Mica Poems | Examples

Rhythm of the River

Rolling with the "R's" Sponsor: Nette Onclaud 8-4-25  Title Chosen: Rhythm of the River
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                                       Rhythm of the River
   
                                                  River
                                            Rhythms boogie
                                       Rollick in white waters
                                  Ebbs then flows around mica rocks
                               That sparkle with alluring   fool's   gold
                                  Arabesques  over   waterfalls
                                       Tumbling mists ~ lacy veils
                                            Pulsing ~ dancing
                                                  River

Problems in Choosing

between cow or goat
I would choose goat
loving my horns
using them to toss away my enemies

between tree or rock
I would have a problem
I love them both
especially cottonwoods and mica

between life and death
I would choose life
because I believe death is really more life
just a better one

between kitchen and bathroom
I would choose kitchen
cinnamon rolls, mashed potatoes,
chili, meat loaf and pancakes

between man or woman
I would have another problem
I like bits of both of them
feel we have been both in different lifetimes

Nickle plated oboes

Red Slime: must you disguise your worth
aren't you treasure
which Mica and quarts
sand and gold
Aren't you tresure
that a torch should solitify
you into a crystalized anomlly
aren't as much tresure as gold itself
nitrate and phosfate
the seperation of a wayer soaked claim
Mica Schits introduced me to
the Grayish Gold ore one desires
Ultramatic, tuff the stones of a sandy
panning area
Feldspar! Feldspar and Garnet!
then were are your tresures

Mr. Mica Schits Feldspar
Ore Miss
Mica Schits Feldspar

- Bite the Bullet -

Exhaust filled alleyways cracked and torn
                            the wide green parks frail and worn
                      The factories spew out toxins day and night
                     winding through the air and blinding my sight
                          Paint me a picture of petals on flowers
                       as childhood mica and the glory was ours



14.05.2023
Anne-Lise Andresen
Copyright © All Rights Reserved

Tiny Particles of Ice

A nasty cold drizzle settles in soon after dark
Turning our street into a dazzling streak,
Sparkling like diamonds under a neon spark
Now the temperature is dropping, as I speak.

Turning our street into a dazzling streak
Of mica reflections, soon tiny particles of ice,
Now the temperature is dropping, as I speak
Only those who love winter will think it nice.

Of mica reflections, soon tiny particles of ice
Will turn the pavement into sheets of glass
Only those who love winter will think it nice,
I utter a prayer that this, too, will quickly pass.

Will turn the pavement into sheets of glass
Sometime during the early morning hours,
I utter a prayer that this, too, will quickly pass
As my normal happy-go-lucky disposition sours.

Sometime during the early morning hours
Sparkling like diamonds under a neon spark
As my normal happy-go-lucky disposition sours
A nasty cold drizzle settles in soon after dark. 

Written October 26, 2022

Which One Came From Tennessee

We have traveled to thirty-seven states, the youngster told me.
He is only eight, so this is quite the accomplishment.
I collect one rock from each state, want to see them?
His mother rolls her eyes, as if it is no big deal.
It is a big deal to me; I am also a rock collector.
Sure!

He takes me into his room and pulls a box out from under his bed.
I imagine mica, feldspar, gypsum, glitters of bloodstone and the like.
He opens the lid. The rocks are gray, chalky, and gravel.
“Which one came from Tennessee?” I ask him.
He says “I have absolutely no idea, but aren’t they amazing?”
I think I’ll get him a bag of gravel for his birthday.

Nymph From Exodus

Are we less superior to ourselves than realization?
Our temporary shell, our salt, our generation.
Our streamers flutter like snow in Antarctica.
longing and valid expansion, made of mica.

Striving to liberate us, it rips apart its body.
Once again, envisaging us embody.
Systole, diastole, adventure indiscriminately.
The wide open oozes a scent of love imminently.

Shimmering between each of the drumbeats.
Summer, you are the windlessness of such feats.
We ate, kissed, cuddled, and then supped food.
A day's total is a unit of measure for what you lewd.

Need and desire exist in an interdependent reality.
We bury our bodies as a sign of our mortality.
The fate of our remains while wearing the shell
The land utters us the title of a spare body smell.

Synapses are memories, and we are waiting.
In order to cross its boundary, there is no gating.

