Best Movements Poems
written on time’s page
with finite syllables of dust
he spelled my heritage
from earth to sky
along an umbilical line of faith
we fluttered from the lips of fingers
fully form for purpose
written on an invisible calculus
that bring monarchs where birth mark lingers
and salmons somersaulting sluice and streams
turtles, penguins, and herons white wings
netted in design with nested tabula rasa mind
I have an argument
against the beginning begotten from a bang
before atom or element
I have an argument against force and natural laws
at work without mass or embodiment
for embryonic gravity or forces weak or strong
I have an argument
that the singularity could not become more than fragment
of energy again if a single atom explode
its forces flocking away from fusion
for energy fission to explode
a theory
flimsy as spiders web
dethroning my majesty gulped
in primeval slime unlinked history from love
minimizing the particular time of our becoming on ships
that met the stagnant eyes of swampy thoughts … shuddering
in vain
the whip cracks louder than pain -
and on our black blistered backs … crumbling
soils in desertification threw some syllables skywards for mercy
starvation winds with sickle clouds of rain
they lie again ... leaving us without inheritance
for all our labors, lost, and grievance
what bang can buck the strain
and bring us broken souls to glory again?
Categories:
movements, history, philosophy, political
Form:
Free verse
With such feminine flamboyancy
this maiden sways in breathtaking movements
flashing, flitting, flaming a sweet minuet--
beneath a mural of moonlight’s alchemy,
her flared gown fair as sequined feathers
that midway, in birdsong's sultry melody,
her flight of fancy floats on my garden- floor
and like a magical sylph in tints of magenta,
she mingles with blooms on lawn's mainstage—
oh this femme fatale; a Mayflower,
mantling the pageant of summer's first festival!
For Brian Strand : Alliteration Contest
Categories:
movements, flower, magic, summer,
Form:
Alliteration
When evening’s bass tone whips a refrain
Strummed by an old man in our country yard;
A most haunting string--movement dims the air
Reminiscent of my young, bygone days.
His fiddle plucks through my hidden places
Where the touch wails speak through acoustic waves
Dragging notes from torn memories’ past
While first love grates … as I think of blackbirds.
Brian's Choice 7 for Brian Strand
Categories:
movements, music, nostalgia,
Form:
Verse
Movements of a Distant Sun
Far out in the cosmos
A cloud of gas
has become a sun
On earth we watch its movements
From our small planet
We consider the distant star
Have civilizations grown up there?
Have other voices lifted their voices in song?
Light - years separate us
From that distant system
What can we know of them?
Travelers on another sphere
What can we know of them?
And what do they know of us?
Are they peering out at our world
through the immense darkness?
What do they think of our creations?
Are they indifferent to them?
Are they content to be observed
and never casting an eye
upon our precarious home?
Categories:
movements, science fiction, planet,
Form:
Ballade
I
The winds were loudly whistling,
Blowing the trees’ leaves all around;
God sneezed and misty rain fell to the ground;
In an instant, blades of green grass began to glisten.
II
The lightening choreographed its self
Throughout the air;
In the far distance, the loud thunder
Was heard clashing;
The heavily burdened clouds had taken in
All they could bare…
Suddenly, giant balls of pelting hail began
Their icy trashing…
III
Curious about the rain caused strife,
The sun peeped to investigate;
Unaware—the Devil was beating his wife,
The sun’s concern was a bit too late.
IV
It’s known, rain is no friend to the desert’s growth;
And that floods care less where they might spread.
Such strange fellows are the both;
Happily sharing the same old bed…
Categories:
movements, imagery, nature, poetry, rain,
Form:
Quintain (English)
As his rider gives the judge a glance,
He tosses his mane and shifts his stance;
The winner he is, without a doubt,
He trots in place and then moves out;
Not quite believing what I saw,
I watched in silence, struck in awe;
Almost as if he wants to tease;
He crosses over with seaming ease,
His perfect cadence and fluid prance;
I sat in wonder as I watched him dance.
~Write A Backwards Poem Contest~
Categories:
movements, animals, cowboy-western, introspection, nature,
Form:
Couplet
black reality…
maimed and killed on video:
daily news tv.
injustice must go---
what’s seen is no enactment;
it’s real as was meant.
all of this crap stop.
our lives are in jeopardy;
by hands of rogue cops.
no justice, no peace---
empty chants easily ignored;
when will the breach cease?
attempt self-defense,
and we’re a violent threat:
blacks with no damn sense.
next season will be:
keeping up with the new blacks---
hook on being free.
remember the dead---
no sequel will be for them:
they are really dead.
yes, we are alive---
fighting to the very end:
that our heirs survive!
let’s keep faith on set---
her flame must never go out;
she’s never failed yet!
faith---the horizon---
waits upon the rising sun
justice has been won!
Categories:
movements, black african american, freedom,
Form:
Haiku
privileged clouds catch breath...
meadowlark’s song bridges gulf...
rain's tympanic leaves
Brian Johnston
November 11, 2015
Categories:
movements, beauty, nature,
Form:
Haiku
Hurricane Haiku: 5 Movements
The sea is angry;
The winds echo her screaming—
The hurricane comes…
Torrential waves
Carry furry to the shores:
Fragility doomed…
Island paradise,
Poised and ready for combat;
Nature’s sad beauty…
Nature lashing out—
An unwanted canvassing
Of hurricane grief:-
The calm sea rippling...
