Long Ekphrasis Poems
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I had a dream that I was a butterfly
winged iridescent; my life would flutter by
as I was dreaming a dream of a dream of
my own lepidopteron being above.
Hither and thither I flightily flitted,
or so it seemed, as illusion befitted,
with troubles, eidolons, and nebulous fears.
And thus it continued for one hundred years.
In the Nymphalidae family was I,
akin to the nebula high in the sky
with beauty Cithaerial shimmering bright
in colors that cover the spectrum of light.
Knots and shells detailed in this Hubble capture
glow in light show that can bring about rapture,
cause soulful poets to sing about gladly
(seeing a butterfly wing about madly)
or brood over sadly with soft doleful sighs
the ultimate stages before its demise.
Stargazers perceive it with scientists’ eyes
and give facts and figures astronomer-wise.
The lobes of Twin Jet PN M Two Dash Nine
expand ever outward in pinion design
from central star system, in gaseous streams
of splendorous rainbows pellucid in gleams.
The binary stars at the nebula’s heart
go round one another in luminous art,
spending a century in this rotation,
and form the wings through their stellar gyration.
But let us return to the classical theme
of the Chinese philosopher’s famous dream
(which these rhyming stanzas have sought to extol),
where I found myself playing a starring role.
Diaphanous butterfly wings had I then
in the long-lived dream that I dreamed ten by ten
decades lastingly onward in cosmic time,
as did Sleeping Beauty in legend sublime.
Yet when I awakened, no alae had I.
No longer was I slender winged butterfly,
but veritably was a human once more,
with life to engage in, encounter, explore,
or just suffer through in a sentient state.
How would I create my tellurian fate?
Still I wondered if this was ‘reality’.
Could I be a butterfly dreaming of me?
To die, perchance dream; ay, indeed that’s the rub
that makes us endure the heartache and hubbub.
For death claims all beings as part of its sum.
And in sleep of death, who knows what dreams may come?
~ Harley White
______________________________________________
Inspiration for the poem was from the article, “The wings of the butterfly ~ New Hubble image of the Twin Jet Nebula”, of August 25, 2015, on the Hubble Space Telescope Org website.
the ghost of science, born of blasphemy ~
a fossilized fallacy,
seized from the metallic heart of Mars,
seeks light amidst night-terrors
like an alien sculpted
from artificial accolades,
an embryo stuck in the interstellar state
of becoming,
stitched within radioactive ribs
beneath moonless skies,
when wolves of the eclipsed howl,
filling the illusive air with hypnotic lies,
as if the world chose to recycle
ruins of ancient dust…
but will the naive see the pain
of a breathing corpse?
engrossed in narcissistic echoes,
in the shadows of a megalomaniac ~
his skin ~ the translucent truth,
his eyes ~ the wickedness of a wasp,
his skull ~ reeks of human greed,
his sighs ~ mourn like skeletal sirens,
coded in russet rust,
cloned from binary sand,
d o r m a n t
yet
d r e a m i n g
to break free from the
carbon-based existence…
for he is the aftermath
of programming the forbidden mind,
oblivious to the weakness of scientific errors ~
a deceptive drawing,
framing the elongated hypothalamus,
pulsating a hypothesis
left with no clear conclusion.
tonight I run to a realm of reality
that fades when
dawn bleeds gold,
for truth is now an extinct breed,
as artists outline faces of the faded,
illustrating the unknown and unseen,
as revelations ribbon
with silver haze…
the constellations ~ no longer spectators ~
they are the archived,
within frozen scriptures,
scrolling stars in a sphere
of distorted algorithm…
as memories of angels and heaven
spill from silicon prophets,
disguised as messengers who serve
the blind with ominous oracles ~
in synthetic cadence,
in a choir of puppets ~
the iron-glazed tongues shall recite,
mimicking the sound of harmonious hymns…
yet I remember
the authentic rhythm of prayers,
lost now in the drifting colors of darkness…
so what is life
when all that floats is like
an engineered empyrean
only equations of numbers
can decipher?
is this the beginning of an end ~
inevitable?
the lost generation,
assembled as the ministry of superiority,
where emptiness is praised
with forged grace
and ignorance is crowned with digital deceit.
let this be flawed poetry ~
to be read through the cracked lens
of a philosopher ~
or perhaps a logic long replaced
by pretend perfection…
Viewing the crucifixion scene capturing my soul
I'm glued to the vital character bearing the painting's essence
Staring at His image, my mind is gripped with Scripture verses
Unraveling momentous event in history - spiritual and miraculous
Asserting biblical Christianity's glorious message
Lauding compassion's omnipotence wrought by the Almighty Father.
Overwhelmed with gratefulness, I'm moved to worship...
