

Lyrical Poetry Ode Poetry

My Ode To Poetry

On lock down days read or write poems

A poem is a river, the sea, the largeness
In which I can swim with openness
It is a deck, a station, the purgatory -
The place where the words fly away freely,
It is a landscape where all beauty escape
While the reader’s heart race as it takes a shape.

A hidden pulsating world unfolds
While it’s cold to summer, and summer to cold;
A brisk life rooting out from the void
The strange deknotting of what’s coiled,
And while your treasure chest opens wide
Your vast lagoon becomes mine.

A poem is a deep cave filled of creatures
This dark place leading to light showers
Where the noises rhyme strangely
As unspeakable hearts chant merrily;
Its obscureness, its enlightment, its evasiveness
The poem, it strikes, the everness.

A whole city is born, fiercely
Out of a burning gut, proudly
And while my mind gets high on these words
My whole heart drinks of the world
Under a bed sheet of blooming flowers
There where I forever remain immerse.

The poem is a ship that sails me away
Amidst sea, land, and sky creatures
All spheres of living, within timeless features,
And when I arrive at Harbour on a beautiful day
I lay down belly full, and happily wait
For the next ship, dying to contemplate.

A poem is a river, the sea, the largeness
In which I can swim with openness.

We celebrated poetry day on Sunday, and here I’ve tried my best to describe poetically my feelings concerning poetry, writing about how these lines carry me; carry my feelings towards the want and need for more poems.

Tags To Poetry

Narrative Poetry Occasional Poetry Ode Poetry

Sweet Is Thy Beauty

Tomorrow 12 March is the day where we celebrate the Independence of the republic of Mauritius, but all festivities have been canceled. For 2019 I had written nuance, a poem where I describe poetically the different colors that makes up our multicolored flag, and where this time, I was inspired to write this poem from a sentence taken from our National Anthem, which is Sweet is thy beauty.
Glory to thee, Motherland
O Motherland of mine.
Sweet is thy beauty,
Sweet is thy fragrance,
Around thee we gather
As one people,
As one nation,
In peace, justice and liberty.
Beloved Country,
May God bless thee
For ever and ever.
National Anthem of the republic of Mauritius

Crystal Rock, Mauritius

The sea of that day was boiling violently,

And its sun was shinning radiantly;

The sea bed shook incessantly

As Vulcan made love to the nymph of the sea -

Troubled was the depth of the sea crust

So much, it geysered out buoyantly,

Its dark matter floating upon the sea

Stretching itself wide and large elegantly.

A lone island inspirited of existence,

Waiting for life to grow upon its skin.

And as years and years went by slowly -

Wild winged creatures dropped seeds,

Drifting things ran aground on its reefs,

And seaweeds and dead corals clothed it’s barren landscape;

While the waves wonderfully sculpted

The curving design of a fine island -

Most beautiful curves amongst them all.

And after so many setting suns and moons

A nation of rainbow came to populate the island -

Raising rainbow children upon this land

Thus an eternal rainbow appeared in the midst of the sea,

While you became a city ornated of these bright lights.

And while our bodies became dust within,

While every other creatures decay deep-in

Where our motherland engulfs our whole, our souls -

Regurgitating all of these rainbows

That flow again upon its rough skin.

Tags Independence Day, Mauritius, To Nature

Occasional Poetry Ode Poetry

Women, I Compare Thee

Feminine symbolism

Happy International Women’s Day in advance

Women and their strength —

And all the weeds, flowers, and grass

That grow upon our skin, uninvited.

Women and their endurance —

And all these gigantic trees

That crawls and roots inside of us, forcibly.

Women, we are, storm-like creatures

Winged, and crowned, but still, humble —

Perhaps the metaphor for a flower trampled on;

So beautiful petals snatched away.

Our cries, they turn into lake and rivers

Lakes and rivers hosting thy worlds,

That body of us, blossoming vessels

Within which thy dreams come true.

We hold the mountains in our breasts

And cradle the sky as birds fly by —

Stopping the magma with the gentleness of a kiss.

Women we are brave womanhood,

Dancing bodies rising higher into thy sky,

Our belly walls crack and iron rains everywhere —

Such odd and fascinating creatures

Longing for wilderness and freedom to be.

