Repeated explanations shutter,
lights crawls through,
storing, and new glass encompasses over years.
Reds first flood into pink,
which bleeds into the silky handiwork of the toy maker,
a testament of effort and a drag in the dirt where wrists ache.
Chapters sculpt where lessons are learnt.
Green sidelines uniform greys where improvement and deterioration mean the same thing.
White pools where words were suspended and boiled to molten.
Blue hope swirls actively amongst it all, the promise of a fly’s infatuation to embrace the inside of a shell.
Colour explodes and light fractures through once saturated,
No matter an attempt at dignity, it bleeds through in a ray of illness all the same, shaking fingers glow a pink hue.
“I told you I was sick” echoed in the mind and it reverberates in the glass,
reds shine through upon reflection from blue, green and orange.
The image it makes stark against the atmosphere’s ivory.
The patterns stain all that the eyes drink with the pressing distant promise of return.
Fractal Fluidity-:-
paisley
patterns
infinite
geometric
recursion
in a FLOWING STATE OF MIND
inner
mandalas
symmetry
mindful
moment
entering ZENTANGLE ZONE
evolution
formation
surrounds
sensory
soother
Grand apparel of pretty girls
Embroidered in floral designs
The embellished stones shine like pearls
On the edges of the hemlines
Alignment of the hand and eye
Handling the needle with much bent
Sequins added to beautify
Bring elegance to the event
An intricately crafted art
Perfectly fit as ethnic wear
With angelic charm, girls look smart
While prancing with a lot of flair
Tokens of happy maidens' dreams
Rich hues represent their new lives
Sparkle due to fallen light beams
Unique ancient pattern archives
Place: 8 th
Nature’s patterns repeat—they’re alive,
From meandering rivers and butterfly wings,
To zebra stripes and the leopard’s spots—
Patterns appear wherever you look.
Now don’t be deceived—nature has its tricks,
Some patterns shift; it’s a survival instinct.
Take the tide, drawn by the pull of the moon—
No wave reaches shore in quite the same place.
The spider’s web, so delicate and thin,
Its shape shifts when dew settles in.
A snowflake, formed in sixfold symmetry,
Yet no two snowflakes are ever the same.
Tessellating hexagons in hives and mud—
From wax and honey, the patterns take form.
That rainbow up high, with its coloured light,
Shifts and changes with the place you stand.
There are countless more patterns to find,
From grains of sand to lightning on high—
Don’t forget the spiralling sunflower seeds:
Nature’s patterns shift in plain sight.
Marigolds fair as doilied silk
Woven on trails of summer trees
Patterns flick like confetti blown ,
And splatter along huffs of breezé
How petals dance in rhythmic sails
To gather 'round marbles and clay -
A montage waking dawn's embrace
With imprints of floral display.
And basking through a dusky lane
Golden laced pinpoints blend with night ;
When blossoms rise beneath clouds' glide
Their patchwork... a nature's delight!
If I were a prophet or seer,
I would see tomorrow or beyond.
And if what I saw never came to be,
I would then look silly and stand alone.
Can I impact today and somehow
Influence tomorrow as it relates
To me and what I do today?
Yesterday is gone.
Nothing changes yesterday.
But in looking back through
The rear veiws of my memory,
I see patterns that were blind to me
During the yesterdays of my life.
These life patterns speak volumes
To me presently that I did not hear
In my yesterdays. These were puzzles
Whose pieces I never fitted.
If those patterns, puzzles, and pieces
Were as real to me then as they are now,
How would my life be different presently?
How would . . . ?
A whisper of the falling rains
Scripts a pattern etched on the panes;
The ocean's tidal ebb and flow
Carve a design that ever glow.
The gentle sway of summer grass,
As fleeting winds serenely pass,
Slices shapes with a silken art,
A tiny, intricate, true heart.
The stars above, in silent flight,
Are set in patterns of the night,
The constellations, old and grand,
A story told across the land.
The pulsing beat within our chest,
A steady pattern put to test,
The breath we draw, the air we share,
A silent promise in the air.
