Best Picture Poems
When midnight flames flicker aesthetic reveries,
releasing ashes of rainbow petals,
upon the canvas of undressed seasons,
I delve into blue blurs of butterflies,
framed in floating colors of nostalgia,
aching for dried dyes to home this scraped heart~
hanging loose, within smoky imagery,
as if every pigment will sprout from lilies of longing.
But can memories thaw frozen zeal,
illustrating steamy sunsets with liquefied rubies,
to unveil a timeless era, retouched and restored,
from the dust of dusks composed in surrealism?
And I, the splattering of an ink-blot,
persist as a dramatized kiss of tongue-stroked silence,
like a portrait, isolated in artistic utopia,
as love is more than a metaphor that speaks to the moon;
a pastel palette textured with melted roses~
saturated stars can interpret…
That last day leaving summer camp,
didn't know she would be there too.
My protector, my ghost..
I expect each of us as kids dreamed,
yet scared to define the two.
Watched as she drove away, life lost a little of its taste
so far out of my league, yet always wondered,
what another life could've replaced.
Don't invest in secrets of yesterday,
and certainly not tomorrow.
Put all your coin on this today..
that which all old men
seek to borrow.
Carry your heart for all to respect,
live long all precious days.
Don't trust your soul to intellect,
for it'll abandon you..
just when you trusted it
to stay.
There's genius in a child's clutch,
and love in life's brocade.
Without it most don't hold to much,
and see all wither that they made.
Don't know if the past matters much,
to me remains ever just the same.
When two lives shared all in touch,
and one just a picture in a frame.
Pull out the easel
set the canvas
positioned long and slender clean slate.
Sketch the figures huddled and dark-bound hostage
to charcoal-cooled coals
etching in shadow images;
Faceless entities
slipping in and out the background
earth-toned sojourners accepting, alone, quiet, dying;
Still the images in silence
hard and disfigured
grotesque horrors in place;
Somber soul-drained eyes
skeletal socket holes
buried in the heart and mind;
Let tears fall down their cheeks
in wonder, awe, and
fear of what happens next.
Acrylic primers dilute the wash in the storyline
flaking and cracking
tearing each soul and truth away;
Polyptych blended burnish bleeds
quiet, soft exuding
whimpered cries, asking why;
Chiaroscuro collages of death from life
fading to diluent breaths
the heartbeat of an unholy silence;
Graded gouache monochrome scraper boards
releasing sfumatos of singularities
communal lives sacrificed
Varnish the final rendition
camouflage the realities,
the actuality of what it represents,
Time immemorial in genocidal atrocities
of Native Americans, Cambodians, Hawaiians,
Jews, Rwandans, Bosnia, Darfur,.
When does it stop?
The never-ending list
life is more precious than this
until change comes
Paint the Picture Black and Gray
pray
then act.
Barking at the people who
walk behind our house
is a dog that as a pup
was bought by my spouse.
Tiny border collie mix
he was meant to be,
but a Texas cow dog is
what most people see!
Chocolate-caramel, nutty too,
so it seems just right
he’s named for a candy bar;
just don’t take a bite!
Word Count shows 62 but different at another one. I count 60.
May 23, 2017 for Laura Loo's ONE of FIVE-70 words or less Poetry Contest
In 7/5 Trochee form. Topic #4: Your Pet
I tried to paint a picture, Dear, of you,
But there was no right color that would do.
There is no blue that ever could display
The tranquilness with which you face each day.
I think no shade of red I’ll ever find
To match the utter passion of your mind.
Among sweet sunny yellow’s many hues,
I cannot find a one that I might use.
No color in this world can paint you whole.
And certainly I could not paint your soul.
The soul of you, so beautiful to me,
I know that it will shine eternally.
From inside out, my darling, how you glow.
Such happiness I’d never thought to know.
But never could I paint that brilliant light.
Nor can I paint your beauty in my sight.
If I could be Van Gogh, I think I might
Create a picture of a starry night.
And I would put inside it me and you
Enraptured ever in that sky’s dark blue.
Written April 1, 2014
All day the world has waited
for me to come and rest here,
to welcome me into a picture
it has composed with people
walking their dogs along
the water's edge and the wide,
seaweed strewn beach bathed
in the soft light of a setting sun.
‘See what I have prepared’
it seems to say, drawing my eye
to the distant clouds, the water
wearing a golden glaze
and creased by a gentle breeze,
birds overhead, the sand scored
in a joyous language written
by children's scampering feet.
I sit and take it in,
feast on the exquisite detail
that is layered and worked into
every inch of the scene.
Memory gives it a name as light
fades and I leave, re-entering
the dark that is waiting for me
just beyond the frame.
the old wooden bridge
spans the fetid stagnant pool
where my dreams decay
-------------------------------------
Contest: Picture Perfect Haiku #1
Sponsor: Skat A
Placed 1st
Dedicated to My Darling Little Sister, My Punky
I love looking at pictures of you.
I stroke your hair, touch your check –
I even pat your nose and slow grin.
Such sentimental heart peak
No better grin could seek.
I love looking at pictures of you.
My eyes glow looking into yours -
My fingers trace your sweet face.
Such tender sweetness flows.
It is a blessed love to know.
Looking, I feel its precious glow.
On your pictures, I love to dwell
For since you were but a morsel
I have been your softest sell.
I love looking at pictures of you,
My baby sister love pastel.
