When one thinks of the most powerful,
Atomic weapons come to mind; reasonable also
to consider the dynamics of volcanoes -- molten
soupy interior of the earth; how the planet
compresses and churns, convulsively until surface's
cataclysmic redesign. Which leads me to our parent sun,
so massive a cosmic generator -- it is difficult
for the awestruck mind to contemplate such great,
energizing potential...that thought finally leads back to what has really
mattered most in my life...what has had the most dramatic impact:
a most disturbing force while miraculously
healing...purest affections personified
while utter despairs optimized~ glorious rockets of
triumphant flares! My desperate failures. Therefore, little
need for continuing such a convoluted quest, when Love, above all else,
clearly~ is creation's very worst and best.
The breath-taking rhythm and rhyme of the cosmic music
Venus dances in a little circle around the Earth.
Composed of five heart-shaped movements, psychotherapeutic
Isn't she the embodiment of love, beauty, and mirth?
Comprehensive courses in cohesion and cognition
Heart-shaped inferior and superior conjunction
A form akin to the petals of a primrose fission
spins clockwise on her axis with a flesh-blood affection.
Be gentle, sensitive, and compassionate. Venus says
Taste a planet of beauty, harmony, and aesthetics.
Unravel the mysteries of your romantic world ways
She presents and inspires gem-like feminine magnetics.
Problem-solving, risk-taking, compassion, all so intense
Your dance, O Venus, ever compresses good or bad sense.
Upon the barren tree, the last leaf clings tight,
Between the branches, it holds on with might,
Unable to escape, able to see,
It waits for the wind to set it free.
I've witnessed the blossoms of spring in bloom,
The whispers of leaves in summer's perfume,
Roses kissed by dew, love in the sun's rays,
Sunflowers chasing the sun's golden blaze.
As seasons change, like the passage of years,
The leaves on trees quiver, their end draws near,
The wind blows, dust devils dance in the air,
Leaves fall to the ground without a care.
As the last leaf, I gaze upon the view,
The valley, hills, adorned with vibrant hue,
A painting that changes, day by day,
Though colors fade, its beauty won't betray.
The nights grow colder, filled with ghostly cheer,
Halloween approaches, drawing near,
Children in the streets, seeking sweet delight,
Jack-o'-lanterns glow, casting eerie light.
As the last leaf, my days are not endless,
I cherish my view, as time soon compresses,
Eventually, I will join the earth’s embrace,
But please keep me safe, as a bookmark’s grace.
Her eyes scream silver carnage,
The glitter of white death,
The glare of shining ice
In the gloom of coffee shop forenoon.
Clouds obscure the sun
As pain destroys his lungs,
Searing orb light
Scrapes his face,
Freezing rips his flesh.
Her glance,
The flash of open eyes,
Erupts with numbing frost---
The unknown heat of burning foreign gales
Sweeps through him.
Tearing swift and silent
From her glossed and pale eyes,
A solid sheet of lightning, earthbound, dances,
Scorching ice---
Flickering, unleashing sombre brooding lustre.
Sparkling silence in the peaceful calm
Compresses, folds, collapses,
Forcing air to leave his chest
In desperate surrender...
Borne on frenzied rivers of the rushing light,
She pulls him under,
Tows him down---
The crushing pressure of her eyes can kill.
Don't look away
Or stop to breathe
Or break the pearl spell---
The crystal bond
In half dead light
Above our coffee cups.
Some more mocha java,
My chickadee?
Flight by Terence Cummings-Smith,
I ride the path ballistic,
in a screaming, scorching arc.
From perigee in flaming hell
to apogee far beyond Arcturus.
Neutrons and tachyons spray,
from magnetic nozzles.
Through burning twisting vortex,
of syncopated space and time.
Reality compresses into pinpoint ultraviolet before,
Mote infrared behind.
My very thoughts lingering,
most far behind.
Time's march freezes,
rolls retrograde.
Nuclei dance, atomically chattering,
Quarks trance.
And I'm there.
SPLINTERS
an
overwhelming
image
wraps itself
around
the tension
compresses
space
with ambiguity
of perspective
splintering
the
idea of
being
the
actuality
of seeing
the
metaphysical
the&
emotional
distinction
unconfined
&
inexpressible
engaged
in the
physical
appreciation
&
connection
of
the collective.
significance
NOTE:THIS IS AN OPEN(organic) FORM VERSE using spaces&breaks without grammatical symbols ,the ' open' relies upon 'the one breath limitation' & so inherently requires the 'reader' (reciter) to input and responds thus making this enigmatic form a two way interplay & interpretatIon unique to the moment& changing according to mood is inherently variable.
Copyright © Brian Strand
her spine that musical instrument
I strummed plucking sounds chords and tones
in axis, the toothed vertebra
she turned her head saying she knew
everything I know she didn't know
about heathen nights and their shifting moons
or all jesus christs in christianity but it's a lie
as I climbed my fingers now in atlas
carefully completing the bone contour
even in her eye there was a grimace
the rain started at that unexpected time
hence the absurd and sudden silence of the dogs
before scared of the moonlight.
