Best Unframed Poems
~
“Pristine your pose, exposed artistic allure”
Canvas on easel waits patiently,
naked in formless thought
Inviting rapture’s brush strokes
“White on white destined pleadings”
Visions engulf watercolor yearnings
blending passion’s tints…
Seductive bristled breaths fall
“Soft curves fill unframed desires”
Orchid skin seeps semi-gloss wishes,
hues of fire fed glazing
Smooth along tender tan lines
“Valleys of bliss penetrate oiled needs”
Mahogany eyes captivate,
portals shimmering silently,
beckoning in secretive glances
“Seductive palettes draw on my sight”
Crimson lips in a whimpered pout,
satin pillowed arching designs
whisper me my dreams
“Their touch breaks my will”
As I paint you, I linger in lust
Overwhelmed by your beauty,
falling helplessly into this masterpiece
“And we become one via art”
Saturated in drop cloth drippings,
sighs of fevered temptations rise
releasing abstract movements
“Acrylic serenity, vibrant achings”
Melting in chromatic motion,
collapsing among over-sprayed delirium,
embracing flowing iridescent endings
“Lost forever in a portrait of love”
Categories:
unframed, art, beauty, desire, love,
Form:
Free verse
The bible
our pure poetry
Divine voice
art -- gallery imagery
Father’s expanding palettes of time
space infinite –
shadows of unframed
formless canvas -- man's freedom
to light, shape, transverse supernal grace,
we, alone, limit speed
and trajectory
bridging dark gaps, colors
dappled, dropped and splashed
faith will make mix, both consciously
and intuitively apply:
heaping our scrapers and brushes,
the chill of the chalkboard screech
the joy of the slip and slide
the rankle of arms and hands figuring
otherwise meaningless medium
Creativity man's Adam
ligaments of my elastic being
dutifully, lovingly allowing stretch
for explore
sinewy constructs for
mental lift and taut endurance,
the unshakable frame that
holds all upright, and
makes daily challenges
superbly sculptable, while
retaining elasticity --
God let’s be
and we decide
if when and what…?
His unseen hand
yet in the flaming attributes….
Categories:
unframed, christian, creation, imagination, perspective,
Form:
Free verse
Gypsy Autumn, what grace and style!
sunshine dappled melts to moonlight.
resigned summer is just awhile
trees liberated, leafless sight.
bright mosaic of yellow and brown,
Gypsy Autumn, what grace and style!
leaves are free, colors dancing down
in caress of wind, through the aisle.
unravelled fractals thrall in pile,
nomad flames in transient layers
Gypsy Autumn, what grace and style!
orange orchids, touseled red hairs.
unrefined beauty, unframed art
hues of sunset in hazel smile.
Hi! champagne welcomes winter start
Gypsy Autumn, what grace and style!
Categories:
unframed, autumn,
Form:
Quatern
Time a non-renewable resorce unframed
Time that slowly wears away one's bones
Takes away friends_ companions leaves alone
Soon world will forget even poems I named
So glad that into my feeble life You came
Since knowing You I have spiritually grown
Now am claimed as one of Your very own
No more in inner being bear sin's shame
Lovingly and patiently know that you are true
Even there is an accounting of number of my hairs
When in discomfort of ill-fitting shoe
You provide for me a comfortable chair
I know You unconditionally love too
And in TIME all my sorrows You will bear
Categories:
unframed, devotion, inspirational, love
Form:
Sonnet
He chooses his medium and tools carefully:
It's oil and sable promises today.
He lays it on thick-haphazardly.
He folds then unfolds the unframed canvas many times
into the shape of a woman.
Squeezing out her dignity,
then reads what's left behind...
(his flavor of voodoo).
He fondles her entrails-shakes her bones.
That spill into the shape of.. "a little less than yesterday".
Picked over prey he frames her.
Hangs her in his fun house tilted mind;
Then he buzzard hops away, taking to the sky.
Circling above searching for another pair of wide soft eyes.
He chooses his medium carefully...to fit the deed.
Today it's his black clay heart that changes shape.
From a soft nest- to cold cackling cage...
The bunny takes the musky bait,
he spits gasoline on the bars.
Runs metal talons against a dying star...
igniting her.
He waits till her ashes cool.
he inhales deeply, puts the rest in a mason jar.
