Best Illustrative Poems
Crowds and noise and people enthralled me
When I had deciduous teeth.
And a simple thought of loneliness
Engendered collywobbles in me.
How amicable people look when viewed with jejune eyes!
Blanketing all kinds under pristine
and untarnished label
Without contemplations and with profound celebrations,
Labelling the sweeter tongues 'good'
And tactless simpletons 'deride'.
Perhaps it was the age of innocence!
It afflicted my eyes with myopia
Hindering my childish wisdom for masques
As one after another, the deciduous white pearls fell
They did shake my bygone edifice of sagacity
With each new rise, my style of mastication changed
Sometimes to the left
Sometimes to the right
My food could not be chewed with stability
Sometimes the hollowness after the fallen tooth engendered agony
And in the artless custom of childhood, I believed all......
Then with time, the new convictions came
Enamels with more glint and rock-like firmness
With age, it pondered and with 'relations' it was illustrative
'That people are not always they appear!!'
'Their words are not always what they sounded!!'
But by that age, I was one of them
Deceptive in deed and sardonic in words
Perhaps it was the stage of Adulthood!!
I am the wind
the textured curl of clouds
those specks of glitter
silver and gold are my
illustrative gleams
the foiling wings
that flutter and flap
feathers ripe with color
complementing all rosy hills
a rolling kiss a splash of
blush a dash of spicy dish
the pepper and the salt
of a morning's stirring serving
see me in the meadows
there where wildflowers overflowing
bees and butterflies how they gaily
bob take lick like little children
at the serving tops of apples candied
making funny faces where those more
tart chasing rainbow tails the
fond remnants of showers
I made this day for you
now do me honor
save some acres from your cities
and roads
one or two at the least
as I keep sacred
your plot through the heavens
Quaint country canvas,
Layered...pastel horizons;
Watercolor skies.
A bridge in maze through shift it gaze
Torn
From pillars being built in monuments to the sun;
A mouth to live yet viable led scorn,
In truth will learn as chivalry turn to worst;
Born under a bad sign in rudimentary fragmented parts...
Sheer brilliance led to essential eloquence,
Supernatural...
Torn,
I see a gate negate to climb
In distant fervor swept from behind
One in twain yet marked on its blotted page fully intact;
The deception lies in you amidst a shade of thorns,
Branded by ivy delusional thought provoking pitch,
A mind blinded lying headlong in a ditch...
In sunlight we gasp for air through pillars in illustrative thought
Torn between the world I know
Then to escape into the one I wish to go
A soul harvest to its plain;
The ghastly pitch lest I refrain again,
The light on the charitable offering still shines;
A tongue in cheek sublime rhyme,
Fought back its silence to numb its pain escape
A slide to cope in a favorable episode explode;
With no shelter to cry the outset of the fall
In silence its refusal of the slight of hand
To once again greet the average no it all
Fought back its silence to numb its pain once again
To shine in episodes of discipline within
Higher elements of discomfort & scorn
Torn
A bridge of light once again to push away its pain within
A slope to cope a guard to wear;
Briars and silence amidst harlots with pain
The toll of lost lovers let lose in my brain
Torn
In episodes of anger
In the creative reply to things;
In destination of negate vile authority
Blinded by things that don't even please
Torn
~
Socialized wandering wizards in a heavy garb of compromise
Devastation in mass anhiliation the saga of paradise lost
Torn
With heads of state in vile treatment of hate
No sense to delegate or leave it up to fate!
~
Torn
What is the big deal difference
between universal wholeness
and interdependent HereNow fragmentation?
How are they combined
to make one Left/Right
Ego/EcoHabitat
bilateral identified whole?
In an organic system,
a mindbody, for illustrative purposes,
perhaps a mature branched-out tree trunk
supported by a subterranean root feeding network,
whether ecosystemic outside
or egosystemic inside,
separating WinWin cooperative organs
leads to expectations of natural/spiritual dividing death,
abandoning each neglected interdependent part
to stand and fall nakedly Lose/Lose alone,
Positive mutual trusted default Virility,
Resilience hijacked by LeftBrain dominant
Either Win Or Lose bipolar
fundamentally autonomous claustrophobic terror,
morbidity.
