Limned Poems | Examples

Mayday Comes From French

M'aider … Mayday, comes from French,
that word, with fright, I radio,
my engine dead, this nighttime glide,
vast sky and ocean black as ink,
waves rising, lapping, leaping up
until the splash, wings ditching in,
a frantic swim, inflating raft,
my sea-soaked struggle to climb in
then drift and bob through endless dark,
despair and chill a numbing pair
while drooping, dozing, nodding off …
then through his succor of weak sleep,
the sea's east edge grew limned with white
and stars lost vigor in dull sky,
its gray, faint light caressing him;
he gasped and jolted, jumped awake,
aware hope rises with pale glow,
that pastel-pink renews all life
and rescue, soon, will be at hand!

Scars

Scars

Cartography of pain
An indelible portrait 
Limned by the woes of yesterday
That made our hearts bleed
& feckly dead-end the flames of hope in us.

But they’re beautiful 
Because they remind us of the heroes we are.

Bound In Verse

Some did escape the poems
to hold the book in hand
on soft, quiet, sunlit afternoons;
turn over crisp new pages
dip into the writer's mind.

They were the lucky ones.
Others, bound in verse
were oft limned dark, and cold,
as was the author's want.

Reflections of his damaged soul.

Brown Spotted Cancers

Cancerous capitalism
predative patriarchalism,
insists on runaway win/lose competitions
against EarthMother's resilient health
and matriarchally resonant wealth

To fearlessly look
into mirrored medicine cabinets
noticing untherapeutic time's inevitable one way
passive to active direction,

******** of lines written
and rewritten
into this moment
of waving wonder
how resiliently limned health
reflects awesome nutritional resonance
of discontinuous assymetricl deviance
cognitive dissonance
waving
weaving toward affective rooted absence
of anticipated confluence,

Like bumps
lumps
wrinkles
mountains and valleys
of emergent theologically grand minds
in aging
ancient ecologically small organic bodies

Imagining climate pathological end
of healthy living green/blue Earth
predicted in commencement of cancerous capitalism
written in lines of greedy eyes
and needy ears
for egocentric masculine opportunity,
predative perpetuity.

Chloe

There were skies onyx at night... moons by day...
lakes pale as her eyes... breathless winds
undressing tall elms; ... she would say
that we loved, but some book said we'd sinned.
 
Soon impatiens too fiery to stay
sagged; the crocus bells drooped, golden-limned; 
things of brightness, rinsed out, ran to gray...
all the light of that world softly dimmed.
 
Where our feet were inclined, we would stray; 
there were paths where dead weeds stood untrimmed, 
distant mountains that loomed in our way, 
thunder booming down valleys dark-hymned.
 
What I found, I found lost in her face
by yielding all my virtue to her grace.

Originally published by Romantics Quarterly as "A Dying Fall"

Until There Are None

Until  There Are None

In Vegas there used to be…
Seagulls on light poles
Lizards on walls
Roadrunners in backyards
And now there’s none at all

Wild horses and wild mules
Are vanishing fast
Conservation and good intentions
Make sure they won’t last

Used to be tumbleweed 
Blowing into town
Now too many houses
No tumbleweeds to be found

Smog has dimmed
Our once bright sunny days
Now our skies are limned
In L.A Haze

It’s the nature of things
To ne’er remain the same
But that good things should vanish
Is a crying shame

Nothing’s meant to last forever
Not even our torrid Vegas sun
My heart will repeat only 
so many more Beats 
…And then there will be none…


121 words

Moonlight Madness

In the jaundiced light of the pock-marked moon,
Nevada nights many strange visions have seen
But few match spring time rapidly rutting rabbits 

Racing and romping in moonlight madness;
Frolicking free in a sagebrush sea
Amidst white-crested mountain waves;

While whirlwinds swirl and in playas play
One hundred and forty fathoms deeper
Than luna-limned beach strands of dry lake shores.

Bobcats lurk in the moonbeam shadowed deeps,
Eager to feast on the bounding banquet
Of loco late-night leaping lepuses.

Madling moonshine swilling drivers pop a
Fair share of raw rabbits upon their grills
As coyotes yowl over missed moonglow kills.

Sonnet 25 'My Love Is Like the Sky, a Wind of Dreams'

My Love is like the Sky, a wind of dreams,
Like trailing Heav’n her garment covers me,
Stars line her cloak, her sword’s not what it seems,
It’s limned with lightning, she pulls it from a tree!
Her glowing hands and face show golden moons
Penumbra them about in pregnant mist,
They streak across the Night, bestowing boons,
Her lips, always, and never, to be kissed.
Beneath her softshod feet, angels press up,
And keep her from the burden of the earth,
From Paraclete Dove, comes the proffered cup,
Engilded, and enjeweled with gems of mirth
As bright as sun that shines on fields of snow,
From thence, drinks, smiles, and makes the darkness go.

