Best Incubating Poems
Rosette tapestries of unparalleled glamour
Embroided thoroughly by the wittiest clamor
Magnanimously amorous in grace and wonder
Bewitching and charming though so yonder
Rhetorically out bounding my frugal thoughts
To be "irresistible", my flawless pure cause
Starlight's amiss your ornate romantic spell
Driving me sweetly to madly deep to compel
Handful of metaphors and highfalutin words
Illuminating. Inspiring. Invigorating.
Incubating anyone with one unique style
Wonderful, beautiful, matchless, they foretell
Vividly inventive and bombastic with each stroke
To hardened hearts, you can surely start to stoke
Erratically tender enough to adagio break the silence
Drawing anyone for more and more to your essence
by:
olive eloisa
2:54 pm
Revised April 24, 2014
CONTEST: ANY POEM #24
Sponsor: POET DESTROYER A
3RD PLACE
HUNGARIAN RHAPSODY
Her hand’s swan-like dance,
ivory shadow puppets
romance. Hungarian rhapsody.
The musician sans existence
as emotive fingers move
imaginary marionettes
with splendiferous precision.
Drama drops onto piano keys
occasionally taking a gentle stroll
then in sensuous sway, sashaying
like an exotic dancer. The musician
plucks and plinks as if
with chameleonic charm, like an
angel playing a harp.
Her fingers fast walk the keyboard
then resound tremulous keys.
(The audience swoons, spooned
by a rapturous torrent that enters
the heart, strokes and kisses
the yearning flesh, like the taste
and feel of brandy, burning and
tantalizing in breathlessness)
The musician’s slender fingers
now strum along in gaiety, like
paramours on the streets of Paris,
Springtime in the air. Palms nearly
rest upon silent keys as if two lovers
lay back upon a bed with puffs of smoke.
Dawn’s crescendo, with peaks of happiness
reside upon streets of ebony and ivory.
Life’s serendipitous monologue begins
once more with foreboding or adventure
or both. Is there loneliness upon this crest
for what has happenstance brought,
are they star-crossed? Do we see the sun
and the moon racing through their pulse —
days of birth and mourning?
(The blond marionette in concert black
seems to be mesmerized or hypnotized
by the muse of music. She’s like a dream
on a performance stage. Practiced in
illumination of flame. She releases the arrow
and the audience brightens up like a chandelier
with clinking and brilliant crystal pieces)
Happiness once again but with ferocious fervor
sends the keys to a heavenly place - to ears,
to mind, to soul...a cheer of a great parade,
and then the shivering of climatic peak,
followed by a lullaby of dreams - we imagine
a newborn wrapped up in a life well-lived.
The darling gal still doesn’t give up the ghost
but plays and plays...can you hear the needle
stuck at the vinyl’s end...spending all love gives?
Only the Creator Himself can lift the arm and
carry the musician still incubating all her charm.
3/19/2018
We are all in the same boat
Just trying to stay afloat
Not drowning under the waves
That ripple and grow more each day
Life jackets can help us bounce
But something comes along to pounce
Dragging us down to the bottom
There's only so much we can fathom
Until we can't catch our breath
From the murky water depths
Of life that happens every day
From an anchor we just sway
Hoping to survive this fate
Of a weight that's much too great
Everyone is suffocating
We could use some incubating
So we can breath once again
Letting all this drowning end
As I listen to the lark’s surreal melody to her mate.
I wonder does she ever feel there’s too much on her plate?
Ever beside him juggling, tediously feathering the nest,
in her discomfort struggling, incubating without rest.
I wonder if in her daydreams does she laze as her mind lingers
in bygone days pursued by teams, of young and gallant singers?
Or does she occupy her days with tending her small brood
not entertaining winsome ways as gaping nibs crave food?
Does he while out a’gathering, squirming tidbits for their young,
ever give way to lathering ‘cause his work is never done?
