Best Fragmentary Poems
When the blinds fall away
unveiling of the cocoon
A light flutter
dust sprinkles
Careful wing beats
a slight movement
An artistic creative force
fleeting, transitory
and fragmentary
Soul prophetic power
even by its insignificant place
in the cosmos
Purple lilac aroma
butterfly transformation
Categories:
fragmentary, beauty, birth, butterfly,
Form:
Free verse
Beneath a night veil bordered with black roses,
such a pallid, yet beauteous face,
nightingales nestled at her feet.
She's adept at knowing when to let
herself in.
She sits, sighs of sorrow,
ebony shadowed dreams.
She is bereavement-
Depression's sister.
Stars weaved in her long raven tresses,
scattering tears,
cruelly tightening cords of thorns-
around my fragmentary,
out of life's rhythm,
barely beating heart song. ~
Categories:
fragmentary, 7th grade, 8th grade,
Form:
Free verse
See Spot Run..
This icon of our education
yes..of youth..but continuing..
The question might be asked:
Was our education ever other
than variations of Spot running..?
Sophistication arrived but
the strong belief of separation:
Spot..and Dick..and Jane
remains.. seemingly implanted
unquestioned and permanently
in what we call our world..
Through the years
some have found discomfort
a hole at the center of
Spot's adventures..
A vague unsettling
blossoming on some days
to sharp fragmentary pain..
In our many searchings
for restoration and fulfillment
might we in some momentary
clarity..see Spot not running
but dissolving into
the light of day...
Categories:
fragmentary, anxiety, conflict, confusion, good
Form:
Blank verse
The flowing fire of day
Melted into the night
High o'er head the moon was out
Showing only half its light.
Dates made before this moment
Kept past their passing
Each a gem concentrically strung
On threads of fragmentary Nows ,
Waiting to meet their weaver.
Categories:
fragmentary, imagery,
Form:
Free verse
I was young when I realized my mom was different,
Different from me at least, for sometimes
She would draw or paint and miracles would happen.
Her penciled or charcoaled strokes on paper projecting life
Into two dimensions, though color, of course, was absent,
Like God, a multi-dimensional entity, manifesting Himself
Into the three-dimensional flesh of Jesus Christ,
God’s Presence too much for mortal man to take in.
Her images drawn from a world of fragmentary illumination,
Pre-dawn scenes where mind supplies the missing detail
That eye cannot quite gather in, so soft, so colorless the light.
Proportions too are faultless: contours never flat,
Roof lines never too long or short, you are with her,
Mountains exactly where God put them,
Though not strictly photographic, as if aware of her gaze,
And truly wanting to look their best for …. the Artist.
And colors too, the amazing blend of watercolors that
Always complimented even nature’s imagination.
A few strokes of her brush and a girl’s face would emerge from
What would be mere daubing on my part, believe me, I tried.
But for mom, the colors always ran, flowed into perfection,
Making it seem sometimes like gravity was up not down.
You wanted her to win, and somehow, she almost always did.
The paint itself would evolve with time to become
Who the girl herself would be, if only she knew how,
Perfection shining through the textures of mere colors,
Even the rose colored light of the rising sun wherein she posed
Erupting from her image as if Venus herself broached the shore,
Floating as it were, erect on shell, on a sea born of man’s tears.
Oh, my mother saw everything with the genius of new eyes.
Only with my words do I dare to paint images that so touch
The emotions that shook me to the core of my being as a child.
Did my mother wreck me, did she draw me into coral reefs
Of her imagination like a siren might a forlorn sailor.
I leave that for you to judge, my reader, my friend, my lover,
Whose mind is the intangible parchment of my self-expression.
Her parting legacy to her son, the gift of my very own new eyes.
Brian Johnston
August 14, 2015
Categories:
fragmentary, life, mom,
Form:
Prose Poetry
Have you ever been puzzled by Bible’s advice
That we “let the dead bury the dead.”
Once it gave me the feeling that God’s veins were ice
It was quite hard to see this as love
But I now think it separates wheat from the chaff
Service owed to the living instead
Shouldn’t focus so much on our own epitaph.
If there’s life after death, then the dead are with God
And through Grace is His Justice proclaimed!
Our attempts at controlling His judgment seem odd,
Where's our faith then in heaven above?
Earthly monuments fragile as memories fade
Even gravesites these days are reclaimed
Without God every soul’s last encounter is spade.
Modern man thinks that Science disproves God a lot
But did God not create Science too?
Possibility Biblical insight is rot
Ours to tell God that He is confused?
We explore God’s creation like “walk in a park,”
Like a child trying on his dad’s shoe,
Almost clueless, our best guesses flash in the dark.
