Best Depicting Poems
A Poet’s Abode
A poet’s peaceful abode surpasses bliss
Depicting imagery beheld by eyes.
Dreams revealed go beyond the great abyss
Of space with stars that fill our cobalt skies.
The elements alone express such truth
That sun needs balance of the rain to grow
Sprout varied seedlings that begin in youth
Then we reap our harvest by autumn’s glow.
The beauty of a rainbow through the rain,
The way the sunrise colors us in shades,
How beating hearts behold our joy or pain.
A poet captures hues as twilight fades.
When quill releases ink and does not miss
A poet’s peaceful abode surpasses bliss.
7-21-22
~Premiere Contest N/A~
2022 Poetry Marathon Mile 9 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Mark Toney
5-28-22
~Poem of the Day May 30, 2022~
Thank you Poetry Soup Team
~Fifth Place Premiere Contest~
Orphan Sonnet Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Emile Pinet
A Brian Strand PREMIERE~N/A~
Contest Judged: 5/30/2022 9:54:00 PM
Sponsored by: Brian Strand
Orphan Sonnet
Created by: Dale Gregory Cozart with a rhyme scheme of Abab - cdcd - efef - aA, (I0 syllables per line) in three quatrains, and a final couplet with the last line repeating the opening line.
Used:
https://www.howmanysyllables.com/syllable_counter/
Photo by: https://houston.culturemap.com/news/city-life/06-21-16-have-you-got-a-favorite-poem-let-the-city-of-houston-know-right-now/
In the valley
of violin vines,
when the saffron sun ascends,
and crooning clouds
drift in mulberry cadence,
I let my quivering quill harmonize
mystical moonbeams
splattered across
hushed horizons~
with sparkling strings
of stardust,
as ink paints a
panorama of primrose promises,
from spring scented
sonatas scattered
in symphonic hues
of sangria syllables,
thawing
frost-clutched fauna,
while butterflies flutter
amongst floating florals,
depicting whispers
of my hyacinth heartbeat.
But something about
the way sakura
blossoms fall like rain,
traces picturesque
lines of my
lyrical confessions,
composed like
a chromatic chorus,
that savors
kismet kisses,
of a love woven
with
twinkling
tendrils in
tangerine twilight,
and when you
return like
pirouetting jasmines,
I feel the
ambrosial aura
of Persephone
emerge from
the darkest
caves of Hades,
bringing back
empyrean euphoria,
and here I let
nature unfurl
a choir of
singing sunflowers
and waltzing wisterias,
performing
classical serenades,
amidst trumpet trees
sprouting ivory petals,
in dulcet idioms,
veiling toxic tales.
But today,
as rays of gold
adorn my skyline,
I think of tender truth
transcribed in
theatrical tunes,
like
zenith of zealous zephyr
eternally rippling
blue rose breeze
across Monet’s
balmy meadow.
"I have been a stranger in a strange land." Bible, Exodus 2:22
I have been a stranger
I have been in a strange land
Land of forsaken frangipanis
Land of black diamonds
Diamonds never decay
Diamonds forever sparkle
Sparkle like neon fireflies
Sparkle amidst darkness
Darkness depicting light
Darkness illuminating skies
Skies sketched in topaz tints
Skies mirroring my spirit
Spirit of a forlorn wanderer
Spirit of a firm believer
Believer veiled unseen
Believer sings hymns unheard
Unheard sagas of truth
Unheard tunes of time
Time twirls through confusion
Time enveloped in silence
Silence is a fragrant dialect
Silence is misunderstood
Misunderstood yet deafening
Misunderstood monologues
Monologues of the strawberry moon
Monologues of sunflower scriptures
Scriptures of sacred seasons
Scriptures lost in deserted dunes
Dunes of healing heartbeats
Dunes of forgotten dreams
Dreams of a midnight Jasmine
Dreams of a faded star
Star that guides the raven dusk
Star that flickers pink gold
Gold is the color of faith
Gold ribboned with hope
Hope is an emerald home
Hope is a thriving tulip
Tulip personifies awakening
Tulip honeyed in harmony
Harmony from serenades of serenity
Harmony of singing sunrise
Sunrise painted in poetry
Sunrise and rainbows
Rainbows with quartz runes
Rainbows of colored revelations
Revelations unnamed
Revelations untold
Untold…
Unnamed…
Poverty and hunger are bedfellows.~ The Poet~
Alluring, pleading
Yet it will burn,
Pangs of hunger
Immanent yearn.
Desperate child
So forlorn
For the poverty
To which she was born.
Minds meant to be astute,
Mental distortion
So destitute.
The steaming broth
Humbly offered,
No wrath for their plight
No relief in sight
The bounty so meager
The child so eager
The brushstrokes in blue
Setting the scene
A feeling to subdue,
With empathy pains
The artist explains.
She surges forward, hands raised.
Using hues to convey the mood.
Begging for some food.
Depicting the sign of the time.
It’s far from fine.
All this hyped up glam and glitz
giggly girls break down in fits
these mascara clad boys devoid of wits
The shallower they go, the deeper it gets
Sillouettes lacking inner angles and lines...
