Degenerate house filled with ancestry
one short hand stretches from statues to shame
pervading loose boundedness within the same
or toward less classical geometry
on this continuous interplay to show
how apotheosis may interchange the crow
this desire between rough designs, I try
to withstand its whirlwind and real rephaim
into flexible modules overclaim
terrain through the abundant baptistery
we have dispersed vital functions for coe
by distinctive architectural doe
we provide few clues from dictionary
this situation contracts markedly beldame
Architectural and Dogs
A large house on one floor with a multi-shaped roof
a myriad of inside doors fit for slamming when
House guests occupy all seven toilets
The owner of this house is a semi-retired person
Who, after creating a human, fails like
Elon Musk with his exploding rockets
The gorillas were such an attempt, but he was
kind and let his mishaps live in the deep jungle
Well, his foray into the architectural business failed
He took retirement but kept an eye on his dogs
Dogs? Yes, he created dogs for humans who
might find loving another human, not wanting
to kill the other, find ample time for many hugs
and cry proper tears at funerals
Quiet porch and a lazy chair,
sitting for a while is a song.
A blue collar stereotype.
Highlights visible from the air,
bold italics will show up strong.
Iconic, working that pinstripe.
Dusk saunters in devil may care,
sizzling whatever could go wrong?
Tipple a taste of this peace pipe.
Like a view of the county fair,
the big girl rides go all night long.
Such fine architectural hype.
I have built my diorama,
a caricature of drama.
A marvel of architectural grace
Needle-ended arches touching the space
Vaults that look imposed and superimposed
Ribbed ends that kiss the corners, hawk-nosed
Ornate spires like jewel fabrication
Fine flecks and fancies with fascination
Each segment shines with mystic touches.
Fusing faiths of temples, mosques, and churches
Serpents slither here. Scorpions hide beneath our bed spreads.
Spiders, bugs, sticks, ants, and centipedes occupy our beds.
We have coasts. But what use of these? They burn with sultry heat.
Pirates sail to our harbours with their armour-filled fleet.
Predators of all kinds have filled our once lovely islands.
Where, once, flora and fauna flourished, wattles and burrs shake hands.
Our architectural castles seem to crack and collapse.
Dilapidated sanctums of temples reveal time's lapse.
Archaeologists try to explore our mausoleums.
They find noxious inland Taipans in murky museums.
Dogs bite their masters; cats, like tigers, cull their lords with claws.
Cows, bulls, and goats butt, stamp, and pin their herders for no cause.
Arrogance and aggression emblazoned by humankind
Their hearts and minds by evil thoughts, words, and deeds are maligned.
This place too is made by God, I know, like other places.
But, to cut the heads of others, here, each one runs races.
He took me sightseeing
Hand in hand
Smiling bright
Eyes for each other
To the city of his dreams
Navigating the twists and turns of the streets
Awed by the sights and sounds
The majestic buildings
Their architectural splendour
Where history whispers
And echoes through its corridors
We stopped by a quaint cafe
Enriched by the experience of it all
Little fires put out here or there with ease
There's a big blaze over there with high wind
Contained only by some people you send
Can big blazes be stopped destroying trees
Time, effort with loss of lives and much more
Blazes are definitely not asked for
_Ole days gone with architectural frieze
Little fires, big blazes slowly take hold
World being lost to evil, hearts turned cold
Seems world overtaken by swarm of bees
Is there a solution to all questions
Let's make a reasonable suggestion
When Jesus comes, tempter's power broken
And humanity will be awoken
The Mesopotamians,
The birthplace of writing, building the ziggurats and palaces.
The Greeks,
Warriors and philosophers, diverse in their ways of thinking.
The Romans,
Masters of conquests and destruction.
The Egyptians,
With creative minds and architectural prowess.
All are different and diverse.
But they still all believe that they are the one.
They believe that they are the protagonists of our world.
Portraying their stories in their own immaculate light,
Shining in their versions of stories mixed with lies,
As the centre and hero of the story.
I had been feeling
In my childhood
Though I enjoyed their chirp
Of these little birds
How much they disturbed
During my time of studies…
They made their nests
As the best of builders
With architectural perfection
And pristine beauty
Within each window
Of my house those days
Dark brown-black bib male
Light brown, no black bib, female
Chirping and chattering
Like lovers
Romantic
Is it not?
They spread plant seeds.
The scientists say
They make
Climates around us flourish.