Development of cooperating
competing labels
for language interdependent with co-relational experience
studies healthy WinWin organic communal communicating ways
Noting LeftBrain developed deductive dominating capacity
to tear away interdependent transubstantiating pieces
of universal creolizing ionizing wholes
While also inductively RightBrain remembering
how we originally worked and played
cooperatively
holistically combined together.
I want to dance time backward
to sing our larger CreationStory multiculturing view.
Wholeness is a polypathic health goal
Interdependence is a polyphonic wealth outcome--
resilience with resonance
An EarthTribe ubiquitously democratic Place
we can sacredly return to
with Left deductive YangEgo
and Right inductive YinEcoRelational
reawakening Prime ZeroZone win/win
within multiculturing health/wealth polypathic us.
WinWin personal and political history
slowly unfolds, refolds, prefolds, folds
before our revolutioning newborn eyes
as we expand our DNA family organic vision
to see matriarchal cooperative universal ZeroZones
Global composed of interdependent health care Local
Wealth previews, reviews, unviews,
double-binding Ego/Eco Creation Stories.
Perhaps the primal difference
between LeftBrain Universalists
and RightBrain Unitarianists
is this difference
Between which one hand is clapping
Which one foot is dancing
Which one integral voice is cooperatively co-passioned
co-arising
SecularHere with Sacred MultiCultural-MultiGenerational Now.
I want to write an epic novel, my words to be conserved
my paper is plenty and my pen is ready, I will write a book of great worth.
Its been an hour and nothing yet, but the day is still quite young... I won't give up, I know I'm great, my creative mind will birth
that great classic novel, with its illustrative cover, and a story to rock the world.
Yes laugh all you want and chuckle along, my day of fame will come!
For the day I was born was a glorious day as the world with my presence I graced.
I do find it strange that I do not have friends, all my invites are declined... odd, try as I may when invited to "play" the response is always "another day"..
Imagination of course, for who could resist spending time with magnificent me?
my dynamic presence rising as en edifice, unique is what you see.
What a good thing I'm modest, not inclined to boast (though I know you would love to be me!)
Well darkness is falling and yawn I am falling asleep at my desk with my pen.
Its quite tough writing novels, I shall try again later, but for now I really must rest.
baby's hair with a womans eyes
can see right past you as I tantalize
the mere notion of a whisper long to filter
shadows block the vortex of her smile
how you have fought so very hard & fierce
my one truest love is gone from here
a challenge to be free is a question of time
my one solution is using my mind
living on the edge and it's going to me head
sitting up at night all alone in bed
following the rainbow to the sky
I see a crystalized vision of you pass me by
one hand to hold a heart will mend
when will we ever live to understand
faces, places & traces
the glue that held inside my mind
my heart permeates a reason for being
perhaps its in the changing of the season
without any viable reason
you seek solace in your dream
a barren hill with a running stream
the conclaves of ivy briars connect along the edges
with lucid dreams of hay coming apart on its display
mark the one willing to explore
an explosion from deeper inside
with illustrative figures with innate pictures ready to hold
many will suffer in silence amidst the violence
there is a part of me that I don't want anyone to see
from deep within is but a mystery
the vivid climax in the dream
the utopian ruler with exploits of murder
search ever deeper
soon you will discover
the vibrations upon a cosmic chatter of what we are after
make me a fire blown up in its fullest of desire
in each of us we soon will discover
a deeper portion of thought brought on by a lover
shelter lies dormant amidst its beckoning plough
rich personifications of illustrative taste makes us meditate
lines being drawn in the sand when will we ever live to understand
the fields are warm for harvest as a cermonial pardon
in vexation we will humbly appeal towards a delegation
others have blackened eyes filled up with stench
there portion of being falls head long in a ditch
some may equate logic for fear yet this time i shed no tear
holding my head up high listening to life's sweet lulabye
BY MINE DAYS CONVEYED
as i struggle over the contours of continuation
i have not lost the capacity for compassion
i sail through stomrs with a temperment fair
acknowledging the coming and going of fashion
garbs may forever fall in and out of fashion
yet it is the character of the man who dons them
and if that man has a prelude of pride
it matters not what colors may lead to his hem
as i become older yet not necessarily wiser
i realize that wisdom is a gift many overlook
as length of days and years are granted unto me
i realize how many blessings of mine time has forsook
the manner in which my son may one eulogize me
such is the way i pay homage to the men who've been my guide
when cloudiness conveys contempt for the sky
it is within those clandestine clouds wherein i choose to hide
wisdom might surely have evaded my days
and strength may have, like fashion, at times faded away
it is with a modicum of strength and wisdom that i pray
may the sun paint my soul and death for a while hold its stay
(c) 2011......PHREEPOETREE ~free cee!~
The logical possibility to jump over the moon,
make sense when considered its cheese eaten with a spoon.
