Best Giorgio Poems
I see the wrinkles in your suntanned brow,
You carried burdens then; you see them now.
You’ve heard the cries your people who in pain,
Have shed their tears two hundred years like rain.
Your sad brown eyes, reflecting now the sky
I see the wings of eagles flying by
Beside you stands an Appaloosa mare
Her spirit one with you now over there.
You hear the drums, they bid you to come near,
Your spirit drawn the beats they ring so clear.
Song like prayers are chanted through the night,
Calling you come, and help them end their plight.
You’ve heard sad cries and now stand at their side,
You join the prayers with both arms open wide,
United spirits sing until the dawn,
When in the fire’s flames a golden fawn.
Remembering a smile crosses your face,
When tribes were one with Mother Nature’s grace.
The lakes and streams flowing with waters clear,
Flow sadly now, the planet lives in fear.
The weightless feathers that adorn your head
Your tribes grey future weighed you down instead.
Now breathing deep you smell the winds of change
While here on earth your people rearrange.
Written by Brenda Meier-Hans
10.21.2014
Giorgio A.V. Contest
Iambic Pentameter
1st place
Silhouetted in the early morn
Five black crows await the breaking dawn
Sitting still and silent in a row
Their shadows cast a forbidding glow
Dusk turns to dawn as daylight breaks
Dark skies fade as the world awakes
The moonlight pales in the morning light
Soon to rise again and welcome night
Jan Allison
24th March 2015
form used - Ekphrasis
Black and White film Photography – A V Giorgio
~awarded 3rd place~
Once driving home, I did defy
A deluge from the darkened sky.
The bluster lent a tinge of fright.
But God is good, and all is right.
When soon my house came into view,
Southward was cerulean blue.
And to the west an orb shone bright.
Oh, God is good, and all is right.
Voluminous the sun did rest
Upon a mountain gleaming lest
I look away; miss more delight!
But God is good, and all is right.
For where the azure sky met gray,
A rainbow over my house lay.
With peaks to east it did unite.
Oh, God is good, and all is right.
This finite sight I need to store
Inside my mind; when troubles pour,
I'll think on it. And so I write
My God is good, and all is right
For Giorgio Veneto's Beloved Poem Contest
By Andrea Dietrich in Rhyme form. I suppose
you could say Couplets but they are couplets
inside quatrain type stanzas, so I am just calling
it rhyme.
*This is a beloved poem of mine for the simple reason that it
was one of those rare poems truly inspired by reality. A lot
of my poems are based on pictures or challenges or things
I see in movies or simply from my playing with words. This actually
happened to me. I had just begun writing poetry in my life, and these
words were going through my head as I beheld the beautiful
rainbow that signaled the end of the frightening storm! When
I reached my home, I immediately began jotting down the words!
As legend has it, there lived Bai Balkhash, a rich man
In the North regions of the then Soviet Kazakhstan
Had a beautiful daughter Ili who was without her Smiley
So Balkhash held a feast with a contest to win Ili.
Ili, loved a shepherd called Karatal and easily managed
For Karatal to win the contest of the grooms staged
But Karatal followed the ancient tradition of love stories
Wherein the fathers were supposed to oppose the realities.
Now the lovers had no option but to run away and marry
And the angry father had no options to go contrary
So he turned them into rivers and himself a lake between.
Made himself a laughing stock taking water from rivers twin.
Today’s reality is Kazakhstan and China using Ili’s water
Poetic justice done, the lake drying, two rivers dying forever.
********
Burlesque Form
======================================
Dr. Ram Mehta
7th place win in:
Contest: Beloved Poem by Giorgio Veneto -
I smile and feel the wind massage my face
Then close my eyes to smell the fresh sea air
The seagull’s wings catch wind then float with grace
A day on Sylt can wash away all care.
I love to see the changing of your tide
Then feel your mud squeeze gently through each toe
You steal my breath your rippled surface wide
Now baring gifts of sea shells as you go.
When you return your rushing waters swirl
And take back all your precious jewels too
I watch in wonder as your wavings curl
And I’m in awe just at the sight of you
Now lying on your sand I watch each cloud
They tell me stories changing forms for me
Today the Greek Gods sat there very proud
As if they wanted all the world to see
The sun has bent down low to take a drink
Now thirsty from his journey through the sky
He dips his head in waters turning pink
Then quickly disappearing shuts his eye
Oh, isle of Sylt your sandy beaches fair
Invite me to return and taste your shore
The salty waters where I’ll sit and stare
Oh, isle of Sylt I’m knocking at your door
Written by Brenda Meier-Hans
09.22.2014
Contest: Iambic Verse II
Giorgio A.V.
3rd
She’d dwelt within a palace, and outside
it, geese and brilliant peacocks used to strut
inside a fragrant garden. As a bride,
she’d said her vows beside the roses, but
today no scent of blooms perfumes the air.
The terrace sculptures, rubble now, are strewn
across the floor. She gazes eastward where
the mangos’ branches danced beneath the moon
when zephyrs softly blew. Like poison, now
a vapor comes, beginning to enwreathe
her husband’s realm. There is a smell so foul
her heart wells up with dread; she cannot breathe.
