Limbed Poems

Undergrowth with Two Figures

after the painting by Vincent Van Gogh


Does she even exist? Doubting her own reality,
seeing herself vanishing in undulating undergrowth,

fading and merging into summer-scorched scenery.
But cold lurks there beneath shafts of sunlight, phallic trees...

He wears the night underneath, a fabric of dark and unease,
his hand heavy upon her arm, silver-tongued charm

smooth as the silver-limbed leafless trees,
disappearing now on a twisting breeze...

Sinuous stems suffocate, writhing and thrashing;
convulsions of shuddering green and yellow.

Enticed ever deeper into flailing flowers,
evanescing into foam of frothing flora...

Did she ever truly exist? It's doubtful.
The flower-frail faceless and nameless

will always be lured and laid, invisible,
dissolving, under bare, phallic trees.

The Poetic Arts

Terminology:

Crystal booths in a nocturnal snow.
significant downpours of shedding stars.

This said, feel free to scatter, scrabble or mash.
Words are fungible,
many still believe that poetics
do indeed belong to the fungi family,
though some have been classified
as many-limbed Triffids
of the squishy kind.

Now throw moondust at the reader's eyes:

Obscurity is essential, however, first create a window
that opens to reflect the thrower.
Rain down upon the moondust until mud takes shape.
There are no words for this process,
so, make some up.

Flourish:

Without a final flourish the poet is left with a turgid puddle
avoid turgidity at all costs, especially puddles.
Sprays of celebratory tinsel
or globs of gore are always effective.
Reaching for the stars with a palsied hand
will jerk tears out of a slab of concrete
eventually.

Swiftly leave the space you are now occupying,
other's will be impatiently waiting to craft their next masterpiece.

Overmantle

Bacchus confronts us in a shady place, A tangled grove, and he, astride a cask. Gross limbs and belly, small besotted face, And lips pursed to the uptilted flask. A buxom dryad, white against his tan, Attends him (sturdy spirit o' the trees) ; As free a woman she as he a man, But gracious-limbed enough to please. Sportive, she smoothes his unambrosial hair, And binds a ruddy vine about his brows; A filet fit for marry-makers, where the wild and tendrilled berry grows. But stay, dryad, what need hath Bacchus' head of leafy trimmings ? Twist a leaf or two and wreathe his hardy nudity instead~ Garland him largely, Dryad, do !

In The Moment

There is nothing to distinguish
this day from any other

down on the beach 
children splash into the shallows

dogs sprinting after soggy balls
flung from loose limbed strollers

while swallows carve the air
with cursive dashes

how easy to forget
this scene will keep repeating

in all the seaside towns
long after you’ve departed

your breath and essence
mingling with the salt and spray

for today observe your pleasure
then exhale in silent thanks.

What do you reckon Venus of Milos was doing when she was fully limbed?

  What do you reckon Venus of Milos was doing when she was fully limbed?  

Was she thinking 
Deep thoughts
Holding the apple
Measuring the gravity 
Of her life? 


Was she, like Aphrodite,
Poised with a shield 
About to march off 
Into a battle
Confidence writ on her face? 

Was she a Muse 
Putting on her work clothes
Getting ready to go 
Inspire some artist
To create works of beauty? 

Was she Sappho
The Poetess
reaching out for her pen 
to finally complete 
one of her poems?

Was she spinning a wheel 
To make a tapestry of Dreams
Or to weave time
Winding and unwinding
Moments lost and found? 

Was she playing a Lyre
Singing timeless songs 
Of loss and triumphs
Great loves and heartbreaks
And exciting adventures?

Or, dear reader, 
Was she just a woman 
Like you and me
Trying to go about her life
The best she can?

Warm Days of Spring

Warm
are days
every Spring
as flowers bloom
and honeybees buzz
in search of sweet nectar.
The season of birth and growth
Songbirds sing while feathering nests
and leaves reappear on bare-limbed trees.
It's the time when nature paints the world green

Mother Nature's Gowns

Nature changes her gown
to gossamer chiffon 
pastels to welcome spring.
Daisy wreath in her hair
when finch and robins sing.

Nature changes her gown.
A bright yellow sundress.
Fabric print with flowers,
blooming when well nourished
by afternoon showers.

Nature changes her gown
to dark shades of mourning
for all the falling leaves,
windswept from bare limbed trees.
For their loss, Nature grieves.

Nature changes her gown
as she dances o'er earth
in frock of winter white.
Snowflake crystal bodice
sparkling jewels each night.

Trapped Inside a Poet

Off-beat pulse, echoed heart to part,
Separate slime of sweating art.

Body but a corpus, corporal careless muck,
Limbed flubber army legs lashing ‘gainst the yuck.

Mind but memory in meld with melted vision pours,
Trickles of tickled tactile tethers; ancient sores.

A Gelphling gathers Skexy exorcism,
Against a wizard’s litany of prism. 