The substance goes absent when the light shines...
Plotless drama without direction, still winds
These tragically bad fads spread like vines
Overrun with Reality shows depicting what's REAL
A mass zombie audience digesting their meal
Not In, but outside, this box they soften like veal
Staring at a screen that numbs how they feel
When did the war on intelligence start?
Losers not knowing that losing's not smart...
Cable providers gladly doing their part
News channels selling half-truth ala carte
I will be a rebel and fight for your mind
Hiding remote-controls where they won't find
Trading entertainment for knowledge in kind
Giving books out to the voluntarily blind
It's gonna be a BATTLE!!! WHO'S COMING WITH ME??!!
there's a little dog that's laughing
at a cow jumping the moon
and a cat playing a fiddle
on the wall of a bright room
where a mobile's hanging silent
waiting patiently to turn
like the pages on the bookshelf
that proclaim it's fun to learn
and there's a bible on a small crib
with its cross depicting love
for a child born sadly sleeping
into arms of those above.
hazy morn has broken
as silhouette of solitary boat
silently sails on Thames river
where a steam train just passed
on pallid emerald bridge
leaving a titanium smoke
that glazes the atmosphere
with a gentle kiss of mist
reflections of the sun rising
a blend of peach and tangerine
mirrored on the still water
spell a fleeting moment
of dappled sunlight
whilst the Charing cross bridge
is a relic of ephemeral link
connecting two people in love
9 May 2021
Reference: Charing Cross Bridge is a series of oil paintings by French artist Claude Monet. The paintings depict a misty, impressionist Charing Cross Bridge in London, England. Monet worked on the series from 1899 to 1905, creating a total of 37 paintings depicting the bridge. ( Photo and Info credits to Wikipedia)
All Yours(May 9)Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Brian Strand
1st place
The sky is a Luciferian estuary
rolling and roaring in crimson flames,
a twisted design of detonated debris,
like splitting sighs
from internal implosions,
raining fragments of the past:
matchbox memories
piercing through suffocating silence
as time tortures the mind
with flashbacks of floating fragility…
O invisible moonlight,
pour me a purple potion
to erase the pain behind
perplexed pupils.
I no longer desire to be
cast in the clamorous clusters,
convicted as the captive ~
a ghost of games
playing on the bones of brokenness,
this cave of shame,
this cell of hellfire,
this emotional shrapnel,
reflecting self-loathing nightmares.
Perhaps I crowned myself
the commander,
leading the devil’s disciples
into a war assembled from fear…
And this heart ~ a metallic maelstrom
mourning in the turmoil of melancholy ~
breaks from the inability
to step beyond wrathful walls
to a landscape of holiness,
to seek the footsteps of pilgrimage.
For I am caught in
the whirling whispers of
spectral regrets,
replicating rectangular ruins,
electrifying the empyrean
with greyed grief
and yellowed yearning.
Pondering ~ am I the blasphemer
in the cross-eyed faces of monsters?
Am I the breath
that trembled ~ disrupting the peace?
Am I the empty spaces
filling the crystalline cracks
between haunting hours,
while darkness devours
treacherous tales
climbing from the
archives of devious agony…
But can love gift this skeletal sorrow
a twilight-kissed cloak of hope?
Will heaven be a witness
to these bleeding carvings
within the tall pillars
of my splintered spirit,
while the dying lamp of life
slowly fades and waves farewell
in faint colors ~ depicting misery
like demons decaying,
shaping a sadistic sanctuary
of malignant madness~
a familiar insanity inked
as a heinous home…
Poetry is my insanity
Poetry is my insanity,
sparks collected on flat mirrored walls,
frantic phrases floating
in a spectrum’s pulsating palette,
picturing Dali-esque icicle melted webs
and chromatic landscapes
blurring in the distance
Dancing to the demented sounds
of brain cells singing, Zappa inspired
A cappella rhythmic compositions,
ringing monotone echoes
in between Jupiter and the ghosts
counting off beat pendulum swings
on fingers and toes
Words with eyes, they see, they stare
they blink, they close,
wandering attic crawl spaces
casting neon shadows,
illuminating ideas
passed on to the next pair
lashing out as another retreats
Pulling on my heart,
squeezing every last thought of love,
oozing in blacklight ink, day-glo sunrises
of roach clip offerings on psychedelic posters,
depicting ceramic moons
fluttering midst crayon heavens
eating stardust candy…
Poetry is my insanity
and it is driving me crazy…
in the best possible way
Petrichor petals
float with departing zephyrs,
misplacing misunderstood messages,
whose true meanings are misinterpreted.
Mislaid memories
reflect on picture perfect puddles,
mentally memorising mistakes,
leaving behind a legacy of regret.
Painful passages
monopolise melancholic mind,
bittersweet swansong symphonies,
seduce soulful spirit into a sabbatical.
Pessimistic penitence
engraves on blank expression,
depicting disease, drifting to death,
nauseating numbness perpetually laments.
