Best Portraits Poems
The grandeur of a majestic mountain
standing proud against the horizon
with its snow-capped peak
enveloped in fleecy white clouds
against a clear azure blue sky
The glorious majesty of a stately sequoia
towering above the surrounding vegetation
being the largest living thing on earth
its massive trunk over thirty feet wide
with its gnarled rugged beauty
The wondrous artistry of the setting sun
edging the darkened clouds with silver linings
and painting the evening sky
in brilliant colours of the rainbow
mirrored on the ocean's surface below
The awesome power of a thunderstorm at night
with jagged bolts of lightning
that split the darkness
and light up the surroundings
with blinding dazzling intensity
The thunderous roar of a mighty waterfall
cascading down in huge torrents of liquid fury
smashing into the water below
creating mists of water droplets
that transform the sunlight into a rainbow
self portraits
color me in dandelion yellow
thumbing my nose at beauty’s pawns
intruder in the gardens of the mellow
mimicking the beauty of my dawns.
paint me in thick oils, richness deep
colors of wild howls, barks, and hoots
surrounded by the company I keep
anchored in the depth of wilding roots.
photograph me, center, tall and proud
rubbing petals with the hybrid mimes
silenced by the fear of being loud
paying homage to the price of beauty’s crimes.
draw me in the scrapbook of your mind
small fingers reaching out to feel
a gift to which the world grew slowly blind
the life that makes the dandelion real.
8/6/2016
submitted to – Each one of us has His or Her won Flower of Attraction – Poetry Contest
sponsor – Rick Parise
Sometimes,
I write poems like
Drawing a portrait...
Give it a loose framework,
Then fill it out, starting
From the heart-
I always shade in the eyes first
Because they give the paper
A soul-
Always write down the
First words That come to
Mind because I'm trying to
Give the paper
My soul-
Sometimes,
I write poems all at once,
Like a single stroke of color-
Sometimes,
I don't write them at all...
I just whisper them to the air;
Let them evaporate
Like warm
Raindrops.
Seasons like emotions fade away.
Where poisonous rain once
blistered susceptible surfaces,
now sapphire skies showcase the saffron sun,
silently soothing somber scars.
Yesterday was a vacant colouring book.
Today is a kaleidoscopic canvas of colours,
illuminating every blank page.
Rainbow rivers stream through my veins,
as eyes paint in positive portraits.
Pen flows like exotic fruit juices,
blending sweet smoothies.
Essence of fruit salad zest,
liberates from a coconut mind.
Psychedelic pineapple heart,
nurtures my mango soul's serenity.
Sentimental sun rays embrace,
soaking warmth deep inside.
Happiness is tranquil like a
pleasant fresh ocean breeze.
Drowning in foolish beliefs;
Pixilated portraits falling off
Corroded walls;
Blank canvases pervaded by
Grainy brush strokes,
Billowing amidst scattered flickers of
Crumbling structures,
Ambling in blighted stillness.
Venturing to find equilibrium in
This cryptic world,
Stranded and abandoned,
Layered upon a
Pillar of empiric darkness,
Glazed in meaningless semantics.
Storm born prisms reflecting rainbow
Arching between the hills below
Moonbeams on water mirror the sky
Far away the loon's haunting cry
At the end of our street runs a creek
Played in by many little feet
Just one splendid drop from off the leaf
Such beauty ours in moments brief
3/17/14
I painted portraits of you in my heart
till' dark clouds allowed pouring rain to fall
washed away paintings hung that fell apart
to leave my heart's chamber an empty hall
my love for you held portraits that I hung
now a darker place with its vacant walls
where my love's dust becomes a wormwood dung
when love died slowly in pain-filled thralls
this chamber, this hall, now a silent place
that's shrouded by a darkness of morass
when vanished portraits left a lonely space
where doors are closed and no one may trespass
For all my painted portraits I will weep
When I find them in my dreams when I sleep
Written by Gail DeBole on January 26, 2013
Portrait One
You thought that they were crazy.
Watching the news each night.
Your explanation was simple.
Crazy. The killers, the liars, the cheaters…
And I snuggled next to you.
Thinking how overly-simplified your conclusion was.
Your shoulder making an excellent pillow.
Your apron always on.
And after the news was over
You were back in the kitchen taking care of…
Everything and everybody.
Portrait Two
In the video…old video…it’s now a memory.
You and your sister
Talking and laughing.
No sound video.
Can’t tell what you are saying.
Can only see the love between
You and your sister.
That will have to be enough.
