Best Portraiture Poems
Paint me blue like the sky
rainbow's smile; thunder's cry
clouded curtains rife with rain
till shroud is lanced and bluebirds fly again
Wistful moods in mahogany frames
melancholy painters with undiscovered names
rearrange reveries in pastel hues
decorating lonely walls with brooding blues
Paint me emerald like the sea
feeling caged; rolling free
stormy rage; morning calm
who knows where swelling waves come from?
Which shades best record a personality?
Which side of the coin is preserved for history?
Shall I smile or appear dignified?
Do I show my true self, or try to hide?
Paint me tawny like a lark
as the sky dissolves to dark
flying free but not for long
a gloomy gloaming swallows up its song
What do you see as I hold this pose?
Will you reveal or conceal my imperfect nose?
Will you paint scars and wrinkles or leave no trace?
Will your biography in oils show lines on my face?
Paint me crystalline like a wine glass
for you somehow see right through
the paintbrush captures the epidermis
but the painter overlays the spirit
Superimposing your style, passions, heartbreaks, joie de vivre
onto my facets, form, features, and flaws
with love, you labor on
transforming my brief life into a lasting work of art
Paint me gold like a sunrise
as it marks the dark's demise
background wash of faith, hope, love;
the colors life's palette is made of.
When bones are one with graveyard soils
these memories preserved in oils
are saved for those who later come
that they may know where they've come from
written 1 Sep 2022
...with gratitude for all the inspired artists who
carry forward the grand tradition of portraiture.
To feel the morning zephyr on my face,
To wake up to the sound of cuckoo's call,
To take a stroll through the woods at my pace,
To watch aurora greet the red fireball,
To see the leaves romancing with the breeze,
To smell the fresh scent of a blooming rose,
To glimpse the hummingbird winging its way,
To hold on to dawn's smile as it does tease,
To enjoy azure sky's warm colour shows ~
How wonderful to thus begin my day!!
Time with nature is sure to refresh us,
Admiring God's beautiful creation,
At daybreak, life around is lustre plus,
We can leave behind all our frustration,
Nature rejuvenates like none other,
Where else can we find such calm, peace and joy?
Our worries and cares, we can cast aside,
When we spend some time with the earth mother,
How careful we must be not to destroy
the Maker's handiwork diversified!!
Reigning gloriously, Nature's serene,
As she goes about her assigned duties,
At dayspring, we can admire her bright screen,
Displaying her awe-inspiring beauties;
She's a peaceful Regina's portraiture,
Silently bearing, groaning* and seeing
the destruction caused by human grenade;
Deep in our hearts, we must be like nature ~
Always giving, spreading smiles by being
true to our purpose for which we are made.
Across the wide meadow of verdant green,
splashes of pastel pink waved in the breeze.
One of the lovliest wildflowers I've ever seen
appeared to ebb and flow like restless seas.
Delicate, the buttercup, its veins finger-traced.
This wildflower beauty with nectared center
stands patiently waiting with an upturned face,
welcoming pollen seekers with, "Please enter."
Enmass they flourish as a grand gift of Nature.
Growing in profusion, untended, they live and die.
They've inspired artists to paint their portraiture,
and innocently open their petals to the butterfly.
April 12th, 2017
Ode to a Flower(s) Contest
Shadow Hamilton
A mystic rose smile that belonged to my mother this is what I recall
My easel and I resting in the spirit, by the grandeur of a morning tilt. As the
Yellow sunrays streak across the canvass, I think of Lamancha
Saffron and mom's tasty soups. Contentedly I paint away until a
Ticklish breeze brings me back to present stay. A lifetime away still I recall the
Indian sari she wore with shades of orange/gold lamer. Lustrous hair pulled
Carefully back, exposing two dark coaled eyes that shone like brightly lit topaz .
Red carnelian sun in tonal ranges splashed across a tapestry of love
Oxidized colors melding into the portraiture of Sahana, Matriarch of Bangalore.
Smiling at the camera a thousand watts from Lalbagh Botanical Gardens. Her
Energy exhumed inside the sketch my recollecting fingertips
Subservient hands cupping my tiny face, "My little turmeric "
Maybe you'll be an artist some day, she spoke with her eyes
I like to think she was the reason I succeeded. Her every word a
Laud accolade. I remember the day I held my first paintbrush
Every time I pick one up today, I think of my mom and a village called Aluru .
