Best Limned Poems
HORSE
Hell-bent stallion muscles led the mustangs through the plain,
On their heels rode hard a hired man –his job to rope the best--
Rearing high the stallion—urging speed as autumn winds dance thru his mane.
Sheets of lighting limned silhouettes as they pounded toward the west--
Enchanted now the man reined in—this day let beauty rule his breast.
I remember, back before puberty,
and all concomitant complexities,
visiting the pond behind our barn,
to watch water spiders.
I wondered what we would like living on thin transparent skin
between two equally visible universes,
one below, and one above.
Below,
life would be somewhat darker
but unlike soil.
I would look down into flowing water space,
watching other little pond insects and amoebas, and lichen,
and occasional predator fish or water snake,
or frog.
Above,
I could look up to see flying insects,
and grass forests,
rocks above, as below,
but dry, lighter, easier to maneuver,
to stick to,
to remember.
Again, the occasional predator,
like birds and again those pesky frogs
who also tend to live near life's bicameral surface.
Yet, in a way, this surface,
Boundary skin between two universes,
Prime Relationship limned barrier
between air and water universes
has its own specific unitarian traits,
responding to both air and water flow,
sometimes confluently,
sometimes dissonantly.
My own spidery journey along that surface,
looking in and looking up,
is quite different than looking out,
forward,
with confusion as I lose capacity to integrate down and up
while staring toward my independent
rooted past and crowning future.
So, my water spider grows three eyes.
Only supereco eye looks directly toward my future,
interpreting Prime Relationship between my right eye,
sensing water within below,
and inside
While my left eye,
looking up and out,
seeks to understand
what this huge mammal,
a red headed kid,
is doing with our fresh-aired day.
When Azrael* comes knocking, it won’t be with bony fists,
I believe, he’ll be a Doctor, with a cure,
Or a Maiden with her posies, a Knight jousting in the lists,
Or a gently whistling, mournful Troubadour.
When my time has come for leaving, I believe, I’ll punch him out,
Though I’ll break my hand in doing it, I’m sure
Or he’ll duck the blow and throw me o’er his shoulder like some lout
And I’ll have to go with him to Evermore.
I suppose he’s used to fearsome images, limned in the mind,
Where spectres, spooks and ghouls widely endure
But I think he’s just a jailer, come to open (and be kind)
The way out of a cage that serves, no more.
So, when he brings his medicine, I think I’ll swallow it,
And thank him for the friends he’s brought with him
I don’t believe he’ll be a jolly soul, although I wit
He’ll stroke my bald head, turn the lights to dim…
Or, when she shows me posies, with a certain tranquil air,
I deeply will inhale, nod, go to sleep,
And let her cool my hot brow with a hand that isn’t there,
Give thanks, she’s eased the passage I must keep.
Or, when he boldly rides at me, sharp angle to his spear,
I’ll bellow out a challenge, DING! his helm,
And keep my seat, take point through shield, ride at him without fear,
And know my lady watches o’er the realm.
Or, lastly, when he whistles a low tune that stills my heart,
I’ll join in, softly sing along with him,
As he plucks his sombre lute strings I will hum the descant part
And slowly fade away, heart in the trim.
____________
*Azrael – in Henry Wadsworth Longfellow’s poem of the same name, the Angel of Death
2/28/2019
Surfside stand a lady & man
lost in (a moment) on silca lands
so stand this even (handed two)
before a sky limpid blue
with a hearts glow to melt the burning sand.
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Love limned laughter, (lines out) sweet promised sign,
satin billows of cloud surround divine,
backdrop sky a blue silk screen
young as fun forever keen
pre-empting fate this faultless time.
Pouring waves and passion combine
light moods, effervescent (platinum fine)
flows a presence vivid and wild,
flaming love; (destiny's child,)
raptured revolving evolving in time.
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By Joe Maverick,copyright 2011 for Linda-Marie's loveland limerick contest.
Crisp…Crisp the night!
‘Pon cheeks as white as snow
Crazy quilt of rimed patterns
Limned upon the window
Soft…soft the lacy flakes!
