Best Articulations Poems
Upon rising, awakened by
ripening scent teasing my nose,
trilling my lips and tongue, – my taste buds opening
to bird-like songs as dawn's light breathes new life
and hope into my journey, so begins
a fresh flutter of time, an extending
run of exclamatory chirps and wing-full
stretching –
Muse beckons, yielding to artist'
pen and eye – we are co-authors, exchanging
thoughtful leafs and sun-dipped pages; mingling natures,
swapping poetic voice, reversing positions of artist vs model –
conjuring word-images and interactive, painted-canvases – confounding our seasons of
blossoming and harvest, embracing God's budding voice and fruitful manifestations,
His nectar-ed, figurative language, blending human with Divine senses....
displaying contrasts that stimulate exploratory forming
and transitory shading – clearing and clouding
affects both inside and on my outside, as the clutter of
yesterday, and promise of a spring-like showers soak
crusty sediments with saturating, fertile possibilities;
all taking bows – the theater that of spiritual mastery –
Mystery is
my source, my echo, my chambered growth.
My resources, exploitable enclaves of poetic walls, primed,
awaiting both solid and abstract vibrations, energizing
experimental blurbs, those planned and random into searchable
articulations, grasping, too often vainly, for fantastical alliteration
of sterile, common-place views –
I am deepened and ready to let air
we are each our best audience
my left-hand meeting your right
for a brisk clap of inspiration followed
by riotous applause....
She’s rolled up with patience
dedication and faith in the Lord;
her strictness punctuated a shared vision
that focused on learning acquisition.
Her punctuality, precision, and determination
to teach her pupils with discipline and right focusing;
as a rule of thumb she always obeyed
made the essence of what music means to all.
Rain or shine she’s there in her cubicle
waiting for her pupils scheduled to take their lessons;
those Hanon exercises, arpeggios, and other finger articulations
would lead off in concentration or warm-up in every lesson.
Perhaps she’s a scarecrow to some who hadn’t known her;
but she’d a listening heart described as a story line;
with depth and assurance that no one is denied,
along with other slow learners who coped with perseverance.
Truly, her endless word to slow down in every measure,
her technique that entailed so much discipline and correction
through memory lane I still remember a constant repetition;
her affinity for perfection that requires discipline and proportion.
She’s a teacher keenly aware of her pupils’ emotions,
her generosity explained either in time or learning a score;
as a sign and meaning to pedagogical association
with thriving efforts to play the music with technique and precision.
She’s held in the affectionate memory of her pupils,
their collective thoughts about her fittingly honored her
a woman like her with a horizon of meaning to everyone
a true Filipino educator with a glowing torch in her soul
and her music sustained my vocation to go on.
Its magical link to depth and soul of human expression,
its beauty and inspiration that kept me to deepen my own calling;
to make piano sing in the balance of emotion, technique and celebration
a way to experience Him with wonders and beauty – limitless world.
Maraming salamat , Maestra Marina M Diokno!
I really missed you; I really treasured whatever you taught me;
your strong affinity for virtuousity, allegato and sostenuto,
indeed, a memory lane suffused with gratitude and threads of appreciation.
That wide open plan,
The desktop area so spacious,
A vast canvas so beautiful;
Why do you sit there,
Open to all for their curiosity?
When you to me call.
Oh cupboard, that hard disk brimming with identity,
Memory no problem, even lacking files;
Proficiently organised with raging delight,
Amorous filing system which you employ.
All disks are obvious, seen by me,
Begging to be viewed, added to or changed,
Offering usage stats and permissions,
That are not just the programmer’s privilege,
But any users' decree.
No LOGO, no dos,
No text-based system to beat,
No floppies to be distorted,
By the drives' magnetic wheels.
Encrypted files are offered,
But that requires some introspection,
About whether or not your loved one,
Would really infiltrate your disk,
And read your documents.
My computer is a reflection of me,
My order or my mayhem;
No longer my prowess and endeavour,
‘Cos my articulations are my graft,
Not the machine’s mechanisations.
Abdul abjects about abominable aberrations and abominations about adulation.
Adulation, adoration and add adulteration as an aberration of approbation.
All Abdul's articulations about administrations admiration’s and amalgamation
and accumulation as an alleviation and annexation about Abdul's alienation.
