Best Spontaneity Poems
Line of inquiry:
"discarding narrow thought flow crutch
we learn directly by soft touch
and what we garner we relay
to the vast void in childlike play
entwined thus with the universe
we dance without need to rehearse"
In an erratic existence
this ad hoc state of mind,
treads upon random paths,
to reach the doorsteps of my fate.
Those who find structure in scriptures,
let them be guided towards their remedy.
I hope they find what they seek,
but my spirit keeps spinning
like a whimsical roulette,
relying upon the universe
to weave rhythms of cosmic threads,
nourishing my soul in ethereal elixir.
I have read so many scripts of stone,
but my quill writes in impulsive ink,
rebelling against confined expression,
composing an unrehearsed sinfonia,
in an attempt to create and connect.
Unlike the moon,
we appear and disappear
like impromptu stars.
Burning into life, but blameless,
full of innocence, purifying eyes,
briefly guiding those who choose to gaze.
There is an art to being human.
Interpretation is an abstract perception.
Our hearts portray kaleidoscopic emotions,
so in my palette of unscripted intuition,
I shed the chains of conscience doubt.
In the essence of every brushstroke,
I breathe life to improvised affections.
Truth be told
truth behold,
This I see
is how all unfolds
In plain sight
not in darkness
like here tonight
I see the sky
ask myself why
there’s no reply,
No mothership
to take a trip
And… oh my god
I’m overwhelmed!
by majesty …
constellations
partnerships
A crescent moon
beckoning me
imploring me
to look harder,
The answer’s here
before my eyes
not in disguise
(Moon)
I’m here for you
at this moment
let’s synchronise,
Be here for me too
we are the same
you have a mind
I reflect the flame
The big guy
is below horizons
elsewhere rising,
draped in plasma
I follow his lead
unerringly accede
We made you
and you make us
by being here
conscious aware,
we overlook
you undertook
to question why
But there is no lie
The truth’s blinding
the truth’s binding
so let it be
Not always pretty
Not always loving
Not always giving
Not always taking
never faking
open and bare
Raw and gaping
Man gives us reason
we bring him seasons
his path seems tough
and never enough
So thank you
for looking up
come what may
we shared a reflection
Go now brother
we’ve seen the light,
Others did too tonight
just not as bright
In a ballet of restrictive and
stifling carriage, we strike into
the depths of our imagination
and boundless intuition on a
rollercoaster soaring free from
rigid clips, venturing into a cosmic
sphere where dreams take flight,
on Saturn's rings,
exhilarating twists and turns.
Firm on the grand stage,
we play roughly and smoothly,
each length, a part of nature's layers.
Flames cannot be known by names
alone, until a touch signifies its
friendliness, an improvised whirl
flows from each planet's curves,
a feeling extended to its neighbours.
We shamelessly surrender to
the rhythm of the divine,
navigating each realm
through our inner voice,
slowly bringing it to reality,
where we find our worth in
positive existence.
Nature's wings sting through the
murmurs of rustling trees.
The twirl of the winds sings
whispers of vibrations.
Silent energy embraces the soul
of the moon, giving us insights
where we paint through without
worrying about the result.
Entangled in the sweet rhythm
of unknown tones with languages
that stir you into another dimension,
beating to the smile of strangers,
soaring high just to see low.
Play tags without keeping taps.
Read dialogues to friends with
no lines, go unnoticed in perfection,
craving attention so you live without scripts.
Discarding narrow thought flow crutch
We learn directly by soft touch
And what we garner we relay
To the vast void in childlike play
Entwined this with the universe
We dance without the need to rehearse.
Even as a child, how I used to enjoy
A simple stroll through the woods
When innocent instincts ruled my heart
And ran after every call from the wild or bush,
Mesmerized by the warbling of the cuckoo and the thrush.
It was a time when every rainbow and every peacock feather
Ignited endless curiosity in me
And colored my imagination wild.
How with my friends, I ran to the beautiful seaside
Watching the wild waves’ fury and cooled by the kiss of spray
Feeling the sea foam and the sand under our bare feet
With what delirious joy we watched at night
A hundred fireflies dancing around
Wondering if they were stars, fallen from heaven.
