Best Mica Poems
A violent scene lay before me
Huddled in death, there’s Ella, Mary-belle, everywhere I could see
Swollen tongues, sunken eyes, frail bodies strewn in the hot powdery dirt,
I sniff the sharp stench of death, I catch my breath, swallow, stomach clenched, alert
Stark rocky outcrops, blister amongst the sharp needles of spinifex grass
Stones, sand and mica glints, ants scurry about their tasks
Red dirt, blue sky, sun bears down relentless upon the tin roof of the Station
Majestic hills, once coral reefs, the Chinamen pushed wheelbarrows up them, Dinosaurs, Indigenous people walked here long ago in my imagination
Soft bursts of purple feathery flowers of Mulla Mulla joyfully sway in the crisp air this morning, locked in the silent perennial embrace of that blue blue sky
Frivolous, dollies those desert girls, with their sweet smell and blush as I walk by
I think I’ll put a bullet in my head in that very spot
To die in such fine company, you make those tough choices on the land, easy as, why not
5,000 cattle dead, I’d cry, but there’s no more water in my eyes, in a blink, all gone so terribly wrong
I’ll sleep with my cows tonight, Ella, Mary-belle in the Mulla Mulla desert dreaming, on the land is where I was born and where I belong
The mica-flecked granite outcroppings loom,
releasing bits of themselves randomly
sparkling, as they fall, in felted-light they bloom.
Blasted cliffs, yet brazen, they rise without decree,
unconcerned with the maples, and the birch,
releasing bits of themselves randomly.
An ashen, sulking, sky hides the eagle's perch
and softens all the jagged edges of the scene
unconcerned with the maples, and the birch.
A collage of layers blends all color in between
each angle decomposing in the rain,
and softens all the jagged edges of the scene.
Within the fog the distant mountain's strain
bruised in shades of lavender and forest green,
each angle decomposing in the rain.
A watercolor tableau where, unforeseen,
the mica-flecked granite outcroppings loom,
bruised in shades of lavender and forest green
sparkling as they fall, in felted-light they bloom.
1/4/15
Somewhere in an old-growth forest,
a woman smoothly moves amidst
shadows of the pines and hardwoods.
Her mossy gown is verdant green,
her hair twinkles with mica and
her soul, deep as a midnight sky,
with remote star clusters beaming.
She tends the ruins of an ancient inn
and a bed of ferns and roses.
Many a nomad, passing through,
is revived by her grace and goodness.
Though we can't lay hands on her,
she wanders free within our grasp,
For the ancient inn beguiles us still
in the labyrinths of our minds.
The sky bathes the harbor in cyan turquoise
cadet-blue sea foam bubbles the only gorget one has
versus the flamingos and canaries absconding littoral mire
the gashes on my feet, the burn in my gracilis
have returned me yet again to
sanctum:
la vie en rose,
where
lips breathe lunarias into drift bottles
love songs the only tune in our ears,
lilac mica on denim morpho
is the heart in my chest,
and the color of your hair
when the sun decides
its inevitable rest
everything must come to an end,
but the feeling I get
when you scrunch your nose
and shake wisteria dust
off raven plumes
eclipsing spinel
opals
and if describing them is the one thing I can do,
then the paint in my mouth may go stale
fingertips now pruney, lazy, tired
vision indispensable falling pallid
the paper of my visage a
wrinkly,
sallow
pity
but the young wish of a besotted soul
to grow old with your puling orbs
granted
ink sinks the coral lens
your darling hands
have fixed over my head
but my legs are torn,
and my teeth broken
aching
for another laugh
rumbling through
your vibrating back
that my cheek is pressed into,
and I drown
willing
smile
wistful
hush
still.
The dragonflies danced in the crisp Maine air
on a draft from the ocean deep.
Their delicate wings teased the breeze
high up on Mount Battie’s Peak.
Blue-black they flew like the night time sky,
as the mica flecked granite shone,
Seeking nectar sweet from blueberries bushes
and their small white flowers’ cones.
