Best Apertures Poems
Who can know the mysterious
ways of the clouds?
They travel in white whipped masses
and gather like solemn pinnacles
looking upwards in reverent penitence.
Silent clouds slowly form and move about
like floating fields in a heavenly marsh
or like soft suspended pillows
making themselves vulnerable
to the temperamental ways of the wind.
Sometimes they seem almost helpless
as they wander in a ghost like state
like wastrels, weighed down
by the prospect of an impending storm.
The yawning blue sky
has become quickly overwhelmed
by clouds’ alluring apertures.
Now they collectively amass
in billowing silence
crowding the vast
sweeping hemisphere.
Slanting sunlight breaks forth
to spar with clouds’ menacing shadows
that threaten to overtake the light
like competing shadow puppets
during a midday matinee.
Clouds are endlessly breathtaking
and appear seemingly mute
except for faint whispers from the winds
as if time stopped to hold its breath
within the boundaries of earth and sky.
4/18/2023
As wisdom falls through apertures of the sky
forever evanescent in nature passing us by
We are told too frequently to know our place
or there'll be consequences that we'll face
Still, a man must do what a man must do
sometimes this concludes taking a different avenue
When a man is confronted with many conflicts
he cannot live so his life contradicts
Standing alone this may entail for a while
with nothing but your own thoughts to beguile
Yourself you see in a mirror of crime
repeating the same offense "life" every time
You can travel the four thousand miles of the Nile
to its source and never find it.
You can climb the five highest peaks of the Himalayas
and never recognize it.
You can gaze through the largest telescope
and never see it.
Arthur Sze
To be a part of landscape
From a distance landscape has a
recognizable outline.
A skin mite, grazing fleshy meadows
grotesque microscopic cow,
has no concept of the human form it feeds from.
Just as a mountain in close proximity
is no longer symbolic of its form,
romance and the imagination of it
is reduced to a frozen, physical obstruction
that is a challenge to survival.
The skin mite tumbles, a huge force
has torn it's clawlike hooves from
living apertures, it falls
with flakes of dead turf into a
depthless void, unoticed
by the scratcher,
and the mountain climber sees the
blinding wall of snow that
flashes by him as he falls,
unoticed by the mountain.
Putrid pus proliferates/purposely preventing
progression's passionate plea -
stifled cries...
Always ascending...and, assiduously avoiding
any acrimonious amounts accrued along apathetic
apertures..."Still I Rise!"
Incessantly fighting the urge to just drop
out of this rancid Rat Race we call living
Still, to abandon sanguine thoughts totally topples the
tenacious toughness that took time to temper...never stop giving
Enervated entities economically embattled
Man, each day we face trouble/In every Third World A Struggle -
singed and burned I'm like stubble/but, like The Ashes Of The Phoenix
to Resurrect from this rubble
Sometimes I shift towards arrogance; The Good Lord Keeps
me humble
Lifting languid limbs loftily to overcome this present Flood
Be Positive is my motto, the flip side?
It's my Blood...
B+
A random road wanders across the desert
as voluminous clouds chase the rising sun
nary a sound can be heard, save for the
whipping wind and clicks of insects.
The yawning horizon stretches out
reaching towards a vast, expansive sea
its crystalline beauty is but a deceptive liar
for death surrounds her ever lapping shores.
Almost uninhabitable she is
like a barren womb in want
her waters are lifeless, a fluid grave
bearing witness of her desolate decay.
Fish carcasses tell their solemn tales
along her distant, lonely shores
their bony apertures are splayed and pecked
hungry seagulls circle, hunting for scraps.
Relentless winds are spreading littered
whitewashed bones
causing them to tumble about
conjuring up a false sense of life.
Now the moon is rising
as acrid air hovers over the sullen sea
the winds seem to shout, “go away”
a dull emptiness prevails.
The blackest night, save for the moon
descends upon this accursed place
where the bony beach rattles its lifeless tunes
along a haunting shoreline
that no one wants to see
where no one wants to be
beside the Salton Sea.
The Magical Epiphany of an Old Rusted Can
whilst out hiking one day in a countryside area
that was quite desolate and remote from any nearby
city, I discovered, amazingly, an Old Rusted Can
that was at least two-liter-sized and was partially-buried
in a long dried-out river bed in the middle of nowhere
this Old Rusted Can protruded out upright at about a
twenty-degree right-slant with some jagged-edges all
along its circular lip
its striking physical presence and the way in which it
was positioned, still partially-filled with dried river
sediment, for me, bespoke some sort of an old artifact
of sorts, yet it was the only object like it right in the
middle of this long dried-out river bed
its unique silhouette was, at once, quite discernable at
a distance on the horizon as it casted a very curious and
most soulful shadow under the limitless canopy of the
late-morning sunlight
although it was very rusted, this Old Can actually
reflected radiant light rays at various times when it
was touched by the rays of the bright sunlight as it
ascended to its customary cosmic dominance in the
late-morning sky
it also had five certain hole punctures located front
and back, in its upper-area, from whence the bright
sunlight reckoned a kaleidoscopic effect of sorts as
the sunlight touched and passed through each of these
unique apertures that were arrayed on this Old Rusted
Can
inelegant as this Old Rusted Can was—this unexpected
and most unusual light-show lasted for several minutes
until the darkened clouds overhead blocked out all of
the bright sunlight for the rest of the morning
yet, I just couldn’t help but feel the true divine presence
of Almighty God Himself—as I had fervently focused on
every aspect and precise detail of this radiant and very
unusual light-show which presented a magical sense and
aura of empyrean enchantment
and whilst I continued my deep gaze at this Old Rusted
Can, I was simultaneously and singularly transfixed by
the utter majesty and true joy of the holy epiphany it had
presented to me. I thought for a moment . . . God does
indeed, relate to us, at times, in very mysterious ways!
