Best Antennae Poems
Enroling you a worm (cumbersome and)
hairy, you- scimitar of leaves
Knows the pain ,writhing pupae
Abandoned and convicted
Constricted hanging straightjacket
Squirming like a jackrabbit
Gagged nocturnally - blindfold humility
Rejected by those mocking moths
and jealously believing left the key
Both found our grace on bended knees
..left there dangling from a tree..
Unhinge now those spinakers of glory
Pretty - flaky- flinder
Streaked in splatters paint
Dust of the fairies
Gaze at me with criss-cross eyes
Innocent beauty oh ye butterfly
Spiny antennae, stretching out transmitters
Taking flight so easily
Flitting off with no goodbyes
To a newer afternoon over there
Dashing in the sun
Kneeding and gouging all those zinnias
Joy! Slurping up the nectar
Whisky! Tequila! Brandy and Champagne!
Swops them for a chorus of pansies
Dancing blooming flowers
Crazy blessed colours
Bouncing delight.- erratic in flight
Dodging in between the bees
O enchanted mystic butterfly
Only pausing for a while
Hold me in your spell
For you walked that crooked mile
Linger in this dream
So seldom comes to see
Just as you, my timepiece too
Is coiled in spring
A dustpuff within the wind
Specked all over pollen confetti
Envied now by every moth
Suicidal circle - one kamikaze candle
Seared and singed and slowly fried
Getting what theyre vetted for
But the sun his laughing in his sky
Beseeching all the yet to open flowers
Awake !Awake!
An angel is coming by
A lowly blossom, striving to sustain
her beauty in the early morning mist,
the crocus, craving moisture to maintain
her stoic fight 'gainst winter's iron fist.
A lowly mollusc slithers 'neath his shell,
he slowly weaves, and leaves a silver trail,
antennae primed, and ready for the death knell,
when sparrows poke and peck his coat of mail.
Creatures and plants in the midst of the fray,
searching for sustenance, dying of thirst,
staving off hunger, say, is there a way
for them to be blessed, not feeble and cursed?
predator, prey, both the weakest and strongest,
who will prevail in the fight to live longest?
In-flight
In pheromone
Honeysuckle perfume
Insect antennae knot freshly
bouquet.
In breeze
I feel your breath
rustle shiny reeds
of my stints' hapless hinterland
you learn.
A vest
of velveteen
gleaming wings that trembled
Turn to a whirring glint beneath
full moon.
I await your coming
for the flowers are blooming and the grass is high…
lilac branches still bare and shivering
in the laggard lion’s breath of March
they await your kiss, Monarch of summer.
purplish buds
sprout from gray lilac branches --
daffodils bloom
Though all the tulips are gone
having served as desert for gophers,
the worm and the grubs stir in the wet spring soil…
and the hyacinths have replaced the crocus’s blue
the paper narcissus now, scent the air.
red breasted robins
hop between hummocks of grass --
bird bathes fill with rain
From the within the green pupa, soon
you will stir ..the membrane will thin, sheer as a curtain
in a spring breeze adorned in polka dots
and wings like the crinolines of spindle legged
virgin daughters at first communion...
you will emerge with lash long antennae ready to fly.
leaves of cone flowers
push through the brown soil of spring --
anthills rise
I await your coming
for the flowers are blooming and the grass is high…
lilac branches still bare and shivering
in the laggard lion’s breath of March
they await your kiss, Monarch of summer
butterflies born.
Forms: Free Verse & haiku
A lowly blossom, striving to sustain
her beauty in the early morning mist,
the crocus, craving moisture to maintain
her stoic fight 'gainst winter's iron fist.
A lowly mollusc slithers 'neath his shell,
he slowly weaves, and leaves a silver trail,
antennae primed and ready for the knell,
when sparrows poke and peck his coat of mail.
Creatures and plants in the midst of the fray,
searching for sustenance, dying of thirst,
staving off hunger, say, is there a way
for them to be blessed, not feeble and cursed?
predator, prey, both the strongest and weakest,
who will prevail in the fight to live longest?
A brown-winged Lepidoptera alights
My sweaty hand and tentatively flaps
Its delicate wings in morning sunlight.
What seemed to me a long time was perhaps
A moment or two that it lingered there.
It unfurled its proboscis and began
To dab and suck a sweat bead with great care
Unaware that it was the broth of Man.
I watched its skittish profile while it supped:
Its unblinking compound eye, antennae
Feeling the ambient air while lapping up
The last of the bead, turned and looked at me.
I said, hello you little butterfly
It then took flight and I uttered… good-bye!
revelation of revelations!
an ordinary morning til..
discovery of discoveries
brittle chrysalis
upside down, branching
breathing, pulsing
I pause and
inspect the
pupa’s fortress
tight and hard as
childhood memories of
milkweed pods
splaying, splitting, dropping
fragments into the
pungent soil beneath
My birth sac
splits apart
Baptismal waters
run down my legs
he’s going to be a
football player the
doctor predicts.
one last push
spills my babe
onto linen’s
glaring whiteness.
oops, he’s a she
and so beautiful.