...proclaiming victory
he slithers away...
He chooses his medium carefully.
Today it's his stained-glass smile....
"his heavenly mirage".
A magnet for she doves
which fly into it, heart first.
they're diced with shards from a toxic rainbow.
but there is no gold at the end.
only hollow caves and poisoned winds...
He dons his cape and crown of dying doves.
Which, have since turned from white to red.
He lounges around buffing his trophies with split tongue.
He chooses his medium carefully...
********************************************
Categories:
unframed, bird, men,
Form:
Free verse
What the eye can see
or heart can feel,
we fondle nerves of the mind
to perceive. In a black and white
photo hanging bare, unframed,
received by my reflection
falling
from a beige-colored page.
Melding with shapes of sky
and curves of cool serenity,
a rainy day frozen in love
as clouds congregate above
and from umderneath street lights
in still drops of rain -
photographed and shared.
I feel haunted by this vision,
an artist’s gray eyes seep into my soul.
We, two, connect, our storm
fueled layers -
all black, white; the shadows between.
I make a wish here,
found in this moment,
pervious in timeless perception.
In absence of color, I see more
than storms in ominous skies,
I see hope in bold and fading
light, temptation-
heavens and earth
in beautiful discord.
What the eye can see
or the heart can feel,
beauty animates each part of the whole,
in every transparent drop of rain
every dark and light cloud
encircling our touch.
3/7/15
Categories:
unframed, appreciation, art, dark, light,
Form:
Verse
Bought at an antiques store for a song:
unframed print #225 of 750, signed by the artist
Number III of the family name, all painters,
(presumably) Those forbears hard to discard--
"Stay Awhile" its title, hospitably captioned by
a country boy, like my father, perhaps-- posing
beside his favorite horse on the back roads
of Race Pond, Georgia, his playground by
birthright, the Okefenokee Swamp.
Staying awhile, I place myself in the painting,
its cool morning mist in the hills beyond.
The white clapboard house, red-roofed, six
front windows, one dormer peeking out
from the eaves; four steps up to the porch
from the under-the-house black earth the house
was built on; its checkered slats at the base
prohibiting the crawl space where the doodlebugs
hide. Kitchen matches to be left untouched,
heeding the grownups chide. Only to the bugs
is it dire: "Doodlebug,doodlebug, hurry
on home--your house is on fire.
Two Christmassy trees hug at opposite ends
of the house, awaiting December decoration.
A grassy knoll rolls down to masses
of white and yellow sunflowers in a frenzied
welcome. Past the grayed barn where
tools are kept and the horses are tethered,
I place myself in the painting, flying Superman style,
spread eagle, arms out, facing downward
past clapboard house, barn. Then, into the hills
with their pale promise of perennial dawn where
there is no sorrow, no pain, no heavy heart
unshared, no loss we cannot bear.
Categories:
unframed, imagination,
Form:
Blank verse
“The rays of setting sun design the unframed dreams
in life’s kaleidoscopic snapshot.” – by Poet
The revolving wheel of the ceaseless time
rotates the contrived kaleidoscope of life,
the riveting patterns change persistently
in the mélange of motif enmeshing the mind.
The chameleon colors transform transiently
the visage of mind’s varied landscape
into the ashen essence of burnt forlornness,
or the beguiled feeling of emerald exuberance.
The dispersed dreams drifting away to the past,
float on the cascade of fantasy stream,
meandering on the topography of the present,
carved out of the bedrock of ebullience.
My emotion replicates the wings of butterflies,
fluttering on the ripples of blissful breeze,
and before they all waft away to obscurity,
form for me a flying formation of fulfillment.
I take my lonesome journey with hope
across the greening wasteland of despair,
or along the glittering garden path,
lined with blooming saplings of bursting colors.
I then perceive my closed mind unfurl,
unveiling the receptive canvas of sensuality,
painted with shifting colors of sublime beauty of being,
creating the kaleidoscopic collage of euphoria.
_______________
March 11, 2023
Theme chosen : Kaleidoscopic
Contest :Writing Challenge - "K" Words
Sponsored by : Constance La France
For A Brian Strand Premiere No 1215 Contest
Categories:
unframed, analogy, change, dream, life,
Form:
Free verse
The morning sun stretches across the sky,
charging a palette of blues, greens and chalky coastal whites.