So let`s learn patterns from nature
To carve diverse shapes and structure;
In every moment, small or great,
We find our truth, we seal our fate.
Look, with what amazing artistry,
God has painted the tiger and the zebra.
In zig zag alignment, in a neat pattern,
Not complex as the design on the hood of a cobra.
How different they are, yet how similar!
No human hand can craft such an art work.
Like streams, their lines glisten in wilderness.
Strangely they are visible even in the dark.
In flaming colors of black and white,
On a zebra, the lines run in a neat stripe.
No two lines are quite the same.
Neither animal, a replica of the other type.
Through different tracks, they roam.
One reminds us of day and night.
The other, of dusk and golden morn.
Both wear coats of fur in stripes so bright.
Their streaks, a lovely script God has penned
These bands of white and black tend,
To tell aloud that opposites can thrive,
And beauty is born where contrasts blend.
A gentle turn,
changing colors, altering pattern
greet you sparkling, fill your transfixed eye.
You can’t resist looking through it even if you try.
A gentle move,
changing designs, swinging groove
enchant you from within, entice your heart.
You can’t stop seeing even if anew you’ve to start.
A gentle twist,
changing motifs, shifting wish-list
enrich visual experience, longing favors.
You don’t pause trying even if the mind wavers.
A gentle jerk,
changing vista, intricate framework
transform you, uplift your listless life.
You can’t stop watching even in times of strife.
A gentle tap,
changing shapes, alluring life map
morph the mind, create colored hope.
You can’t desist looking in the kaleidoscope.
Hard-etched frozen windowpanes
never two adorned the same.
Soft morning light filters through
setting jeweled fronds aflame.
Bitterly cold arctic winds
blustered around overnight,
spattering frigid patterns,
ornate brush strokes of delight.
A silver sylvan forest
where fairies carouse and dance
beneath bright crystal fern flags,
an impromptu frost romance.
Sharp icy fingers crackle,
poking downward from the eaves;
a short few hours of magic
then the glory melts and leaves.
July 16, 2026
For Pattern Poetry Contest
Sara Kendrick, Sponsor
Mother Nature hums a tune and sits.
While her children play, she calmly knits.
As the planets go round and round,
and the eons pass to her gentle sound,
she rocks, everlasting and immutable,
weaving patterns that are beautiful.
She knits ripples on the lakes,
the hexagons on cold snowflakes,
the spirals in sunflowers and the nautilus,
for you and I, and for all of us.
In the desert, under the big sky,
she puts cracks in clay, now dry.
With her leopard, she's so besotted,
she gives him a coat that's spotted.
Here's a game that you can play -
look around, when you're out today.
Find a pattern our mother has made
as she adorns the grand parade.
chain by chain
in generation's pattern
of lives past
we wait
&
wait in line
repeating
mistakes
treading
the same circle
imagining
progress is reality
“Domestic violence often follows a cycle that includes tension building, an incident of abuse, reconciliation, and a calm phase before the cycle repeats. This pattern can escalate over time, with the frequency and severity of abuse increasing.”
Mayo Clinic. Wikipedia
You are beautiful even when black and blue
You are the victims and survivors of violence
You are men and women hiding a bruise
Pretending makeup or shades is just styling
You walk sandy soft for there’s a big stick
Or a belt or a fist or and words that hurt
You are afraid to leave maybe you have kids
Amethyst heart the pattern starts it’s absurd
Patterns first you are being green gaslit
Always a scream blaming you for it all
Next is the scene you wish to skip
Throwing things or maybe you against the wall
You are not to blame for the pain
Carefully you must exit but it’s hard
Perhaps it’s the way he/she calls your name
You know that the apology is to start
Spread your wings battered butterfly
God created you to persevere in life
Make a plan to escape and fly high
Happiness will follow in due time
We are winners
even when losers --
God’s patterns,
Whole, holy and perfect --
Patterns even random
never exceeding Divine Borders --
Cloud Patterns
white peaceful patterns
float lazily overhead
I’m lost in my thoughts
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