Draping Poems | Examples

I Am Orange

When tint of duskfall weaves through a cloud
I spill lacquered paint on bays, ashore
my gold-red shades draping sand.  Endowed
with citrine flame of sky , I soar:

Call me ambrosia  too. Just outside,
nectar drips from  marmalade nights
honey  and  cantaloupe bless my glide--
O I'm there...when slice of dawn alights !

Thorny Destiny

Some say he's a prophet
others swear he's the son of God
some say he was just a man
still others say he never existed at all.

I think he was the original hippie 
a supreme giver -who taught takers
how to give without motive
how to love without condition
to ask for forgiveness after sin.

Jesus would have stowed away on slave ships 
salving hope and snapping chains.
He'd have blocked the ovens of Auschwitz
volunteered at no kill animal shelters
and food pantries.
He would've made manna out of bullet casings...
arrested again, again and again
for weaving a giant peace sign and rosary
draping them over the pentagon, Kremlin
and the forbidden city-
He'd share wineskin, a bowl of Mexican gold
then lie down under tie-dyed sky and dream.

It was really never meant to be...
the prince of peace was hammered into thorny eternity.

REMAINS AND DECREES

I crossed the archives as one walks through a field of ruins.
Decrees were bones, dogmas were nails.
Kings signed treaties in ink darker than darkness, a pact forged in daggers.
Papal bulls oozed blood beneath God's varnish.
Codes etched the systematic animalization into stone.
They legislated hell, administered suffering, theorized the slaughterhouse.
Even science became an executioner,
draping contempt in formulas and measured skulls.
I didn’t read history, 
I breathed it,
its ashes glued to my lungs,
its screams wedged in the margins.
They crucified continents for their gems,
their plantations, their ores, and their silences.
They told me: progress.
But I saw boots pressed to throats.
They told me: forget.
But the graves still speak.
They told me: democracy.
I saw tanks circling the ballot boxes.
And you, West, with your carnivorous grin,
you demand forgiveness without returning the bones.
You scream values with your pockets full of plunder.
You dress up your hunger as mission.
You baptize your rape as liberation.
You persist, you insist, you gorge yourself.
But our memories are neither dead nor tame.
They sharpen.

Autumn Scene

Climbing cotton clouds float away 
across canvas of summer sky. 
Birds bathe in blue bay, 
to amber nest they fly.
Autumn comes with golden spray. 
 
Sunburst horizon’s chromatic drape drawn, 
splits sunbeam in spectral splendor.
Sky spills colors of dawn, 
air sways cinnamon grass slender
in malachite meadow, turning fawn. 

The crown of topaz dew 
shines with morn’s opaline glow. 
Draping cinnabar garden with hue  
sepia trees grip ground fallow,
leaves echo fall’s footfall new.

Spanish moss

strands of silver green
Spanish moss draping from trees
swaying in the breeze

A Court of Spoils

You were crafted from grace and intellect
A masterpiece of resilience, standing firm in your unwavering independence
Yet you have an innate desire 
To be adorned with affection, cherished like royalty.
 
Let me be the jester in your court,
The fool who revels in devotion,
Showering you with laughter, draping you in love,
For your joy is the crown I wish to serve

spaghetti kaftan

.

       from thuh straps draping
               hern shoulders
                   it's linen
            flowing unto hern
           hip's limb'z tramp's
                     digits
                 mine eyne
                   roam'd

       it's soft blueberry drape
                  outlined
                 hern taut
                     gift

            mine unwrap'd
                 Frenetic

               thuh sylph 
                her eyne 
                  almost
           exophthalmous 
                 her lips
                trembled
           az aft her dome
                 flump'd

             hern grateful 
        echo'd through thuh
                  forest

Age Of Hate

Who now can find lost love,
In a world grown cold and gray?
Hearts once tender, bruised and bare,
Turned to ash in disarray.

Eyes turned to the sky,
Seeking solace in the stars,
But the heavens hold their silence,
Bound by time's eternal scars.

Then comes night, its velvet shroud,
Draping all in quiet despair,
While ocean waves and the restless sea
Sing their lament in the salted air.

Rivers and streams wind through the land,
Whispering tales of bygone years,
But the bushes and trees stand mute,
Heavy with unwept tears.

The age of hate has scorched the earth,
A barren field where love once grew.
Yet still, the breeze stirs faint and soft,
A fragile hope, a seed anew.

Who now can find lost love?
Perhaps the sky, the sea, the earth,
Together whisper of rebirth.