The smell of salt is carried by the early morning humid wind,
and seagulls search for their first delights.
The sparseness of our beach terrain rises up
into sweeping, spartan hills where provincial gardens stew.
Our little white bungalow house proudly stands
on the high promenade and gazes down to the ocean blue.
With stucco walls our house is stout,
it’s long low face consumes the heat of the clamoring seasonal sun.
Through the wide, arching doors to the four season porch,
the eaves crown a frame of fragrant cinnamon.
Our long, slender, wall-less garden extends out to the sea,
where our cliffs afford views of natural luxury.
A centuries old stone staircase descends to our beach,
where blue waves refract light into love’s estuary.
The four season garden is divided in two, half is for cooking
and half for the artist’s eye to bravely portray.
The sun warmed, fertile sandy soil has been sculpted
into rows of herbs, beach fruits and leafs of blue-gray.
The kitchen is open and the heart of this house,
where home grown love is slow cooked and always eaten close.
Stone floors and wood paneled surfaces appending the rooms,
with unframed windows to gaze and expose.
Interiors would be decorated with the colors of love,
painted by hand in the organic way that lovers can.
Our bed is a sand dune of linen and sea bird feathers,
where sunsets and it’s music seduce us time and again.
Categories:
unframed, home, house, beach, garden,
Form:
Verse
I've been expelled from the everyday life
by clocks' ticking
I keep on waking up enclosed
in an expensive box...
On bare walls I hang up my imagination
It's unframed and wild -
A bitter-sweet Freedom keeps haunting me:
to FLY with a family of pelicans to the unknown
or to DIE all alone
under a freeway overpass
I see my fingerprints disappear
one-by-one...
I am writing this as PROOF that
I existed in a World where
ink is Invisible and echoes are Mute
copyright@iolandascripca2016
Categories:
unframed, life, lonely,
Form:
Free verse
Been reminded of days gone by
when the doors were opened wide,
The endless rails called loud his name,
sent an iron horse to ride.
Geese were flying a mile above,
salmon were making their run;
People down at the corner store
dreamt of winters in the sun.
Preserves were stacked five jars high,
window screens are packed away;
They've gathered wood from fields afar
to keep freezing nights at bay.
Skates are sharpened for the ice,
snow sleds pulled down from the wall;
Some think about the distance gone
and how much it costs to call.
The prairies that were left behind
underneath the broad blue skies
Were forgot like towns bought and sold
with each ticket that one buys.
Those left to clear the frozen paths
still question where they belong,
They think about the miles passed by
and how far he may have gone.
Whispers of smoke now drift on high,
children gather 'round the fire;
Moms and dads dream of moving on
come the day when they retire.
Somewhere deep in a padded cell
sits a man without a name,
Been there since nineteen fifty nine
with his picture still unframed.
Of all the things he left behind,
a childhood is missed the most;
More now is lost than what's recalled
when the rails ran to the coast.
Tears often run down weathered cheeks,
spittle drops onto his vest;
He still can hear those whistles blow
on the trains that once moved west.
Categories:
unframed, history, life, loss,
Form:
Rhyme
Driftwood
Once part of a thing lone and simple,
That stood breathing sky through a spray of green
Held in a tangle of outspread arms,
Some circumstance tore you loose from your moorings
And cast you adrift,
A wanderer on the unframed seas
Whose eddies shaped and changed you
Into your present enigma: something more and less
Than you were when you were born.
My eyes follow your strange contours,
Pitted, twisted by lash of wave and solar fire,
And the thought forms in me of how circumstance
Carries us through the wild ocean of changes
We call a life,
Pulled loose from our moorings
To ride along a vast and silent deep,
Shaped by the lashings, burnings and turns of fate
That transform us by degrees into something lovely, mysterious -
Something more and less
Than what we were when born.
