I pull out my watercolours
to try to paint what I’m feeling
Vibrant red stained by brown
Bright yellow blemished by grey clouds
But the blue, isn’t blue enough
No matter how much i try
Should mix in my tears
Or breathe in a sigh ?
My colours comes to life
Dripping onto my fingertips
As my hands sob onto the canvas
Puddles start to ebb and flow
The red is shocked by electrifying oranges
And seemlessly the ocher dances
The emotions glide through the water
Rippling in ever corner
My paintbrush soaks up the shadows hidden in
The umbra of my nights
The ones with which I put up a fight
The vista of shades become a philharmonic conversation
A babble of acute sensations
Dribbles of passionate abstractions
Mirroring my great sollitude
They wash out into the pot
and merge into a muc of liquidifyed spleen,
Gunky disquietude ready to be pored out of me
As i stain the paper and myself too
I giggle because now I really am blue
These stains stick to me
And now you can see
The true colour of my melancholy
homemade scarlet string
light Aroma
mottling Degree
burning
autumn Leaves –
with nymph flapping wings
you win
waltz to the rhythms on the
zephyr's caroling strain
rainbow-colored
smooth waves
gently rustling intonation
oriflame Lasting
autumn Carnelian
philharmonic Orchestra
Written: July 29, 2022
I struck the raw edges
Jagged scraps
my shards
thunders like waves of anger
on your shore breeze sighed
to ride the wind
sunrises past my dismay
odious side of dark
souvenirs blazing
fade in
skyline silken sun song
propel blimps
orthopter wings
&
draw dusk aches
with burning shapes
& endless rapturous sinew
crimson philharmonic!
grateful life flows
beyond obvious
bestowal affection in a diamond hour
lucidness
climbing longing
velvet whispers
spectrum choir
Written: July 23, 2022
A BRIAN STRAND PREMIERE CHOICE Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Brian Strand
chirping exhaust trails
of a streaming philharmonic
blue-winged panegyrics float in
on a breeze of murmurs
dazzling brainwaves prevail
upheavals of a dawning melody
sequels of an aurora psalm
silken song of a chickadee
twilight fascination
in strands of a woven sapphire
orchestral melodic line
a thalia chorus with notes of
birch on a spring morning
4th Contest Place Winner
Written: June 21, 2022
A BRIAN STRAND PREMIERE CHOICE Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Brian Strand
Grand Piano
Exquisite
For my soul
a true delight
Anticipation rising
for the pianist
to arrive
Upon his stool
so comfortable
flexed fingers
and closed eyes
No music sheet
knows every note
and plays complete
Concerto
Looking up
A baton raised
Fingers are alive
I’m in another place
Transported to Utopia
Conductress
asks of violins
A gentle
calm refrain
Then cellos add
a depth of sound
music playing all around
Crescendo
takes on hidden depths
Pulls me in
My tears doth flow
Rachmaninoff
reaches deep
into my heart
into my soul
A magical spell
'tis played
upon
Exquisite
Grand Piano
Written 13th March 2022 after seeing the London Philharmonic Orchestra playing live...
Contest A BRIAN STRAND INFORMEL
Sponsor Brian Strand
FIRST PLACE
Contest Magical Spell
Sponsor Robert James Liquori
n/a
Outlandishness!
forsake me promptly
ink and exegesis
no reminiscence of yesteryear
unexpectedness
not all epistles
armchairs
philharmonic
autumn leaf looming
omnisiouly close
throughout drudgery
utterly dehydrated
me, my pencils
lack of inspiration
exsiccated
tears stream on face
For all anguish!
upheaval giving back voice
rivers dig deeper and deeper
mysterious redundancy
1ST Place Contest Winner
Written: February 20, 2022
A Brian Strand Vers Libre Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Brian Strand
Like a block of ice in a refrigerator car full of Chicago meats
I have a role to play,
an important purpose, and
limited time to be fully functional.
Like fourth chair, fourth clarinet in the Boston philharmonic
I have a note to sound,
a reason for being, and
without me the chord is incomplete.
Like the words that flow unmetered, unrhymed in free verse
I have messages to send,
a legitimate place in poetry, and
require a patient reader.
EIGHT PLACE WINNER
Written June 22, 2021
For “Let ‘er Rip No. 3” Poetry Contest
Sponsored by John Lawless
Symphony
melodic sounds
instruments playing parts
warming the listener’s heart
Philharmonic
written June 22, 2021
Choral Singer-
You're looking at the choral singer
You're looking at the choral singer
I'm dancing, dancing 'til dawn
I feel lonely
I'm dancing 'til dawn
It's time we had some storms
You don't wanna be stuck indoors promenading
You must think I'm unaccompanied
Everyone is musical sometimes
Don't like your rhymes
Is musical sometimes
You don't wanna be philharmonic like me
You must think I'm a back-beat
Records ain't nothing when I'm gabbling with ya
You're looking at the choral singer
Music
If you feel like wandering
Everyone is musical sometimes
Won't like your rhymes
Is musical sometimes
7/29/20
written words by James Edward Lee Sr.© 2020
dulcet harmony revealed
all you dreamed of ~
inside an aria of resounding
melodies,
you became a woman of
philharmonic beauty,
always in unison with the notes
your soul desired
lyrics written from a sore heart,
verses sung without a voice
left you no choice-
rhythm of your soul speaks in
harmony with my dreams,
they come true,
when near you
you are the resounding tune
i’ve always longed to remember
when rain cascades with cobalt
clouds;
they seek your music too
for you bring me to a place
where the languid in me
d
r
i
p
s slowly with sadness
your muse soothes my soul
sweet sister-
settle by the sill…
and sing soft songs of solitude
____________________________________
27th of January 2020
Our sweet breakfast guest was a vampire.
