Long Spectrums Poems
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Tale to Tell
It is a well known fact that walking is a very good exercise. So I walk
regular to keep myself fit perfect. One afternoon I was walking on river side
to watch twilight. Outgoing Sun was displaying colourful patterns on evening
sky dispersing rays at random. Splendid spectrums were pasted on sky
album. I was enjoying variable patches of bright hues slowly fading away.
Sun went down kissing sky at horizon.
Twilight bade bye and I started walk back to home.
Darkness covered surroundings very soon. Dusty dusk encompassed.
Evening merged into night. That night was a starry night of No Moon.
But charcoal turquoise sky spread tapestry of twinkling silvery spangles
of stars in gorgeous glamorous mode. My feet were too tired, I wished a
car- lift. I did not stop but was walking leisurely in unmindful steps.
Meanwhile I was attracted with a sudden glow flashing behind.
I chanced to see the headlight of a car approaching towards me not from
very far. I rejoiced. As very often I had noticed that my strong will power
acts sharp and prompt. I wished a car-lift and car is approaching me.
To stop the car, I showed my hand and went road side to wait and stand.
But the car simply ignored me and was moving away without stopping.
Surprisingly the car was in so slow motion, I took the risk and boarded the
car. Sitting comfortably I looked aslant. I got shocked and stunned to see
the seat of the driver lying vacant. Car was going on its own but very
slowly as if a man was walking unwillingly.
10/14/22
Chapter 1 Contest
First Place
Contest by Matt Caliri
perspectives,
&beyond first impressions
moving images
notions,
found objects
refracting light
restless
shifting
silhouettes
incomplete structure
recesses in exteriors
informal
at
scaled
angles
or a
complete whole
nothing visible
pointless to
speculate
the lines of hopelessness
in a
downward
spiral
the emotive aspects
of a sense of place
everchanging
beyond telling
a special time
of intense interest
an intimate presence
unspoken
in a dedicated space
reflective profiles
circles in spectrums
of colour
distinctive
explorations
acquisitions of
legacies
all
motivations
of a
creative influence
upon
the curious heart
They write in the language of perfume
flowery powdered words all layered
colours rising and lowering
in different light spectrums
as if the reader could discern
without wisened translator
their seductive dimensions
conveyed within
their small larger other worlds
notes upon notes, heady notes,
their subtle infractions
like music tinkling through
the brain bleeds, poets
and their otherworldly refrains,
naphthalene aired for old time’s sake
shaken out like clean crisp white sheets
billowing in the translucent lingerie breeze,
bedrocks shaken
the little flocks
small black murders flying
provocatively erratic stirred up
off the cobalt page
into an evocative
higher wider
elusive space
taken shockingly aback
where the heady blast
of Spirit of Hartshorn
shakes buried lover’s awake
to walk barefoot and naked
blindly in love
touching each other
through the long wet days
sugar-coated addictions
tall poppies crimson pimpernels
wading nubile through blades
of silver moon grass
licking their ankles and heels
raising their prim outskirts,
forbidden territories
within the rising mist,
the ever present,
like a breeze,
kisses their ripe
cherry orchards
unending hunger
satiated, all is manna
as they meander
through daze of
dusky dawn valleys
those garden of eden thighs,
the transparent,
slithering like hands
caressing treasure trunks
ivy leaves for plucking
further up above
the high waists
to touch what
wastes away, unheard,
what beats there,
where the crown sits
like some holy being
under its ribbed cage
red ripe like a seeded apple,
that place, just there, beating
singing some kind of hymn,
like a regulated anthem,
they're way up into their feels
like some devilish chase
like heaven's come
calling them away
They write in the language of perfume
flowery powdered words all layered
colours rising and lowering
in different light spectrums
as if the reader could discern
without wisened translator
their seductive dimensions
some things are better
left unsaid
like this Magdalene,
K.I.S.S.
Candide Diderot. ‘24
The forgotten Light lifts us safely up on shady spectrums of unread, bent fragile seraphim wings,
while mourning pulls our waking dreams unravelling like crimson string, life-bleeding toward a forgotten Sun,
poets ruinous and high-strung, spin scattered, fragile stanzas out of darkness facing the undying lores of Love.
