Holiday Fun Limerick Contest 1-9-25
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Holiday Fun
Frosty the snowman liked tricks
Consumed apple juice for kicks
Left yellow puddles
We were befuddled
Yellow snow flowed from his...wick?
Dear Santa Claus feels so uneasy
Wears velvet jockies, quite cheesy
His new braces pop
His red trousers drop
Jockies exposed, buns feel breezy.
Mischievous elf on the shelf
Played tricks when sending prized delft
Holiday distress
Reversed the address
Sent my gift back to myself.
Mother said, “Avoid the bilge,”
Keep your dreams clear, don’t let them delve.
No depth in anger, nor strife,
“Steer clear of paths where woes are felt.”
Do not let your heart be like a delft,
Cold and rigid, set by a protective shelf.
Live close to the warmth, shun the frosty guise,
Let no icy barriers govern your heart’s ties.
Happiness isn’t found in mere eighths,
It blooms in each breath, in small and grand states.
Life’s not a problem to be conquered or braced,
But warmth in moments cherished, unspoiled, and embraced.
When the world feels coated in a sticky glaze,
Remember, love’s the beacon to guide you through the haze.
Mother said, “In all your face, stay near warmth's embrace,
Value love and moments, not the race.”
In the warmth of a hearth, not the delft,
Dreams unfold, and joy is felt.
Mother said, “In all things you see,
Stay true to warmth, and let it be.”
Self-Portrait 1-12-24
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Still Life with Cheeses, Almonds and Pretzels
Still life, not stillborn,
With a woman’s face
In dusky background hues,
Pure clarity clothed in white,
Gazing on gastronomic abundance.
Artist of the banquet
One step behind –
The woman’s place of her time -
Guardian of the sweet rewards
Served like bridal wine,
Topping the earthen vessel
Of embryonic fermentation.
In a cradle of fine delft
Consummated almonds,
Mellow figs
Ripe fruit
Conceived out of ravenous rapture
Confinement released in harvest’s fare
In signatures of arms crossed -
Daily bread – gifts of finest wheat –
Served with golden curls,
Crushed seeds of grain
Birthing beauty’s fullness.
Above this feast of still life
A woman smiles
Her signature waiting to be discovered –
Waiting for the invitation to emerge
From the shadow!
The Language of Blue
Sinking into the lyrical language of blue
Prime layers of still solitude speak
With muted voices
In sapphire soprano rhapsodies,
Lines of bass blushes, electric flecks of neon fire.
Hear in dusky blue’s modal shafts of light,
The peaceful plaintive sotto voce
Set an indigo scene
In delft lingua for a pas de duex
With trebling hues lapis and arbot.
Blue chants a lexis, a cerulean chroma glow
Sung in tender tenor tones patois
To translate soft sky blue aqua idioms,
As minor phrases meditate on azure,
In prose text that wafts in periwinkle blooms.
Unhurried blue on blue in plain-chant paeans,
Whispers and bedazzles teal twilight librettos
Of cradle songs in soft celeste waves
Of cobalt midnight in the consoling,
And the mystic, language of blue.
11-3-21
Contest: Blue
Sponsor Mystic Rose Rose
Trebling = triple
Arbot is a shade of blue
Chroma means glow
I’m going for an angiogram
With slanted rhymes I state my plan
In verse and meter try to cram
My words with all that old flim-flam
Since Days when I lay in my pram
This ticker’s beat to master plan
Ticked off more than expected span
Now due rewind for tick tock scan
My next door neighbours: Stan and Pam
Eat only vegetarian
They chew, with cake holes full of yam
Eschewing lamb and ram and spam
But me, I’ll go for an Angio ‘cram’
That feeds my heart with special jam
Revealing truth on x-ray scan
To Doc Achan - cos he’s da man
So let’s hear it for the Angiogram
It tells what’s what in there, no sham
Like portrait by an old Dutch man
Displayed in Delft or Amsterdam
Then if for me it goes to plan
With prayer and blessed by God and man
And cardiology grand slam
My heart still pumping boom bang-a-bam
The coffee cup, cracked,
the newspapers, stacked,
the teaspoon, tarnished, well used.
The bills neatly piled,
the kitchen, Delft tiled,
the face, time worn and bruised.
The phone in the hall,
for no one to call,
the pendulum clock still ticking.
The photos, well thumbed,
jam stained and crumbed,
old wounds, in need of some licking.