As ashes drift around, she hangs her head
with certainty her one beloved is dead.
Written by Andrea Dietrich Oct. 11, 2014
for the Top Gun Poetry - Structured forms - Iambic verse III of Giorgio A. V.
Form: Iambic Pentameter in an English Sonnet
Dark cumulous clouds contain
the filtered sunlight in a strange
monochromatic sunrise
where birds seen in silhouette
seem to think they can sing color
into this this grey day.
Mountains defined by stark dark shapes
fade into the distance as if swallowed
by fog's mysterious whiteout.
I feel encapsulated, as if inside of
a black and white photograph
that only defers to shades of grey.
© Connie Marcum Wong
March 8, 2015
Back Black and white film photography
Poetry Contest Sponsor Giorgio A. V.
People buy pictures
They have a notion
That they are owners
But actually
The pictures own them.
They will outlive
Or outlast them
They are only
Custodians.
They purchase
Pyramid,
Art will live.
And they...
Pharaohs:
Dead.
+++++++++
Date 2-28-14
Motif : Epic
Dr. Ram Mehta
First Place win
Contest: Impress Me with short poems II by Giorgio
Brocade frame with silver etches
creating a past's mystery
slices of life it refreshes,
against chilled dusk's pure scenery.
Will wonder's eyes engage and see
the beauty of a fallen leaf
whose precious moment shines too swift?
Or, will it, fading, simply crush
this brittle lace from autumn’s gift
beneath the pile of burial rush.
Contest of Giorgio V: Impress Me ll
by nette onclaud
And why? We often ask and wonder- why
does this small Earth revolve in time and space-
a microscopic speck- diminished by
the boundless vastness of the universe,
unending and unknown? Why are we here?
We go from birth to death upon a sphere
we customized to fit our needs; caught up
in galaxies of mini-worlds we made-
of bustling cities, growing industries,
complexities of homes and families,
of governments, religions, schools, and those-
of our own selves. We ask- what lies beyond
the realm of joys and comforts, or the woes
these bring; beyond our cloudy atmospheres
of love and peace, of war, disease, and crime?
And what, we ask, what mammoth plan could this-
this tiny particle of cosmic dust
encrusted with the scale of human strife
be part of? Matter not the what or why-
the unsolved heavens or eternal scheme!
Enough- enough, for now, to deal with life
and death- and all those worlds that lie between-
in this, our tiny universe named Earth-
a strange, complex dimension all its own.
October 6, 2014
~2nd Place~
Contest: Out Of The Box
Sponsor: Kai Michael Neumann
Judged:01/09/2017
~2nd Place~
Contest: Structured Forms - Iambic Verse
Sponsor: Giorgio A. V.
Judged: November 6, 2014
shun the encroachment of the dark
focus intently at the task at hand
blinded to peripheral vision
wriggle free of your silhouette
present beyond the corner
circles encompass
captured by crescents
spinning in their circular hold
neither freedom nor imprisonment will ride
reality is just the ache of the dream
the muddled yell & yawn
every emotion a mere numbing agent
sometimes, I think I peeled away the relief
but the block forms are pattern upon pattern
and I'm a diminishing darkness
at the approach of dusk.
I’m Huck, and my last name is Finn.
On the great Mississippi I’ve been
playing hooky from school
‘cause there ain’t any rule
that can keep Huckleberry caged in.
I bet that you’ve already read
about the fun life that I’ve led,
how I got a bad foe
that they called Injun Joe
and how me and Tom one time played dead!
I ain’t nothin’ special, just Huck.
In my boyhood forever I’m stuck.
Just one kid needs to look
at the words in Twain’s book
and I’ll stay alive - with any luck!
*My character, of course, is Huckleberry Finn, taken from the novel of the same title, written by a very witty humorist, Samuel Clemens, AKA Mark Twain.
Written 4/20/14 by Andrea Dietrich for the "Become a fictitious character taken from a book (or a movie) ! Free Poetry Contest" of Giorgio A.V.
Among the long grass of the land and reed,
there is a lonely place where thoughts are freed,
Saint Martin's summer spreads upon the lake
in warm conditions all domains partake.
The blazing, orange skies, on earth reflect
perfection's lingering details connect
a red, still hanging leaf has caught my gaze
spotlighted in the sun's last golden rays.
This leaf, upon the branch, began to wave,
(it's ending, little life I could not save),
and swept away by Autumn's windy rake,
imprinted ripples on the peaceful lake.
The leaf was carried, as my eyes complied,
then drowned inside the lake's blue waves that shied,
the sweeping northern gust, the leaf discerped,
that neath the surface is forever kept.
Written by Kelly Deschler September 19th, 2014
Revised by Giorgio A. V.
I can see
a beautiful soul
lies within me.
Therefore,
no mirror
can reflect
who I really am.
For Giorgio Veneto's contest - "Laconic Verse"
If you insist
on doggerel verse,
show mercy then
and keep it terse.
Fifth Place, Laconic Verse I, Giorgio V.