I have walked these medullary paths for centuries
watching a vertebrate world under warm skin
the panting breath of one who will love
and on the outside the metamorphosis that makes us replicate
honeyed songs and languid concepts of what's sensual
because the touch that compresses the column
squeezes and grabs the body planet by the spine
allows me to foresee the rheumatic pain of tomorrow
the thorny gorges we'll walk through in trauma
sneaking us away from the blatant truths
that no one really wants to know.
A name i detest to be called.
My chest compresses as i travel back in time,
An asphyxiating guilt, back then so conscious,
Each day I was chained to hatred.
Memories draw in, of me bawling over my weight,
Arms crossed across , wishing for a sweet escape
Goals and dreams I had surrendered all,
In the battle with those tormenting ghouls.
As I plunged myself into vicious thoughts,
Consequences were weighed upon my tired soul,
Being abandoned to a fate so broken,
Surviving wasn't living, I accepted this token
So now a tattered picture is all I see...
Never nor ever was I bargaining for sympathy,
A mental struggle that had forced me to be,
To recover, perhaps was the only chance,
To fill my cup of despicable emptiness,
Up to its brim, overflowing with fulfillment.
In the beginning there was a "Big Bang"
God spoke and the universe ring
Everything in the universe sing hail to the King
He said Light Be, light was and light is and always will be seen
Light and sound was heard as the universe expand on demand
All of life compresses into a single molecule
Explosion that never stop fractures matter
into galaxies, planetary systems setting to embrace eternal life
Breathing a new system of life
Through His sacrifice who paid the price
for human life.
Yes there was a big bang which still rings
the universe still sings out it's sound
nature sounds bringing new life through His sacrifice
It is Christ divine replacing embracing removing
all traces of negative places
a path that will last throughout eternity
What a big bang that sounds let freedom ring.
Fallen yellow leaves on withered leaves
The winter compresses all oddly
Sunlight comes but with not summer heats
Fallen yellow leaves on withered leaves
Flying snow with wind of coldness gist
Before hearth drinking wine brings warmth glee
Fallen yellow leaves on withered leaves
The winter compresses all oddly
-22.12.2020 Chattogram
It's time
seconds slipping by
minutes in the hurry fly
hours in hesitation's wait
days lost of work and play gait
weeks gathered in forty hours
ends on Saturdays and Sundays showers
months strecthed into seasonal displays
years aging graying in the fray
decades passed quick away
time compresses all life's flowers
down to the present now in hours.
Not caring where the wind blows
Nor where the trees grow
Not even the glaring, watchful eyes of the birds
I run.
So many twigs and overgrown bushes
Fallen trees that block my path
And yet even they cannot stop me
I run.
Innocent forest creatures run beside me
Stumbling into my path
Confused as they are, hoping to stall me
Poor little things
For I am running.
Whatever spurred me
Scared as I was
Confined as I was
I cannot say I care
I am running.
The very air compresses me
Forcing my lungs for air
And just as I know the sun rises and sets
I know my time is ending
I slow down now
Still I move forward.
And before my thoughts can become coherent
I am gone.
I have nearly touched the ground to let death consume me
But the great bird has taken hold of me in his talons
I could never truly die.
I am back again
Imprisoned again
Beautiful as it may seem
What little freedom enjoyed still lingering in my mind
I am the forest maiden
I still remember the run.
In the frozen tundra
Nowhere has love been
feeling temperatures
never being here
Cold hearted plastic
No feeling in the rain
Haven't got tree branches
Dirty plates in the sink
Jagged rags, placed inside
Box of ices;
a feeding frenzy
A call of now...
a horse rejecting Purina dog chow
now you are carrying
A hurt reside
A messaged for you
You will survival
Hot compresses
Torn worn angry liquid water spaces
dirty dishes packed in
Wormy sandwiches
then placed in a box
Box of ices
04/03/14
written by James Edward Lee Sr.
Who Pulls The Trigger
The degree of difficulty diminishes
conscience and justice dim
the fog of zealous denial.
A trigger is squeezed
each millimeter
an agony
each millisecond
a lifetime.
Sharp recoil awakens reality
SCAN QUICKLY TO SLOWY
ACQUIRE TARGET, RESIGHT
resist the pressure
of the trigger
resist the resistance to it.
Death comes
sometimes quickly
always slowly.
The finger compresses
time, life, right, wrong
milliseconds
millimeters.
In a large office
a “leader”
looks at his hands
examines his nails
SCANS QUICKLY TO SLOWLY
ACQUIRES TARGET, RESIGHTS
This distant trigger finger
compresses a button
no conscience
no justice
no connection
to faces
dying.
1/9/2017
submitted to – You Say You Want a Revolution – Poetry Contest
Topsy-Turvy Love
Love turns the world upside down
slows the axial rotation
draws out passion’s sunset
compresses the hours together
shrinks the horizon to one face
cresting pillowed mountains.
5/2/2016
submitted to – Love Turns The World Around – Poetry Contest
sponsor – Nayda Ivette Negron
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.