Best Panoramas Poems
I want to swim in the golden rivers
of your heavenly haven,
wading through every swirl and twirl flowing in splendiferous streams.
Taste of your warmth courses down ruffles within my ribs,
pulsating your name in assonant motions.
In your moonlit eyes I’ve found the lost poem,
missing from my once hollow heart.
You are the metaphorical master,
with a plethora of poetic keys,
deciphering hieroglyphics syllables,
ceaselessly obscuring vehement vanity,
endured through violent torrents of torment.
In your arms I found a euphonious sanctuary,
calming stormy edges from a malignant abyss,
there I saw grey on silvery nights,
until you breathed poetry into my fingertips.
Words began to bloom amongst
deep ruby wine dahlias,
where seasons never wilt internal imagination.
I still remember the night we embraced a new year,
as fireworks lit up the highest mountains between us.
Revealing incandescent morning stars,
with your infectious smile,
I knew then, you were the acrylic home
I was sketching on sunflower panoramas.
In your voice I've already seen spring,
sowing seeds of hibiscus promises,
hydrating delicate dreams—
drifting with withering ferns and flowers,
imprinted from roots of fate,
ascending mauve memories to cloud nine,
where clipped feathers attain nirvana,
to love until the sun burns into ashes.
At the flower market
I found spice, holy water,
cobblestoned obsidian dreams,
but no flowers.
The blustery Tuscany day
showed me its underlying graffiti,
incantations of poetica esoterica,
and yet another way
to excavate the mystery.
Nostalgic Roman nights,
Spanish palabras, Sicilian incantations,
idyllic panoramas; promises
enough to purchase the moon.
Such a foolish sacrifice to
fresco up for portfolios in
sanctuaries precious
and profane.
dialog with myself invariably involves others
we are all perceivers nobody escapes
no really and truly trust me on this
no manufacturing of childish evasions
maybe it is best to be born into a family
with family values
ablaze with comfort and sanitation
lost in a forest of memories
amusingly arrayed for shoppers
exactly like the TV version
fortunately I was in touch
with my inner juvenile delinquent
unlettered by any known normalcy
nor crazed by the expectation of gold
or even gold paint from a rattle can
our addiction to pleasure
is no Darwinian accident
we really do learn to act from movies
no really and truly trust me on this
our tune is a complicated little number
in several keys at once
upon your mother's pedestal is one
between cognition and reflex is another
in the keyhole universe
location location location
I may need an axe to free my thoughts
just so I can play dumb
when you know too much
you go for the guts
in a trail blazing effort to avoid
media suppression by the CIA
Clairvoyant Intelligence Agency
chronically in for interrogation
OK let's play who's more paranoid
if this poem is minus the above line
then it has been tampered with
754 million hand sewn Humpty Dumpty
nerve connections later
sutured like Frankenstein's test dummy
a bungee cord full of existential tension
I seem to be strapped to a microscope
plunging to new vistas and panoramas
recoil in horror from what you were
behavior can also be modified
by better info if you let it
how's that for mind warfare
pretty propaganda pretty pretty
for the young and the innocent
left screaming in a gas station toilet
wrapped in today's newspaper
comics section puzzle page
how long can the charade continue
when autonomous is still an illegal word
this is an audience participation piece
from the Federal Pencil Council
and for the terminally nostalgic
the night arched quietly above
From "Engine of Didactic Beauty" available on Amazon
Artist Portfolio: http://walteralter.byethost32.com/
Spear
by
delicate spear
(palely green) ---
Spring!
Panoramas
slightly fabulous...
surpassing
(always)
--- all ways ---
daydreams
beautifully.
Magical glittering tin soldiers joyfully marching across resurrections big sreen ~
Adorned anew within these sweeping sentient hues of silver humanity; tete-a-tete....
Created beyond the faciled imagination of a childs spectacular, swaddled dreams
Sitting inside panoramas pristine theatres, unblemished blockbuster seats!?
Hummingbirds hovering carefree aneath this gnostics laughing willows tree as
Porcelain dolls wearing sunflowers smile amid orisons breath of light ~
Aside, spirited zygote ballerinas pirouetting atop sanctities blue and white
Checkered picnics blanket embellished in all of their, emotive existential delights....
Presentiments adaptive stage being set upon this warm articulating Summers day
While as an acquainting whippoorwill begins their serenities exonerating ballad ~
Rapture; turning slowly this scented wax figurine between softened fingers
Gently to taste its pleasing fragrance; conceiving, scenics genteel globe?!
