Best Alkaline Poems
Why don’t you come now
To the plot of blue river shore
Where we would
In an intense chocolate mood
Sit in a sun rise satisfaction
On the grainy sand
And create pearl drops of time
From the rhymes of waves
With the vibrancy we behaved
Exchanging those fine chimes
From our moonbeam dialectics
And converging synthesis
Of our hilltop thoughts and marine activities
After a diamond quest
Like the river
Or inside the river too?
How wonderfully we regressed and progressed
Making those radiant rings of time
Sometime winged
Sometime pink tinged
Time is bland and monochrome
Unless from your chromosome
You paint it like Van Gogh
Arresting the wayward clock
During which
Regardless of Greenwich
Taking colours from our river-wave flowers
Taking flavours from our cellular tremors
Taking sounds from our nascent heart pounds
Yours and mine
In our proximity alkaline
Would paint the wavelets
In the cups and plates
Opening the normally closed gates
Of sweet sweats
From each pore
And millions of such pores
From smiling to laughing in a petrichor
Unlocking the thousand doors
Of a colour continuum
From San Francisco to Baltimore
As we exchange our breath
From our deepening cores
Raising a rivulet
In the blue pigeon’s breast
And the bulbul’s beautiful crest
A supreme rest
In a purple tumult
Shadows lengthen in ecstasy
As sessions come to a termination
(No termination is possible though
What happens is a slow transformation
Of one melody to another music
Speeches flowing into lyrics
The sounds into stillness mystic)
So therefore
Bringing to the fore
From the amalgamated core
A flower of fusion
Pure and fresh
Out of the flood
No mire or mud
Looking at us conveying greetings
We look too
And from the meeting
A poem is born
Why don’t you come any more
Very often I look through the eye hole
Of my expectant door
The wishes naturally soar
In case I may see you coming
Dulcet sounds your feet strumming
But it’s all mist
I almost don’t exist
I miss the oasis
Of the cleansing catharsis
_____________________________________
19 May, 2017
For the Contest sponsored by Neyda Ivette Negron
Dust dry winds that leech and parch,
Skeletal soldiers that endlessly march
O'er barren sand and rocky crest,
Examples of nature's cruel jest.
Plants that bristle with vicious quills;
A land that teems with ancient ills.
Cursed and blighted by gods unknown;
Loved by bandits and rogues alone.
Loneliness that echoes the land's bleak need;
A cancer that grows like an unholy seed.
Twisted remnants from an age long past;
Memories linger, but nothing lasts.
Broken spires and crumbling sand;
Fading ruins on every hand
Of once proud cities gathering dust;
Abandoned dreams now choked with rust.
Shadowed lands now harsh and bleak;
Drained of life, of decay they reek.
Blistering heat to sear and scorch;
A land benighted, the sun its torch.
Mountains loom high on every hand;
Timeless sentinels o'er the broken land.
Yet in this desolate, deserted place,
Life yet lingers, if only a trace.
Lizards, snakes, and scorpions abound;
Cactus blooms and birds give sound.
Reminders to all that life will live,
And survive on whatever nature will give.
A wasteland it is, and yet it is more;
For it harbors secrets of forgotten lore.
Lessons of serenity, hope, and trust;
Covered in blankets of alkaline dust.
As golden Sun is shining bright,
blue molecules of light flow out
into our atmosphere to blend
and fill our space with soft sky blue.
The color blue is so serene,
as in our oceans' sapphire tint,
or lakes that mirror azure sky
in ripples of reflective hues.
Among the flowers of our earth,
real blue in blooms is very rare.
The few that are will thrill us, like
Blue Butterfly Delphinium.
There are no really true blue foods.
Most fruits have colors to attract;
like tangerine, orange, and plum,
or lemon, lime, grape, apricot.
In nature, color blue is rare
except for beauty of our sky,
or where our waters mirror it.
Our color blue, a gift, serene.
Sandra M. Haight
~2nd Place~
Contest: United Colors: Blue
Sponsor: Silent One
Judged: 02/29/2016
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"Blue is rare in living nature as it is a color that is associated with organic molecules in alkaline conditions: few living systems have an alkaline chemistry naturally. The morning glory flower, for instance, starts off the day an intense cerulean, fading to an insipid mauve at sundown as the alkalinity in the flower decreases."