Lifeless bodies floating death:
The storm moves onward.
Categories:
movements, anxiety, death, grief, hyperbole,
Form:
Haiku
Somewhere upon the terminator’s birth
The young lovers dance and sway
To a symphony of dawn and starlight
Undulating within newfound passions
These two naively press and discover
The zealous meaning of temperate youth
Lost within the mornings heavy rise
They run through the soft breaking crests
Crashing upon their rococo painted beaches
Living only in the ardor of today’s breath
They pay no heed to the passing of the hour
Twisted adrift the spinning of the moment
Beneath the sweated midday heat
The aging lovers croon forlornly
Calling out to their passing adolescence
With a softening of fear in each other’s eyes
They gently slip back into the hypnotic
And dance in the divine for a moment longer
Standing in the approaching twilight
The aged lovers stand in raptures kiss
Remembering the moments of yesterdays past
No longer young but still ever vibrant
They languidly begin those heavy laboring steps
Of their life’s final dance together…
Categories:
movements, hope, husband, inspirational, love,
Form:
Free verse
Movements arise, much to our surprise, protesting against autocracy.
We interpret the fight, as being just, and right, and favoring democracy.
But what if we’re wrong, and it’s just a swan song, to disguise something more fundamental?
We’ll have to rethink, or swim and then sink, ‘cuz it could end up somewhat detrimental.
Categories:
movements, introspection, visionary,
Form:
Chastushka
Music moves me.
I know it's supposed to.
Some irritates me
I know it's supposed to.
Not being able to read it
Or write it
Has not stopped me from judging it
I know I'm supposed to
My paintings have been displayed
To move people
Some probably irritate people
They are not supposed to
I enjoy listening to blues
Cannot write them
Without being sad
Cannot be sad listening to them
Some classic (what's the plural of opus?)
Make tears form as I listen
Others keep me content
Once in a while skat slips in
To give me a bonus
Music moves me.
I guess it's supposed to.
Categories:
movements, artme, write, me, write,
Form:
Bio
Had I the movements of the inward crane,
That darts in rhythm between the lunar tangle:
My patience would go amiss
For such ascension bound to the solar rays.
And the earthly shores
That utter contempt and fold back the might
Would hear the quiet, sweet inhale
Before they crumble away at the song of the flight.
I will rest myself by the ocean
And know the lulled lapping of water,
That is ever present in my ear;
Comes from the force of two majestic wings spreading breath.
Or the leaves that sway about my feet,
Are the feathers that come blissfully to greet.
Shined energy, vivid, radiant sky
Let your embrace bring forward this light.
For we still stilt as pained as statues
When you are yet to extend your arms
And soar above this stage
Into the ethereal sight.
Categories:
movements, angel, beautiful, care, dedication,
Form:
Peace Movements
A mentor of mine once tasked me
to do three things each day
for others….and not get found out.
Being a slightly egocentric,
self – centered….DO WHAT!!!
kinda guy -- I questioned…..
to myself……is he crazy?
Yet he was the mentor
I the recalcitrant student
so I attempted this task.
How difficult could it be?
I stopped to let a lady cross the street,
mumbled under my breath
for she never acknowledged
my obvious good will.
Picked up some blowing trash,
was immediately filled with
a sense of superiority over the tossers.
I chided my mentor as to the task
questioning the efficacy of the
dubious and desired results.
His response was “Yodian”
“when your hands work silently
you will hear the thanks of the universe.”
It was then I realized – “He was crazy”
and I – equally so for I understood….
“Peace is in the ripples of our actions”.
10/23/2015
submitted to – Promote peace not war – Poetry Contest
sponsor – Silent One
Categories:
movements, peace, war, universe,
Form:
Free verse
Bees in jumpsuits cannot really fly but caterpillar boats can go very very fast down the canals. It is an oversized cake that bungee jumps for the longest period of time at the sponge competitions where the cream of trophies is to be won. And apple tartlets swinging from apparatuses create very spectacular shows. Facing a fork the flapjack frowns in concentration then climbs over in fine valiant fashion to the applause from the seated rows of oats, currants and raisins. The commentator couch was stood awestruck at the awesome acrobatic skills of the cup cakes as they sailed around on the trapezes a million foot over the stadium. Much to the delight the movements of the mixed rice performed exceedingly superb synchronized swimming routines and the tiny clown fish in a bowler hat and microphone commentated on their show. But a show is not a shoulder, nor a shadow, and nor is it a shouting shawl. Classy charming cute creatures create calm cities. And the dog and cat fish swim around in the buckets of the back gardens. Clapping. Hahaha tubular tabs tagging toast towels. Hahaha voluptuous volumetric violet vessels. Xxxx anthropomorphic Z Z Z Z at six tiles and forty three papers of a waterfall flush in a muddy seasonal view. !z!.
Categories:
movements, animal, , cute,
Form: