Best Copper Poems
Enhanced by peaceful solitude, in twilight, crimson crowned
She stood in tensile grace, unmoved. Enchantment in disguise
Lightly splashed by back light, where the tender grass had grown
A white tailed doe, was grazing there, aware and keen of eye
She perked up ears, alert for sound, yet, still she had not flown
Dare I break the silent calm, with breath or just a sigh?
Or take a step, in chance my foot might rustle twig or loam?
This stance of wills,...intense and poised. Would she dare to flee?
She perked up ears, alert for sound, yet still she had not flown
A monumental moment, as she stood before my eyes
First stabbed by startled fear, new trust came pouring down
There, in tensile grace she stood, enchantment in disguise
Caressed in beauty, and sun embraced, revealed for me alone
Dare I break the silent calm, with breath or just a sigh?
First stabbed by startled fear, new trust came pouring down
Eyes made of glass, as windows are, in which the iris tongue
We made no move...each one transfixed, no air in lungs to breathe
So inter-laced, with life force crossed, in universal one
Our spirits twined against the sky, beneath the copper trees
____________________________________________________________
Enhanced by peaceful solitude, in twilight, crimson crowned
There, in tensile grace she stood, enchantment in disguise
Lightly splashed in backlight, where the tender grass had grown
A monumental moment, as she stood before my eyes
First stabbed by startled fear, new trust came pouring down
There, in tensile grace she stood, enchantment in disguise
Caressed in beauty, and sun embraced, revealed for me alone
Dare I break the silent calm, with breath or just a sigh?
First stabbed by startled fear, new trust came pouring down
A white tailed doe, was grazing there, aware and keen of eye
She perked up ears, alert for sound, yet, still she had not flown
Dare I break the silent calm, with breath or just a sigh?
Or take a step, in chance my foot could rustle twig or loam?
This stance of wills...intense and poised, a fleeting chance to flee
She perked up ears, alert for sound, yet still she had not flown
Eyes made of glass, as windows are, in which the iris tongue
We made no move...each one transfixed, no air in lungs to breathe
So inter-laced, with life force crossed, in universal one
Our spirits twined against the sky, beneath the copper trees
As darkness descends.
Tranquil as time flows past.
With this precious rest.
Led out on the grass.
Sleepless slumber in dreamlike clarity.
Summer thunder above a scenic prairie.
Seeing the butterflies colours vary.
As they flutter by with the lullaby fairies.
Therapeutic beauty in cloudless horizons.
Mountains fade as red skies widen.
Sound of crickets and ribbeting frogs.
Playing there their joyful songs.
Away from our shadows of immense achievement.
Breathing, seeing love in front, this season, gold and frequent, priceless parables told in tales and seen invaluable.
Soft as silks of sun set diamonds.
Shining, it's last light shall guide us.
Safely to places where nowhere compares.
Through heavenly meadows to our home we share.
copper tins on shelf
gleaming panner’s gold
— priceless faux lighting
4/2/2018
Sitting here not wanting to run
from eyes that shine like a copper sun.
All that you say and do seems right
Your happiness- it shines so bright.
You can feel it as do I.
Just as an ocean’s waves,
how we feel can only ebb and flow
but it never really goes-
completely away you soon must go.
We have eternity yes I know.
There doesn’t have to be any goodbyes you say
but in the end I keep telling myself this is the way.
The way for me to move on while we’re apart,
for me to remember all the help you’ve been,
as well as a wonderful friend.
But still a goodbye won’t heal my heart.
I know it’s silly but yes it’s true,
I can’t imagine a day of my life without you there,
Showing just how much you care.
Never caring what I look like or wear
Because to you I always looked beautiful.
But not just on the outside, you saw my soul
and knew how to make me whole
and then persued your goal.
That day in ninth grade is a day I’ll never forget.
It changed my life and has given me,
a chance to see how much I am loved
by a kind and gracious God from up above.
You changed my life and now don’t you see
Why it’s so hard for me?
Hard for me to let you go after all the time-
Time that we spent together
and that felt like it would go forever.
You said I meant so much to you
and you knew you just had to hand me that book.
then all it took was one look
for me to see all you believed was true!
Which is why now I will let you go trusting,
trusting that in time God will make everything fine.
That somehow, someday
You’ll be sent my way.
And hopefully if and when he does,
I will be worthy of someone as wonderful and kind as you.
I don’t know what else to say but forever and always
I love you.
I truly do.
COPPER SUN
copper sun dissolves
into eventide’s dark sea
reflection of light
8/7/2017
A COPPER PENNY
The significance of a copper penny…
It’s part of our heritage
Being raised in the copper mining area
Of Ruth, Nevada
Fathers and brothers worked for
The Kennecott Copper Mining Corporation
Both abhorred and sacrificed for
It was a job
The dirt was copper colored
There was no gazebo
No water
No arboretum
The only wish made was for the bell
At the end of the day
Men
Working
Sweating
Crying
Dying
The copper colored beer with elbowed sleeves
On copper tile
Laborers draught
The copper penny
The juke box
Seen in the dance of the copper leaves in fall
Twenty and thirty years on
It’s not gold
An entirely different color
The copper leaves rake sweetness layered
Pilings high
Dancing in the breeze
A “Little” Fugue in G Minor
The Classical Power
Given by Time-Life living divided
Spent
Leaving
Wondering where it is
The beauty, the color, the penny
An Old Copper Vase – A Second View
an old copper vase
a witness of age
saw a lot
during times—
but all new to me.
the grace of the
experienced one
shall share it
with everybody
who is
willing to listen.
so
the old
and
the new
are
coming together
in a
new-found way
never expected
to find everything
that is needed
on their
individual path.
grace and openness
shall help
on the way.
Gary Bateman and Ingrid Krukenberg-Bateman
A Collaborated Poem
Copyright © All Rights Reserved
September 30, 2018 (Imagism)
Was there more between us,... than luck?
How long were you buried, in your shallow grave beneath the oak?
And just when I needed to know the secret of hope,
you whispered out good fortune with your burnished breath.
How long were you buried in your shallow grave beneath the oak,
then rising from the shiver of crumbling, copper leaves?
You whispered out good fortune with your burnished breath,
to lighten the shadows of my grief
Then rising from the shiver of crumbling, copper leaves,
you patiently waited for the perfect moment.
To lighten the shadows of my grief,
you revealed a wizened, tarnished face to me
You patiently waited for the perfect moment.
And just when I needed to know the secret of hope
you revealed a wizened, tarnished face to me
Was there more between us,.... than luck?
....................................................................
For Rhonda's and Cyndi's Penny Pantoum Contest
(Copper Penny....USA)
An Old Copper Vase – A First View
a rustic object
with
a worn-weathered look
symbolizing
both
an artistic beauty
and
a metaphorical grandeur
when filled
with a few
red or yellow roses
it resonates
a certain emotion
and
it presents
and
it paints
an indelible
image and memory
that
cannot be forgotten
this is made
all the more
compelling
by
its rough-rustic nature
and
its physical view
from afar
which is
at once—
defining and dominating
and is
captivating and absolute.
Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved
September 30, 2018 (Imagism)
Pennies are made of worthless copper that even a hungry beggar
refuses to pick up; either I threw them away or kept them in a piggy jar,
but the day came when need and desperation made me rethink
of their worth...a thousands of them could had gotten me far;
A rich person collects not as a poor one who is always on the brink...
has someone looked for them when rough times kept them from that bazaar?
Pennies are made of worthless copper that nobody wants to own,
unless they are, at least, fifty years old...what would President Lincoln,
think of our antipathy for his imprinted image on these little coins?
Do you possess many of these? Save them for those rainy days!
Pennies are made of worthless copper, everybody seems repined,
humiliated and embarrassed to carry them in their purse, or pocket...
look around: they are found everywhere on a sidewalk, or in a parking lot;
make all aware they are convenient to have for easiness of mind!
Love is fake and hate is real, some people say,
And I know why they feel and see it this way.
Hate is base, more available, and far more accessible
Easily expressible, you can hardly fail be successful.
Love is just a little further, a bit more extreme;
It takes effort and creativity, so fake it may seem.
But copper roses don’t ever wilt away - that I will say;
The effort we put into loving others is here to stay.
When we hate another, we see our reflection in inferiors, but angrily turn and deny it’s there,
But with enough effort we recognize our complexion in those mirrors and find that we care.
Because love and hate aren’t disagreeable opposite sides of one coin;
They are a mere difference of degrees; and in definition they’re joined.
Both are forms of seeing your reflection in your annoying mother or brother,
But love means you recognize it – hate is just the ignorant form of the other.
So if someone can hate you, then they can love you if they just look a little further and wonder, and get past the ignorance keeping us all back;
If we just try a little harder, we can love those we otherwise attack.
So thank you for working a lot harder, seeing past your grief, and making the incredible attempt
To love those who make your belief in angels more defensible than your belief in them.
Layer upon layer of copper leaves,
Lay here, and all around.
As the birch tree lost it's canopy,
And carpeted the ground.
Beneath my feet, some ankle deep
Some falling through the air.
Autumn's gusts gathered strength,
And spread them, everywhere.
Entry for Autumn Colours Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Nayda Ivette Negron
15/9/2017
“The lives of stone How rich they must be”
-Delphine, wife of Auguste Escoffier
Betrayed by ghosts
Alive in drifting candle smoke
Stain memories relinquished in time
Gathered in joyous gildings, now lost
Truth is not welcome
Only the essence of imagination
The essence
Of imagination
*Dedicated to the King of Chefs- Auguste Escoffier
12/29/11
drink your 5 year old milk,
boy! I know where you live, stop painting your nails
like a girl, boy! Aging copper
tones cut corners in my ink-
stained eyes from the lies you told, melted from the heat
surrounding this empty day. From the dust
the day arises, filling in the gap between the other dust
which is now floating in your milk.
Oh horrid image of powder-milk—in the heat,
No less! An image I would have nailed
To the back of the ink-
Tarnished vapors in your head, loner. It all goes copper
Under the sun’s furious copper—
Melting rays. Ashes to dust
To my pen, once full of ink,
Now wasted. No use cryin, spilled milk
Is the least of your trials. Nail
It to your face and watch it ferment in sun’s heat.
Heat that will kill you. Heat
That will burn you up and melting copper
That I didn’t want anway—like copper nails—
Only in existence to Bind me Rusty or turn me to green dust,
Worthless anyway. Then I wouldn’t have to drink your damn milk
I’d get my own nutrients instead—I’d drink the ink
From my pen. My soul comes out inky,
Spills dark revelations on a page that burns in the heat
Of my gaze, always staring. Then dowsed in milk
To cover the burning sensation of my copper
Nose. Amethyst, the shiny purple—also to dust
It turns. We build jeweled crutches out of nails,
Crutches we use to walk on, or trip over the deadly spikes of bedded nails
Jutting forth its powerful poisonous ink
Staining all that was once good, makes it dusty
And kills me, burns at the stake, the heat,
Too much to bear. Dangling my copper
Jewelry singes my white milky
Skin. Using my nails I scratch me for never drinking enough milk.
Melted ink pours over rich copper
Which turns to dust…I’m done with this last sip of milk.