Tenderly tracing paragons once vagabond lips within, crayolas faithful colours of
A childs everlasting and majestical love, born, upon the throne of "Grace"....
****************************************************************
"Kings and Queens" ~
In ghostly skies a stellar glow
from erstwhile stars of long ago
that shone with splendor ere they died,
perchance were wished on starry-eyed,
still haunts in heavens’ spectral show.
We gaze with wonder from below,
amidst our scurries to and fro,
at panoramas mythified
in ghostly skies.
The winds of fame and fortune blow
with sound and fury fiercely, though
our life be ebbing like the tide;
for death o’er all shall yet preside,
unfathomed as the cosmic flow
in ghostly skies…
~ Harley White
* * * * * * * * *
Poetic inspiration ~ Article: Stellar ghosts reveal galactic origins…
Our sky is blanketed in a sea of stellar ghosts; all potential phantoms that have been dead for millions of years…
We are awash in the light from long dead stars, each contributing essential ingredients to the universe that are necessary for life. Credit: Hubble
Tranquility from your eyes, so golden
Panoramas in orange with violet clouds
Those magnificent dreams still unfolding
Secrets fill the skies with spirits aroused
While the mountains embrace the green valley
Your softness and sweetness evoke my thirst
You snuggled up in my arms with many
Thoughts that the love birds do verily perch
Mindfulness is wrapped in your kind nature
Lovable hugs that you give away free
Like a white flower blossom in nature
When your hands work at liberating me
In our center circle, we play our parts
We're seedlings gathering our sunny hearts
The Big Bang that changed the very face of the earth,
That to all forms of panoramas did give birth;
OM - the elemental sound of the universe,
Divinely, within mind and body does immerse;
Loudest Krakatoa volcanic eruption,
Softest chime of blossoming of buds with affection;
All these small and great sounds fill me with melodies,
Catharsis acts of life in times of tragedies...!
Buzzing of honey bees; roaring of the wild wind,
Threatening sounds of beast’s fury within designed;
Bubbling of water-falls, fountains, streams and rivers,
Hissing of tender leaf that in winter shivers;
Pitter-patter of rains that hit the cracked terrain,
Dried trunks of trees of hot forests, burning in chain;
Each evokes harmonious assonance within,
Fun, frolic, thrills and chills rhythmically spin...!
Barking of my dog outside; mewing of my cat;
Braying of the washer-man's donkey; with voice flat;
Mooing of a crow and chuckling of cock and hen,
Silent sound of ink that leaks from a poet's pen;
Banging of wooden door; squeaking the hot hair-dryer;
Tyre-Hum and bomb-like sound of truck's burst-Tyre;
Tick-tock of a clock; dynamite-exploded rock,
What sound of earth my soul's shrine doesn't gently knock...?
16 August 2022
Drumming from the amps, bristling with snares and hooks,
(“I see in your eyes, castles in Spain.”);
Aide memoirs of the past, post-war resurrection, stubbornly,
Wreathed in wires of smoke and delineated by baselines,
(“I see in your eyes, castles in Spain.”);
In the imaginary glare, scrubland plains play host,
The homeland of bleached white sonic structures,
Aspiring to touch the scorched stonewashed sky,
(“I see in your eyes, castles in Spain.”);
Ravaging the cold corpses of pastoral dictators,
Burying them in gritty sand, interring with their
Emotional fascism for companionship on the final
Journey into the heartlands of the dead conquistador,
(“I see in your eyes, castles in Spain.”);
In that hopeless kill zone of love and promises,
That vain and empty body of soulless night,
That reflective insult of scorn and terrible beauty,
Replications of dreams laid bare, films on her iris,
Panoramas populated by citadels of waste,
(“I see in your eyes, castles in Spain.”)
(“I see in your eyes…castles… in… Spain!”).
But what can I do?
In the obscure, a search
Adventure and venture
Changing panoramas lure
In nowhere, the everywhere
In strange, the familiar
In distant, the close
In sour, the sweet
Throbbing pain, a thirst
In union, peace.
Everywhere, the nowhere
In familiar, the stranger
In close, the distance
In sweet, bitterness
Thirst in poignant pain
Restlessness, in separation
Changing panoramas lure
In the obscure to search
Adventure and venture
Once more……
5/08/17
We are finite creations in an ever-expanding universe,
Kissed by the calcified stardust of epochs gone by.
Seized by trepidation and insecurities that stagger our growth,
Engrossed by a yearning to fit into societals manufactured boxes
Which consume creativity and individuality.