That’s all that matters.
Note: Part of the Portrait Collection
The flower and the soil
‘O, flower, if you’ll be
rooted to me firmly,
you’ll be standing proud;
I’ll not let you fall.
I’ll nourish and nurture you
till Father Time calls,
and wilt you and wither
into just a memory.
The nest and the nestling
‘O, little one, as long
as you’re in my care,
protect you, I will,
from the perils of life,
till it’s time to move on
and you learn to fly;
it’s enough for me that
I once was your shelter.
PORTRAITS
photographic portrayal depicted
perspective platitude inflicted
projective persona conflicted
(Copyright© April 2013-Kim van Breda)
If I would love you unconditionally, would you always love me back?
I told her, “No way, you can’t possibly be”
The girl of my dreams finally escaping the wrinkles of my imagination
On longitudes and latitudes, you are dotted in silhouettes
This is not a suicidal love
A feeling oh so lovely so powerful how could you possibly try to ignore
I can’t stay asleep every minute I need to see your pretty face
The deep well of sorrow is now covered
And innocence regained
Is she too perfect to be true?
Maybe, maybe not!
*Inspired by the PoetrySoup mix bowl of talented artist writers*
Dawn hurls
Magic aura;
Song birds sing
~~~~~~~~~
Cheery sunrise
Poetry of light;
Ceremonious new day
~~~~~~~~~
Awakening
Dreamy lines linger;
Unremembered glimpses
~~~~~~~~~
Brisk walk seeking
Wet market food supplies;
Fresh vegetables greet
~~~~~~~~~
Busy food court
Crowded queues;
Hunger strikes a pose
~~~~~~~~~
Early morning queue
Banking transactions;
Money on the move
~~~~~~~~~
Friendly fruit vendor
Skins three pineapples;
Durians? Very nice!
~~~~~~~~~
Night market stalls
All sorts of stuff;
Even used books for sale
~~~~~~~~~
My wife cooks
Family meal happiness;
Home-styled 3-Michelin Stars!
~~~~~~~~~
Our Prime Minister
Gives a hearty Rally Speech;
Beaming smiles like poetry
~~~~~~~~~
Bay front shoppes
Luxury goods sparkle;
Nice can be a vice
~~~~~~~~~
Too little too late
Now gone with the wind;
Regrets accumulate
~~~~~~~~~
Listen now
Your heart speaks;
Stormy revelations
~~~~~~~~~
Images flash
Ideas and insights;
Picture portraits swirl
~~~~~~~~~
Late to bed
Early to rise;
Prize of the wise!
~~~~~~~~~
Morning rain
Wind chanting secrets;
Nondescript verbiage
~~~~~~~~~
Hibiscus flowers
Pink, red, yellow, orange;
Spectrums of hot weather
~~~~~~~~~
Plumeria ventures
Blooming in the sun;
August transfiguration
~~~~~~~~~
Stash of cash
Money for a rainy day;
Smile on my face
~~~~~~~~~
Words stream surge
Seeking a nuance;
Fragments and moments
~~~~~~~~~
So much to do
So little time;
Let's enjoy the breeze
~~~~~~~~~
Bus-stop heat wave
Pouring sweat ooze;
Humid and hot afternoon
~~~~~~~~~
Oriental beauty
Pretty and sexy;
Beer hostess serving
~~~~~~~~~
Electrons busy
Word craft attends;
Wet rain on concrete
~~~~~~~~~
Leon Enriquez
20 August 2014
Singapore
stacked certificates of printed births.
ink stamped little feet on four by eight cards.
such near relatives returning to
golden crayan bethel's.
exact paper portraits....
such exact paper portraits....
when exacting paper portraits...….
now they say god has hands so he too
i suppose can be forgiven at times.
they say a life can
be measured in judicial lengths.
tiny lives beginning at one end
catalogued at another.
corners glissening.....
in time there will be a coffee stain
and wrinkles along the edges.
all collected ornately and catalogued
by a very old god.
happy
feel lifting gifts arrive shining golden bright days ...
striking steel brushes create a pain-hued Monet ...
depressed
Poetry portraits
Artistry that is shown in every line
Snapshots combined to translate
Scenes, emotions, triggered memoirs
Into a single frame
It starts down in the heart
And spread wings and
Your arms have no choice
But to embrace her
It is what through some phenomenon
She places things on the inside
You find there butterflies, musical notes
Inquiries
Questions, that lead you endlessly wondering
In delirium, my equilibrium is challenged
Falling deep into my thoughts again