Eclectic Notions on A Sunbeam
I cannot see inside your mind unless it’s telescopic
On bended knee it rains sublime with the next contentious topic
I’m rendered please into decline as I am incline to stop it
Befriended a line of enchanted rhyme to retreat from the myopic
Auspicious arguments that have no point or vision
Vicious bargains that consort to continue upon their mission
Superstitious monuments that distort the acquisition
Pernicious paradigms for high concept mimes that refute the inquisition
Social intimidation before you’ve even left the house
Perocial lamentations leave you quiet as a mouse
Antisocial inclinations at the introverted house
Precocial salutations that leave me wanting to renounce
Perspectives on the global scene bereft of accuracy or intention
Detectives of the broken dreams wishing upon the next invention
Reflective thoughts before the scream to bequeath an intercession
Eclectic notions on a sunbeam underneath my last confession
The End Copyright Elizabeth Moroz
Predetermined prostitution
Selling out to make it big
Gendered, soulless horrification
Getting greedy to feed the pig
Horrifying landscape changes
Maintenance of status quo
Antagonistic soul estranges
Burning embers afterglow
Disregarded foolish notions
Swept along by blood and greed
Fanciful and dark devotions
Haunt me now until I'm freed
Set my soul for resurrection
Save me from these dire straits
Bounded by a predilection
Tumultuation this creates
Take me now into the darkness
Hold me down until I scream
Fascination with the harkness
Close my eyes until I dream
Disregarded foolish notions
Swept along by blood and greed
Fanciful and dark devotions
Haunt me now until I'm freed
Take me now from this indulgence
Take me to the doors of death
Feed me to the sweet effulgence
As I take my final breath
NOTIONS OF ART
of authenticity
discovered
&replicated
in measures
of the
cognitive
&
authentic
a dichotomy
of liberty
&doubt
aestheticity
of concepts
in
imagination
&
an aura
of style
in an
advent
of
enigmatic
reflections
thought chimes
made real
in random
details
the minute
& absolute
in images
of the
illusory world
NOTE:THIS IS AN OPEN(organic) FORM VERSE using spaces&breaks without grammatical symbols ,the ' open' relies upon 'the one breath limitation' & so inherently requires the 'reader' (reciter) to input and responds thus making this enigmatic form a two way interplay & interpretatIon unique to the moment& changing according to mood is inherently variable.
Copyright © Brian Strand
Random thoughts flutter across a page
And take shape in verses of expression
Reflecting the notions of the poet/sage.
While the actor repeats upon the stage
Phrases acting out playwright’s impression
Random thoughts flutter across a page.
Both painting portraits of love and rage
In concise words, the writer’s profession,
Reflecting the notions of the poet/sage.
Visually the reader will absorb, engage,
Theatergoers easily observe the passion
Random thoughts flutter across a page.
Poets create images like a bird in a cage
Their poems coming in and out of fashion,
Reflecting the notions of the poet/sage.
The value of writers the public will gauge
Sometimes without the proper caution
Random thoughts flutter across a page
Reflecting the notions of the poet/sage.
Written May 13, 2022
#51 on the BEST POEMS LIST
June 12, 2022
NOTIONS OF SPACE
contrasted with
vision of
a private realm
a hidden world
brought
to life
so brightly
lit
sculptural assemblages
so enchantingly
strange
twisted
ideas
not immediately apparent
illumine
rather than stifle
we
glimpse
the future
enshrined
THIS IS AN OPEN(organic) FORM VERSE without grammatical symbols the ' open' relies upon 'the one breath limitation' & so inherently requires the 'reader' (reciter) to input and respond thus making the form a two way interplay and often a unique interpretation by the enigma so derived
Laugh ~ burdens will become half
Frown ~ more muscles bring you down
Cry ~ sorrows flow from your eyes
Smile ~ adds beauty to your style
Stare ~ you're surprised unaware
Hug ~ warm love to keep you snug
11.21.2021
a panorama
of notions
ostentatious
radical
struggles
entanglements
in
the
midst
of convention
without a mask
in garments
of
reality
without a personal
line
yet beauty
aspires
&is
perceived
in womanhood
&
intellect
&
ssympathy
of mind
Sometimes folks get notions,
'Bout certain people, places, things,
And get the wrong impression,
From the feelings that they bring.