Terraforming nightmares into hope, outside mourning we poets watch the ever-rising sun
redefining the darkness that once rested on each quill of our ceaseless moving, broken blackbird wings;
for every turning leaf, a new page sprouts green halos in the eternal name of Love.
We mortal poets must dream until the mourning breaks crystal clear into the realm of Love,
and tidal pools where treasures lie unseen, launch golden dragonflies on freshly gifted omen wings
to bear the burning truth of a forgotten life full-lived, imprinted by a quiet timeless sun.
Don't you know we must lose our wings to stand like mortals unlike Gods,
to gather hidden pearls of Love beneath a forgotten Sun?
Candide Diderot. ‘26
(18th Sept 2026)
happy birthday...
"I was told if I fell in love with a poet
I would become immortal,
so I decided to become the POET
and make all those who touched my soul,
eternal."
(M. Lee)
Contemporary Tritina.
Non-reflective and absorbing all light,
black is not a color: it is a shade.
And it is perceived by our sense of sight,
as grey gradients of varying grade.
White's all the visible spectrum combined,
and thus, the absence of pigments in paint.
You can't describe color to one born blind,
to those without sight; that notion seems quaint.
It's true; color doesn't include black or white:
mixed wavelengths causing visual mayhem.
Black and white are scrambled spectrums of light:
At least, that is how physics describes them.
Though both black and white are tethered to light:
They're as different as day is to night.
In the corner there...
Under the defused lights,
With spectral highlight’s here,
There, they float near and afar.
An apple sits in its technicolor glory,
It's not fully red or crimson or scarlet
Greens of sage and emerald
Dances in its hues,
Corruption is setting in as time passes
under these searing spots
as rot comes like a little death
spreading to the rest,
The rust of fruits oranges,
nectarines, bundles are of berries,
sliced in aromatic spice,
bloody droplets of cherry’s puddle,
next to a crystal chalice
of fine facets and filigrees
cut to trap light, to express
spectrums of color glitter and refract,
Standing starkly next
to the draped sacred rosary
and the sweet-fruited flesh.
Dust comes to rest
A raven of stately lorn,
blue on to black night into
nocturnal feathers bore
eyes deep as ink wells so black, onyx
dipping into hues blue in the reflect.
A haunting vestige that knows breath, nevermore!
Amidst the abstract, crowded
silent room linger
Still, stranger odd ornate objects gather...
from oblivion's shores.
A compass of intricate design,
sextons of aged patina brass,
Crack mirrors and mercury glass.
Mechanisms fine-tuned for sailors
to chart uncharted seas where “there be dragons”.
Deep, driven is the shaft of daggers hilted blade
Casts its long crucifixes shadow
Here on books of quaint and forgot lore
Tomes of cryptic grimoires,
archaic mysteries, ill-begotten biographies,
Black Bibles of some unknown deity...
Or leather-bound abominations
found in the depths of god-forsaken tombs.
Stacked like sand blown Persian Ziggurats.
To were a white horror stares
bleached bone and hollowed sockets glare
it grins sinisterly but it's harmless if you dare
But why would you care
Around this still life of oddities
Things found a life lived out fast
Hallmarks of someone long
forgotten history left in this corner
under these lights for someone
to render in all details
of its fading glories
Life is still at last.
Suites of expression creep along the chasms of existence
gnashing and clawing, the ineptitudes persevere for glory
take the high road, end up on the low road just because
you couldn’t remind your self the story was simply not true
caught in the corner, webs of lies disseminating from your lips
denial of the ritualistic behaviors known forever more as you
prisons of silence, spectrums of all colors make the inane pretty
dressed up and no place to go except the free way, only the free way
has toll roads these days...hijacked for existence, held hostage by self
there’s no where to go where the truth doesn’t actually matter
forget about the truth...not the Truth...just your truth because you
ran out of that road a long while ago...deni–I– all over and under
weeping a moment until drought reached your heart
your persistence amazes me...dogged persistence is what I call it
rumors of dead things walking through the night separate you from
the life you intend to live...surround yourself by pretensions of something
other than you...feel better...look better...live longer...live stronger...
fragile is the flower opening in the storm...watch out for lightning!
