Arching Poems | Examples

Ying or Yang?

New eyes slowly open,

White light softly greets them.

New life will be copin',

Am I uhh...Her...or uhh...Him?

Mother's milk...suckled sweet.

Tasty! But a little crude!

An arching stream floods their feet,

Guess I came out...uhh...Dude!

When My Life Changed

In the diaphanous domain 
of the sapphire serene night,
the drizzle of moon’s silver sequins,
defining the existential epithet 
of the dulcet melodic cadence, 
adorned the pearl-laced waves 
of the rolling sensuous sea, 
spread seamlessly before me, 
beyond the baroque shore, 
where I sauntered only with me
in the corridor of the musical mind, 
followed the tune of soulful symphony. 

The rain-washed sparkling sky, 
spreading the suffusing spectrum 
of my kaleidoscopic opulent dreams, 
weaved the tapestry of fantasy
with the lattice of chromatic imagery. 
The surreal strings designed the splendor 
of the charismatic rainbow motif, 
arching over the halcyon horizon 
that beckoned me to the concert of being, 
let me feel fascinated the vibrato of life.

In the whirlpool of turbulent times, 
swirling with the miasma of despair,
I turned the dented emotive impulse
into the lyrical crescendo of concerto. 
On its sonorous serenading wings  
I flew in the rhapsodic sky of sonata 
to the harmonic realm of afflatus, 
realized the essence of the nascent notion 
that life is a song.
That’s when my life changed.

I am Green

I hide beneath oceans deep where mysteries peep.
I dwell amid the arching spectrum of rainbow hues
Some slander and call me ‘green eyed jealousy’
All I do is make this earth cheery to everyone's eyes.

I am the harbinger of the burgeoning spring.
I’m everywhere, even on a seemingly barren hill top,
I’m in trees and grass, crowning and carpeting the land. 
To ailing spirits, I’m balm. To peasants, I’m hope. 

I am the lovely garb God gave the earth to wear.
Due to misuse, it is now under wear and tear!

BIBLICAL MORNING

BIBLICAL MORNING
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
sunrise
eastern horizon
rainbow arching
hope

In a forgotten corner of the world, where silences stretch like a carpet of mist

In a forgotten corner of the world, where silences stretch like a carpet of mist,
My thoughts wander among the ruins of lives scattered by the wind,
Reminding me that wisdom and madness dance hand in hand,
Like two shadows merging under the pale light of an eternal sunset.
In the silence of an endless night, I contemplate the broken destinies,
A silent song of those who fell prey to their inner storms,
For only when ruin touches our own being do we truly understand,
For only then do we see clearly that the lost ones are our unknown brothers.
In the shadow of an existence unraveling like an old canvas,
I realize that the drunkards, the mad, the prisoners, and the dreamers are part of us,
People who wear invisible scars like medals of destiny,
They are as commonplace as a rainbow arching after a storm.
Memories intertwine like threads of silk in the wind of time,
And I understand that every ruined life is a story worth hearing,
For in their fragility, we find the reflection of our own searches,
And in the fragility of a shattered dream, we find the strength to be reborn.

Niagara Falls

Niagara Falls

Aboard the Maid of the Mist, drenched from the spray,
Approaching Niagara Falls, I gaze in awe
At this wondrous sight of the renowned cataract,
Cascading fervently over the precipice
And violently crashing down upon the rocks
In a roiling boil is mesmerizing to see.

And behold! Out of the mist a rainbow appears,
Arching a span over the turbulent waters
From where thunderous roars are heard and eddies swirl
As if the heavens opened: “The Rapture is here!”
With angels descending to carry Christians home.

And I am small amongst giants (walking in the world
Defenceless against nature’s challenging forces),
Who will read “Insignificant” etched in my headstone.
Unlike those who think their works will last forever,
I’m like Niagara, trickling into the future.

A Nurse Dies in a Far Away Land

The leather tethers kept loosening.
I had to pull at them until
they dug into your body
binding you to a rocking cross.

It was all for nothing
you died snapping at unseen knives,
arching up, bending time into
frozen waves.

You once said you were Irish/Scots,
Appalachian.
You called yourself: Applachan.
Sinewy girl --- wiry poppy stems
in you, and engine oil
to soften tenacious roots.

The fever racked you up.
It shook your bones loose.
It blossomed,
pouring you out
in thimbles of awareness.

In those intervals,
blue hills filled your eyes
with summer rain.
I would talk to you of Ireland.
We went there on that last night.
We made a hasty camp
in the dream felled woods,
the deep raw stumps
were already greening.

Then I watched,
and kept watching
as feeble death broke its teeth
on your blood.

Lovely weather for Dunners' ducks

Lovely weather for Dunners' ducks (tongue in cheek peek at Dunedin's historic deluge)


"Stares upstairs..

Angels’ weeing above..

Be a good chap..

Show some love bruv..

