Best Three Dimensional Poems
The sun’s sparkling streaks,
of sangria grace,
descend upon
the malachite verdant valley;
world of pristine mountains,
and evergreen tales of
rainbow hued meadows.
Where medieval castles
are guarded with a fragrant
fortress of blushing flowers,
enveloped in topaz gold beams.
She walks along the
fields of redolent reveries,
where hope sprouts
like the rising moon-
whispering secrets to
the whimsical wind,
in mystical musicality,
whilst butterflies
rest upon her ebony hair,
choreographing a
three dimensional
ballet in ethereal delight,
cradling and mirroring the
dancing spirit in
emerald elegance.
Her chrysalis heart
nurtures their sanctuary
with sanguine serenades,
for she is the queen
of azure wings,
dressed in timeless mists;
her mind is wrapped
in kaleidoscope clouds
draped in pearl crescent dust,
fluttering and twirling with
twinkling stars between
fragile thin veins,
like delicate petals
woven from a tapestry
of thriving dreams.
Yet the sound of
unsung songs drift
along shadowed skies-
of champagne and
rosemary rays,
fleeting like waning colors,
longing to spread floral arms,
to sketch watercolor
paintings from
dandelion desires-
to be heard and seen
beyond the creek of thorns
and thistles,
as peacock feathers soar
amongst petrichor leaves swaying
to the celestial tunes of her life-
amidst raining regrets
a devoted warrior never lets
eclipsed spheres dim
their light upon her sight.
He used to be three dimensional
and then he became two
I know it seems far fetched
But I’m telling you it’s true
In two dimensions
he could still depict three
If people didn’t look to closely
They’d believe what they’d see
His paper thin personality
once colourful and cool
Gradually became faded
no longer able to fool
Winds of change kept blowing
Two dimensions turned into one
Without any depth there
one was destined to be none
Not a soul remembers him
He simply faded away
A whisper from yesterday
Who had nothing real to say
A paper man
Under paper clouds
The sky is falling
and he doesn’t know why
His edges are folded
He feels he’s undone
There isn’t any warmth
from a paper sun
Cellophane grass
Cardboard under feet
He has a paper girlfriend
With a paper heartbeat
His feelings feel flat
Just a few wrinkles
Paper snow is falling
A tinfoil star twinkles
A world of my creation
I just want to feel
Hoping my sky won’t fall
Nothing feels real
I’m three dimensional
Under a real sky
There’s hope beyond clouds
When my mind tries to lie
So I grasp for happy
A bit of pleasure too
Even when it’s not easy
It’s just what I do.
Inspired by a friend.
As men we are taught to keep our feelings to ourselves and suffer in silence. In 2012 I went through depression and it took me a long time to look for help. When our feelings are flat and the world feels two dimensional, seek help and reach out to a friend. There are people who love us. There is no reason to suffer in silence. Colour returned to my world and I am thankful. The sky didn’t fall even though in the moment it felt so real.
I travelled to the world of figments
A place of two dimensional beauty
Air brushed perfection
I tried to look beyond manufactured proportions
Pasted on smiles
Glowing skin
I did not belong there
Not tall enough
Broad enough
I smiled my crooked smile
Reached out to touch a hand
Caress a perfect breast
Kiss those luscious lips
She vanished from my finger tips
No substance there
In the land of perfect hair
Sexy eyes that stare
Yet no one is there
Just a figment of my mind
In a studio designed
Yet sadly for us
Figments seem so real
They effect
The way we feel
We can never get enough
We dress like them
We want their stuff
Searching for those hollow dreams
Amongst the pages of a magazine
Trying to create the perfect scene
I must Step away
Clear my mind
Choose a pathway redefined
Chase what's real
Not fab design
Those empty dreams were never mine
Figments can never satisfy
Two dimensions are cold and dry
What they call a dream
Is all a lie
I take back my life
So that I can fly
The power of the media makes people feel less than they are.
Time to take back the power and see ourselves in a new light.
Embrace three dimensional beauty and strive to be the one
and only incomparable one of a kind.
Just past
where the world of the atom ends
there are spaces that we try to fill
or pretend they don't exist.