Does his keen eye ever wander over lighter creamy breasts
allowing himself to ponder his days of youthful quests,
or does his steadfast honor seek but to gather and bring home
supper for each tiny beak never thinking once to roam?
As I hear the song bird warble, with expectancy to her mate
I’m thankful for each morsel placed in love upon my plate.
And listening to the lark refrain his bride’s devoted call,
I find being called a birdbrain the best compliment of all.
A BRUSH OF ARS POETICA
Rhythmic verses wherein death paints a picturesque of life
or life itself is written in lethargic-dying state:
a dusty stocked vocabulary still cuts like a knife
when done and re-phrased witty, nonparallel and ornate.
Like the azure fluffy clouds parading affront the sun,
its smiling hue of yellow-orange kisses sleeping hope--
softly flaming those frugal thoughts in grace and wonder stun,
remarkable enough to line dream stanzas ropes and slopes.
Strokes cast spells of rattles, rambles to erratic silence
allowing trembles to twang murmurs upon hardened hearts
same as magnet it attracts eyes and ears to your essence
because your speech ushers morals incubating fresh starts.
_______________________________________________________________
***Sponsor Thomas Martin
Contest Name Ars Poetica
++Placed 1st++
O.E. Guillermo
2:26 pm, March 06, 2015
***I define art of poetry as variations of light and dark, life and death, pale and vibrant, real and fiction... Writing poetry resurrects life even to a scene spelling disaster and death. Art of poetry embodies every angle aiming to touch the senses. Deep and superficial, all around breathing or not screams/is an art of poetry.
A mother that hears the cry of her baby
does not turn deaf ears to show indifference.
A woman prepared for a culinary task,
by all means, gathers the condiments required.
A barricadoed road, however restrictive,
suffices not to keep an incubating hen off her eggs.
A nocturnal darkness does not stand to disorientate
a hand to miss its way to the mouth.
Scavenging any available heaps in sight
reflects the missing of a valuable.
Born May 5, 1818, in Trier Germany
to Heinrich and Henrietta Marx,
sans the third of nine children
(and second oldest heir)
Karl Marx thinking begot incendiary sparks,
asper his two most controversial publications
titled The Communist Manifesto,
and Das Kapital
which political philosophy
incubating seeds of self destruction didst birth
doctrines of class struggle,
historical materialism, dearth
of equitable wealth, and inherent
contradictions of industrial capital
distributed unevenly
across avast swath of Earth
thus inviting his perspective
(conveniently exploited,
mined, and usurped) advocating
the working class (proletariat)
to expedite organized revolutionary action
to topple capitalism and bring about
socio-economic emancipation,
where wages of sin exchanged for labor bled
fingers to the bone life source, viz proletariat
till slaving laborer nearly became gratefully dead
despite being cased in 12 point
Times New Roman garb, who incessantly fed
insatiably maws of production,
(no way to get a supportive talking head)
particularly highlighted
within schema of Capitalism),
a predominant paradigm
stratifying society led
to internal tensions engendered
between bourgeoisie red
dilly controlling means
of production codified as said
as die a critical approach Marx coined
as historical materialism,
where figurative landmines forced one to tread
gingerly, thus above stated philosophy
would supposedly lead down the road
where self destruction wrought marriage
birthing Socialism offspring from shot gun wed
ding, thus coaxing eventual establishment
of classless communist society meant
to establish free association of producers who spent
exchanging merchandise amidst classless
campy population hood pitched a tent.
What is the purpose of poetry,
and therefore the meaning of the poet?
Beautiful style?
Aesthetic merit?
Artistic elegance or the beauty of its truth?
Is poetic purpose the meaning of its language
or the art of linguistic choices?