Source: https://forum.jackkruse.com/index.php?threads/the-color-blue-in-nature-is-rare.16477/
"The ocean looks blue because red, orange and yellow (long wavelength light) are absorbed more strongly by water than is blue (short wavelength light). So when white light from the sun enters the ocean, it is mostly the blue that gets returned. Same reason the sky is blue." Source: Google
Mad shadows dance in the corners of my room
See them sink like paint into the walls
Hellfire! If they had caught me unawares
Where’s the game in that, my friends, I’d be dead but
I have eyes in the back of my head.
All shades have names, and histories, too
Once crouched like me in shells banded by light,
All definition’s now gone, sparest contrast, and color
Imperceptible new moon black, ultraviolet, infrared…I know, for
I have eyes in the back of my head.
Ragged words, a crone’s alkaline snicker,
What do they know, what have they learned, what secrets
Have they witnessed with a hanging jury’s bored deliberation
Though I have smoked their schemes, in my dreamless bed
I have their eyes on the back of my head.
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Nobody needs ya.
Everybody doesn't want ya.
One day I'm gonna hack ya.
chemical crane,
lithium albatross.
iodized magnetic zion
in my head.
i'll run for days,
inside a solar haze.
corrosive reduction
under the sun.
the old search for
the purified lithium.
metallic filter to drain
the silt.
empty the heart of all
its guilt.
so salt the cracker and
absolve the sin.
an alkaline base full
of wrinkled skin.
Red planet in the dark,
Iron Oxide lights your spark.
In search of great, there is not much greater,
then the planet of valleys, deserts and craters.
Spots of white look not unlike snow,
but, in fact, are storms and cyclones.
A surface scarred and cut by time,
holds a soil of Alkaline.
Cold and quite, howling wind,
Carbon Dioxide is what you'd breathe in.
Plains and highlands vast and smooth,
contrast craters the size of moons.
simply a face made flaccid,
beaten, meteor impacted.
Storms of dust bellow and swoon,
traveling to an unwritten tune.
An Argon sword, atmosphere built,
with carbon dioxide playing the hilt.
A Terra of martain Magnesium mass,
is it Basalt, or Silica glass?
Avalanches slope with a streak,
with weak gravity and slide to a heap.
Gullys carved from water of old,
lines can be seen where a sea met a coast.
Surveying mars is a difficult task,
about half of the time there are failed spacecrafts.
But despite all that, we now have a team,
of rovers exploring since 2003!
They have seen much of Mars, as far as can go,
though the poles are of ice, and the weather is cold.
But still, we have maps, and data and more,
we've explored the red planet like never before!
Peroxides and oxides provide color schemes,
it's possible life had seen what we've seen,
it's possible mars might invite human beings,
because anything's possible, when you have a dream.
Limerick: Once a delicious hen fed on rice-sticks
for Delysia Hendricks, with many, many thanks
Once a delicious hen fed on rice-sticks
Loved gorging herself on limericks
She pecked on a sweet line
It turned all alkaline
Now chicken’s served with acid on bricks.
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2013
Alkaline
Ammonia
Toxin
Water
Cold nights and tree lights taught him to forget home.
He’s mellow tonight though, no telling what goes unknown.
He packs light and steps heavy and taps his fading flashlight and I bet he’s a lefty.
Duracell down spiral connects with flesh on even time, a metronome of alkaline.
Ill forever remember this snowless December and he’ll certainly forget me.
Still I sway with the music still he keeps it rock steady.
As he rolls down my street and through the night (like I roll through my week)
All that exists is the moon, that man… and me.
Ain’t it somethin’, what life brings when you start listenin’ to the quiet things?
Plastic sacks like gift-wrap, thrice reused, revalued glass
Rides passenger beside wrinkled paper grocery bags
Holding sugar coated soda cans,
Hanging from the rubber handle and his hands were full of gravel.
They grow more fragile as he travels.
And this overanalyzed poet’s delight
Does just that just as the moon tells of midnight.
The crude acoustic music moved right through the tulips, ricocheted off red bricks, treble clefs start riots.
It jukes a tune, almost a salute, not unlike the Lousiana blues, up your spine it always winds up finding the light that burns inside, even from somewhere deep in the bayou at suppertime.
A profound lyric, when you hear it slides the skin from your bones and you fall to the dirt, like ivory stones.
He's hard to get a good look at, and feared like a black alley cat;
his con-man disappearing act is long like the years you cant get back.
The words that i don’t hear his lips say are shouted aloud by his ribcage.
The nickels he bent over backwarrds fo never got easy to take.
This slow going rolling stone grew old with his folded up road map
the only thing that he had when the rain was too bad.
This landed him on a fortunate sweet spot,
an unfound tin can jackpot in the same spot you hadnt yet thought,
the start of the last stop of the things we bought and dinners we got.