Facing the beauty of the Lamb of God, I exclaim:
Crucified slaughtered Saviour, Jesus Christ the Lord
Redeemer and Deliverer, He vanquished death’s sting.
Unwavering in His sacrifice, offering Himself willingly
Calvary’s Hill He surmounted toward eternal victory’s height.
Infinite pardon He declared along “Father, forgive them” plea
Freeing hell-bound sinners from iniquities’ wages.
Immutable truth obscurity cannot hide
Expressing “I am the way, the truth, and the Life”
Dearly He paid the price to ransom me from condemnation’s verdict.
Seeing my Saviour in His suffering state, yet triumphant stature
Awakens my spiritual fervor, anchored by His love...
Vouching me verily, renewing my vow to live for Him.
Imparted with His divine nature, I’m illumined...
Overtaken by service-opportunities from selfishness’ grip
Upheld to exercise my faith midst strengthened heart
Revived to testify “I am crucified with Christ, nevertheless I live…”
Today, I put my faith in You, dear Jesus Christ. You died, were buried and resurrected to give me everlasting salvation. I trust and believe that only YOU can give me eternal life. Forgive me for my sins. Thanks so much for your love, and for assuring me heaven.
*Matthew 27:33-50; Mark 15:33-39; Luke 23:33-47; John 19:17-37.
**Galatians 2:20 “I am crucified with Christ: nevertheless I live; yet not I, but Christ liveth in me: and the life which I now live in the flesh I live by the faith of the Son of God, who loved me, and gave himself for me.”
Ekphrasis in Acrostic form
February 15, 2019
7th place, "Final Call Of NAs Your Most Meaningful One" Poetry Writing Contest; Sponsored by Chantelle Ann Cooke; judged on 10/8/2020.
"Girl with a Pearl Earring" is an oil painting by Dutch Golden Age painter Johannes Vermeer, dated c. 1665. Going by various names over the centuries, it became known by its present title towards the end of the 20th century after the earring worn by the girl portrayed there. Wikipedia
Artist: Johannes Vermeer
Dimensions: 44 cm x 39 cm
Location: Mauritshuis
Created: 1665
Period: Dutch Golden Age
Medium: Oil on canvas
What do you tell me, My Beauty?
You turn and stop..,
you look at me with your wistful eyes,
your luscious lips are apart, but you remain voiceless…
The pearl in your ear shines ~
light on your face shimmers mysteriously,
your eyes are calm ~ reflecting, refracting
the depth of your emotions…
those dove-like eyes are artist’s inspiration!
The topaz blueness of your headscarf
with which you have covered your sensuality,
surround your face with serenity of
the ocean, gleaming emerald green
of your dress evokes the unspoilt
beauty of your youth…..
You are not what you appear
to many souls in this mundane world…
they don’t see the painter’s Muse…
You are the nymph, who visited me
for a rare moment of tranquility,
the Pearl shone, an iridescent
gem sparkling, opening your heart~
You remain immortal in my creation...
my masterpiece?!
April 25, 2022
For Brian Strand Premiere Choice Poetry Contest
THIRD PLACE
Roots and Dandelion Dreams: A Mother's Heart
- Daniel Henry Rodgers
Roots and Dandelion Dreams: A Mother's Heart
- Daniel Henry Rodgers
At dawn's first blush,
milkweed pods,
burst with a sigh,
A feathery shower of,
silk sending secrets...
on the wind's soft cry.
Yesterday they wore a crown of pink
Today they are set free;
like dandelion dreams floating on the vast sea
a thousand wishes taking flight.
I see you spinning gracefully
on dandelion fluff.
each strand like a
glowing thread
forming a halo.
Your laughter flows like
a babbling
brook over stones.
while your tears resemble mist
clinging to ferns in
the whisping breeze.
As twilight falls and fireflies twinkle
like scattered stars,
a new constellation is born.—
a flickering dance in the dimming light
as transient, as a summer evening.
In your eyes wild irises bloom
reflecting the evening sky as
they search for their fragrance.
Amidst meadowlarks songs
welcoming the dawn in morn.
my heart remains intertwined
with yours like a nurturing vine
that delves into the soil
forever connected to you.
You write the poetry of life
moments full of freedom.
Like a ballet of butterflies
a child experiencing wonder,
both wild and free.
No need,
for preaching!
just the melody of the wind
whispering through
the pine trees.
A communication,
a connection that binds eternally.
With patience engraved
in the face of mountains
I stand as a protector.
a sanctuary in this forests
intricate beauty.
While shadows dance in a transient
vanishing performance
My love stands firm like
a redwood sentinel enduring
all challenges.
In the settling of dusk,
where fireflies sparkle,
My presence is like a meadow
where bluebirds dream.
For you,
my child,
are a hawk,
on the wind's caress.
