Best Modelled Poems
Wake up a little earlier; another troubled night
But the remnants of pre-birthday make-up still do their job remarkably
Smile for the camera; these pictures are keepers, so realistically modelled for
Thank yous for unthoughtful offerings; why hurt feelings after all?
A dozen friends all come along; it's not their scene but they want to please me
Can't look over there, have to be the last to go through the door
They're trying so hard, all their love gathering on my windowsill
Some cards handmade with heartfelt affection, gifts so vague and cliched, more
roses than I could care for
And your dusty eyes still staring through them all from behind the frame
Complete the scene as my headstone
Couldn't have slept at all
Excitedly imagining what you were planning
Warm in your jacket you gave me to sleep in
Wouldn't lift or lower my foolish head
Jitters looking forward to you
Flash could've gone off but we wouldn't notice
Shroud me with your words, promises you could not keep
All the guests combined; a less than you companion
I wonder why we couldn't make it through?
And I'd never had to say goodbye 'til the day that I met you
All that I'd got for we pushed them all out
And I didn't miss them.
Didn't miss them.
Why are you still asking after me?
How do you still reach into my eyes
Before I turn away?
What happened to let us get like this and tell me
When can it end?
How is it I want it to stay?
Though there's a soft spot for you in my heart and you're
Slowly seeping out
Frozen as this face remains
Breaking when I'm forced to recall
I'm 18 and you're not here
But she passed on your message for me
Happy Birthday.
And in those obligated words it all crashes back
I'll keep all our secrets and ignore all the rest
The world we made and left to decay
Keeps me smiling for every wasted day.
cut-out
a
simple
abstract shape
surfaces
as
the Blue nude
the
image
triggering
stark sensations
drawn patterns
pasted
pastiche
enssemblage
modelled
in
abstraction
curved
& sevelte
so blue
so blue
nude
naked
harmony
joy
&
calm
in stark
shaped
intensivity
Cosmological
destinies being modelled
us, predetermined
.
Thumbs Up To The Journey
At the footbridge as it bridges past from present future and perspectives your
feet might be-come and may be-go confused be-fuddled as can your mind before
the shadows rainbows feathered fancy pastel tunes and blues-bound colours
can memories anticipation taking-stock ooze pots and lots of lived experience
re-scribed re-told rewound projected narrated from emotive thoughts
stand still
At the bridge as it cradles the canyon with ladles and measures of the moment
where it spans what once was what you enrich in here and now not there and then the sweeping meadows fields of harvest schisms unions paradigms evaluations can treasures scary scars letting-go liberate scents and stents of living fragrance perceived untold configured touched upon stocked up condensed
reflected wait
The past is yet to come and not withstanding what bridge which side what size
and whence long gone remembrance spins and spans and slows and speeds the motion the sunrise dusk and dawning tapestry mosaic photographic lens sensations can truth reality attitudes and imperfections find soul and solace shared solitude re-modelled shaped anew confronted soothed harmonised
accentuated rise
The future has arrived and has been long projected and the past is living on
where they settle and sizzle on in ember’s glory and ashes to ashes and Phoenix in flight when horizons and boxes un-boxed wriggling worms preceding grave graves can joy pleasure senses and sexes passion peace human works of art in progress accepted invited challenged unchallenged channelled welcomed
gratitude prevail
At the foot-bridge at the mind-bridge where it bridges cradles sweeps your meaning brushes and jungles juggles and wonders which hand’s intuition which path to follow lie the answers to the questions asked lie the questions known and
not yet explored
24th July 2016
"Curly Sue" is pretty simple,
Romcom of nineteen ninty one.
Strangely recognized an impel
To rhyme her out to make her mine.
For those born in twenty something
Curly Sue does not ring a bell.
Said "You're curly Sue, sweet dumpling!"
To my niece. "Who's that?", she compeled.
As a child, when I was little.
Curly modelled as "super cute".
Decades past, she's just a tittle
In films ocean, that is brute.
Wonder why I still remember
Curly Sue? It's just silly, no?
For some reason have this ember
For Sue and want my niece to know.
MATTISE CUT-OUT an Ekphrasis
Colour combinations,yellows &blacks
of every hue,gouache paper,paint,
pins&glue.Cut-out patterns,pasted
pastiche,outlines enssemblage traced,
time after time.Out of the blue nudes
appear,modelled maquettes a last period
coda of the master’s career.
Inspired by Matisse Cut-out book Jazz
Listen to me recite this ekphrasis on youtube under my pen name ichthyschiro
The crust which formed 4 billion years ago,
Only came at the extinction of the molten,
And the microbial mat fossils keenly found
From 3.48bn years ago, came from graphite!
Over 99% of all known species are extinct,
Vital life is just a specification of yourself,
You will influence others for better or worse,
Life is ours and not god’s to mould or sculpt.
Those who are by you truly most inspired,
Will inevitably become strong, bit like you,
To supersede, to survive in another’s place,
Such that humankind is becoming better.
Speciation by niche events is very beautiful,
It codes life by behaviour and not by speech,
Inherited genes are based on action, deed,
Rather than on religious articulations devious.
Mass extinction is not normal, ending comes
To every species of any kind in every society:
Up to half of today’s plant and animal species,
Will be extinct by 2100 without question, doubt.
Death is ok, universal, and happens to us all,
It’s normal, and from it comes something good:
From death’s non-entity, speciation happens,
Which allows life’s structures to flow vibrantly.
Evolution does not exclude anyone, no one,
Not the week, not the disabled, not a starfish,
Every individual’s struggle and pride matter,
And the fit, moral, are modelled and mimicked.
Robotic
Silver tears fall from robot eyes;
The hole for a heart has broken wires.