The same cheese became famous by Mozart composing Cinderella,
melted in on bread called Mozzarella.
The milks fat has its meaning by matter of form,
as one can pull it gently in its use to be torn.
The essence of man by Plato is conceptual confusion,
Aristotle’s answer was the rational animal conclusion.
The death is one of two things and metaphysical,
hypothetic nature in grammarless forms of being radical.
Abstract concepts to the point of phrase,
indefinable logic to stay confused in philosophical pace.
Nothing divided by nothing to multiply the zero,
trading and selling golden mirrors portraying the hero.
The hypnotic ability of linear verbal communication,
overwritten melodrama and its cultured sensation.
Caffeine clicking clocks in commercial wars,
to safe the astounding audience aspiration from taws.
Intensified intuitive balloons matching the color of the eye,
illustrative animated slices with the cherry on top pie.
Vulnerable velocity by vanity loosing lips largely,
absurdity with distinction established ambiguity fiercely.
Falsity and truth before sense and nonsense,
thinking one knows what is not known in essence.
Philosophical poetry may be with or without rhyme,
but it is never without reasons of confession in time.
The frantic soul along loose lines the roll of the dice
Along with its frustrated alibi taunting for control
An illustrative look at the passing eagle flying in the air free
There is a survivor in is all some standing tall
Amidst the breeze flowing by a delicate rose
In times of quality we are taken back at bit.
Like a bridge over troubled water
A thought or a glance at yesterday's plans
A barrier of mere thought by which to seek & understand
Through creative loss of love in its unique timeless plight
For to curse the day yet forget the night
Like a survivor in a slighted debate;
We tred upon the hardship amidst the caged fury pain,
While the entire world outside is insane...
Looking for love in all the wrong places scattered traces
Bed room eyes making second glances no surprise;
The world today is a will for power amidst no sorrow
For the notion of resistance is a passing fade
In rhetoric circumstances through weekly satire
Among the strongest we have become weak
In conclusion, the survivor finds that they are turning over a brand new leaf
As if caged fury within tolerant pain grasping for straws
Then comes the confrontation from within
A second guessing & then
Lastly, we confront the idol mockery with viscious fangs that bite thee
Chosen formed asps out in rhetoric torn desolation
Perhaps I'm in need of a break in a long awaited vacation?
The ever clever, talented Beatrix Potter was interested in everything
She self-published The Tale of Peter Rabbit; it was met with a zing.
Her scientific interest led us to understand germination of fungus spores
Her journals written in code, deciphered by an engineer, Mr. Dores.
Beatrix was the first person to put clothes on animals in her books.
Until this time, they were much more natural in their illustrative looks.
One of her biggest fans was a young lad named Ronald Dahl.
She encouraged him to write. His books are enormous, world-tall.
Beatrix had Peter Rabbit and Squirrel Nutkin, both of them tales.
Ronald Dahl penned Charlie and the Chocolate Factory near Wales.
They are both vibrant reminders that writers can become immortal.
As I read some of their books like Matilda, I drool and I chortle.
