Your heart has a yearning
And a burning desire
To share what you’re learning
Like voices of a choir
Small pieces of paper
With the things you have thought
A con or a caper
How the villain was caught
No time is a wrong time
If you wake up at night
With a thought of a rhyme
Then you know you must write
Watching movies with you
Your friends do not enjoy
For you catch every clue
And discern every ploy
And time seems to fly by
When you sit down to write
With that glint in your eye
There is no end in sight
You longed for the teacher
To ask each for a story
You wrote down your feature
Of our flag called, “Old Glory”
Friends with the dictionary
Filled with word after word
To some it seemed scary
When the big words they heard
But not to the writer
You knew you’d become
A reader delighter
You knew you’d please some
So write on forever
As your stories you tell
A writer so clever
Right inside you doth dwell
BLOTISTA
random
evolution
to stimu!ate
creative imagination
by
haphazard
happenings
Emerald Waves crashing, lapping,
frolicking on the tranquil seashore….
I watch, I reminisce, I close my eyes…
alone, standing on a cliff!
A Buddhist temple on the sublime shore,
chimes soaring from above,
I drown myself in a tranquil reverie,
inspiring my creative imagination.
Aha, I remember my serene childhood,
remember the days when revelling
on the shore with the playful waves,
hear the blithe giggle of my little friends,
each day was a blissful experience!
I stand on this cliff,
there is no noise except the waves rising and falling,
From this height, the world seems an enormous wonder,
My whole life seems to manifest itself,
I feel like a traveller from the ancient world,
walking through the ages,
crossing seas and oceans,
hills and dales of the universe…
Am I walking for thousands of years,
In search of love, kindness,
and inner Peace!
Human ingenuity leapfrogs beyond ordinary
Buoying upon wings of intellectual curiosity
Sustaining innovation, creative imagination,
Breaking barriers once thought impenetrable,
Daring to conquer the arduous, unknown~
Resistant to understanding, inert to inquiry.
Unfathomable is force of scientific curiosity
That opened doors to discoveries, inventions:
Telescopes that explore the origin of universe,
Space flights landing on Moon and Mars,
Defying gravity, exceeding the speed of sound;
Telephones, electricity, computers, automobiles,
Untold preventive medicines, therapeutics,
Vaccines holding in check reign of pandemics,
Treatments for diseases, cure for hepatitis,
Nuclear fusion searching new source of energy
Reducing emissions to sustain life on earth.
Curiosity is the flame of wisdom, inspiration,
Lifeline for mortality pursuing life and liberty;
Promise of yesterday, today, and tomorrow,
For explicating phenomena less understood,
For guiding aspirations of cognitive intellect,
For directing journey on roads not traversed.
January 8, 2023
Placed 1st: This or That, Vol 15 Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Edward Ibeh
Existential graph of
graphical language
Classical narrative
causalities anguish
Expressive instrument
exposing our emotions
Simple and untainted
intuitive senses devotion
There is a glamour to it
a perfection or symmetry
Creative imagination
uncensored chemistry
Breaking free from the
confines of reality
Thoughts give way to
change in time actually
Provoking insight into the
depths of imagination
Standing by ones own
creative narration
Visionary so liberating
and disoriented
Leaving our words
somber or animated
Spectrum of our expressions
gives one a completeness
Permanence of conquest will
never embrace the meekness
Drifting along on tranquil opportunities
Embellished within the nicest ingenuities
Animating all your stanzas and verses
Giving meaning to them with so much purpose
Never holding back your promises of more
While you add creative imagination galore
Exploring your lines amongst their transition
Acknowledging their intent being my mission
Intuitive cartographic portrayed expression
Removing all of the unwanted indiscretion
Appreciating each of our distinct differences
Regardless of consequences or significance
Influenced characteristics written in script
Gliding along your mind’s many swells and dips
Returning the potential to a clear lucidity
Gracefully floating on your unwavering fluidity
Riding upon your flow of subtle illustrations
Conspicuous gallantry with trusted fixation
Emotions I feel when experiencing your words
While listen to your pieces that you record
Leaves me forever lost in your articulation
Evoking my soul, giving my undying adoration
Hair like fine spun gold,
Not a curl in sight.
Eyes of azure blue,
that sparkle with delight.
A cute, turned up nose,
And a Mona Lisa smile.
Creative imagination,
But not a speck of guile.
Graceful little gymnast,
She's as limber as can be.
Watching her perform,
She didn't get it from me.
She's a beauty and a charmer,
And she knows it very well.
She knows just what to say and do,
To put us under her spell.
She's living in Kentucky now,
Which is far away from me.
If only she lived closer,
How happy I would be.
3/27/21
I am obsessed with the feel of the new book
Opened in my hands, fingers running down
The center binding; lifting it to my nostrils,
Taking in the musky smell of new ink on page,
Before allowing myself the distinct privilege
Of reading the opening lines, then plunging
Headlong into the author's creative imagination.
