Long Pointillist Poems
Long Pointillist Poems. Below are the most popular long Pointillist by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Pointillist poems by poem length and keyword.
Sunday
fun day
elders
brothers
from church
they search
warm place
wide space
for folks
need jokes
chill out
burnt-out
tired knees
'neath trees
19 April 2022
A Brian Strand Premiere Choice Poetry Contest
2nd place
Notes: A Sunday Afternoon on the Island of La Grande Jatte (French: Un dimanche après-midi à l'Île de la Grande Jatte) was painted from 1884 to 1886 and is Georges Seurat's most famous work. A leading example of pointillist technique, executed on a large canvas, it is a founding work of the neo-impressionist movement. Seurat's composition includes a number of Parisians at a park on the banks of the River Seine. It is in the collection of the Art Institute of Chicago.(Credits: Wikimedia and Wikipedia).
Art Is Everywhere
Countless dots of living color
Begin to show
As plants break thru the soil
Blending together
To form a radiant landscape carpet
In a pointillist form
Trees and flowers appearing
As mere impressions
In a thick morning mist
When the mist begins to clear
Their realism appears
While looking out a window
A child sees the wind is
Spinning a wheel
On his overturned bike
He laughs and yells
Dada
Discarded soup cans
Lightly covered by falling leaves
Their labels still showing
What a Pop Art scene
Arborist, lost, plastic watch
Half melted by last summer’s sun
Hanging from a branch
While other bare tree branches
Soar horizontally and vertically
Carving out multiple spaces
Against the sky
Completing a surreal landscape
*Image of Education by UY.
A Cog in The Machine
Life advances their kind of entrusting stays,
origin of roots possessing foundation,
flung to care sprouts variable promises,
~~executes each seed.
The great void advents the id of emptiness;
launched needs, yet farfetched and demanding the task,
contending the fathom fact of dimensions,
~~inception account.
Countless bearings operate the mechanism,
instants cognitive effortless life makers,
quintessential beats absence into the void,
~~marked units of time.
Simplistic explanative of a machine,
the inner workings of every component,
jointly toiling as a singularity,
~~a fitting duty.
A pristine canvas lengthens on a tripod,
while a sable paintbrush jabs an empty point,
visionist Seurat and Signac rethink art,
~~Pointillist purview.
A concert hall seasons an orchestra pit,
woodwinds, brass, percussion, strings, keyboards, chorale,
symphonic blends as a meek piccolo peal,
~~a highest-pitched tune.
The world is our stage where we fulfill our roles,
all taking part in a scene that is rehearsed,
a constant performance since opening night,
~~functioning beings.
Inconsequential entity's conjuring
queries who's who, what's what drives absoluteness,
amassed strays, exacts focus o'er all, for I ...
~~... am the unique one.
2022 May 17
*1st Place*
Pick-A-Title, Vol 30
~~Edward Ibeh: Judged 2022 May 29
*Title #3
HMS; 11,11,11,5 syllables x 32 lines = 8 sapphic stanzas
Colour intermingled
in the spectator’s eye
divisions juxtapose
‘as is’ moment ..dot.. by dot..
frozen forever
as a ‘still-life’ shot
Colours in contrast
one next
to another
patiently painted
dab by dab
Planes into particles
pigments of paint
in patches react
divisionist,
pointillist juxtapose
into our eye colour flows.
Meticulous,mechanical
the illusion
into shape
palettes of the fleeting
made permanent
Pointillist People
louis hayet
alfred finch&
verhaeren
.. then
georges lemmen
angrand henri cross
van de velde &
albert dubois-pillet
& lets
not forget
camille&lucien
father&son pissarro
you may know
maximillan luce
jan toorup&
van rysselberghe
& you'll already heard
of
signac &seurat
stand so tall
pointillistas*
one&all
Colours in contrast
one next
to another,
patiently painted
dab by dab.
Cyan, magenta
yellow and key
illume the picture we see.
Planes into
particles,pigments of paint
in patches react
divisionist pointillist
juxtapose
into our eye
distinct colour flows
Meticulous mechanical
eye into mind defined
the illusion into shape.
In palettes of
permanance
the fleeting flies
sans such subtraction
luminosity lives
Seurat, and Signac’s
legacy survives
I sit and watch.
Changes come so slowly.
So, vigilance is required,
an attentiveness to minutia.
There are layers of wardings
erected between
the watch and I.
Thoughts, which flit and skitter
fight for outward movement.
Flesh that is too weak to hold attention,
leans toward the walls of cracks;
where even the plaster pulls
from its sheaf
and the dirty
double paned glass
waylays the eye.
Enthralled by the changes:
rain to sleet, to snow, to hail, to rain,
the maple buds leaving
their pointillist, rouge-lacquered shells,
dropping like the wings
of an emergent butterfly; I root.
Nights of storm-slapped branches
unfurl orchestrated by wind –
How the maple now dangles leaves like earrings
from the tips of the smallest twigs.
Tomorrow they will open
to palm the morning breeze
and welcome the spears of Lilly of the Valley,
as they emerge overnight beneath the mother tree.
The deer have eaten the tender,
green, tongue-rolled, delights of Hosta and Day Lily,
but they are stalwart plants and will return.
I’ve watched and watched but not seen the deer
though I have seen their bedding spots
among the mulch beneath the maple
in the winter and their hoof
prints in the snow.
Today, I will watch
temperatures are rising
and soon there will be
lilacs.
First Published in Latchkey Tales 2014
Written February 22, 2017
Motivation keeps us dream chasing
Those thoughts that you hold dear to your heart
Until the world falls apart from me missing you
These thoughts of you keep me holding onto
This abstract feeling called love
Now paint a pointillist on a rawhide canvas
On a Native American buffalo drum
But I digress to keep the beat going along
Keep it flowing to waterfalls where angels sing
A song to the siren, listen to her lull you to your last breath
So you thought this was an abstraction of love, not death
But you thought wrong 'cause they're one in the same
It's the name of game when the carousel goes round
Watch it go round, round, and round
A radial diametric where the angles bisect
To prototypes and concepts
From the concave to convex
Do you do it for the money and sex
Or for the only dreamers that we've got left
Yeah you know you've gotta give to receive
This abstract feeling called love