#1
Wandering into moonglow of years
I recall Grandma's voice lilting
With stories aged by time --
Musings fade now on cushions
Till she rockabyes no more
Image 1.
As platinum clouds drift by,
sea breeze in early evening,
kisses ripples on incoming tide.
Dusk's sun reflects upon veranda,
as nanna's armchair rocks gently.
"Paint A Picture”
Sponsor, Joseph May
Five lines- Five words per line
Image : 1
The vacant chair in patio
And the fathomless tranquil flow
Stand for life and soul
To convince life is ephemeral
And the soul is eternal.
Placed: 3rd
In your vintage gold design
you lay in brilliant elegance-
a memory of our yesteryear
held in the highest esteem;
words flew through the air.
Image 4
Paint a picture of a mountain scene with colors of autumn a glow
Paint in white, the highest peak, first of a winter snow
Then somewhere in the distance, the hint of a waterfall,
let it cascade down into a little creek, on the bank, a rotting log
Let the leaves fall from the trees in shades of gold and red
The wisp of a cloud up high and paint an eagle over head
Paint the shimmer of reflection in the quiet shade of a pool,
The ripple of a brook- trout, as it looks for a minnow school
Then paint the rays of the sun, as they steal through limbs of black and brown
Creating little spots of shade that play with leaves on the ground
Down at the bottom, sign your name with pride for all to see
For you are to paint God’s Creation, what an honor that will be
crystal white dew
on
pink apple
leaf
glitters golden
in morning rays
of sunlight
Written 20/09/2020
1st placement
Joseph May
‘Paint a picture’ 7 line poetry contest
The Dancer and the Duende
Red skirt! Lithe body! She dances!
Flagging voluminous curtains of crimson,
daring the Duende to charge ---
she catches
his face,
his beard,
his breath;
stealing its petals with her teeth, she spins!
Dared to take it back,
he comes,
seizing the dusk with both hands,
for tomorrow,
the hibiscus in her hair will be dead.
Poems that Paint a Picture 3, contest
9-22-2017
The Old Stones and the Finch
Gravestones are made of granite;
I guess to hide the dirt,
so people don't have to come as much
to clean them.
I hate you're down there
in a vault of cement.
I want to take a jackhammer
and set you free!
See how the old stones are not crisp?
How the rain tries to free them?
How it liberates their minerals into the soil?
How they pass on as berries to the birds?
See how the finch is forever chasing Spring and Summer?
How far it follows the wind? How each year it returns with new songs from somewhere we've never been?
This is the end I want for you;
singing on a bright branch;
not waiting your turn for heaven.
Poems that paint a picture 2, contest
9-18-2017
STILL LIFE
flowers for a friend,
he still holds.
a silent pause.
holding his breath.
he stares at the cold
gray stone,
as if, it was all alone.
his eyes are numb,
no tears yet flow.
heart squeezes tight,
remembering this young man
he grew up with.
tortured by his friend’s descent
into the demonic control of heroin,
and how he pushed him away.
~
but in the end he cried for help,
strapped to a medical table,
unable to open his eyes,
surprised by the prayer -
so loving...so kind.
~
his friend lost his fight for life,
too far buried beneath his infirmity,
his body could not survive.
but he prays that his friend’s soul
found solace, at last,
unfettered from the flesh.
he finally lays the flowers down
on bended knee, tear drops fall
upon the grass, and walks away.
9/16/2017
Poems That Paint A Picture - 2 Contest
A woman of intrigue behind his imagination
Peeking boldly through painter's hesitation
Living through ages of welcome admiration
Intended as a beautiful but stealth creation
Partial facial view subject to interpretation
Peeking boldly through painter's hesitation
Slender fingers point green eyes wide open
Clasped hands invite curious speculation
Partial facial view subject to interpretation
Thoughts penetrate seeking affirmation
Mosaic colors manifest a silent celebration
Clasped hands invite curious speculation
A solemn beauty of colorful coordination
Her posture speaks of creative aspiration
Mosaic colors manifest a silent celebration
She is alive beaming an artistic explanation
A woman of intrigue behind his imagination
Her posture speaks of creative aspiration
Living through ages of welcome admiration
Placed First
September 6, 2017
Poems that paint a picture
Sponsor: Silent One
Paint, splattered. Embarrassed, ashamed
Textured canvas, screams in vain
Black ink, bled through
Joining shades of green and blue
Fingers, dipped, in apple red
Post protection, words said
Paper portrait with prisoned eyes
Trapped in time, but still alive
A look of terror, surrounded by paint
Wants free, but can't escape
Whoever the artist happened to be
He cared for his work, intimately
Hairline strokes, above her brow
For his audience, he endowed
An honest moment, expression, raw
He told a story of what he saw
He paints a picture of the mountains,
And he sings his songs with love,
He caresses my soul and woes me with his music,
I love his sound and his appearance is loving and kind,
His friends are a blessing to be with,
I have never encountered the ability to learn this beautifully,
A dream from God, a handsome prince from Austria,
To walk the mountains with him, majestic and godly,
Rugged and strong, god's paintbrush regal,
The chalet a place called home, his beloved companion by his side,
He has a very hugable and friendly dog,
That accompanies him everywhere,
God's paintbrush portrays friendship and companionship.
Author: Gwen von Erlach Schutz
your mind
is the sign
to picture combind
jit look into
tell you what to do
its could be fiction
PANIT A PICTURE
Sparkles glisten off a misty shoreline
Light reflects off a history of tales never to be told
It cannot speak nor can it share the thoughts of a thousand years
Miles and layers of ash, rubble, and lifeless pieces to an unsolved puzzle lay beneath
Few will share the days with Giants and Legends
But thousands will wonder why
A dark layer of secrets, a dark layers of emotions encapsulated
By a barrier never to be broken
We can only look and dream of what took place
To look to the world searching for Absolutions
Searching for answers
Searching for a key to unlock the gated door
Impossible to reason yet we glide along with the tide
Creating more stories never to be told
Only she holds the answers, Only she holds the key…
A mystery will forever remain and cast a shadow over the lost souls
That took the journey over miles of beauty
For now we can only paint a picture that shares with us a thousand words
Never to be understood…
Paint a picture with your mind
Dust out your cluttered head
Close the outer eye and open
Imagination’s keenest eye within
See now grassy hills that rise and fall
See the crisp blue stream that winds along
Now the downy clouds reflected in
The water far below its floating waves
Hear the sparrow as he trills his song
Crisply over lofty trees of fir
Listen as the brook sings back the tune
Of sparrow’s joyous song of sweet refrain
Never would one be alone if when
Creativity takes him such a place
He could see and hear and touch and taste
The joys which offered elsewhere can be his
If only in his mind’s eye, he can go
Locations that his fancied thoughts would fly
Nowhere is beyond limit for him,
Whose inventions take such grandiose flight
(This is a re-post)
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