Best Amphitheater Poems
Every flower has its own color
With annual observation,
this we springtime discover
Give a womb kernel cede
of acknowledgment
To the spectrum birthright
of each other
We are all one,
tho’ from a different umbilical mother
Notice the bloom of time,
come rain ... come sunshine
First eclipse dawn —
tyranny tares grew with the
the golden amber grain —
The face of nightshade oppression
had a dark tone
Steel magnolias was the fetter fragrance
of the pyramid rule chain
Pharaohs, (of no melanin discretion)
who wore the ornamental godhead,
sat atop the pinnacle
While the slaves were downtrodden fed
at the bottom below
Their crowning achievement
was to erect great tombs
But papyrus thieves in the temple
stole the toil of the ruins
Skin for skin,
this is a-fertile sowing season true
Each summer solstice empire
passes into autumnal decline view
Every bird has its own color
And the length of each wingspan
differs from one another
Take an umbilical hover,
acceptance flight
To the spectrum birthright
of each diverse other
We are all one,
tho’ tear delivered
joyously from a different womb mother
Notice the migration of time
come swaddle skybound ... come burial ground
Last obscure sunset
was the Legion silo bane talon —
The thorny wrinkles of oppression
had a pale monotone
Caesars, (of no pigment distinction)
who wore the prickly spiked laurel bled,
sat atop the carrier chariot
While the plebs were commercial shackle led
to the amphitheater above
Their crowning achievement
was to deify great destructive bombs
As scrip crooks in the palace
pilfered the taxable gift of the palms
Skin for skin ~ Epidermal blend,
this is birds of prey a-nesting season true
Autumn equinox tech empires
passed into cold war, nuclear winter view
The nature of wisdom
teaches cross-pollination pure acceptance love:
Tho’ each fruit has its own color
Why then, doth this root of affinity divides us?
This is crystal clear!
Yet, what is the color of water,
of which thee Mist of Life doth bring?
It is snowflake known —
Tears of repentance
is from whence salvation doth spring
Could it be thoughts, images in my head
or dreams painted with colors in acrylic and water
that keeps me upright in the storm
in tough times and desert wanderings
Sensory impressions in the awake state
with pleasure, expectations
embroidered in artistic decorative stitching
An amphitheater oasis that is reflected in the water mirror
early morning with plenty of time, peace and tranquility
Discover the giant beech trees
which climbs boldly up toward the sky
Carefully tread on the metre-long carpets
with white and blue anemones
Picking gold in the forest, the chanterelles, for breakfast
Listen to the enormous variety of birdsong
as I rest on the bright green moss
Faith is like wifi
invisible to the eye but connects you to what you need.
Faith is the cornerstone of wholesome living
it brings you to a fearless place of love
Faith is a friend you will never lose
as long as you speak to it often
Faith is a pair of wings in full flight
or a light at the end of the tunnel
Faith is a gift given at birth
it takes us there, time and time again
Faith is a delicate egg ready to hatch
a seedling in the ground needing water
Faith is a rose in full bloom
a giant in an amphitheater room
F A I T H
Filtering through the empty broken balconies along the rivieras
are the waning cacophonies echoing monotonous songs,
“Merciless they are to us at the breaking of dawn”
Where life once thrived, we arrived in the city called the strip,
an open-air prison, an amphitheater without any spectators
insight, although the world is watching
We trudge onto yet another camp
The sun brings nothing, not anything more than light
that shines upon a smokey sky
I see more of nothingness, space, void, rubble
Everything is foreign and everyone has changed
All are cold, scared, and hungry, we walk aimlessly
In the hands of anyone unknowing if he or she's sane
There is so much fear, I am no longer safe
A new reality has come upon me
To the smell of death should I adapt?
A new day has dawned, morning has broken
Echoes pick up murmurs of others tears long spent
sifting through these ruins where I hide
Unattended unattached, no time for a sigh,
cry, or yawn, I am zombie like
The unrest of the last night has begun again
The recent blood red scenes now past
Yesterday's echoes filter one more reality
Will it be me today?
It was a summery San Francisco evening.
Dressed in tight jeans, I was the modern mother
taking my daughter to the first and last concert of our youthful days together.
Though we sat back in the general admission seats of a huge amphitheater,
the excitement all around us was palpable.
The audience, mostly women, screamed with delight
each time we heard the first few notes of our heartthrob’s songs
exploding, immediately recognizable, from the speakers
strategically placed around us.