A Picture Of Oneself contains not too much to tell,
Except the package showing that in which they dwell.
This is the only purpose a picture has and does,
Telling nothing about the person who is or was.
A Picture Of Oneself shows nothing that's inside.
Who is the real character that within does reside?
Are they a soul with compassion, full of empathy
Or are they all about themselves with only apathy?
How much do they care? How much do they Love?
Are they ego driven with pride derived of?
What character traits does the picture of possess,
One of integrity, virtue, along with humbleness?
Do they seek and tell the truth or do they lie?
Do they have a code of ethics they only live by?
What do they aspire for in life and/or hope to gain?
Do they care how or if it's by causing others pain?
What are they feeling, happy with joy in their heart
Or are they battling pain in their deepest, inner part?
What have they been through; what have they endured?
Have they overcome with an outlook, healthy and secured?
All the aspects of a person are left unaddressed
In a Picture Of Oneself, the real is oppressed.
The packaging is glorified, says nothing of its host;
Though appearance is deceptive, it tends to matter most.
Technology would surpass itself and be truly smart,
If there was a camera that could capture one's heart.
All the devious hearts wouldn't have invisibility
And all the hearts of beauty would shine then brilliantly.
A Picture Of Oneself may preserve one's appearance;
May be used to con others and to run interference.
But a Picture Of Oneself, nothing does it tell.
It's just a package picture, a picture of one's shell.
Written by Artsieladie/Sharon Donnelly
©2018-04-13 08:55:00 (EDT) All rights reserved.
Taken this worn path ,he'd
taken so many times before
To his one and only true love,
he will always adore
His destination marked Riekers,
sprinkled with fresh snow
After five years even if blind,
he'd know where to go
Looking at the marble stone,
her flowers still in his hand
Made his chest ache with
a heaviness, he couldn't stand
His eyes teared up,then the
tears streamed down his face
This is where his demons lived,
this was the place
Today was not for them, he had
something to say
"Baby I'm back again!
Do you remember what's today?"
"It's when you gave to me a gift,
one the greatest of all!"
"Also when you left me,
after telling me to stand tall"
"Leaving me but not alone,
you left with me one other life!"
"Our baby girl turned five today!
But still I crave my wife!"
"Each day that passes,
she reminds me more of you!"
"Her eyes and hair, down to her
dimpled smile too!"
"I want to thank you for all the joy you
you brought me!"
"Plus our baby girl, I still bounce
upon my knee!"
He thought it would get easier,
through the many years
He placed her flowers down,
unable to hold back the tears
"Goodnight my love! I'll be back,
but now I must go!"
A cold wind seemed to kiss his cheek,
as it began to blow
It felt as if she caressed his face,
to say "I Love You"
Smiling still in tears,
he whispered
"Forever I Do Too!"
1st place
STRAND SPECIAL 9,any form ,any theme'
Sponsor: Brian Strand
Picture your world in coulourfull strokes
With Care and Abandon
Of a life worth living
Devoid of Wealth
and immune to Goverment Stealth
(Gentle Summer Rain)
Listen to:
light pouring silver gray
enriched thoughts fall from the sky
complete path towards-
Blissful, Delighting Peace
small ceremonial rain dance.
------------
Gentle therapeutic rain
on a warm summer day.
falls of heaven on my skin
lovely healing memory
smiling tears
embracing promise land
means of escaping
utopia in a cloud
Solace-
light mist paints the Earth
"Drizzling summer rays."
Swimming in sunshine, rain.
by:??
lifting up your face
smiling in the bright sunshine
beautiful pansy
06~17~15
Paint me my teacher
A picture of my future
Tell me at this juncture
About My future
I will listen with rapture
You my teacher
Show me every feature
Of my future.
spread me my teacher
the wings to my future
Make me learn
what my efforts will return
Hold my hand
Guide me and
let me walk the path
My life is worth.
Show me my teacher
what is stored in my future
show me the beauty
of my future duty
Then I will paint
a picture with no stain
A future perfect picture.
show me my teacher
the colors to paint my future
I will paint a doctor picture
Or paint a lawyer picture
I will paint my perfect future picture
with the colors from you my teacher
Help me paint my future
My respected teacher.
Twelve-year-old Cliff was moaning in his sleep.
Again--bad dreams of Bob the Bruiser who
lived right next door. Bob was a thug, a creep
who picked on smaller kids like Cliff and knew
on Monday mornings they’d have cash to steal,
lunch money for the week. He’d take it all.
Till after school, these kids would get no meal.
The Bruiser ate his fill and had a ball.
Bad Bob saved up a pile of loot and bought
a bike. He told his victims what he’d done.
He jeered, “You’ve got no proof. I won’t get caught.
Tormenting all you losers is such fun!”
One day the bike was lying in between
his yard and Cliff’s. The Bruiser wasn’t there.
Cliff was outside. A man he’d never seen
said, “Let me buy your bike. I’ll treat you fair!?
Cliff’s conscience stirred, but then he thought of how
he’d been abused and robbed. He said, OKAY!”
The stranger said, “Two hundred?” Cliff yelled, “WOW!
That’s just right, Sir.” This was Cliff’s lucky day.
Bob’s parents would deal wisely with their son
when neighbors told them just what he was like.
They’d see he made amends for all he’d done.
They’d NEVER know what happened to that bike.
January 12, 2018
entered in Eve Roper's There's a Brighter Side Contest (picture 1)