Each one unique and new
Blanket o’er land and lakes
Winter’s take on dew
Games…games of Fox and Hound!
Pristine drifts of frosting
Turned into frigid battlegrounds with
Brief truces for time defrosting
Steam…cottony steam!
Wool mittens too near the flame
Cold stiff fingers, white as cream
Toes frozen from the game
Quiet…Winter quiet! (shhhh)
Sounds muffled by the fluff
Of snow so deep not e’en a peep
Can struggle up through the stuff
Smoke…writhing smoke!
Reaching for the sky
Chimneys breathing, tendrils weaving
Rising with a sigh
Winter…cold, cold hard winter!
Makes Summer wishes come to light
Til icicles fall, shatter and splinter
…Tis crisp…crisp the night!!!…
Their fiery blossoms swayed against the sky
In breezy weather and Mama and I
played games, describing how
the long, gold-tipped pistils wrote,
on air, sweeping pollen poems.
No eye that saw could help but read.
Their blooms were red against the green,
And in the early morning wet we deemed
We saw the blood of homegrown heroes,
Who died for duty, deftly limned ---
Dreams to occupy two minds
That loved the moves, in wind,
Of red hibiscus past their primes.
She laces this dark late winter's evening
with white manna grace,
flowing flying frosting
folding in and over and around
dark naked tree limbs
Dressed up and out
under ice limned networks
down in-flowing rivers
emptying onto cold cover
of frozen lace-flake
shivering shimmering
sad season
Hovers over what had been
pedestrian front predation lawn,
now transforming and mesmerizing
ecstatic ice crystals
Twinkle in response
as their ice-flame children
follow in post solstice pilgrim path
to die their individuality
within this here-now scurried view.
I smile, perhaps flirtatiously,
within shy winter's virgin dream,
a stubborn storm of snow
softly settling
quieter than white noise still
so so civilly right,
a silent black then white
bright moving set
frames a roundly wonderful life.
S/he is not smiling back;
I know that
But I feel this cold embrace
teasing tickling of too-perfect beauty,
hope imagining S/he could sleep
within heaven's blanket
Dream down Her winter's rain
for deep composting thirst
to drink through walls of hibernating glad
brewing spring's warmest winding offer.
This could go on all night
free of freezing fright
This reverse stalking
inside window peeper out
across front and back porches
Glazing Gaia's grace
elational transfiguration,
silent musing ecodrama
shows off Her magic show
for those with ears to see
through silent first snow
of momentous perennial occasion
Falling just in time
to brighten this sad day for dreams
of Beloved black in white Communions
spreading EarthMother's silent storm
Of love,
impossible to ever sleep
deep same again
Unlikely to become unlover,
to uncover
supremely white slippery cover.
Such elegant purgation grace!
I would dishonor Her
to break such silent sleep
within surrender's coldly storming space.
The ship was atoss on the ungallant sea
The swells took a toll as the hull strained and cracked
It would be fair time afore it sought the lee
With the slams and the pitching the ship could be wracked.
The foc'sle went down, the stern rose on high
And in the next instant the ship yawed aside
The water rushed in torrents, the Bo'sun heaved a sigh
If the hatches gave way, then woe betide.
The men on the watch were tied to their posts
The lookouts puked blood, the buckets were filled
They stood out limned as outworldly ghosts
Clamping teeth with their might, their bones fully chilled.
The wind was a-roaring, it blew off the 'rafts
The riggings danced the stays started steaming
The boats in the davits went banging abaft
The klaxons went wild as they started their screaming.
"Abandon ship" blared the hailer as the Cap stood on the bridge
And soon was heard a sound that all hoped never to hear
A tearing, a snap, a boom, for gone was the ridge
Of the keel gave up it's struggle unable to bear.
The Cap stood his post as his men jumped overboard
Wrote in his log in indelible ink
Today I commend these lost souls unto thee my Lord
At this lat and this long did my doughty ship sink.
Thus ends my tale of those souls lost at sea
Not uncommon to those whose sea-legs are firm
For a tough life's their lot unlike the land lubbery
I've denied Davy Jone's Locker, I have served my full term.
