Best Perceived Poems

Life As Perceived Reality

We believe and think what beings we are;  
Juiced up ready to expel our seeds
to create new generations of replications.  
Each with different bumps and rinds divided within, 
but in the end, can we really tell one from the other?...

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Lo!  Behold the morning with such beauteous delight.
See diaphanous filaments bestrewn with beads of dew,
sparkling their display of every shade of prismatic hue,
exalting the spider’s art, woven throughout the night!

Lo!  See the wraiths of mist, slowly rising from the river bed,
whilst apparent rootless...

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I walk in the door, 
my dog is there to greet me 
furiously wagging his tail,
whilst sniffing around my shopping bags, 
He has that suspicious perplexed 
look on his face, 
One I’ve seen it many times before 

I know what he’s thinking, 
how the hell...

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A poem's a painting of a verse
whose artist never once rehearsed
the hues that he himself conceived
for print.

For poetry cannot be taught,
nor can the perfect poem be sought--
a poet's words are not produced,
but sent.

A poem's a planted evergreen,
the likes of which no one has seen,
whose leaves...

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Mystery discreetly disclosed.
Changing moods reveal details of shades
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Designed by nature with a clue,
Watchful minds eye, will break the venue.
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Blended aspiring deployment,
Thine story so brightly depicted....

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Lo!  Behold the morning with such beauteous delight.
See diaphanous filaments bestrewn with beads of dew,
sparkling their display of every shade of prismatic hue,
exalting the spider’s art, woven throughout the night!

Lo!  See the wraiths of mist, slowly rising from the river bed,
whilst apparent rootless...

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Let me sit down
and observe the rising
of the August' sun,
it's gorgeous to watch it 
unfolding and illuminating
the entire valley that was unlit!

I refuge into the awakening Earth
with an awareness not perceived by others,
afraid to be blinded by such a brightness...
and doing so, I won't witness...

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Perceived and Heard Regardless…
 (Or First Movement of Beethoven/Ray Charles Symphony)

The words echoed;
no sounds were made.

Exploding images
illumed the darken realm.

Pity the ears that can
but do not hear;

Pity the eyes that can
but do not see.

Precious is the echoed imagery
painted on the silent
vibrating canvas

Stretched across the 
womb...

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He has a gift little perceived – 
   A mind for temperament and thoughts. 
That he is one of privilege
   Is both natural and mysterious. 

Such witchcraft to them of fright
   Puts them to good reactions – 
Harmless to...

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This poem is inspired by Jeff Ripple's painting titled 'Stormy Weather'. You can find the link to the painting at the bottom of the page, and there is also an image of the painting uploaded with the poem. It is recommended you view the artwork...

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When there are no doors, all and sundry, 
like the wee willy nilly winds,
are welcome to come and go, as they please.
Blow-ins, blowouts, are free to enter or leave.
But feng shui would like missing doors 
to be not directly opposed,
or for something to lie on...

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A stone thrown upward 
hits someone who doesn't take 
offense or insult....

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I-n
V-iews
Y-ou

A-re
L-ooking,
E-yes
D-o
O-pen

©bfa050925
Monocrostic (Birthday of Ivy F. Aledo)
...

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Deluded by life over all.
Scratch and climbing at a wall.
Tomorrow, is thought to bring hope again.
Succumb, as today it seems never to end.
Trust shattered, left desolate, withdrawn again. 
Death beckons like an old friend....

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