Best Stencils Poems
Tonight, a montage is brushed with a splendor
of glazed branches : an arrangement of russet
teal and orange; dappled wisps enticing
my spirit for a pilgrim beyond my own angst.
In pure delight, tendrils of leaves are aflame
through the glory of a varnished summer.
Feathery rims unfurl in dotted patterns
adorning a cherry tree with iridescent flush
as its arms seem to layout
the stencils of hours' burdens.
Yet, miniature stars flicker on its robe
this cherry timber blowing heavenward,
perhaps content in the radiance
of its caressed blooms and harvest,
glazed by rapture of nature's lasting charm .
...................
Brian Strand's Whitsun Premiere Contest
time cloaked fierce wrath
I gave up the past or the wind
wipe the chill off my flesh
bury the sun in brine
watch the warped beams
an intricate mosaic
bathing inside
the dripping rays
In utter
crystal testimony
pectoriloquy
squiggles sloppy stencils
shattered insights
defiant & resistant
shoreless traveler mood
of
braided stories drifting
left unmarked
unsoiled
knead to the ground
lap up the virgin earth
with
my thirsty soul
tangible
&sprawled
untouched
by the
contaminated
fingers
of
perception.
my
broken
reflection
on
endless pages of poetry
perfectly aligned
melting
into
unrefined masterpiece
1st place contest winner
You Say Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Brian Strand
Books and erasers on pencils
Alphabet and numbered stencils
A plastic chair attached to
A desk reserved just for you
Chalk boards are for taking notes
A cubby for backpacks and coats
Milk and cookies for a snack
Music and stories are fun
Recess in the warm bright sun
Taking naps to get some rest
Learning skills put to the test
Baby dolls--red fire trucks
Show and tell with baby ducks
Time out's by the corner wall
Bandaged boo boo's when you fall
Memories are being made
From this kindergarten grade
Helping you to learn and grow
As each lesson always flows
In your memories and heart
They will never leave or part
stencils of night’s mist
brush your graveyard with ash dye
laying on crushed weeds...
this heart spills a requiem
and my tune—love’s offering.
.....................................
Brian Strand's Contest 245
Swirling vistas of such sweetness found floating through the auspian air ~
Pen to pad calibre idioms beyond the verbs measuring these tidewater inkwells aside
Beauties, evergreen genetives in red, white and pinks, pronounced; Camelots dreams....
Testimonials of daybreak amid the pacific keynotes?!
Her ambient adverb treasures, gently washing upon the shore inside, my thirsting soul ~
These syntax reasonings postulating now their exotic gatherings; stencils
Moonstruck truths at contemporaries point break; subverting the translucent waves
Amplified currents in forms approaching this high tides, ecliptic heart....
Shadows once shimmering their syllables of review; now, a nouns verse!?
Swirling my spirit deep inside this melding aqua paragraphs, seaside melodies; rhymes
In literatures pacific daybreak keynotes ~
Postulating Moonstruck testimonials; syntax reasons floating through the air of this, loves
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
...."Comtemporary Romance Novel?!"
Oh how she blazes more daring
than midsummer, flitting as a woman
whose spirit enters inside my pores
on a clear skyline. Like the glaze
she was born from, Mystic Moon thrusts
her citrine arms fluid, wild, loving;
her feverish way of tasting her own moment
highlighting the stencils of open light;
as she gleams, oh so lusciously!.
Theme #5--The Moon Contest
sponsored by SKAT
I have new boobs, AKA ' belly boobs 'if you will
Diseased ones whacked off, belly fat fill the void
Would really rather have had hemorrhoids
But that wasn't my reality, no triviality
for sure
Got a great deal though
Two for one, cancer gone and tummy tuck
Found the best plastic surgeon by luck
actually he found me
Post op, proud surgeon praised his work
They look amazing, I did a great job
You could wear a bikini with that tummy so tiny
Ahh---no
You would think if you had a belly ache it would be in your boobs
but it's not
You could get stabbed with a pencil or get drawn on with stencils
But at least something is there to give some shape
An absolute TEN I would rate
They're kinda lumpy and bumpy
but help me not look too frumpy or dumpy
in my clothes
No more ultrasounds or thoughts abound
of careless cells placing one in peril
Or biopsies or missed diagnoses
Leading to destruction then autopsy
Disease free--YIPPEE !!
