Best Charcoals Poems
So… during basketball season… our manager, Anna,
would sit by me on the bench.
After Christmas,
I told her about Nana drawing with charcoals.
I told her about how I wanted to buy her charcoals
so she would draw again.
I told Anna about how Nana won’t draw anymore
because she used to draw…
when Papa was sick.
(I was telling Anna all of this because she likes to draw
and mentioned she likes charcoals the best)……..
All that being said…
Anna gave me the most beautiful charcoal drawing
of a basketball on a wooden floor.
It is framed and really big.
You can tell that she put time into it
and really wanted it to be pretty.
When I opened it in class today,
I was so surprised……
and told her it was beautiful.
She smiled at me and said,
“I drew that because of the story you told
me about your grandma.”
I bawled like a little kid.
Just that the story would influence her, and
inspire her to draw that for me.
It is awesome.
I had forgotten that we even talked about drawing…….
She didn’t.
That story meant something to her.
And that is why people teach.
Do you really think, that I am going to trade my eternal soul,
for your bowl of germ infested puke? Think again!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
O' sullen sullies of darkness....
How you often paint yourself so very innocent and pretty
While you drool at the corners of the edges of jagged
Within your ever deceiving, and your taintedly twisted smile and corroding mouth
Galloping around as if you were some fortitude of light and wisdom?
Amid these pretentious comforts, cast, from within a hollowed and daggered heart
Just as long, as you can capture everyone else, within your chains of bindings
Bound, unto your own darkened perspectives, beneath, your clinching claw sharpened
grasp....
Eructing your molten lavas, spewed, of your gargoylish poisoned vomit
Upon the lives of those who are somewhat already blind, themselves?
Offering your beguiling and benumbing putrid stench, to alluringly, lure them in
Into the depths, of your own black widow webbed horror show....
While pounding upon your chest, as if you were the conqueror of them all?
As you leave your trails of excrement and slime, within the dust, of your ever slithering wake
These your offerings, before all of Heavens disbelieving and watchful eyes!
Unto the unknowing and eternal souls, which you try so desperately, to swallow whole!
But your indignities and godlessness, will not escape your forthcoming demise....
For your manglings, disfigured, shall lead unto your own wraths, pending doom....
And yet for now, you do still stand, unscathed, within your wantingly amissful ignorance
Projecting unto others, as if you were some sort of mighty tower, in which they, should
believe?
But knowing deep inside of yourself the truth, of how very feeble and lost, you truly are!
Standing in front of this melting mirror, within your plotting poisoned mind....
A flower of the darkest soils, charcoals of crimsons ashes, your burning, and scorching flames
Lucifers child, of the neverendings, forever, and endless pain...."You!"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
....Darkness Falls....
{The final kiss}
The muted tones of yesterday...
Soft pastels of kids at play--
Lovers on a summer's day,
Charcoals of a moonlit May.
But watercolors fade away--
So too, the moonbeam's downy ray.
Some paintings seem to change that way...
How fleet, the hues of yesterday!
~Mel
Plants, Trees, Hills, and Grass
White shed black trim corner back
School and Park with kids
Path near fence where two dogs track
Green, Brown, Orange, Yellow, Red, Black
Five Pines fifty years
Rock garden and sidewalk near
Lilac Bushes two
Squirrels, Chipmunks, Birds fly through
Expanse of sky white and blue
Back yard oasis singing
Leaves like bells ringing
Barbeque Charcoals on fire
Burgers, Brats, cooked to desire
Gazing admiringly upon her mesmerizing photo; lovely
Her spellbinding in beauty's enchanting, Gypsy Queen...
Never having truly been one whom delves into pictures
That they might take flight beyound, their still frames ?
Not amid this light surely these, her hues; quiet refrain
Poetics muse; etched of charcoals splendours a canvas
She as dark flowing hair cascading deep velvet streams
Bronzed perfection pondering her heart, and silhouette
Dreams brush black their white, blue; click, in sanguine.
Into the grooves of sunset fair
when meadows forget time of hours
I climb inside the worlds and dare
to relish the budding of flowers
where charcoals play around bonfire
wrapped in hues of different skin
starlight glows with your eyes' pyre
meeting you as we first begin.
Any Old Poem # 9
SKETCHING
charcoals soft lines
in varied shades of grey
birds in flight their feathers spanned light
captured in detail through blue heavenly heights
an artist’s creation emerges
blank pages come to life
with every stroke
SKETCHING
(Inspired by watching my artistically talented daughter-in-law
sketch a “Verreaux Eagle” in the Champagne Valley Drakensberg)
© Kim van Breda—3 August 2015
Iniquities vertical archways
Traversing twilights retro
Drafted abysmal shadows
Aneath the roses bush...
Coloured acrylic murals
Acidics transcending
Medievils vague ambulant
Abstract mystique ?
Embellished cerium
Charcoals as that of gothics
In vitro; masque'd
Achromatic architectural
Envisioned designs...