A parallel universe
repeats, reflects, completes
an ever changing
life cycle
sunshine dries
black and orange panes
tiny filaments of gossamer
wings shimmer silky white
against the opaque sun
Dad’s car delivers
mom and babe home
their newborn squalls.
her tiny fingers
curl in a tight fist.
each digit is a
prayer bead
chanting its presence.
I gaze in amazement
my mind awhirl
wings and elbows,
antennae and toes
displace space now that
seconds before was
unknown. unclaimed.
Above: Wystan in fancy dress
as a beetle -1912
Photographs of Wystan
One of the world's
greatest poets
in a pose, similar
to an Anne Gedde's baby
Balancing beetle antennae
his head at an angle
a satin suit padded to
emulate the chest
of a beetle's,
Spare legs of black velvet
dangling while
he stands upright
feet together, his
expression, militant
Certain in this moment
of his current
resemblance to
a beetle
At five years old,
to think he held
potential for such poetry
A black and white photo,
frontspiece for "The Life of a Poet"
It appears to have been
snapped just before an
exhalation of his cigarrette.
At 65
his face is wrinkled
eye bags reminiscent of
a sharpei puppy
but it is the forehead
that so amazes
with grids as square as graphic paper
as if the poetry
had been mapped out
on his face
I've seen mud, cracking
like that, on a dried up river bed
His fingers are long, chiselled
and in relaxed contact
with that cigarette as
he holds back a chuckle
with the smoke
His air is of a casual formality- a waistcoat
teamed with with a plaid sports coat
In retrospect, here, he had
reached his full potential
I wonder if someone
uttered at his funeral
"Stop all the clocks."
Sunday cockcrow nascent
aural essays reveal
laissez-faire raptures.
Enigmatic silken piece compost ushered in by
trenchant trademark tremulous signature.
Doe-eyed instrumentalist’s strident brass ensemble,
wakey wakey for the pier gazing loiterer whose blasé
sashay amble’s out of kilter.
Maverick antennae on a radio safari,
hawking hourglass heritage lodestone.
Closet Peter Pan’s astride transistor, literati goggle eyed and glued.
Silhouettes of wistful mint leaf tract,
navigating hoarse throat shellback allegory.
Earnest weekend welcome mat to madcap jester, laureate, bohemian.
Religiously the listener’s transported
from a humble tepee sanctum
to alluring levee inundation area,
far flung folly edifice,
nomad siren hymn sheet to mount Half Dome.
Long wave bounder in my dreams,
I limb skip oe’r fiction world simulcast entanglement,
snoop beneath rogallo-wing parachute in a Middle East plot,
“twin peaks” would be awestruck by this labyrinthine concourse.
One can flit invisibly round medieval black market cobblestone arcades,
ghost novelist’s ethereal penchant for pinch and pilfer retro-fit infringement.
Melting pot cinnamon dispenser, whiff stick fix antidote to kettledrum ennui
the blight of urban jungle setting and rural folklore.
Otherworld contortion with a shard of drama for magic carpet flight of fancy broadcast
Lineage derived from ancient epochs now assumed but for an inkling, icons I become with card shark sly booth legerdemain.
Maybe I’m that fictile clueless hiker, destitute, indigent
In the midst of a forty-five degree silicate sea
Winds carry arid mists
Blinding unprotected eyes
Burying the unsuspecting
Hard waves break on the dunes
Precipitating salty tears with cruel irony
Feet, firmly rooted
Skin, steadfast in the unrelenting midday sun
Arms, outstretched
Right hand, due south
Fingers, arrayed, elements, antennae
Left balances right
Body rotates, slowly
Shoulders
Hips
Balls of the feet
Right arm sweeps the compass
Eyes, closed in concentration
West; sparks of latent inspiration
Arc from distant faulted subduction,
Eyes, open in anticipation
Convected curtains corrupt the clear air
Shimmering over a non-existent lake
Mirrored mirage
Making me shiver despite the oppressive atmosphere
Blurred images come and go
Through the poorly receptive ether
Shapes raising spirits
Smudges dashing them
Despairing grey
Mysterious black
Optimistic white
Bleached and burned
A rainbow away from the memory of hope
Monochrome dreams distilled from coalesced emotions
Abstraction dissolves to substantion
Pulse becomes sway
Refracted gamut of grey
Washes pastels over a hazy outline
Flowing cotton dress
Desire
Copper hair
Passion
Dark bright eyes
Ardour
Heart and soul on fire
Flames of wishing, wanting, needing
Lick the air in every direction
Which way to run?
There is no choice
Always towards
Always the agonizing experience
Of illusion
Not this time...
I plead
Why in his presence, did her soft heart, always like sweet
cotton candy melt?
Orchestral songs engendered the tenderest feelings, to her
heart, so aquamarine velvet.
Such starlit, subtle, shameless, suggestive glances!
An antennae in every way was she, inviting kaleidoscopic,
tsunamic romances.
On the fog cradled ship, with a cape of fog, blessing her
chiseled,moonbeam face,
His arms enclosed her in a velveteen gold, cuddled in his
silent, starshine embrace.
Oh, poetess, penning of feelings of deep intimacy.
