Best Superimposed Poems
The twinkling stars light up the Night,
creating a magical sight.
And a rising moon starts to glow,
against the black backdrop of space.
Held in Night's ebony embrace,
Luna's light gilds the clouds below.
Visible to the naked eye,
shooting stars zip through the Night sky.
And spinning perceptively slow,
the Milky Way seems surreal;
a spiraling galactic wheel
superimposed on Night's shadow.
The twinkling stars light up the Night,
so far away, and yet still bright.
Quasars and pulsars, twirling fast,
appear to flicker as they spin.
Once these pulsating lights begin:
their true beauty is unsurpassed.
The universe is God's domain:
somethings we can't, as yet, explain.
We don't know how long it will last:
it might well expand forever.
We see no end, whatsoever:
all that we know is that it's vast.
Look up and behold the grandeur
of a jewel-encrusted sky,
swaddled in velvety velour.
Categories:
superimposed, 10th grade, beautiful, imagery,
Form:
Verse
HIPPOCAMPUS SADDLED IN DAYDREAMS
Hippocampus saddled in the vast sea, one of God’s superimposed dreams.
In miniature form these seahorses be, an aquatic burst of genius it seems.
Hippocampus in old Flossie form, spotted from the Scottish shores.
A frightful nightmare, not the norm, thus shiver in my corporeal core.
If mermaids had thighs to tighten around their bony scales,
would that they be fight’n where the shipshape sailor fails.
Seducing sirens hiss upon the sea monster’s back with songs that rage
to lead in armageddon attack, to place mankind in a flaming cage.
4/20/2018
Julia Ward’s Seahorses
Categories:
superimposed, fantasy, image,
Form:
Couplet
Picture, if you will, two orbs of light
where dreams and reality embrace.
Both lie at the darkest edge of Night,
superimposed on ebony space.
Sharing shades of a violet hue,
they seamlessly brush darkness away.
And as more colors come into view,
they adorn the Night's starry array.
Similarly, they flaunt paradise,
dual sanctuaries shining bright.
Presenting Eden, not once but twice,
offering a choice of left or right.
One shows signs of people living there:
fellow humans imbued with a soul.
Yet, it's hard to see past what both share:
and the wrong choice could levy a toll.
Both worlds are equally lush and green:
yet only one hints at human lives.
On the left, a garden can be seen
while on the right, only nature thrives.
Choose between two mirrors hung on black,
decide before you step through that glass.
For, unlike Alice, there's no way back
from where souls exist; or souls trespass.
Categories:
superimposed, anxiety, fantasy, image, mirror,
Form:
Quatrain
THE FAR VIEW
Of this quaint mountain village sparks a longing strain lay dormant these many years. Was it some childhood visit, one too early to recall, or existence in another life? The two, to my searching soul, ever close together.
A white steeple pokes through, rising from a wealth of green. The instant sensation, deja vu. I’m standing at the edge of Castle Lookout – so said a sign – a mountain promontory surrounded by jack pine, and the cozy little town – if you could call it a town – lay half buried in verdant summer wealth, purple mountains distant. All one may see of dwellings are white sidings and reddish roofs, save for one large two-story quite near. I could swear I see a lad and his dog on a patch of meadow But no. He’s disappeared.
A flash! An instant panoramic spectacle, an all encompassing vision covers, blots-out the town, the distant purple mountains, every waking sight. I am playing with the lad and his dog, throwing a stick for some fetch it game. His name is, Tommy, and I know him well, both he and his family. And for just that instant – superimposed – I walk those village streets, hear a park band in the square and wave at familiar folk. It has been given when a person falls from some high place his whole life strings into consciousness. Yes, but this too-real-apparition has other-worldly quality. No childish imagination pervades the montage. It is that of my mature self, save playing with the boy and his dog, which reaches back even more mysteriously. I sense all at very depth of soul. The traveler is not my present self. He has appeared from some other port of call too distant in time to name.
