Freshwater ice, compressed,
breaks off, with tremulous lights
and shakes
and rotates
in intricate snowflakes
like wings, of ice crystals
then floats away, in the open Ocean
and she's tracing his steps, leaving white dust
like crushed shells
as she walks , gracefully, as if on
Japanese Okobo
They were attached, as if by circuits of frozen stems
with lacings , of smaller molecules
its microscopic
and its perfect
her ribs split open, and a mosaic of musical strings
reveal, what looks like melting precious silver
and her face, is draped in a mass
of webs, upon webs
she looks at him, through the haze
he's the parchment Worlds were written on
now a sychronized flight path, he illuminates
all the crowd of beams
of celestrial, night skies
and there, white noise combines
in steady, different frequencies
with excact, united, intensity
heard and seen, by only a few
is it choregraphed ?
Icebergs Dancing.
is not an easy noodle to suck in:
because, people want to laugh and feel
scared!
at the same time…
for full effect!
It is just like being high
and drunk,
learning to multitask,
the ukulele,
speak Russian,
and crochet
while driving
three hours
to the beach
for a day
Creepshow is a great movie
that combines
all the good stuff:
art and acting,
comedy and horror:
“I want my cake!
Where is my
Father’s Day cake?!”
Like a thought of fuzz.
Combines like chicken claws.
Similar to how January doesn’t like anyone.
Enters my mind like a speck of gratitude.
Or everlasting stuff and weirdness.
Like a thought of fuzz.
Existence is a steering wheel speckled with glazed over feelings.
Enters my mind with patience.
Everywhere like perforations.
I have enough teetering in my pocket.
Lasts all February.
Curling, breathy, bearing weight and nothing more.
Like a thought of fuzz.
Floats for a while.
Drops down everlasting.
I can turn thoughts into Saturn’s rings.
As the falling wasteland sings.
Meditation empties out, covered in slime.
Combines senses like a squeeze of lime.
I have thoughts, rugged and swishing.
I don’t know for what I could be fishing.
Endless turning like my bedroom shifts.
Open my eyes, cracking rifts.
Medication wears on me like the head of a snowman falling off.
Wipe the existence with a cloth.
I can make Earth have rings like Saturn.
Then crush them in my head into this urn.
I have memories like coal in stockings.
Snow hisses and sometimes sings.
As the falling wasteland tears apart.
I feel steam escape my heart.
I can turn my thoughts around.
Three dimensional like the curse of the ground.
The Earth crackling like medication, medication…
Reminds me of my last meditation.
Things like Saturn, Venus, and Mars.
Do nothing and neither do passing cars.
Shafts of lazy light
Autumn shades cascading down
Combines comb the fields
Thirst does not have to remain suppressed
A continuous flow of fulfilling hydration
Faithful concrete promises
"For My thoughts are not your thoughts"
Reminder for days where my mind attacks
However, what is true is that I was made by You
Detailed in creation, carpentry beyond worldly comprehension
Empathy combines with intention
Realizing the similarities the Father places within us
Spirit flows and speaks freely
Jesus also has empathy
Yes, I am a hick from a hick town
where people look out for each other.
a town where people chip in money
for baby showers, weddings, funerals or a kid who needs shoes
a hick town where everyone knows everybody else’s story
where we are not afraid to eat a stranger’s baked goods
or give a hitchhiker a ride
we still have quilting bees and autumn festivals
I am from a hick town where people raise money to send a teen to England
We gather with our tractors and combines to help a farmer who is laid up
for if he does not get his crop in, he is financially sunk
Yes, I am a hick from a hick town
where people look out for each other
and proud of it
A frigid spell of arctic air
adorns the tranquil western scene;
a stunning glimpse of fall’s affair
with spring’s vivacious flower queen.
When autumn’s cooling wind combines
with April's warming playful breeze,
a whirling tempest paints designs
on grounds of winter’s icy freeze.
On sculptured hills of milky snows
October's tepid finger strolls,
and May's seductive blossom grows
when rising mercury controls.
Two heated seasons blend in time,
creating havoc in the sky.
Through swelling clouds of grey they climb
releasing moisture as they fly.
A blizzard raves across the path
of spring and autumn’s torrid flight,
and winter smiles in aftermath;
they outperformed this glacial night.
Tornado Jim was an unruly evil F-5.
He barely left anyone alive.
Threw cattle and tractors into the air.
Crushed combines and backhoes; he did not care.
