Do you have skeletons in your closet
I have a few in mine …
They jingle, jangle, jingle
~ a frame for my composite
the mirror split
within the look
of sight
the aptest
share was near
snags come from
prognosticated
I see it strew
like ice melting
yet it was vivid
& heart
was sobbing
from my
caught
metacarpus
where I drove
the staring
fragment i
turned it to
attempt & stop
the red
drippings
1st place contest winner
Written: May 10, 2022
NOTE:THIS IS AN OPEN(organic) FORM VERSE without grammatical symbols the ' open' relies upon 'the one breath limitation' & so inherently requires the 'reader' (reciter) to input and respond thus making the form a two way interplay and often a unique interpretation by the enigma so derived
A Brian Strand Premiere Choice Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Brian Strand
Taking into account; the Poeter's quip
Shant it be unfurled to reveal thine
Penned and newly coined path of authorship
Paying out the Poeter’s plumb line
Veering from the course
Plotting new wave points
Carting the next rhyme before the horse
Beginning each line with the next conjoint
Taking time to proceed; and dote
Forsaking time tested ways
Remaking each verse concave and connote
Breaking the norm; within this phrase
Plucking the strings of a mental violin
That one trains to adroit and therein
Making each intellectual a rational linchpin.
Maple trees on both sides of Nineteenth Street
closed down the evening sky.
In a slight uncovered slice a single star
was made to burn the brighter
by this focusing framework.
I wonder, were your drapes drawn not quite tight
to burn your beauty on the night?
Within a fecundity of fatuity
Squandered were all endeavors
Fazed I eluded
Unequivocal passion was sought
Yet still squandered were all endeavors
Candid without knowledge
Lacerated and forsaken
Forlorn I languished
Betwixt the vacuous cracks
Of black and white pavements
Picture this…
Born 1959
Living 50 years
Not remembering half
Picture this…
Looking at old photos
Living 50 years
Not remembering half
Picture this…
Pictures of others
Where are you?
Not being in more than half
Picturing pictures
Of my youth
Searching for the key
Not remembering, where to look?
Found the books
Pictures seen
Frame by frame I glance
Out of focus they all seem
Present doesn’t connect to past
Lines have all but eroded
Discolored images, torn edges
Inability to renew
Those are just pictures
Lingering in my mind
Connection is not lost
Time needed to mend
Lines may have faded
Images slightly darkened
Renew the pictures in my mind
Jesus Christ, come shine on me
The Forty-Fourth Conscript of the People.
A portrayal of intellectual and political multiformity.
Its present-nature is captivating and inspiring,
Its epochal-nature is unmarred and univocal,
And its future-nature is unknown and essential.
An Intermediary of faith in change,
Stirring echos of "Yes, we can!"
Rendering credences of optimism,
Stimulating the honesty of a republic,
And awakening the unconscious hope of mankind.
This recipiency dims the light of yesteryear,
And proceeds into an age of hueless expectancy.
The framework of the Framers is framed
high in the halls of Academia
now it is obscured by flags and colors
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