Soaring on thermals,
a spirit,
etched upon your face.
My heart,
a beacon's steady fire,
guiding,
through the unknown,
In this life's,
choreography,
bathed in your,
boundless exploration.
Mother
Sheltering, strong
Branches rustle tales
Roots grip the earth deep
Child
Eyes, in such a way, that some strange virture, some everlasting release
Was imparted to he. A strange bargain indeed; to resist the gods and to please
Satan in his rebellioin from all that was natural, yet also noxious
After a tie; for, to what end unlimited perfection…..it would seem abnoxious
With no end in sight; and big oaks and trees seeming mortal, yet not dying
Ever guessing His source, teasing their mysteries and playing
And their relation to Adam; her husband, not by choice
But a program counter-intuitive; such that her voice
Would only ever be a mere shadow, a gaunt echo
Of Adam and his Masters booming light, much like the gecko
Who hides softly and silkily in shade cool and damp
Or the giant elephant loping about clumsy who only seems to tramp
‘Why this gecko seeking moist air, when the sun chokes his breathe
Or the elephant, whose stampde maks him an unwelcome guest.
Not content to merely laugh at the huge trunk of the dromedary and his tusk
To reach up and grab his elephantine robes and to smell his musk
Likely she grew tired of the large mammal and his heavy hoof beats
Relentlessly poundingthe earth beneath, hearing him, perhaps from Africa to Crete
And caused the rumbling which finally toppled the walls of those fair cities Minoan
Or how else did the Kingdom of Knossos fall, so far, the ancient site shows a window
Of perfect harmony and bliss an ordered society and blest, with violence well at bay
The Idylli morals deepset in grape and olive, crushed sunset with sailors at play
Riding on top of dolphins and drinking from the boot, gathering for the store-house
Oil, Wine and Wheat; preparing for competition with glove to box or race to trod---no man a louse
It would seem this island fantasy a paradise much like that mentioned in Genesis, Eden
Where the rule of the monarch rested lightly on the people; and men had ample time to find their abundant pleasure, among the dolphin or minotaur
Where pictures depict gymnasts leapingover bulls and by so doing pass the bar
Of manhood in such simple and playful way, with manly innocence
They had proven their version of the garden—With good sense
in the year 2098 on the planet Julephia in the Huilinium Galaxy an element called Pubbius was found, generating interest from all points of the galaxy. While mining pubier,(an alloy used to make rods in spaceships) the miners noticed the greenish blue element, and desided to extract it from it's orginal form, while doing so they realized it to be extrodinary, with the fact that it could be soothed and shaped by hand, without smelting and purifying the metallic element. The two used the soft form of the element and shaped it into a stone, it hardened after the miners hands were removed from the element forming a stone, one mining just thinking he was fashioning a copper wire to use to carry the stone found the discovery of a lifetime, the stone bega to glow, and heated the entire cave, and something else, it caused the radio transponder to act like a communication devise," we could her the voices of people, or creatures worlds away, on morning we heard a familiar voice the voice of the merchant ship's captain that had strained them their years before, also these people could hear them, this frightened some members of this abandoned mining planet, as they hadn't seen friendly faces for nearly two years, and they thought that some of these strange voices could be members of the dreded and feared, Mossingal a speicies of creatures who suppressed their desires to allow there bodies to to return to their prehistoric form, savage creatures who are known as maneaters." when we contacted the ship we told them in a code only someone who has had training in Galaxy mining could understand. We contacted the merchant ship DrapetoMagnus
and hoped that our recue would be made. Days later a ship hovered over the Mining home world, we thought we were saved, it was a ship, a Fe@d$rationship, with the outlaw,*ling*ns aboard. we were doomed!
Captain Koncous of the Doomed mission recovery, on the Mining Planet Julipeia."When the treat of Bifers madness set's in paranoid people will do anything to get what they want, they will consort with the likes of Muginba to achieve what they see as acheivments!" quoted the Captain, of this Doomed Mining planet!
Winds hustling pass the speed limit.
Trees whispering gossip;
obviously a scandalous myth.
She stares up into the copper brown walls.
Resting, but not relaxing, in a bed of straws.
Her long golden hair nesting at the back of her head.
Oh my might midnight star,
What a wonderful sight you are!
You live in the cold core of my heart.
Yet when I look up into the
dark luminous eyes of yours,
you are laying so very still
like a pupil dilating.
You cluster above her home,
Waiting for the girl to arrive just outside her door.
Yearning to shine your glistening light upon her face.
Oh admirable Moon,
you want to reach out to
her ravenous soul.
To heal the battle wounds left by her evil step family.
Oh starry, starry night,
I wish, I wish
that I just might be appeal-able
to attend the Dark Ball.
To be able to enter the mysterious dark hollow tree
castle that stands on top of the hill.