Now I’m back, visitor on a whim, and deigned experience what few have gone the crystal ball route. How polar different I feel walking back to my car. I am almost reluctant to leave, the two-entity identity still with me, but I get in, start her up, and drive onto the highway with a wide-eyed shrug for that glimpse of transcendental history.
Dave Austin
Categories:
superimposed, time,
Form:
Narrative
By Vicki Acquah on Thursday, April 18, 2013
Prince Kennedy & Oladeji Vicki Acquah
Disappeared
We- are gone
diluted into oblivion
we have nothing left but our footprints
The handwriting is no longer on the wall
The noses are broken off
we are no longer us
Obscurely written out of
life's script, no future roles to play.
The primitive man and all modern
day caveman - and sand men have
forgotten the people of the soil-and
the trees and the water and the mountains
women behaving _nonchalantly___
as they watch -us being erased;
Written out of history.
What is left of us
we who write poetry
that does not impress wealth,
they eat, we die -- they drink
we go thirsty, they make
merry with their Dirty sex;
While we imitate our exterminators.
we disappear with
broken noses and borrowed hair
We are no more.
Our costumes died
then our children
with no past and no future
we are no more~~~~
Now that we are being
created by our scribes;
penned down ages before we could
realize that our solemn but
equivocal art, superimposed
with fervent sentences bore
more intonations & meanings
than maidenly sought;
We lie within our meditative silences.
Reminiscing the helter,skelter and
dither, through which our stories
were told in words.
While the strokes by our quills
fade & shiver to sheer posterity
but eventful mileages;
We beseech this forthcoming generation
To voice out in unison the
unfinished phrases, but clauses
yet again.We are now no more.
Although there were a few scattered
prospects yet to be achieved;
we lie abed not asunder,
With no regret or fear or whatsoever
We are no more.
Only in fiction shall we meet
To play our parts with unsung aptitude.
As our styles are pursued;
Until then, we are no more.
As life still beckons on
with trajectories being preached
but sold,We pray you, this age
that celerity & glee fuel your
palms but gumption's with
deepened emotions & thinking caps.
As the die is cast,
Till the results are known;
We are now no more!
Categories:
superimposed, art, emotions, racism, writing,
Form:
Free verse
I suppose you've been wondering
Why your eyes don't smile anymore.
Why your once radiant optimism
has drowned in concrete mud.
Why the future, even tomorrow,
suddenly tastes so bitter
on your palate.
Why the rainbow is frowning
at you; all the colors,
besmirched.
Why your view of the horizon
and your mind has been shrouded
by a thick, blinding miasma.
Why the howl of the wind
leaves your skin
icy-cold,
frozen stiff,
even though winter has since
flown away with snow buntings.
Why your sunny days
have been superimposed
by the blackest umbra of twilight.
Why the sun seems so distant
that its rays no longer touch your face.
It's because...
I've stolen every scintilla
of your joy and happiness
I've trampled on
your spirit and high hopes.
Who am I?
I'm the enemy without mercy
I'm the cackling demon
gleefully clipping off
the brittle wings of hope
you're clutching onto.
Categories:
superimposed, dark, depression, mental illness,
Form:
Personification
It's a term coined
for the times
propelled by actions
ceremoniously indulged
whimsically by the populace.
It's growing daily,
masses in tune
bubbling to surface
rife with rebellion.
Senseless conventions
imposed by the machine,
discrepancies enlightened
with blinding rays
of rationality
superimposed upon circumstances.
Keeping up the fight
against all odds
baffling to mindfulness
as they scramble to react
to tides of mistrust.
Categories:
superimposed, freedom, patriotic, society,
Form:
Free verse
Drifting through the millennium
to a world
of surprises and delight
You think about
what the future beholds
beyond the remedial
circumstances driven by
perseverance, thoughts
scholastically superimposed
upon realities drudgery
when you understand
it's all whimsy
upheld by rules, laws
etched into meanderings
circulating the realm
beyond your wildest imagination
you drift through
turmoils of preponderance
into a life
of no regrets
or misunderstandings
just wishing you
hadn't done
some things.