Cloaked in black she sat
with covered eyes from a broad rimmed hat.
Encircled in a wispy shade of cerise
that dripped to fade into the fleece.
Lines that linger on the chair
follow her finger like liquid air
as she stencils out the curlicue
depicted with pencils in her view.
Down the wall with a dilatory slither
and intent to enthrall by use of his myrrh
he skillfully eluded his own detection
making her mind his chamber of protection.
His volcanic eyes thrust into her thought
erupting the lust she longfully sought
igniting her vision like a candelabrum
an incision devising her to succumb.
Licking the salt from a lover's lips
speaking the scripts in hum
becoming embossed in indium
and forgetting fault of nothing but tongues.
Silhouetting the cast of questions surpassed
indulging in the treasure of temporary leisure.
Her guard was let down as she started to drown
in the light of the fire and her own desire
Unforeseen antecedently.
A scene drawn out by a welcoming invasion
she remains devout to enamouring persuasion
Still life flickering and unceasing to amaze
Like a liquor releasing inward
The inebriating reward of her very own blaze.
Old Times and New
I travel in my wandering mind
To a different day and time
Back to the mid-40's
When a cute young secretary was I.
Back when dresses marked size 14
Are current day skimpy 10s,
That's where this reminiscing poem
Is about to begin.
Copying documents or research for themes
Required an old Xerox machine;
Filled with fluid and a tray
It was the high tech of its day.
Causing just a little bit to splash,
Was an economical duress,
For even a drop of it would make a hole
In a pure silk, wool or cotton dress.
The copies had to be hung and dried,
Sometimes unreadable even then;
Remember those old yellowed pages
You see in old books now and again?
Then there was the mimeograph,
Stencils typed and clicked on a wheel,
I had a cute boy working with me,
I did my best to make him reel.
Old manual typewriters with ribbons,
Underwood, Smith Corona and Remington,
My daddy washed piece by piece in gasoline
Built BC (before computers) or electric ones.
We went through MTST machines and
Computers in air conditioned rooms with ducts,
Before arriving at desk and laptops,
Our paperless society is now recycle bins and trucks
Progress? I don't know - is this primitive now?
Will they really put a chip in our brain
Where we can think a task and still make love.
Has technology made us insane?
Pablo...according to me (Part 1a), read Part 1b to finish
Re Pablo Picasso printmaking exhibition at Bellagio Hotel's Fine Art Gallery.
(1) Left Profile of a Woman with Blue Hair
The lass you slay here rebukes your dogma while submitting to greater cause. I wonder if her soul preempted her locks in route to this blue oblivion.
(2) Woman with a Yellow Necklace
I don't blame you, I'd chase her too. The untamed lass -- part figurine, part conundrum, part hurricane -- who pried, cried and tried your fervor until committing to the menu and after-party.
(3) El Greco's Portrait of a Man with a Ruff
The patience you must have had, I never would. Slicing, dicing, razors slashing this debonair freak, and from the misery of linoleum too. Seems like you took 3rd Grade stencils, dipped them in the blood of barbarians, and chased it with a cocktail of speed, habanero grits and rancor. Well done.
(4) The Painter and His Easel
So it's me, watching you, watching this painter, watching and coloring the world in hope that someone is watching. Eye drops, anyone?
(5) Reclining Woman
If my wife looked like that on the sectional, maybe the dogs might behave, and I might get peace and quiet every once in a while.
(6) Head of a Woman Next to a Window
The pink streak grabs my gut, saying trace my face with grace, then maybe you tackle what I see, what l need. On that note, Windex ever?
..to be continued in Part 1b (because the Soup won't let me post it all here, ugh)...
(8/1/15)
it didn't help
that he was an artist
an actual, painting artist
I stole his stencils
to demonstrate a metaphor
but he swore
that I betrayed him
but I craved him
I craved his closure
and he craved his canvas - me
with his stencils in my hands
I hoped
not for an apology.. no..
but just to retrace his history
gathering this anticlimactic moment
me
painting
him
to be continued . . .
Everything I buy to touch or taste
is made in China, made in China
leave alone my china set, even my toothpaste
is made in China, made in China.