Gomorrah's holistic
Gargoyles; a black plagues
Overture amid, Nefarious
Nepenthes, garden of her eden.
The time to be born has come and gone
The present we know about her is our history
A manifest to her existence in the map and in the head.
This time is yet to unveil her bystanders.
Though in written, she is known to be free
But in words and actions she is shielded
By weed, grasshoppers, termites and tortoise.
Now, should we use fins and flippers
To propel ourselves through her bloody sea?
OR do we need any soothsayer to announce
The burns of a lustful shielded cabinet to us?
Dear Charcoals, time without number
We are blinded to accept a crown
We are forced to be subservient to a staff,
And we have sold our loyalty by queuing behind the meadow.
If surely the time will tell
Then we need to look up to our history
That is yet to appear before the land
Let hope for an upright serving servant soon.
And hope to behold a time to tell.
Magical Malediction of Exasperated Want,
Passion Fruit splayed Eyes of the World
Are Cumming
For Christmas Charcoals
And Incinerated House Hold Pets
(Under Trees.)
Have you Gotten your Ticket Yet?
Don’t want to be left out
In the cold cold Ugliness,
Now Would’ ya?
Fragile, So Don’t try and Get away,
I’m Quite sure your legs and Arms and Dainty Bits
Would Chip like Glass and Bullets Dance
Or Truth be Told
And Told in Crass,
You’d m()uck
And m()uck
Your Last ‘n Chance.
“Boys jacking off in school toilets, by sight, know each other as agents of Galaxy X.”
But do you know? And know it slow? Oh Honey face.
Snapped room and strangely Flat,
Mangled inhuman Waiters of poison Smut.
Gather Round
Serving part and rest-stopTrays, Of, Larceny as
The New Citizen.
Violation of the Sanitary Code,
Squealing Certified doorways
Lead to Crack
(But not the Crack you Might think I’m talking of)
The Kind that Hides and Peaks,
The Kind that Speaks and Speaks,
Oh, Of! and About!
Those Long and Magical Maledictions
Of Exasperated Want.
Like Subtle brown Hairs, Revealed in harsh and Unforgiving Fluorescent Light,
And in short,
As you mother might say,
-I am The Hero-
-You Hate-
-thend-
An empty studio:
the man of the passionate handwriting
belts his dog
come my glory, my plebeian bride
hamster bagels
glitter indeed:
meticulously chosen bbq charcoals
as whimsical jewellery
“I’m so on fire and hear the wind”
Your grabbers, call them back
let me su.su
“No, don’t touch me now,
let me talk”
After a long time
you invited me to keep
Feet on your dream land
To invade your heart !
After a long fight
I was defeated by me
Defeated by your wild desire !
Now –
I am singing
The fifth symphony of first Shower !
Now, I am playing guitars on my heart
With tunes of Compassion
And in a glimpse,
See you sitting under the shadows
Of our embraced hearts !
The long road trodding to paradise
Now, is waiting for your arrival
I see your desolate heaves !
I hear drum beatings of clouds
Inside the geometry of my rib-cage.
After a long tune
Beside the boundary of Country life
Amidst unusual death
I see, love is burning silently
In the pyre of green leaves of youth !
Aftermath –
Only charcoals of woe left
On the grave yard of time
Oh ! After a long time ….
Iniquities vertical archways traversing twilights retro
Drafted abysmal shadows aneath the roses; gethsemanes inquisition
Coloured acrylic murals in acidic transcending medievils
Vague ambulant abstract mystique..
Embellished cerium charcoals as that her gothics in vitro, masque
Achromatic architectural envisioned designs; Gomorrah's evanescence
Holistic gargoyles be his black plagues overture amid
Nefarious nepenthes, garden of Eden....
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
....American Graffiti!?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Iniquities vertical archways traversing twilights retro
Drafted abysmal shadows aneath the roses; gethsemanes inquisition
Coloured acrylic murals in acidic transcending medievils
Vague ambulant abstract mystique....
Embellished cerium charcoals as that of gothics in vitro, masque
Achromatic architectural envisioned designs; gomorrahs evanescence
Holistic gargoyles of the black plagues overture amid
Nefarious nepenthes, garden of eden....
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
....American Graffiti!?
Rippling winds sandunes of time,
taking me back as I hear a faint chime.
rolling rows of golden wheat,
as my heart dances and skips a beat.
Bursts of laughter fading off in the distance,
it plays in my mind as I fight the resistance.
Sapphire skies and charcoals of gray,
these hands of time I wish I could stay.
Looking out into endless feilds of wildflowers,
feeling energized as my soul endours.
Whipers of dawn chanting in my ears,
chasing away all heartfelt tears.
Magic falls in all corners of the earth,
like the day we were born with moments of our birth.
Shadows dance as the moon starts to rise,
as thirsty stars fill up the majestic skies.
Fireflys fly with fairies in sight,
like the freedom of flying a soaring kite.
Childhood dreams return once more,
deep corners of my mind I so carelessly soar.