Elements of earth, water, fire, wind/air and spirit (inner/outer energy, mindfulness) was the inspiration of the recent poetry challenge held on October 2024 of our ILA Facebook Group.
Poets were to choose one element and write about it. Below, are the poems we chose to feature. "THE WIND" I'd be the wind, ready to lead the way Where the elements of nature glide: Fires burn, spirits rise, and waters sway. You can tag along to see what lies outside; Wild ocean waves frothing on the beach, Nothing Arcadian in my restless reach. Some days I would be that fierce wind Carousing shamelessly, dancing to tunes. I would sloom, caressing your mind, Or rage unconsolably like typhoons - Grabbing anything that isn't nailed down; Febrile, and pulsing through each town. I'd be a whirlwind of intricate memories; Years and seasons dutifully swept away, The remnants of a hurricane,
Rapt stories of soon forgotten moments on display. You'll know I have visited when you see Autumn trees stripped clean of leaf and fruit. I'd be that Eldritch feeling, looming over A world asleep, awaiting morning's light. A gust of Studious atmosphere that hover, Blowing through the campus all night. I'd be beneath your wings, make you soar High above fate's mysterious shore. © Liberty Bassey "THE ELDRITCH BREATH" (Villanelle) Through febrile nights it slips unseen, An Arcadian hush disturbed by sound, While sloom drifts thick through woods of green. Studious shadows trace a sheen Of trembling leaves on spectral ground; Through febrile nights it slips unseen. In rapt embrace of worlds between,
An eerie murmur wraps around, While sloom drifts thick through woods of green. Eldritch whispers wind, serene, With ancient songs in haunted round; Through febrile nights it slips unseen. Arcadia's veil, a waking dream, Bewitched by forms the dusk has found - While sloom drifts thick through woods of green. A fevered pulse, a fleeting gleam, The night falls soft without a sound; Through febrile nights it slips unseen, While sloom drifts thick through woods of green. © Concetta Pipia U.S. "CARVER OF THE SPIRIT" Modeller sloomed to sculpt Through an alluring melody Rapt with a desire! Highly in a febrile state Sculpture felt emotional With an Arcadian spirit! Now sculptor seemed an eldritch With a mask to hide his pain! He was lost in those waves of grief! Did he sculpt all his treasures of love From his heart into the cast Of craft, very delicately like a treasure? Sometimes, I have carved all my deepest Warmth into a model, which I couldn't enact! Will I ever be myself or just be a maker??? © Sonal Rao India "LIQUID OF LIFE" I rise a new dawn sneaking out of the febrile darkness, I give last makeover saying adieu to interminable sleep. I adorn the green carpet with rapt reflection under the emerald towers, I cook the meals of hard work from the grains of Arcadian landscapes. I hug with open arms the eldritch horror in flames, I address the goblet of potion as holy drops of all faiths. I pour down the rare gems unfurling the sea of emotions, I fill the crude crannies carved on the face of globe. I sloom to spread the new colours across the worn out visages, I am the ink of the planet holding the studious taste of Nature. I am the liquid of life I am WATER. © Rafiya Sayeed Jammu/Kashmir, India "ABOUT FIRE" It is so febrile At first, it is Arcadian Then, it may become sloom. In both cases, it keeps as being eldritch Burning all and then coming back to life. We are studious, learning If we pour over fire water or if we let the fire consume us. The fire is rapt in human beings As a flame or as ash. © Bogdana Gageanu Romania "THE ARCADIAN GARDEN" You lie, slooming, half awake, half asleep, Dreaming of trees and animals, dotting the green Earth. In your eyes are caged the free birds, rapt in animated pleasure, Flying with feathers spread-eagled, trying to cover feisty rays of the sun. The eldritch waves, advancing menacingly, with their coiled fangs, Grovel in despair, on the beach, in mortal fear of your coiled hair, Like a stylish coiffeur, perming the wayward strands studiously. When you speak, words flow like sweet ambrosia; Or, like a crooner, belting tunes to the beat of the percussionist. Don't go by my face; I'm not sad, but mad-madly in love. You're the virgin earth, the Arcadian garden, before the legendary fall. © Kalucharan Sahu India "IGNITE" There was a despondency A slumberous sloom to me, As I laconically whispered Around an Arcadian idyll, Languorous, lazy Not animated or febrile. Something eldritch I'm a spectre on the breeze I longed to let go; be wild, Yet hardly dared to breathe Waiting with a studious belief. Fire... Oh God, here is Fire! I am Air! I am rapt with tingling anticipation The excitement flaming, Energy igniting With uninhibited exhilaration, Two elements Coming together, A catalyst; raw passion Magnetic, ferocious, Forever Loving... Forever Clashing © Rhiannon Owens UK "WATER BY CHANCE" The leaves with smiling eyes, On glowing faces are still slooming. The sun, rising smartly Makes them feel febrile, Despite being generous out and out, They get burnt to ashes helplessly. I'm water, an Arcadian, by chance, I'm rapt in their eldritch consequence. From the Kingdom of clouds, I'm more studious to shower on them. © Tapas Dey India