November 19, 2021
THE GIFT THAT GOD GIVES US
The gift that I give you is My beloved Son,
With His sacrifice on the Cross, His work is done,
The gift that I give you is life ever after,
Life in heaven filled with thanksgiving and laughter,
The gift that I give you is everlasting peace,
Not as the world gives, but where soul conflicts will cease,
The gift that I give you is joy down in your heart,
Which will remain no matter what life does impart,
The gift that I give you is My unending love,
Holy Spirit within you like a pure, white dove,
The gift that I give you is robe of salvation,
My power to overcome any temptation,
The gift that I give you is this rare privilege
To call Me your Father in this world's pilgrimage,
The gift that I give you is magical Nature,
Which reminds all men of Omniscient portraiture,
The gift that I give you is the chance to praise Me
For all that you enjoy and for all that you see
The gift that I give you is the power of pray'r
To commune more with Me anytime anywhere
The gift that I give you is My Word unfailing
The lamp unto your feet, o’er darkness prevailing
The gift that I give you is this good news to share,
I'm waiting with arms open to welcome and care,
The gift that I give you is My blessings galore,
Infinite as the stars or the sand near the shore,
The gift that I give you is your free will to choose
The Narrow Way to life or the broad to death’s ruse
The gift that I give you is our relationship,
You are precious to Me, My unique workmanship.
07.02.2021
For Mystic Rose Rose's "The Gift That I Give You" contest
One impression,to another
led this novice to discover
Expressions,abstracts,old and new,
a closer lens helped change my view;
Taste and see
&curiosity,
helped me,to be me.
“Let us dance in the sun, wearing wild flowers in our hair...”
~ Susan Polis Schutz
It always seems like a magical moment when Spring yields
blooms of flaxen color across verdant meadows and fields
There, on stems waving in the air on a warm gentle breeze
buttercups, ebb and flow like restless tides on rolling seas
A wildflower, petals so delicate, I can trace its fragile veins
They grow quickly, nourished by the sun and gentle rains
In profusion they flourish as the gift of Mother Nature,
inspiring pastoral artists to paint their likeness in portraiture
I remember many soft Spring days when I was just a child
traipsing lightly through them, I was charmed and beguiled
I danced with them in my hair; glorious sun-kissed flowers
and laughed when clouds drenched me with sudden showers
When I wandered, mother didn't wonder where I'd strayed
She knew she would find me in the golden buttercup glade
Petal laced, are these comely wildflowers with sweet center
welcoming bees, birds and butterflies; inviting them to enter
March 12, 2021
Flower or Flowers in Imagism Form
Sponsored by: Constance La France
I enjoy being in tune with nature,
As I sit, I hear such a loving sound.
Reminded of God, our legislature.
From this small hill, I hear him all around.
Melodies of life flow through nature's core,
Floating towards the one who sits on high.
I heard soft notes as the tide came to shore.
And I can sense his divine presence nigh.
Joanna Daniel's part
I enjoy this harmony with nature,
Feeling close to God, as He calls me out,
Each sound reveals His loving portraiture,
He's alive in nature, there is no doubt.
Songs of praise spark my pen, as I listen
To birds chirruping in satisfaction.
A thousand rays on the ocean glisten.
Grateful am I for His benefaction.
03/23/2023
Rhyme Scheme: abab
Contest: Collaborate With Me
Sponsor: Joanna Daniel
Syllable: 10/10/10/10/10/10/10/10
Rhyme Scheme: abab/abab
Theme: Nature
She is a perfectly crafted portrait
The canvas nuisance of her skin
The collected sense of sensualness
In every lines convergence of her curving
And as the sun played with its fingers
Through the shadow dancing of the trees
Her feet upon their high heels
Staccato castanets upon the pavements
Waltzing with the loveliness
Of her flamenco with the breeze
So many eyes were lifted from the aged sighs of coffee cups
This passing reminder of admiration
Watching the floating calico
That hung within their vision
And so many men were left to wonder
On the naked sanctuary
Of this woman
The taste she could bequeath
With the succulent whisper of her lips
And the shuddering sigh she would utter
As they lay there
Between her legs
Like unrepentant diamond
With all the promise of a snow flake
This fantasy as she passed them
Gave no clue to the preparation
And of her made up person
She gave no hint
She was hidden behind the brushwork
The portraiture powder, gloss and tint
And the presence of her kisses
Were wiped away in the colour of her lipstick
No one saw the tiny woman
Wishing she knew how to be
More than this, the fashionable enhancements
Of her eyes, her legs, her hair and breasts
No one knew the pattern of the slave trade
Sown with iron into the lining
Of her dress
And no one heard the weeping woman
As her soul went slowly gliding by
And no one knew how she was asking them
For an answer to the question
Am I anyone
Am I nothing more
Than this
Still, she was held in the curse of beauty
Turning everything she is into property
To be nothing more than a trophy
Pinned to the wall of the wealthiest
No one could hear the silence
Or see the sadness in the mirror of her eyes
And no one paid attention to the stitches
Running through the weaving of her canvas
Bleeding Tears
I would love to master the bait,
But my heart still crumbles with tears,
I thought I had wept all,
But your simple sound still sizzle straight to haunt,
My gaits to move to splotch me,
Because the vase of love has been sucked to dry,
I sit in my kneaded hut with tears bathing my chest,
I am bleeding tears!