~04 Jun 2016~
Wicked
Young minds
They delude innocence
Forever they act sovereign
Ameer
Childish
Their behavior
Often they clamor
Wail their emotions behemoth
Dour
Play
With gesture
Time befriend rejoice
Busied with oneirisms foretold
Pollyannaish
Cozened
Hatful alibis
Bebop their paroles
Disputes often looked battles
Liberty
Bored
By pages
Books limned cartoons
Brains mattered to creations
Jejune
Love
Yet teemed
Maneuvered by care
Parents seek for smile
Charismatic
------------x----------------
OKAY? WHAT FIEND STOLE THY BODY ELECTRIC!?
thine distorted reflection rippled
within rain maker's pool upon a midnight clear
full moonlight flooded shallow abyss,
cleaved fractal structures of silence
reverberating deathly hallow from 'ere
to infinity, whence magic wand
whipped out from whereabouts unknown
wove enchanting spell atop me shades
at more'n fifty gray hair
to fore, awakened from drunken stupor,
whence sober self
saw repulsive trouper fluid dynamic image jeer
at pot bellied, dead panned,
and ad libbed the mere
ore image lam bent, mutilated spindled
various aspects of myself a paired
which, aghast at such creepy distortion i didst rear
like a bucking bronco unclear
how this horrid, jagged, limned paragon did wear
a grotesque from heart of darkness – maybe Zaire
or Zulu-land, this soaked silhouette half bare
from the waist to head showed unmanly
sagging overly engorged breasts
plus right and left elephant sized ear
egad, THAT CANNOT BE ME,
yet upon performing self exam a glare
ring outburst ensued,
cuz thy once bronzed handsome physique
grist for a Joker to jeer
and fodder made for television series created,
directed, and executed by Norman Lear
which role might be temporary for Halloween, but near
lee every SINGLE day and night,
thy aged dusk fraught hominid jerked,
leaped, pooh poohed I ham ill prepared
to accept, roistering, rollicking,
rueing this Frankenstein scarred
complex deplorable edifice able,
ready, and willing to be tarred
rather than evince flabbiness,
gruesome homeliness, instance
Page Number Two:
when no objection would arise
to live out the remaining days of this life
as the world wide web turns, spins, rattles...
and voluntarily sign myself into a stew ward
with (at minimum ), a ghoulish, gnarly,
gummy self activated door
leading to a privet hedge row trimmed
topiary resplendent yard
cuz every cotton pickin, friggin,
fingerhut lickin portal iz barred
dated Friday the thirteenth with **** face on that card!
Non descript hedge rows sculpted into ornamental animal
via botanical artist wielding pruning shears and chain saw
carved, limned and sculpted with wrist wrought voila uber
prestidigitatiously head turning botanical picturesque Sun
kist animals at an exhibition transformed miraculously via
Te Deum divine fist bumping, whence realistic fauna burst
alive with an explosion of colorful twist and shout of foliage,
where scalloped superfluous detritus manna for naturalist
deciduous detritus capacious carpet boar animation punk
chew waiting groundswell Liszt ghost would arise from the
grave to produce magnum opus without a beat missed such
shrubbery mimicking the likeness sans glistening fleshy sin
yew, and gist about ready to become bone a fide (green be
hind the ears) thriving vox populist, per species and genus
wrought thrashing into birth as delicate craftsman promised
to imbue life, liberty and pursuit of happiness whittling away
leavings, thus did exist the nascent then omnipresent visible
entity emerging from cocoon an herbalist metamorphosed
from the imagination of a skilled, practiced and mentalist
conniver viz extracting the initially obscure blessed beast,
where with august magic wielding tools of this specialty vis
a vis bringing breathing manifest destiny ala Pinocchio (trans
formed from wood to flesh), whereby finest dexterous
chiseling blistering hands baffle onlookers as coterie of
topiary harvest breaths mind bogglingly astoundingly
authentic rooted ready to frolic in the grass menagerie
a gamesome group of linkedin live progeny, the Michel
Angelo of dirtiest canvass, an earthen tabula rasa of sorts
where application threshing re: electric cool laid ahs hid
test brings out chlorophyll doppelganger green hued key luster.
