Long Artisans Poems
Long Artisans Poems. Below are the most popular long Artisans by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Artisans poems by poem length and keyword.
*Image of Blues by Google.com.
Blue In Centerstage
Fondly, instants our measure of blue ... a boost or flat bring on,
Promptly, sea and sky are limelight ... point of view as quite concise,
Nonchalantly, unconcern and clamminess ... ranks are withdrawn,
*Fait accompli, preceding segments ... sway tactfully suffice.
Begets the 'ins' ... inspiration, intuition, intellect,
Pirouettes credence, responsibility ... and confidence,
Plaquettes of ... honorable awards, stellar ribbons select,
Assets of the unique bluish shades ... influence prominence.
Truly in hints of unswerving order ... peace, calm, and patience,
Cerulean surge deep relations ... o'er those superfluous,
Julian age casts peasant clothes ... purple made nobles complacence,
Herculean genders preferred hue ... business partners a plus.
Introspective chroma ... symbolize wisdom and conviction,
Defective draw sadness ... abysses of the human psyche,
Infective features ... induce fears, threats, and constant affliction,
Effective tint ... guides profound acumens by the almighty.
Cobalt animate ... ingenuity and enlightenment,
Pole vault reputations ... paint artisans treasured qualities,
Assault on nervous manner ... random acts disentitlement,
Exalt betterment ... magnify productive monopolies.
Cyan et al., ... are appetite and sleeplessness suppressants,
Point man merges the bluewashed value ... constant and unchanging,
Yes-man splashes ... versatile befits locations quintessence,
Wiseman choose ... blue on blue light-heartedness ever exchanging.
*Fait accompli: a thing accomplished
2021 November 04
*2nd Place*
BLUE
~~Mystic Rose Rose: Judged 2021 November 06
They walk in spotless, pointed shoes, through burned fields
hands in front, folded in prayer.
Their talk drips honey, over the graves they dug themselves.
calling it mercy.
They are artisans of fog,
blurring horizons with smoke and mirrors.
Every wound they make is a misunderstanding,
blamed on the victims of their attacks.
They weave fig-leaf halos out of denials,
as snakes unwind and recoil in the grass.
Their smiles are taut, righteous, and rehearsed
eyes gleaming with the confidence of a practiced con.
They speak of love, but leave heart-shaped tattoos,
as mementos and curios in their wake.
To face them is to stand before a mirror,
that swears blind your reflection never existed.
They fear no reckoning.
For the wrongs are always someone else’s.
Their smugness is deaf, dumb, and blind,
born of sacred, frozen certainty,
worn like virtue naked on face and sleeve.
They polish ashes and call them grace,
reclaiming the fire for yet another fight.
They dress the wound, deny the blame,
their forgiveness ever lame—
in virtuous disdain.
Journey starts
Kunming portraits;
Highway song
Here old and new
Merge yet apart;
Vignettes juxtapose
China welcomes
Both ancient and modern;
Sign of the times
Tour group confronts
Unfamiliar grounds;
Rough edges grind
Quaint ways of old
Ancient tales displaced;
Modern day norms intervene
Spectacular vistas
Natural wonders;
Man seems insignificant
Flood tide drowns
Flushing away;
False assumptions destroyed
Gust of wind
Reveals new passages;
Knowing does not know
Mountain peaks
Valleys well-clustered;
Fertile grounds well-used
Everywhere we go
People of all tribes;
A Chinese pageant
Human nature speaks
Polite tones sway;
Touch of humble quiet
These Chinese people:
Kind, warm, hospitable --
A touch of home
Himalayan backdrop
Mountains for company;
Melodrama purged
Methinks that I
Could hideaway here;
Unknown, undisturbed
One sure currency:
The Chinese language;
Pervasive, ubiquitous
Vast is the land
Far as our eye span;
Beyond imagery
Trades of all sorts
Risk is a sure thing;
Living is risky business
Ancient towns
Showpieces that speak;
In steady silence
Rivers and streams
Winding into quaint towns;
Ancient as old time
Pulse of the moment
Camera shutter snapshots;
Still life captured
Picture posture
By this arched bridge;
Keepsake souvenir
Sensory pursuits
Old Town bazaars;
Hasty trinkets acquired
Silver artisans
Hammer away;
Creations of white metal
Bric-bracs scattered
Awaiting curious eyes;
That impulse buy in tow
Round this village
Tourist show piece;
Modern commerce prevails
Bargains await
Hungry customers;
Weathered Oriental wares
In this roundabout square
Locals and tourists stride;
Seek new-found distractions
Spring time weather
Hot and dry and windy;
Like home without humidity
Our tour guide --
Cautions that silver jewellery
Best bought from reputable shops
Cheap price often
Compromises quality;
Authentic stuff cost much more
Lessons unlearnt
On-the-road trade routes;
Return odd regrets
A silver bangle
Heavy with 99 percent;
Quality speaks tons