***For Gwendolen's contest, "Tongue twister."
In its whisperings and articulations
A searchlight into that hidden recess
The bane of acquisitions
Becomes the flight from humility
On which freedom rests
Shall we render benefaction of such
Crude and insidious notions.....
Oh, seek you so freely after greatness
Amidst the lands of thought and realties;
Dare you with cupped hands, drink deeply of wisdom’s waters,
That the brain not be found inebriated by false ideologies…
Thinking, from within the vast Pied-à-terre of your brow,
Discovering, self ingenuously endowed.
Mind over matter vs. matter over mind,
Explore now the winds of fact and fiction,
Let your spirit soar and true knowledge you shall find.
Speaking with candor and clear articulations
living not for want of foolish desires;
yet, for the wondrous joys of learning -- aspire.
Think beyond the box that once pained the mind, being set free.
Stand firmly in silence, hear and embrace knowledge
within a continuity of will, filled by hopes, strengthened by certainty. ~ Believe
O’ acumen’s root liken to the growth of the tiny mustard seed
Which fostered properly spreads into the strongest of trees.
Open the eyes of your heart‘s being, freely gifted by this love
Continually enduring throughout the generations
Accepting in truth receive of the Empowered One
Then may you find, the greatness you seek…
Branches holding slimy, leafy, hopping...
ear buzzing... sticky Two-edged sword whipping -
neon articulations!
THE WORDS CAME OUT ...
I am the mannequin metal hinges rusted articulations
The unfeeling solid dead wood that swirls with patterns
The unctuous rat flickering black eyed damp molasses tipped fur he's
wet drenched sweat
runs circles in my brain fur like nicotine stains run run running rat
in my brain as I fret
He smiles as he circles round again "you will die soon" wiggles his
whiskers and runs again
The death of you comes on in an instant no glint of shimmering hope
Hot air speak words forming vibration carried anvil to drum send the
message straight through. a punctured symphonic cacophony
No arrow more materially solid can outdo words This will kill you.
Words,words, words they are naught but air imbued with magical quality
of affecting reality changing futures, fabricating pasts. They wage
wars they posses power--- to kill, heal, entice, steal, excite, defy you,
eulogize you ---death in an instant by words The words: I don't love
you anymore.
Sitting betwixt these margins outside their box; exactly
Where they wish as need to be ? Growing somewhat weary
Artsy-craftsy's aurora australis articulations; dangling in poetics
Literaturistic high wires acts an arobic miscalculation ? Lese majesty
Essential's evolution morphed their scenes alabaster she and, a revolution.
The crust which formed 4 billion years ago,
Only came at the extinction of the molten,
And the microbial mat fossils keenly found
From 3.48bn years ago, came from graphite!
Over 99% of all known species are extinct,
Vital life is just a specification of yourself,
You will influence others for better or worse,
Life is ours and not god’s to mould or sculpt.
Those who are by you truly most inspired,
Will inevitably become strong, bit like you,
To supersede, to survive in another’s place,
Such that humankind is becoming better.
Speciation by niche events is very beautiful,
It codes life by behaviour and not by speech,
Inherited genes are based on action, deed,
Rather than on religious articulations devious.
Mass extinction is not normal, ending comes
To every species of any kind in every society:
Up to half of today’s plant and animal species,
Will be extinct by 2100 without question, doubt.
Death is ok, universal, and happens to us all,
It’s normal, and from it comes something good:
From death’s non-entity, speciation happens,
Which allows life’s structures to flow vibrantly.
Evolution does not exclude anyone, no one,
Not the week, not the disabled, not a starfish,
Every individual’s struggle and pride matter,
And the fit, moral, are modelled and mimicked.
SILENCE
Articulations bound by another’s place.
Maw silenced, no expressions from this face.
Inarticulate, the lingna moves not for Beauty.
Vocal cords caught, a voice sought.
Yet no lyrical, poetic vibrations projected.
Pinna, tympanic membrane never again to be affected?
Silences, preponderates the roar between a reality and memory.
Mnemosyne, perched on high, tells the story.
Mneme gives insight, with insight, no glory.
For all, fear, fear it has come to an end.
No longer a supposition ?, a bestfriend?
To hold out for a touch, may prove too much.
Auricle, not the Oracle, to believe.
The heart blinds, it doth deceive.
Love ?, did the soul ever receive?
It flounders at the bottom of boundless seas.
B. J. "A" 2
August 15th 2011
Shuffling wreck, legacy of a life well spent;
Knees creaking, clicking articulations, a
Spine complaining, shoulder crunching.
