Plasticine Poems | Examples

Sit A While

Hours nibble at a low back strain.
Tenuous strings were tugged
lifting water bottles.

You wonder how fragile you are,
how vulnerable to those red tides
that bend your iron like plasticine,
turn you into a crooked question mark.

Sit a while old man,
sip tasteless water from a warm plastic bottle,
imagine racing upwards
leaping from mountain top to mountain top,
get high on being low.

You've earned every dull ache,
time to ruefully admit
that there never has been
such a thing
as a 'dull' ache.

Sleeping Thru It

I’ve slept in church
that must be when
I missed the answers.

“When will Christ return?”
I asked, waving my phone,
“I have this handy calendar app.”

"My child," he said, putting a
fatherly hand on my shoulder.
I wiped it off, like a spider web.

I’ll never get to heaven,
I lack the plasticine
malleability of belief.
.

**plasticine malleability = Play-Doh like*

Palace of Mind

Dark eyes awakening
drifting between the haze
illuminates one of Us.
chromatic spirits cooling out
vintage happiness memories;
it's all weightless Vibes
soul plated candy dancing dreams
Red Line eternities-give way to
Chosen notions, blinding Emotions
taking their Earthly toll
devouring human convulsions.
bridge that "generational" gap
albeit symbiotic synaptic slaps
silencing one's eclectic Ego
in an ever after mindless trap.
Light degrees in salient Soulology
moving all essence plentitudes
into a governing afterlife scope
of interdimensional compositions,
evaluating peace with weeping walls
of convivial conscious levity.
Plasticine modalities of Elder agreements.
Mo' better inner peace.
Blastoff!

The Magic of Colors

NB:  This is a repost, originally deleted.


The vermillion sunset has long dissipated 
Over the marine  persimmon horizon afar.
In the deep subterranean silence of the charcoal night.
Obfuscation confuses the illogical mind,
And conjures titanium dreams or harlequin volitions.

I feel your power descend upon me,
Subjugated surrender becomes inevitable
As I become malleable like puce plasticine.
 
I discern my wife approach, shimmering in thin air, 
Dressed in a dark turquoise threadbare gown, in the pale rays
Of the chartreuse moonlight, resembling an enigmatic ivory ghost
Drawing near in a flimsy wisp of a nocturnal mist.

 
Come closer, come, I want you near me,
Sing an echoing mesmerizing mermaid melody for me,
Or slide into an enticing dance macabre.
I thrive upon such inexplicable endeavors,
Where nocturnal indigo sprites whisper dreamy antics
So pleasing to the provocation of the mind,
Combine to please the sybaritic nerves
Of this old and senile useless mind of mine.

An Inflammatory Condition

Hours nibble at a back strain.
Tenuous strings were tugged
lifting water bottles.
You wonder how weak and fragile
you are. How vulnerable to
those ancient red tides within
that can bend your iron like plasticine,
turn you into a crooked question mark.
Quartered by straining horses,
neural fibers alliterate a thrumming fugue
upon a desiccated elastic band;
one now stretched far too taut.

An Inflammatory Condition

Hours nibble at a back strain.
Tenuous strings were pulled
lifting water bottles.
You wonder how weak and fragile
you are. How vulnerable to 
these ancient red tides within
that can bend your iron like plasticine,
turn you into a crooked question mark.

The body is quartered by straining horses,
a torture of disruption 
condemning the spine to the wrenching rack.
After the sudden blind attack
sharp incisions tear apart and spasm,
keep you shuffling into dark corners
where ghosts groan over their
twisted bones.

Crab-walking time whittles away
at your shrunken being.
You feel as if you are bottled by water,
a sloshing on a rocking skateboard,
wakes crash - splashes of awareness
witnessing a sudden fragility,
the awkward creaking of your soul 
being stretched too taut 
on its desiccated elastic band.

The Plasticine Boy

Plasticine-boy´s life was a continual liq quiver,
it was a sight to see.
There was nothing original in him, except fear,
without impulse nor opinion
even with no defined color
adaptable to anyone
just like the chameleons.

Always modeled by the hands of others,
or...
threatened by the hands of others,
suffering himself the blows,
harassment, bullying, assault, persecution, mobbing, stalking,
victimization.

He would endure all in solitude and silence.
But one day... he would escape from all their clutches
by means of a Grand Finale.

And now...In Heaven
The whole colors of the rainbow
shine into and from that little plasticine tablet.

It Ain'T Heavy Babe

It ain’t heavy Babe


Writing lines so soft they can never be heavy.
Driving along in my Beetle; dreaming about a Chevy.
Time to begin again; getting ready.
Lovin’ ain’t as easy as they all say it is.
Still I’m heading out west, looking for something steady.


