Best Scrim Poems
i am surrounded by a blaze of flaming colors in God's garden.
autumn happily creating with her palette in hand the September scape.
a thousand shades of reds, yellows, browns, earth tones spread,
blended perfectly by the artist's loving hand, a sensual delight.
a masterpiece, sketched against a bark colored scrim of nature's flesh.
with my eyes opened wide and my body clothed in autumns light
quenched but still wanting, unwillingly i stagger away, drunk from exposure.
Maurice Yvonne
September 2 2014
Ballet of the Stars
Breath of the galaxy spins the night sky
Over the magic of midsummer dreams
Legends, lovers, pirouette through the night
Sculptures of fire carved with airy light beams
Dances l’etoile sparkle winter rondeaus
Gossamer nebulas leave stardust veils
Ensembles of stars in stellar tableaus
Costumed in lightness made of starry faille
Astral ballets dance on ebony stage
Patterns of stars in place in this dark space
Stage left then stage right arrangements change place
Celestial performance – rotating grace
Star-spangled glitter on star twinkle toes
Scrim curtain rises on nighttime’s light show.
5-18-23
Contest: Sonnet Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Sotto Poet
Syllables checked with www.howmanysyllables
Celestial – 3 syllables
Performance – 3 syllables
Beyond the Black Fence
By Sy Roth
The land lay fallow
Beyond the black fence.
Growth once dressed in a white blanket of hoar in winter landscapes
Lush in summer months
Deer speckled backdrop
Munched all day behind a scrim of lush camouflage
And black birds rested on the scrub
Coupled with the land and each other
A fornucopia of perpetuation.
But like time
It marched in to war on its own turf--
The cranes, yellow tractor-footed creatures
Tore at the soil and formed mountains of dirt
That wild (plants?) draped over
And the long-necked (?) concrete spreaders
Filled the gaping foundations with its gray slush
And the deer fled
And the black birds had resting places on the open rooftops
And the last trees crumbled to the diesel monsters
Where future houses will stack itself with the firewood
Of septuagenarians and those who aspire to end that race.
Incessant noise of change
A cock-a-doodle-doo alarm
On the other side of the black fence
My side where I find comfort in a book
And a drink to whet my appetite
And conjure up the images of the verdant green that once was
And the hoary land that once was my winter vista
COTTAGE IN THE WOODS
It’s hazy
A scrim tints all shades the same – like the
Washed-yellow flowers fronting a shallow pond –
Making ghostly the cozy, little cottage beyond,
Which rises from the rushes and wild cover,
Nearly hidden by jack pine
And so dense – one, the foremost, in sad decline.
I pause, delay, to pick some wayward blooms,
Grown curious what lay within the cottage rooms
Oh, it’s a summer thing this soulful bliss,
Thatched roof and potted-window muse,
Snow White and dwarfs, a true love’s kiss
A sudden, fishy plash, though, disturbs my reverie -
The weedy pond, all ripples reflection -
The whole become some cubist fantasy
With the glut of sounds fixed within the book of expressions
I cause the dearth in mine carve ‘pon slip for the eager to ponder
A poet compelled yet tactful with scribe as a view thru scrim
It’s the phantom window cleaner
He’s a man who’s built for speed
You should see him cleaning windows
He’s extremely fast indeed
If you watch him climb his ladder
With his squeegee and his scrim
Then you will not be surprised
That there’s not too much of him
He won’t slow down his pace
It’s such a disconcerting habit
Like a ferret up a pipe, or
A whippet, chasing rabbit
But wait till Friday night
When he is serving at the bar
It’s a total transformation
He’s the slowest one by far
hanging on the tree like red ripe apples snow scrim postcards view winter
Afternoon, late March, delivering promise
of downtime from errands, long lines at the post,
queues of cars at stoplights, what, if anything, is in
the pantry for supper. A glass of wine is nice, will suffice
against the mind's continuous monolog, news of unrest
in distant lands, world hunger, and men on South
Africa's wild coast who believe raping small girls
will cure them of their AIDS. For respite, I turn
to the wood storks and two world-class pines, sending
a blessing of straw and symmetrical cones into protective
lake growth, sealing its borders with a scrim
of airy viridian; birthright of sea birds seeking evening
asylum. So, what to do about an invasion of enormous
jaws that take no prisoners on a battlefield of buzz saws?