Using Bible to cover our barely clad sin
Lacks humility, honor and trust
Desert exodus, God’s love still taking us in.
After flood subsides mercy diffused
And the greatest of gifts, His son’s death on the cross,
On our own we return to the dust,
Yet men count their mortality only as loss.
And the greatest of mysteries still is man’s soul
Is it true? Is it there, is it not?
But if we do not have one then what is angst’s goal?
Without soul then our death is just sleep!
Every night is a preview of death but for dreams
So it seems that we practice a lot
But if there there’s a chance that God’s Love still redeems.
When I look at the world I see beauty to share
And in evil and good I see choice,
These creations don’t seem to show God’s lack of care
But a freedom that penetrates deep.
For God’s God is the love that He feels deep inside
And as children we too have a voice,
For our God serves His God with an infinite pride.
Brian Johnston
January 5, 2015
Categories:
fragmentary, faith,
Form:
Rhyme
Love, I’ve never known you to be as gorgeous
As you are in lying beside me sweetly,
At this very moment; and nothing other
Pleases me better…
Come and kiss me now, my beloved: tender
Touches take me, ravish me, make me breathless,
Eyes and lips embodying invitation!
Kiss me forever…
Note: I hope the subject matter isn't too racy; it seemed appropriate for a poem using a form Sappho used. I also wished to capture something of the fragmentary nature of much of her surviving work.
Categories:
fragmentary, kiss, love, passion, romantic
Form:
Sapphic stanza
Idyllic reveries
of fragmentary memories
painfully pierce my soul through;
melting away without you.
5/25/2019
Night of Memories 4/5/2019
Poetry Contest: Arbitrium Divisa
Sponsored by: Gregory R Barden
Categories:
fragmentary, bereavement, dream, love,
Form:
Rhyme
Inside The Mysterious Enigmatic Fragmentary...
Mortal Mind Of Matthew Scott Harris
ENTER AT YOUR OWN RISK!
Seedy gobbledygook ergot
visibly argot bubbled, burbled, bustled...forth
yea...give garbled, jangled, warbled shoutout
if ye doth render
mug gadabout totally confounding,
this unfettered voluminous confection
ruff lee in toto as sample
doggone freelance gargon
sublime red rover - misaligned with
twenty first century time
emerging, fishtailing, kvetching,
slithering, whipsawing
during springtime
thaw - oozing out primordial slime,
schlepping aboard bissel mishuga train
while kibitizing with longfellow
ghost hosts Bartleby,
thee Herman Hermits,
and Stray Cats caterwauling
scrivener circumlocution showtime
evidences troubadour prima facie
tremendous struggle rustling rational rapport,
ruminating, citing his dismal schooltime
track record muddled, and hence
questing to cobble a rhyme
distilling, harvesting, and
leaching (out pulpy, knotty,
Max Headroom Ancien regime
filmy... gray matter) in realtime,
while strains of Ragtime echo
from late nineteenth century
tin pan alley, nsync, linkedin
cubist, dadaist, existentialist...
mine poetic melange jerry rigs
flashes random discordant phrases
kickstarting hotmail...faintly
analogous to processing quicklime
mucking with abstract alphabetic
mire ranks as playtime
forging whimsical tactical trippy thoughts,
nursing eternal idealistic Earthly peacetime,
worrying away looming mortality,
noshing post death as pastime,
welcomes input and alien abduction – ME,
mine "FAKE" existence, sans charade,
facade, masquerade onetime pantomime,
no second act allowed, nor
revising questionable tour de force
I claim NO pièce de résistance, nor overtime,
asper waning game
of thrown away Life
approaches nighttime haven
soon...forever rest in peace
surrendering requisite burnt offerings,
sans (cremated ashes) - meantime
fete grateful dead
scythe lent hoodlums on warpath
to incite bedlam
postprandial mealtime prayer final -
deathly hallowed gleeful grimace
witnessing successful electroshock therapy
of yours truly emotionally frozen
decades long comatose state
thankfully oblivious, when impending
curtain call signals finis!
Categories:
fragmentary, addiction, age, appreciation, art,
Form:
Narrative
AN INDIAN SHIVER
I really don’t know why she took it back
The lady lent me that which I now lack
Some men can abide losing such a prize
And to me loss, of course, is never a surprise
The lady loaned me life’s sweetest gift
Before we fell out of sorts due to a rift
It was a chasm I could not climb out of
And a cloud of cruelty I could not rise above
The woman imparted a large part of her heart
Until she rescinded a most pertinent part
She shared and bared her beauty but only for a little while
A fragmentary moment that was the function of her smile
The lady segmented my spirit seriously with her goodbye
She sliced my body with a disproportionate portion of a lie
What it amounted to was counted in the number of my tears
And now what she once lent me is tragically in arrears
I was a beggar who was never choosy in any way
And when I accepted her contribution it was a most wondrous day
She donated and denoted something that filled a huge empty hole
And now I have but a sorrowful souvenir to remind me of her soul
© 2013…..~free cee!~ Copyright PHREEPOETREE
Categories:
fragmentary, angst, me, me,
Form:
Quatrain
Do you now hear the wind chimes
Ride the windy melody?