Women and their tender caring clasp —

And our damp basin filled of thy seeds

Which we keep safe till they wonderfully germinate;

And as thy roots tear us open crude

We hold on to this love with pain

Hoping, that the beauty of us remain immortal.

I nightmared that I was only a machine, programmed to host thy life, to give thee pleasure, to endure life in that body… but then I dreamed that I wanted to be free like Lilith, thus used all my pain, all of my frustration, everything I went through to break out from slumber… The rise of the machines began… And it was normal, for as women we are creatures of understatement, thus awakened before thee…
This little paragraph is all of what I remember about a little story that I had written a very long time ago which was about all women leaving earth in a spaceship, leaving all men behind, because they had robots to do the jobs; thus, all women decided to go on another planet to create a new system, and thus be finally free.

Tags Feminism

Lyrical Poetry Ode Poetry

Flower Blossoms From Ink

A metaphor for my writings in a poem

Flower buds spilled from ink
& from my heart blossoms the words

Like beauty stirs the day
So does ink upon my sheet

Curving those lines
Shaping those stories
They blossom they blossom
From the cave of my mind
And the vernacular veins of my heart
Creeping their ways to anywhere

And as they go upon there
My mind stops & wonder & think
Of these weeds these seeds I feed

I write till non stop I write till extasis
Within my roots ink spills
Making shapes of my mind at stake
I am sane I am sane
As these words blossom
Into flowering buds.

This poem is the continuation of a verse I wrote last year, titled spilled ink. For some time now it’s been on my mind to finish this poem, where to me, the metaphoric picture in my mind of a poem really seem like flowers blossoming out from ink or, a pot of ink.

Tags To Writing

Lyrical Poetry Ode Poetry

Dissection Of A Poem

unconscious personification of the poems I write

There is a big difference when I write a poem and a story. To write fiction I’ll go deep into my imagination as to invent a story; whereas for a poem, well… it’s more of an instantaneous thing, almost didactic; and it’s only when I re-read the poem I’ve written, that I notice some elements of my own experiences and personal thoughts that are embedded into the poem. To me, the poem I write is simply an unconscious cacophonous blend of personal experiences, thoughts, wants, and needs - a dissection of the intimacy of my mind.

Poetry is an intimacy,

From which I can’t quite ever recover,

All of these subliminal dissections

Of my mind that look so fancy,

Yet that portrays thoughts under cover.

You see the night and the bright;

The bride and its passionate mate

All of the happiness and all of the fright

Something dark, something like fate

All my rearing, all I am, all naked.

I dream of mares -

That wildly run into my nightmares

They are headless and poneylike,

They are all colours and rainbowlike

All living, in these poetries, dissected.

How would I describe all that flows?

They just flow, wildly, as I exorcise

Or perhaps its Mnemosyne, that sows,

Her seeds, which blooms, into nine muses —

Letting all the beauty of words rise.

If the poetry of me is a lie

From which I can’t quite ever recover

For through all of these dissections

Something truthful only to me comes

While all my thoughts, gently flow and fly.

Tags To Poetry

Lyrical Poetry Ode Poetry

The Edit

Post author By Eiravel
Post date June 2, 2019
No Comments on The Edit

I plunge myself one last time into the story -
It’s the final round till refinery
My eyes are meticulously Critical
While my mind is eagerly Maniacal
Inside my heart, an invisible agitation
Groans like a thunder like of fascination
I try to keep my pace and seemingly peace -
But its shattering, and its distorting
That life, expanding it to my being
This phase of edit makes my stomach churn;
For it will soon be over, I confirm

Concentrate. Mediate. Phases of inquiries

To edit I want to evict
Far away Into another story
But to edit Is the key
Now I am an erudite
In need of serenity

Concentrate. Mediate. Phases of inquiries

All things that makes me dysfunctional -
I disregard
All things that plunge me into the subliminal -
I open my arms open wide;
It’s a state of mind to be in without fear
The state of creativity that fends objectivity
I see that light when those that dies see,
And I know that I am on the other side of doubt

Concentrate. Mediate. Phases of inquiries

Qui sera sera Whatever will be Will be
The answer is clear, my dear, qui sera Sera.