Machetes, felling pines, wild shrubs, and indigenous
palmettos with which landscapers decorate yards
of costly homes. Development, Progress, New
Construction? Words to glamorize rape of wetlands.
The storks are flying away, now, from across the lake,
where once in heart-stopping numbers they bivouacked
against the advent of night. This day, this hour,
they take wing, bird by bird in a ghostly exodus,
taking their "Reflection of nearly all light
from all visible wave links," purer than masses
of lilies on an Easter grave.
OLDEN TIME CHASE
Hear them shout!
Voices carried on olden winds
Young faces peering round trees
Round the corner of old houses
Seen through a scrim clouding memory
Oh there are Redskins!
There are bandits!
Guns whittled out of orange crates
Horses fashioned up from movie image
Hear them whinny
Alive through the mouths of children
Kids focused ‘neath a giant cottonwood
Near the alley on a vacant lot
Not a lot really
But a dusty stage for many exciting plots
Hear them shout!
How the horses stir the dust
How the Indians whoop!
I hear the summer chase
On sunny days
When there’s not a thing to do
The scent of a boiled, fruit steamed pudding being made
evoked memories of my grandmother;
when I was a child.
home-making hers , in a scrim-cloth
on the open-range...
brought home to me
how much I loved her then
and miss her now.
49 years , touched me like yesterday
and I cried for her loss
all over again.
Elizabeth alexander 24/12/2015
UNSUPPORTED CODE
Rapture
Alleluia approaches
Emerging from Eternity’s gauzy scrim
Rehearsing its lines
Through trampled palm branches
Iron nails
Thorns
And cross beams
Raised between pure Heaven
And haunted earth
To shatter rocks of primeval time
Into stony dust
That bows before
The Prince of Heaven
Wrapped in life’s breath again
Victory’s rapture
Exuberant and ecstatic entwined
Passion’s passionate transformation
Anointed joy walks once more
Among the lepers and the lame
On nail-scarred feet
In the forever season
Shouting
ALLELUIA!!!
4-4-23
Contest: Writing Challenge “R” Words
Sponsor: Constance LaFrance
3rd Place
4-4-23
Contest: Free Submission
Sponsor: Sotto Poet
Elusive Ephemeral Ethereal Expansive: Timelessness
Analogous to mobius strip -
measured passage of existence
only took precedence
with *****sapiens ascendent
busting forth upon
the figurative pedestal
presiding over domain,
sans Earthly covenant
a bajillion ago,
where fits and starts
pitted proto humans
at no immediate advantage,
yet merely, thru
dint of accidental
happenstance ever so
imperceptibly amassed dominion
over every other species
as became evident
throughout the vast sweep of
anthropological
evolutionary incidental
plucky perturbations, provocations,
and/or pullulations arisen by
spontaneous circumstantial grant
ting quasi consciously
coalescing into brutish
deliberated focused intent,
where forethought
coopted indiscriminate
chance facilitating kent -
manifested rubber
baby buggy bumpers
activated, aggrandized, and
allotted destiny meant
to lurch incrementally
i.e. hierarchical designation
present day primate
predecessors practiced negligible
notched nimbleness orchestrated
(equal parts gall and genetic
giftedness), whatsapp operant
adaptation toward
survival rippled quiescent
lee minutely nudging overt salient
traits ineluctably
manifesting, outflanking,
and proffering
quintessential urgent
biological scrim quietly testing,
and wrestling, whence yen
(to secure rootedness)
zeroing what didst warrant
winning formula
to adapt adroit edge
pitted by dictates of nature
grappling iron
grip, viz literal hedge
fund and kickstarting toehold
upon tenuous ledge
(oft times succumbing to danger)
falling into abyss
of anonymity pledge
jing acquired innovative tool
such as a primitive sledge
hammer instinctively
resigning animal instinct
death be not proud not
before inculcating
survivalist tactical wedge.
