Best Scape Poems
time …
drips as color, inked and puddled
minutes like sable bristles, bound
laying down the hours as fading bands of value
what are the shades of a life - of a person?
how do aim and purpose and fallibility
influence what's placed on actuality's canvas?
instance and interval are the palette
but passion and purpose are the pigments
desire, the light that affects hue
method and realization, the design
imagination supplying shape and aspect
and effort, the hand that steadies the tools
we each paint our own feral portrait - abstract or photo-realistic
impressionistic or conceptual, surreal or minimalist
artists, ALL, in command of the grandest composition
breathe deep, life, and exhale your purest inspiration
wield the brush of ages in your grasp, focused by intent
consider your medium, and stain the parchment as no other
move the paint - daub the paper with your dreams
baptized in perspective, fresh and joyous and dazzling
worthy of matting and framing, and adorning the halls ...
of Eternity
~ 3rd Place ~ in the "Strand Choice N, Any Form, Any Theme" Poetry Contest, Brian Strand, Judge & Sponsor.
~ 9th Place ~ in the "Paint Movers" Poetry Contest, Anthony Slausen, Judge & Sponsor.
People were
Disconnected
From the flow of
Years gone by.
Nothing is reflected.
The tower of this land
Collapses,
Leaving nothing left in it’s place,
It’s gone now,
Time relapses.
This body is
Frayed and distorted,
But without a mind and consciousness,
It still moves on.
Time is reloaded.
The beating and breathing of this heart,
Is destroyed again, now
Evanescence.
A conscious mind is gone,
Anyway, anyhow.
The chains
Are gone,
No longer holding it,
The Dream will go
Until dawn.
Eyes misjudge
This fleeting dream,
But it still
Looks for the “Dreamscape”,
But with nothing to redeem.
I am Fantasy,
I am a dream.
But my Dreamscape
Cannot be destroyed,
I will shout and scream.
Notice
Me,
Now
See
the train is moving
we feel false sens-
ations
shades of green
across the parallel
tracks
clogged lymphatic system
abnormal new growth
anarchy
she is
dancing on the fallen
red petals
naked
feet
the red butterfly with
spotted blue belly
singing
she is touching
my fluttering heart
i am
defibrillated
the new rain trampling
upon the fallen
petals
doubled beauty art
upside down snow capped mountains
in clear blue waters
A goat without blemish
And creepers and verming
Are inserted in its mouth
Then all it's orifices are bound
The ancients sewed them up
And it driven to the wilderness
To carry away the sins of the masses
You took the fall Massiah
Carrying that cross and driven
To Golgotha carrying a heavy burden
A redemption for those willing to partake
Of the blood of the new covenant..
A lamb slain at the foundation
Of the world.. by name Word..
It took your life Uhai to create Wahyi
The prophetic word ushered life
The creating Word as the world took form
The Almighty is enthroned between the wings
Of the mighty Cherubim.. the living creatures
And the 24 elderls decree Holy holy is the Lord
Worthy is the lamb to receive the scroll
And open the seal, and proffes judgement
Lest we forget the pain and the slaughter
The rape the plunder and all the maafa
Of the land and children of the mother land
Lightening strikes, it then thunders and rain
Pours all over the land bringing renewal
Regrowth of the land signaling
As long as there is day and night
As long as harvest and planting persist
We will tend the sacred groves and proclaim
We are born of the Covenant with the Creator.
Wet on wet washed sky
Back lit foliage sponged dry
Red dirt shows through white
By Robb A. Kopp
All Rights Reserved © MMX
a FOND WHITE PIGEON ON THIS WINTER SCAPE
so fond white pigeon
just where are you lighting on
tis this winter scape
1/5/22
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr. 2022©
reds oranges yellows
all complete the massive scape
setting sun beguiles
Russell Sivey
Granite towers rising above the canyon,
Orange-colored dreams millennia ago
Carved above the lavender meadow below,
Reflecting in the stream meandering for
Miles like a snake slithering toward dusk
With scorching sun high and scintillating
Off limestone remains along the edges,
Smaller and smaller until they disappear
Into the singular vanishing point where
The painting melds itself to ornate framing.