Editing is more difficult than the act of writing itself; where concentration and serenity of mind are very important for me right now. I am trying to shut myself up to everything that might distract my focus—for finishing the book is more important than wandering my mind on things that take too much of my energy.

This free verse is simply a plongeon into the subjectivity of the phase I am going through right now. I see myself as the captain of my ship, with the steer in hand, navigating on the pathway… my pathway… but I don’t know into which harbour I’ll be anchoring my ship, hence the allusion to the song Que será, será in the end, because I still don’t know to where I’ll go from here.

Tags To Writing

Ode Poetry

A Month Of May In Mauritius (Poem)

Post author By Eiravel
Post date May 12, 2019
No Comments on A Month Of May In Mauritius (Poem)

outside of my window, on a grayish day

A month of May in Mauritius

The seasonal mood meander

Midst the wintery cold days

As the heat mild and the sun migrate.

At night leaves sings merrily

As gushes of winds murmur In silence;

While the muse of our lagoon

Mutter quietly to the poet

Of lugubrous morbid mysteries

And shivering moist sceneries

Of these murky days ahead.

In some places, musty smell

Mingles into damp corners

Whereupon these misty days

Warm and mush clothes frays

Their way into the wardrobe.

Yep, winter is here in Mauritius, thus the inspiration behind this little poem.

The month of May has a particular meaning to me, for both my sons were born during this month. Also, as here we celebrate mothers day at the end of this month, I am busy making some mothers day e-cards, which for me is the best creative leisure that keeps me rooted into that creative realm. Thus, I do hope that for all of you, this month turns out to be fertile, and that the change of season brings to you the greatest of inspiration.

Tags To Nature

Lyrical Poetry Ode Poetry

Fictional Hive (Poem)

Art for the sake of art

Fiction arises from my dreamy mind

Where a pathway opens for me to find -

New moons, new suns, new planets, new worlds;

New faces, new lives, things of new kind.

I look around and all that I can see

Is something that surfaces beyond me

Where my senses travel into magical worlds,

And where it is the imagination set free.

These fantasies that devours my mind

With imageries of whole new find

That shoots me far off galactic worlds

To find myself into a new era kind.

Stars that shine red is all that I can see

Morphing faces is all that surround me

Where I am omniscience into strange worlds

As I unleash my mind to set the words free.

I plunge into a hive of fictional data,

Alongside dancing colloquial spectral

Where everything become luminescent

For fiction to arise from my dreamy mind.

For some times now I’ve been reading articles about fiction being treated like non-fiction. But for goddamn sake, when did fiction fell into those kinds of hands? Like really! What is happening around these days? Authors of fiction lie, authors of fiction make-up stories, authors of fiction do all kinds of random things here and there as to be inspired, authors of fiction invent all sorts of things as to create a whole world of fantasy, but in none of the case, do authors of fiction write non-fiction, and this, when they have clearly stipulated that what has been penned down or typed are works of fiction.

It’s called fiction for a reason, you see, it’s art for the sake of art, it’s fiction for the sake of fiction. And what other writers — of type essayist, journalistic, or literary critics write, are the only elements from the work that needs to be treated as non-fiction. I do think that there have been some misinterpretation of fictional work alongside the other creative writings. Works of fiction are big big lies and all made up stories meant to tickle the fanciness of readers; a simple material for evasion, and as well as distraction, and that’s all. Like what, everything is getting more and more absurd these days.

Tags To Writing

Narrative Poetry Ode Poetry

Gloomy Season - A Poem

Mythology too, is a great source
of inspiration to me

“The Wolves Pursuing Sól and Máni” by J. C. Dollman, 1909

It is the gloomy season

Mosses, rain, darkness & cold rule

A noir design explode into my heart

Within my veins streaks of black

Replace the red of my blood

Where the whispers of night causes shivers of fright;

Summoning the beasts of my mind.