His finger eating I did admire.
Listened to Philharmonic Choir
His falsetto lit the house on fire
Favorite apple pie was a Macintyre
We had purchased them in Lincolnshire
Blood was his favorite drink, his desire.
I thought it looked ugly and smelled rather dire.
He was great as it said in the flyer.
We went swinging on an old black tire.
I was sly, but frankly, he was slyer.
He said he would not turn me. Oh, that liar!
Checking Out
by Edmund Siejka
In the dimming of twilight
My wife holds the phone close to her ear
Lines of worry crisscross her face
She is talking to her sister
Whose husband is in the hospital
And has taken a turn for the worse.
“Charlie is not doing well
He’s in a lot of pain and
The drugs they gave him
Aren’t working.”
Feeling guilty
I eavesdrop
Catching bits and pieces of words and half sentences.
Soon I stop listening
When the drift of their conversation
Turns to all things funeral.
When it’s my turn in the hospital
I’ll be sitting upright
Propped by two pillows
Sipping Bourbon
Listening to classical music
Until the refined host
Introduces Chopin’s Nocturne No. 2
Played by the Vienna Philharmonic
The volume will not be too loud
But loud enough for me
To feel the orchestra’s strength.
I know the hold of mortal flesh
Is strong
So I will lift my cup
To the patient nurses
Knowing when it’s time
For myself to leave
I will let intuition guide me
And help my spirit
Cross the night.
The fire logs glow, flickering to and fro
in her eyes he sees champagne dreams of love
the soft adagio plays a velvet tune of jazzing blow
right atop the hearth, she's fitted like a glove
Red hair flaming, ruby lips untamed her rubicon
a blush, acclaims her cheeks await the dawn;
Each dancer holds on cue precaution to the wind
style and grace in every move "amour est bleue"
with burning eyes of here, go rescind ,
a love is built on arcs of passion's queue;
Scarlet thoughts roseate skin enflamed a marathon
of amoureuse, bending arching longing one on one ;
Her hair a crayon colored Autumn proffers romance
and all the philharmonic musings of a lovely dream
together they loop meandered agile as a water dance
rushing towards each other skin to skin seam to seam ;
Wine colored kisses taking in a world of bless
garnet hearts of shine never to confess
they once lay dormant in the crook of night
now fired, ready to ignite....
Contest Name: SEASONAL OR UNSEASONAL
Sponsor: Kim Rodrigues
October 22, 2018
Pacific, pacifist pampered papa
parading par excellent paragon
parent (parenthetically parochial
particularly partisan) parvenu
passive, passionately paternalistically patient,
paunchy, peaceably pepped, perfectionist,
perceptive, perennially perky, permissively
persevering, persistently personable, perspicuous,
pertinent, phenomenally philanthropic, philharmonic
picturesquely pious, pioneering, piquantly pithy,
playfully pleasant, pleasurably plucky, plummy,
poetically poignant, politely pontificating, popular,
positively potent, powerfully practiced pragmatist,
praiseworthy, prayerfully precious, precise
predominant, preeminently preferable, preparedly
preponderant, presently president, prestigiously
prevailing, priceless, princely, principally pristine,
privately privileged, prized, proactively procreative,
prodigiously productive, proficiently profitable,
progressively prominant, promisingly prompt,
prophetically propitious, prospectively protective,
proudly proven provocative, prudent psyched, puissant,
punctilious, punctually purposeful.
Art, is worlds of splendor,
Calliopes of sight and sound,
That stimulate our senses,
Expressing life profound.
Art, is visual texture,
Space, shapes, and colored lines,
Its tones and measured values,
Of every imaginable kind.
Art, is Michelangelo,
And his Creation at Sistine,
Kandinsky at the Guggenheim,
Pablo Picasso at fifteen.
Art, is melodic singing,
An opera at the Met,
Or orchestrated performance,
Of audible storytelling silhouettes.
Art, is Sarah Brightman,
With Bocelli accompanied,
The New York Philharmonic,
Woodwind, brass, and tenor strings.
Art, is famous people and places,
Resonating with artistic flair,
Paris, Rome, Broadway, London,
Ginger Rogers, and Fred Astaire.
Art, is how history captures,
A nation’s cultural appeal,
Toward things its people value most,
Their morals, ethics, and ideals.
Sub Categories
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