At last count Saturn had 293 moons
One is larger than Mercury, 128 solar system M & M's
But, if somehow we could mount his wings and fly there
We couldn't stand upon the surface and gaze at any
We would sink in the miasma of our own demise
Ingesting vapor rising up from far below
Choking off any aesthetics we might hold
For any goddess that we have imagined
Our ticket to this underworld held over
A head that's thinking we should capture Titan
Artemis, Diana, or Selene might pale before them
But wouldn't pale by what's reflected there
Artemis retaining her ire and her vengeance
Selene and Diana at the crossroads stand as well
Their color eclipsed the while they faded
And we, whose love it is to gaze up at their orbit
Would lose the inspiration of the ages
Aged without the grace of beauty's presence
That our small world o'er time has thus afforded
Size matters... but no more than our perspective
Stone, kissed by salt, sighs on the isle,
A Gothic spine, against the tide's guile —
eight centuries, etched in weathered stone,
A whispered prayer, a lonely throne.
Granite fingers, reaching for the sky,
Embrace the sun, as shadows fly.
As a timeless grace, the abbey stands as
A sanctuary in this watery space.
The sea, a restless, murmuring friend,
Whispers tales, to the tide's relentless end.
Each ebb and flow, a rhythmic beat,
A soul's lament, on an island's feet.
Columns rise, like ancient trees,
Reaching heaven in the salt-laced breeze.
Tranquil silence fills the air,
Faith's fragile bloom is beyond compare.
Granite heart, a watchful eye,
On shifting sand and moonlit sky.
Time, a tide, relentlessly sweeps,
The abbey stands; its purpose remains.
A whispered hymn, on wind-blown waves,
Hope, a beacon, on these lonely caves.
The abbey's soul, a steadfast light,
A testament, to human might.
SIMPLE AESTHETICS
fused elements
of flat-painted
colour
tensions
fit neatly
next to each
other
&
balance
atop
a flat plane
a modernist
sensibility
deceptively
locked
together
NOTE:THIS IS AN OPEN(organic) FORM VERSE using spaces&breaks without grammatical symbols ,the ' open' relies upon 'the one breath limitation' & so inherently requires the 'reader' (reciter) to input and responds thus making this enigmatic form a two way interplay & interpretatIon unique to the moment& changing according to mood is inherently variable.
Copyright © Brian Strand
all historical
tombs are beautiful they say
ego dead inside
21 June 2021
Everyone loves the piece
But the piece's mouth's
Worth no kiss.
Ain't that the trick of the pen?
Not being poetic; rather, aesthetic.
The other side does not know
It is not raining over here.
A fast one nature pulls on us
Sometimes out there.
Not being poetic; rather, aesthetic.
Dark is safe
When two pliest
The day may not save
When one defiest.
Even when shadow falters behind.
Ain't that the trick of the mind?
Not being poetic; rather, aesthetic.
Lost in low, a wandering soul
Till the moving wheel
splash the flow
Why do the heels feel so low
Only when the odd changes role?
Ain't that the freak of the roll?
Not being poetic; rather, aesthetic.
internal dialog,
words theres, nowhere else,
forever lost
& now I'm alone
Quantifying Art…
quality by the pound
Feelings like hair, part
—separation profound
(Villanova Pennsylvania: November, 2015)
with one small step at a time I will change and cherish each endeavor
12/30/2018
Her cursory gaze is like the impenitent sun,
Her brave speech are edified like sindey.
Her eyeballs kindled the fire of fun,
And ushered the lucky man into glory.
Her hips are attractive like the plains of
paradise.
Her bowels are contended with wealth and
fortune.
She frown-ly smile like the queen of
franchise,
Enslaving the soul of bewitched juvenile.
Her twinkling teeth are gloriously exposed,
When she parted her two lips like the red
sea.
They boomed bright beckoning to toad,
Pulling a million eyes to behold and see.
Her wild grin magneted my heart,
And enjambed it to her social world.
I felt relax living in her smiles,
Because they strangle my conveteousness
and swap it for joy.
Do not away with me, oh beauty of
damsels.
Fasten unto me like bolts of curtains.
Bewitch me with thy qualities, pretty lassie.
That success may tarry in my custody like
'ROSE OF SHARON'.
C.2017
Wealth of glassy hues
Infinity in bubbles
Multicoloured news
__________________________________
May 25, 2016
For the contest : Glass Art Haiku
Sponsor: SKAT A
Date on first poem: 7/05/2015
A man who had been living in a dream
Finally woke up from the ignorance,
In the time when he saw the dream lover running through a distance
He was frantic, immersed in turmoil
For a moment he understood the essence of being abandoned
An old memories...
Confiscate the story about the hidden feelings towards the hemisphere of soul
And somehow the existence of her tides cannot be described and lingered
Naivete against the sense which deems simple
Brought a deep lost which was so devastated
A weaker, who was trying to live as a strong character
A warm smile which conceal all the bitterness which incomprehensible
A person whose so close, yet too far to be owned
And she is the the owner of his dream
Eventually he was just stopped, stood on the spot where he gazed his paradise gone
As he was smiling for her happiness
Wish for his dream lover to pursue her own happiness
And again he just stood on the edge of his nerves and broke down ...
A love that unspoken ...
A latent desire ...
A glazed stare that could not reveal his pain ...
And only the land where he stood became the silent witness of the bitterness ...
An aesthetic which presented through the dark side of a love ...
I hate the frail cattail
beside the lake--it grows too tall.
yet the sparrow
loves it--he doesn't fall
from that which gracefully
supports his weight.
What's there to hate?
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