Written: August 09, 2022

Climbers

Rugged cliffs against the mountain face
Shown rising from the morning’s mists,
Silvery tan like discarded slate sparkling
Residue of mica in the mineral-rich stone.
Climbers shinny up the mountain face
Slowly, cautiously moving toward a goal,
The summit beckoning to a victory won
Breathless and weary they upward climb. 

written March 20, 2022

Speaking To the Forest Creatures

What are you looking for? This voice was cracking.
I looked up to see two crows. Which one had spoken?
I am searching for mica, I told them. It’s found in granite.
Is it sparkly? They looked interested.
I nodded, and they hopped around in the water, helping me look.

Next I stumbled upon a fawn, hidden in a glade, under a fallen oak.
How are you? I asked her. She was trembling too hard to speak.
A rabbit who had been guarding her hopped over to say
“nothing to see here,” so I moved on.

The forest is interesting when you cannot speak the language,
but when you can, it opens up new possibilities.
An aggressive wolf spoke to me next.
“I am going to howl tonight like you have never heard before."
I have no idea why he told me that,
maybe because I am a rival howler at night?

She Comes Out Smelling Like Rain

Washed the roundish rock off in the pond.
Metallic sizzle smell came from her center.
Reminding me of a sauna’s fragrance.

Mica and feldspar glinted under the water.
I lift her out and sense a metallic scent.
Instantly visualizing iron on a rainy day.

Memories flood my brain
Other rocks collected and cherished
Thrown out by a prissy mother

Another treasure! I dunk her into the gentle water.
Next to miniscule minnows
She comes out smelling like rain.

I Am a Chameleon

I am an enthusiastic rainbow chameleon
until I am a cumbersome ox
Wait! Hold up! Stop!
I meant I am a excited spotted lizard

mercurial and fast moving
I slide from granite rock to mica rock
slithering in wetness, shaking my rattlers
Watch out world! I am dangerous!

I find myself flying high in the azure sky
with heart and confidence of the American bald eagle
you had better not shoot me, Arkansas!
There is a ten thousand dollar fine, you know

In but minutes I fall from the peace of the clouds,
landing in refreshingly cool lake water
I swim around in here, with the joy of a golden retriever
finding some natural springs

life is an adventure, and I mean to taste it all
You cannot catch me. I’m the gingerbread man.
Warm and hot from the oven.
Sliding down the hill in a white rabbit lined parka.

I live my truth, spouting it into my art and my poems.
I remember when I found myself; I was twenty-eight. 
I knew the only opinion that mattered any more was my own.
Most freeing moment of my life!

A Natural Gift

I took a nice walk
And found a beautiful rock
Silver mica shines
on gray patches, cream color
Gift from the side of the road

Heidi Sands

9/7/21

Icy Cavern Cliff

cavernously eerie
echoes long dead
frosted over and irritated

grating silence
cold as ice 
unforgiving, unyielding, just un…..

woods feels disapproved,
disrespected, unappreciated
rock solid hush dispels possibilities

slate and shale
hiding teensy glimmers of mica
shining like her ice heart

cavern rules 
showing a presence
that scares many

Sun Instigates a New Day

Warm sunlight saturated the meadow, lavishly spreading herself as far as she could.
The day was waking up slowly, sleepily. She could see the reluctant silent livestock.
An ambiance of country met her as she gentled the farm awake to the woods.
She glistened off the leaves, the dew of the grass, and flecks of mica in a petrified rock.

Farmer was the first one to emerge from the house, he headed straight for the barn.
Sun knew his wife would be in the house, getting breakfast ready; she smelled bacon.
She would add this to her monthly tales she always told to the east in a yarn.
This feeling of silence and reverence of new daybreak always had sun a tiny bit shaken.

The chickens came out from the barn squawking and gawking; this made her smile.
The harsh sounds they made sounded frantic; they were kind of frightful.
She shone her sun streams a bit further, they were now showing their radiant guile.
Sun loved being the inspiration and instigator making a new day delightful.

Sharla Feels Pretty Today

Sharla feels pretty today, dainty and girly.
Her pink dress is new, it has a built in petticoat.
The bodice is lined, and her tanned shoulders like it.
She feels as close to beautiful as she ever has.

“Do you want to wait until after breakfast?” Grandma asks.
“No, I want to do it now, when the sun is coming up.”
“Take some flowers then.”
Sharla stops by the garden and plucks half a dozen tulips.

They are pink like her dress; wet from the dew.
She is excited as she comes up the hill of the meadow.
It is a gorgeous day; the sun is outstanding.
May fifteenth, Grandpa Dick’s birthday!

“Happy birthday Grandpa,” she says.
The sun sparkles on his tombstone. 
The mica in it shimmers.
She feels him watching her, and she smiles.

A slight breeze lifts her hair a bit.
She hears his voice in her head.
“You have a gorgeous heart!”
She will never forget that.

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