Best Transcribing Poems
“You can’t stop the waves, but you can learn to surf.” - Jon Kabat-Zinn
Time has an interesting
way of revealing
riveting narratives,
embossed within ivory
clams in raven letters,
perhaps, it is the
crippling kismet,
that dahlia dreamers are
shackled by society’s
sanctimoniousness,
but I still follow my
roseate heart to swiftly
lead this pristine paragon
of moving minutes.
I can hear the wanton
wolves devour the
magnanimous moon,
transcribing unheard
nocturnal tales, emanating
through deep russet
eyes of a silent stallion~
as I leave poetic footprints
through heels of a black
caviar horse by
the nacreous shoreline.
Someday, the sun will rise
and allow me to embrace
colors of you again,
although torturous tentacles
of marine monsters malevolently
try to steal the soothing hope
within my soul,
from a thousand seas away.
If only they knew, skies
can reach beyond
prancing peacock dreams
emblazoning distant horizons,
with a plethora of
milky quartz, perfumed
in whispers of lemongrass,
reflecting silvery echoes
of a cosmic whale’s conch shell,
floating in an ancient bottle
of antique emotions,
anchored to the depths
of bottomless oceans,
where corals have
our fate rewritten
within chambered nautilus.
So, wait for me when
twilight dims, and meteor
showers come crashing,
to pour blazing stars
upon lime green planktons,
for my soul is surfing
through aquatic realms,
to find my homely
sanctuary in your arms
glossed in lavender balm,
I breathe beneath seraphic spheres,
devouring the ticking seconds,
dancing to the wind that whispers
in trembling tunes,
unafraid and unshaken
by the unknown.
I live in the moment,
celebrating the air that wraps
me in wisteria warmth.
The sun-soaked stairway
to porcelain
peacefulness,
is to steer your heart,
through the art
of mindfulness.
“to veil light we cloaked it in bliss
then intellect and lower mind
fused together as magnetism
in form where truth we seek to find”
~ Unseeking Seeker
You speak of rain’s voice as star-fire,
an invigorating zeal kissing our soul,
while I stroll the shore of love,
inhaling the incense of lucent sage ~
my heart stirs and pulse awakens,
transcribing the touch of timeless tides,
seeking the softness of the sun,
undressing stubborn haze, disrobing ego,
unbuttoning forgotten chakras,
to rise in hot-stone silence…
O divine beacon of infinite bliss,
I breathe the burn of intuitive ink,
engulfing my inner consciousness,
like magnetic metaphors,
flowing in sync with blue rose radiance,
rushing through the river of veins ~
from heart to toe, palm to crown,
revealing handwritten humility…
I yearn to thrive where petals purify,
forsaking the soil of pride,
planting faith in a realm of selfless bloom,
no longer a mindless marionette,
enticed by materialistic mantras ~
for in the form of fortitude
and in the cadence of clarity,
where we seek the strength of truth,
I have learned to trust and obey the breeze
above the fields of felicity,
illuminating the untouched psyche…
-- Re: Gertrude Stein and Alice B. Toklas, Rue de Fleurus #27, Paris --
What would Gertrude. What, Gertrude.What, Gertie?Have thought.Have thought what thought?Thought thought driving,forward,remorselessly.Remorseless Remorse? Forward.Never reverse;no reverse.No.No remorse.
Remorseless,spurning reverse,seated.High!Seated high in Auntie.Then in Godiva seated. Looming.Enormous.
Looming enormous.Unsinister presence. Certain presence.Definite.Definitely not sinister. Positively looming;enormous in brown. Brown,
in brown corduroy,driving Paris.
In Paris,through Paris.Looming high in Paris in Godiva.With Alice,
quiet beside her. Quiet; always, Alice. Alice always.
And zipping, about -- coming to Rue de Fleurus 27.
Zipping to Rue de Fleurus.To 27. And Alice so able.
Able Alice, each a.m. transcribing.Able Alice typing.Automatic Gertrude.
Typing Gertrude.Great Gertrude.GeniusGertrude.Talking Gertrude.
Genius talking.Great brown Gertrude; Gertie, to Alice.
Absorbing, talking, buying art --- buying Matisse.
Absorbing Matisse.Showing Matisse.Banishing Matisse.
Selling Matisse,collecting Picasso.Great Gertrude -- genius Gertrude
at court, holding court at Rue de Fleurus 27.
And Leo.Gone Leo.No Leo at Rue de Fleurus. Not at 27
After Leo, after Mr. Stein, after brother Leo. But there was Alice.
Alice was there Among Braques.And Cezanne.
(Not Matisse.)No longer Matisse, but Picasso.
And Picassos, Picassos, Picassos!
And Alice; alongside, was Alice.Next to, was Alice.
Alice next Gertrude,Gertie, G. --- Gertrude, Miss Stein.
Genius Gertrude Stein Quiet Alice always.
And a great Gertrude. A great brown Gertrude. A leviathan.
A passing ship; a great leviathan.Gertie, a genius.
A hugeness.A shibboleth.But to Alice,
just Gertie.