Scattered eateries
Street vendors offer;
Glimpses that never die
So much to see,
Words fail description;
Feelings explore facts
Only ten days here
We see yet do not see;
Only vague interpretations
All too soon
Sojourn over;
Yunnan in mind mists
Leon Enriquez
31 May 2014
Singapore
Went to the ROM last weekend
The Royal Ontario Museum
An absolute and total eye opener for sure
We, with our sophisticated smugness
With our feeling of superiority
Emboldened by today's amazing technological advances
Need to stop and take a look back
At the achievements of these artisans
From centuries gone by
Of generations with totally amazing skills
Without the aid of today's modern technology
To help them in their endeavours
Just their hands and their inventive minds
The results of which were astounding
I stood there in awe
It was a total mind blowing experience
Everyone needs to take a break and look back
It makes us realize what great things
The human mind has always been capable of
It was a jaw-dropping experience!
The absence of hope nests upon my shoulders like epaulettes of desolation,
with its poisonous warmth that has burned my skin to the bone, leaving purple scars,
crimson cuts from endless waiting in the antechamber of miracles that never come,
and yet it's strange how hope extends its hands with free bandages, like a merciful lady.
Despair no longer frightens me as it once did when I was a child hiding under blankets,
it has become the new currency of my creativity, with which I pay for poems and dreams,
transforming ruins into metaphors that shine like the jewels of fallen kings,
molding wounds into colored crayons with which to paint strength on the walls of my soul.
Neither despair nor hope feel like they belong to me in this life anymore,
as if I had inherited someone else's emotions, like clothes worn by strangers,
so now I sit in the laboratory of my heart and repair sadness into fine humor,
transforming pain into jokes that make the world laugh instead of cry.
I am an alchemist of feelings, a craftsman who pours the lead of suffering into gold,
who learns to make from each blow of fate a line of verse that heals,
from each disappointment a story that makes others feel less alone,
from each sleepless night a melody that soothes those who cannot sleep.
In the workshop of my silence, where only my shadow and I work like two artisans,
I take the broken pieces of hope and glue them with laughter until they become mosaics,
I take the threads of despair and weave them into stories that warm frozen hearts,
because I have learned that the greatest art is to make beautiful what hurts.
Perhaps I no longer know which emotions are mine and which belong to the world around me,
perhaps I have become a mirror that reflects others' pain and transforms it into light,
perhaps my mission on this earth is to be the translator of suffering into joy,
to be the bridge between tears and laughter, between despair and hope reborn from its own ashes.
And so I sit, with the epaulettes of hope's absence gleaming on my battle-weary shoulders,
with hands full of bandages that I offer to those who need to heal their wounds,
transforming each day into an alchemy laboratory where the miracle is not hope,
but the ability to make light from darkness and from silence a symphony of understanding.
Went to the ROM last weekend
The Royal Ontario Museum
An absolute and total eye opener for sure
We, with our sophisticated smugness
With our feeling of superiority
Emboldened by today's amazing technological
Need to stop and take a look back
At the achievements of these artisans
From centuries gone by
Of generations with totally amazing skills
Without the aid of of today's modern technology
To help them in their endeavours
Just their hands and their inventive minds
The results of which were astounding
I stood there in awe
It was a totally mind blowing experience
Everyone needs to take a break and look back
It makes us realize what great achievements
The human mind has always been capable of
It was a jaw dropping experience!
The nobility, the priesthood,
The common, the slaves
A life's journey fixed,
Elected for life or
Passed from father to son.
Omens, divinations,
Predictions, reading future
They were skilled mathematicians,
Historians, keepers of knowledge
Recorded details in codices.
Books of fig bark paper
Mayans wrote, kept count
Of Sun's path, tracked Venus
With surprising Accuracy,
Marked zenith twined with beliefs
Hard workers ate well,
Worshiped their many gods
In willing exuberance
Artisans, carvers,
Traded true, cities grew
Peaceful obsidian warriors
Extravagant kings and queens
Fell to their own intelligence
Wrath of gods unfurled red-carpet
For death and destruction
Nothing to eat, nothing to carve,
Nothing to record, nothing to trade,
Nothing to fight, none left to please god
Nothing to sacrifice, simply collapsed.
