Long Dapple Poems
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So many want only to decorate
Over life, dapple in shiny paint
From responsibility, they choose to excuse
Their delicate hands from such a bruise
They are irked, if asked to lurk
In the murk of work
They think they are owed a road
That is freely breezy
After all, it is easy
To do what is easy
To do what is hard
Takes more regard
Elbow grease ain't pretty
But you need nitty-gritty
To build a city
It is not the starry-eyed seeker of fame
Who is processing your insurance claim
Or unclogging your drains, or growing your grains
That sleek-cheeked, vainglorious movie star
Isn't down at the garage, fixing your car
Spare me the confetti and pompous flash
My admiration is for those picking up my trash
Let's cheer the truck driver and the cashier
The factories and taxis that bring jobs here
The blue-collar unions that creates careers
From lessons of concessions during depressions
A paycheck's a better bet
Than esoteric expressions.
7/06/20
Migrating southward, before Autumn dies;
flocks of geese split the air with honking cries.
And snow clouds dapple Winter's ice-blue skies,
as winds kiss the trees with audible sighs.
Dawn's first light ignites an ice-cold sunrise;
long-gone are the songbirds and butterflies.
Yet, some creatures have learned to improvise,
turning food into fat, they winterize.
Hibernating bears must bulk up their size,
not gorging in the Fall, would be unwise.
A long Winter could lead to their demise,
should the need to wake up early arise.
Inclement weather tends to brutalize;
for nature doesn't react well to surprise.
Fighting starvation and all it implies,
some species evolved to cannibalize.
Dandelions poke their heads up in Spring,
as snowdrops, daffodils, and tulips show.
Their buds bloom and spread when warm breezes blow,
hinting at what Summer's weather will bring.
Dandelion roots are a stubborn thing,
evolved to sprout early and swiftly grow.
And they generally push through the snow
long before the songbirds return to sing.
Yellow polka-dots dapple fields of green
until they merge into a golden fleece.
And florets soon don white cottony shawls,
while seed-laden parachutes flee the scene.
Metamorphosing into a release,
dandelions shape-shift into blow-balls.
Falling in & out of night
flying in & out of ribbons, threads of creation
that fall upon all the eternal emerald seas
Golden lands stretching out before me,
I touch it delicately, softly is the sound of Grace
feeling the gold, setting Sun, a coming of twilight
Silence before the oncoming storm
the ozone
the rain
catching the holy light of a silvery moon,
in carved chalices of ruined blackened stone
rises bright, its ghosts dapple n plays
intricately upon the puddles of passing rain,
feeling in the coming of knight
falling in and out of light,
falling in and out of the silver rays of moonrise,
the grace, eternal, silver planes
the land vast and asleep
I have decreed all I feel as it stretches out before me.
I touch it softly feeling the vibrations of Grace…
As light falls in and out of night
Drifting through these pale fingers…
Breezes nudge, nodding flowers,
spilling dewdrops on the ground.
And white clouds dapple blue skies,
floating by without a sound.
Dandelion tufts tickle,
flying high above the grass.
And dragonflies start flexing
cellophane wings; clear as glass.
Spit beetles build bubble homes,
spun from foamy, frothy dew.
And a silken spider's web
cast an iridescent hue.
Though summer's heat won't relent;
cool shadows shadow the hedge.
And raspberry bushes grow;
along the road's dusty edge.
As mosquitoes bite bare skin,
grasshoppers fold paper wings.
And as I look around, I'm
surrounded by summer things.
Portrait II *
By: Tom Wright
1/31/02
Meticulously mixed, my days as paint,
my life, a canvas, on an easel stand.
Each brushstroke from the palette,
precisely placed by the Masters hand.
Solely exhibited will be yon things,
which I exclusively, in stone, have cast.
Finally on canvas, change I can't,
things permanently etched into my past.
As each day's paint is so aptly applied,
with others, interlaced, they quickly dry.
Oft, seen are things that disappoint,
such as black daubs, on dapple colored sky.
Each day , has been a single brush stroke;
In paint, one life, that soon shall fade.
God's portrait of another unique person,
a rainbow, consisting of every shade.
October sunbeams, inking Autumn trees,
edge their leaves with ribbons of molten gold.
And raining confetti with every breeze;
rivulets of scarlet and cerise flow:
letting streams of color flood the landscape.
And as gilded leaves weave a golden fleece,
yellow gets added to Fall's ticker tape:
as Autumn's pageant begins to take shape.
Crimson embers flare into orange flames;
incinerating all traces of green.
And living up to the hype Autumn claims:
chartreuse and puce pigments dapple the scene,
and the air smells earthy, yet crisp and clean.
As Nature senses Winter's arrival,
Songbirds head south, while squirrels hide their stash.
As Nature senses Winter's arrival;
Songbirds fly south, while squirrels hide their stash.
And bears hibernate for their survival:
amongst sugar maples and mountain ash;
where vermillion and amber motifs clash.
Carmine, crimson, vermillion, and cerise,
dapple canopies of emerald green.
And the ground morphs into a golden fleece;
as yellow, orange, gold, and tangerine,
mark a pathway south for migrating geese.
Autumn's beauty can take one's breath away:
like Spring; it's a colorful time of year.
And when pigments and breezes interplay,
abstract mosaics begin to appear:
while fallen leaves get blown in disarray.
Alabaster hoarfrost dusts the landscape;
as Jack Frost etches swirls on windowpanes.
And Autumn's as barren as a moonscape
when skeletal trees are all that remains;
of Fall's colorful fantasy dreamscape.
Bay Area Nigh December
A tryst on a San Francisco trolley
that exhibits penchant amidst a glance,
for 'tis wintry time launch all, too jolly
save two turtledoves, culled cooed romance
left in steep devotion, neglects folly.
Atone solemn occasions ere chapel
doors left open, soul worshippers pass stained
glass multicolored figurines, dapple
its windows amidst Christmasy lights, trained
eyes in wonder, gulp an adam's apple.
Snowflakes patterned distinctly, blankets bare
grounds painstakingly, changing verdant green
to an achromatic dressed whitewash wear,
rotating perspective picturesque scene
consistent seasons shift that we now fare.
The Golden Gate bridge, waning its glit of
citrus rising, squirting into blind eyes
forced to shades, now visibly shone 'twas love
delicate trace of your countenance guise
as it chalks a blackboard wrote from above.
2020 November 14
*8th Place*
Quintain-Sicilian
~~Emile Pinet
In a zoo in a strange land
a zebra stands
flaunting the bright stripes
of a collective band
against the russett tussle of leaves
that exit trees before a cold wind.
He is far from the windswept plain
of his dreams; that parched place
where drought adapted trees wane,
until at last renewed by rain,
an over-night fantasy of growth
glides greenly,
quicker than evening-tide.
Here, where Autumn has a strange glow,
bare trees, steal the dapple from his coat.
Knee deep in a pile of red leaves
he yields the life blood of his soul,
flowing from a freedom remembered
100 in a ROW contest -- 15
Contest Judged: 9/24/2016 8:56:00 PM
Sponsored by: Poet Destroyer A
6th Place