Best Incandescently Poems
keep the music sorrowfully low,
so big daddy doesn’t hear.
the shadowy figures, surrender
and whisper in your ear.
the psychedelic colors flow
like the sea foam beat.
Angie, your chromatic hair
smells incandescently sweet.
locked and loaded, alone
with your beastie dreams.
your pillow’s soft and it leans -
your coming apart “at the seams”
one boy plays peek-a-boo, sniffing
your honeysuckles suspended.
tickled by your goldilock curls,
not realizing all it portended.
like walking into the deep dark wood,
he creeps hand and foot, eyes first
like a prowling tiger, tail wagging,
with a rattling tongue a-thirst.
Angie, swooshes her fingers
through his hair, hushes him.
...he stares at the ceiling stars
...loud music descends on his limbs.
Angie digs her embryonic duffel bag,
smiles and adds his decomposing bones
to the ashes of her huge imagination
and recalls that in this world, she’s all alone.
5/8/2019
Musical Inspiration Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Joseph May
Song choice: Angie, Baby by Helen Reddy
This morning we jogged early
I was back in my flat by six-thirty
From my tenth floor view of the Charles River basin,
The morning was incandescently flushed by the peach-colored sun.
The transparent clouds seemed stylistically stained, artfully workshopped,
which offered a softened, Tiffany glass effect wholly worthy of worship.
I can’t stop to admire it. I’m jamming things into suitcases.
Cramming things into boxes, giving things away.
I had a second interview Monday afternoon, for Johns Hopkins med school. They put the question to me:
“The semester starts in 18 days - can you do that?”
“Yes,” I replied, and just like that, I'm a Blue Jay.
Of course, I had to withdraw from the masters program but Harvard gave me a full (95K) refund - I think they’re more excited about my med school admission than I am.
I’m not afraid of discordant notes.
They change the landscape.
Take us to new emotional places.
Any major work is going to have them.
.
.
A song for this:
Hang on Little Tomato by Pink Martini
It's Amazing by Jem
I wish I was an eagle soaring
With golden wings of light
Incandescently gliding across a moonlit sky
Swooping, diving, rising upwards
Harbouring dreams of a new age
Idyllic is the beauty of the feeling of feathered games
Wondering how the eagle feels soaring high over mountain peaks
Everlasting memories is that not what we all seek
Ruminating on questions about all that eagles see
Everlasting quintessential birds flying on filigree golden wings.
D - Dawn of day and dawn of Spring made splendid by the Dahlia
A- Astonishing pinks, reds, oranges and yellows roaring with the life of several sensational suns
H- Harmonious eloquence perched on the tall stem of natural beauty
L- Luxuriousness unrivalled by human composition or creation
I- Incandescently perfumed with the sanctimonious scent of Spring
A- Alive with life and love just like you and I
You’re an enduring eclipse of quotidian winsomeness,
Existing in front of all others, compelling the aforesaid into your shadow:
My Beautiful One…
Surpassing their talent for beauty,
By allowing the world to witness your gift for it:
My Beautiful One…
Rejuvenating a word once relegated to becoming depthless,
Its affects near fleeting, Beautiful showed few signs of standing peerless as it once did,
Though within your presence, Beautiful is brought back to its quintessence, to its inception,
Shown the miracle it was conceived in, you’ve promoted its ordinance even over that of the beholder’s vision:
My Beautiful One…
In your arms, embosomed by you, Beautiful is free from its superficial cellar,
No longer just vernacular, the “B” word for pretty, or merely our lexicon’s adornment.
No, My Beautiful One…
In your face, Beautiful finally returns nature’s true reflection,
Your facial features burn incandescently and uncontrollably, fueled by a lifetime of beauty all in one place.
My Beautiful One anoints Beautiful with her grace, returning its virtue,
Granting it renewed potency…thought lost for always…
Written in Afghanistan -27 OCT 2013
glistening, sparkling
incandescently bright blue
pool of mystery
I light a candle for I love its soft light
But it flickers despite no breeze in night
I like the flicker, but I want it to be happy
To be steady, contented, a friend true and sure.
Is it puffs of wind that disturb it so?
I feel no draft of breeze on go
Perhaps its warmth creates its own updraught
Perhaps it knows more than I about air care.
Is there a spirit congealed within the wax?
That I bring to life with enlighted match
If so then I welcome this spirit stuff strut
But Please! Stop waving at me incandescently.