The love we used to feel? I have removed those files.
Robotic people lead robotic lives.
Delete memories to give us more memory space;
The undistinguished face is factory made.
Modelled in clay; repeat again.
Another body, with another face; we are all the same.
Robotic people live robotic lives.
Work for the master for nickels and dimes.
Programmed to function, incapable of lying;
Programmed to self-destruct at the end of our time.
Watching people go by, living ordinary lives;
They are not the robot I see in the reflection
And they seem to be doing just fine.
Dreams of former lives never remembered in this mind;
I am robotic, but I pay it no mind.
Heartless and constant, I am becoming less than I should;
Infected files corrupt us from the inside,
When we were only trying to feel good.
Love is just data, magic does not exist; it is just a pretense.
The formula to the equation of my very own existence.
The failure of a maker who brought me into this world;
I am strong on the outside, but inside I am fetal.
Empty of emotion, now I have lived this life;
I see ordinary people living exotic lives,
But I am a robotic being and I cannot experience a true smile.
Nothing behind the eyes to show a real emotion;
I am just a robotic person; I am just in need of a function.
I am lost without romance in this web of confusion;
Robotic people lead robotic lives and I am living in slow motion.
(C)2016 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.
Villanelle: Hope not hope against the landing of the craft MH370
Hope not hope against the landing of the craft
The sky is deeper than the oceans of the earth
The last voice you heard does it come from the loft
What goes up must come down be it just on raft
The longer you wait the dimmer must grow faith
Hope not hope against the landing of the craft
Days stretch into nights till lights dim dark on raft
He who knocks from the other side knows true mirth
The last voice you heard does it come from the loft
Man’s meanness to man cannot be Maker’s graft
Two hundred thirty-nine ways show World the truth
Hope not hope against the landing of the craft
Million dashed hopes founder by scion in graft
Too many the mourned lives roving lone the earth
The last voice you heard does it come from the loft
Sixty years of a cover-up now erupt
In the face of those modelled by Master birth
Hope not hope against the landing of the craft
The last voice you heard does it come from the loft
© T. Wignesan – Paris, 2014
Dan's on the mezzanine
asking where the mayor lives
I'm on the dole line,
wondrin bout conservatives
The man with the leg cramps
boot camps wheel clamps
says they cut his food stamps.
Look out son,
he’s packin a gun:
God knows why
Pat Boone, full moon
someone's gonna die soon.
Del's on welfare,
Donald Trump is real pissed:
give 'em all health care?
What are we? Socialists?
Thinks I'm Harry Lime:
street crime, sub-prime,
now you're working part-time.
Look out boy,
you're only a goy:
don't revere teachers,
don't obey no preachers.
Jen's on Fox News
talkin bout the bank crash
wanna get some real views?
What about the trailer trash?
Read about Goldilocks
Botox bobbysocks
modelled by Amanda Knox.
Look out, Joe,
you're spoiling the show.
Don't watch features,
don't dance in the bleachers.
Get hired, get fired,
get rich, get stitched,
get tired, get wired,
get hitched, get ditched.
They got the cops at backstop,
Al Gore keeping score
'tween the Poors
and Dirt-Poors,
'tween the Haves
and Have-Mores.
John Wayne's vanished.
He's off to learn Spanish.
In the life of a child, stood two men and one died.
Charles was the biological father.
Shorty was the step-dad.
Rich in love this girl was.
However, there was one similar.
Carrie was her mother.
In her mother’s life stood two men.
Both are dead.
The fear has form.
The girl’s mother is now gone.
The similarity brings terror of a self-fulfilling prophesy.
When the world becomes dark, scary moments evolve.
Shorty broke his neck.
Charles did as well.
Jim had a hard time getting along with others.
And, Carter never was in the picture.
My mom and I resembled.
The spirits really modelled in a wall.
Scary moments have evolved.
~A True Story~
_____________________________|
Penned May 16, 2014!
A white dress full
of winter cherries;
hair curled with frost.
A carried box
tied with string
and legends.
Maybe a modelled
sister,or a ghost
from a playground.
You turn to
circumnavigate
in all this road
and wonder this is
as gone as a finger of snow
in April.
The sky is hasty
with a flock of clouds,
broody, hanging -
The next day empty,
just a shape without standing,
colder.
If i were an earthworm
I say that rhythmically
as if I were singing "rich man."
.
If I were an earthworm,
there would only be WHEN..
.
Life would be time
as light and dark would
come and go and my gut
would feed as if I had
a tube to my stomach.
.
Life would be
a tunnel of passing.
My muscles modelled in my nerves
would create my space.
.
How different would be
the confounding universe,
if I were born
not a man?
Andrea of Florence took his patron'name
as Verrocchio he later found fame
He loved fabrics & things in gold
his figures seem modelled& rather bold
Fittingly hallowed gods must intrinsic majesty hold.
Even before deities invoked weigh the caller's case,
The deity's potent title should alone spell the balm,
And tint with nourishing grace the supplicant's face.
Woe justly betides gods modelled by mortal skill,
Conjured to define the worshiper's creative spans.
True deity outdoes their adherent's most avid drill,
And defeats most faithful admirers' keenest scans.
If while engaged they varied ethereal trends display,
But when left alone they silent and unbothered stay;
You already got there a freaking raw deal indeed:
You're the mighty guy your own-made gods need!
The worshiped must by heart the worshiper know,
And both will ever commune as if by infallible law.
It’s the supreme being mightily seeking the follower,
Who grasps it well and submits to the bigger power.
It’s a fake god if it bends to suit whimsical desire,
Or at once plays into your infinite imaginative fire!