deep n cold, dark, jaded sky, cobalt
dirty clouds, rushing, tumbling pass
beneath broken trees, skeletons reach
each swim n sway scratching the sky
they dance n twirl, nightmares
silhouetted in hot light, strobes
quick blazes flare out into the night
leaving silhouettes burned in optics
in cones n rods, as neurons fire
the storm comes, thunder stumbles
distant rumbles cuts through
the silence, dark n deep, infinite
images echo, light refracts
shadows reflect, crisscross
an angry, threatening sky
the earthquakes in defiance
under a bruised firmament
tree limbs sway like skeleton dance
under the scorched heavens
that wake the electric divine
thunder drums as the storms come.
Categories:
flare out, allegory, allusion, angst, art,
Form: Free verse
"If your hate could be turned to electricity,
it would light up the whole world."
And if that hate rose up, and you like a volcano
shattered, bursting through every eclectic synapse
of your tortured brain; if your mind, it being so close to God
that no space could ever be in-between both,
then that hate would be blown into an infinitude
of charged particles, and those electrical smithereens
would flare out, magnify as a great expansion
to become in one instant innumerable suns
and thus the light of the world would be love eternally.
For love can be reborn from hate, but never
hate be birthed from love.
"Be alone, that is the secret of invention, be alone,
that is where Ideas are born."
Originality is not found in company. Aloneness
alone brings forth an Idea that will only arrive on its own.
Then quickly the many will also realizes that idea and claim it,
but the one who received that Idea from the One Mind
that one was alone.
Categories:
flare out, poetry,
Form: Free verse
No matter what anyone says to the contrary
I firmly believe in miracles, not the divine kind
Turning plain water into fine wine, necessarily,
But seeing a newborn deer first learning to run
A deaf child hearing sound for the very first time
A spectacular natural eclipse of the morning sun,
Tests confirming a dreadful disease is in remission
Watching an unfolding rosebud flare out in full bloom
Imagining complex formulas proving nuclear fission.
Miracles are often showing up in the smallest feat
Coming when least expected--in a windfall, a bonus
Or, just when we had given up all hope in defeat,
Victories over those formidable obstacles, you see,
Are identifiable, verifiable, bonafide miracles to me.
Written June 15, 2021
Categories:
flare out, inspirational, miracle, philosophy,
Form: Sonnet
Wearing whirls, swirls, paisley too.
A jazzy, snazzy, bell bottomed you.
Slinky hip huggers with large chunky belts in style.
White Go Go boots that never walk a country mile.
Faux fringed jackets, fake fur vests, tall high boots too.
Gypsy skirts with mismatched patterns of every hue.
Please let your belly button show, my dear.
Wear the tightest jeans to accent your rear.
As long as your jeans flare out as wide as a skirt
And drag along enticingly in Woodstock’s dirt.
Homemade embroidery on blouses, and dainty braids.
Unless you deem to do an Afro, beautifully made.
Tight mini-skirts that show off your thighs.
Nehru jackets with high necks are a prize.
Headbands made to match every outfit.
The 70’s was strutted. Don’t you doubt it!
Vietnam War in black and white, every night on TV
Burning bras seemed okay for everybody but me.
Hippies and flower children seemed pretty wild.
To me in the Midwest, pregnant with child.
Categories:
flare out, 10th grade, 11th grade,
Form: Rhyme
Thus have we fashioned, and thus have we paid.
Organic construction of such a base grade.
Functionalities meant to flare out and fade.
Such is the form of the Ferrimak Engine.
Purpose is hunger that we cannot sate.
So, in exchange, we pile 'pon the plate,
matter and memory, a smile is the bait.
To draw out the life of the Ferrimak Engine.
Material and law bind up our dreams,
though we are more free than it oft seems.
Fashion yourselves into marvelous beams.
Hold up the weight of the Ferrimak Engine.
In the end, what's left is not what's begun.
In the end, when the moon has conquered the sun.
28 October 2017
Categories:
flare out, humanity,
Form: Sonnet
Beneath the bushes and under the lemon tree
Little greenish sparkles of light
Flare out time and again with glee
When the sun goes down in the night.
Oh, its the willows!
Happily dancing and floating in the wind
Lighting up with little glows
When the garden is in the dark and blind.
Little bloops lighting a moment and disappearing in the next from bush to bush
A delightful wonder to watch
Glowing and then fleeing without a bush
When one tries to touch.
Its a game of hide and seek
That the willows play at night
And not a magician’s trick
And a beauty to wonder with delight.
The milky way of the sky with wide eye
Watches the game the willows play
As the little flares of light fly
From tree to tree, happy and gay.
All through the night the willows
Spread their wings and flutter from leaf to leaf
And when the dawn approaches with soft and mellowing glows
The stars and the willows disappear and go to sleep.
Categories:
flare out, self,
Form: ABC
SUNSET BEDTIME
The sunset kisses the ocean’s fragrant lips of salt,
Lapping ‘neath the sky’s purple veil and vault.
In perfumed mellow waters, in their glory golden,
Deep sighs the sun, great lazy yellow melon.
Glowing, flowing his way to rest, down drawn
To make love to the sleep-hazed horizon:
Their golden bed where fused desires deep
End in surging final flare-out - and then sleep.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Written 18 July 2012 by Sydney Peck
Entered in Francine Roberts’s Contest Top five Sunsets
Categories:
flare out, nature, passion,
Form: Couplet
When the fire burns low and the embers flare out
the cold and lonliness will creep in
And the sorrow will begin
The emptiness will find you there shivering
The saddness will watch you withering
when the fire burns low and the embers flare out
You will be there alone without that special someone
And the tears will come
Utter saddness shall find your heart
Your soul and spirit shall slip apart
So when the fire burns low and the embers flare out
I will be there
But only because I care
Categories:
flare out, devotion, love, fire, fire,
Form: Rhyme
SUNSET OVER THE SEA
The lagoon-mirror embraces the sunset.
Perfumed waters of evening
Are lapping at the shore’s lips.
Great yellow melon sun starts
To mull over the idea of rest and
To make love to the receptive horizon:
Their golden bed where fused intentions
End in sudden final flare-out and then sleep.
Our hunger is growing:
The fire of driftwood sparkles in anticipation,
Fish sizzle on the bar,
Smell draws two seagulls to wait
At a respectful distance,
Pecking at seaweed and empty shells.
We are all ready to eat,
And consummate the day.
Categories:
flare out, sea
Form: Imagism