The sky began to darken as lights played upon the stage,
enhancing our idol’s chiseled features on the wide screen above us..
No longer able to contain ourselves, most of us were on our feet.
As the beat from the band pulsated through us, body and soul,
we became a mass of swaying flesh, uniting ourselves
with this enthralling performer in the only way we knew how.
Unable to stop, I let the music guide my hips inside those skinny jeans
as I stood there grooving to hit after hit after hit!
That night I was sexy, free, and forever young,
and I was one with them all
in pop rock paradise.
Pollen green 3 inches
Of allergen confection, powders outdoor landmarks.
A few ticks past dawn,
New birds, preflight,
Tune up their chirping chords,
Like nature's philharmonic, knowing the neighborhood
Is soon to enter their amphitheater, in, from their rooms of sleep.
Little lizards scurry, large clouds puff up and move through,
Steel blue, morning skies.
Sunshine coats deer and fox,
Chipmunk and squirrel,
And lovely life grooves
In time with God
Standing proud are the buildings they’ve erected
Bold and tall, contemporarily dressed
in concrete and metal attire
Architects of the future
laying down their visionary foundation in the present
Rising up from the ground
are their impure skyscraper dreams of global domination
A false resurrection,
that in due time will be torn down
Can’t you see it?
Look at the ancient Roman Coliseum,
a picture of antiquity
Showing us what the future of
modern conquerors will be
Broken down stones covered with weeds,
portal doors to the gladiator arena cast asunder
Ancient roars
no longer yielding
any amphitheater noise
All of their false high places
rent crumbling to the ground
Can’t you see it?
Look at the ancient Egyptian Pyramids,
a picture of antiquity
Showing us what the future of
modern conquistadors will be
Pharaonis schemes of world domination dreams,
chambers of a death tomb buried in dirt green
Ancient sepulchers
of twice wicked evil men,
who didn’t believe in God’s miracles
These be the pictures of antiquity,
showing us the flawed structures of inhumanity
These be the pictures of antiquity,
created by architects of a doomed history
roosters symphony
nature amphitheater
creek between two hills
Still, in my pajamas, cold, ‘tis Winter.
Purple and gray wool socks, and still, cold feet.
Yet i’d walk down into the oaks, with sun’s
light be soaked, at the Summer-plumed heartbeat.
Into the glowing moss and down the hill,
like my grand, who’d make glorious foothold
into the street. Still, alone, basking in
happiness, woolen feet waltzing, toes cold,
knuckles chapping, clapping of my steepled
fingers. dry and joyful lips, arising,
Dizzy, I'd survey the amphitheater -
steam of cold-heat, underfoot apprising.
O my soul, the crooning blue signature,
expansive, inexpensive, pensive sky.
Behold God’s goodness directed my way.
Though fibbing from inside, I do not lie.
The arms of my chair, still, caring, hold me
or i’d jetty into my imagination.
There the birds stir up woozy fairyland
with tea and serenity’s coronation.
2/10/2021
Contest: All Yours (Feb 10)
Sponsor: Brian Strand
The Dogs of War are on a Blood Trail.
The first, Blinken, of many vermin that will lead to Biden's son, who is up a tree hiding, will soon be devoured.
Just before Hunter, now hunted, is tracked down and torn to shreds by public scrutiny and judicial process, will he likely take his own life, being the coward that he is, to spare his father from further embarrassment?
Or, due to his own frailty, and utter corruption, will the resident and cheat, father Biden, suffer and collapse from heart failure by the sheer weight of his own sins?
The story is unfolding, like a Shakespearean masterpiece, that will be retold for centuries to come.
Nixon, Kennedy... will be like children's Mother Goose stories compared to this epic, Romanesque drama of fortune, tyranny, and betrayal.
So great, they may have to edit Dante's Inferno, just to include the heads of Biden weeping on that icy lake.
Now, lay quietly in the bushes, from vantage points, and peer down on the amphitheater before you.
The stage is set.
The General, Trump, can be seen lurking in the rafters as his legion are concealed within the trees at the Battle of the Teutoburg Forest.
Will there be an Arminius, a Republican, who had acquired Democrat citizenship, that will lead the 50 FBI agents into ambush, and perhaps lead to the fall of Rome, a.k.a. the Democratic Party?