The forest crowds the small campsite
By dying fire’s meagre light
I listen for the furtive flight
Of Nature’s creatures of the night
As chirping crickets’ songs unite
The fearful in diurnal flight
Race through remains of day’s last light
From Nature’s creatures of the night
Soon eerie fireflies ignite
A spectral vision taking flight
Make clear their presence here in spite
Of Nature’s creatures of the night
And owls hid deep in trees recite
Relentless question to the night
But answerless remain despite
All Nature’s creatures of the night
In dark foreshortened without sight
But limned and measured by the quiet
My patience placidly invites
All Nature’s creatures of the night
As dawn resumes its daily rite
I do not revel in her light
For I have witnessed more than sight
Through Nature’s creatures of the night
Written 5/23/2018
Did you suppose it would be easy
Wearing well these mortal clothes?
Did you not fathom Father's words
When this realm you freely chose?
Now the world wills you to wonder
If the trials were duly disclosed.
No way to know before the flesh
Trials wouldn't be as you supposed.
Much is hidden from our earth eyes
But faith can fill the voids to brim.
No need to struggle in a muddle
Deciphering designs limned by Him.
Reflect rather on our elder Brother
Who didn't doubt, didn't suppose.
He perceived pain inexpressible
And still He chose, still He Chose.
She recall her day when she sat by the window
And saw the defiled sky to brace up on with spiritual phantasm
Of some demonic begrudges – amassing and making
The flushing spirit of the late evening merriments and bichrome realism.
She beshrewed the iniquity rushing by, but it pelted upon
It bastardized her against the immorality of the nature
And she held up with no parole and desires…
She felt herself interred to the nature that despair.
The inquity that brigthened with thunderclaps and silver storm
She averted her fear and assailed against this rage
Acquainted herself with the nature she forefended
Pounded for few moments and synced with the lifelike stage.
She clapped, she laughed, she fantasied with the zesty consequence
She danced, she danced with the drops falling from the sky,
She sung her own rhythm catching her steps divine
The music prolonged as the clouds lightened and twittery lyrics whistled thereby.
Enduring the theme, she limned in her imagination
A life she yearned-for, A life she was not expecting
She painted in her heart an amorist she was looking for
Holding his hand she balled on the miry stage with pavan relieving.
The lust she felt over her drizzly body
Closed her eyes as she felt the touch of his lips on her belly
He took hold of her waist and she accured the fanciful time with reverence
She dangled holding the dampen trunk of a tree, and embraced her amorist
temptingly.
The flushing spirit that bestowed with mightiness and relief
She glittered with love, spirit, esteem and belief
All of a sudden she roused from her phantasies
Withal the monsoon girl lived her day, ceasing all her grief.
Straight-lined radiance
spiraling gravity's view
Gravity pulls
in search of gratitude,
requited.
Radiance flies toward Exterior Light,
Gravity dances with Interior Night,
A flight of fancy dance.
Radiant birth reaches tender tendrils
toward touch of bright.
Rich embedded birth searches below
with slender stealth
toward Other,
where We become more than One.
Born again in perpetual orgasmic grasp
And release of creolizing nutrients,
sustainable capital,
sensational value,
sacred meaning,
secular learning,
sublime creating
informed ex-forming
immigrating emigrants.
Looking back,
Interior Landscape recalls gravity's reverse,
spiraling toward future flower,
new eyes and ears
raining seeds of actively resilient hope
for Exterior Landscape's ReGenesis.
Seeds spiral down
darkly,
richly rhyming
Earth's PermaCultured Story.
Sublime Spring's buds
Ergodically bloom
Facing blind bliss by Summer's day,
warm wet caress by night
toward falling gratitude
Species' seed prediction:
a wintry night of purgation,
while love unites
depression
oppression
suppression
repressing
what positive impressions
Earth has already harvested
for spiral-limned radiance of Spring.
Straight-lined radiance,
spiraling gravity's view.
Gravity draws
a resonant song of gratitude,
radiantly
resiliently requited.