Hollows that harbor silence
or an unshaped need,
the imprint of something
the mind can't conceive.
Music makes its way there
and knocks on the door,
takes its seat to hear
the sublime and capture
in glorious notes
what can't be said
in words. The chords
of creation sound
in the chambers of the ear.
Poetry goes there
with its clumsy feet, trying
to fit the formless into a cage,
give beauty a face,
fumbling to shape shadows
into three dimensional space.
And yet it is the word
that brings things into being,
gives each its sacred name.
Language the blunt instrument
of the poet's art,
the poem a sanctum
to house the holy embers
of creations spark.
I am a large woman,
Broad lovely hips,
Soft round belly,
Big luscious lips.
Wherever I go,
People take notice of me,
Let them gawk,
At my massive beauty.
People that laugh,
Think they cause me dismay,
Too small to perceive,
The femininity I convey.
I am like a mountain,
Exuding simple grace,
Too vast and three dimensional,
To be considered commonplace.
I am a large woman,
With pride I stand tall,
I don't take up too much room,
This world's just too damn small.
IMAGINATION
Closed eyes; under a locked prism of unavailable light
subjects our third eye to mind's internal creation;
imagined images viewed by non-existent senses
on an opague three dimensional screen.
In an algorithm of shedded particle waves
Insight quickly fades back into a darkened vision
of only half a picture without reflection.
It leaves with us a broken trail of possibilities
new thoughts, new choices, changes in destiny
warily made under duress of immediacy
trying to conceive a canvas framed
by the hand of God.
It is in response to these panchromatic memories
held back by the sun's blackened light,
that we clearly notice how the prism
reflects an undercurrent. of shadeless secrets
different than the realm of visionary colors.
Sensory detections relinquish an uncompleted picture.
The image within, at times, may reveal an idea.
the transmission of which however placed
when received should strive to become an emotional
mover of otherwise placid thinking where wizened leaders
can in causes wept in sorrow from yesterday's sadness
proclaim a hope for a brighter tomorrow.
INTERPRETATION:
When our eyes are shut tight, there is no light or vision.
We are limited to what we see with our inner mind.
Nevertheless there is an internal sense,
a feeling of a creative process going on.
It occurs as insight and often fades into a clouded vision
of a thought picture barely perceived within.
When we leave the path of contemplative thinking,
we lose the benefit of what could have been.
The choices we make are usually expedient
and we struggle to determine
what it is that we really want.
Often we are faced and challenged by outside forces
many of which we deflect as we espouse our point of view
without exploring all the possibilities.
We see what could be and would like to be
hoping that it will make a difference.
and help humanity move forward
to a brighter tomorrow.
CAK 5-23-2103
Tears blur my eyes
Wet my cheeks, fall on paper
Cause the ink to run
Like a crystal the tear drops
Glitter
Crystal yes you my dear
You rose of optical circumstance
Brilliantly changing color at every
Glance
You light of relaxation giving energy
to solemn soul
Your petals full in the harmony
Of life
Your three-dimensional beauty
Surpassed only by your love
Understanding and friendship
Friendship,
That immortal bundle of joy
We were friends who fell in love
We are lovers who are friends
What happiness we share
How could I shatter you my dear
My Crystal-Rose
My love my friend
Earl S. Jackson
Apr 1985
Copyright © 2006 Earl S. Jackson, all rights reserved.
I, too, dislike poems.
I’ve tried runes (and rampikes)
but that’s affected
rather than merely effete.
So I call them
figments.
When people query
What do you write?
at a barbecue or birthday party
I say soliloquies,
fractals,
fragments.
Self-similarities,
singularities,
sculptures (scriptures), geometric shapes and series,
three dimensional triangles, spheres
and differential equations,
fractured fairy tales,
Rocky and Bullwinkle,
rectal impactions.
On the other hand,
bits, bots, bytes
remnants, scrap, earth
gobs of phlegm in grains of sand,
shards of glass in a slice of hell,
hunks and clumps, curds and whey, sleet and pain, slap in the face
sub-atomic particles, cell organelles,
chunks of energy, cookie crumbs,
rusty trucks stuck in mud, dustings for ghosts,
just plain dumb luck, rocks, concrete, but not tweets.