Categories:
superimposed, destiny, humanity, introspection, psychological,
Form:
Free verse
I blink my eyes and then the world is gone.
Open once again to see some peons upon the lawn.
They came to hear the Lion yawn and swipe a wife by dawn.
That's why I keep my pride and believe,
to conceive that it's respite is my reprieve.
But you yuppies be just mere pawns in the grand scheme;
placed at rank 2 file C.
I treat myself to treats I don't need to ask the priest.
I fill a lady's niche when God's dead like Friedrich Nietzsche.
I'm an autonomous man, the world needs me.
Due to greedy deeds, I lost the lot of you to petty thievery.
Now standing orthogonal to the bishop you orthodox Cis.
Tearing holes in the fabric of time while mother nature sits and knits that.
Amidst a scrimmage over minish mishaps, fisticuffs and misfired mitts with whiplash.
Hexed by wind and turbulent syntax.
As activists vehemently flail at the fascist crux; only to be met by impasse.
Making my attempt to love exclusively an outward expression;
a barrage of affection bombarding the good intentions of a meta-man’s vision.
Otherwise known as fortified Freudian defense mechanisms.
To deal with ideals in an asymmetric system.
Oh but I pray praise that I am what I be.
Hallow thy be virile amongst a creed of faulty seeds.
Yet I’m an enantiomer, a Chiral Beast;
my courage can never be superimposed upon the fear of defeat.
Finally granted with the Coupe de Gras when disagreements meet.
As if graced by chance, I advance with the apex of a Sword’s vertice.
Striking clean from the left to then evade your deceit.
I take a seat while a woman cleans my wounds with peace.
Ahh but even in victory, the warrior’s woe must be debriefed.
Categories:
superimposed, anger, conflict, courage, hyperbole,
Form:
Free verse
Every man holds two faces, yes two faces
That his persona always carries and displays
The outer one, a facade that is very artificial
The inner represents the original and normal.
The physical is superimposed on the natural
That alternates with circumstances congenial
The real always conceals behind the artificial
And presents the synthetic for public approval.
The face that looks composed, might harbour
A volcano alive with agitating feelings, bitter
And another which looks seemingly disquiet
Might, be revelling in the tranquility of spirit.
Hence it is difficult to judge any human being
By his outward appearances not withstanding
To know the true being behind the impression
It certainly calls for a keen, penetrative vision.
The extensive observation of human attitudes
Has formed the basis of a widely held maxim
That the appearances are certainly deceptive
So never judge any person by his expressions.
Categories:
superimposed, analogy, conflict, dark,
Form:
Free verse
A clear view of the Arabian blue
I don’t ‘inch’ closer, I ‘mile’ ahead
In a relaxed cockpit, shared by two.
A proud teacher, my knowledge I spread
‘To fly they must have flown before’
Break this infinite loop; I choose instead
Let them learn, I don’t keep score.
Even if mistakes are made;
To make them like me, I will ignore.
The airstrip is small, a challenging glade.
Mangalore approaches, I flew from Dubai,
My fingers remain crossed, I am little afraid.
The plane crashes, sixty and hundred die.
I teach others rules. But rules - to me they don’t apply.
Based on the theme from the novel Airframe from Michael Crichton superimposed on the ill-
fated plane crash Air India Express Flight 812, on 22 May 2010.
Categories:
superimposed, death, history, introspection, loss,
Form:
Terza Rima
[Our perspective]
Blackness superimposed by glowing blue
Smearing white spiraling cloud icings
Appearing applied by a painter’s hand
Soon to stretch and then to transform
As eventually will happen with all belief systems
The curvature and reflection of oceans
Vast emerald forests and rolling plains
Attesting to generations of hopes and uncertainties
Poverty, lost loves and sparkling newborn eyes
Shadowed by the serenity and wisdom of wrinkled faces
The fluid motion of our sliding blue oval
Across the windshields of descending spaceships
Eyes viewing us as we view our enemies
Our protests falling upon deaf ears
Receiving the same mercy as we have given
Rounding us up for grotesque consumption
With no regard to status or creed
Another food farm for galactic supermarkets
Where the cries of our children fade
Outcries unheeded by universal apathy
Being dragged kicking and screaming
From a cage of indignities
Fear so great we urinate our pants
Praying to God for deliverance
Oh God, help me, please, please, please!!!