The marshal with anger and pain,
A paper love was well destined than action,
Promises we baked thawed before oven-ed to reality,
My eyes dilate with barrels of tears,
That is craving to be released to freedom,
As they leave a mark of a broken heart that has no cure,
I sit down looking at your portraiture,
With tears water logging my chest,
Am bleeding tears!
I’m put upon to ponder the problem of poetry
& thus, I proudly or, perhaps, perfunctorily,
Ponderously pronounce with a preponderance,
Even a plethora, of p’s:
Poetry is pithy, prankish and perky,
Pertinent and impertinent, too
It’s prophetic, pathetic, pragmatic and proud
Poetry pretends, preaches, points out,
Points to, and down, and under
Poetry’s petals promise purity and peace
Poetry’s pristine, picky and pale
Poetry is practical, prudent, is pregnant,
Gives pause
Poetry’s precise, prayerful, powerful
Poetry’s presence is portentious and playful
Poetry’s a mosaic portrayal, a
Painted portraiture, perfect, profane
Prosaic, it is not,
Preposterous, it is
It is ponderous, political, porous, pontifical
Peripatetic and perennial,
Prescient, pedantic, possessive and puerile
Perfidious, perceptible, perplexing, perfectible
Poetry perseverates, preserves, perseveres
Sometimes perplexing, never perishable,
It pulses it prowls, it probes and it pries
Poetry is a perverse, precocious, pubescent prankster
It prances, and preens periwinkle plumage
In place of deep purple prose
A persuasive, peculiarly pleasant peacock,
Poetry promulgates poems!
Poetry, dear poet, exists
Poetry, dear poet, persists
Poetry, dear poet, persists and preoccupies
Poetry can never desist
Poetry perpetually propagates poems
And that
is the problem
with poetry…
Phew!!!
May you grace the shores of Eternity
And upon Life's waiting seas
Cast a dreadnought...
May sunstruck vistas embrace you
As their son and brother
As the beautiful doings of your soul
Surpass that glorious portraiture...
For in your deep and brooding eyes
Is the promise of Tomorrow,
And all the dreams and hopes
Of a thosand generations
Dance within them.
I believe in that...I believe in you.
Within the long crevices of twilight
As hazy images would slip and fade—
Minutes drift like an opalescent rite
Where silhouettes flash behind a lampshade,
Wheeling faintly on my mind to invade
Glimpses from young adulthood I recall
Such b r o k e n n e s s this fist could never haul:
Yes, Mama’s portraiture finds me needing
Treasured vignettes now angled on our wall...
Prayers I grant on this date---her wedding.
~
Dizain Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Dear Heart
5/18/2020
Portraits can take many shapes and forms
Unlike in Rembrandt, a Rubens, or even a Dali
Modern artists will often eschew the norms
Portraits of myself do not look much like me.
Unlike in Rembrandt, a Rubens, or even a Dali
A portrait may be merely a fine-line drawing
Portraits of myself may not look much like me,
Asked why, the artist will do some hem-hawing.
A portrait may be merely a fine-line drawing
Having none of the subject’s facial features,
Asked why, the artist will do some hem-hawing
Artists must see subjects as mythical creatures.
Having none of the subject’s facial features,
I find it impossible to know who I’m looking at
Artists must see subjects as mythical creatures,
But I take umbrage when I am drawn as a cat!
I find it impossible to know who I’m looking at
Modern artists will often eschew the norms
But I take umbrage when I am drawn as a cat,
Portraits can take many shapes and forms.
Written November 28, 2022
The Continuum of Time, Nature,
Poetry, and Love
Just as the ocean’s continuous motion,
and sands ever shifting in time;
constant the clicking of clock’s endless ticking;
this poet’s perpetual rhyme.
Sure as the morning with sunrise adorning,
and crocus that blooms in the spring;
days softly humming with nature’s forthcoming,
this mirth makes the mockingbird sing.
Dreams keep amassing as time keeps on passing,
these reveries seen in my mind.
With seasons contrasting this beauty is lasting
that nature forever designed.
Sure as this portraiture beauty of nature
in springtime when life starts anew;
like nature’s endeavor and lasting forever,
this love in my heart felt for you.
July 7, 2019