Best Transmit Poems

He speaks with measured dignity,
one silent word at a time
His palmetto pen tells us: 
Tune out the cosmic background noise,
and focus your mind
on the sound...

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POTW 28 January 2018

Prologue:
A beautiful extra-terrestrial female researcher is sent down to a remote island to observe earth and beam her findings back to her...

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As dark canvas unfurls bit by bit
Randomly gulping down acrylic paints of dusk
To satisfy his own thirst, not for long, to sprawl
Into a magical cosmos...

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Privileged is the right of ingress, bearing your beloved name, 
To chambers of your heart, where burns a sacred flame,
Of inner sanctum divine, in sanctity...

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.The first gift of Christmas was love

It was bestowed from above

It was given to all

to both rich and  poor

to those who are strong

or who...

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Shining brightly flashes of white light 
into spectral colours sparkle inwardly 

Atoms arranged within a crystal structure domed 
a gemstone takes shape measured from the...

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The night is frosted glass.
Daylight’s clouds - restless like my love -
and scattered wildly heretofore -
somehow made a pact
to nimbly rearrange themselves.
Congealing in this chilling...

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PUT TO THE TEST

Planet earth has been put to the test,
Everyone we hope is doing their best,
Unavoidable to sometimes feel depressed,
No family member for tea...

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Within Shattered Heart, Remained A Fire Still Lit

Beset by grievous sorrows, his past full of sins
facing darkest evil truth, not mind's wishful spins,
what else could...

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Irony cries out in Boulet’s rendering.
Elderly Native American’s stern expression
seems captured beneath eagle’s wings.

Symbol of power and freedom,
mighty bald eagle was chosen by European ancestors...

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He's got a big ego,
he keeps offending people,
he scoops the same scoop,
and round and round we loop,
until the bubble pops
and the world sees him flop,
reject...

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"Fata Morgana" 

feet hardly touch the ocean
when silent stars of no voice
transmit words to pay the ferryman
on the water no reflection 

gently the sun waves...

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Good poetry is like an Old Master
Crafted with expert skill imbued with soul
No abstracted throwaway disaster
Or a bland undistinguished casserole
Of poor ingredients cooked up faster
And...

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Back again ...

Her daily hour of hope ...
She came every evening to The Hem ...
Just a big hole in the earth, really, a barren canyon...

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I see sun,
I see sorrow,
Mingled on the floor,
A cracking egg, a knocked door,
Mangled wealth and poor.

I hear sound,
I sometimes smell it,
Synesthesia knows not whence,
A response...

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