Best Artistry Poems
In the distance of her dreams,
she whispers for her beloved.
Her yearnings speak to him like poetry,
he has not engraved before,
as he hungers for her to caress him,
like sapphire seas kissing golden sands.
In the artistry of imagination,
in the absence of judgement,
in the naivety of their hearts
enamored eyes reflect like gems
in euphoric enchantment,
enticing their minds to meander,
momentarily kindling,
merging like waves dancing in the wind.
Drifting with the tide, dousing sensual embers,
ripples of passion, desire to remain lost at sea -
ship wrecked in an exotic lover's lagoon.
In the fantasy of fiction,
in the reality of non fiction,
romance has no barriers,
infatuation has no boundaries.
Simple Musing
Silent One
2 February 2020
Blood that screams mixes with tears of fears,
Over your hypocrisy and useless years.
Fresh cuts don't matter - your attentions yet wane.
It's just too easy to shut down, I could end this pain.
But, escape artists aren't artists at all.
When life ends the real journey begins, the journey to be
Above imperfection and glorified weakness everyone sees.
Life trickles into the drain of the sink, wash it and pretend
The veil is burning off,but there is only so much fire can mend
Besides, escape artists aren't artists at all.
You ask if I could drive us to the park
where no impediments of man distract.
Fierce gold and dusky pink as sky grows dark -
we witness yet another glorious act.
Creation draws our eyes to skies above -
the artistry and grandeur of the Lord.
The cosmos demonstrates the Father’s love;
a missing soul-piece wondrously restored.
Thou morning sun, ye stars and orb of night,
ye daunting winds inducing clouds to roll
proclaim thy Maker’s beauty, grace, and might;
thy pirouettes declare His firm control.
Ephemeral these scenes that stir the heart;
eternal are the hands that shape the art.
The heavens declare the glory of God;
the skies proclaim the work of his hands.
Psalm 19:1
Written 2018
Transform me...
weave me slowly
into the silky essence
of ecstasy ~
spellbinding are your stirring threads
of silver and gold -
rich is your tapestry of tender tendrils --
and sacred is the union
of our
tantra breaths
Susan Ashley
July 6, 2018
*Tantra; Sanskrit: literally “loom, weave, system” - Wikipedia.
Tantra represents weaving strands into a unified whole; leaving this piece open to different interpretations of awareness, romance or spirituality based on your perspective*
~ First Place ~
Premiere Contest: July 2018
Sponsor: Brian Strand
The art
of crafting
poetry is
deciding which words to
leave out
[Cinqku]
Written 26 April 2020
I’ll paint you with words
I'll sketch you in sentences
They will read our love
Everybody cooks at their own time and temperature.
Your journey is for you, mine, uniquely, for me.
We are not 'sameness-evolved' meant to be.
We all grow our spirits separately,
so, too, our emotions and philosophies.
Uniqueness serves our soul’s artistry.
Some of us are new souls, others advanced.
Earth-mingling our unique is not circumstance.
If manifesting divine potential were a tangible,
it would be a puzzle of pieces non-sequential.
When souls combine the 'know' their lives did grow,
various, glorious soul-twinkles will truth guide us.
We are same totally loved, differently etched.
Each of us, a spiritual beacon from His Kingdom,
may, in time, entwine to design a brand new Eden.
Green is green and must be that, but blue is none the worse for it.
Six days of work for the Master Artist,
creating a universe, bestowing life.
After looking back on His outline,
God colored emotions for Adam and his wife.
Between His sketches of sea and sky,
Blue hues He chose, endowing serenity.
He awakened nature’s forests with strokes of green,
employing earth tones to convey humility.
Red and yellow flowers He painted to bring joy;
white clouds in the heavens added purity.
Rainbow tints filled God’s world with emotions,
leaving no colors in obscurity.
Before one final act, He debated “free will,”
so desirous that each human life form
be welcome in His eternal kingdom.
But no one, He decided, should be forced to conform.
Material things God created en masse
were mere outlines with possibilities.
To make life worth living, He continued day seven,
giving man love, joy and merciful abilities.
*October 24, 2018
For Curtis Moorman’s contest: “What Did God Do on the Seventh Day?”
November Artistry
Beneath the artist sculptor’s hand
November shapes a changing strand
Hidden beauty seen in the trees
Now revealed through fallen leaves
Twisted branches reach up so high
Artwork thrust in autumnal skies.
Sunshine hues glow in colors grand
And paint each limb in ochre sand
Moonlit boughs shaded and set free –
In crystal frost celebrity –
Alpenglow- mauve shadows’ soft sighs -
Icy dawns in pinks winterize.
Multi-media fairyland
Bright red berries dot this dreamland
Bird nests accent this jubilee
Frisky winds kiss sculptures with glee
November’s masterpieces rise
Remembers December’s surprise!
11-22-20
Contest: November Lay
Sponsor: William Kekaula
For AJ on her 14th Birthday
The leaves have fallen Love
And touched the ground
With such billowing softness
From high they fall and utter no sound
A perfect picture to welcome
The crystal flakes of white snow
Soon to arrive on the hardened back
Of that which the north wind blows
And you my love are nestled
Snug in your grave
Oblivious to changes
That nature has made
The bear is asleep
For a short winters nap
The geese have flown south
At midnight I heard a thousand wings flap
And Love you are nestled
Snug n your grave
Oblivious to the changes
That nature has made
The snow is not deep
The wind has calmed down
I had the trees trimmed
So none would blow down
The forests are quiet and lonely
After natures first snow
Snuggled deep in your grave
You would not know.
Bouquets
Rosebud verse
Tulip stanzas
Wrapped in ribbons of rhyme
For you...
4/22/20
For "Poetry, Poetry" contest
Sponsor: Charles Messina
Shared 1st Place
Lupine eyes shone coal
Untamed fleece ghastly disguise
A pure soul I've seen
Nimkee, enchanted by you-
Raw beauty birthed by nature.
For the A Memory Of Beauty contest by Rick Parise
*Nimkee is an amazing wolf I've the
pleasure to meet a few times.
Artist brush, love filled
Rendering her enchantment
His love on canvas
My trade is printing
commercial web-press printing
Printing is an art
A difficult art
It takes an age of learning
to master this form
Printers are painters
yet we do not use brushes
We paint with machines
And do not use paint
but ink to produce precise
graphic images
We follow Franklin
who wrote a poem for us
(His proud Epitaph)
I refer here to older web printing presses which I used to operate. Of course, today's presses are completely automated. Most of today's press operators would be clueless on the ones I ran. Today, printing is not an art, but a lost art...
By: tryerson
motif: Historical
I say, this is for a delightful poetic playground of golden words I did receive
Transcendence is the pursuant goal for you and I to ascend to and to achieve
The colorful use of lofty words that were chosen by high decrees
Then the words to be transcribe on translucent paper for all to see
For, to speak to; to tell to and to write to poetic these:
Rhymes, similes, alliterations, metaphors, and vibrant imagery
The enabling for the unfolding of hidden scrolls, deep within one’s soul
The artistry uses of the canvas of life, nature and environments told
Writings of phrases philosophical, sublime, unique and esoteric
Yet, strokes are of love, joy, passion, compassion and lamentation
Poetic Artistry as if it was a sculpture chiseled
Then tanned and engraved on fine paper parchments
An unspoken romanticism possible between it and thee
Everlasting masterpieces that makes you gleam and beam