Long Apertures Poems
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The Magical Epiphany of an Old Rusted Can
whilst out hiking one day in a countryside area
that was quite desolate and remote from any nearby
city, I discovered, amazingly, an Old Rusted Can
that was at least two-liter-sized and was partially-buried
in a long dried-out river bed in the middle of nowhere
this Old Rusted Can protruded out upright at about a
twenty-degree right-slant with some jagged-edges all
along its circular lip
its striking physical presence and the way in which it
was positioned, still partially-filled with dried river
sediment, for me, bespoke some sort of an old artifact
of sorts, yet it was the only object like it right in the
middle of this long dried-out river bed
its unique silhouette was, at once, quite discernable at
a distance on the horizon as it casted a very curious and
most soulful shadow under the limitless canopy of the
late-morning sunlight
although it was very rusted, this Old Can actually
reflected radiant light rays at various times when it
was touched by the rays of the bright sunlight as it
ascended to its customary cosmic dominance in the
late-morning sky
it also had five certain hole punctures located front
and back, in its upper-area, from whence the bright
sunlight reckoned a kaleidoscopic effect of sorts as
the sunlight touched and passed through each of these
unique apertures that were arrayed on this Old Rusted
Can
inelegant as this Old Rusted Can was—this unexpected
and most unusual light-show lasted for several minutes
until the darkened clouds overhead blocked out all of
the bright sunlight for the rest of the morning
yet, I just couldn’t help but feel the true divine presence
of Almighty God Himself—as I had fervently focused on
every aspect and precise detail of this radiant and very
unusual light-show which presented a magical sense and
aura of empyrean enchantment
and whilst I continued my deep gaze at this Old Rusted
Can, I was simultaneously and singularly transfixed by
the utter majesty and true joy of the holy epiphany it had
presented to me. I thought for a moment . . . God does
indeed, relate to us, at times, in very mysterious ways!
Amen! Amen!
Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved
August 21, 2018 (Imagism)
Putrid pus proliferates/purposely preventing
progression's passionate plea -
stifled cries...
Always ascending...and, assiduously avoiding
any acrimonious amounts accrued along apathetic
apertures..."Still I Rise!"
Incessantly fighting the urge to just drop
out of this rancid Rat Race we call living
Still, to abandon sanguine thoughts totally topples the
tenacious toughness that took time to temper...never stop giving
Enervated entities economically embattled
Man, each day we face trouble/In every Third World A Struggle -
singed and burned I'm like stubble/but, like The Ashes Of The Phoenix
to Resurrect from this rubble
Sometimes I shift towards arrogance; The Good Lord Keeps
me humble
Lifting languid limbs loftily to overcome this present Flood
Be Positive is my motto, the flip side?
It's my Blood...
B+
Love is non-mechanical
it doesn’t crank, pinion
or always work dependably.
In cavalier moments, I thought I knew
something of how it all works—
it’s apertures and shafts—
its grinds and reciprocations.
I’d judge it’s motions
work its levers, judge its spins,
and address its slippery angles.
You could call me obsessive
but obsessive people don’t
obsess this much.
You could call me compulsive
but the compulsive aren't
this compulsive.
All I can do is poise, balance
or swipe a little black credit card.
It’s the only magic I have.
I can’t turn bread into wine
or fish into water.
I can’t make the blind walk
the deaf to see or the lame to
taste again.
God reserves some miracles,
keeps them as close to the vest
as cards.
Jugglers work the circus,
mimes thrash to communicate,
and tightrope walkers fall.
.
.
Songs for this:
Viva la vida by Cold Play
When There Is Love by Karen Sokolof Javitch
The Rainbow Connection by Sarah McLachlan
.
.
How about a Christmas playlist! Because Christmas is in 10 days!
www.daweb.us/xmas/Christmas_29.mp3
There is something essentially as beautiful
As the majestic beauty of lustrous rays
Of sunshine peeking through the split
Of a curtain drawn shut
Oh, how it dazzles with its glorious splendor!
Seeping through
A keyhole and under the door
In the infancy of morning, gracing
A dark room with a golden bright light
A magnificent radiance!
May it linger on! May it linger on!
Could it be a shining light of hope
For those lost in pitch darkness?
Will it bring smiles to sullen faces?