The silvered sea was surreally framed by
a multitude of human eyes;
Dotted with miniature sailing boats
A scene full of wonder and sighs.
a leaf a twig a teensy bit of feather
She is Peter Pan floating toward Neverland
a sliver of mica in a rough stone
diamonds of a queen, dreaming of her king
a day in nature, a plethora of hope
a caw, a whistle, a peep, a robin
magical land of faeries, elves and brownies
dive bombing her imagination with joy
She is overcome with completeness
feeling herself more here than anywhere else
Starting from Chota Nagpur plateau,draining into Hooghly;
Its our Damodar river, 'rope around the belly'.
Another name of Lord Krishna,
Rich in mineral resources,abundant in coal,iron and steel,mica.
It is a river in North-eastern India,rising with many tributaries;
Flows generally eastward course for 592 kms.
Passes through Hazaribagh,Bokaro,Asansol,Raniganj,Durgapur,Bardhaman;
Is the 'Ruhr of India' , led to the development of large-scale mining and industrial activities.
During Monsoon,huge volumes of water flows down the Damodar,
Overflow its banks and flood large areas.
It was known as 'Sorrow of Bengal' ;
Because of its ravaging floods in the plains of West Bengal.
The floods were virtually an annual ritual since 1700 to 1943;
Some of them are recorded horribly in Bengal's history.
Several dams have been constructed in the valley,
For the generation of hydroelectric power, which gained much priority.
It is the first multipurpose river valley project of independent India;
Modeled on the Tennessee Valley Authority of United States of America.
Damodar Valley Corporation to develop flood control,irrigation,generation,and distribution;
Of electricity, eco-conservation and afforestation.
Dams built on Damodar are Tilaiya,Konar,Maithon and Panchet.
Durgapur barrage to feed extensive system of canals and distributaries.
Tenughat Dam is also a dam in the state of Jharkhand;
It is a tributary of Hooghly,a distributary of River Ganga.
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The mica-flecked granite outcroppings loom,
releasing bits of themselves randomly
sparkling as they fall in felted-light they bloom.
Blasted cliffs, yet brazen, they rise without decree,
unconcerned with the maples, and the birch,
releasing bits of themselves randomly.
An ashen, sulking, sky hides the eagle's perch,
and, softens all the jagged edges of the scene
unconcerned with the maples, and the birch,
a collage of layers blends all color in between,
each angle decomposing in the rain.
And, softens all the jagged edges of the scene.
Within the fog the distant mountains strain,
bruised in shades of lavender and forest green
each angle decomposing in the rain.
A watercolor tableau where, unforeseen,
the mica-flecked granite outcroppings loom,
bruised in shades of lavender and forest green
sparkling as they fall in felted-light they bloom.
First Appeared in The Autumn Sound 10/13
Rock forms reigning in the sea
Cast semiprecious imprints
As beach stones bathe and gleam.
Feldspar glitter glows gently
Over mica crystalline
As rock forms reign in the sea.
Pebbles play in the sea
Leave sand-filled footprints
As beach stones bathe and gleam.
Stones and bones wade free
Dancing cold-skinned past
Rock forms reigning in the sea.
Brownstone bodies lie in sleep
Then dawn swims in
As beach stones bathe and gleam.
Beach stones bathe and gleam
While day-star rays shine on
Rock forms reigning in the sea.
You are ever the tide that
tickles my toes,
leaving sandy sparkles in my
hair ... like mica,
You are the rhythm of days
that steals my tears ...
You are angry waves that wash
the film of sorrow clinging to my soul
far on out to sea
to mingle and rest among the easy
colours of we ...
You are my small box of tomorrows
wrapped in background music
of sea scents
and thoughts incomplete ...
You own my nakedness in dayshine
and moonlight, my soul
silhouetted next to yours,
blanketed in strands
of thinning illusion ...