Is there some imperfection in the candle?
Have I urged in buying too cheaply, got junk
Next time I'll buy better, I promise.
So Please! Stop the flicker, forgive me!
When I stare at the candle intensely
Does it flicker more or less
Is it better this way or that?
Forget the flicker, move it away a tad.
There now, the flicker is beyond peripheral
It is still there ticking away its flicks
But flicker and I have compromised
A concensus to be unconsciously enlightened.
A Glimpse of T.I.P Journey
Education never stops and so learning does
The moment we embrace challenges
is the moment we climb and hold this torch
The torch of light and hope as we, painstakingly
reach for the pinnacle of success
On this day of Valentine’s
May we, instead reminisce and celebrate joyously
This Teacher Induction Program
But let not our pretty mind vanquish
My fellow mentees,
Remember how we arrived strangers at first
Knowledge and skills we all aimed and thirst
Like first day of school
Forget not the teachings of our mentors
As they helped mold us professionally
of who we are today
Sharing ideas, concepts and materials
Unlimited laughter partake in every meeting
Mind blowing activities, aye, night skippers!
To meet and hit the button of “deadline”
An endless cycle
of a student life
These shall be the roots
of our friendship and camaraderie
A journey worth roller-coaster ride!
May this poetry be heard and dignified
May this act of gratitude remind every mentor of our T.I.P
We, mentees are completely, perfectly and incandescently happy
We, mentees acknowledge your utmost dedication
To seamlessly immerse young professionals
in the teaching profession
We, mentees recognize that one day we will own the torch
The torch of responsibility that once our Mentors beheld
Shall pass to the next generation of young teaching professionals
Since boyhood I did dream
of landscapes with visions so idyllic,
and sitting under a huge pine tree
that the Campanian breeze undulated gently,
they excited me by stirring thoughts so intrinsic...
brighter than gems and stars, and 'till evening came:
the Divine and the Human blended into a harmony
which enhanced the celestial images slowly
and magnificently revealing themselves to me!
Awake the Shakespeare in me,
his intellectual ability
is lava flowing incandescently...
invading slopes with its intense heat and fiery flame
that nobody preventing it from sliding can tame;
it withholds nothing from me and writing
incessantly, I notice all, not letting
images flee memory!
I sought loneliness to contemplate creation
with its awesome sunrises and sunsets:
who could envision Heaven without faith?
I did imagine it by putting in motion a belief which any heart
would accept and be stunned by the moon's colorlessness
as those Cirrus clouds tried to hinder her hazy brilliance,
and it did shine to make me fearless...
and let me explore incredible nights of fascination!
Awake the Shakespeare in me
by gathering an audience before my stage
illuminated by the constant light of the constellations:
will my lines delight faces or cause rage?
Shout and interrupt me, if I fail to entertain you with improvised amazement;
applaud me, if I achieve what I came to do so passionately!
If the captain of a stranded ship challenges fierce oceans,
then I might as well incite profound emotions and lure you into wonderment!
“...fallen into the sere, the yellow leaf”
As the Bard penned, describes eloquently
How old age steals up on us like a thief
At night, invisible and silently
We frown at the mirror in disbelief
At wrinkles, lost teeth and vitality
So, something that brings a smile to one’s face
Helps roll back the years and glumness displace
The label promises blooms from this box
Each yellow sunflower yields thousands of seeds
Which lure insects in swarms and birds in flocks
Its cousin, cosmos, will out-climb the weeds
Nigella (or love-in-a-mist) grows stocks
Of blue flowers enough for all our needs
Oh, and then there’s the lovely red poppy
No other garden flower can copy.
Antirrhinum (from Greek) means `like a nose’
Called snapdragon it opens for a bee
A cold weather plant that can survive snows
Midget, medium or tall it might be
But each red, white, pink or yellow bloom glows
Like a hot ember incandescently
Last, lavender exquisitely scented
If they all grow, I’ll be well contented
When you await that day for so long just to see their face,
Not too much longer will you have to go, you're almost to Home Base.
All the pain you've been through, will be worth it in the end.
One look at that precious face, and you'll be the envy of some friends.
You look over to the side and see a tiny bed which is clear,
So you can see each precious feature of a child that is very near.
When you're almost done and you feel that final tear.
The pain and anticipation is almost more than you can bear.
Here comes a tiny bundle of dark hair and gorgeous eyes,
Ten little fingers and ten tiny toes, it scared me at first since I heard no cries.