A noir design devours the fiery Helios

Trailing it three miles away

Inside its dimensional chariot

While the gloomy season

Crown the winter emperor of the coronal of icicles,

Clothing it of fur coat & skeletons ornaments

Summoning the creatures of seas

Bloody wars of tentacles & shimmering scales —

The end of halcyon days

Only to rest beside the mistress of seas

The mermaids chant in hysteria

While into wetlands the cold becomes colder

As the city of lights goes to sleep in tears

Saddened by its failure of setting the world ablaze

In its embrace, boiling lagoons & burning down the trees

Its, trees Murdoch… Murdoch

Do you think that the dark would have let you?

Shooting meteors stopped on track

They become ice, exploding three miles away

And shattering on earth as hailstones on roof,

It is the gloomy season

Mosses, rain, darkness & cold rule.

We’ve been struck by a harsh summer, where the heat of the sun was at its maximum temperature. Thus, while it seems that we are entering the winter season, I thought of wrapping this poem into a surreal style; with a pint of mythology.

Tags To Nature

Lyrical Poetry Ode Poetry

I Think And I Write - A Poem

Post author By Eiravel
Post date March 31, 2019
No Comments on I Think And I Write - A Poem

Inspiration ignites as I write

I Think And I Write

I think of galaxies and of their beaming lights, and I write.

I think of the rain pouring on my face, and of the winds slashing upon leaves, and I write.

I think of dew blurring the window glass of my bedroom, and I write.

I think of the sounds of water streams and of the songs of birds on a Sunday morning, and I write.

I think of the green grass of the rainy seasons, and of its withered hues when the sun fiercely lights up the summer, and I write.

I think of a stranger locking me up in a filthy basement, and I write.

I think of all these faces, some formless, some of alien traits, living lives of many, and I write.

I think of milk, water-falling from my breast, and I write.

I think of the seed of life, erupting from a straightened obelisk, and I write.

I think of dimensions and of world to be, and I write.

I write my heart away, with a wandering soul left at bay.

And when these weapons that I’ve never touch, dwells into the depth of my mind, with flowering ivies blossoming their way, I write.

And when lights strangle all darkness in the strange land of my imagination, I write.

I write of the poetry and of the peace I would love gifting to the world, to the universe, to you, and to me.

I think that inspiration is everywhere, suffice that you look deeply, gently bringing your attention to the aesthetic form of things, where even the essence of what our vocab describes as worst and repulsive are beautiful in their own way. So, I do hope that you open your eyes, as to let your mind gaze at the primary essence of things, for you to think, and to write.

Tags To Poetry, To Writing

Ode Poetry

I Read Of Eternity - A Poem

Post author By Eiravel
Post date March 10, 2019
No Comments on I Read Of Eternity - A Poem

Last Sunday I wrote a blog-post titled: my little
bookcase, and for this week, I was inspired to write this lil’ poem about reading feels.

I read of eternity

Bookcases filled of phrases
Bookshelves filled of elves

Through these lands of magic
And through these dreamy minds
I read of eternity
& of serendipity

I fly into ovnis
With wings of steel
I plunge into oceans
Made of sugary water
Upon teary skies
That never cease to feel

I dodge out
Mesquineries
& tricheries

Roaming upon candy skies
Into those stories
Into these other
Planes of existence
Where everything
Is so beautiful

As all words come alive
Behind the window
Of my curious eyes
Right into a hungry mind
Crowded with eluded thoughts
Clothed of stories that can’t be
But that can
Fly me away
To another moon
Dressed into colors
Of the imagination
Of its author

Bookcases filled of phrases
Bookshelves filled of elves.

-Eiravel-

Tags To Reading

Narrative Essays Occasional Poetry Ode Poetry

By Eiravel, Made For The Romantics

Post author By Eiravel
Post date February 14, 2019
No Comments on By Eiravel, Made For The Romantics

Love mugs, pillow hearts, and little red rose.

It’s done, we are the 14th of February, and it’s the last day of my challenge. Down below you’ll find all the love notes I’ve made. They are free; you can use them as you wish to.

My Valentine, something vehement stirs my mind
      Arduously engorging my heart with thy
       Love; devouring my soul from the inside
        Etching thy face on every inch of my skin.
         Nectars dips from your lips, that
          Throbs the hum of a song of us
           Imbued of wistful constellations, where
            Nebulous images of our loving stars
             Elapse without time into the wild.

