Best Impressions Poems
He grabbed me up from where I lay, peaceful in the sun,
with my brothers and my sisters round about me.
I felt four digits seeming to be one of a whole,
which clasped around my form.
A fifth one, slightly broader, pressed onto me from my other side.
And then with a jolt, I found myself next lifted high into air,
the dry hot bed beneath me but a whisper of my past.
Accustomed, at the most, to being trodden upon,
I barely had the time to assimilate this rare experience
(I seemed to remember a sweeter touch long ago
from a smaller being who had picked me up,
examined me and then placed me back on the ground).
Suddenly, I was moving, this time unsupported, through the air.
I spied in a single spinning moment
a world I’d not envisioned from the spot on earth
I'd shared with pebble siblings.
In that place, we were surrounded
by greenery that blocked our view
and by giant old gray boulders, my ancestors perhaps.
Reposing heavily as if attached to land,
one such silent sentry supported him,
the creature who had flung me far from my home.
I found myself then bump, bump, bumping along,
making little rings across a shiny stretch of blue.
And when I lost momentum,
I disappeared beneath the final circle I’d created.
It felt much like the times I had been buried in cold whiteness,
but this instead was liquid cool!
I dropped down and down,
onto a different kind of ground, unusually soft and sticky,
the way earth used to feel for me after a sudden downpour.
Settled there, I noticed brown and silver shapes
that flitted past above me, much smaller
than many of the creatures of the land above me, but swifter.
Also there were tall green blades that swayed in place.
They resembled those that stood on solid ground.
Best of all, I saw around me others of my kind;
a multitude of us, small, beautiful and round,
with whom to share my soft new cozy bed!
In quest of wisdom supreme
Seeking truth esoteric
Beyond gravity, space, time,
Beyond senses of mankind,
In solitude, musing mind,
She invokes satori dreams
And finds zeal of nirvana
In sublime motifs of peace
October 20, 2020
Placed 2nd: Impressions Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Nette Onclaud
Visual # 3
Seven syllables per line (howmanysyllables.com)
Silent
is she whose
sharp mind
unraveled;
she died.
This woman,
friendly,
loved to gab
and laugh.
Unsmiling
in her
casket now. . .
her face
is strangely
beautiful.
May 13. 2019 for the 'Charlieku New Form' Poetry contest of charles messina
Poetry form description: The poem must be 15 lines long and the syllable count must be 23232,3232,323,23,3 Also, it must be 5 lines, 4 lines, 3 lines, 2 lines and 1 line.
For twenty-seven years I have lived here
inside this little city, Pleasant Grove.
I live too far away from sisters dear.
Not easily from this town could I rove!
I live here with a dog, a cat and spouse.
I hardly know a thing about this town.
I’m here because it’s where we built our house.
A few main streets I’m used to driving down
yet hardly know my way around this place!
I also do not know its histories.
One thing I like (for me, its saving grace) -
it’s home to many varied gorgeous trees!
My own hometown I know much better though
I spent my childhood there so long ago!
Written Jan. 3, 2016
For the contest of Silent One: Sonnet about where you live
The window to my soul's barred ~
I had left it open once,
but you did not tread lightly,
you stepped all over my heart
and crushed my belief in love;
my tears made me stronger, strong
enough to bar it again ~
now all that is left are scars.
10.20.2020
Visual 2
For Nette Onclaud's "Impressions" contest
I waited and waited but maybe
the time has passed...
Just one last time , a look, a
smile, something to grasp...
The birds fly over head so free
and so tranquil...
I watch them all, each flight not
new but never dismal...
Maybe one bird will have a note
that might say a reason why...
Or maybe I shall walk away and
see this was a goodbye...
The place I sit is absorbed in different
stages of memories...
From a start of coffee to long walks
that formed a love story...
As the trees changed and the seasons
have gone...
There is no escape from this distant bond...
a past experience,not forgotten ....
We are judged by our deeds
Not by our thoughts
Yet their trail of impressions
Forever's wrought
Parting Impressions
Baed on My Photo Poem which can be seen on my Twitter
URL
https://twitter.com/kapoor_/status/246124905899364352/photo/1
And on World Art foundation by copying and pasting following URL
http://wafglobal.ning.com/photo/golden-rays-of-sun?context=user
Parting Impressions
O, Golden rays of returning Sun
You are leaving your parting impressions
On these lovely yellow and dark brown clouds
While softly touching their lips
By the aroma of your enchanting lights
And saying to them a lasting Good bye.
Ravindra
Kanpur India 14092012
I can remember as a child
thinking then, snows were very deep,
that train trestles could touch the sky
and dad stood at least ten feet high.
With little legs standing in snow
Like twin stalagmites stacked and cold
certainly seemed deep, in my eyes.
Same could be said for train trestles;
Standing beneath them looking up,
It wasn’t hard to imagine
them touching that enormous sky.
Today standing somewhat stooped,
my octogenarian dad
remains that giant in my eyes.
I am stilled by the rustle
from maples breathing
as if their whiffs understand
my untold ancestry...