Of course it must be both,
symbiotically planting and fertilizing,
creating and cultivating, each incubating embryo,
flowing and forming regenerative language
An expression of intuition
with deduction, co-arising
refined with exegetically known
and felt soul-truth
through eisegetical sieved analogies,
trials and sub-optimizing errors,
evolutions and ecologies of syntax
conjoined within and without
through transcendent values
avoiding prosaic disvalues,
relationships inviting well-being,
principles of languaged left-brained human nature
dancing prancing right-brain's preposterous spirit,
dream-dancing DNA encryption
team-taught description
within each cell of healthy live
is not unwealthy evil.
Poets seed and winnow language,
thought,
understanding and unlearning
misunderstanding,
rationality
and polymorphic transanity,
form and function flowing fine flowering frequencies
comprehensively mentoring
and mediating
Earth's holistic therapy.
Eisegetical hopes and hypotheses disclose Time's exegetical ecology.
Poetic epiphany disguises Earth's logic as mythic teleology.
The sunlight beams down on a warm spring day
and the blues abate on a warm spring day.
March snowflakes morph into April showers;
and shoots start sprouting, on a warm spring day.
A cacophony of birds can be heard
chirping for a mate, on a warm spring day.
And yellow daffodils pop from the ground;
at a frantic rate, on a warm spring day.
Nesting birds take turns sitting on their brood
incubating eggs on a warm spring day.
Butterflies emerge from their chrysalis
and try out their wings on a warm spring day.
Dandelion seeds, rigged to parachutes;
gently float aloft, on a warm spring day.
And the crack of a bat hitting a ball;
rings out from home plate, on a warm spring day.
Maternal maidens modestly make miracles
Incubating infants into incarnation
Loyally loving laundering life
Completing consciousness crowns, circulating
Fortuitous freedom, forgiving
Enlarged egocentric expulsions
Boundlessly boiling beseeching brothers
Preventing planetary peace
Wisely Worship women with wholeness...
No one of us
and all of us together
believe in optimal power within
in total absence of any power among,
without.
Short-sighted political therapy evolves
short-minded economic health is
small-mindedness,
pretending Self and Other and Earth
are not eternally interdependent.
Pain and loss and blindness
cause long-sited suffering,
wrestling with God's absence of fulfillment
Great aerobic exercise,
but let us not fool
or bully ourselves,
or Others,
or God,
and most certainly not Earth
in this her eternally holy Day.
Only competitive assumptions wrestle against health;
while cooperative eco-normic awareness
wrestles with,
side by side,
each challenge shared.
Wrestling is dissonance resolving contention
stretching for harmony
co-arising contentment,
diminishing confusion to
chronic suffering of advent,
just the right amount of pain and ego-loss
for regenerative redeemer rebirth.
Pain, loss, dissonance deny
optimistic accidental history
but may ecologically coincide
with interactive mutually-held hope
that peace with ego's self-justice
ultimately emerges
from each biosystemic incarnation's incubating life
toward further regenerative health
and love
and love of health
and health of love,
then too there is lovely health of wealthy love,
but that could take us in another similar climaxing
dialectically emergent
dipolar co-arising direction.
In silted apron blossoms baby
Incubating heat fondles canopy
From leafy trellis sprouts progeny
With briny tears, warmth grows quickly
Acorn melded to fertile tree
Succoring streams flow freely
Ballasted perch shared dutifully
Fragile shell tendered stem's realty
Paternal arms clasp twig-end tightly
Structural beams foster stability
Nutrients funnel expanding the cavity
Well-rounded hull with shared identity
Truant winds the bond doth atrophy
Shaking strands that clutch lovingly
Ripening acorn longs new vistas to see
With heavy heart falls from caring tree
Dry, barren ground leaches each gratuity
Rotting leaves fondle exterior incessantly
Surface ambitions soiled by limited mobility
Predatory marauders pilfer each, bright opportunity
Acorn will not stray far from security
Paternal shadow hovers patiently
With overarching wings shield calamity
During trials, trickle down tears of empathy
Hello!
Hello in there?
Can you feel me yet?...
Welcome to the United States of America!