They weren't spared, would we be?
The world of Expectations
Expectations, do – in all likelihood – become frustrations.
They, in their painful anger, do become manipulations,
of both – both the aching heart and the fragile soul
and of the one’s you seem to want to know
and would prefer to show.
So, what one must do , is set them free, let them go
so that the seeds, one needs, in order to sow,
might have a chance – into something – grow.
Expectations, therefore laden the load, hamper creation,
making for uncertainties and difficulties in any situation.
WORDS
Words fly upon gossamer wings of invisible angles,
from sources of universal / internal, unseen energy,
to and through the fragile tips of my crystalline,
clear fingers, like specks of light, fireflies
out of the darkness of my mind, to light up,
- in shades of gray or rainbow colours, bright -
the empty spaces that wait to be filled.
Those pieces, - eight and a half by eleven – of paper,
pages I write, - for the sight of others – of shadows
that are cast upon the retinas of the minds that look,
upon, read, see, understand the essence of this old man.
Dawning of this day has come to us in untarnished,
Salvador Dalí, blues, chaperoned by a blinding glow
– that bright, life sustaining, golden orb radiating down –
giving light to this early mornings life, life in this tiny,
portion of this great blue planet – my multi coloured tomb,
my four cornered room, where loony size orbs , of violet,
indigo, blue, green, yellow, orange and red orbit, slither,
– in their cloak of rainbow colours – these coloured comets,
their tails streaking across, upon, all-around an ocean
of material objects, objects of historical value,
objects – a visual representations of , pages of my history
basking in the light of beautifully coloured flakes of rainbows,
drifting, rainbow specks, coloured splotches splashed across
the eggshell white bars of this prison I sometimes inhabit,
this tiny little universe washed in history and colours.
This beautifully coloured day was brought to me by crystals,
chipped at – pieces cut away by the hands of artisans –
by the hand of man to allow light – white and clear –
to be refracted, reflecting, releasing to sight, that which
the human eye is unable to comprehend, to see.
Rainbows filled my day – too bad they could not stay.
Then again, that would be asking to much, isn’t that the way ?
B. J. “A ” 2
October 27th 2002
Excavations expose stunning skulls of history,
Where-around emblazoned scripts cultures and creatures;
Minds of human beings and their mass mystery,
The whole lot that surrounds them with all true features...
Be it Rosetta stone or Ashurbanipal's,
Troy or king Tut's tomb; Machu Picchu or Pompeii;
Be Akrotiri Tehra or the Dead Sea Scrolls,
Olduvai Gorge, or structures stunningly cozy...
I have been wondering at unearthing premiere,
Of the terracotta army of China's first king,
Unearthed by the farmers on a mystical sphere,
Where they witnessed the painstakingly created wing...
The clay warriors with chariots and horses,
Acrobats, musicians, artisans, and craftsmen;
Buried as the emperor's crisis armed forces,
Defend him in his afterlife from every pain...
Are these artifacts blended with enormous love,
Of the citizens to their beloved king great?
Or a branch of paraphernalia does state shove,
To preserve the power of the king and elate…?
Excavations, within, are essential as well,
To ascertain every strength and frailty hidden;
To learn lessons from failures and past flaws to quell,
Every darkness dwelling in the realm, forbidden...
Let's dig! Deep! Not content with the periphery!
Expose the minds! Hearts! Bring out the innermost soul!
Hair split the history's marvelous mystery!
Test the artistry, sandstone, proficiency whole!
Think of the human hands that create every art,
Cumulating courage; working relentlessly;
Hungry, thirsty, empty-handed, love-filled at heart;
Partaking in the endless plan of God restlessly...
12 July 2021
This or That, Vol 4 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Edward Ibeh
Perhaps, it would be Rockwell’s second choice
for my happy home has many different voices.
All around a small man-made lake they walk
proud American’s, multi lingual, they talk…
A maple forest with sweet pine blessing
Whites and Asians, Indians, caressing.
Lovers from all of the many nations
in my park find, content, contemplation.
Children of all colors play like sweet bits
and each and every Grannie watching, sits.
The American dream a joyous reality
a warm, loving place has risen here, free.
So, let new artists and artisans arise to portray
the bountiful beauty of each towns diversity!