This lineage from David
to Moses carrying me
along boundless boundaries where
the Messiah walk on sea
and turns water into wine...
If I so believe
Perhaps, I am getting old
maybe wise enough
to scrape my flesh
amid bundled journals,
Unearthed by many biblical pages
still to come. And go.
---,----
And know that I am with you always; yes,
to the end of time.' --Jesus Christ
-------------------------
Contest of Anthony Slausen
6/18/2016
He realized shortly after seating himself
atop of a massive stone on the park's knoll,
gazing out over the lush spring-green prairie
sewn together by a clear, rippling brook,.
that sky reflections on those softly-rippling
waters were countless murals drawn,
washed clean, and painted anew on
the canvas of life in the blinking of his eye.
Sun's accretion warmed the back of his neck,
now more intense, risen past the vernal equinox.
Breezes buffeted fresh green grasses in the park.
Thermals carried gulls, geese, and migrating
pelicans on their journey to marshes and
lowlands in Canada. When last he sat on
the great stone the fall elements were stern, cold,
and annealed; anticipating a harsh plains winter.
Loping from south to north along the brook,
a wily fox worked his way toward a wide slough
and marshland near his view from the rock.
The fox's head swept side to side in instincts
perpetual sweep. From the stone he saw himself
an interloper, a fortunate meddler in the affairs
of nature; a nature whose portraits were always
vivid and vibrant; endlessly unique and pure.
Spring Impressions
9-24-16
Engulfed in a zephyr racing with eagerness
Our two halves make a whole core
Moving my fingers across the soft pallet of you
I’ll paint your sculpted hands forever in my mind
A splash of cherry red lips flushed with love
The sounds of intense drumming stroking in our hearts
An eternity is rapidly moving from eye to eye
Loves aroma encircling and flickering in our heads
Just a moment in time that lasted in the always
Strong and secure and soft venerable
Bound by your arms and held close to your soul
Altered in a state of emotional seduction
Two bodies rejoice in the sharing of love
I first saw her sitting at a table,
sipping her coffee at a small café.
Her eyes were brown and her hair was sable
her smile the kind that takes your breath away.
Sitting and minding my own coffee cup,
steam was rising in misty morning air.
His darkened gaze met mine when I looked up;
his smile did curl a face so debonair.
Steam rose from her cup as it met her lips
our eyes convened as I walked down the aisle
this classy lady’s beauty could launch ships
as I passed her by she returned my smile.
Who could not detect his confident air?
his valiant stride like a peacock in plume;
this man with wild wisps of soft windblown hair,
his full lips like tender petals in bloom.
As her smile fades I can’t help but wonder
if her love is pledged to another man
and if we met would lives be asunder
disrupting the balance of life’s own plan.
I chanced a glance; his hand for glints of gold
eyes struggled and suffered a quick debate
a ring on the hand that I longed to hold?
for it would surely determine our fate.
Perhaps I should just admire from afar,
and not let nature’s balance come ajar.
I was lifted without leaving my seat;
it’s easy to love those we never meet.
IMPRESSIONS of REALITY
becoming
enmeshed
in endless
detail
in the shadows
startling
depictions
turmoil
&fireworks
with
extreme reactions
the
interconnectedness
of
change over
time
raising questions
reflecting
the influence
both
inspire&
surround
to
shape ideas
&present
emphasising
the integral
soundings
& thus
showcases
the
three-dimensional
NOTE:THIS IS AN OPEN(organic) FORM VERSE using spaces&breaks without grammatical symbols ,the ' open' relies upon 'the one breath limitation' & so inherently requires the 'reader' (reciter) to input and responds thus making this enigmatic form a two way interplay & interpretatIon unique to the moment& changing according to mood is inherently variable.
Copyright © Brian Strand
....useless undertakings....
...my best efforts were shot down...divided...fragmented...
...spirit pulled apart my exertion... dismantling me...
...I guess I was my tries....
....leaving me looking at how I was rejected by the universe...
So now, I no longer crusade for my own campaigns...
...the movement came apart and died.... and with it,
took my drive and the pride of my drive....
...it doesn't matter what my goal was...
...the attempts were my best...
...my all declined, resisted, turned away
when my all was me....
What can I say?
Obviously, my spirit is still broken
and time looms on.... and on and on....
I've grown unsettled not being whole....
....swimming amongst the puzzle pieces
that once held the picture together......
the goal disassembled....a result left in parts....
...and I long to move on, I do!.
...but action was what got me to this point...
...activity walked me onto the path of deconstruction
over and over again....
How can I move on?....
Can I operate without doing?
Can I proceed without process?
How God?
...How?
I know this isn't rational....
....just cause my words get me into trouble
doesn't mean I shouldn't speak...
....but my emotions reason for me....
....and this is how it feels, feeling more real
than breathe... than light.... than now....
these childish impressions leave me sensing
premonitions that dispute function as a problem
...I can't do...doing sends me destruction....
...but love is action...
... there is no other way...
...I need a miracle....
...a shift in perception...