Lives of residents collaged
as their portraits hang
from a gallery’s ceiling
and spotlight shine
upon their faces.
They are old
they are young
they are boys and men
they are girls and women
these people who have called
a small Iowa town
their own.
Some have posed
in fields
some by their houses
and they frown or smile
their faces offering reflections
of the lives they’ve known
but in their eyes, I see
reflections of the many lives
I’ve lived as I stroll
through the gallery.
My memories stir inside
a deep affection of quiet drives
through the countryside
and past this quiet town.
Once when I stopped
for a pizza
a light shown upon
the face of a girl at the counter.
lights shine like stars
on small town people
living ordinary lives
("The Mothership", 2024, original encaustics digitally collaged by Stephen Langer)
What Will You Do
When the aliens come
What will you do?
Will you go dragged kicking and screaming
Only to remember nothing,
Or will you go willingly
With the curiosity of a child?
What’s there after all
In the Great Mother ship,
A portal, a station, theatre of the mind
In multidimensional surround sound
Revealing a multiverse of limitless potential
Or a black hole of limited impossibility?
I don’t know, but it bears considering.
In my experience such things happen without choice,
Like a moth to a flame
Or sonambulator in the dark,
But why not be prepared
With your choice already made?
“Beam me up Scotty”
It’s gotten too crazy down here,
And what I took for an intelligent lifeform
Has turned out to be a mirage.
Ah, much better in multidimensional surround,
Thanks Ma.
(7/9/24)
FOUNDISTA
disparate
ready-mades
detrius
&
castoffs
coming-to-hand
recognised
aethethetically
uniquely
collaged
by
anothers
eye
CONSTRUCTISTA
collaged
installations
moving
swaying
counter
rotating
spatial
dimensional
continuous
happenings
Slide, barrel, firing
My life expiring
Carve peace into a bullet so its the last thing on my mind
'Cause what remains in the sky is our stars misaligned
The shrapnel from the meplat dissects my insides
My emotional integrity, treat like it was Alcides
I submit to you my mag of hatred
You load your gun and leave me berated
The echoes of metallic disparage on the concrete
Discard the magazine, rest it on my grave and replete
Disengage the safety, make your grip pirouette
In my mind you're already dead, your ballade des
Your body slumps, no longer recepts, self-sabotaged
The thoughts of us never escaped your mind, constantly collaged
(See the text embedded in the image above. For a high-resolution version of this image, go to cinemaspirit.info/trinity.)*
Trinity Dance (a Visual Poem)
By Mark D. Stucky
Father - Parent - Creator - Rock - Lover - Justice
Son - Child - Savior - Redeemer - Loved - Peace
Spirit - Womb - Sanctifier - Friend - Love - Wisdom
*(About this work: See the image above! The collaged image in this visual poem has three groups of words describing persons of the Trinity in a three-in-one spiraling dance with a Hubble photo of spiral galaxy NGC 4639 in the background. It was inspired by a question in my church, if the three persons of the Trinity danced together, what would that have looked like? This work was first published as "Trinity Dance" in Spirit Fire Review, 21 March 2023. See also my "Trinity" poems "Trinitarian Equations" and "The Invention of Love" and my visual poem “Haiga for the Heavenbound.”)
multiple viewspoints
collaged
together as one
forays
with the
commonplace
collaged
spatial
merzed
assimulated fragments
of the
immaterial
by chance
made
material
indescribable
without purpose
yet
enduring
memorials
displaced
in time
three dimensions
monuments
as
reflections
of the uncertainty
of life
an
essence
of the absolute
a world of dreams
made manifest
imagination
extolled
eclectic
surreal spectacles
the outlandish
otherworldly
unconscious constellations
of the contemporary
monumental vitality
outpourings
in an
impulsive collaged
spontaneity
expression
frees liberty
in
a
finger printed fantasy
supple satires
out
of nothing
the
banal
beautified
instinctive impulses
alchemistic
angular
bold&brash
contemplations
FLYING THE KITE
On the sunny days of the chilly winter
Within me the child I left long ago enters
I go out under the blue sky shining bright
Fly in the northern wind my colored kite.
The collaged kite soars slowly high
Flies with the flock of birds in the sky
When it cuts the thread of another kite
Arms thrown high, I jump in delight.
The kite nosedives to touch the horizon far
I take it high up again with a spin in the air
I marvel at my residual kite flying skill
The child in me, I know, is there still.
If I can fly my life like a kite in the sun
The child will never leave me, I’ll have fun.
June 23, 2018.
Like a dark water wave,
a flock of geese splashed
across the collaged, Virginia sky.
Teeming tall trees
stood rooted in juxtaposition.
Some stood poised
with outstretched naked arms;
while others stood with arms clothed
in beautiful blossoms—
Sneezing yellow mist chilling winds.
Awaiting spring’s emancipation,
confused allergies seem to hibernate.
In the purple smoky collaged sky
The birds swam home
on flaky water colours,
carrying his rainy perfume.
I prayed for this one night
He would evenly spray my garden,
Without the rumbling accompaniment
Of his hurly burly friend flashing
nightmarish psychedelic lights, but let
Little Sue dream with her angels in peace.
Balveen Cheema
September 15, 2015
Contest: Mixed Senses
Toipic: Evening
Sponsor: Nette Onclaud
TEMPTATION'S TOUCH
-----------------------------
His palm soothes the ridges
Furrowed in her starlight skin
Her masseur, he replenishes
Each and every aching extremity
The chiming bells of his strokes
Ring again and again
Summoning her to his lair
Collaged in deep affinity
Her rock solid attraction
Draws her savory soul
Into a lustrous world
She's never seen nor known
A vibrant virgin caressed
Then clasped by her first
Drowns her soul in his lake
To diffuse her thirst
Heaven's hallowed sheet
At last drops her drapes
Unveiling her cast concealed
Behind the stage
Lines from her script
Long lavished in capes
Sifts and locks his eyes
Embellished by each page
Chastity's cloud exiles
Then expurgates her existence
Extracted by he who
Extricated her innocence
Alive and awake, she shows
Herself just the same
Fluorescent radiant flower
Who bears a different name
Restlessly she reclines
Atop her apple green ground
While her heart percussions
Her wedded lover's sound
Each tantalizing twine
Designs his touch so sweet
Tightly tying the tongue
Of the tasting rose
Flooded in fervent favor
From Gehenna's heat
Deteriorating the stem
Decimating her pose
Behold, across, the window scene,
The falling sky, a low, aging gray;
The pregnant clouds appear to burst,
Heavy with the rains of May.
Looking out the window
At the prelude to a storm,
A man awaits the torrent,
Hums a sullen dirge alone.
Growls of thunder, bolts of light,
Storm’s above, storm’s his mind,
Clouded with collaged memoirs
From sadder than sad times.
Please strike
the piñata
i have made for you
out of the stripes of paper
and the glue,
In the midnight hour
i have labored long
on this plump pig
of collaged letters.
with corrugated metaphors
Sightless Find the weakest point.
let that guide
your hand
the transparent rose
cellophane
wrapped candy
shall flow
in libation of sound
pour down
like a quirky rainstorm
bouncing
like silver
coins
on the sidewalk
of your mind.
Related Poems