Or give sight to the blind?
How mischievous , often flirting
And playing peekaboo behind
Tree branches and a cluster of clouds
Invading apertures with its light
Oh, how it dazzles with its glorious splendor!
STANDARD CONTEST NO 150,ANY FORM OR NONE,ANY THEME,UPTO A MAX OF 20 lines
Sponsored by Brian Strand (Winner: 1st Place)
Date written and posted: 04/30/2016
A random road wanders across the desert
as voluminous clouds chase the rising sun
nary a sound can be heard, save for the
whipping wind and clicks of insects.
The yawning horizon stretches out
reaching towards a vast, expansive sea
its crystalline beauty is but a deceptive liar
for death surrounds her ever lapping shores.
Almost uninhabitable she is
like a barren womb in want
her waters are lifeless, a fluid grave
bearing witness of her desolate decay.
Fish carcasses tell their solemn tales
along her distant, lonely shores
their bony apertures are splayed and pecked
hungry seagulls circle, hunting for scraps.
Relentless winds are spreading littered
whitewashed bones
causing them to tumble about
conjuring up a false sense of life.
Now the moon is rising
as acrid air hovers over the sullen sea
the winds seem to shout, “go away”
a dull emptiness prevails.
The blackest night, save for the moon
descends upon this accursed place
where the bony beach rattles its lifeless tunes
along a haunting shoreline
that no one wants to see
where no one wants to be
beside the Salton Sea.
The craft came in a blaze of light,
people all knelt in awe,
slaves and Pharaoh gazed at the sight
no-one had seen before.
Two beings appeared, surveyed the scene
and down the ramp they trod,
not knowing that before them, all
would worship them as Gods.
The great Pyramid now stood complete,
and the next one would begin,
again, walls that had no apertures
so no light would shine in.
They watched the children run outside
playing, despite the weather,
and, later families all sat to eat
at table, all together.
“ This was how” Anubis said,
“our own lives used to be,
before our species had advanced
with new technology,
the simple pleasures all replaced
by screens and wires and games,
with everyone in their own world
now nothing is the same”
Ra said, “ fair point, it's time to leave”,
engines fired, they were gone,
took with them what Pyramids needed-
Windows, version one.
For contest 'Ancient Aliens', sponsor Anthony Slausen
January 9th 2018
Was professor of astronomy, ah those heady days
Studied fields in cosmology, including solar rays
Observed galaxies all my life, seeking exotic events
Ironically happens now, as my death’s dispensed
By dour hospice window, seeds a suffusion of light
Not dazzling, quite fuzzy, discernibly white
Shallow luminosity, enters my departing room
‘Twas pitch black this night, no forecast moon’
Growing in intensity, colours turn purple green
Must be an invasion, of extraterrestrial aliens
Hope they finish me fast, this final stage is slow
Then the fireworks start, whole world’s set aglow
Heaven’s have ruptured, no raindrops seen
Cataclysmic silent eruption, yet everywhere serene
It’s not possible, unconscionable, too far south
Only a gamma ray burst, could bring this about
A possible hypernova, just light years away
Hits Earth’s magnetic field, in a mega-aurora display
Iridescent photons, avalanche over me
My teardrops fluoresce, through the apertures of agony
Hypnotic warmth, released from cold light
My woes are assuaged, God this feels so nice
Semiconscious state, accruing spiritual bliss
“So this is how life ends, amid ethereal fine mist.”
Nurses are praying, down on their knees
Speaking foreign languages, at wonderment they see
Some fear the apocalypse, whilst others run about
I hum Cohen’s Hallelujah, but these words spill out
#O come purge my mind, cover woes
Give back the life, that I forgo
Help me bear this weight, won’t ya
Blind darkness, annihilate fate
Finish suffering, show your face
Unleash the love, they call Gods grace!
#Hallelujah#Hallelujah#Hallelujah#Hallelujah#
Pyrotechnics are over, now quiescently asleep
Drowning no longer, in pillow soaked weep
Greeting my parents, bereaving my family
As I enter a tunnel, leaving the apertures of agony.
Originally written 02/18/21
2022 Poetry Marathon Mile 19 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Mark Toney
11/06/22
Who can know the mysterious
ways of the clouds?