Gloated that he had destroyed more farms than his sis.
She gave him a mean finger and snarled with a hiss.
Next time she destroyed, she vowed to be worse than him.
She was always in competition with Tornado Jim.
soundlessly reverberations travel
from root to crown and beyond any pitch
send laughter and tranquil adventure
accord to the spine like poetry’s chant
ring in the presence void from
previous future and unfolding past
mirror images of polar opposites
unite with a chime
rhythm and rhyme of untold melodies
resolve discords and false harmonies
once the echo of my Self
transcends eccentric ripples
it whispers tantra in my ear
combines all audible pleasures
with light escaping its shadows
I am beginning to feel a miracle
a whole ocean’s salt on my skin
just a drop in the Universe’s magic
and yet a tidal transmitter
to spiritual shores of being alive
Hay Fields
Harvest of ripened fodder yields
In rolls of hay littering the fields.
Golden, dried under the sun,
For livestock winter consumption;
Who still graze in rich fall pastures,
Unaware of summer’s departure,
Fattening on earth’s green grasses,
Basking in the warmth of contentment.
Crops of vegetables: corn and potatoes;
Grains of barley, oats, flax, wheat, and canola.
Combines reaping, threshing, and winnowing
With other machinery, then tilling of the soil.
Where the farmer stands proudly gazing
Upon the harvest yield of their labour.
The fallow land, soon to be covered in snow
Awaits spring planting and growth revival.
theory of colour
darkness
&brightness
light
& its absence
serene
softly
exciting
impression
of warmth
the hue of
intensity
stimulating
negation
active
passive side
in perfect
equality so
a six-part
circular
rainbow
complementary
dynamic
transitions
& gradations
subtle
yet profound
& magical
unifying
with
words
NOTE: Uniquely Klee combines a poem( in German),within his art
'Once emerged from the grey of night'.(as seen in link)
They wrote this play to target
folk like us to be together.
Anyone who share these types of interest
would find this worthy of paying
money to see.
It's a neither lacks excitement or meaning
instead it combines them both
with the popular detail that makes
something entertaining and great.
The play set it self uses a three room set
and a laboratory set where
the actors engage into the exciting skits
of know thingness
that fuses a storyline
which creates villans and heroes
allowing the folky people create
the narritive which
might instruct the audiences
sense of what's happening.
The guy wears a mask and stands
to distance him slef
while another man who knows whats going on
and he knows why it's going on so he
engages into foolishness with no purpose.
He dawns the same mask and stay's in the distance
too. The badguy mask wearer is looking for
the secret formula: he knows who has it
and he know's where it is. He must get close enough to
retreive the formula which he beleives to be his.
Goodluck Production company in collaberation with
Break a leg Drama Inc.
and VerbArea Music Company. Border and Cuclorama
Direction and Staff.
Counted among the congregants, the geese
flying by, two by two, at sunrise. Guitar
combines nicely with a heavenly voice.
Behind me the couple makes the Spirit flow.
Their voices, too, intertwined like Ivy.
Blessings and more blessings!
We arrive home to a ruckus in the bush.
A red cardinal has my undivided attention.
Perhaps, Mom is paying a visit.
I like to think so.
Blessings and more blessings!
Tears in sunrise glow. I sang of the Savior.
He washed me white as snow, as they drove
nails through his hands and feet. He healed me.
We sing of an angel on a stone, declaring,
“He is not here! He has risen!”
If you only understood, friend, he made a way
where there was no way, and all through
the Holy Scriptures it prophesied
what Jesus would do. What more…
what more do we need. We need only believe.
Blessings and more blessings!
Bless you, dear ones!
Mural Musings
the soft yellow streaked the terra cotta,
shadowing the speckled sallow saffron
a bluish buff upon the cochineal;
brilliant boneblack
grizzled the engrain
citrine carnation
as
the fallow flaxen,rustic rubrical
rainbow-tinted
the magenta mandarine;
unseen
the ultra-marine, tinged burnt sienna,
reflecting a golden flame of raw umbery upon
the earth green;
bright mosaic gold
mottled the sallow sorrel
virent yellow,oak stained
the pale apricot;
while
blood red,reddish russet
dotted the olive lind;
freckled crimson,
a chestnut maroon,
on fuchsias faded apple green
as burnt umber sank deep
into its sanguine slumber.
This a favourite poem because it combines my two hobbies art and poetry
Copyright © Brian Strand | Year Posted 2007
Sub Categories
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.