Long Avant Poems
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BAROQUE PAINTING
Being a devoted dilettante, once I fulfilled my dreams
to visit Art Museum on Baroque painting.
Exuberant mind was mesmerized on marvelous composition.
Emotion got contorted sensing sudden echo of de javu.
Faint feeling to recognize familiar paintings by myself?
Enchanted elan dilated on subsequent dimuendo.
Carte blanche of my perception became ready to quench opthalmic thirst.
At the exit, supersonic cacophony hit me on unexpected ennui
to see broken guitar in frame, as awkward anomaly amidst peerless paintings
Stunned to realize that the exhibit was a bona fide painting on Avant-garde.
Ten words, ten lines 2 Contest by Silent One
01/20/18
Second Place
'YOUR CHOICE (I1) Imagist Style contest by Brian Strand
Bona fide baroque melodies resonated concert halls in Italy
Reigning Western Europe with elan more than a century
Until new composers innovated into avant-garde music
As ennui artists soon after wrote romantic modern beats.
Cacophony of sounds emerged after advent of modernity
As talent won carte-blanche to write popular harmonies.
Feeling of deja vu echoed sounds in modern-day music halls
When baroque compositions reignited latent fond-memories.
Dilettante musicians did not succeed except as an anomaly
For the musical world crowns only the best of its creativity.
January 18, 2018
Ten words, ten lines contest by Silent One
That evening
we took a flat-bottomed boat
and swam it up the Thames.
Douglas the middle-aged *****
served martinis out of a crystal pitcher.
Lurching for lips, he kissed me.
I was surprised how sweet it felt.
Jenny in a canvas chair, pale legs crossed,
water-trailing sensitive fingers.
I prized the seahorse lilt of her ankles,
the tilt of her toes over blue brocaded slippers,
I liked her vexed intensity, ideals she wore
as bruises behind her eyes.
Marguerite was with child,
not mine thank God
though we had ed that summer.
She was learning how to use me
the way a nun uses a rich man.
I was beguiled by the swell of her;
her heavy breasts,
newly enticed
by the crease of her peach.
The ‘new’ girl was tender,
she loved a boy with a thick neck;
a green bruiser
who played a game so muddy
it could only be played on rainy Sundays -
I forget her name.
Back then I was a poet,
singing crinkled words into salty tears.
I could piss away a week’s salary in one night,
songs that years later could only quiver
moth-like at the bottom of a glass.
We swayed upriver,
Freddy — an avant-garde painter at the wheel,
and soon to die with a bullet in his eye.
Poor Captain Freddy,
Belfast painted his uniform.
Night latched the sky.
Bright words ceased to splash.
The moon slipped under us,
ripples chewed silver.
For a long pause, we were everlasting,
free to be carefree,
Marguerite,
Jenny from the knees down,
the soon to be dead,
and me.
The turning wheels of time crush and rattle
life in the arena of strife fighting a constant battle,
I try to win rising from the dismal depth of ennui,
wonder if living is a wandering notion in time’s continuity.
I give my motivated avant-garde mind carte blanche
to make for me a metaphorical mask at least for once.
I wear it to act in the show of my life with elan,
and would secretly smile even after I am done.
I transcend the delusive time playing the part not new,
for I perform from familiarity under the spell of déjà vu.
______________
February 18, 2023
Contest : Deja Vu
Sponsored by : Unseeking Seeker
rainy season
grief, white hydrangeas
hungry caterpillar
In part, The Haiku Society of America’s definition of a haiku reads, “Usually a haiku in English is written in three unrhymed lines of seventeen or fewer syllables.” Further, Japanese scholar Shigehisa Kuriyama states, “The 5-7-5 pattern by itself does not make a haiku.” (Gurga, p. 1). Contemporary English language haiku have departed radically from the 5-7-5 convention, including the Beat haiku of Jack Kerouac, Allen Ginsberg, and Gary Snyder, the latter awarded the Masaoka Shiki International Haiku Grand Prize in 2004. The haiku of Robert Spiess are especially experimental.
I recommend two sources for further study of haiku: “Haiku: A Poet’s Guide,” by Lee Gurga, addresses haiku in it’s traditional form; “Haiku Poetics in Twentieth-Century Avant-Garde Poetry,” by Jeffery Johnson discusses haiku as realized by modernist poets.
Speaking personally, it is most important for me to enjoy writing a haiku, correct form or not, and for my haiku to be enjoyed by the reader.
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
Under any circumstances,
we do the best ... we provide
the possible to the impossible ...
We lend prestige to
who does not have ... we highlight the mistakes
we overestimate eventual hits
Correct systemic failures,
We grant "status" to those who do not have ...
All these things, quite discreetly ...
Non orthodox ways for facilitating, buying, selling,
nothing, nothing, nothing ... all in accordance
with updated interpretations of the acts and
procedures ... modern teachings of
political, commercial avant-garde ...!
PS any similarity is merely coincidence ...
And now, a word from our sponsor:
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And our Bathtub Gin with Razor lets you end it all with ease.
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If you’re into dining solo, try our Arsenic Puree.
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Seeking gastronomic climax to a soul-destroying day?
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.
and no
i shouldn't tell y'all
yet
"past mine duke's
digits
though
ambiguous
though
avant-garde
let's not forget arcane
i
spill
free
yet
incredibly
Not"
I am a dilettante of 17th Century Baroque,
loving the elan style of this extravagant;
and avant garde art form full of boldness.
The gaudy ornamentation given wings,
and the artist wild carte blanche.
I never have ennui when at the gallery,
and wandering I am filled with deja vu.
Until one day I spotted an anomaly,
in a painting that I declared not bona fide;
oh, what a cacophony I caused that day.
___________________________
January 17, 2018
Poetry/Verse/A Baroque Dilettante
Copyright Protected, ID 18-9831-63-01
All Rights Reserved. Written Under Pseudonym.
Written for the contest, 10 Words, 10 Lines 2
sponsor, Silent One
Second Place