“Some directions,” says I to me,
“Not much to work with, to be.”

An auger delves in mystic vision,
Against the self or whole of catechism.

Trapped inside a poem’s angle,
Body brakes in bend to show it,
Web of woven thoughtless tangle,
Haunted minds in a wanton poet.

Pinocchio the Untold Story

He carried the old man into the woods
to watch the body slowly decay.
The sun, wind and rain
prepared Geppetto's corpse
until it was fit to be new growth
for the soil

Pinocchio watched patiently,
the trees did not mourn, and the puppet could not.
He had seen children cry and wondered why?

A time came when he simply had to be still;
to feel what the trees felt.
Eventually he himself turned tree-ish.

Decades pasts,
a woodsman chopped him down,
for he was much taken by its human form –
a quirk of growth no doubt.

He thought to himself:
I could make a doll for my daughter
out of this four limbed
stump of a thing.

Huge Oak Tree

*Image of Huge Oak Tree by Pixabay.

Huge Oak Tree

Doth sun thus shine its countenance,
Gift tree whose loft spreads its expanse,

Its girth above neath midst remained,
Flicks of light burst like windows stained,

The trunk weighs down the cradled youth,
Internal weave exploits the root,

Limbed-tree who hath purged forth hugged vein,
Thereon, ventures long with its frame,

Styled tree stabled in wonderment,
Our learned life begs our testament,

The tree tilled naught nor didst we toil,
Providence hath sprung from the soil.

2022 March 01

Prediction

Prediction

                A perfect weather system heading our way  
                Heavy rain for twenty-hours will stay
                Ice and sleet will pass us by and hit the north
                Snowfall for some but we don't have a choice

Sounds
              Before the storm a silence and stillness, then
              Sighing of the pines will slowly begin
               Doves in their choir will fill the cold air
              Crows busy cawing out their warnings fair

Sights
              Gray sky seems to touch winter laden earth
              Bare limbed trees shiver, squirrels eat dearth  
              Swaying of the pines in cold, damp air
              Slight easterly breeze brings a different flare

Storm
             Storm arrives hours later with a bang
             Strong pouring rain, lightning and thunder harangue
             Sleepy Chihuahua awakes with fright
             Sleep eludes us most of the night

Rejection Letter

Prestigious Emile Pinet

Sponsor, I'm writing to let you know 
I will not be entering your Contest
- Why do you feel you should judge my work?
I possess the pretty form of cotton fluff clouds
whispy pink serenity of sunset splendour

My fingers hold unending pencil of enduring strength 
On my feet, shoes of pure gold
Everywhere I go, people bow to honour my keen skill
Word sequencing pumps in my blood
Gifted quill spills ink invincible! 

If you don't know, the sheer bulk of poems
exist inferior to my superb unique style
Without doubt, my writing is too good 
to be seen in your mediocre list!

Just for reinforcement,  -  here is my one hundred 
percent pledge to refuse your offer
I will not submit work for your pitiful Contest

Now Sponsor, I must go, confining your scope
to those dull dim entries coming soon

My jittered limbed urge implores my continued
drinking of copious cups of coffee to fuel
my incredible hot ripe mind in streets of genius


        Kind Wishes, politely declining




       Contest: A Lipogram
       Sponsor : Emile Pinet
       29th August 2020

A Season of Beauty

Several leaves cling to naked limbed trees
Oak, birch and maple are the vibrant ones
Leaves light like feathers fall into the breeze
Pines and laurels stay greener like their sons

There comes chilly air that brings a sweater
Beckoning the heart to lean on the hearth
Whispering joys of fall to the letter
Reminding us all of what it is worth

Autumn colors and hues are just a part
Of all the joy and peace that comes with fall
It gives true hope, faith and love to the heart
Making every worry and fret seem small

God graced us with this season of beauty
To find the dreams with it is our duty


October 19, 2019
New Fall Sonnets Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Emile Pinet

Champagne Flowing

Smooth-limbed creatures list wayward in passion's grip
   Romantic interludes, the menu fare of their cruise ship
The Captain, tuxedo-attired, dazzles the admiring throng
   Green-eyed maidens swoon his way the evening long

Stars wink to one another on high, knowing nods
   Raising waves higher, the pale moon their demi-god
~ Champagne flowing throughout Night's grand facade

Nature Heals

How blue the sparkling water brightly shone!
Stream depths of clarity held my stunned eyes.
I felt my smile grow full and skimmed some stones
while sun rays lent light ribbons to my tries.

The shoreline mixed rocks, clover, sticks and dirt
before it faded to soft, velvet grass
and endless trees grown full limbed, tall and pert.
While reaping all, I saw a jumping bass.

I loved how energy there loved me back.
Just nature gives such boundless lifts to me.
Her highs keep my esteem on healthy track
to heal since heartbreak thoroughly took me.

In earth's scenes nature aids all pain did hone.
How blue the sparkling water brightly shone!

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