Best Imagism Poems
In riming realms
of crystal contemplations -
frozen water-vapor meditations
and chilled flutes
filled with zodiacal-light musings
of ancient cosmic dust
dancing in the arms of Sol..
windswept operatic reveries
rise and fall
as her stirring soprano
tickled by the chanting of icicle chimes
gathers momentum
in strengthening sprays
of frosted musical notes adrift in broken chords
she bestrides
a clouded steed colored mother-of-pearl
flowing with fury
within which beats a blustery heart
surging at jet stream speeds
on the clattering beat of hailstorm hooves
from streamer-skies of the northern dancers
they fly aloft
on arctic gales of lyrical laughter
igniting the imagination
of her freezing fire
burning now with a blistering whip
and a frostbite nip
that sinks its tingling teeth deep
sailing
a supernatural stage
amplifying—
her aerated soprano soars
in polar vortex arias
as an avalanche of glazed trinkets
—descendants of her fertile femininity
skydive
in shivering sixfold symmetry
falling
in fierce flights of fancy
as she cyclones on consecrated currents
with wild abandon
escalating
in twirling trills
of glass beaded squalls
swirling her iced eiderdown skirts aflare
baring tempest thighs
storming with a Siberian sting!
..and as her electric eyes spark
luminous with lightning
she buries you in a blizzard
of opalescent mistletoe berries
and wanton whims.
Eventide’s misty winds gently oscillate
Colorful clusters of crepe-myrtle flowers
Crowning atop rows of elegant tree-trunks
Blooms lavender, pink, red, and purple
Hanging in air from tips of twigs slender
Bowing to earth, donning green foliage
Arrayed in symmetrical flower-bouquets.
On a summer stroll, my hand you hold,
Gazing rhythms tilting back and forth
Swaying gracefully symphony of colors
As synchronized whispers merrily rustle
Echoing intentions of doting twilight sun
Beholden to season's gift of blossoms.
Gales now swirl, petite petals disperse,
Whirling confetti, drifting dances aerial,
Sprinkling fine motifs of tinted splendor
Twisting, turning, in eve’s amber passion
Flying all over, as we gaze, wooing love,
Where violet-sky above artfully evokes
Opaline glimpses of dreams ephemeral
Inscribed in spectrum on crimson horizon.
Written: March 13, 2021
Placed 6th: Submitted on October 14, 2022 to:
2022 Poetry Marathon Mile 17 Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Mark Toney
Poem of the day on March 15, 2021
Placed 1st: Flower or flowers in imagism form poetry contest
Sponsor: Constance La France
Placed 1st: All yours (March 17) by Brian Strand
...to the finessed fowl
humming by my ear tell me
Did anyone ever tell you
just how glad they are
to have you here?
Poignant eyes, azure crown,
that lightasapenny frame...
(how monstrous we must appear!
our human eyes like soccer balls)
We have only God to blame...
...and our senses to thank
for perceiving such a lovely scene
right here in our midst:
organic motors in a danceswirlblur,
taking quicksips of wine
through a toothpick straw
(do I need to make a list?)
Well, how about this:
pleasantly economical,
tenderly blue-breasted,
(quicker than a shuriken star?
you guessed it!)
And O how I would shield you
from anything that came your way
My palms would be your perch...
My fingers be your bars...
But alas, none such as you,
could ever be cast into a cage
(for the angels would rage!
and even the most committed readers
would surely turn the page)
But rest assured
I wouldn't dream deprive you of your feast
of purple watermelon splendor
(those pretty pearls of amethyst
are yours to conquer!)
O Caffeinated Contraption...
O Sweet Dream of Buzzing Thoughts...
You could be crushed like a pop can
at the flippant cruelty of man...
...but who would dare?
blasphemy to merely think it,
'twould be an acceptable breach of free speech
to burn the words that expressed it
(fly free, oh sweet heresy,
into the ashen breeze)
"There's nothing more beautiful than you."
said the God
who placed each feather in
with such gingercare
and thoughtful pause--
(His Cosmic Hands caught
in the Avian Lego Jar,
smirking at the plasticity
of His own laws)
Smile, O spring, smile, upon crimson arc of morning
Grinning through willows filtering golden sunbeams,
Sparkling from eyes of dew, glinting realms pristine,
Reveling through prairies, giggling tenor of streams,
Glistening core of purple-iris, soul of flaxen-pansies.
Waltz, O spring, waltz, shimmying blushing peonies,
Meandering with butterflies chasing nectar carefree,
Bouncing moods of bees from tree to flowering tree,
Elated strumming rhythms fluttering woody-foothills,
Grooving with meadows, humming lyrics of winds.