His belly goes empty when everything rots.
IN SPITE OF MILING FRUSTRATION
Let not the miles and mile
Downs and frustrates
Our longings and hoarse feelings
As distance is another promise
To remain steadfastly true.
Frustration is wishful distraught alkaline
Keeping us to be alive
Through artificial life sustaining button
Hindrance is an insulin
To be posted from time to time.
If not of the indispensability
Living apart is a dare
Traversing from place to place
Our memories enlivening
As muteness and alexia demise.
Of fruitful vows
To contain and cure loneliness
Communicating is stalling
Homesickness
Drying the tears subside somewhere!
These furrows, littered with bags,
Separate stalks
Bent over and inclined to suns of ambition –
And escape.
These shoots grow relentlessly –
In spite of me.
These saplings break the ground
And Send down roots
That anchor them in soils that are too
alkaline.
These ones, potted and clumped, shrubbed,
Must one day stand alone?
And sway in the wind
as the old trees do outside
Just beyond
This grid-like field
In an old decaying greenhouse?
Dead alive divine
Alkali
alkaline
earthy and noble
tried and true
gaseous gratuity held by a glutton...
cocked fist held fast by none other than you.
Gal(l)actic
What a dream girl woman I mean like all
the stars heaven and cosmos never to fall
orbits moons sun wind fire water and earth
never in light years a drought and no dearth
We danced our mobile of yo-yos no strings
attached cosmic pleasure undefeatable wings
roots to grow old with conjoined and together
we meant to sustain all storms and all weather
We made love lived love and made children
had future and trust pleasures by the million
a legion and galaxy of strength and good power
a kiss a word sustenance rose passion flower
Then black holes turned our cool Universe sour
the gal spiralled plenty of lactic acid to scour
what once was gentle and free flowing friction
turned malicious malfeasant from benediction
You gallivanted away no more communication
a confused meteorite and un-curtailed corrugation
just silence and denial gall bile odorous flight
a crash with full impact lost gravitational height
I believe you’re still bitter and sour full of acid
a stream catcher of victimhood still self-centredly tacit
misappropriated in anger delusion cantankerous vile
the stars have moved heaven and turned at the stile
My cosmos has shifted found new lover mate wife
nourishing alkaline base peaches and much better life
sweet milk grapes and ambrosia no more chaos united
joined at our hips mind and soul a new galaxy sighted
01st September 2016 Spring Day in South Africa
Return from Egypt
Matthew 2:19-23
After the Christ’s left for Egypt, where they avoided King Herod,
For five whole years, because in the fifth year Herod simply died,
Mary and Joseph arose, took the boy and his joinery wear, god,
To return finally in the land of Israel: Herod had in death, failed.
Here is Matthew 2:19-23. Matthew: “19 After King Herod died,
An angel from the Lord appeared in a dream to Joseph in Egypt [lex].
20 ‘Get up,’ the angel said, ‘and take the child and his mother [hi’d],
And go to the land of Israel. Those...trying to kill the child are dead’, [rex].
21 Joseph got up, took the child and his mother, and went to...Israel.
22 But when he heard that Archelaus ruled over Judea [Joseph thought],
In place of his father Herod, Joseph was afraid to go there. [The rail].
Having been warned in a dream [ok], he went to the area of Galilee [ought].
23 He settled in a city called Nazareth so that what was spoken,
Through the prophets might be fulfilled: He will be called a Nazarene.”
So, that was Matthew 2:19-23, full text almost and not token:
Your understanding of the script is fine, it is true and alkaline.
Sigmund Freud theorised the ego, which depends upon ID, brink,
This is the id, and stated we are psychopaths to our identity cultural,
Where our super-ego can lurk. He said it is by libido that we think,
A sexualised energy towards death drive and a neurotic guilt banal.
Here, Joseph objected to King Archelaus, the son and heir of Herod,
Who valued Roman law and therefore this Murder of the Innocents,
This did not collate his mind. Blaize it seems, he contradicted the rod:
The angel’s whose thought was his speed, to instead Nazareth pence.
So, church some leaders today don’t imply angels, predestination,
But rather judge angels as suspicious: Catholics believe, Protestants mar.
With your wit do judge the mild baby as given digs from relation:
Taught intelligent, made sane, driven to writ and forgiven for tar - bar.
Dreams above visions state the problem too simply, paraphernalia,
Because it is using minds that humans have visions, possibly -
Our stress points cognate the brain to visualise a better land, trivia,
So Freud’s dreams are more personal, and talk community.
Common English Bible used.