I caress it between my hands, rubbing them
Across the front, the back, down the binding
Once, twice, again; I claim this book as my own;
I envision it resting on my bedside table, then
In my reading room next to other coveted works
I have collected and treasured since boyhood.
I hold it to my breast as I approach the cashier--
Not really wanting to hand it over to her to price.
Soon, it will be entirely mine! I am in love again.
The affair grows until the final page is turned,
Until I have laid it down and begun to think about
My new lover in the little bookshop on Oak at Vine.
FIRST PLACE WINNER
Written March 16, 2021
Submitted to "My Obsession" Contest
Sponsored by Regina McIntosh
As transparent Christmas was
With creations of model toys and Yo-Yos
Christmas was a blast for this one small boy
With dreams of sugar plums and joy
Guessing and wanting just one simple toy
Hours of pleasure with a creative imagination
From pretending then becoming a real situation
A world of wonder with intriguing thinking
Has become the Casper of Christmas passed
Games are now taking this once creative world
Becoming a mind of dumber and dumber
Losing it’s power to create and only follow
Tricking the mind into believing it’s creating
Machines taking over mans power of creations
Leaving behind a new way of thinking
With buttons being pushed while seeing images
Talking into a box and getting a response
With faceless expression or smiling reactions
Stealing away any physical temptations
Losing a portion of mankind's interactions
The Casper Ghost of Christmas Passed
Is now a Mindless Ghost of Christmas Future
Scaring away Casper the once Friendly Ghost
Of: Christmas Passed
Propelled with creative imagination insight
While geared along miraculous great faith’s might*
I’d manufacture wondrous wheel chairs of wings’ delight
For special children’s optimized mobility flight toward freedom-height.
Built within every amazing wheel chair is a super-functional device
To assist blessed kids to become more communicatively wise
As they receive good advice against deceitful disguise
Empowered to tell the truth while discerning lies.
Notable wheel chairs, custom-made are marked with love’s security
Sealed with peace-filled guarantee, along patience as patented quality
Bearing stamp of parents’ approval around victorious certainty
Painstakingly produced upon prayer’s tenacity.
*Ecclesiastes 9:10 Whatsoever thy hand findeth to do, do it with thy might…
May 22, 2020
2nd place, "...So What Is My Factory Going to Make" Poetry Writing Contest
Sponsored by Caren Krutsinger; judged on 6/2/2020.
I close my eyes and see
Flower tipped waves.
Purple coloured tram lines
As far as the eye can see.
I’m transported to Provence
Or I’m with the monks on Caldey Island.
A scented calm washes over me
My mind as come to rest
the power of a flowers fragrance
this day does not now feel so daunting
the trials can come and go.
This poem is brought to you by Frebreze
and my creative imagination.
Those who have lost vision seek definition.
Does purple have a taste?
Alas, grapes are not always palatable in purple.
Some things leave an aftertaste that can last a lifetime.
Bitterness is not majestic like magenta.
Some would say opium tastes plum crazy;
produced by pretty purple poppies.
Creative imagination needs no such simulation.
Fantasy and photography send my senses reeling;
reminiscent of a reimagined yesteryear,
when under the influence of a blue moon and red wine,
we crooned to the pain of Purple Rain.
Now I remember how purple passion tasted at twilight.
Purple is savory, like a cocktail of nostalgia,
and of love that never happened.
Photo credit: Chris Hanson
the moments of children are endless
until time intervenes
imagination filled joy claims the light of day
how small their world, and yet
how vast their kingdom
where the next thought is another minute of fun
not escaping the world
rather...living in it for all the happiness to come
free from worry or concerns
where responsibility is foreign and unknown
and play, is there to be captured
by creative imagination in their world of dreams
when the mind of a child is unafraid to explore
every thought, that freely flows, unrestrained
from the burdens of failure
a time to pass through, to be remembered when old
when we were touched by the breath of God
and called Angels
11/6/17 contest Photo Story...picture # 1
I'm a big star and I'm burning bright, that was the first encouragement from someone on poetry soup who needs to remain nameless less his celebrity status leaks out because he's encouraging a poor broken artist like me because he used to be in that place, and I just came across this song in my records reminding me of the places I've been, the places I am in now, and the places I need to be in my future endeavors. Being unchained and free to creative your own reality, now that's really an artists living and breathing not the livelihood of spending money on excessive things. Writing your times and your minds finds in emotional turmoil is better than Prozac or Abilify or Oxicodone or whatever they push on people to numb them from the reality of the creative imagination in being real. Thanks again and in listening to BEAUTIFUL BROKEN. the song by HEART, in my tribute to your encouragement.
Struggling with words,
that once flowed like rivers pouring from my mind
The quiet that is, not understood
as distance between what was creative imagination
and a blank stare into space widens
Should I explore its reasons?
To find the birth of silence, walk its cobbled path
searching along its edges seeking troubled quarters
which may give light to darkness
Could that I hold a lamp above what's found
exploring in detail its shadows
in hopes of finding answers that reveal my minds distance
of what once was
the crying of my soul out in the wilderness
needing to be heard
now silent
as I lay in the darkness, to sleep
4/15/17
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