Sail, O spring, sail, rowing glee of seas-undulating,
Buoyant on spirits rushing from rivers, tributaries,
Traversing through terrains, once frigid, decaying,
Zealous now to venture, to rollicking side of being,
Surfing waves questing summer of sandy beaches.
Dream, O spring, dream, of mythical northern lights,
Glimpsed from garden of sumptuous white gardenias,
Through womb of dawn, hued in lavender of lilacs,
Preening beauty of flora, scintillating dawning aura,
As yonder of skies shimmers motifs of green aurora.
night snow
moccasin silent
drifts downward
landing without feet...
smiles in the sunlight
~ morning curtains peek
The raptor and the peacock hence,
Sit pensive on a rambling fence.
The first, inclined to be the host,
Jumped down to claim the nearest post.
The pea averse to snubs or quailing
Moves closer on the weathered railing.
Both immersed in trailing thoughts
Mused on nigh, and what was naught.
The Pea fans its tail in public splendor
Cramped raptor prefers an opposing gender.
He clasps a plume of gleaming thread
To implant it on his own stark head.
On and on, a grueling day
Feathers plucked; cold work at play.
Peafowl’s once featured feathered shafts
Now forlornly bare and subject to draft.
The predacious bird, a cocky thief
Snidely at par, to a native chief.
Clips of sun reveal a shadowy bane
The unlikely pair cast as one and the same
In a crystal vase, a flower bouquet I arrayed:
Iris flowers purple, yellow on its outer edge
Interlaced with a layer of tulips burgundy-red
Beholden to support of emerald green stems
And gracing the center are tall pink rose buds
Warning their sharp prickles not to interfere
With romantic dreams of a budding ruby rose
Unfolding slowly, and revealing just enough--
A mere glimpse at the stares of secret lovers.
You stand there, admiring symphony of colors
When evening sun peeks in, twinkling white crystal
As your smile evokes verses of love, divulging so little
Much like a first kiss, reluctant to say more.
June 23, 2019
Poem of the day on June 25,2019
Placed 2nd: Your choice flower verse contest by Brian Strand
Midnight rides—his pulse aligns with the thunder beneath him
fingers tracing her curves polishing fire into steel.
Wind against his skin she sings beneath him once more
Saturday mornings spent bathing her shine in devotion
One last glance—wait for me—before stepping inside
his grip firm not on the world but the rhythm of her frame.
The highway fades yet she alone knows the way home
rain or shine she waits unwavering at his door
Twilight drapes them in gold two shadows stretching as one
beautiful chrome heart racing—her name dissolving into the wind.
A muddy toad 'ribbits,'
before leaping away -
to which I ponder,
if fairy tales were true,
who's 'Prince Charming.' would you be?
I smile,
in the quiet pond's reflection.
I can see fading green leaves falling,
as petals wilt from red to rust.
Soft gold sunbeams caress ripples,
like little Autumnal whispers from
nature's story of seasonal growth.
Bare branches reach for the sky,
full of empty nests and bird feeders.
Lost in thought...
I wonder who knows their secrets
and where does the queen bee hibernate...
Colours of time nonchalantly drift by,
as daylight fades into clementine hues.
I bid kaleidoscopic Koi goodbye,
who pop to the surface with their
'gaping' motions, hoping for food.
Chill winds weave into indigo air,
floating through misty meadows -
crow caws can be heard from a distance.
Sky slowly forms sparkling spotlights
in a clear black backdrop,
where the whole of the moon is visible.
The toad returns,
now clean and shimmering,
but still no crown upon his slimy head.
We both sit and gaze in silence,
as stars shape into different forms.
I connect them like dots,
so many patterns appear -
a dove, an angel, a face.
"Hey prince of toads can you see the unicorn?"
I ask, before a flash of light bursts like a firework,
but all I get in return is a "ribbit."
Maybe he agreed, maybe he laughed,
maybe it was a profound message -
but we shared an air of magic that night.
Pull out the easel
set the canvas
positioned long and slender clean slate.
Sketch the figures huddled and dark-bound hostage
to charcoal-cooled coals
etching in shadow images;
Faceless entities
slipping in and out the background
earth-toned sojourners accepting, alone, quiet, dying;
Still the images in silence
hard and disfigured
grotesque horrors in place;
Somber soul-drained eyes
skeletal socket holes
buried in the heart and mind;
Let tears fall down their cheeks
in wonder, awe, and
fear of what happens next.