Amen! Amen!
Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved
August 21, 2018 (Imagism)
There is something essentially as beautiful
As the majestic beauty of lustrous rays
Of sunshine peeking through the split
Of a curtain drawn shut
Oh, how it dazzles with its glorious splendor!
Seeping through
A keyhole and under the door
In the infancy of morning, gracing
A dark room with a golden bright light
A magnificent radiance!
May it linger on! May it linger on!
Could it be a shining light of hope
For those lost in pitch darkness?
Will it bring smiles to sullen faces?
Or give sight to the blind?
How mischievous , often flirting
And playing peekaboo behind
Tree branches and a cluster of clouds
Invading apertures with its light
Oh, how it dazzles with its glorious splendor!
STANDARD CONTEST NO 150,ANY FORM OR NONE,ANY THEME,UPTO A MAX OF 20 lines
Sponsored by Brian Strand (Winner: 1st Place)
Date written and posted: 04/30/2016
Was professor of astronomy, ah those heady days
Studied fields in cosmology, including solar rays
Observed galaxies all my life, seeking exotic events
Ironically happens now, as my death’s dispensed
By dour hospice window, seeds a suffusion of light
Not dazzling, quite fuzzy, discernibly white
Shallow luminosity, enters my departing room
‘Twas pitch black this night, no forecast moon’
Growing in intensity, colours turn purple green
Must be an invasion, of extraterrestrial aliens
Hope they finish me fast, this final stage is slow
Then the fireworks start, whole world’s set aglow
Heaven’s have ruptured, no raindrops seen
Cataclysmic silent eruption, yet everywhere serene
It’s not possible, unconscionable, too far south
Only a gamma ray burst, could bring this about
A possible hypernova, just light years away
Hits Earth’s magnetic field, in a mega-aurora display
Iridescent photons, avalanche over me
My teardrops fluoresce, through the apertures of agony
Hypnotic warmth, released from cold light
My woes are assuaged, God this feels so nice
Semiconscious state, accruing spiritual bliss
“So this is how life ends, amid ethereal fine mist.”
Nurses are praying, down on their knees
Speaking foreign languages, at wonderment they see
Some fear the apocalypse, whilst others run about
I hum Cohen’s Hallelujah, but these words spill out
#O come purge my mind, cover woes
Give back the life, that I forgo
Help me bear this weight, won’t ya
Blind darkness, annihilate fate
Finish suffering, show your face
Unleash the love, they call Gods grace!
#Hallelujah#Hallelujah#Hallelujah#Hallelujah#
Pyrotechnics are over, now quiescently asleep
Drowning no longer, in pillow soaked weep
Greeting my parents, bereaving my family
As I enter a tunnel, leaving the apertures of agony.
Originally written 02/18/21
2022 Poetry Marathon Mile 19 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Mark Toney
11/06/22
Where is this peaceful utopia of infinite wonder
I've heard much about? I've followed the call of echoes,
and I've searched far and long into the wilderness
I've looked through the haze of morning mist
and peeked through apertures pierced by sunlight
I've relied on the wind for directions, but they blew me
every which way. I've searched the four corners
of my dreams, to no avail. Morpheus, will you kindly
take me there? I just want to briefly get away
from this world gone mad.
Take me to Arcadia to tour the majestic sights on the back
of a satyr, to soar the peaceful sky with the faeries,
to gaze at the stars there at midnight. Isn't this a place
where the rainbow never leave the sky? I want to know
what the zephyr there feels like!
I want to see the place where bliss and beauty reign supreme.
Isn't this also a place where friends and foes, fools and kings
all harmoniously co-exist? Isn't this a place where the wheels
of pleasant dreams are spun? Take me there, won't you,
Morpheus? It haunts my imagination, and how.
Date written and posted: 11/10/2018
Love is non-mechanical
it doesn’t crank, pinion
or always work dependably.
In cavalier moments, I thought I knew
something of how it all works—
it’s apertures and shafts—
its grinds and reciprocations.
I’d judge it’s motions
work its levers, judge its spins,
and address its slippery angles.