Without finding out for certain,
The impression that they got,
Was correct in the beginning,
They go off half cocked.
They hold forever grudges,
Make enemies, lose friends,
And clinging to false sense of pride,
Don't try to make amends.
It's the mind of the human being,
In this case that's to blame,
What goes on in your own mind,
Oft leads to pain and shame.
Some folks are so wrapped up in self,
That they see nothing else.
They never learn from their mistakes;
For they're caused by someone else.
This I've learned from watching,
Taking notes and keeping log.
The more I see of people,
The better I like my dogs.
Ever wonder how often our fleeting thoughts
Swiftly descend unnoticed into the vast abyss
Of grand and worthy notions never realized
Because we did not say I never thought of this.
Ever wonder how successful you might have been
Had you followed through on that revelation
Only later to see it seized upon by another
And you, given it first, had no consolation.
Makes me suspect we do not spend enough time
Pondering the possibilities our brain briefly
Introduces, realizing opportunities we passed
Are proffered and received by someone freely.
With a resonating effect his warm
breath breathes me in
Within his gentle vibrations and
unwavering discipline
Treats me as a goddess taking
note of my equations
Loving my lines never deviating
from my smooth variations
Inspiring my creativity allowing
my determined mission
Leaving apprehensions to be
lost in perfect condition
Flowing with my curves
caressing my contours
Abstract notions becoming
lifelike and obscure
Protecting our heavens celestial
lights from above
Experiencing every emotion in
the name of love
10/24/2020
If I would burn these inks,
Rather keeping it in,
It would be useful to describe our awful deeds.
Tears are untied bundles,
In my face/crawling down my rusty cheek,
Grieves are illustrating it's purpose,
And halt, it's not for me.
Our heads are stocks of unevenness,
Stalking and practising the devil's call,
Positivity we practice not
walking on the sinful aisle.
Realm of horrible things,
We see without fear,
Do without guilt/attempt or keep it in.
Stalked in our heads,
Are nightmares of depravity,
Or maybe not, something beautiful for ourselves.
Our minds are our tombs,
It buries us in silence,
And exposes us with naked and selfish notions.
Gone are the days where a voice can be heard
All messages dissected to find meaning blurred
Someone find offense from any word that is said
And from that offense Their objective is spread
Freedom of speech is a thing of the past
Cancel Culture’s hell bent to ensure it wont last
The snowflakes have spoken and the world now takes heed
The Me-Tooers and naysayers have heard and agreed
If I speak out about anything an attack I’ll elicit
If I keep my mouth shut somehow I’m complicit
So what do you do as one of the damned
The world has gone mad and it seems like its planned
7/23/20
When It’s Time to Pay The Piper
When it’s time to pay that infamous character known as
“The Piper” and then, to face “The Viper” at the end of
one’s life, it shall behoove thee to make sure that thou hast
all of the necessary pleadings and exculpatory notions and
the reasonings at hand, in the hope of a divine intervention
from the angels in Heaven, since “The Viper” by legend
hast that noxious-nasty strike and sting in the Devil’s own
tradition, and both shall bring thee swiftly to the front of
Death’s Door whereby, Death’s immediate and compelling
grip is at once flash-quick and flash-fatal, which is not at all
merciful in the end. One’s immortal soul may be at risk too!
If thy exculpatory and most humble pleadings do meet,
perchance Heaven’s angelic standards, then thy immortal
soul shall be safe and sound in Almighty God’s kingdom.
Deus miseratur. Deus vobiscum.
Amen. Amen.
Gary Bateman, Copyright © All Rights Reserved
December 10, 2018 (Narrative)
I was out a-wandering
when it flew into my head,
a very silly poem,
uninvited, be it said.
If I had just ignored it,
it might have gone away,
but for some mysterious reason
I wrote it down instead
He's just a sewerage worker, he has no fancy notions
He doesn't like his job... he just goes through the motions.
Entry for
Pithy Poem Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Maureen McGreavy
3/11/2019. Placed 2nd.
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