Acrylic primers dilute the wash in the storyline
flaking and cracking
tearing each soul and truth away;
Polyptych blended burnish bleeds
quiet, soft exuding
whimpered cries, asking why;
Chiaroscuro collages of death from life
fading to diluent breaths
the heartbeat of an unholy silence;
Graded gouache monochrome scraper boards
releasing sfumatos of singularities
communal lives sacrificed
Varnish the final rendition
camouflage the realities,
the actuality of what it represents,
Time immemorial in genocidal atrocities
of Native Americans, Cambodians, Hawaiians,
Jews, Rwandans, Bosnia, Darfur,.
When does it stop?
The never-ending list
life is more precious than this
until change comes
Paint the Picture Black and Gray
pray
then act.
I pause for a robin, musing on dogwood pink,
As red cardinal dashes-in, hops, hops, and sits,
Warbling of silken-rose blossoms of peonies
And fragrant white flowers of magnolia’s zeal
While you’re lost in waltzing yellow daffodils
Where sparrow is whistling flapping its wings
Amid birds chirping, rejoicing flowering trees
Gathering grass, twigs, weaving with beaks,
Enamored in courtship, dreaming of hatchlings,
As leisurely we stroll, exalting frolic of spring.
March 9, 2022
Poem of the day on March 11, 2022
Placed 1st: A Brian Strand 1093
Placed 2nd: Form I – Imagism – New Poem Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Constance La France
With mouth open wide
I swallow whole the moon
hoping to feel the tides
deep within the womb
of my feminine side
allow this man to bloom.
Pregnant with ideas
I am giving birth to poems.
These rocks, rivers and trees
are all my native homes,
a glossy jagged marble
to sanctify these bones.
So look above no more
upon the seas of night
to search for Luna, grand,
no orb will grace the sky
for I have snatched her fullness
and ate a great moon pie.
"In the echo of silence, the whispers of the Divine are heard." By Rumi
I entered the winding path into the captivating vale
Surrounded by ice-capped mountains and ancient trees
Firs, larches, redwoods, spruce, and ash, all grand
I shouted in glee: “I’m here!” All around some Echo replied.
A repetitive Echo, always vibrating and mesmerising.
What a singular sound to hear nature at its best!
I lounged beneath the shade of an old maple tree,
Where the verdant vale lay sprawled in front of me.
Balmy breezes blew through dark green trees, an Echo divine.
Tiny thrushes flitted from bush to bush.
They permeated the vale with their familiar songs.
Occasionally they rested on a dense bush,
Hush! Did I hear the song again?
Choirs of echo resounded all around the lush plateau.
Down on the majestic plain, a babbling brook meandered
Towards a clump of cottages, providing water for all.
The rivulet was a sight with fronds of ferns unfolding.
How delightful to hear the water emanating such dulcet echo
As the stream zigzagged around rocks and small waterfalls.
Every echo ended in silence profound and I was in God’s peace.
A holy hymn hummed serene: echo after echo, all divine.
Placed 1
I've somehow pondered about the
rush of air
of how I could be lulled on billows, and
yet,
its notes upon my flesh eludes me--
as if in midnight trailing, weeping in refrains
this cadence glides beyond
streetlamps
on to my litanies, my expectations, my
tears
until I'm drenched by a melody ambient
as the sound of breeze.
Like a rain-child born in January
with taps in my veins, I become
a listener of seasons' tingling tunes
which inhabit my thoughts : and to
know my heart's kept secrets are
cuddled through this rhythmic hisses,
arias of both my dark and lustrous hours.
Now I trace the reel of fleeting memories dating from youth to mid- adult...this old wind chime wrapped in chrome
and antique stones fondle
timeless music whipped by storms,
rhapsodies, deaths of my
life...a hanging rune delivering me
from all I must bear--
though owned by Mom's as a hoard or collection, it was my precious harbinger:
but it echoes no more
in spaces where I loved, and still
need to love back...
Gazing at this chime of four decades drifting gently on the room knob, it has
become mute, aged... but cared for like a most treasured keepsake.
Seasons
With a chill still in the wind, spring arrives
Clutching her white coat that slowly melts
In Sun's warmth, coaxing blossom's birth.
Humidity heavy with the scent of Jasmine
Announces summer's steamy footsteps
As ripe strawberries share sweet savors.
A harvest moon greets lovely autumn, smiling,
When her frosty breath changes verdant leaves
To glorious hues, drifting down, dancing to death.
When winter white fleeces her snowy shawl,
Maple trees share syrup from their vitreous veins.
Hearth's smoke rises above naked trees at rest.
4-4-16
~Third Place~
Contest: Seasons
Sponsor Shadow Hamilton