Best Impression Poems
The crested waves were like frills, rolling toward me
I want to be that light, carefree, worry free
Led by the tides that pull me
Floating effortlessly to the shore
Where you are waiting for me
Where I know, everything will be ok, when I am there
I dream of a secluded island with white sand
Where there is nothing but love and peace
Such thoughts are needed in this world...
That has become so hectic, so full of concerns
Clouded by difficulties, weighed upon by challenges
Oh, let me be the crested wave
Letting go of all my troubles before I land...
So the impression that I leave,
Is newly, fresh, upon the sand
Heidi Sands
11/13/22
It isn’t the big celebrations,
Enormous dinners or huge gifts.
Parties never rouse foundations,
Jamborees or festivals.
It isn’t the life-sized creations,
Who impress kings, rulers or monarchs.
It’s the little things, a gentle expression,
When hearts meet in the deserts,
When dreamers discover their profession,
When simple reaches into the heart,
Pulls out a feeling, an impression,
The beautiful that inspires the light.
It isn’t in the impressive,
When a life gets made –
It’s in the thoughts, so obsessive…
Which bring feelings we want to save!
Lay your hand upon my chest
Pressing hard with all your might
Then place your head there to rest
Dream some dreams with me tonight
We'll soar into the enchanted sky
Gaze intimately at the moon
glowing effulgent in your eye
as my heart begins to swoon
When you're gone I'll always feel
your impression on my heart
Knowing that our love is real
and our souls will never part
Monet's Impression, Sunrise
First impressions leave memories
that can linger for a very long time
and give a sense of peace and understanding
that rewards the solitude of the mind
with satisfaction in contemplative reflection.
This may be deceiving and can mislead one to believe
that which is right may, in fact, be wrong.
Graciously accept the artist’s shared perception
that there is no ambiguity, only a warning
of the impending storm threatening prevalent reasoning.
The ascending sun, with its reflection on the water,
highlights a sense of direction as the rowers row
across the harbour at the break of morn.
Past cranes and derricks and ships at anchor
beneath a smoke-blurred fiery sky, accented
by pastel shades of blue to create the sombre mood
that expresses Monet’s "Impression, Sunrise" painting
and shares with the onlookers his representation
of nature from an Impressionist’s point of view
in the Industrial Age, heralding in the revolution.
That begs the question, “Where are they going,
and why blood orange?” (Oh, but I’ve seen that colour before.)
Day-to-day inquiries are asked of one another and strangers.
Monet incorporates an art form using oils on canvas,
forcing the audience to observe with curiosity,
thus presenting a sliver of time of life’s tranquillity at sea.
This provocation of thought chinks the consciousness
of seasoned connoisseurs who see change as frightening
and challenges their manipulation of artistic output
(to act like mechanical agents thwarting creativity).
“Will they reach their destination? Will it be as they hoped for?”
Hurry! Though calm, the waters will soon froth in labour.
***
Note:
“Monet’s Impression, Sunrise” is an ekphrastic poem referencing the painting “Impression, Sunrise” (1872) by Claude Monet (1840–1926).
Citron yellow-
prussian blue
brings day and night
into view.
Two sides of a coin
- a shadowless wheat field
- a brush-stroked sky
Eye-impressions do not lie
WHEATFIELDS with Cypresses /STARRY night- Van Gogh
Bare hands stirring over my body
Little resistance, pushed against wall
Echoing of my scream shivered down
Strong figure felt like a known to me
The stare sensed me of my own blood
Little did I know, Dad about you..
A few yellow leaves, diminutive bless.
The subtle birth of Fall— my eyes impress.
Verdant green—deep visual for my dreams.
The season’s frisk—Jack Frost snips at the seams.
Soon the froth of frisky leaves, everywhere.
The flamboyant tango, showering flair.
And oh…the burning Autumnal passion—
the sizes and shapes, bittersweet fashion.
I forget my bathing suit, bundle up,
vigorously jump into loving cup
of apple cider, pumpkin pie and leaves.
Season’s change, cheeky-warm, with knitted sleeves.
10/6/2021
Man measures all things;
Laying down those credenda
Others live to serve.
The art is fading,
Like the civility it shows.
Hard now to find those
Who understand the shading
One needs to give to common speech,
To convey benedicence
Through common sense,
With all the forms of courtesy teach
A repartee' that clashes not like jagged, tumbling stones;
Reclaiming dignity over our tea and scones.
The air carries winter's bite
To the ear, the nose and fingers
- But the day is full of light,
A golden shine that falls and lingers
Upon the warf and woof of everything.
The apricity all 'round is why the birds yet sing
Upon their icy perches.
A ghostly touch of warmth lies all about
As the heart conducts its silent searches
Through the deeps of cold and doubt.
Oh how fine it might be,
But for a day or two,
To be an airling again;
Clean of conscience
Innocent of what hurts
I may have caused,
For I'd never yet then
Intended any of them.
Age is wisdom, true.
But it's also a tapestry of little guilts,
Amid still smaller expiations.
Please do not hold me within those claws of unworthiness
As if your judgment alone DEFINES me!
Get out of here, you little baby,
You don’t recognize what’s good for you!
Push away the peas,
But you’re still going to have to eat them!!!!
Your fresh eyes glanced easily upon stupidity,
No, not stupidity—merely mistake!
An innocent, mind-begrudging mistake!
That, yes, I admittedly made. . .
This is not even a scratch on the surface—
Not even a soft powder-pat on your tiny balls
That little trip up you witnessed,
That you misconceived as smart-alecky trash,
That you automatically assumed was ME,
It was YOU
So, rest easy,
I mashed the peas for you:
My heart is pumping with what you will never know
I am bleeding along the surface of your hardened exterior
I am a silly mistake in the form of a slip of the finger—
An acquitted mistake
That I will never make again
(trust me on that one, OLIVER!)
With all the efforts of justification,
You rest your eyes with utter annoyance upon me now
For that human, that CHILD standing there,
Smiling in the light like a sunburned baby’s ass
Is nothing but a diaper-filled disruption—
A **** disturbance uncalled for
But is adequately named, the one who IGNORES
The moment I looked at you, Oliver
I was certain of a sweet heart
It was in your eyes—a trust of kindness so genuine
So attractive you were,
Full of newness—a shiny toy that remains in the box
Limited edition (emphasis on limited)—exclusive….
By Destiny’s pacifying distain,
She taught me I could be crushed of dreams
The moment I fall on my face—
That people are not always who you think they will be
That I could be utterly and undeniably wrong in the good I see
And God, you sir, are so deliberately ugly to me!!!!!!
How’s that for an ETERNAL impression?!
*Sorry guys. But I needed a raw rant off my chest. Love you guys immensely. If there’s an Oliver that reads this poem on here, I promise I am not aiming this at you babe….just had to make that clear…. XD *
Heights there are,
Which no intelligence, perhaps, may reach,
But when the foolish conspire together
They fall, entwined, into bottomless deep.
Bad enough to drift in our lone delusions
But when leaders gather and constult,
Social decay should be the expected result.
How useful it is to know what's useful,
Better still when and where to apply it.
To get the two together properly is hard,
Which is why learned people seldom try it.
What a splendid state of delusion you inhabit, my friend!
Afloat upon a boundless sea of ignorance,
You drift towards disaster
With all the courage of an Alexander.
When it overtakes you, I'll never say,
"I told you so!"
Since no one could ever tell you anything.