Your poem, will be stamped “romantic “?
A term, you loathe and find so very meaningless and worse,
utterly curt and disgustingly pedantic!
But only a poet who knows your heart to its scarlet
inner flaming core,
Has the outstanding bravissimo to knock on your truly
insatiable, heart’s-door!
Dare he try his wings and wish for such magically,
exotic, sensual satisfaction?
Wrapped in those twilight, wild, moonbeamed curls
of Eurydice’s Olympian extraction!
6/4/2024
Slide-out Coke machines
Bubble gum baseball cards
Superman/Batman comics
Full service gas stations
25 cents a gallon
Dial phones
AM radio
Fats Domino
Black & white TV
Rabbit-ear antennae
Three channels
I Love Lucy
Drive-in movies
Double dating
Drive-in diners
10 cent hot dogs
Saddle Oxfords
Penny Loafers
Vacation bible school
Homemade playgrounds
Barefoot summers
A dollar was a fortune...
No cable
No Internet
No cell phones
No problem...
At the end of Mercy Street
lies a forgotten wharf.
A single row boat is
moss covered.
The battered vessel is
moored and unwanted
like leprosy -
conducive to an invisible cancer.
Two splintered oars imitate antennae -
receiving distress signals
from no one.
The dinghy will not row towards God.
The boat will not sail past
Bergen-Belsen or Dachow
nor will it glide 'gainst Newton.
Mother wouldn't allow such a spectacle.
Tommy doesn't sleep on bottle caps anymore.
Tommy and Mother are content now.
(Tommy is dying)
Tommy's back is not broken
like a scarecrow -
(for he is good).
His leg is not twisted like a licorice stick -
(for he is cloaked in servile flattery).
Tommy doesn't skip like a river
nor shine like a sapphire.
Kevorkian wise and Barabbas blamed;
he grimaces -
he swallows Mother's red roses;
knowing when he sweats -
(in the afternoon funeral festivities)
he'll smell just like her.
The darkened sunlight -
(which Tommy cannot see)
throws itself between two clouds
marking a dramatic entrance!
Tommy's knees are broken yet
he still dances -
obviously dumb-founded
and matriarch approved.
Tommy hyperventilates and chokes.
Tommy eschews Mother's American beauties
and externally regurgitates the
memories he can't
(internally)
understand.
A single groove migrates
the needle into ambient static as
Tommy washes his hands.
Tommy simply washes his hands
and whistles.
(He simply washes his hands)
and whistles...
like a blind ant
without it’s antennae
who rams against a wall
too slippery to climb over
so he runs along the wall
first to the left
then to the right
searching for an opening
he never gives up
running along that wall
searching for that opening
somewhere…
such a silly blind ant
without his antennae
who rams against a wall
too slippery to climb over
you’re in the right place
at the wrong time
However:
even the smallest ants
cast long shadows
I am a silly blind ant
who rams against a wall
too slippery to climb over
so let us cast a long shadow
together...
let us go backwards now
retrace our steps
to where we began
to that wall we call home
We will find that opening
somewhere…
Submitted for: scott thirty seven’s contest
Leccy Powers in the Air
Nikola Tesla knew the score,
back there, wayback in 1894,
send-em power through the post,
bloody radio antennae, sends the ghost ,
wireless sends the power,
from the insulated tower,
tuned aeriel sucks the most,
fine tuned it is the host,
a quarter wave deflowers,
when electric car un-powers,
recharge from power radio remote,
a constant radio wave, unquote,
or constant flow empowers,
Leccy car you Billy Goat ! :}-
So ac power is in the air,
detected by the car, right there,
powered then the Billy Goat,
tuned aerial , sucks in the voltage, know it!
Leccy car can run 4 sure!
Don't need no petrol, where?
just leccy techs, leccy motors go-at,
says johnson, with a slight unquote,
the new world is to share,
if it catches em by the throat,
the dimwits wouldn't dare,
but some ones got to show it ?
Eg frequency of 27 megacycles cb radio 27,000,000 a second.
So put a 9 foot antennae on you car to receive the signal current?
It works out shorter for much faster frequencies like your mobile phone.
A few inches, a few centimeters etc...
So the sent electricity gets collected at the right length antennae and
runs the leccy motor in your car...sounds cool to me …
id be wearing wellies or gum boots to avoid a shock from the powered antennae 250volts maybe, if I touched it:} kill switches needed hey...
Don Johnson
BEFORE 20,000 YEARS AGO THE ATLANTEAN PEOPLE OF THE RED SKIN TYPE,
HAD SUBMARINES AND AEROPLANES. {VALIXI}. POWERED AND CONTROLLED BY RADIO WAVES TECHNOLOGY REMOTELY..{ARE WE TOO RETARDED TO DO IT???}...INDUS VALLEY PEOPLE HAD VIMANA
FLYING MACXHINES TOO AT THAT TIME....AND WROTE HOW FIX THE MERCURY ENGINE...
Do we have to res-surect ole Tesla?
to get it to work? ac electricity can be
transmitted through the air! as he said...
easily converted to dc voltage by rectifiers...as in power supplys....
like having your own power pole on the car...