Long Sculpturing Poems
Long Sculpturing Poems. Below are the most popular long Sculpturing by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Sculpturing poems by poem length and keyword.
The writers of vers libre follow no structure,
it begins with an image in their head;
words imagining a picture,
and soon the creating will spread;
but it is not about telling a rambling story.
Yes, I am guilty of that- sorry,
it is fragmented lines- pauses to make us ponder with eyes starry;
yet, giving us some fury.
It is like painting or sculpturing a piece of art,
and finding words and stray phrases that touch the heart;
words wailing and whispering from the start till they depart,
like water slipping over stone;
that rest in their truth and whimper from the bone,
of dead and forgotten things that moan.
Write of shadows moving among us in the haze,
and like water flowing into a vase let thoughts fall;
words are like a mighty tree found in a maze.
and with vers libre one can utterly amaze or hit a stone wall.
Oh poets, just pick up your bleeding pen,
and wail a vers libre- create a shade of emotion gem;
I remind you- this writing of poetry is not a pastime but an art, amen.
(Or write a rhyming poem, like I did in the end.)
___________________________
November 25, 2018
Poetry/Rhyne/My Rant and Theory of Vers Libre
Copyright Protected, ID 18-1088-752-0
All Rights Reserved. Written under Pseudonym.
Written for the contest, Let 'Er' Rip #2
sponsor, John Lawless
Fourth Place
Storetry
(A story in rhyme)
By Franklin Price
5/14/2016
Storetry, a word I've coined
At least I think it's mine
The following's my first one
I hope you think it's fine
For years writers have written
Myriad poems that tell a tale
So many of them classics
From poets that we hail
Of war and travel, love and loss
Many subjects quite diverse
Many are novelistic
While others are quite terse
Many people of the world
Scandinavian, Latin, Greek
Have written their own Storetries
Take an interest, take a peek
There's something about poetry
That supersedes all prose
The rhyming, rhythm of the words
To take us where it goes
Weaving, painting, sculpturing
The phrases one by one
To make some sense and sound alike
Is interesting and fun
I'm ending now this Storetry
It is the first from me
I'm sure there's more to come along
You'll just have to wait to see
The day dawns on flaming sunburst sky,
gold-gilded wispy clouds glide slowly by,
spectrum of color on azure sea they pour,
silver lined waves spread pearls on shore.
Down the jade valley leaps the sparkling stream,
sculpturing rock ridge serenading in daydream,
dancing waters murmur on polished pebbles rolling,
listen to the distant music of verdant plains calling.
Seasons revolve in kaleidoscopic sublime spell,
draped in magnetic charm of nature unparallel.
The ember of autumn falls rustling on the meadow,
out of the winter frost buds bloom with surreal glow.
Sun from cyan sky shines on emerald forest canopy,
light and shade strips saunter by whispering tree.
Night falls silent sprinkling stardust on the thicket,
fireflies twinkle with the rhythmic chirp of cricket.
Supine spirit soars high with nature’s ethereal show,
on supernal stream of joy unbridled emotions flow.
The beautiful gift mankind received from the creator
floats on ripples of rapture on the tapestry of nature.
July 14, 2019
For Contest Finetune This Collaboration
Sponsored by Line Gauthier
Watching snowflakes settle
into a large earthenware pot,
frozen fractals grow.
The snow is ridged into serpentine shapes
and the humped backs of deep sea monsters.
Bobbled ice forms dimple and peak.
Is this a strange art, a contouring
or a sculpturing that takes form
by the act of watching?
Why is it not the snow
deep and crisp and even?
If you stare at a cat
it will look away, wash its paws.
that’s called ‘displacement behavior’.
People are not much different.
There’s a force behind a concentrated stare.
Cats know something about watching snowflakes.
You have to respect that kind of power.
Jack Frost, power over ice and snow
Appearing like a sinister mischief maker
Cold winter frosty, fern-like patterns you make on our close windows
Kissing the earth with your bitter brrr cold frolic, making our teeth chatter
Frost, ice, and snow you stir to life as your music is
Responsible for the shivers your frosty weather brings with each dance step you take
Obliging us with your artistic talent painting foliage red, yellow, brown, and orange
Sculpturing a dazzling, frozen, seductive wonderland of snow
Tantalizing us to retire around the radiant amber, warm crackling fire
11/27/2015
Poetry Contest Acrostic: Jack Frost
Sponsored by: Shadow Hamilton
SUNFLOWERS AND THE BUDDHA JAZZ LIGHT
Inner peace, mindfulness, compassion, word sculpturing, and the painting of visual jazz word speak
Ingredients to make your soul Buddha talk/
Herbie Hancock, Charles Lloyd, the Beat poets/
notably Jack Kerouac, Allen Ginsberg, and Gary Snyder, the Dharma Bums, Eastern philosophy/
The Beats were heavily influenced by Zen Buddhism, focusing on direct experience, meditation,
and the transcendence of structured thought/
Some jazz musicians of the 1950's fused the spontaneous energy of bebop jazz with the philosophical tenets of Buddhism/
The spontaneity of Charlie "Bird" Parker's playing merged with Buddhist notions of the "void" or "shunyata," where the improviser
pierces through the silence/
Buddha's breath in petals bright, whispers of mindful light, interconnected, yet free from grasp. a dance of seeds in a cosmic clasp/
Sowing happiness, in the earth's embrace, manifestation's gentle trace, yet in the void, where silence lies, non-existence softly flies/
Modern art, a visual jazz, words sculpted like spiritual pizzazz, inner peace to Eddie Gale,
Compassion spun, a tapestry of the soul begun/
Herbie's keys, a sacred tune, Charlie's sax, a fleeting moon, the Beat poet's rhythmic breath, Zen's deep silence beneath the depth/
Spontaneous, raw, unbound, in the void's embrace, profound, where improvisational jazz is born anew/
Sunflowers and the Jazz Buddha, in harmony's dance, a sacred union of chance and meditative trance/
In every seed, a universe, in every breath, the universe's verse
As far as the eye can see, thunder roars with such fury in the horizon.
Beneath the sea sculpturing deep tints and shades of blue, briny crystallizing.
The tide draws away and breathes its curse.
Articulating its exaltation moving force,
manifesting and mesmerizing.
Bout gaits end with the striking off sound.
Airborne when all four are off the ground.
Breeze laced through his mane with pride.
Feeling the cold embrace, he draws a breath with every stride.
As the rain caress, fire burns inside, free its soul bound.
7/20/2016
Rhyme AABBA AABBA
Two Stanzas - Two Only - Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Broken Wings