The U-nited States began as an incubation site
for humane freedom and justice,
although our elders were a bit ahead of
non-violent communication therapy,
mind/body communion therapy,
so we have run into some long-term monoculturing problems
with linking up our justice walk
with our multicultural peace talk.
You have chosen to seed in what was our global hope
for incubating ecological economics.
I so hope you develop neither surprised nor disappointed
in the U.S. rebranding project,
now providing global laundry and enculturation services
for other would-be sub-optimizers
perpetually fascinated,
and distractedly entertained,
with anthro-centric adolescence,
devoid of sufficient ecological heart
to assure healthy root systems
for EarthTribe's potential grandchildren.
This U-benighted States of perpetual anthroprivileged greed
and monolithic egohubris,
now aspires to become Earth's monopolistic
Monocultural Laundry Service,
divesting of polycultural natural enrichment
to thoroughly trash the exciting high risk market
in anthro-centric extract-and-burn entitlements.
If you thought you had landed
within smooth warm womb
of old school not Zero-Sum
Win-Win Golden Rule Skin
in a Permacultural Game Theory
of regenerative life outcomes...
well,
good luck being born a polypathic alien
in this Oppositional Disordered political and racing-apart economic monoculture,
this DisUniting whitewashed policing State
of fear we could never have or become enough,
out to save the globe with arms of might
now that we have proven
how great we are with shooting down each other,
in our homes and on our streets.
Welcome, baby,
it's a not-so-brave old world
in our UBeNighted State.
A significant line might be drawn
between long-term permaculture design
and agribusiness,
improved this year production
through better and more expansive chemistry,
soil and water and air and light pollution.
We might draw a parallel contrast
between inclusive Earth-nurturing politics
and elitist anthropocentrism
Between human natural purpose
and Earth-nature's felt wealth
of healthy co-passionate meaning
Between divine cooperation
inducing continuous Yin-flow
belonging in joy
and human competition
deducing discontinuous Yang-strength
of longing to restore Earth Justice
Between cooperative stewardship
and anti-ecological autonomy of human nature's
competitive capital-dominant rulership.
From a LeftBrain deductive dominant perspective
this line looks like Old School preservation,
of mutual antipathy.
Yet, from a cooperative Left-Right mindbody perspective
this same line
looks and feels
like a dipolar appositional space
for incubating heuristic co-empathic trust
For significant deep learning Both-And co-empathy,
rather than necessarily always and only Either-Or antipathy,
appositionally benign rather than always
and everywhere bipolar toxic
A nonviolently co-passionate practice
of egoMe/ecoWe
+1/-(-0) cobinary
peace-making perspective.
Just as Either-Us/Or-Them cognition
follows Win v Lose
not health-effective outcomes,
while Both-Us/And-Them follows Win+Win
bipartisan transactional resilience outcomes
for EarthGame Day and Night
compassionate Earth-wealth continuance.
So, suppose,
both UpperCaste and LowerCaste positions,
at the risk of oversimplifying a multiculturally caste situation
Republican nationalistic agri-vating business
merely an appositional uncreative distraction
from Democratic polyculture delighting designs
and multicultural power planning
For CoOperative Earth Ownership
and ReGenerative TransForming Governance,
still including some degenerative-decomposing functions,
yet without recreating a runaway waste stream
nor a runaway personal, family, community,
or national nutritional, financial, or health-assurance deficit.
That's what's been up-caste
and down-caste
within my bicameral Yang/Yin mind.
What's been co-evolving with you
and your unconditional love-extending family?
Autumn morning wakes to the winter solstice.
Shadows lengthen, hiding in lonely forests.
Naked tree limbs reach for the cold moon's brilliance.
Heavenly silence...
Season's mother patiently incubating -
Seedlings sleeping under the drifting snowfall.
Nature's blanket ~ natural incubation
Waiting for springtime...
Cozy fires flicker on frosted windows.
Prayerful voices echoing through the silence -
As tomorrow waits like a wistful wish does
Hopeful horizons...