Like the sweeping breeze, we ran over grassy slopes,
Looking for the bleating lamb
Singing in chorus, ‘Mary had a little lamb’
They were all spontaneous acts like breathing,
With no interest in gaining anything or impressing anybody
But just the simple signs of being alive,
And a way of burning the exuberant energy that overwhelmed us.
I was never called a poet or an artist then—
Not worried about rehearsing or perfecting my art.
I was just an observer, inhaling all the beauty
With a fluid spontaneity, characteristic of childhood
~ As early nightfall tousles my hair prism light,
the alchemy of a ceremonial parade begins
in this panel of a forest like a mystic scene
~ fondling my skin…jutting from nowhere,
a relay of tigers and flamingos swivel
on glowing shafts in the pale dark ... I freeze.
Some quick time frames away, the jungle rises
with raw stirrings of wildlife; an explosion
~ from a world curving a zebra's flowing movement
of unrehearsed art, of twilight spontaneity
~ oh so blind to human, mental gazes;
they slide away from such calculated moments as
.~ my body enters their changing symmetry
collapsing in mindless trance that nothing
from my eyes is ever hidden, not even the low
gushing in my breath… I shut my lids to memorize
the anatomy of their kind faces, those rising limbs
simply estranged from rehearsed gaiety.
And I seize their impressions defying the seeming
~ cramps of man’s robotic strides;
yet, i cannot hold them inside this head’s waves
~ of memory , consumed with the grace displayed
by creatures’ unbridled rites to its gods…
I become the humble slave of divine beasts.
`~ ~ ~ ~``
*from my journal about a night safari in Singapore
for Debbie Guzzi's Etcetera by nette onclaud
To say exactly what I feel,
At first seems quite unreal.
What’s on my mind to be exact.
Without forethought, without tact?
To beckon my deepest thought
Not thinking whether I ought
Well, OK I will give it a go,
what will happen I don’t know.
Thoughts sweep.
Old times creep.
Whispers remain.
Joyous refrain.
Quite unaware.
Your blissful stare.
The dense dark.
Flights we embark.
Monumental being.
No eyes for seeing.
Cradled in glad.
Surrender to be had.
The peace dove dies.
Sorrowful cries.
Sunshine streams
Waken from dreams.
Craving for a tune.
Need to hear it soon.
Remember its name.
Now it’s a game.
I must play that song.
Not heard it in so long.
Was a favorite of mine.
Memory untwine.
Must have spontaneity.
It will bring gayety.
Protest dreaming.
Anti – war scheming.
Why wont it come to me.
That beloved Massacree.
Must hear it, I pine.
A true carving of mine.
Not heard it in fifty years.
It used to bring tears.
So much laughter.
Hidden truth comes after.
Who could the artist be?
Ahh, I know – Arlo Gruthrie.
Now I know the song.
I can play it, sing along.
Revive the peace birds.
I know all the words.
Its exactly what I want.
Its Alice’s Restaurant!
Why should the mimic apologize?
Where are the cupboards?
Where are the wages?
Where is the tailor? I had
no use for algebra, I knew it-
in as much incognito on a prefabricated track,
in order that....
free thinking then supposing,
til warning for dreamless help provided,
a typewritten treat from this meditative cell on
a bi-directional night, just as incensing this layer, once
shouting, against kaleidoscoped winds...
Will the dubious cartoon walk on top of the comparison?
or will the prevailing keystroke provoke a smashing debt?
Their marriage possessed an alcoholic copyright.
just as the about face twists the rear....
A wizard paces..... surveying the blackboard
just when a scholar stands,
and rocks across a page, so that unless
Some author squeezes, a western dialect,
lest now his leisure violates,
a once welcomed, road of gold on the critical side, in as much until
and even faster still, a projecting spontaneous cricket,
now in a graveyard embarrassed by his wasteful song,
messy thoughts, broken prized belief,
sweeping away the cheat,
disregarding the window from the top,
so that a porter yawns,
outside the offending captor, who wears a wolf pendant,
underneath the inside havoc, if only
the technology collapses before
the funerals, thick attack, talk on top,
of frozen outlines, and a leather sofa cracked,
from opinions changing, as correspondence leaked,
so behind smoke, a fire of desire lurking near the conflicting repertoire,
next to the guilty bystander, raining like a thief, now interferes, who
stirs the sticks... across the crossroads,
Can the music spin the guilty onto a bandwagon until the other staggering strangers advancing,
to the next fizzy, dizzy, bog...
while guides await in order to assault corrupted fantasies,
beside crystal strips, where rusty knights in armor, sitting on a park bench
trying every half measure,
disturbing breezes,
in the haze of memories. Stir these random thoughts and let their impressions talk to you and one another.