Primal

Why do bonfires make us gaze
With glassy stare
Into the blaze

Why do we peer into the pyre
As if writhing air
Had words limned in fire

Words enchanted…writ in haze
Scribed by fiery fingers 
In portentous primal ways

Flames dancing to a cosmic song
That tugs one’s heart
And soul along

Until the pop… and snap of ember
Brings one back 
And do we remember?

Not one whit…nor tiny bit!
Of where we were
Whilst it held our spellbound 
…Spirit… 

19 lines

Dark Sightings

The forest crowds the small campsite
By dying fire’s meagre light
I listen for the furtive flight
Of Nature’s creatures of the night

As chirping crickets’ songs unite
The fearful in diurnal flight
Race through remains of day’s last light
From Nature’s creatures of the night

Soon eerie fireflies ignite
A spectral vision taking flight
Make clear their presence here in spite
Of Nature’s creatures of the night

And owls hid deep in trees recite
Relentless question to the night
But answerless remain despite
All Nature’s creatures of the night

In dark foreshortened without sight
But limned and measured by the quiet
My patience placidly invites
All Nature’s creatures of the night

As dawn resumes its daily rite
I do not revel in her light
For I have witnessed more than sight
Through Nature’s creatures of the night

Written 5/23/2018

Aftermath

1.
 
Murders in congress
grimly ponder on parapet walls
on the grim reality of lost homes
and loved ones yet unborn - 
their casual caws more muted
than the usual cacophony
of careless camaraderie.

2. 

The still dark night
of scintilla-ed canopy
and eerie filigreed fingers
of flora bereft of foliage once lush
limned against the pallor of
moonlight mocking at men
reduced and humbled now
from their hubris then.

3. 

Candlelight dinners
bereft of the trappings and finesse,
a gourmet's grumps bring together
rediscovered ties
of familial bonds under the thickened web
of electronic sludge and slime
now briefly removed.

4.

The sweet lullaby of a
distant mercenary generator
puts me to sleep
in the comfort of knowing
that i am not alone.
Troglodytes in surreal settings.

Still He Chose

Did you suppose it would be easy
Wearing well these mortal clothes?
Did you not fathom Father's words
When this realm you freely chose?

Now the world wills you to wonder
If the trials were duly disclosed.
No way to know before the flesh
Trials wouldn't be as you supposed.

Much is hidden from our earth eyes
But faith can fill the voids to brim.
No need to struggle in a muddle
Deciphering designs limned by Him.

Reflect rather on our elder Brother
Who didn't doubt, didn't suppose.
He perceived pain inexpressible
And still He chose, still He Chose.

A Winter Ode

Crisp…Crisp the night!
‘Pon cheeks as white as snow
Crazy quilt of rimed patterns
Limned upon the window

Soft…soft the lacy flakes!
Each one unique and new
Blanket o’er land and lakes
Winter’s take on dew

Games…games of Fox and Hound!
Pristine drifts of frosting
Turned into frigid battlegrounds with
Brief truces for time defrosting

Steam…cottony steam!
Wool mittens too near the flame
Cold stiff fingers, white as cream
Toes frozen from the game

Quiet…Winter quiet! (shhhh)
Sounds muffled by the fluff
Of snow so deep not e’en a peep
Can struggle up through the stuff

Smoke…writhing smoke!
Reaching for the sky
Chimneys breathing, tendrils weaving
Rising with a sigh

Winter…cold, cold hard winter!
Makes Summer wishes come to light
Til icicles fall, shatter and splinter
…Tis crisp…crisp the night!!!…

Horse Acrostic

HORSE


Hell-bent stallion muscles led the mustangs through the plain,

On their heels rode hard a hired man –his job to rope the best--

Rearing high the stallion—urging speed as autumn winds dance thru his mane.

Sheets of lighting limned silhouettes as they pounded toward the west--

Enchanted now the man reined in—this day let beauty rule his breast.

Epic Autumn

Golden threads 
of sunlight weaves
A paisley pattern 
through Autumn leaves

Points of light 
splayed upon the ground
Play tag and caper 
without a sound

Capricious days 
Of Autumn play
Upon stage 
of frost and light

In drama writ 
by Nature’s hand
Directed…
With season’s might

Summer’s past, 
now tis Autumn’s time
While Winter waits watching
in the wings

Drama played 
in fen and glade
While Nature’s 
chorus sings

Falling leaves limned
By the golden sun
The curtain closes
The show is done

A spectacle of epic proportions
Starring the spectacular trees
with a supporting cast of millions
…Of artistic, autumn leaves…

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