There won't be enough bread and circuses to save the Plantation Party after this loss... one can only hope.
by,
Martin Braun
4/23/2023
Source: rep harriet hageman calls for anthony blinken to appear before weaponization committee over intel letter about hunter biden laptop
The night air with owls cry invitation of canopies of writers to write the
Days using the night pen jolting candle to the candidates aspiring to arson
night. The pans and pots exchanging strong actions to the curve of the sea
like seasonal belt.
I preferred to belt ideas to conclude the departure of imagination under
the wilderness wings of the soup, the night, where I power my thinking to
pink rose. I raid it to trade the sound of night that of my belonging, the
defame of fact to fiction looking strive to live under my enterprise.
I cajoled the swirl wind from the sea pointing to talon meek of jealousy
collided to collaboration the admiral salute me to the situation under the
control of my country where I encountered Taibatou, the couple of days
dash around the bush to the calabash of my thinking, it never too late to
buy the truth with bullets of fact. Shining light to the shift of action
to accost stirring on street with string of peculiar explanations shivering
mind.
Divining day wake with action sealed of blue cap contemplates the
Inflections of words to describe the caravan of chagrin mammals with tiny
ribs socket of sox seceded to sue the merchants of rogue. Daffodils color
purple with flowers morning millet of null to answers. The breads sandal in
my throat which I have to draw it with cup of tea to make the belly
Assault the pang of hunger and thirsty like tricycles moving from left to
right without clear definition.
The sound of broom from unwilling woman woke the master to dance to the
music, the imagination of life sings lullaby the stars smile like sinister
expecting spouse running on the door to dull the light. The coat of
Fabricated joke tore the night blowing scent, scene of stage amphitheater
Like Luke of contort fact to consortium benefit.
Why I have to wander the days sleep in the night wake up from the dream of
success flagship my empty heart drink August to clinch thirst. I sweep the
night to defuse tension that has been marrying me for Century of sentiment
mad of violence concrete of concerts connect direct to the desire night
cold as ice loud as bomb difficult as flying in the air without wings.
'Jesus Christ Superstar':
this might tell you where we are.
With open sky and stars above,
it's just another summer of love.
Bota bag across my breast
(Strawberry Hill is the best).
In sandals and long madras gown,
out for a seventies night on the town.
It's a Broadway production, L.A. style,
in an Amphitheater higher than a mile.
Sweet smoke permeates the air
with hundreds of people 'being' there.
Passing a joint down the row,
Mary just doesn't know
what's the buzz all about?
It's a happening without a doubt!
February 28, 2018
Fluid like falls of rolling water,
Fluid like a disease, a chemical reaction unleashed in any manner of time and space, discreetly repeating , unfolding and deleting, reemerging reaching the ceiling like smoke in thinner attire.
Fluid like fish eggs taking course with a steady stream.
Fluid like radio waves bouncing off beams around satellites and mortar a amphitheater without curves.
Fluid with the aerodynamic of no limits free-falling in the subtle touch of gravity.
A fiery glow envelops those assembled
A revival meeting, uncannily resembled
The vast amphitheater packed to the gills
Worshipers revel in vulgar thrills
Once the festivities are underway
The skies blacken to an evil gray
Viewed: Prurient pleas for salvation
Heard: Satanic shouts, incantations
As knights of darkness and light take the field
To beer, blood and lust all inhibitions yield
America, in the throes of gluttonous shame
~ forgets that 'Super Sunday' is just a football game
In Greek mythology Ibycus is robbed and killed on his way to a musical competition. He
appeals to some cranes overhead to avenge his cause - cranes considered a good omen.
Later at the festival, held in a huge amphitheater, the furies announce and morn the death of
Ibycus. During the performance the cranes fly overhead and one of the robbers cries, "Look,
comrade, the cranes of Ibycus!" They are both caught.
"Look! Look, comrade
There yonder flow
The cranes of Ibycus!"
Above the stadium
In perfect row,
The cranes of Ibycus.
Above the Fury's chorus,
In dissonance, crow,
The cranes of Ibycus!
Above the bedlam crowd
Their numbers grow,
The cranes of Ibycus.
Above the hoard of voices
Become now low,
The cranes of Ibycus.
Above the perfect silence,
Flying slow,
The cranes of Ibycus.
Above ten thousand heads
Which lowly bow,
The cranes of Ibycus.
Beyond the tiers and fading
In the distant glow,
The cranes of Ibycus.
*
*Bullfinch, Mythology