You could call me obsessive
but obsessive people don’t
obsess this much.
You could call me compulsive
but the compulsive aren't
this compulsive.
All I can do is poise, balance
or swipe a little black credit card.
It’s the only magic I have.
I can’t turn bread into wine
or fish into water.
I can’t make the blind walk
the deaf to see or the lame to
taste again.
God reserves some miracles,
keeps them as close to the vest
as cards.
Jugglers work the circus,
mimes thrash to communicate,
and tightrope walkers fall.
.
.
Songs for this:
Viva la vida by Cold Play
When There Is Love by Karen Sokolof Javitch
The Rainbow Connection by Sarah McLachlan
.
.
How about a Christmas playlist! Because Christmas is in 10 days!
www.daweb.us/xmas/Christmas_29.mp3
Effervescent dreams
Flow down upon mother’s plate
Chilled by destined fall
A time always remembered
Appearing third time of year
Season of life fades
Human apertures grow weak
Though, knowledge is strong
Love holds different stages
Bonding affections with key
Combined all blessings
Unfold into beauty bold
Each respect enriched
Of their returning faction
Crossing over great divide
To rapture rebirth
Forming times readmission
Natural recourse
Within nature is beauty
Returning humanity
Solitary Moments
Close your eyes and lose yourself, in sweet serenity,
Let your mind’s eye, see things, as you wish they would be.
Find a place of calm, to relax your fast beating heart,
Smile as you dream in wonderment, of life’s segmented parts.
Think not of the chaos, or paths that you have crossed,
Think only of your inner beauty and opportunity costs.
Let your love light shine, in everything you do,
Soon you’ll discover that the key was always within you.
Written By: Sarita A. Milliner © 2/6/16
Inspired by: Relaxation Music CD
Written and performed by: Preston Pisellini
Submitted for Poetry Contest: "Zenith Moments, Apertures & Poems To Calm The Soul"
Sponsored By: Mystic Rose
The breathless seas expire across the shore
as if still more to dramatize decay,
as if the spirit realm were threatening;
unseen the children of the day who swim
within reality you cannot touch,
who bear no name, who are the aliens
encamped upon a planet floating in
a world of dreams
As such, it is illusory to read
the ink upon a non-existent page,
for lucid reverie is ours when we
can touch this fleeing fantasy of skin,
and see just how it molds itself around
our skeleton, creates the apertures
that let us see and hear, the brain that lets
us stop and wonder, and the tear that takes
the moment into memory.
In such a night alone, the love we share
is just a gentle brooding shadow of
beneficence that hovers over all the stones,
the souls in flight,
the messengers of light.
It is the commonality
to which we cling, and some of us
will call it God.
~
whn my eys got stuck on u for frst tym...
d whole world has become so full of lyf n i
ws fine...
dn u hv ur eys on me n it makes dt more
real...
n i ws sucked by downbeat of people
hearin of ds deal....
i ws getin crystld by ur aura n pictures...
i ws chkd by evry drama dt ws held for me
to cut it..
i knw dt people wl laugh at me to c al
dese apertures..
its hard to stay apart frm u whn i hv to
admit it...
around d waves u hv made me laugh hard
n to cherish..
i ws star strucked by ur persona ...which
hlpd me to escape..
i cnt frgt dt tym whn u hv said my aura a
home n make me clownish..
i ws cryin hard inside as i ws scared by
our relation drape..
dn i hv choosen to remain stay apart frm
u lyk a gesture..
n also whn i heard dt u hv been taken by
odr girl..
its just hv pushd me towrds my aim bt
wid more bravure..
i ws standing alone facing wrld wid my
senses birl..
aftr a long tym whn v saw each odr facing
badlucks..
i ws drntchd by d situations n laughin at
our destiny..
nw v r standin lyk an individuals n history
just shucks...
nw v r enjyin d peace alone n waitin for
other scrunity...
love pari
if u likd d poem or if didnt ...just put ur
input wid cmnts....i wud love to observe
dt..
the poet is the ship's Captain
the story is about the sea sailed upon
a tale beneath in the cargo hold
at times the most tranquil of waters
filled with benign waves
become walks along Elysian paths
or a tempest, red skies on the horizon
filling the falling journey into night
no longer now hidden
exposed to the Furies' rage
we are at the helm, quill in hand
where imagination and inspiration
fills the sails of this sojourn
upon acres of dawn's delight
lost in the moon's horizon rising
awaiting the harvest of its grandeur
sailing on without a moment lost
no worry about the surrounding fleet
the cargo we carry is our own
matters not the treasures others possess
because the wealth in this Odyssey
is our accounting of the soul's desires
find the words where boundaries
have to be breached and language
moved to higher peaks
so all the valleys come to know
there are heights where some may go
while sitting beneath the bough
lost in some Idyllic day
read line by line, then take flight
soaring on wings never before experienced
where the soul drinks ever so deeply
from the apertures flowing with nectar
from the Ichor within the poet's quill
OKC 6/22