Long Configurations Poems
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Conflagrations of Contemplation
Elemental exaltations for refined explanations
Permeatations of conflagrations that seek to define progressive nations
Illuminations of consecrations that have me seeking contemplation
Acclimatisation toward configurations that have been building a new space station
Fusions of finite resources to be plundering
Contusions of insight and sources to be pondering
Infusions of delight without remorse to be wondering
Confusions of contrite concourse to be sundering
I can see the echoes of loss and grief inside your eyes
I’d set you free if it weren’t so painful to watch you cry
But then who would relieve me from the tears accumulating in my eyes
As I watch you smile above it all and attune in your disguise
Postulations on productive thought and ethical considerations
Aberrations of reductive sport that leaves you in commiserations
Attestations that they can be bought in these times of sellout consternations
Distillations that leave me over wrought with latent contemplations
Fundamental Answers cannot be found through statements designed to obfuscate
Experimental philosophical dancers design the concepts to debate
Compartmental insinuations that are defined to constantly conflate
Transcendental notions that are refined to expansively illuminate
The End Copyright Elizabeth Moroz
CONFIGURATIONS
excitment
in gestural
figurative
emotive
motifs
highlighted
moments
becoming
reasons
&
influences
of
existential
purposets
incorporating
themes
taking stock
events
in
polar
opposites
to ruminate
over
&
acknowledge
imagination
uncover
see
&remember
so
open
& free
a
collaborative
harmony
as a
starting point
punctuate
&
entrench
a
recurring
optical
effect
of
an
unknown
NOTE:THIS IS AN OPEN(organic) FORM VERSE using spaces&breaks without grammatical symbols ,the ' open' relies upon 'the one breath limitation' & so inherently requires the 'reader' (reciter) to input and responds thus making this enigmatic form a two way interplay & interpretatIon unique to the moment& changing according to mood is inherently variable.
Copyright © Brian Strand
Butterflies are a magical magnificent wonder of our world's skies
In many ways they are not dissimilar to us coming in all different colours categories configurations and size.
Butterflies can't see their own wings they never know their outer beauty or no how truly beautiful they are
But everyone else can see them and can admire their breathtaking beauty a comparison not too far
To our human nature
Such a delicacy and in the same instance there fluttering features so delicate
Fragile to the core yet they dance with such fierce verocity truly supereminent,
No fear as they dart from side to side busy fulfilling their fluttering butterfly duties,
Such pure souls can't stay here for too long 15 to 29 days for these beauties,
Is this why they flutter by so quickly gliding with urgency through the skies
Because there is so much to do and such little time to do it before their demise.
I wonder if they contemplate their destined fate
Not taking a single second for granted keeping them constantly fluttering by their due date.
Sounds splendid not knowing how disgustingly dazzling you truly are,
Not having that self conscious hang up based on appearance would be bizarre
You simply exist with heavenly peace, mental tranquility sounds like beautiful bliss.
Spending days fluttering amongst floral incenses the aroma a sweet treat
Birds soar high above bouncing from branch to branch of the tall trees as they tweet
Nature's colour palette is so bright from the dainty petals of the wandering wildflowers
As I dash from flower to flower full of pure joyful glee fluttering tumbling swooping and soaring
I could dance for hours with other insects like a buzzy bumbling bee
I'm a beautiful butterfly you see, now you can see me in all my beauty and glory,
And it doesn't really bother me I'm content not seeing my wings they are there so I can fly mainly
So I'm as content as can be, just being a beautiful butterfly fluttering away as I pass thee.
Convoluted Possibilities
Constellations of configurations that capture my fading breathe
Elevations of consummations that reflect on all that’s left
Inclinations towards imitations that leave me feeling bereft
Commiserations for the consternations as a life lingers upon death
Collusions of covert planning that draw nefarious conclusions
Intrusions of introverted inclinations that produce clarity of thought amidst the confusion
Infusions of concert performances that are based on artistic delusions
The fusion of science and geometry that defy mathematical protrusions
Designations of grace and contemplation amidst a crystal stream
Resignations of place and contestations that induce the quiet man to scream
Conflagrations of misplaced elevations that produce a lucid dream
Amalgamations of disgraced technocratic awe captured in a meme
Beautification in the aftermath of philosophical inquiry and inquisition
Stupefaction at the polymath contriving his expertise without contrition
Communication flowing toward the empath as she absorbed the emotional vision
Calcification of the psychopath devoid of feeling amidst their precision
Morality and consequence above constellations of burning stars
Tonality and influence that drive around in expensive cars
The fallacy of innocence exposed to malevolence from afar
Polarity that is the inference of the political players counting cards
An essence of retrospect that stirs true emotion to begin to rise
Convalescence of intellect that brings a tear upon my eyes
Incandescence of a dialect burning like a candle in demise
Reminiscence of a moment in time that memory causes her to cry
Affluence and greed among the overpriviledged few
Common sense and need preside over the ageing and the new
Malcontents that feed on the morsels of the gossip in the stew
A mind that’s dense but beautiful leads the crowd and that is you!
