Innocent life obedient to God
Poise without violence, greed or hate
Or any other sin of fallen man
These remnants from the Garden of Eden
An infinitude of cells covering the Earth
Making food from sunlight and water
Every day that the sun shines silently
Thankful beings open coloured smiles
Just being themselves forever fulfilled.
Talking to the plants and trees
Is like talking to God, to the air
Yet they do not understand nor care
But I receive responses from them
About longevity and strength
Patience and acceptance
Flexibility and abundance
Continuity and cyclic change
Constancy and calm
Solitude and stoicism
And the rewards of care and love.
Gardening is a religious experience
the avant-garde clan considered themselves intelligentsia
devoted to intellectual and cultural pursuits
wealthy?
yes.
intelligent? In some ways
but not intelligentsia.
true intelligentsia are illuminati.
advocates for social reforms
concerned for the less fortunate
builders, creators, endowers,
of hospitals and social services
this avant-garde clan was snobbish
felt they were better than most others
looked down at the peons
they lacked empathy, compassion and social consciousness
a friend told me that she thought illuminati means…
to sell your soul to the devil.
illuminati and intelligentsia are similar in meaning
these creeps possibly had sold their souls to the devil
their words were
me, me, me
I, I, I
not we we we
Coloring clouds with sparkling sapphire
filling them in with a clear blue sky;
Seamless strokes paint a glittery glow,
a happy thought’s an art deco gem;
Catching the light as if bathed in fire
nature’s potent muse pleases the eye;
Throwing a smile on every shadow
they brighten with fresh optimism;
A cyclone that leaves an all time low
gives way to an avant-garde prism.
Fearless Avant Garde fashion witch concocts love potion number twenty-three
A glorious new elixir that truly makes new sense of “blessed be”.
There are many who watch her create this mysterious recipe.
Dancing with the ambiance of this sleek classy newcomer witch named Fee.
Our Daily Bread
David J Walker
Give us this Day
Our daily bread
As the garden grows in rows of
Mimicked articulation
I stand
Shovel in hand
The morning's supplication
Interrupted by the rising sun
The morning song sung
by the
Turtle dove flawlessly
Accomplished perfection
Give us this day
By the rising Son
The twilight absorbed
In the eastern sky
The morning will fly
And the day
will be done
as I stand guard
in the garden
Two Woodpeckers dueled as she slyly seduced them.
John G. Lawless
©3/18/022
Book of Breathings
David J Walker
Cruel clock
Supernatural sail
A false friend
in the wind
blending in
To a breeze
at the speed
Of a whirlwind
Tell me again
about your tomorrow
the sorrow comes with the dawn
in time to
Borrow phrases
from the model
of an avant-garde lexicon
Carved by men in caves
Painted in pen
In the
Book of Breathings
before we are gone
and gravity claims us all
AVANT GARDE
contemporary implications
delicate
exquisite & appropriate
a startling
formality
habitual
accepted
simultaneous&
hectic
aspects
freely
integrated
evident not posed
loose bland
austere & severe
monumental
versatile
indisputable
impatient&
absolute
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
Soaked up the atmosphere of Montmartre
Found café enjoyed French citron tart
Double shot of coffee went down so well
Then I heard the Sacré-Coeur bell.
With hand on my heart, I honestly say
The shades of the past forever hold sway
There's something unique about Montmartre
Air so different totally avant-garde.
Picasso, Lautrec, and my favourite Monet
Inhabited these streets and with colour did play
With hand on my heart under azure blue dome
Healing achieved its Montmarte syndrome.
With Hand on My Heart
Poetry contest
Sponsored
by
Mystic Rose
23/10/2021
Battalion column coup de grace;
It’s what was planned, but didn’t work that way.
We’ve bled all our embarrassments
At bayonet point and now must cede the day.
God damn the blasted cavalry;
They’ve left this muddy field a bloody pool.
All hell for the artillery;
I’d like to face one gunner in a duel.
It’s over, done and finished with.
The very best withdraw in disarray.
La Garde reculé.
Advancing the soul,
metaphysical orc, promote
original thinking,
experience all, I need sleep.
https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCgZCmCJJoCVwq2M3GH8VzLQ
our swords unsheathed
it is our time to spar
sparing no blows
no matter
how hard
flesh feels the wounds
with love and lust filled
thrusts trusting
to make a mark
scar the heart
pain changes to bliss
torturing each other
with touch just so
then i give in
taking
your sword in hand
guiding it towards
a hole made
many months
ago showing
you where i want
you to take me
even if
a little
death
is all i get
please
kill me
every
day
merci
Your avant-garde home fills a crucial niche
ensures the perpetuation of outrageous kitsch
The painting on the wall entitled 'Insemination'
keeps this admirer on the brink of regurgitation
That chlorophyll-fish oil drink your butler foisted on me
helps me every fifteen minutes or so to pee
As for your 'petrified out-of-water deep sea plants'
Don't look now; they're on fire with carpenter ants
Then there's your 'mahvelous' retro pet rock collection
pinched, no doubt, from the local House of Corrections
I must confess that your house is, indeed, quite impressive
~ considering that your compulsions are beyond obsessive
Artist
Play with colors on canvas, impressionist, naturalist and poetry connoisseur
I have two daughters, a brother and a sister
I love archaic rocks, pristine nature, and butterfly flutter
I feel content with small things, grateful for help, and divine pleasure
I fear to find me in dark, to lose my dreams, and to see relations split asunder
I would like to see a peaceful world, tolerant people, and equality of gender
Resident of an eastern ancient land
Avant-garde.
January 15, 2019
Contest : Writing Challenge 2, January 2018 Bio
Sponsored by : Dear Heart
I hold my sword in my hand.
Wield it with skill and precision.
Watching my opponents.
Knowing when to advance,
Lunge.
Slight Attaque au fer to start.
Parry.
Waiting for that opening.
Passe.
Passbackwards.
Parlee.
Position is everything.
Knows well.
passbackwards.
Feint.
There lunge, in vein.
With quick step, yielding parry.
Prise de fer.
Coupe.
Under the intellect of
My pen.
My sword.
Touché.
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