They travel in white whipped masses
and gather like solemn pinnacles
looking upwards in reverent penitence.
Silent clouds slowly form and move about
like floating fields in a heavenly marsh
or like soft suspended pillows
making themselves vulnerable
to the temperamental ways of the wind.
Sometimes they seem almost helpless
as they wander in a ghost like state
like wastrels, weighed down
by the prospect of an impending storm.
The yawning blue sky
has become quickly overwhelmed
by clouds’ alluring apertures.
Now they collectively amass
in billowing silence
crowding the vast
sweeping hemisphere.
Slanting sunlight breaks forth
to spar with clouds’ menacing shadows
that threaten to overtake the light
like competing shadow puppets
during a midday matinee.
Clouds are endlessly breathtaking
and appear seemingly mute
except for faint whispers from the winds
as if time stopped to hold its breath
within the boundaries of earth and sky.
4/18/2023
Written: January 30, 2024
_______________________________________
Amidst the darkness,
a tunic of silence looms high
mentioned in a muttered manner
spying via disguised apertures
rooting remorse-ridden radiance
Upon a glimmering
A blue-toned backdrop
under a celestial canopy
with mesmerizing shimmer
A stillness wraps the earth
entangled in unfathomable peace.
An opus devoted to stillness
saturates this space
winter wonderland
breathing beauty blue
anodyne snowy utopia.
Winter dreary nights
prolonged and chilly,
glows with a suave weave
mesmerizing gray foliage
The exquisite grace
unparalleled in magnitude,
with bright sunrays bouncing off,
a pure, lovely layer of snow
Embrace a serene moment
where harmony rules supreme,
an enormous sensation of delight
as the euphoria wears off
The light was shimmering
In an icy realm devoid of any conflict,
But the bitter northern winter
Winds are as sharp as knives.
Suddenly, that time ended
As it slowly slips away,
A gift of blissfulness
remains in an unspoken way
akin to an infant sleeping
with calmness all around,
A place where time stood still
and tranquility was found
Sunlight and shadows
disappear, for it is meant to be,
In the seasons, finding hope
and the spirit soars free.
We're both ugly and gorgeous
We can love, but we may also hate
We breached the rules while playing
I wonder what our fate will be
Multifaceted, we love and detest
elegance and vulgarity
Healing our emotions requires action
and understand our ability to shift,
Support me in spreading love and peace
Inspire beauty in whatever we do,
We can accomplish this together
But the future is unknowable,
A single idea could alter the world,
I hope it's an idea that you have
A remedy for shattered emotions,
Another view I've been having
I believe there is promise,
Most people grasp the basics
Even my silly pride may leave a mark
I might be known for it in the future
Reminding others of the concept
I could also join them
Who is initiating this act?
Be involved in the entity
Simply by accepting love
When we realize we need peace,
That alone may be sufficient
We recall several eponyms,
One thing must be remembered,
This beauty is our goal.
Over ugly, we must convey beauty.
how …
how many odes have been composed
for the sake of the human eye?
since humans first etched papyrus
or chiseled stone
or painted cavern facades by firelight
the magnificence of the visual organ
has been given its due reward
for what is more compelling -
more breathtaking
more expressive and emotional
more deep or beguiling
or more enigmatic
than what we breach to the morn each day?
windows, they ARE
and not always brightly lit
yet …
there is a mystery, still -
for me, there is a question of the ages
that affects me from the wells of
your darkly pellucid peepers
something I have never beheld
or imagined
or even dreamed ‘til now …
slivered and seeded like some grand
almond ocean, ne’er crossed
your epicanthic folds speak to me
of a pupiled perplexity that
plunges far beyond the range of the
normal ocular abyss …
they stir in me a thirst for answers
and a hunger for the luscious fruits
that give them voice -
bows of exquisite shape and tender texture
that top off your provocative package
quite perfectly
your blinks -
those coy closings, purposely slowed -
are your way of reminding me of
the bounty that awaits below
divinely deferring to what
you feel needs more immediate attention
but oh -
when our mouths DO meet
do not hide your eyes from me
for that myopic mystery
begs more accurate investigation -
I want to see that you can see what
I can see within your gaze …
I want all your apertures open
and all your fantasies …
afire.
Copyright © Gregory Richard Barden, February 12, 2024