Words said in haste,
that left a bad taste,
the slam of the door like thunder.
The pain of separation,
a cardiac laceration,
two people, two lives, torn asunder.
And now the clock scolds,
as the wrinkled hand holds
the only letter received, scrawled in haste.
Of the need to be free,
and how it must be,
when two hearts disagree, what a waste.
Just the town children ne'er
feasted a forest of one tree's
in a labyrinth of the uninvited
stirs like cream in cocoa
--rightfully aloof
Their eyes steeped in a delft brew
brimmed by clamourous whispers
of an ephemeral sound alights a tortoise
yet ne'er have tea
--unwittingly
Juxtaposition compares bears none to
contrast, ne'ertheless, true to form,
town children
--they'd be.
Date: 09/06/2019
Grammar Series
SECOND CONDITIONAL
If I were a gambling man as my sin;
(I confess an occasional flutter)
Then if I had an acceptable win,
I would buy myself some new schmutter *
Note: it would make my verse more refined
If instead of "if I..." I wrote "we're I" and "had I"
Then perhaps The Immortal Bard would not mind
And Jane Austin would give me the glad eye
While I may forgive modern language’s slur
Wanting that which is sadly defunct, if
We avoid "if I was", rather say: "if I were"
Mindful that we are using subjunctive
Now the First Conditional suits admonishment
By uncles from Amsterdam, Delft or Utrecht **
While the Third is rueful and penitent
For sins of commission or those of neglect
But the Second tops my panoply
And it always has me beguiled
Inspiring creativity, phantasy
And imagination run wild
E.G.
Had I the combined wit of Wodehouse, and Wilde
I would put my pen to write such a tale
That would make the face of God crack a smile
And the heavens to burst in a giggling gale
Amsterdam vibrant with
Bells of red trams and blue bikes
Canals sparkling night lights
Delft facades rising tall and slim in misty air
Energy of never sleeping coffeeshops of laissez-faire life
First Place Winner: Sara Kendrick-Let's Do Some Alphabet/1010/17
That pensive look on her sweet face
Just like a child of mine.
Her eyes seem to follow you with
Dominion that's divine.
Northwest light on soft blush hued cheeks
Her grey-green eyes lay bare
Perhaps a secret rendezvous
In enigmatic stare.
Wet lips stained as if with cherries
Delft blue scarf hides her hair...
In penchant blossom of her youth
Portrait of beauty rare.
From her left ear hangs gracefully
One solitary pearl.
Melancholy hints, she may be
A woman, yet a girl.
May 3, 2017
Note:
Johannes Vermeer's 'Girl with a pearl earring'
c.1665 Mauritius Museum, The Hague.
The Dutch artist was born in Delft in 1632-1675.
One of the key paintings in Vermeer's oeuvre,
this portrait resists all attempts at the precise
identification of the sitter. It's charm, perhaps,
lies in the fact that it is an evocative expression
of timeless female beauty. I viewed this masterpiece
in 2009. She has the entire wall to herself.
Freak en got my mind rolling ..
Like the rolling stones on pavement...
I've delft with worse, now I'm just handling karma's payment...
I'm in a Freak en group home trying to stay up ..
You might not understand but now you know whats up..
Life has something set for me, but for now I'm living off sympathy...
I'm not gonna deny it i pray on my knees..
But i will die standing on my feet..
Grew up in the hood but now producing instrumental beats..
Family gone like a cry lost at sea..
I'm in over my head in times to come ..
But have a spirit that sticks with me like piece of gum..
Aham...please don't judge the person that i am..
Because one day you'll realize your messing with the man..
:AztrRokLue Productionz
Each year in May, as Jacarandas bloom,
A carpet of sky is strewn across the grass.
Mother Nature wears her delft costume,
With a breezy sweet perfume none can surpass.
And we beneath these blossomed boughs assume,
true love upon a bed of azure petals.
The sky overhead a delft blue, solid and true
lay over a lake glacial of a pristine hue.
In its reflection a bounty of yellow broom
joining earth and heaven, a marvelous venue.
A forest of staunch evergreens stand like statues
protecting mans homestead from the wind's avenue,
all strands of the wide Universe upon God’s loom
celebrating the beauty of natures virtue.
Ringed about by mountainous alpine retinues
reaching upward, toward heaven, so one may construe
that each of us waits in His earthly ante-room
praying our hearts are not too filled with rue.
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