Best Miro Poems
you crawl the wicked shoreline
looking to begin
in sea-snail-soft surrender
curled on fours ~
courting the soprano’s sorcery
while skin of sky remains
chained to the esoteric externa
aching amidst love’s veins
caressing the curvaceous
corners ~ my clawed constant,
O perfect panacea
the pulse that throbs
in sync with
sage thunder ~
write to my soul
speak to the inner sibyl
tell my quiescent quill ~
I am right
you belong to the
deep prophetess poetry
of my heart tonight
reveal
the life-lane
receive
the addictive potion …
I know the tantalizing
terminology ~
the art of romanticizing rain
to tranquilize the fears
between petal-kohl clouds
turning vulnerability into
verses voluptuous
for I face the
heat of saffron stars
like a black dahlia
longing to be traced
without a word
to be learned as the
law of arced lines
I shall crown you king
in valleys of vibrance
where vines harmonize
my silhouette’s silence
igniting twilight limbs
pleading to obey
the river’s rhythm ~
fingers f l o w i n g
into warm interstellar field ~
trust, flagged and inked
like vertical vibratos …
A flower smiles
A tree shrugs off the golden bird.
Over the hill the red moon shines
And the blue sun is ashamed
To rise so late.
I seek to hold the nonsense
In my head and speak with
Tongues of liquid fire as
Time flows sideways back
From disaster to apocalypse.
And then I wake
and all
Is as it was.
Too soon to sleep again.
Kim Helen James
28/2/2020
I swap my eyes
for that of the bird
trying to see
things I should have heard
daybreak is cluttered
when I've lost all my sleep
important things pile
all up in a heap
but I'll trace a line
with the tip of my finger
find the place where your song
has the good grace to linger
I find it in tails
or in tales of mirth
exploring these notes
seems to help my self worth
the edges are sheared
sound becomes mute
these are the gaps
where I start to dispute
did I just listen
to beautiful sound
as all seems empty
when I look around
lines are traced
yet they all end
just a fingertip mapping
the missing voice of a friend
I listen, I look
I reach out with my hand
saddened your tune
can't return on demand
realisation occurs
with a bump and a start
I didn't call out
I just asked with my heart
no-one can hear me
as I silently pray
that I'll still hear your song
at the start of each day
I'll let all notes mingle
let rain fuse with sound
step outside to get drenched
and just lay on the ground
stare up to the sky
as stars stare back at me
it's my own voice at fault
I need not be lonely
if lines overlay
it's stars we're creating
I'm not all alone
the scrawls just needed translating
BEING JOAN MIRO
All the common fears and complaints of life
may be put to canvas
one need only tap the gift
Of looking into
of looking through
That imperceptible crowd of creative gravity
where might be found
Things no-things no-forms
afloat whirling or resting
In the unconscious mansions
Find the brush’s will not your own
Groups of many colors appear
Scattered or blended
Shapes of no earthly form
Infinite the possibilities
Put here-and-now aside
Let the brush have its will
Dave Austin
Barcelona's Jean Miro
a man not a woman you know
His art was so very surreal
many think it no big deal
her eyes on the moon
or a twirled moustache
upside-down questions
never before asked
violins play a solo
alongside quiet pain
that is spoken of only
within poetic refrain
thought bubbles bounce
collide with stars
a self never spoke of
disguised in rhyming memoirs
mazes and teeth in riddles unravelled
as the subconscious mind
becomes more well-travelled
layers of thought
covered with layers of feeling
all brought into the light
with a little free-wheeling
though dots may join up
there is no conclusion
for a poetess is always
part fantasy
part illusion
venn diagram discoveries
made without knowing
sharing of ideas
with the seeds they are sowing
exiting time when feeling off-kilter
to observe all askew -
a true angle tilter
we scribble in darkness
scribble in light
scribble for solace
and for our life
shock
in. abundance
transitory
& irregular
once
refashioned
in
random
diversity
of
erotic
existence
yet
deliberate
innocence
of heart
changing
shifting
perspecive
shading
reflective
impulsive
spots
&slahes
star
sphere
spires
&
broken lines
curiosity
in
chance
shapes
surface
a shock
of
suggestion
reflections
proliferate
in
spots
stains
washes
&stains
dots
daydream
to enrich
solitude
&
complete
conscious
casual
composition
heavy
decorative
cloth
double
woven
diversely
bedecked
hetro
genially
montaged
sack
clothed
hanging
loose
in
the
realm
of imagination
“I make no distinction between
painting and poetry”.
Joan Miro
…………..
See - my dreams break through
this white veil and emerge into form,
crawl across the canvass
in the unscripted language
of the inner mind.
I float in space tethered
to an umbilical line, become
a moon, a constellation of stars
and a menagerie of creatures
escaped from time.
I am nearing the point
of dissolution, becoming
either a part of the great sublime
or a phantom born out of
the absurdities of my own mind.
automatistic
from
the
sub- conscious
pictured
with
eyes
wide
shut
fingers
follow
random
gestures
within
jasmine
scent
a
calm look
disturbed
stem
transparent
rainbow
toward
spiral
in flame
unfolds
escapes
to adorn
monnlight
carried
by
perfumed
magic
toward night
to
bring. hope
deeply
rooted
dualistic c
in
complex
cyphers
senstive&bizarre
personality
characterised
active
& emphatic
mutually
related
in
phylogeneticsp
rooted
in
spontaneous
purity
n
sparse
transcendent
contriuictions
meticously
drawn
In
bizarre
parallels
coldly
situated
sans
the preconceived