FIRST PLACE WINNER
Brian Strand's Contest
August 3, 2021
written August 2, 2021
The inerrancy of the bible enrages me,
Boils my blood, riles me and angers,
Makes the interpretation prerogative limp,
Nullifies that interpretation bud passed onwards,
From every author who’s not embarrassed.
You read knowing the art of literature,
Is in its reader’s agreed distance from the writer,
Knowing your book’s rationally contrived,
Aware of your right to read it your own way,
Understanding the possible word play.
The bible is not authored in any way whatsoever,
Has many different historical authors, contributors,
’Twas compiled by the Nicean committee,
Maybe, by a group of intellectuals deep,
So that Jesus and an insight we could keep.
Computer Science confronts with dares,
Regarding your view of the written word,
Makes fundamentalists intrepid and silent,
About their author god who cheers and assists,
Even when reading the text, when reason so persists.
Computers let you delete certainties, things,
Change and edit completed documents,
Tell you that you’re human and creative,
Welcome your attempts, errors and mistakes,
And give fundamentalists the quiet quakes.
All inerrancy will do is frighten you and scare,
Vanquish your reason with its complementation,
Evade form for an augmented version of it,
Which will emerge as a differently defined structure,
Worth neither solidification nor the puncture.
There are no wrong actions with my computer,
No thought or situation that can’t be expressed,
No colour unavailable on the rainbow palate,
No code not writable, not fixable or reworkable,
No desire inconceivable, that’s not addressable.
We stroll ocean sand beach as waves come toward us.
Sea brakes, crashing on shore; wind's keen, birds seen now.
Feet feel water rush by - it's cold, a nice plus!
Great size cormorants sate their greed upon scow.
Seascape shows pier through day's half light, kept somehow.
Rails hold places where lines drop bait far downward.
Boats ply slowly across the sea's fog hazed brow.
Fine brave surfers catch waves where no man sees guard.
landscape of shadow life
Eden marsh is still
when the hawk
gives way to the owl
silent feathers sweep low
over shining bog
to dust away the last
vestiges of twilight
songs of other times,
once warmed and borne
on sibilant breezes,
lie deeply entombed in mud
the silver scaled seek depths
tangled by remnants
of root and reed
cat tail stalks
dried to palest brown
crisply bent before
prevailing winds
fray the edges of
ice clothed pools
we, who bide here,
weep snow tears
while crossing
through our lives
like clouds
stacked and rolling higher
over Eden marsh in winter.
we the disinherited
our voices buried
wait, words frozen
glistening spittle on tongues
hard as diamonds
cut the ice glass clot freeing sounds
of crack-shatter speech
our peat soaked bodies
bend before adversity to become
wisps of paper wasp nests
to flutter anonymously gray
delicate yet barren
our stories mere guesses
in frigid places.
I.
Whitening sands upmirror desert glare,
Glinting, underneath my mind’s burnt sun…
Paling, dream expanse.
And there I wander, rootless in some Netherwhere—
Mental vagabond, my trek begun…
Picaresque romance!
II.
Whitening bones appear by poison springs,
Dread oasis, tempting me to drink.
Shining, silver pool,
Mirage aglow. A maiden floats on glassine wings—
Beckoning me toward the toxic sink.
Reckless, I sip cool
Blighted waters. Thirsty fool.
Trump and His Scape Goats
Trump was watching his goats escape;
Were beaten up and pretty bad shape;
Hair drying,
After dying;
In White House caught wearing a cap.
Jim Horn
Every day I return
With a different sea scape.
In the first one
A bowl of well-ground
Red sandal wood paste
Had dissolved.
When sometimes
I bring the sea back
Profoundly peaceful
Like a child in slumber.
It is too light
At times I carry home
One with echo of the infinite.
I rushed back to the seaside
To return the one I brought home
Yesterday
There was a tiny fish
Caught in it!