Silent One
Simple Musings
26 January 2018
A little low-voltage humor in monoku form depicting a fictional day at the Watt home...
The electrical engineer's wife greets him: "WIRE you INSULATE?"
Husband: WATTS it to you? Don't go blowing your CIRCUITS at least I'm OHM!
Wife: "Don't you make LIGHT of this if this were our daughter, you'd be GROUNDED!"
Husband: "Let's leave her out of this she can CONDUCTOR own business"
Wife: "Don't revAMP your story you know it reVOLTS me when you do that"
Husband: "Honey, I'm sorry it HERTZ just trying to keep you CURRENT"
Wife: "Well, I apologize for my RESISTANCE I felt POWERless"
Husband: "I didn't mean to give you STATIC but I'm feeling the SPARK now
Let's go enjoy an ELO concert it will be a good OUTLET"
Wife: "JOULE be SHOCKed to hear this... that would really reCHARGE my BATTERIES
You sure know how to flip my SWITCH we should do this with more FREQUENCY"
Husband, now whispering to the viewer "I just can't RESISTOR charm"
*** Note: ELO = Electric Light Orchestra (70's rock band) ***
Gustav Klimt adored for his murals and paintings
Turned life in poverty into art of awesome glory
Pioneering erotic paintings depicting female body
Moving boldly to shape pages of his artistic story.
Honored for murals painted in famous public places
Klimt became renowned at relatively young age,
Soon changing course of his creative endeavors
Crossing boundaries of norm to launch a new phase.
Paintings like Philosophy, Medicine, Jurisprudence
Quickly became symbolic of his early innovation,
Yet, he was shunned due to misplaced objections,
His trio was later destroyed by ignorant generation.
Moving boldly to declare freedom of expression
Painting Nuda Veritas to foretell his intentions
Achieving critical acclaim using gold in his portraits,
The Kiss raised his profile to yet higher dimension.
Exotic naked women became hallmark of his art,
Depicting Girlfriends in colors of nude confluence,
Drawing Adele Bloch-Bauer I as an elegant woman
Wrapped in a golden gown of rich Asian influence.
So many paintings became renowned masterpieces
As Death and Life won first prize in world exhibition
And Adele Bloch-Bauer sold for huge remuneration
Rejoicing art lovers who seek to own his creations.
The Apple Tree I, Birch Forest, Litzlberg am Attersee,
Adorned with nature, joining ranks of so many more,
Upon Klimt's death became tremendously valuable
As admirers of his art continue to cherish and adore.
November 28, 2017
Klimt
Sponsor: Anthony Slausen
This coin depicting a head of man with laurel
is a rare treasure from the American History,
as an auctioneer I could sell it for a large
sum of money: its estimated price is over
two-thousand-dollars, it shows it was minted
in eighteen-ninety-four, come forward and bid!
I found it among pennies I saved for rainy days,
there must be at least four thousand of them;
my collection includes contemporary silver dollars,
many generations must pass to accumulate value...
any other collector would action them any day!
I jealously hold onto them to own a piece of History:
how they glitter in glass cases on my walls!
I may donate them to the American History
Museum in Manhattan and see them on display!
Many auctioneers would love to get hold of my silver coin,
their mind is set solely on greed, not thinking of its history
which can unravel fascinating details about of its minting process;
the unknown artisan was very skilled in itching date and image
on both sides to testify the greatness and wealth of this nation,
but Americans don't realize that they are very wealthy indeed!
I came as an unaffected statue
Halloween depiction depicting everything
vaguely-leaving margins for misinterpretations
like hieroglyphics deciphered by illiterates
scawling crayon scratch book reports
Walk in these shoes
Feel the pavement scrape through openings worn through souls
and feel the contours of the Earth ravaging
~merciless~
Take the reigns of this chariot
rambling around on undiscernable tracks often
backwards-hobbling humbly
numbly picking up pieces from a patchwork jigsaw
picture possesing voids in the most beautiful places
Climb this tree and know the shaky footfall limbs
sprawl like weeping willow tendrils on my fathers branch
bare and abandoned like locusts came, fed, and fled
watch the forest flourish and realize
this tree is flawed yet resilient
rooted in the strength of adversity
Stethoscope this heart and enjoy the offbeat beat
thumping in uneven peak and valley arrythmia
loving deeply and loved shallow, coldly
berating every executioner who killed
my adoration quotient with dull unfeeling axes
Leaving tides turned, churning me to hurt
Vengefully....Senselessly
Leaving no paths passing me passively
~~passion is my blessing and curse
Beneath the earth in the vale of the kings
For countless years undiscovered, unseen
In an old leather bag bound with brass rings
A necklet so rare, ‘twas fit for a queen
This beautiful piece with deep lustrous shine
In beaten red gold and fine silver strands
A stunning linked chain of complex design
Depicting the skill of artisan’s hands
From where had it come, to whom would belong?
A Queen, or princess of elegant grace?
Whose story was writ in the poet’s song
Sung by the slave girls in this ancient place
A priceless treasure found under the sands
A link to the past in fine silver strands