The vanishing Olive trees of Puglia

Ongoing rows of trees 
branches reaching binding 
crawling braiding trunks of 
olive trees capturing my senses 
warm breeze glides down my 
spine the ripened forestry handfuls 
delightful ripeness historic scenery 
as I mastered the monopoli landings 
the essence of extra virgin oils pour 
to perfection stored in tins we carry 
them between the lemon zest aroma 
of the countryside an afternoon filled 
with pacifying my fancy with a charming 
pinot noir settling down between the 
largest tree trunks split into from thousands 
of years of draping olives trees throughout 
the hillside magnificent magnitude strength 
balancing heritage while embracing culture
saving the old country the vanishing Puglia

Underwhelmed Amnesiac

I’m not an artist
I’m not a genius
I’m not the largest or coming of Jesus
I’m not even close
Or even at most
I’m just a ghost and I’m draping my clothes
I’m just a debt
Another regret
I’m just a notion that you should forget
Just forget my face
I don’t have a place
I’m just an outline that will be erased
A needle in hay
I’m whispered away
I am just passing through no I’m not here to stay
This was not bad
This wasn’t the worst
I won’t be the last and I won’t be the first
A light empty sigh
They lay me to die
I’m just passing through so you should say goodbye
Entered unannounced
Exiting here
I disappear

Fall Falls

Fall falls…
Draping the world in melodious whispers,
Gentling the spirit, drifting with stillness,
Stirring awake, the wonders of a heart
Who can see beyond the forest’s wise words,
to the world of joy lighted by rustling winds, 
undisturbed moments of grace, 
beliefs who agree, God Himself has blessed the days
as Autumn leaves its heavy sigh 
across the mountains, streams and nights…

Fall falls…
Singing of a star strewn sky who glistens,
alive, too pleasant to pass on by,
without impressions of the pine’s healing,
the laurels and the limbs, boldly moving
from the warmth of noon to twilight’s bruise,
lingering on the edge of a sensation,
fleeing the heartbreak, collecting joy
for the spirit’s consideration, the soul
flooded with the sound of beautiful, praying
praising so even the wind feels weary
of the sun’s shedding its tears,
restoring the burgundy tendrils of a heart
who can hear….

Fall falls…
and, I bleed crimson trails,
among the rust, gold and amber,
following the edge of September…

Splendor Of Nature

The brook murmurs as it flows on the plateau, 
across the draping emerald forest spread out opulent,
splashes on the curved contours of the lowland  
as flicking cascade of the soaring swan flock in flight.

It meanders on the jagged swathe clad with ferns, 
sprinkles with exuberance the splatter of pearls. 
It glides with sigh through the drizzle of rain, 
warbles in musical whisper with the ripple of air. 

Flying over the crystal water that wheezes as it flows,  
the returning robins chirp the springtime song.
As in the boughs of trees the new leaves rustle,
beguiled butterflies flitter around the flowers.

The shimmering night sky above the silhouetted canopy,
wears bejwelled crown shining with the twinkle of stars,
silver tinsels trickle through the moonbeam film, 
in a trance I’m charmed by the splendor of nature.

THE COLOR OF EVE

Amassed in tiny 
droplets formed 
on a windowsill 
like virgin tears 
of perfection... 
the night-bird's 
rendition of summer 
rain behind the backdrop 
of a trumpeter's smooth 
grooves melting beneath 
the warmth of
the enveloping sun. 

That was when she
drifted in, unassuming 
under a breeze 
of melodic waves 
like corners turn,  
sharp and definitive  
as a baby clef on 
the musician's highest 
notes shouting 
I Wanna Take You HIGHER... 
perfectly stained 
on a sheet 
tentatively titled 
the Color of Eve. 

Poised upon feathers 
of song subdued 
in blues she consumes 
the world around her,
spiraling between
mellifluous rhythms 
that sway her mind 
where her body 
dares not go...   
there, soulful nectar 
drips from her 
brow as the sun 
momentarily rests before 
draping her in 
a palette of warm 
sensations under dusk's 
lyrical awakening.

Her eyelids close 
as she arches 
back to feel 
the cool sound 
around her, becoming 
conjoined within 
it's many moods 
of blues and hues 
a denizen of
the moment embraced...  
emitting a scent 
so sweet 
that by dawn 
she leaves behind 
a confectionery trail
of perfect notes.

this scop's account

.

    if i'm asked to rein mine
              licentious 
                regard
              mine tap
          uv the auburn
           draping hern
              princess
          hern emerald 
                beam
            thick twixt 
                 hern
                digits

              uv hern
                digits
      inciting hern torso's
             orbiculars

            i just cun't

              i meant
                can't

All Around Us

From the delicate raindrops 
resting, draping from the treetops 
To the rich soil and velvet soft grass 
we dig our feet in
We breathe in the scent of fresh air
We open our eyes to see
The soft glow of the sunrise
The ever-glowing moon in the night sky
And we know
He surrounds us
Gives us everything we could ever need
Providing us with food
With a roof over our heads
A family we get to call our own

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