The street commenced,
and the unseen oval behind
triggered the turning heads.
The eerie breeze tested
the thin cotton’s hold.
With every careful step ahead,
the sliding eyes roamed.
A sight that stirred
the stillness of cloth
searched for the valley
where the night could lie.
Behind that valley
a trembling heart waited,
counting the steps remaining.
Waves rose and fell
within the restless mind,
reminding her
of the ship
that had once stayed strong.
I am own portal metaphoric lens
walking parable of parables trend
laden chaos and peaceful blue bubbling
laced ecstasy-agony redoubling
tessellated with light-shadow angles
body-mind-soul mirroring time-space prisms
life's stages, stanzaic modalities
matrixed in three dimensional marrows
merkabic, scope's aspiring bolero
translucent metaphoric sombrero
An origin point without a coordinate,
the invisible geometry of presence.
Not an orb, but the spaciousness beneath,
a hollow sphere containing every echo.
Perception unfolding its own infinite map,
where the observer dissolves into the observation.
Neither the movement nor the sudden stillness,
it is the empty interval between the frequencies.
An untethered horizon swallowing the center,
where the concept of a boundary simply collapses.
The pure permeability of merely being,
a mirror reflecting nothing but the silver.
Oh poetry is easy?
Tried now you’ve got anxiety;
Credit us as artists;
With metaphoric plot twists
we can transform reality.
I can eat like a pig,
As well as, drink like a fish.
I can piss like a racehorse,
Or even bark like a dog-.
In my youth, I could run like the wind,
And at times, sting like a bee.
Yet if I float like a butterfly,
I might be driving like ol' granny.
Now if I scream like a schoolgirl,
I might be fearful of an angry God.
But if I whine like a stubborn mule,
I could end up on the wrong end of a cattle-prod.
At times, I show the patience of a saint,
Or being impetuous as a child with new fingerpaint.
And if I continue this way and act like a child,
I'll avoid those aging pitfalls, and run in the wild.
"If you wish to make an apple pie from scratch, you must first invent the universe," ... Carl Sagan
Subtle crafts soundly, using euphemisms,
yet cluelessness dealt a sheltered abyss.
When one confront internal mechanisms,
whatchamacallit ... orphaned hit-or-miss.
A conundrum conspires an endowed soul,
behooves postmortem liken achievement.
Where'er wits helix baptism, buried hole,
an urchin crawlspace, be I foundling sent.
Newborn bid birthright a pardoned envoy,
of mature absence deemed as uncharted.
Internals blueprint designed, bad employ,
indeed, tunnels end--will be lights outed.
Rare conscientiousness temper unknown,
infiltrate hallmark translates as dethrone.
Amid the where’s and when’s and whys
The can’ts and won’ts and whiney sighs
Sit they with pencils as they paint
In words of metaphoric blue
In vain attempt to tightly grasp
The moment as it flashes past
The splendor of the blooming flower
on the lips of the unfurling bud
radiates glamour in the frame of charisma,
suspended on the wall.
I float in the air of fascination
to the magnetic meadow of Mona Lisa,
as the sensuous force enthralling,
unveils time-transcending beauty of woman.
Nothing lies between Eve and you,
when you’re in my vision suffused
with the radiance of rainbow allure,
shimmering with the enigmatic smile.
The spectacular still life icon,
created by the painter supreme,
activates the sense of awe in me
with the perpetual attraction.
The aura of exquisite brilliance exudes
in the masterpiece of superb living art.
The metaphor of her persistent appeal
defines women’s mesmeric magnificence.
____________
May 3, 2023
For A Brian Strand Premiere No, 1213 Contest
The stars are shining brighter
And the wind is flowing free today
Oh my heart is racing faster
Nd my hairs are blown away
The stars, the breeze, the love
It all feels the same ....
And now i come to think of you
And my mind is still awake
I see reds out of blue
This love won't ever fade away
The thoughts, the reds, the love
It all feels the same ....
While I'm your subdue
I'm enchanted by your every way
Of life, of love, of truth
Just like the flowers of May
The way, the may, and love
It all feels the same......
My heart is over brimming
As your love is filling
And there is only one thing
As I'm scared to let you go
This fear, you dear, and love
It all feels the same....
I adorn your flesh in trivial words and heat,
The quartz in each brushwork may deplete.
Ashy blossoms under shattered feet,
In the dusk, inspired by optimization accrete.
Deep-set violet eyes without a discreet,
Reaching clouds that cover your sight beat.
Seeking to deprive the tempo of greet,
Illuminating this obstacle isn't defeat.
When your sight is adequate to compete,
I shall entice you till our bones excrete.
Betrayals occur during the heat of deceit,
Overwhelmed in combustion entreat.
Salt from the sea is in tears and downbeat,
Inhaling every color of poetry may reheat.
I bestow my words to the shells of your feat,
Leaving blurry traces in my vision to meet.
You are safe and muttered during the retreat,
I am inhaling your irrational fear and heat.
Rose petals satiate voids in the heartbeat.
Written: December 04, 2022
Thoughts honed to a razor’s edge
The dictionary and thesaurus be my whetstones
Set atop my stalwart quadrupedal aide
Pulverized hemlocks be my stationary cohort
A hewn cedar be cylindrical partner in rhyme
A sooty viscous slurry be my workmate
The milky sap of the arborist companion be my reviser
Time; unlimited; to be committed to sonnetifcation
Mete by minute or by days…to precompose
To choreograph the mind’s breadth of complexity
To see the inferences…laid out; covertly or overtly
Upon reaching a draft of my pre-thoughts; spelt out
To reave the uncomplicatedness from each line
Leaving nothing unprinted upon the page.
M-etaphoric
E-lement's
L-ines
I-mplement
S-ublimity
S-o
A-crostic
R-egards
A-bate
M-emories
O-f
S-orrow
Topic: Birthday of Melissa B. Ramos (January 17)
Form: Vertical Monocrostic
A string of pearls laden,
Stays bonded...
They are united,
Until broken...
The string be thy peace
And not a crease,
Be there as it might
Lead to a fight...
A deadly feud,
Many are sued,
Lives are gone...
Why now mourn ??
Do not let a scissor
Cut the string of peace
Do not let a trigger
Bring a crease....
Thy be the pearl....
Peace the string,
And the necklace laid out,
On the earth all green.
Literal poetry is my go to gal
Metaphorical poetry is impossible for me.
Metaphors do not come naturally
They are not only difficult
to understand but impossible
to write.
Literal poetry is concrete to me,
Metaphors are abstract.
The only abstracts I want
are in my artwork,
not in my poetry.
For they are not easy.
They are difficult
And I am all about easy.
Metaphoric Girl
By R.e. Taylor
You are the body of perfection
A face without a single flaw
The body of an ancient statue
The heart of a dragon
And the fierceness of a tiger
You also have something magical
Something that only you can have
You have the soul of God’s favorite angel
I know that you are just a person
But to me you are a miracle
A metaphoric dream
And a metaphoric nightmare
A creature to be loved and feared
And I am honored to know you
© 2017 Shadowlight Publishing
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