I'm searching
deep, into the abyss of silence
where the eye for detail is sharply seen
keen from this plateau, and giving no edge
to spectrums spilling out
shattering the ice, of a winter-white canvas
where the views may be cold
yet, bold with reaction
Spliced are the colors that stretch out before me
according to shades
red joined to red
blue joined to blue
some which have tangled
mixing the hues
changing the views
from where I once stood
wedged deep in the canyons
eyes drawn to the sky
where the paint flies like a comet
with no place to call home
A view of the ordinary
becomes the exception
my eyes ever arching
to reach for the stars
Someone's hand held a brush
every stroke without thought
just an act of releasing
by far, without reason
where seasons are changed
and strange as it seems
spring blossoms no green
fall sheds not a leaf
sun darkens the summer
and somewhere is winter
For what has no reason
my eyes want to seize
eyes want to see seasons that I've never known
watching it snow, with colors of gold
watching the rain, return to the clouds
Unleashing control.....and letting it go
_________________________________________
Submitted to the Contest: "What is The Perfect Painting?"
5/22/14
Have been accused that the splendor of love has my praise,
constant change and its stimulation for the awaken days.
The longing, the calm, the touch and its astonishment,
illimitable desires, its creative expression and still content.
The many excuses and fears to cheat despair,
to know the madness to take the motion to bear.
Promised eternal love to cross that dark of life,
lovers eyes speak in that voluptuous light of strife.
Remembered potion of my beam in constellation,
embracing souls and glowing emancipation.
Immortal praise for all tenderness is given,
the inenarrable senses all driven.
The queen of love beaconed in dreamer’s nights,
cause of attraction’s magnificence.
Celestial loyalties in timeless sphere,
soothing away the troubles everywhere.
Holding the bond that made love to trust,
sacramental echoes of stardust.
Awake above the ego’s cry without doubt,
redeeming will humble allowed.
My waning intemperate indulgence not to blame,
unsheathed reality for the constant new again.
Possessions through the act of memory,
spectrums in light of progressive immortality.
Biochemistry—the chemistry of life’s design,
Where molecules dance, interlink, and align,
A bridge between cells, atoms, and earth,
Defining each process, from death to birth.
From cells to tissues, to systems whole,
Biochemistry reveals life’s molecular role.
Atoms join with bonds of varied might—
Covalent, ionic, in complex rite.
Molecular structures, their shapes decide,
How functions emerge and systems collide.
Water, polar and bound by bonds unseen,
Becomes life’s solvent and essential scene.
Carbohydrates fuel, in branching chains,
While proteins give shape, structure, and gains.
Lipids form membranes, barriers and walls,
And nucleic acids hold life's codes, small but tall.
Each plays its part, in pathways intertwined,
The building blocks of life, so meticulously designed.
Catabolism breaks, releasing life’s spark,
Anabolism builds, leaving nature's mark.
Glycolysis starts, the fuel we ignite,
The citric cycle follows, energy in sight.
ATP fuels the cells’ endless demands,
In bioenergetic chains, life expands.
The enzymes, catalysts that spark each course,
Signal transductions, relay with molecular force.
Channels open, gates control flow,
Compartmented spaces, with roles to show.
Each process precise, a well-ordered dance,
In the cell’s intricate, coordinated trance.
DNA spirals, a double helix of code,
Blueprints of life in sequences bestowed,
Transcription to RNA, a message to read,
Translation to proteins, each cell’s vital creed.
Genes regulated, expressions controlled,
A symphony of life meticulously told.
With spectrums and gels, we separate, define,
Electrophoresis’ bands, chromatogram’s line,
PCR amplifies genes to explore,
CRISPR edits, opens new doors.
These tools unearth life’s secrets concealed,
In every lab, mysteries revealed.
From medicine’s cures to agricultural yields,
Biochemistry stretches across modern fields.
Personalized treatments, precision designed,
Green tech and ethics, the future aligned.
At life’s smallest scale, in molecules profound,
The promise of science and progress is found.