CLOURISTA
mood
& personality
an
intuitive
complex
of influence
decor
perceived
in
a spectrum
of
primary
pigments
tone
& saturation
red orange
yellow green blue
purple sides
of shortest
hue
'til blackness
in white
fades
into
a unity
of grey
with
intriguing
sublety
&
intensity
in
the
lasered
eye
emit
random
chaotic
photons
both coherent
&
radiates
sensations
in contrasts
&
complements
vibrate
in
the spatial
mind
light/dark
instinctive
& vivid
a
visual
spice
enlivens
&evokes
awareness
of
apparel
impressions
piquing
unadulterated
clarity
&
appeal
Categories:
piquing, art, word play,
Form: Didactic
Being with you may not be my thing
But to me you are everything
You are my sunshine and rainbow
Ever glittering - a perfect snow
A rore that shines till eternity
A reflection of my precious memory
The tamer of my anarchy
When piquing storms foster disharmony
How could I be solemn without your company?
When the raucous winds constantly pique my hands for bleed?
When only a snapshot reminds me of your beauty?
When the roaring lions want me for their feed?
For you are my sunshine in the evening
When the wind is like the lightning
When the shadow of the morning
Is as bleak as departing.
Categories:
piquing, inspiration,
Form: Free verse
this cooler air seems to mottle the trees
spinning leaves like my thoughts in winded dance
befalling trails of tears on crimson breeze
as they fall grounded beneath the oak's stance
i hear the crumble of death beneath me
as i shiver within its strident gasp
chaotic roots reach out beneath its quay
piquing me with tones of your final rasp
dubious mind much like bare branches snaps
within the disdain utter from dead lips
as it echoes remorse in lifeless slaps
freeing only my body from its grips
my soul stands colorless, naked and numb
mirroring the trees in this autumn glum
December 27, 2019
Entered into Best Sonnet of 2019 Contest
Sponsored by John Hamilton
September 30, 2019
*Quay is pronounced as Ke
Categories:
piquing, autumn, death,
Form: Sonnet
On the train tracks, I can see
A pink and velcroed shoe,
Straws and empty water bottles;
Also in my view:
A balled-up t-shirt, bottle caps,
A little book for writing,
Some orange peels and ciggie butts -
In all, not too inviting.
I focus on that sneaker, though,
Its owner just a child
And wonder how she lost it,
If her guardian went wild.
She must have had to make it home
With only one shoe on,
Like when we sang of "Diddle Diddle
Dumpling, my son John."
These little hints of what went down
Are there for us to see,
Inspiring poems as well as piquing
Curiosity.
Categories:
piquing, life,
Form: Rhyme
Dawn She's So Beautiful
I went up to the lake to fish
early morning reverie.
She was peaking over my shoulders,
Dawn,
illuminating my trail,
my steps,
past tall oaks
and scattered underbrush,
where I saw
a bright eyed deer
holding my stare
before darting off
and little rabbits
making a beehive
back to home.
As the early morning
undressed
my piquing ears touched
by birds singing
in the shower,
garbling in unison
to one another,
like those little blue robins
I would love to cuddle.
As I walk
the chill melts
and the fog
from my lips lessen,
as I walk in cadence
to the masses
of flying insects,
bees and butterflies
I see flirting
with blossoms.
My eyes look up
at the open skies,
nature,
my heart skips a rope
like a child,
as daylight breaks
... Dawn
leading the way.
She's so beautiful,
her reverie,
I wish I could catch
and covet.
connie pachecho
8/3/17
Categories:
piquing, beauty, fishing, flower, introspection,
Form: Narrative
Catholic School Girls always seem demure and calm,
cloistered beneath the walls of sanctity their
imaginations roam, dying to be set free,
repressed by the cloaks of chastity
they long to grow up and set their hearts
ablaze, but the religious life and their parents,
keeps their daydreaming in a haze,
until boys start piquing their curiosity
and their hearts start beating rampantly,
All the golden rules they have learned,
goes out the window and infatuation takes its place,
Sometimes the crushes they display takes them all the
way into a life they are not ready for, then there are the times
when their feelings get spurned, making them think they have
nowhere to turn, causing little women to think of the unusual,
such as elaborate stories to get their way,
especially when their secret love interests stop
giving them the time of day.
Categories:
piquing, lifelife,
Form: Prose Poetry