Categories:
unframed, beauty, nature,
Form:
Free verse
“Pristine your pose, exposed artistic allure”
Canvas on easel waits patiently
Naked in formless thought
Inviting rapture’s brush strokes
“White on white destined pleadings”
Visions engulf watercolor yearnings
Blending passion’s tints…
Seductive bristled breaths fall
“Soft curves fill unframed desires”
Olive skin seeps semi-gloss wishes
Hues of fire fed glazing
Smooth along tender tan lines
“Valleys of bliss penetrate oiled needs”
Mahogany eyes captivate
Pearled glints shimmer silently
Beckoning in secretive glances
“Portal’d palettes draw on my sight”
Crimson lips in whimpered pout
Satin pillow’d arching designs
Whisper me my dreams
“Their touch breaks my will”
As I paint you, I linger in lust
Overwhelmed by your beauty
Falling helplessly into this masterpiece
“And we become one via art”
Saturated in drop cloth drippings
Sighs of fevered temptations rise
Releasing abstract movements
“Acrylic serenity, vibrant achings”
Melting in chromatic motion
Collapsing among overspray imagination
Embracing iridescent ending
“Lost forever in a portrait of love”
Categories:
unframed, art, lust, sensual,
Form:
Free verse
My soul wanders in the dark alley within me,
plunges in the abyss of discontent.
The unsatiated life, unframed and uncertain,
casts a formless shadow of ambiguity on the being,
that flares up as anguish in the carnival of darkness,
burning my essence to ashes of bleak nothingness.
In the gloom of the dismal opaque night,
across the murky landscape of the formidable fate,
I need to take the ordained last journey committed,
for I have promises waiting to be kept,
but I lose the tortuous track travelling the illusive time
in the tormenting gloom of the labyrinth.
The holy fire of spirit is then ignited within me
to incinerate the spreading wings of the deluding ego,
glows the realigned elements of the dormant force,
shows me the path away from the illusive self-worth,
and flashes in the mindscape the sagacious sense,
not to be induced by the imprudent impermanence.
At the fringe of the fleeting forlorn moments,
shaping the perspective of introspection,
and shining in the inner resplendent heavenly light,
I see the blazing sunrise in the dawn of revelation.
The rays of hope radiating from the hued horizon,
illumines the dark recess of the morose mind.
The consciousness in the fold of timeless inner solitude
kindles the concealed candle of the almighty,
that burns with the radiance of the eternal fire,
suffusing me with the glow of sublime bliss,
I carry within me beyond the shadow of strife as I travel
on the promised path to the lighted sanctum of divinity.
_________________
February 26, 2023
Contest : Which Fire Is Eternal
Sponsored by : Joe Maverick
Categories:
unframed, analogy, angst, fire, life,
Form:
Free verse
Written: March 14, 2025, for contest Sponsored by: Kai Michael Neumann
***********************
On that obsidian night,
I found your flawless face,
echoing with illuminated breaths
and hushed whispers from Mulberry Trees
The sunset swan song lingers.
in a warm twilight embrace.
Springtime ushers in butterflies,
dancing in a garden of flowers.
The gentle breeze serves as music,
and they flutter about for hours.
Each butterfly dons its finest attire,
softly adorned by
the petals they cherish.
Their movements are a ballet in the air
adding beauty to the garden,
a delightful sight so rare.
Threads of turmoil
dance across a colorful sky.
Glimmering gazes gather,
grinning at the edges with grace.
From waves of sorrow to deep love,
Break free and soar high.
Graceful transience
crossed my path,
your porcelain pout
spoke profound truths.
I shuddered, sobbing and shrieking.
The tattered threads tore apart.
As we breathe in gentle impermanence,
We draw sunlight with our breaths.
A fractured mind finds restoration.
as resilience blooms from the foundation.
Carefree smiles, now bear marks,
dimples etched by time hand,
and a final stretch carved
in a meadow so serene.
The gravel path beneath our feet,
worn and rugged through the years,
bears witness to fading sparkles
as daylight slowly slips away.
Lucent lanterns of fireflies
flicker upon ebony stems,
scarlet petals soaked
in the soft morning mist.
My fist of frustration.
clutched self-sabotaging shadows,
resilience radiates through
rooted in steadfast resolve.
Ebony stalks with olive leaves
Hold scarlet blossoms high.
Desperation grasp weakens,
releasing doubts into the soft azure sky.
The sultry sun sinks behind it.
racing storm-filled clouds,
reflecting life’s ever-shifting
kaleidoscope—our trials laid bare.
We craft unframed dreams.
from a hidden lattice unseen,
built on unwavering hope
where despair has often lingered.
Sacred truths uphold
support amid the sunset’s glare,
embracing complexities —
Love's chaotic dance is laid bare.
Categories:
unframed, beauty, love,
Form:
Free verse