Turn off the tap..

*****
No refuge from the subterfuge of the deluge..

Parched sandbag phalanxes..

Ranks marching in flanks..

Arching across busted banks..

Quaffing..scoffing..downpour spanks..

**********
Disbelief at the leisurely river Leith..

Despairing at it baring...glaring..teeth

Hurling....haring to unsheaf grief..

Mischief rashly unfurling…

Brashly whirling beneath.

Bawdry..tawdry thief...

******
Baffled..can't they see...squiffy South D in a jiffy downed..

Snaffled..drowned and raffled to the sea..

Don't they care...iffy white caps slaps..won't perhaps spare even sniffy..

Snooty..spiffy St Clair..

****
This rain ruckus.. pluvial palaver...

Whichever not whatever...

It totally sucks..

Planet forever in..

Fluvial flummoxed flux..

Tis rather lovely weather..

Though for Dunedin's ducks.."

Seduction Interruptus

She throws herself at the feet
of the unimpressed—
rolling, rubbing and yowling,
an opera of yearning
for the neutered elite.

They blink, stretch, then saunter off
for another nap
on the sun-pooled sill,
leaving her to flirt
with the legs of chairs.

Bewildered by the bopped nose,
the rebuffed overtures—
arching and warbling,
tail high with invitation—
she meets only
indifference or disdain.
Again she circles,
unsure if maybe
she’s doing it wrong.

Mid-kitchen now,
she flops down wailing
betrayal in the key of estrus,
as if to say:
Was it something I purred?

Night

The seduction of a feel,
Of a flower,
Of deep night.
When
I think of catching the spirit,
Of the
Night.
Over there
On the
Palm
Over the stairs.
If i could catch
That
Slump
Into a gaze.
Encryption
And
Put it in a
Vase…
Bottle…
Paper…

The touch, so deeply desirable,
The bloom is opened,
Especially in the kind dark.
Reaching
For the comfort of this living ghost,
That
Warms the evening.
My view is
Of the
Arching branch
Sheltering the walkway.
With
Graceful sway
It enlivens my spirit.
Few, perhaps only one
Feel
The sensuous art
Of phrase...
Of hand...
Thought convoyed by eyes only...

Collaboration Amethyste & Jim Musics

rainbow bridge

rainbow bridge arching
tokyo connection
doubledecker link



AP: Honorable Mention 2025

Sunflower

In the blithe breeze
A baby’s hand opens to the light.
In a daze, the radiant blaze, towering flower
arching toward the golden solar rays.
In a time-lapsing daydream, it rises, stretches 
and unfurls, soaking in and beckoning the sultry Sol,
the simmering summer Sol.
No wonder it is seen as good luck.
First conceived in childish crayon,
It bears the ragged, jagged edges
of toddler joy, of a blunt golden celebration.
Clutch it to one’s chest,
the Raggedy Ann blossom,
the perennial of laughter and glee,
great daisy pregnant with seed!

Arching Colors

"When it rains, don't look down on the puddles below and lament, but once the rain subsides, look up to see the rainbow arching in the sky and rejoice." ~ By Poet

Lo! A spectrum of arching colors
in the misty cerulean sky-
A rainbow- nature’s lovely poem,
written on the wide canvas.
God’s benevolent gift	graciously bestowed, 
on a clear evening, after a light drizzle!

HIS SKY ARCHING CANVASS

                 HIS SKY ARCH CANVASSING

Seeded
by seminal rays 
of sunshine
out of
the pregnant
womb
of breaking
water,
she comes;
doming over
the throne
of earth;
no less
than always
her crowning
has been
a reflective
multi-hued
   bouquet
   only god
   can gather
   and
   gloriously
   arrange;
   as old
   as time
   but not
   altered by
   its history
   is her
   everlasting
  hemispherical
  radiance;
from time 
immemorial
the world
has been
privileged
to see
her radiant
colorful
glow:
nothing
has been
as beautiful
as god’s
creative
cosmic 
rainbow:-

Dance of the Buffalo

In a canvas alive with whispers of green and blue/
 A giant buffalo stands, proud, bold, with majesty pride/
Its horns, like arching galaxies reach for the sky/
The buffalo stands, proud, bold, a spirit true  in hues that electrify the vibrant African plans long and wide/
  Against the vibrant tapestry he commands your  sight, a symbol of strength, a guardian of the night/
 With every stroke of color, the heartbeat of the wild, a masterpiece of nature, untamed and undefiled/
 Two black birds, guardians, perch near its might, they dance on the buffalo, in the soft morning light, Contrasting silhouettes, sharp against the hue, they whisper stories of the earth, in the vast African blue/ 
 For in this vivid moment, in this sacred space, lives the spirit of the buffalo,  his the freedom we embrace/
  In the dance of the buffalo, where nature's voice resounds/ African history must be recognized as the birthplace of all humankind/

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