Incapacitated by force-fed paranoia,
Tormenting our artificially pristine panoramas with mangled wraiths —
Regurgitated pleasantries scribbled upon mass-produced pulp,
Courage stamped out by mass hysteria.
Revolving chains shackle dying hearts turning to stone;
Humanity hardens while heaven becomes further out of reach.
For every action has, even if unintentional, consequences.
We have silenced our own tongues,
Watched in desensitised horror as the world burns,
And now we stand frozen
As the earth cleanses itself of our parasitic invasion.
Written: March 1st, 2025, For Brian Strand Contest
*******************
In the heart of
a howling waterfront,
where waves weave whispers
to the waning night,
I wander through the wilderness,
seeking sequins of solace.
At the water edge,
moonlight swirls as a monsoon,
creating a serenade of ~
shimmering silver
and sultry shadows;
feelings fluctuate
and flicker as fetching foam
reflects the sea rigid rhythm. . .
I find fortitude in a fierce fire;
each wave of wind serves
as a reminder of resilience,
and nature pandemonium portrays
my inner strain but also
bestows tremendous tranquility. . .
The sun shatters shadows,
shimmering shafts slicing
through the gloom,
illuminating intricate itineraries
previously plagued by perplexity.
Majestic mountains maintain
their mighty magnanimity,
guardians of glorious tranquility,
while rivers relentlessly reshape
their routes with perpetual persistence.
Flourishing flowers thrive
in a silent saga of survival,
each petal a page
in nature narrative of renewal.
After the showers,
the sweet scent of soil
saturates my senses,
a signal that splendor survives
even in the shadow of despair. . .
Birds bestow blissful melodies
to the troubled soul,
their songs mingling
with moments of mirth
and mellowing.
In their soaring flight,
I spot splendid freedom—
a promise of panoramas
yet to be explored,
a sky splashed
with shimmering aspirations
that are beyond grasp
but not unattainable.
In forested embraces
where flickering shadows
flit and frolic with light,
green leaves gently gossip
of glorious growth;
every fallen fragment
serves a purpose as it
feeds raw life below. . .
Deeply anchored roots
hold me steadfastly,
despite the turbulent winds of life.
Silence sings serenely;
in stillness, subtle truths emerge.
The tug-of-war between
twilight and tenebrosity
teach moderation.
The highlights conceal harmony—
we embody both
boldness and fragility.
So gentle do thoughts fall on waiting pages,
those muses often long lost by poets in time.
Rich words that roll along past ancient sages -
making vivid, soulful meter in rhyme.
Sharing expansive and open, lush vistas;
always imagined by our inner eye.
Searching inward that will inspire wishes -
seeking images that logic will defy.
Panoramas sewn in the hearts of us,
deep in a person's primal, earthly mind.
Driven to go to dreamy settings thus -
exploring skyward for a gem to find.
Creative spell under your vision's deep gaze,
truly nature's wonders continue to amaze.
Dressed in white clouds,
And the night in satin,
She runs warm fingers through my hair,
And we travel along as if no one is there.
The music pours down from heaven
I am a desperate clown and I dance and I cry
And I fly from the strings in your arms like a puppet,
And I am waiting for everything to happen.
The great mistake we make is we take love for granted,
And we close shut our eyes and strike imbalance,
As the snow falls for long and it stirs us,
So I say goodnight for the night to hear us.
A copper coin in a tray for your delight,
A cello a sparrow a dog and the sea,
And the sadness in my eyes as the stars they shine,
And what I want will be close to my heart and be mine.
I say goodnight to the moon, goodbye England,
Bongiorno Italia, it’s a trip we should take,
And in my hand I hold a ticket,
And make my future with the light steps of a cricket.
I have a voice that’s achingly serene,
A nervous breakdown and a broken arm,
I have everything under the sun, I belong,
And with the next beat I’ll be even more strong.
It’s not what you say but what you do,
And the vistas and panoramas of life
extend way up to the heavens
I am hanging from a tree, they bring me food,
And it’s now time to improve,
For I am close and I am tight to the endless,
And whatever you try you can’t bend me.
If at times I can hide from the crowds,
If I am a juror with panache and buoyancy,
If I can climb up 10,000 stairs and still breath,
I can take 10,000 stairs and be on destruction’s eve.
Personally I take an issue, but I suffer sometimes,
And if the night is young then I fight,
And if you flirt with me I ignite,
For what is a story without an ending,
And then love is only understanding.
Giovanni Antonio Canal
of the famed waterway mall
Canaletto,Venice born&bred
panoramas thereof enhanced his 'street cred'