Been rolling my whole life through, with love on my mind.
I’ve climbed every hill that stood in my way,
And I sank into every ditch that I could find.
My heart is a heart-seeker, but my lovin’ eyes have been blind.
I believed in the unbelievable; wasted so much time.


Could have been a contender,
If only I had the talent to succeed.
I could have made something of myself,
If only I knew just what to do with this plasticine.
Sang songs of love and sang songs of hate.
It all took every piece of me.
Wrote poems about my every day, every day
And all my nights and in all my dreams,
But still I am left here waiting, praying for her love.
Love is a boulder, upon my shoulders,
And I’m feeling heavy…
Maybe I should do something good.


(C)2018 Aa Harvey. All Rights Reserved.

Green With Envy

I met her when I was sixteen or seventeen
One old mean vicious queen called Josephine 
Her skin the texture of a tangerine
And its color plasticine aquamarine
Obsessed with her aging beauty hardly pristine
Deeply tormented by the hope of cure or vaccine

I vividly remember the wildest bizarre surreal scene
It was in between mid-October and the eve of Halloween
When she lined our trampoline with a thick coat of vaseline
She made us hop like mexican jumping beans that evil queen
There we were me and my friends Maureen Kathleen and Eileen
She resented our youth and let us loose in an old pinball machine 
Sea green with envy screaming out spells of velveteen opaline
This was her idea of some weird evergreen rejuvenation machine



AP: Honorable Mention 2020

Submitted on March 14, 2019 for contest “GREEN” HUMOR, OLD OR NEW sponsored by CAROLYN DEVONSHIRE  -  RANKED 4TH

If I'D Be Born For Evil Deed

If I'd be born for evil deed
to capture water, land and heaven,
I'd plead you save my soul in need,
It is deformed, it's a black as raven. 
You would take as warm plasticine
this miser's heart that brings the trouble,
It would be scared the king of sin,
He's harmless for you like soap bubble.
You would pass by my gloomy hall
of loses and remains of glory,
But your trial's fast, you make me fall,
And I can't shout: not guilty, sorry
for my so funny dreams and thoughts
these you remain, angel of vengeance,
You know no love, you hear no words,
And it seems I was born to menace.

Meccano Number One

Start life in a pushchair
end up in a wheelchair
that
doesn't sound fair to me

I'd like a parachute.

but we rise as we fall
keep our eyes
on the ball and
the game plays out as it will.

If life is a 'Gif'
I wonder if
but then I don't.

So for me
it's back to the Weetabix
the Sticklebricks
and plasticine

and taking forty winks in 
the time it takes to
take five
because
I have a microwave bed,
(old jokes are the best)

modernity's killing me
but slowly and in an
old fashioned kind of way.

Animal Charm

It's perfectly true, there's a blue kangaroo,
    Where an emu once flew, upside-down.
    There's even a lion, that's made of pig iron,
    While the polar bears fur's eiderdown.
    With a tiny sardine, of green plasticine,
    It's where cuckoos spring out of swiss clocks.
    Whatever it seems, they're not idle dreams,
    They're all playthings, in my little toy box.

    31/ 1/ 2018.

Not a Burden

The middle finger meets the notch inside my thumb,
squeeze tighter, maybe it’ll shrink.
Trying to push up inside of my skeleton,
closing my eyes I try to pull out my chest.
This feels inhuman, like she’s someone else.
She’s looking back at me, but she can’t register my form. 
Count from one to sixty, it should take longer. 
Someone wraps your fingers under the protrusion on my shoulder,
shake me and tell me you noticed. 
After hours of this standoff, this plasticine mold of me
is like a faceless mannequin I wanna give a name. 
Kissing bathroom walls is an occupation
I’m waiting for the badge on my stomach to rise from the dead. 
I’m never less alone than when alone.

Plasticine, Powder, Sprites, Sweet Nothings

Swarm robots sing                                         your dreams of snow angels.
They flutter in formation,                                flinging up flakes.
Engineered wings                                           whispered together:
"Rise from the pack ice,                                  wait for my kisses
of polymers and airfoils and programs -             I'm pining to play with
persistence of vision                                       and time...in time.
Watch what I've wished for                              rise from the powder in time...
Be mine...                                                    in time..."

The Dark Season

The dark season of cold, pallid vastness
Has not broken the tenacity
Of the first snow fall
Heralding the purity of the colorless
And the aroma of burning pine

This opaque mood I am in
Rejoices for the dark season
Yellow and brown ochre highlights
Burnt umber trees of plasticine 
Molded by the hands of nature

In my mind, I am alone in this one-way reality
And yet, I delight for the dark season
If I could share this sensation, I would not
For it’s the prelude to a poem
About a cold and distant soul

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