[Their perspective]
They cling to their beliefs, don’t they?
Yes, whatever idea is most popular
That’s what they always call “faith”
Their mind is just like a computer
But with a richer and much tastier texture
Faith? So they think they’re right?
Sure do, right into my stomach, hahaha
Christians and Muslims, they both call us Satan
Pretty much, they taste about the same
But they’re not the tastiest of all
The lawyers are the tenderest
See, they’ve never done an honest day’s work
Bring me that one right there
“Now wait a minute, let’s talk this thing over”
Let’s don’t, but if you like we can say we did
Crunch, crunch, crunch, gulp
Categories:
superimposed, imagination
Form:
I look within my bag, and baggage more unquenched desires.
N erve wrecking mental state, thus illogically surmounts.
T he wisdom of sages to simplify life ends in absurd futility.
R ather than emptying my burden, I trudge along heavier.
O ptimistic spirits flag at half mast with added expectations.
S oul's agony increases as all choices seem primordial.
P eople and their superimposed views ironically carry more value.
E ach breath, thus hisses heavily to keep up that image with fleeting time.
C aution is blown asunder with the pleasurable deluge of being constantly affected.
T ransparency through our traits help us to know ourselves better for intellectual purity
I nner view of our dilemmas and ripping apart our masques is essential to peace.
O ur own self awareness has to be critically analysed to realise what is to be valued.
N onetheless, self introspection is a beep which debates to create order out of chaos.
June 24, 2016
For John Hamilton
Introspection-Acrostic
Categories:
superimposed, desire, peace,
Form:
Acrostic
dismissively lined as "dented and painted"
protesting violence and raping of women
those self-appointed, oh holy and sainted
can we turn another cheek and forgive them?
to relate to another with an iron-bar
to relate to another with utter disdain
to relate to another without human care
is this the civility we wish to attain?
you who are better, more worthy than other
you who are truer, in eyes of your god
you with blood bluer than natural mother
might discern that it's you, who is flawed
sticks, or bars, or clenched fists attest
that you're no better than the rest with
casting of glances from eyes that detest
superimposed superiority is but a myth
want and ignorance are alive and strong
in all nations, so in all the world today
actually, it's been that way - all along
if we wish to civilize we must go all the way
and speak for every individual that spins
on this ball of rock that we call our home
to evolve higher form we must be, in the end
and remember, what is reaped, is what is sown
© Goode Guy 2012-12-29
http://www.npr.org/blogs/thetwo-way/2012/12/28/168224273/victim-of-brutal-rape-in-india-dies-in-singapore-hospital?ft=1&f=1001
http://www.npr.org/2012/12/28/168185857/india-gang-rape-update
http://www.npr.org/blogs/thetwo-way/2012/12/22/167879878/unprecedented-public-rage-over-gang-rape-in-india
Categories:
superimposed, angst, forgiveness, introspection, loss,
Form:
Quatrain
As I breathe, I hope
for a better tomorrow
As I blink, I can cope
with the promise I borrow
In through the nose
and out through the mouth
Palimpsest superimposed
Arrow pointed south
My mind is scattered
like seeds on a field
Insulted, yet flattered
When it is congealed
I sigh as I exhale
From resting on the peak
Enjoying the details
That make life oblique
I make my camp here
High above the world
The only volunteer
To see the cerulean pearl
To see it as an ache
in Atlas' great side
As an earthquake
At Sisyphus' bedside
As a twinkle in God's eye
and sand in Satan's shoe
As matter liquefied
And a divine preview
Categories:
superimposed, analogy, beautiful, blessing, day,
Form:
Rhyme