Long Botticelli Poems

Your image appears through a purple-hued haze of silence… 
weaving its whispered dreamy spell, while you re-connect the strings of my sleeping heart
You go about undressing my soul as I watch your image drift in...

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"Sitting with Koans" 

Zazen sits zafu'd in the zendo
with the poetic monkey minds
echoing the sound of two hands clapping
producing sound bites bitten like Botticelli reprising
polishing red apples for eating the shining

listen to the sound of...

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"Suddenly you remember an old Chinese tale in which cats once ran 
     the world until they decided it was too much bother.  That's when you 
   ...

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I go to the art gallery often ...
          I like it all ... the Renaissance, Gothic, and Baroque period
       and...

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 "Art washes away from the soul
the dust of everyday life."

                        ...

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“Expresso Shot”

He drank tibetan milk tea 
from his saucer
like a cloistered munk 

his conversation 
was hushed and tinctured 
with fountains of try-too-hard satire 

he spoke softly 
and quite fast 
like a panther doing laps

a surprise...

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Botticelli and his Primavera-
 
                    a painting
    visually lyrical
    ...

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"Birth of Venus" 

The yo yo 
bleeds and bends
a life haunted by ghouls

green nymphs
blowing pixie dust
kissing bottom 

a donkey’s soul
tight rope walkin' -
all for love

trust 
is the pill 
swallowed

suspension;

addiction, 
the lies laid 
believed in cut...

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"petites éruptions" 

life pops 
oven red 
poppy petals

opium
eyes smoking
jade reflections

deep 
as the deep
blue ocean 

milky skin soft 
and sweet as 
juicy peaches 

crimson lips 
crushing cool 
as a red hot kitchen 

entree for the tasting...

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Big red buckets and yellow elephants
Standing on mice wearing pink flared pants
Oil filled puddles of many rainbow hews
And crocodile upholstered chapel pews

Armies of platform shoe wearing dogs
Wearing wigs made from living frogs
Thick carpets made of...

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I could write a song about a sunset,
The awesome natural beauty of majestic rosy skies, 
But sunsets aren't aware they've been admired
And if I sang those words I'd be receiving no replies.
 
I could write...

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"Tightropes of the Three Graces" 

Tightropes
for hanging clothes
on a line 

each piece 
pegged wooden
held between closed fences

misfortune's breeze lifts
sleeves like covers
pointing the way home

books and their pages
for The Davenport dancers 
all's well that ends well...

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I longed for more time
to lay cornerstones, 
but life had started 
detaching my soles


I wanted more daylight
to see a Galaxy of beauty
that rested, 
within one finger of breath


I desired of many things


to walk the Ponte...

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Poems are chickens
They are early risers
The rooster is your masterpiece


Sandra was not the wife of Botticelli
Neither Sarah, Liz or Cherry
Who gave birth to Venus?


Words are fickle
Go to the north
They will kick on your ass from...

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Sandro
Mastering his skill of painting, diligent to detail, color, and Frescos (Sistine Chapel)
Born in Florence, Italy, apprenticed as a goldsmith, then later with a master painter 
By 1472, he had his own workshop where he...

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Some oils on canvas by Sandro Botticelli
will never capture what I now see.
There is a young woman with great beauty.
This heavenly vision is stimulating me.
As Jackson Browne sings: “She must be somebody’s baby”,
the music and...

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SEPTEMBER BRIDES
` ` , ,,,,    ,`  `` ```,,,,,, ,`````





magenta boughs sheer as bridal lace
adorn mid summer-time trees
they flutter like acrylic confetti glazed,
and scattered on rapturous breeze

Botticelli petals drift like scarlet flakes...

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In a passion of fashion, at the height's
of female pulchritude; try as she might,
Wobbling to walk on five inch stilletos;
All she got were awkward gawks from the fellows.

So not a cat but board walk by...

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Footles, as one, regarding Spring by Sandro Botticelli



Sandro
Does Know:

Venus-
Genus

Darkened,
Starkened

West wind
Chlore sinned;

Shrewd glance,
Now dance

Bough, her
Flower;

Three Grace
At base

Bypass
Time sass,

Laurels
Morals

Orange grove,
Bee soave;

Broody-
Nudie

Looks left,
Bereft,

Cupid,
Stupid

As love
Above

High arts,
Babe farts

Passion's
Rations. 



March 18, 2023
A Brian Strand Premiere No 1200 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Brian...

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