Anna Karenina, by Leo Tolstoy,
approximately 800 redundant pages
of Kafkaesque scoffing
at relentless banalities of economic and political elitists.
Rather like transcribing often inebriated conversations
within all-night insider celebrations
of a ProPlutocracy Party Convention
Or, sadly, a depressed weed-rant
at the end of a long defensive policy debate
among inter-religiously woke Democrats
longing for a win/win DanceParty Convention,
like in the good-old liberally bipartisan ballroom days
Only maybe about 400 condensed
impacted pages shorter
with the remainder quite unliterally
and anti-climatically inscrutable
as planned anti-ecological obsolescence
through mutually partisan assured destruction
Drinking and smoking
through organic Earth's rabidly dark night
denying and/or distracted
from synergetically addressing
our unwell-disorganizing Anthropocene
of epically AnthroNarcissistic
autocratic-monopolistic chaos
Adding nothing more useful
or healthy
or sacred
to Kafkaesque scoffing
at relentlessly drunk banalities
of economic and political elitists.
ANCHORITE AT THE GATE OF HEAVEN
Not heeding brute reality, nor matter’s bane
I kneel at the door of heaven, a suppliant,
Transcribing words of wisdom, like the rain
On wild flowers; the garden’s hierophant:
Anointed, a habit on my body’s beauty
I lie in the threshold of my tryst with God -
The first flight from earth being my duty
Becoming His perfect mean and golden rod,
I cool my heels in a dank, dark cell
Where half-light becomes my element
God’s plenty in motes, with the music of the bell
A love feast of the penitent.
I rise on wings of thankfulness and praise,
Sing out in silence the glory of His ways.
from IN MEMORY OF HER 2008
“Phoenix Dreams in the Realm of Crows”
wake up
shake up
kaleidoscope girl
jigsaw
see saw
fit the pieces
she
another world
away
the in-betweeen
flows easily
through the veil
safe harbour
opening
portals
for ocean steering
curious kaleidoscope
stories to sew
the slip stitch
love knot cast
anchor’s raised
time’s racing
discharge fear
or remain
feathers spreading
in the realm
of crows
poetic
messengers
casting their spells
for opening
tombs turning
dead leaves to tomes
in the crowded hideaway
where shorthand, fixed tight to masts,
swings suspended for transcribing
dark nights,
where soft and fierce
treasure dwells
feathers spreading
cunning cuneiform for ghosts
who speak in tongues
transformative
strange letters
unfurling
spreading
deep indigo and
jesserant jet feathers
swords and keys
for plundering
and opening
impromptu places
mysterious better nests
for hidden golden eggs
broken yoked,
freed
spilling silver spoons,
curl love drunk
into warm skinned
velvet embryos
hugging new bodies
of work, slick palaces
for bedding
better never-endings
never ending,
electric muses
flocked
and kissing
sated singing
dreams
in the realm
of crows
the in-betweeen
flows easily
through the veil
safe harbour
opening
portals
for ocean steering
bejewelled St Elmo
phoenix fire stories lit, to sew
the slip stitch
love knot cast
anchor’s raised
astral charting
glossy winged stars
albatross angels
waxing lyrical
follies and flights
ignited, illuminating
phoenix dreams
in the realm
of crows
(LadyLabyrinth / 2022)
“Hideaway”/ Queens of the Stone Age
https://youtu.be/2dcbcic06vw
"Let It Happen" / Tame Impala
https://youtu.be/NMRhx71bGo4
"Nothing That Has Happened So Far Has Been Anything We Could Control"/Tame Impala
https://youtu.be/C1VelTQ3hdY
Crow Symbolism
https://www.onthefeeder.com/crow-symbolism/
LYRICS/ “Hideaway”, Queens of the Stone Age
https://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/queensofthestoneage/hideaway.html
LYRICS/"Let It Happen", Tame Impala
https://genius.com/Tame-impala-let-it-happen-lyrics
By night eleven figures came to me
Unlocking doors that sealed shut long ago.
We travelled forward on a darkened sea
To sleepy Somnus’ cave, hidden below.
Eternal slumber gave me rich insight,
Transcribing knotted weavings made by Fates.
The desert day so soon becomes the night.
A pink adenium opens the gates.
The broadened wings of Letum drive whirlwinds
Destroying yet defining futile man.
This changeless contract Saturn can’t rescind.
This boundless desert wastes the best laid plans.
The vision fades away, the figures leave.
The Moon is made anew, no need to grieve.
SuShI
you and me
we should be
transcribing
underneath
a
Cherryblossom
Poet-tree
in
Japanese
savoring
intimacy
sharing
SuShI
© Kim van Breda—27 December 2015
Tryouts starring musical prodigies
and/or an attendant conductor
attempt to approach ambient chorus
divinely exhibited from Gaia's handiwork
heavenly invoking kapellmeister's magnificent nonchalant outlook
piquantly, quintessentially, repertoire sensately striking
unmatched vast wisdom yielding, zephyr air albeit creativity
engineered from groundswell harmony
juxtaposed, kindled, linkedin,
manifesting noteworthy opulent philharmonic recording
transcribing universal veritable webbed wide world.