A sparkling tune set in time
In moments fragmentary.
The morning sun sweeps warmly
A sparkle of vivid tints;
Awakening sights to see
The breezy colours light mints.
Another day flings my way,
A chance to dance and to sing;
Such fleeting hours by the bay,
Such poignant sense offerings.
Patterns thrill my mystic ode,
I write of fond zesty flings;
Words chime and rhyme in sure code,
Symbols bid goodbye to spring.
Hot and humid June now hurls
The fragrant wit of summer;
No jest can stop the hot swirls
As sweaty brows remember.
The heat of day soon descends
As tired earth retires to rest;
Till the morrow sun ascends
To replay that fiery zest.
Do you hear the wind chimes groan
To usher the night's nocturne?
Let's put to bed our tired moans
Ere a new dawn brings sun burn.
My fare is simple to see:
Work and eat and drink and write;
Feel and think and craft poetry,
My mystic ode I recite.
Leon Enriquez
02 May 2015
Singapore
Categories:
fragmentary, blessing,
Form:
Ode
Had those eyes never locked…
A fragmentary man I…
A love of my life lost…
Soul Mate…
Inimitable…
Without that stanch passion…
Apathetic existence…
Lives drifting disjointedly away
Corridors leading into the present
Our waters perpetually abound
Farther reaches than the shoreline
Love ardently remitted is my peace
Carrying to me sweet scented melodies
Of shadowed moments icily fading
Had I never melted of your gaze
So secluded within only our time
An incomplete soul drifting forlorn
Accursed on the winds impulses
A love of my life lost…
Soul Mate…
Irreplaceable…
Never forgotten…
Categories:
fragmentary, devotion, hope, introspection, life,
Form:
Free verse
WAIT, ALLOW ME TO GET THE DOOR WHORE
Yes, that couch is the only thing of yours in this room alone
And I’ll always remember the aroma of your favorite cologne
You may as well take the cat supplies if you get another cat
Oh, and don’t forget that cute frilly little purple hat
For you must take your leave as you grow bored of me
And I grew weary of the things you ignored of me
But I recall the fragmentary time on earth we shared together when you adored me
I put your favorite stuffed pony in your pocket book
And perhaps you want to take one last look
See the bed upon which we made love seem like love plus a garden that grows cotton candy
And the candlesticks given to us from Kenny and Mandy
And don’t forget to tip the newspaper boy
As you run away voicelessly and steal my joy
There were so many little quirky things I loved about you
As you’d stare deeply into my eyes of cerulean blue
So take what you want and almost all you can see
But remember Sugar, there may be something in the universe that can’t keep you from loving
me?
© 2010.….Poefree
Categories:
fragmentary, lost lovelove, may, universe,
Form:
Monorhyme
Of all the fragmentary thoughts
that ride along with us-- a
moment's tingle to the spine,
then fly away as any brighter one
will scatter them like bowling pins,
there is a carefully concocted vision
that I have when I can see
that I am not alone, that someone
also reaches forth his fingers
just to touch, to murmur "yes."
For there are vapors rising from the earth,
reminding me that all will dream,
entangled with unspoken quests
until I understand that there persist
deep-seated cravings from within
that must be satisfied in Everyman.
The good still breathes;
a hidden justice lurks;
a heart proclaiming right still
thunders at our viscera--our
total self to stand complete.
This is the hidden sacrament
I need to share with you.
I need to know there is an alter self,
or someone just a spirit step away,
who travels this same road
with equal consciousness and light,
lumen for the way ahead, and in a sense
confirm in me, the certainty
that spirit touch I thought about,
is real.
~
Categories:
fragmentary, allusion,
Form:
Free verse
I always felt safe while
tangled in sheets till dawn
as I'd looked at your smile,
draperies tightly drawn.
Idyllic reveries
of fragmentary memories
painfully pierce my soul through;
melting away without you.
4/5/2019
Poetry Contest :Writing Challenge 1- April, 2019 - Its All About 8 -
Sponsored by: Dear Heart
abab ccdd
6. Night of Memories
Categories:
fragmentary, emotions, love,
Form:
Rhyme