Legs spindly toothpicks beneath a pregnant olive,
A-cups sagging. Lungs afire at the
Leaping up of stairs, gasping breaths.
A visit to the dungeon of torture, the gymn,
Where perceptions of self are confronted in
cruel mirrors, is penance for past sins…unredeemed
By virtuous exercise. Knee twisting racquets,
With pounding pavements adding compression
To shearing, pilgrimage to salvation is denied.
Red faced, setting pull-down weight to half that
Of the buff young woman who has gone before;
Forte pulse ostinato in ears, setting an impossible
Rhythm for reps, double figures a hopeful ambition.
The clock high on the wall has slowed to an idle
Saunter, refusing to sprint to an acceptable departure.
Ah Me! An evening cocktail awaits: no
Peaty single malt, or fragrant G&T,
But a brimming glass of tepid water,
And the difficult swallow of this pill
And that capsule, all designed to keep
The crumbling body together and flourishing.
But the Sun shines; a friend calls, dinner is agreed,
Igniting smouldering anticipation of delight that sends
Intimations of mortality to cower in a dusty corner
Of the mind. And the back straightens; vision clears,
Seeing self in happier light, vague twinges are ignored,
Sulking. Living is renewed, with currency yet to spend.
New WholeSum Yearly Information
Articulation
Elocutions
Evolutions
Ecolution
Eartholution
Ecologics
Earth ReGenerate Revolution
Earth Health Enculturing Solution
EarthBound Rivival Articulations
Translation
Transliteration
Transformation
Transubstantiation
Transmutation
MultiCultural TransFiguration
PolyCultural
PolyMorphic
PolyPathic
PolyMathic
PolyPhonic
PolyParadigmatic PolyVagal Therapeutic Outcomes
PolyCulturally Landscaped OrthoPraxis
BeLoved PolyCultural Communicants
BiCameral Articulators of Time's Zero-Centric BiLaterality
of EgoYangAuthentic AND EcoYintegral Balance
of EarthTribe's RNA/DNA PolyGenitors
looking through transcendent Sunlight
feeling immanently warm Earthpowers
Reviving polyvagal health-wealth
(0)Mega Tipping Points
toward polypathic co-redemption
InterReligiously invoking
panentheistic paradigms
mystically whispered
mysteriously thriving
transformative transliterations.
"A personal shout-out to our sponsors and their vapid articulations who made this message possible," ... by The Poet.
Poets and poetesses ascribe to a greater call,
in their endeavors to make their chosen path a cure-all
from those who trivialize and minimize their virtuous
field of poetry's righteous domain and their arduous
measures to maintain a certain quality in their works
of art, to the world of writers past and present, networks
that tethers a fragile grasp on absolutes discipline,
and severance from the mundane, effortless, and simpleton,
out from the left field, melodramatic, sugarcoating,
southpaws are unreasonable and consequently, nothing
our opponents that come out from the left field properly
have no concept of true value to offer poetry.
AN INSTRUMENT
&
THE PLAYER
Once upon a time - not so long ago - encountered, was this exotic GU ZHENG. Fate, placed this lovely Instrument, into the hands of an old player, a musician who had been laid to rest, who had lain dormant, frozen in time, among the ashes of reflections of the music he once played, music that created the sights and sounds that made up the visions he now looks into, of his past.
This old man's abilities - decaying, flaccid from so many years of neglect and impotency - came to life, to life with such desire, that it made possible, movements from his tired old mind, mouth, hands and fingers that would play sounds, vibrations of heavenly music, that would sing to the ears of his lost old soul, lifting his spirit to heights once only known to his youth now to extro into the world of the living, once again, fingers - like that of the gods - gliding over this elegant, sweet Instrument, caressing her with whispered strokes, much like those of silent breezes on a clear, worm summer's day as they slide across the quivering strings of this beautiful GU ZHENG, that now - after so brief a moment, making such heavenly articulations -has given up the music, ending the dance, turning down low, the lights that once, where as brilliant as a million suns, and taking the music - silently drifting across the players recollections of tunes they once danced to -and slipping it into the hands of another .
The old musician slips into a cloak of sadness, of dark dirges he puts into his own words, plays from his instrument, - the broken heart - plucking at it's dead strings, bringing to life the blues, the song of his awakening .
B. J."A" 2
February 16th 2011