Wunderkinds yield Ziggurat acme approximated asymptote
bequeathing celestial Doppelganger Earthly emulations
formulating fractal glinting highlighting
ineffable joie de vivre jostling, keen kindling,
la la land legerdemain lifting logic
lording Ludwig (Josef Johann) Wittgenstein.
?
Yelping zoological apostle Al affidavit Gore handily
heaping hubristically invocation jolting kickstart measures
nipping nixed noblesse oblige opera
quickening quotidian rapid ruination sans supreme
teetering upended venerated wise with acumen
arithmetical Benoit Mandelbrot
chasing far-fetched ideas
lightyears menacing nihilism purging ogres opportunistically
resplendently ripping revered tankard tipping unstoppably
vanquishing varietal whipsawing wonderful wrapt yawning youngsters
warfare written wrought yanking zestfully crushing environmental family
granting Herculean instant karma
malevolent, opprobrious pronouncement
quiet riot silencing severely tragic ubiquitous vicious wreckage
yikyaks apemen cleft Earth.
*************************************************
Future foragers denounce capitalistic bamboozlers aggression
zealots wrought trashing quintessential naked kingdoms issue
flotsam coagulates zonal wastelands torquing quality NON
killing habitats Earth bleached yellowed voodoo ruins.
Surrounded by silence and draped with a linen sheet,
to keep dust from your natural sheen,
and protect you from direct sunlight;
not from the loneliness and gloominess of your night...
How thrilling and gratifying was to hear
the gleeful or moody notes,
when these careful fingers
played an octave: either lower or higher!
Never abandoned for a long period,
always tuned-up, free of dust and ready for play;
a companion that loved being spoiled,
by letting me improvise the melody of the day...
Let me see myself in virtual reality, stately and taut,
sitting in my stylish pose, and hit the keyboard,
transcribing a musical comedy by sharp memory
as the chords make up my distinct harmony...
Be dormant no more, come alive and rejuvenate your tones:
as the spirit that inspires the mood of your melodies; bring back
all the tenors and sopranos to this forgotten stage so dark,
and let them sing the arias they choose within the range of their keys....
I doubt myself, real bad sometimes
I think - why did that happen to me
How could I possibly write that nice poem?
And if I did it once, how can I do it again?
Because I don’t know or forgot how too
With pen in hand, the magic flows again
But the words come from the pen’s pointy end
Not from me, I just write what I’m told
messenger boy, only transcribing
I take no credit except for criticizing
But not for spelling mistakes, that’s Gates’ job
Although he really doesn’t know
The difference between to and too
Hint, it doesn’t make four
Whoa, the pen just ran out of words.
Fingers flying, forming fiction,
transcribing, typing diction.
Always in a mighty hurry,
No mistakes, just more worry.
I will, I wont, no time to wonder,
right or wrong cannot stop to ponder.
Kill them, sock them, pound harder.
Fingers to the bone, finger martyr.
Wish I may wish I might
type a nursery rhyme at home tonight.
Soup baby needs attention
Contests going, too much to mention.
What to do if I get a virus.
Finger scribe with a stylus?
Always something more is coming.
Overhead black cloud is looming.
Asleep, instead of restful slumber.
Count I my finger giganumber.
All night long instead of sheep
Ruin my REM, don’t get my sleep
Up at dawn no time to linger
Finger flexing limbers finger
In my car continue workout
For flaunting finger flying clout.
© Jun 02 2010 For Linda’s “Finger Frenzy” contest
Serenity transmits through my veins like blood
Amidst beautiful flowers of roses and lilies
Mixed in dazzling bright colours
Like the shades of a rainbow
Huh! This ambience smiles at me
Like the morning sun
Gosh!
Tiny droplets drip a pool of cold sensation on my quiet skin
With the East-wind humming its motion into my nerves
Yet, splits of mountain dew rains on me
Like a sensational mild kiss
From my creator
Hmm! This feels like heaven on earth
I see twinkling little birds
Twinkle-off my twinkle little eyes
Whistling sonorous tunes
Borne out of a genuine heart
Yet, dancing to the rhythm of chromatic tones
Birthed in the wind
And like a gentle touch from the wind,
This atmosphere melts my skin
With a romantic feel from within
Transcribing its impulses
Into goose bumps in me like a pin
Hmm!
I feel like the queen of an orchard
Sited beside the pool of Lake Chad
Word-Worker
Thee procurement and collection
Of this smattering of letters
No matter your predilection
For future employment of type setters
To criss and cross all the tees and eyes
Paying close attention to the prose
Transcribing thine inner reflections width and lengthwise
In all subsequent rows
By paying out the aforementioned
It may be held in contention
That without future authorship; I would be un-pensioned.
16NOV20
What kind of policy is this?
Who is posting, constructing or transcribing more than 10 a day?
There must have been a culprit to enforce this policy.
Some PREMIUM member was it?
I've had
A gutful of this
I'm going to triangulate
My findings and then triangulate
My toast
Mother used to cut it into
Rectangles
Foxy Roxy
And some real whiskey banter
Amazing milkshakes
But no
Electricity at night
The contents of my brain