From my pencils to my stencils
to the golden locks on my stylish lockers
all bore labels of 'made in China' in block capitals
and that explains thriving doorbell hawkers.
And for 'economical' me, stuff made in China
does hold a lot of frugal charm
Comes all the way from China, my granny's parka
About 'made in China' I've never had any qualms.
And because I don't intend to fritter away
hard-earned savings on any frippery
for 'made in china' alone shall my purse'n' pocket pay
and don't they play their part perfectly,
both my 'made in China' stereo and frisbee?
And all that 'made in China cutlery and crockery
is just as fragile and breakable as any other
All my life I've stuck to made in China stationery
and their costs haven't been any exorbitant so far.
L
I have seen latest High quality samsung Chinese cellphones
My TV a longlasting decade old, yes chinese Hitachi brand
You can wisely avoid debts and loans
purchasing brand new grand stuff from
the Chinese land
And then to my surprise I discovered
that many people both here and abroad
tended to buy things made in the land of the Great Wall
for similar reasons: esp they're easier to afford.
Ah, I don't like the idea of squandering away
or thoughtless wasting of wealth
No one could ever make a spendthrift out of me
For that would be unhealthy for budget health!
To refrain from prodigality and unfeeling extravagancy
'made in China' seems to me the solution
Let millionnaires make-believe that only the costly has quality
for I ain't gonna buy that pricey notion!
Some have the right to bear arms
But I appreciate pens rather then commotions,
Homicides, aiding in brawls,
Or in middle class genocides
, car alarms, sirens in the distant horizon
Of my suburban neighborhood
Hearing echoes of shots firing. Some folk’s fiend for resources
I creep and hunger for lines and ink,
Rather than the staggering alcoholic
Begging for free drinks.
Lines can heal hollow insides,
Congested with negativity
I the young chap run to creativity.
I never ran home but rather run to those black and white pages,
Pages that don’t judge my past activity
or the thoughts in my noggin,
Knocking down metaphors calm my soul
I climbed Mount Everest,
I’ve survived marches, hostile riots,
Doors slammed in my face
Which are buried in the red sand in my left hand stapled together with leather
bonding,
Paperclips and rubber bands.
I breathe to write,
the privilege to breathe free oxygen purchased from Senegal and western coastal
castles
I play with canvases and paint like Monet’s pastels
Equivalent to my revelation of secret memories
Stored and lived from three years less than ¼ a century
I could have been a minor in the upper Marlboro penitentiary writing letters to
mamma,
or fathering multiple of multiples of seeds
Caused by the seduction of the cunning black mambas
, but I chose the right to tote a composition book and a few pencils,
I respect the past
but refuse to emulate and imitate
the other writers tracing history
as a toddler colors outside the lines
, or using stencils.
There is a new manuscript that I carry under my arm,
that reminds me that the third times a charm.
BRUSHED STROKES
~ ~ ~ ~
sunrise reflects liquid eyes on aqua streams
bathing wayfarers dipped in crystal nooks,
as grains of ivory sand sift human dreams
a corinthian-like scene taken from sacred books
splashing brushed strokes with coral strain
this river stencils a tranquil roam,
blessed oath of a sweet virtue remains
curling soft surf, she becomes home.
copyright ©
~ ~ ~ ~
Contest: Brian Strand's POETA... max 15 Lines
By: nette onclaud
Diversity reversibly words verses so vividly;
It switches the pitches and the stitches of our images.
It’s not exact, nor compact in a disk like the bone of a back.
It’s not alliances, nor compliances with every Law from Mount Zion.
And it’s not uniformity, nor conformity to the torn and uninformed world’s formed formality.
But it’s love and it’s hate:
Benevolence, malevolence, and differences toward each other’s pencils and stencils.
It’s Toontown’s toons’ tones tuning to the max and to the minimum.
It’s robbers who bob dollars to top off their pockets’ wallets,
Like Rockerfellar, Penn and Teller, so clever in their endeavors:
Business affiliates who steal to fill their wanting will.
And it’s hard-workers jerkin’ tears, lurkin’ in corn and cotton fields for years,
Stacked packed more than black or white, but a fight to abide by and die
Until the world sees gray shades.
Diversity We are.