You read the title correctly,
I realize that everyone's entitled to their own opinion
But, please read the entire story before you decide
Yes, I fell in love with a one eyed Minion
Like most of you I really enjoyed Despicable Me
and in it there was this one little guy
a bit shorter in stature, hair parted in the middle
Deep sigh. love at first sight with a Minion with one eye
His name was Stuart, and he was so playful and intelligent
I knew I was smitten, but alas he wasn't real
And although I could say the same about some humans...
I could not show this Minion fellow how I really feel
Wishful thinking flooded my mind
as I curled up in a comfortable chair, tired, but not sleepy
Next thing I know I appeared to be computer animated...
yet three dimensional...and yes I'll admit, it was a bit creepy
And there they were, a pack of Minions in the park
surging forward as one, looking for another leader
Then I saw Stuart nudge Bob and say, "That's her!
That's the babe that was checking me out in the theater!"
I was surprised that his speech lacked that familiar Minion dialect...
Stuart stood on a bench, and gave me the sweetest little kiss
He said, "I have noticed you in the movies, dozens
of times, but never thought I'd see you like this!"
Initially embarrassed that he knew I've watched him so often
the shame subsided as I spent the day at his place
We dined on banana flambe...and drank frothy banana shakes
Afterwards he serenaded me with a ukulele, with such style and grace
After dark, we took a stroll back to the park
Laying in the grass, I couldn't decide which shined more bright
the stars in the sky, or the twinkling in his eye
How I wished it could be this way every night
Stuart told me he thought humans were a glorious species
and that he loved me with all his heart
if it weren't for our differences in composition
we would never ever be apart
Then the sky and the ground began to buckle
All at once I was taken completely unaware
Instead of snuggling on the grass
I was reclining on that comfortable chair
I haven't seen him that way since,
I guess blu ray or dvd will just have to do
Although I miss him terribly, at least we had that one delightful day
Yes, I fell in love with a one eyed Minion, you do believe me..don't you?
2/25/16
That three-dimensional solid so symmetrical,
Suggests how life could be - understandable,
With only six faces, all square for equal sides,
And a formulae to describe what makes us stable.
This staple of stability is taken, unchallenged and assumed -
The rational is included unthinkingly in life’s plethora:
Carted to anchor that which horrifies and saddens,
And bread to float and strike chords which harken.
You can also make a cube into a sphere,
That circular goddess that looks like a globe,
Reminiscent of the earth’s fullness and dwelling,
With freedom, liberty and happiness so giving.
It has space, dimensions and co-ordinates,
And its tesseract is plottable on a graph;
Other polyhedra can be related to it
Its symmetry mutations of tilings laugh.
Understanding and sense derive themselves well -
You can't laugh at the cube’s skeleton;
Furnished, not flawed or gaunt by posture,
It's structure sits regally for exposure.
Descriptions are it's glory, that flushing realism,
The Cubism movement pushed academic boundaries;
Said that paintings can be made of shapes and cubes,
Which built a monument to reductionism’s theories.
That we can be reduced down to basic matter,
Particles, atoms, cells and molecules,
Is cubism's gust and enterprise for all,
Who gather so as to hear its paintings flatter.
I love cubes, and always have,
They’ve offered hope in times of despair;
Their eloquence and beauty spark with naturalism,
With natural life’s inevitable repair.