After a lifetime
(pronounced like millennium),
where tenacity futilely braced
psyche deeply purpled,
hellishly, and lethally
traced resulting scars -
jackknifed, emasculated
cruelly chaste
sexuality expired, lapsed,
and petered out testosterone
begone to waste,
and how this abased
bereft of eroded optimism,
nee faith no more - erased,
solitary carbon based animal
coalesced into countless
foreborn generations
(glommed *****sapiens
salient survival skills)
mortified, putrefied, and
stagnated toxic brew
quaffing poisonous
score peon - composite gin,
barley distilled, exiled,
and fragmented
human encased
faculties doggedly
catapulted, with haste
squandered genetic inheritance
kamikaze potential
apathetically plundered, akin
how Hindenburg plummeted
like led zeppelin,
(scare way to craven)
his foghorn emitting distinctive
Semitic bulbous
shofar shaped schnozzle traced
analogous to decrepit son -
dialed helpline to late
promising lad once vaunted
lauded, and
deemed hereditarily, -
he busted great expectations
quintessentially, psycho
socially, and opportunistically
lineage noble storied
standing déclassé debased
forced to take stock at aging
non-thrilled man
in the mirror
haggard heavily creased
doughy paste poker face
(born that way)
blankly stare ring back, spaced
out, no longer boyish,
but gray bearly grizzled,
flecked, and etched stubble,
scraggly unkempt whiskers
discombobulated
straggly matted hair
limply drape stupefied noggin
utterly disc graced
countenance eye spy
crows feet laced
blotchy complexion re: placed
once smooth skin
donned dawning senescence
amplification trumped
"NON FAKE" crudely
aping scrim age lost
fight of his life.
Afternoon, late March, delivering promise
of respite from errands, long lines at the post office,
queues of cars at red lights, what, if anything, is in
the offing for supper. A glass of wine is nice, will soften
the mind's noisy dissertation, news of unrest in
distant lands, world hunger, and men on South Africa's
Wild Coast who believe raping small girls will cure
their AIDS. For respite, I turn to the wood storks
and two world-class pines, sending perfect drifts of straw
and symmetrical cones into the protective lake-growth
ornamenting edges with a scrim of airy viridian: birth-
right of sea birds needing evening asylum. Now,
there's an unwanted invasion of enormous jaws, taking
no prisoners on a battlefield of buzz saws. Machetes
fell pines, artless shrubs and perfect palmettos that greedy
landscapers treasure to decorate the yard-scapes of
costly homes. Development, New Construction? Words--
glamorizing rape of wetlands. The birds are flying out,
now, from across our lake, where once in heart-
stopping numbers, they bivouacked against the arrival
of night. This day, this hour, they take wing, bird
by bird in a ghostly exodus, taking their "Reflection
of nearly all light from all visible wave links," whiter
than masses of lilies on an Easter morning. O,
lost blessing, these birds, taking healing
and our hearts in their exodus.
ALIENS?
From another planet?
OR
Another dimension?
That thin scrim-of-mind
strains to penetrate!
The Master has counseled -
“Many Mansions”
Perhaps…………..
all depends
on developing-imagination
Of……………….
Coming out of body
filtering through that thin scrim
resting just back of the eyes
Yes!
Just back of the eyes but
galaxies deep!
“Go into your closet”
counseled the Master
Yes!
that “closet” beyond the stars
beyond physical need
beyond fear
beyond beyond
That we see aliens might be proof
proof that the window to beyond may be opened
Are a few allowed to see to visit?
What world undetected whirls around me
as I write?
.........................................................
For Carolyn Devonshire, my mystic friend.