Photo of fireworks display‘Fireworks Burst’ by Cyrus Jalinous The Society December 31, 2019 Beauty, Culture, Poetry 6 Comments ‘Tis late now in the balmy eve, without the slightest stir, When lighter than a hot balloon cuts through the humid air Such light through dusk that becks the dawn like some dry burning fir, Streams freely, past high up the noir chalkboard, from rockets’ glare. Mock lightning sparks, loud thunder strikes, skies glow, electric snow, As cardboard comets launch into convolving, sparkling show. From old Medieval China the infernal creature hails, Where worked a frenzied chemist, searching immortality. Saltpeter, charcoal, sulfur coarsely mixed, his potion fails, And blast! kaboom! boom! found he crackling whimsicality. Thus, Fate unleashed surprising doomsday hellfire, save dismay, And Earth knew no more glorious spectacular display. This hour, one feels celestial in these projectiles’ blaze, What long the ancients understood, true cosmic comity, Wherefore to mark phenomena dart swiftly in the haze, Whereby grows patriotic pride from spectral unity. Those zipping, whistling, night-lights herald exultation grand, And splatter, scatter jubilation, seen across the land. What miracle mere pasteboard holding pyrotechnic stars, Quick cast aloft via propulsion, launched like arrows true, Succeeds in poking aerial expanse, halfway to Mars, Combustibles slick snap bombastic energy anew. These merry missiles mimic supernovae, darts, spry bombs, Explosions charring song in hearts and itches in the palms. The sight delights, ignites the firing neurons of the brain, Like static shock, excites the wiring, joy as with a kiss, Or when the palette tastes some foods most flavorful, not plain: Ambrosia sweet, chop suey saporous, rich gumbo bliss. As can pop candy in one’s mouth much boost sensation fine, Such shooting stars invite always elation quite divine. Oh, how they streak so gracefully with choreography, Fast filling up the inky empyrean flawlessly, Lush brightness blows, exposing over brush geography, With shapes unique as types of pasta, all dance saucily. The varied vivid hues well bleed and blend in mugginess, Their pomp felt coolly breathing breath through summer stuffiness. Their arcane elemental mixture magical to ken, Aluminum smiths silver, Barium mints green, alas, For orange, Calcium, while Copper conjures azure, then, As Iron forges glints, so Sodium yolks gold first-class. By masters, comely tints right made through preparation prime, The chief among them red, white, blue for celebration time. More colors bold arise: champagne, pink, tourmaline, each shade, Soft beige, calm turquoise, malachite, chartreuse, lime, emerald, Pristine mauve, lilac, lavender, magenta, purple, jade, Cerulean, teal, periwinkle, scarlet, marigold, Persimmon, amethyst, puce, fuchsia, cyan, peach, cream dyes, All auras of aurora frolic, sway in dreamers’ eyes. They gambol all, each creed and kind: discs, button ribbons, rings, Strobes, Catherine wheels, chrysanthemums, firm Roman candles, too, Kamuras, peony blooms, crisscross-fractal crossettes, wings, As well as screaming spiders, horsetail shells, and cakes in view. All wondrous gizmos prompt crescendo up the pinnacle, Match any antique song or ornate banner principal. It’s flash! bam! alakazam! up the onyx colored sky; Angelic gems, whole lot resembling shiny opal crisp, Undamaged stretch of raven atmosphere bedecked thereby, And echoed clatter, clamor, ringing din heard wisp by wisp. Bring they such brash cacophony, from which no soul may hide, Like manic drummers sticking solos to the welkin wide. A smoldering aroma wafts enchanting scents above, As all the streamers, sparklers, flashing pom-poms come to rest, As so does too the powder, dust, and crispy smoke thereof, All blazing chandeliers and flaming flowers shown top best. The surge of spirit charged cannot be found within bookshelves, For, like all things, us stardust shine, and recognize ourselves. Man craves petite Big Bang, the birth of universe: first first; His inborn rushlust thirst draws him to witness fireworks burst. Cyrus Jalinous is a freelance artist/writer born, bred, and currently residing in Washington, D.C. Jalinous is studying Film and Visual Media at the University of California, San Diego. He is finishing his debut book, Peaches & Dreams, a collection of poetry. NOTE: The Society considers this page, where your poetry resides, to be your residence as well, where you may invite family, friends, and others to visit. Feel free to treat this page as your home and remove anyone here who disrespects you. Simply send an email to email@example.com. Put “Remove Comment” in the subject line and list which comments you would like removed. The Society does not endorse any views expressed in individual poems or comments and reserves the right to remove any comments to maintain the decorum of this website and the integrity of the Society. Please see our Comments Policy here. Share this:Click to share on Twitter (Opens in new window)Click to share on Facebook (Opens in new window)Click to print (Opens in new window)Click to share on LinkedIn (Opens in new window)Click to share on WhatsApp (Opens in new window)Click to email this to a friend (Opens in new window)Click to share on Pinterest (Opens in new window) 6 Responses Mady Jalinous December 31, 2019 Excellent poem, inspiring and heart warming! Reply Sally Azar December 31, 2019 ‘Bring they such brash cacophony, from which no soul may hide, / Like manic drummers sticking solos to the welkin wide.’ and ‘Man craves petite Big Bang, the birth of universe’. A very joyous read! Reply Susan December 31, 2019 Beautifully and vividly stirs the imagination! Delightful! Reply nima moghaddas December 31, 2019 Beautifully written. Reply C.B. Anderson January 1, 2020 If I were to overlook the inscrutable meter, the jumbled syntax and the gratuitous diction, then I might be able to agree with the comments above. I used to love pyrotechnic displays, but now I’m not so sure. Reply Monty January 14, 2020 Phew! I feel like I’ve just exited a maze of incoherent diction. At one stage, I wondered if I’d ever find my way to the exit. And one commenter described this frenzied ramble as ‘beautifully written’. Ye gods . . Reply Leave a Reply Cancel ReplyYour email address will not be published.CommentName* Email* Website Notify me of follow-up comments by email. Notify me of new posts by email. This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.