You are evermore sun stars
in my peripheral,
tiptoeing crystals on breaking crests
that beg your name
‘til time runs out again ...
Deep in the piney woods
A call beckons across the branch
A call that isn't animal nor human
A call that makes your hair stand alert and skin prickly from fright!
The light of the full moon awakens the spirits and the calling from the piney woods.
If you doubt my story and risk your very life, then make sure you take a
weapon into the piney woods. Well, I believe the call is from the ghost of the moon
shiners that have lost their lives in the mica mines many years ago.
The mica was
big business one time until the mines went dry.
The deep holes were perfect cover for the moonshine stills until
the revenuers caught the culprits. A great gun battle raged until death.
Today the crumpled mica shimmer in the red clay is all that is left of the mines.
The local children like to scare
themselves with the
abandoned rock graveyard along the edge of the piney woods. If you look close at
the mound of rocks...it appears that there is a bony hand protruding from the grave
and pointing directly at you to leave. The ancient thick cedar trees seem to
guard the graves and whisper "Warning, Warning."
In 1969 there was another vilolent firey death on the road through the piney woods.
A man died inside a burning wrecked truck, screaming
"Don't let me burn to death" repeatedly until the bitter charred end.
When the moon is right the echo carries his screams across the hills.
A young man only age seventeen lost his life in a fatal car wreck on
the steep curved road. His life was taken so fast; he is said to walk
the hills searching for his sweet ride to
carry him on his journey, unaware of his eternal fate.
On a short walk along the shallow creek bank reveals an old rock formation covered
in moss now but built by a people of long ago. Maybe Indian or early settlers,
no one knows the architects but if you stand in a certain spot where the
ground is always wet with a reddish ooze. You can feel a cold icy finger
across your face and neck.
Is the call a young buck calling his bride in the after life; is the call an
evil doer fighting to avoid beelzebub's snare? The apparition can be seen
briefly if you desire look when the wind and moon are right. Waynesville
holler offers more
than beauty in the day but beware of the moon lit walks that
young lovers
brave or you
may be the next victim of the piney woods!
Exhaust filled alleyways cracked and torn
the wide green parks frail and worn
The factories spew out toxins day and night
winding through the air and blinding my sight
Paint me a picture of petals on flowers
as childhood mica and the glory was ours
14.05.2023
Anne-Lise Andresen
Copyright © All Rights Reserved
NEGLECTED BEAUTY
Beauty-mica granite sidewalks shining
Fontanka and Moika Canals like Venice boreal
Boats flopping, tourist cameras aligning
Gold-domed architecture monumental
Kazan cathedral needing facelift, declining
Notes :
(SPB = Saint Petersburg, Russia )
Almost all sidewalks in SPB are granite
There are many canals in SPB, and these two are more famous than others
Kazan is only one of several lovely cathedrals in SPB
Are we less superior to ourselves than realization?
Our temporary shell, our salt, our generation.
Our streamers flutter like snow in Antarctica.
longing and valid expansion, made of mica.
Striving to liberate us, it rips apart its body.
Once again, envisaging us embody.
Systole, diastole, adventure indiscriminately.
The wide open oozes a scent of love imminently.
Shimmering between each of the drumbeats.
Summer, you are the windlessness of such feats.
We ate, kissed, cuddled, and then supped food.
A day's total is a unit of measure for what you lewd.
Need and desire exist in an interdependent reality.
We bury our bodies as a sign of our mortality.
The fate of our remains while wearing the shell
The land utters us the title of a spare body smell.
Synapses are memories, and we are waiting.
In order to cross its boundary, there is no gating.
Written: August 09, 2022
Check out oheo pools
And the bamboo forest
Where the wind hums
Through the bamboo
Check out the water falls
That flow with mica stars
Check out koki beach
Where locals & other surf
Check out Haleakala crater
Which is10,000 feet straight up
Above cloud level & the view
Is breath taking
Say hi to my sister Aelana
N tell her I love n miss her