Who knows how the mind really works?
I got lost again
in childlike wonder
Looked for seashells
while listening to thunder
The rain it came
soaked me to the core
I paid it no mind
while exploring the shore
I removed my clothes
too wet to wear
Laughed and skipped
danced without a care
The troubles of the world
slipped from my shoulders
My adult responsibilities
and mountain of folders
On a secluded beach
with childlike glee
I discovered the essence
of who I used to be.
Blank pages of life - spontaneous, unscripted, undefined
Experiences uncovers blues and rhymes one couldn't find
Begin to indite, though endings pave unsure and unplanned
Culture, law, ethics and education; man learns and understand
Defining, refining and reminding they try to do to mankind
Blank pages of life - spontaneous, unscripted, undefined
Attempt to break traditions,"outside tries", don't be confined
Falling and committing mistakes will not leave anyone behind
Begin to indite, though endings pave unsure and unplanned
Reach for something in the distance, consider a wise stand
Drench without inhibitions, "LA VITA E BELLA" bear in mind
Blank pages of life - spontaneous, unscripted, undefined
Anxieties, fear, poverty and inferiority they can blind
Yet, live! live! embrace whole life! don't ever decline!
Begin to indite, though endings pave unsure and unplanned
Remember! NOT everyone can be given a fair second chance
Affectionate at heart and sagacious mind, manage to combine
Blank pages of life - spontaneous, unscripted, undefined
Begin to indite, though endings pave unsure and unplanned
BY:
olive_eloi
2:14 am
03/28/2014
CONTEST: Rhyme Battle: Round 4 Free Poetry Contest Details
SPONSOR: JULI - MICHELLE
6TH PLACE
The ties of time and tide bestride
the man who is defined by
clock and compass.
He who embraces spontaneity
and keeps a happy heart
will garner more good will
than over-planning ever could provide.
There are times when the splendor of life come’s out of know where.
Like a guest of wind.
You become amazed by your existence and of the moments before you.
It catch’s your mind and soul, with a sense of bewilderment.
I think it’s the spontaneity of the minute that makes it so special.
It maybe just a few brief minutes or more, just long enough to make you appreciate that moment more so from the rest of the day.
A natural high that is so unique to
our existence and that of life we experience daily.
It’s uniquely different from trips to the woods, beaches or vacations that are premeditated.
Where you also enjoy the beauty of nature and of life.
A very precious time that is so unique to my existence.
Paul Arnold … 02/16/2016
The ties of time and tide bestride
the man who is defined by
clock and compass.
He who embraces spontaneity
and keeps a happy heart
will garner more good will
than over-planning ever could provide.
A quoted warning tells us, “haste makes waste.”
Perhaps not so- denied by nature's sway.
Life spontaneity survives post-haste;
on this, God-given souls likewise convey.
Our inner selves are fashioned to express
impulsiveness to grasp life and to share.
No time to pause and study, then digress;
must implement its joys with timely care.
So, in-the-moment action follows through
when partnered with the heart to lead the mind;
as when a child gifts dandelions to you-
picked quickly from the lawn with love assigned.
And so, forethought oft kills that magic spell-
which acts of spontaneity impel.
SPONTANEITY
Like nature working
inside from out,painted feelings
impressions..from within
drip by drip An abstract
creation pure form in colour
A spontaneous, frieze to and
fro,high then low ,back and forth
so off chance, large scale ;
a web of paint,layer on layer,
Drop by drop-one by one
out of the unconscious mind
to arrive as a statement ,alive
in the here and now;
Colour on canvas remade
Listen to me read this poem aloud on youtube under name of ichthyschiro
In the
Spontaneity
Of life and death
Separation's
Beauty appears as
Illusive time and space..
This may seem
A resurrection story
Spontaneously
Expressing...