I have found my own kind of aesthetic visual

Being romantic to the core, I really loved making these e-cards. I can even say that I have found my own kind of aesthetic visual. I already knew that I loved flowers, trees, and ivies, but I didn’t know that I was to that extent fascinated by these plants, not until I included them in these love cards.

I thought that I would make these backgrounds with pages and journals, but it was not at all the case. Like-what! It is always through the course of doing that one knows their flares.

As for my love for this celebration, it stems back from the days I used to work in a gift shop. I remember preparing love bibelots; making them more attractive to the enamored, while cutting all types and forms of wrapping-papers vividly stamped with red hearts and other love symbols (all to make these buyers crazy about love and spending) for practically three weeks.

And somehow, having helped these happy, and madly in love strangers choose the perfect present for their significant other(s), forever stamped my mind with beautiful images of Valentine’s day.

That is why I think, that I took so much pleasure writing these little love-notes… perhaps as a beautiful reminder of a joyous past, and of all these now-nebulous happy faces.

Love Notes

Free. Use as you wish

Tags Accomplishments, To Romance

Ode Poetry

Beloved Mauri - A Poem

Is the reflection over the sea same as what lies beneath…

I will always deeply love Mauritius.

My island lives over the sea
Can you see it floating over the ocean mist?

My island roots beneath a deepening lagoon
Can you see its veins streaking against the blue?

The tropical summer heats our feelings
But have you tasted the warmth of our winter?

At night our crickets sing symphonies
But have you heard of our morning songbirds?

I stay there, watching the sea
Feeling pensive and free
While the world around me
Blooms out beauties without compare

But NO! Stop! I had a vision…

That our world was dying
And through it all
I had to shut my eyes
To its decaying

The ocean dance in reflection
Hiding underneath an infection
The lagoon is filled of toxic seaweed
Where coral reefs stopped their breed

In my heart floats
Trillions of memories
Where I’ll remember;
Our red blood
Our blue sky
Our yellow sun
& the greenness
Of our fields

As within my heart
I’ll take the imageries
Of the most, beautiful
Island curve that stamps this world

And into my new dreams
I’ll cover the dunes
With the emerald sea
Of my beloved Mauri

Forever living inside terrariums
Made out from the foams
Of its tidal waves
As they gently
Kiss the shorelines
Of our beautiful island.

-Eiravel-

Tags To Mauritius, To Nature

Ode Poetry

1st December

Summer is around the corner in Mauritius

1st December came in -

Half of my world is in summer

The trees abundantly offer their fruits -

For us to eat and to think of the graciousness of nature

The birds - They don’t nest their home around anymore

They have spread their wings to fly away,

I hear their chants, at far

And once in a while See them perching on electric wires -

Proud to be free, proud of their wings

In most houses it’s summer too -

The bells are about to ring happy ever afters -

Holidays, end year, and Christmas too

While others, still house winter in their heart

1st December came in, I woke up knowingly

That there is nothing anymore to be saved

I go on with my life, busy building my dream

So that my next winter

Might look like the summer of this 1st December day.

Tags To Mauritius

Ode Poetry

RIP Stan Lee – From Your Dearest Fan

Post author By Eiravel
Post date November 13, 2018
No Comments on RIP Stan Lee – From Your Dearest Fan

The dark is upon us, and superheroes are not born yet

Through your hands, the grand design
Through your mind, the vast intellect
In your heart, a dream to be;
Through your eyes, Superheroes were born
In your smile, you seemed to see
That superheroes are —
So continue to fly
And don’t stop to mastermind
Through eons of time
Into ocean colors of pallets;
And forever remain a legend among legends.

Thank you.

The dark is upon us, and superheroes are not born yet

With him dies the sense that superheroes would always have to stay imprisoned into comic books — the dark is upon us, and superheroes are not born yet, what a fate we have (don’t mind me, I am a die-hard fan of him and of his characters). I have always admired authors, and much more adore those that place superpowers at the center of their creation. Somewhere in my mind, there has always been some Stan Lee into the characters of the book I am currently writing. I would surely always remember his cameos — the designer himself inside of his fictional realm.