Finally, my son is born and I thank God he is alive, and FINALLY here.
A perfect child in my eyes, and I'm incandescently happy, but also full of fear.
Will I be a good Mother, will I know what to do?
This is all so scary, and oh so very new.........
I hold him closely to my heart,
I'm Finally a Mommy, no time to fall apart.
I KNOW I can do this, I don't really have a choice.
The moment I found out I was pregnant, I began to rejoice.
Now I have two children, and I only had to give birth to one!
Illyanna and I now await for our children to grow and have fun.
My Mornings are now, well, wonderful.
Something I now look forward to.
There is a bird singing outside my window,
And he sounds a lot like you do.
The problem is, he has to fly away, every now and then,
And I wish that he could stay.
But he takes my heart upon his wings,
And somehow makes it all okay.
And even though what keeps me from him,
Is a million constant waves.
He moves me so, incandescently,
In a billion different ways.
If only he could see my eyes,
He’d see the joy he brings.
He’d see the glistening happiness…
In the corners, where it stings.
And even when his years are numbered,
And his feathers have turned to grey…
I’ll be lying against my window.
Loving him.
As if, it were the very first day.
Eloquently serene
Reminds me of seas
Of aquamarine,
Peaceful solitude
Aids my dreams,
Of forested trees
In bottle green verdancy,
I create my dreams
In luminescent
Tangerine themes,
Warm is my heart
That is fired by my passion,
In flames that are burning
White hot incandescently,
In a life that has more colour
Than we think or we see,
Vermilion is my blood
That races through me,
Golden are my days
Bathed in spirituality
Filigree are the wings
On which I fly from thee,
Into a pink, purple and orange
I fade into this sunset
And let it envelop me,
As well as all my hopes, beliefs and dreams
For now and all eternity.
THE SECRET OF THE STARS.
As the day draws to dusk, and day, nears its end,
Night’s curtain slowly begins to fall,
I watch the horizon, for the first,
Silent sentinels, to call.
As the night is enveloped into darkness,
They, many fold, begin to appear,
Some so vary far, yet some so near.
They glow, incandescently, flickering,
Like a candle flame in the breeze,
There call, illuminating, in the vast expanse,
So alive, they sway,
These astral giants seem to dance.
Longingly, I reach out to touch them,
To know them, and to know, why,
Yet silent they remain, as ever unanswering,
Distant,
Their communion forever am I denied,
Not once, has one of them replied.
Such is the secret of the stars,
The complexity of them , and the vastness, unknown,
Forever beautiful,
Eternal.
Clement Hardy.
Abominable barrage bombards
fortified barracks show
warring subsequently, incandescently,
and brilliantly doth glow
biden time, this
garden variety Joe Schmoe
hunkers down deep
within arched bunker poe
wet tickly donning
pence sieve stance against row
battery weathering incessant assault
invariably waiting for Godot,
albeit devout atheist doubting Thomas
suffers major blow
wavering, vacillating, undulating...
ominous foreboding,
viz more'n one circling crow
decries status ranking sincerely
truly posthumous hero
reconnaissance delivers...
yup absolute zero
looming dark shadow
futile against inconsolable sorrow
anonymous bookish deadened
erstwhile febrile fellow
good as gone, cuz yours truly...
fresh outta ammo
resigned killed in action
another unmarked grave
housing lovely bones
courtesy contemplative bro
charred body foretells, know,
and promises not one daisy will grow
despite fervent obeisance
soul fully do I futilely bellow
worse fate than death
i.e. gulag archipelago
feebly decrying, lamenting,
lamely pleading against
bleak unfair in apropos
sentence never granted furlough
never to witness celestial amarillo
beatific, cathartic, fantastic...,
nor chase gold pot end of rainbow
all pleasant dreams, I must forego
seek neither fame nor glory hobo
content whiling away (Billy me)
idolized time solitary Homo
sapien re: me tortured afterlife
enslaved forever guilty "fake" pharaoh
moans... suddenly joyous tears flow
aforementioned psychedelic mashup
figment of imagination - psycho
illogical gallimaufry, hallucinatory,
and illusory expo
attempt lame analogy how I wallow,
when setting sail
to launch crafted poe
whim, whereby invisible
battle scars attest
successful amphibious ambition
inundated battling lightspeed tempo
competing ideas exhaust
thus, I seek comfort of
soft cloud like pillow!