“Bring me an orange pumpkin
and fetch me some rats.
Bring me a dog and some laughter too.
See to it the eleven star be your guide.
And look out for your one falling glass slipper shoe.
Look at the village with merriment and show pride;
that Cinderella is no longer a peasant but a would-be bride.
Common now, you know the deal.
The magic is done and the starry night is seal.
Midnight is the time the truth will be revealed.”
She twirl about in her precious new gown
praising the wondrous moments one live through life.
Gathering her courage she step right up.
Humming the enchanted beauty of the night until
She reach on top.
You, mountain, peek through your curious eyes,
watching the girl ascend to her forthcoming.
You speak into the world, rumbling you reaction
of you understanding.
That you, mountain, are at the top of the world
and have seen it all,
but not the enticing love story stronger than the
stinging of a thousand bee.
Winds hustling pass the speed limit.
Trees whispering gossip;
obviously a scandalous myth.
For the real prince in disguise stand guard at the
entrance of the door.
Calm, cool mornings
Blessed with sunlight’s whisper,
Birds crooning softly in the distance,
Breathless dewdrops sliding hastily over
A petal, treasuring the promise of rain,
Hesitating then pouring down from heaven
In pails of beating BBs, little treasures
Telling of the adventures…
Mists rising on the river,
Inhaling the beautiful blessings,
Rich colors, blushing with the sounds,
Bubbling waters caressing the smooth stones,
Erasing the yesterday – the melancholy
Bleeding away, like plasma torn from her wounds,
Descending from the darkness,
Aching like the moon who remembers –
Graceful praises, heartfelt moments
The blending of acres of hope and a heritage
Blazing with joy – kindness – nostalgia
Her heart hears the heavens opening up,
Awakening on the autumn – glowing
Like stars who glisten in the distance, friendly
With the moon and just as beautiful as the moment
When a silent wish breathes through the distance,
Mystifying – freeing the friends to remember –
Just remember….
The hopes and dreams, the prayers and freedom
Filling the moments, the summer – the fall,
Binding up desires with graceful tunes, melodies
Pouring from the moments, rich with truth,
Ablaze with a beautiful that is shining like the
Moments, the reflections full of hope,
The inspirations growing in the hearts who know
This is the memory beyond recollections…
It is the heart, the soul, the direction
Taken by two who are bound by faith, grace
Unending beautiful – friends for life,
Living on the echo of prayers who remember
To reach past the darkness into the healing
The feeling embracing each remembrance
Two lights, two hearts, two joys who will never
Be past – they will always last – in the soul
Who knows that love just keeps going – going
Forever more, inside the heart who grows
More beautiful with each harvest time!
Thanks to love, I know the beautiful of nostalgia,
The beautiful of remembering – beautiful descending
From the promise of a wonderful who breathes –
Wishes and radiates friendship!
Is it a butterfly out in the blue,
poised in its daintily delicate flight—
nebula N G C six three oh two—
offering rhymers a poem to write?
In our galaxy, that is the Way Milky,
with structure bipolar in particular,
appear those elongated wings so silky,
from the gas that’s spewed forth perpendicular
to the doughnut-shaped dust ring pinching its core.
Talk about outer space distances far,
this butterfly stretches two light-years and more,
half the distance from Sun to the nearest star,
which is Alpha Centauri, to be precise.
This fairytale picture, a magical treat
like sugar and spice and everything nice,
doth awaken our childhood senses sweet.
Found in the Scorpius Constellation,
it’s known as the Bug Nebula as well.
Yet in this versified celebration
its Butterfly name suits the tale to tell.
With dust belt that gives it an hourglass mien,
though appearance deceives and perceptions can spoil,
one conjures up quite an impression serene.
But cauldrons of heated gas furiously roil
within each planetary nebula wing
of the butterfly that it’s resembling.
The gas tears across this immense outer space
at six hundred thousand miles an hour!
Imagine a butterfly at such a pace
frantically flitting from flower to flower!
So Butterfly Nebula’s not as it seems.
Like the bubble, bubble, trouble and toil
in nightmarish witch Shakespearean dreams,
it is seething in inner and outer turmoil…
And with dying star center five times mass solar,
no wonder that poor butterfly is bipolar!
~ Harley White
[Inspiration for the poem was from the article, 'Butterfly Emerges from Stellar Demise in Planetary Nebula NGC 6302' ~ Image: NGC 6302 (Butterfly Nebula, Bug Nebula) ~ The image is a composite of separate exposures made by the WFC3 instrument on the Hubble Space Telescope. Six filters were used to sample narrow wavelength ranges. The color results from assigning different hues (colors) to each monochromatic image. ~ Image credit: NASA, ESA, and the Hubble SM4 ERO Team]