Weather professionals say
They are eco-friendly.
Of late -
I found them decreasing in number.
They said:
It's owing radiations.
I felt sad.
Though I understood everything
Lately -
I found one struggling to fly.
Amidst a gigantic dust storm
Wings broken
Struggle for existence
It could not feel fittest
As thin as an unnoticeable shade of the sunbeam
I see your shadow flying with you as fast as your flight.
It is the particles of sand, dust, and water that gleam.
As an imperfect mirage when the sun is very bright.
Do you, by your shadow, reveal my love that often blurs?
That appears and disappears with its fancy flimsiness.
Or do you point out the moods of my madam, who prefers
A man with mammon, magnetism, might, and magnificence
Your shades have mystery, mythology, and melody.
An obsession for identity in your fury flows
Though it seems a glow show, you have traces of tragedy.
Architectural arts and monumental modes disclose
Merged within your shadow are aspirations. abundant,
With her, as a storm, tempest, or gale, you are triumphant.
I approach the wooded trails and hear nothing save for my footfalls crunching in the soft snow. It is the kind of winter day that even a feather falls without drifting one way or the other. The trees stand straight, tall, and silent, their branches appearing as if they’ve been painted there. The water in the nearby stream is crystal clear and motionless, reflecting the cloudless morning sky. It was still, utterly still.
crystal waters flow
reflecting winter’s stillness
peaceful Christmas scene
Copyright © Sara Etgen-Baker | Year Posted 2023
A loud string of clear down-slurred two-parted whistles reach my ear. There is a little red cardinal tucked between thick foliage. Its an architectural beauty, an inquest. He looks at me with two round eyes then shows me a circular world made up of silence and noise. We are standing on a precipice of the Sacred. A unanimous ground holding space with Nature, Creature & Human, alike.
winter evergreens
snapshot of a Cardinal
perched on my nightstand
A single note
Just starting with a single note.
Drawn to the vibration
Then another, ally, companion.
These two becoming firm friends
As others come to join the fray.
Repeating and finding new meaning,
Never quite knowing their course
Yet their purpose so sure.
Allowing the sound to penetrate
Lighting the fire in the belly
As another note is plucked
From obscurity
In another’s train of thought.
Together yet apart.
Volume and intent mutate
Organically growing to finally,
Eventually and climatically
The air thick filled with fever.
Harmony between the entities
As a hive mind yet each as one.
From single note to final melody grown,
Raw, unrehearsed crescendo
Capturing a moment in time never duplicated.
When you hear the noisy
of weaverbirds in savannah
and
forests,
you just smile the whole day.
When you look up
and
see how they built
their nests
on the long trees,
Oh! You get astonished by
their architectural instincts.
July 20/2023
From the Milky Way’s canvass
swerving like red wine in glass
dancing to the midnight blues
traversing the utopian realm
of one awed by universes architectural arcs
Flip-flap swings across its axis.
delivering spasms to the feeding eyes
yawning for a closer gaze
with an Oliver twist, I need more
heart racing, mind panting
skin sweating, hungerily awaiting the night ball
at noon’s court
It is mine; it is ours.
an artful slither of a thought
If breakfast were served later
let’s eat dinner early.
for the strength of yesterday’s meal
withstand tomorrow’s pain.
fruitful hope and menacing desire
kills a man before his time
But hell is hell.
Even if today's right is lost in tomorrow’s storm
His demise, A beginning of another’s.
Bejeweled, in and out of the Gothic architecture,
Conceived by Abbot Suger, through a constant conjecture;
With perfect glasswork etched out of the then-time silica,
Found its place In Saint-Denis Cathedral Basilica...!
Modestly outsized splash-smeared gorgeous goblet casements,
Renaissance classic styled stone accent wall sacred basements;
Prettily pointed piercing cumulative curly curves,
Rib vaults great and small intertwining like the war of nerves...!
Soaring airborne ramparts; metaphysical adornments;
Perpendicular proportions; lopsided floral fronts;
Steady solemn designs that flounce upward in height and grace;
Domed arched ceilings that charms of times, ages, and eras embrace...!
With no shrinks and wrinkles like the perfection of pure youth,
Enticing grand elegance like the fullness of the truth;
Tracery is a treasury of architectural forms,
Within which dwell, fine ethereal elemental norms...!!!
26 January 2023
TRACERY Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Julia Ward
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