wrestles hearts beating alone tonight
love has gained yet sometimes love has lost humanities heaviest of cost
you stood outside in your nice skirt in the rain
waiting for your love to come
then in an instant he was there
now he holds her
for when he looks deep into her eyes he could see his future
filled with bright beauty of the hope for tomorrow
amidst all the sadness & sorrow
shelter lies dormant amidst its beckoning plow
sadness fill her eyes once again for he departs
leaving her a stranger in a strange land
her whole soul permeates for a reason to believe in
out of the corner of her eye
she spots a reflection of a woman torn in circumstance
not willing to take part in the dance
yet she still longs for tender romance
a break in her routine away
from all the hurt and mockery
now living in a land of make believe
light & love
two hearts return together again this time best of friends
shattered glass on the parchment floor
lest I implore another opened door by way to willingly explore
for love is the essence of her existence shun the resistance
light of illumination
sullen brevity
captures the mere vortex of her eye
hands, eyes & feet
a place to meet and greet
smiles
inside she still hides her soul permeates to a lavish decorum
to relish in the way of better days
to capture sweet reflections of her past
having so much fun with a hope that it would last
one hand to hold a heart will mend
a visitation filled with gratitude in her illustrative thoughts
she dances in a ring of fire yet throws off its challenge with a shrug
molten hot lava love
His Living Poem
I am a simple man,
loquacious words I have not.
The few illustrative words I possess
I recently learned or already forgot.
Authored by those more educated,
are the poems I read before.
Frost, Yeats, Whitman, Longfellow,
Poe, Dickenson, Vance Cooke, and more.
Even you, my sophisticated friends,
possess the gifts I dearly desire.
Within you lies countless treasures,
that sparkle when read by a lamp or a searing fire.
What gift in me I can draw on you for a smile or tear?
What, in my limited capacity, can I impart to you?
And what have I acquired, would you want to bear?
There is none, from what I can find, or view.
That you've read this far, none have come before.
Surely countless have already left,
as a dull wit I be, and to others just a bore.
The only observation I can find,
that would allow me to be of a facility,
is His living poem... a simple rhyme...
is what God hath made in me.
And through His faith,
He trusts in me... His very simple rhyme,
to read the poems penned by you,
a gift from Him to you,
expressions so sublime.
by Martin Braun
July 30,2023
Nope! I haint gonna crack'n on the heat... just yet
until the cowed chickens come home to roost!
Sunlight streaming thru window
body electric of mine doth whet
begets hardiness to acclimate
against PECO shut off threat
ideal opportunity to spouse
analogous to her being my emotional pet
snuggling while standing in kitchenette
but accidental twerking
can guarantee yours truly
(me) being recipient of epithet.
I bundle up to stay warm
inside my cold man cave
particularly as average outside temperature
for November twentieth
two thousand and twenty three
hovers between high and low
fifty degrees fahrenheit
nearly brisk enough to see my breath.
I and/or the imaginary paramour
take our separate showers
during warmest hours of the day
less optimal to engage
in neighborly horseplay,
but more ideal for mistress (ha)
to pad around the unit donning her lingerie,
which nonverbally signals
(and greenlights)
more than voluminous words,
hence, I seal lips of mine
despite sudden aroused frisky urge
to burble exhibiting
debauched casanova behavior
accompanied courtesy illustrative
of suave debonair popinjay
rerouting spontaneous seduction today
indicative of throbbing
bulbous anatomical appurtenance,
which protrusion nullifies necessity of x-ray
to identify sudden
source of vasocongestion.
During daylight hours fresh air
arbitrarily, humorously, and noiselessly
streams and wafts
thru screened windows
ushering invisible scents
and audible sounds
of the webbed wide world here,
in Schwenksville, Pennsylvania
our neck of the woods
since seventeenth year
after second century Anno Domini.
Civilizations since time immemorial
revered fiery celestial ball
establishing their respective mythology
which scheme attempted to explain
divine thermonuclear processes
sustaining the nearest star,
which Sol Invictus did enthrall
housing an astronomical object
comprising a luminous spheroid of plasma
held together by self-gravity
within the heavenly vault
divine creator didst install
which supposed movement
in the sheltering sky
signified daytime and nightfall
linkedin with planet earth
a veritable, observable, honorable,
and admirable terrestrial tetherball.
IDEAS
an
applied sense
of the literate
conceptions
undevalued
gratituous
but
honourable
in
curious phenomena
change places
a mark
of verse
fluctuating rhythm.
gyrating
emotions
so irregular
of
no consequence
incoherently
emerge
so freelyASSUMPTIONS
subtle &
many
illustrative
observations
in
layered
settings
on many
levels
amplified
foibles
in
an absurdity
of
unlikely flights
of
imaginative
action
so plausible
&
authorial
in
tone
from
ingenious
angles
recognised
or imagined
setting
to
&
create
restoration
to
illustrate