The End Copyright Elizabeth Moroz
a stranger in familiar land
my blood
too sings from the cracks
of cobbled streets
i can count paces
between the old and new
i felt it within delicate configurations :
carvings and photographs,
ceramic figurines dipped in resin
my Mama’d collected,
passing
down like water in a slow stream
tipped in gravity
like me
i heard a song and let it carry me
felt a pull outside the scenes
of my fatherland
a daughter meant to leave
said my impassive stars,
if actions were to mean anything
but what does meaning look like?
everything looks the same here
but older
i hang the washing, walk
to the shop for eggs and cheese
and when i go back
i fall right in-
to all the same places
(only I’m driving)
but ‘nothing’s too far away
these days’ i tell my sister
and my friends,
sipping
beer as good as Texas
on a Tuesday in the west end
dripping
with irony
and maybe even satisfaction
There is nothing at all that appears on the norm.
Our surroundings are strange after the wake of the storm.
The ship was ripped apart like tin foil.
On this surface, we are slipping as if covered with oil.
We pause on the edge of a deep abyss.
Draped and muffled in a mist, everything is amiss.
Normally heavy objects are light and easy to throw.
This big heavy stone feels almost like a pillow.
Where do we dwell right now, I really don’t know.
We are not on the earth. That is a fact we can’t deny.
The stars are in different configurations in the sky.
Things look so strange to say the least.
Even the sun appears to be setting in the east.
The comet must have hit the earth, and we are on it right now.
Thank God we have survived this disaster somehow.
draped/ slipping/ pause/ edge/ muffled/ foil/ wake/ deny/ dwell/ pillow
Based on the science fiction novel "Off On a Comet" by the late Jules Verne
MEDITATIVES
burning shame
reclusive
& ascetic
depicted
concentration
in a
muted
panoply
of humdrum
existence
continuously
& meticulously
shuffled
a lyrical
intensity
discovered
suspending time
in
memorable images
unveiled
modesty
passionate
in
poetic celebration
quiet
enigmatic
pure:
flirteing
with abstraction
an
emphasis upon
time-stopping
stillness
sensuouality
in
making
which confounds
distinctive
often recurring
in
elaborate
pieces
infinitely
arranged
in
intricate
configurations
imbued
contours
an
ensemble
of painted
cornucopia
quivering
yearning
clustered
subtly
caressed
seeking solace
in
the
surrounding void
in
cautious
togetherness
cloaked
casting
long shadows
transforming
the everyday
with
inanimate
transcendency
Contemplating,
contemplating....
Sounds so very
like me!
Trying to add up
life's wondrous
configurations?
In my minuscule,
mental nation!
After many decades,
my mind is so very
tired.
Still won't get it...
till a stamp on my
head that reads,
"Expired!"
8/21/2021
4
water is part of my very existence
it is within me and all around me in different configurations
in the rainwater that drips and flows upon my windows
drizzle in the night and my tears that fall forming teardrops
in puddles after a summer storm
the dew on my flowers of morning dripping in the sun
in different drinking glasses, my bathtub, my saliva,
an ice cube melting growing smaller
a spill, a spatter, a sprinkle, a dribble
the lakes, rivers, streams, oceans and seas
pools and fountains and waterfalls, fish tanks and fish ponds
the great northern glaciers shifting and moaning
melting and flooding the ocean changing the world's architecture
a drop in the ocean spreading and spreading
waves crashing on a shore endlessly
and foam gathering, misty
snow falling in intricate snowflake patterns
the contour of ice icicles
frost freezing on my windows in filigree shapes
a snowman melting in spring
___________________
June 15, 2021
Poetry/Free Verse/water is life
Copyright Protected, ID 06-1363-599-15
All Rights Reserved, 2021, Constance La France
Eluding My Ressurection
Eluding the proposition of more work to be done
Prelude to the inquisition that is blocking out the sun
I can only conclude that the ammunition was hard fought and won
While the interlude for the intermission has only just begun
Statutory situations from behind a judges bench presiding
Defamatory imitations that aren’t worth justifying
Auditory insinuations that see a person testifying
Crematory conflagrations that are somewhat death defying
Intercontinental ballistic missiles heading for a major city
Coincidental trajectories on the inside that are the opposite of pretty
Environmental projectiles that leave humans loitering in complicity
Developmental officials that stunt the growth of those without pity
Acrimonious altercations that leave you shocked and stunned
Parsimonious purification that has men reaching for their guns
Disharmonious communications that make you feel inclined to run
Sanctimonious salutations that remove the laughter from the fun
Aberrations of contemplations that leave my thinking incomplete
Abdications of compensations that keep you working on your feet
Complications of innovations that seem to be headed for defeat
Combinations of annotations that keep your words strong enough to compete
Augmentation of technological conversations altered for their privilege and stature
Conflagrations of mythological consternations that have people waiting for the rapture
Insinuations of psychological manifestations that make you feel like you are captured
Constellations of astronomical configurations that engender awe and enrapture
I’m hoping that the tides will flow in favour of my direction
While eloping from the slides that show my wanting predilection
For downward sloping motions that grow upward in their redirection
As they live while coping in the know of my resurrection
The End Copyright Elizabeth Moroz