A is for algebra, where numbers are represented by letters
B is for base, a base ten number system is much better
C is for circle, it goes round and round
D is for degree, in a circle, 360 are found
E is for equation, an assertion of the equality of two expressions
F is for fraction, it's the ratio of two expressions
G is for graph, a diagram showing the relationship betwen two numbers
H is for hypotenuse, a triangle's longest side, easy to remember
I is for integer, positive or negative numbers that are whole
J is for justification, proof of a solution, so I'm told
K is for kilometer, that's almost a mile
L is for line, it has one dimension and can go on for a while
M is for median, the most common value in a group
N is for numerator, its the top number in a fraction, like a hoop
O is for octagon, the number of sides are eight
P is for pentagon, it has five sides and that's great
Q is for quotient, the result of a division
R is for ratio, the relationship between two expressions
S is for square, with equal sides of four
T is for triangle, it has three sides, no more
U is for unit, a standardized quantity
V is for volume, the quantity of a three dimensional entity
W is for whole number of which there are a lot
X is for x- axis, the horizontal axis for coordinates , a plot
Y is for y- axis, the vertical axis a coordinate system brings
Z is for zero , it's not even one thing
We talked about fractions. circles, and squares
Next, we'll explore lions, tigers, and bears
Frog playing violin
Perforated Ceiling Washer
White Dot Wassily Kandinsky
©Rajat Kanti Chakrabarty
16 December 2014
Notes:White Dot was painted in 1923 while Kandinsky was a professor at the Bauhaus. He combined various shades of white which are thought to imply possibilities in life and bold curving shapes of black which portray the antithesis, death. Interspersed are varying shades of red, blue and yellow.
The circle was the perfect shape to Kandinsky and he felt it was "the synthesis of the greatest oppositions". He believed it led to the 4th dimension and was seen throughout many of his works of art during this period. The black circle with the white dot draws the viewer's eye to the upper right of the canvas with an intensity that is broken by the "squiggled" black line that bisects the canvas on the diagonal. The triangles as well as other shapes appear throughout the piece broken by diagonal black lines. Not only do layered planes of color give this two-dimensional painting depth but tonal variations of color on a given shape lends a three dimensional feel as well.
Kandinsky's connection to music is felt as the riot of colors and various shapes can be compared to the arrangement of musical notes. The combination of angles and curved lines as well as bold color and shaded forms imbue the painting with energy and one could expect to hear a symphony resonating off the canvas.
'Twas a night before Blue Light Specials, when all through Ebay
Not a bargain was found, not even an iPod
The stockings were empty and coupons in disarray
In hopes that Uncle Sam will bring me a rod
The children were angry: "We want our money!!!"
With visions Three Dimensional dancing in their heads
I, mamma, in my 'kerchief pulling hair looked so funny
Had to get second job selling relaxing, cool beds...
When out in the driveway arguments and loud chatter
I sprang out of my office, see neighbor and Repo Santa
I went out to calm them and asked what was the matter
"Need to get his wheels", said he while drinking a "Fanta"
And away Santa flew, ere he drove out of sight
"Happy Christmas to all, and to all a Good Night!"
For Carolyn's Contest: "Commercialized Holiday Humor Contest"
On the western horizon where the sun goes to bed,
there stands the Canadian Rockies,
so majestic in size,
solid and immovable,
yet fluid and ever-changing.
I am awed by their beauty,
the way the sun reflects off the snow,
making them seem closer than they really are,
a three-dimensional monolith sitting in my own backyard,
sometimes shrouded in clouds,
or resting under the halo of the sun,
while their crevasses hide in the shadows.
At times a mist covers their peaks,
and they are subdued,
as if a veil has been pulled across the landscape,
making them seem distant and one-dimensional,
a flat backdrop at the edge of a rolling prairie.
And as the sun sets beyond this mighty fortress of rock,
painting a canvass of red, pink and orange,
the mountains sit in silhouette,
dark and foreboding,
as if hiding a secret deep within their walls.
Spring now gently invades this frozen rock,
and as the snow melts,
the hillsides turn green,
and palettes of colour dot the meadows.
The mountains are alive with movement,
new birth,
struggles for survival,
and death.
The cycle of life is being played out in their bosom,
yet from a distance,
as I survey their silent grandeur,
they appear to be indifferent to the drama taking place within.
Spring becomes summer,
penetrating much of this rugged world,
but the highest peak is buried in ice year-round,
a giant glacier,
the birthplace of mighty rivers.
I have stood on that glacier,
drank from its cold, clear waters,
as they cascade down the ice,
water so pure,
as if the world is new,
and being touched for the very first time,
a frozen paradise,
a fragile cradle of microscopic life.
I love these mountains,
for their beauty never tires,
and I am content to live in their shadows.
*For the Love Of Nature contest*