VIRTUAL RARITIES
techniques
transformed
to
explore
the potentials &
possibilities
of
modelling
the
initiative&
generatively
appropriated &
reimagined
renditions
surrounded
by
iterative complexity
extracted
&
merged
with the
visual
expressing
a mood
static
tangible
& prominent
inn
alternatives
stylised imagery
symbolised
by
the
serene
introspective
distilled
with
uncertainty
marginalised
in
precedents by
conceptual
stereotypes
expressed
in token
proponents
so finely
tuned
NOTE:THIS IS AN OPEN(organic) FORM VERSE using spaces&breaks without grammatical symbols ,the ' open' relies upon 'the one breath limitation' & so inherently requires the 'reader' (reciter) to input and responds thus making this enigmatic form a two way interplay & interpretatIon unique to the moment& changing according to mood is inherently variable.
Copyright © Brian Strand
Our bond shall always be a treasure,
As its worth has always been beyond measure.
Like how words are hard to find,
Times we’ve shared are buried in your mind.
I swear though, I will always remember,
All the things we’ve done together.
Though we said farewell as we buried those rarities,
Only time will tell when it will be
When we reunite like explorers by the sea.
Then, and only then, will we see with clarity,
What the true treasure between us
Truly means to me.
The same people who are demanding
I put a suffocating thong over my face
are the same ones who lift sieves from borders
and invite in the slag along with the gold
the ones with no respect for law and order
the same ones that demonize all police
the same ones who close an ocean
because of a stray rogue on the beach
the same ones who claim
they can stop rioting with a hug and bubbles of love
the same ones that showcase the rarities in society
boiling our souls for the sake of blood ratings
the same ones that release violent inmates
into society to protect them from the flu
the same ones that are defacing honest Abe
the same ones that use retirement homes
as halfway houses for rapists and drug addicts
the same ones that rip toilets from their mansions
to avoid paying taxes-while raising mine...
that's why you can bet your sweet "regressive" behind
that my thumb will be turning red come November.
Ravishing Rarities
ranunculus reigns
rhododendrons resplendent
roses radiate
Some Socialize
swifts soar, swans swagger
swallows / sparrows socialize
sandpipers scatter
Tasty Tree Types
tamarillo treats
tropical tamarind trees
tasty tangerines
written 29 July 2020
If you found a fragment of an ancient Greek vase in sand on the edge of the surf, you can find as well all the others, provided that you have an eternity.
A time;
a sea;
salty and warm surf's hands, sorting through a treasure,
gifts from who knows who to who knows whom,
a bric-a-brac* of life:
green,
white,
orange shards of glass, turned into gems by numbers one and second on this list;
a button;
a dime;
a cork;
a toothless comb;
a children's plastic scoop;
an oval shell;
pebbles, tangled up in the algae's brown beard;
a cheap,
enamel on silver,
ringlet (my girlfriend lost it here in July. We got married in September, but she still feels sorry of this ringlet).
* (fr.) A collection of all sorts of rarities, art objects or just useless stuff.
24/07/2019
Writing Challenge 3, July 2019 - List - Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Dear Heart
The Beauty Of You
As rare as a butterfly in the snow
Or maybe a weed that will not grow
Perhaps a candle light in the rain
Perchance a baby born without any pain
The unlikely chance of a rainbow
On a bright sunshiny day all aglow
All these things I find rare and true
When I think of the beauty of you
Fancy a morning glory so bright
Blooming in the middle of the night
Or the unlikelihood of leaves turning green
In the middle of a cold winter scene
A child without any candy on hand
Can you picture a beach without any sand
All these things I find rare and true
When I think of the beauty of you
Can you imagine a horse that didn't run
Or a circus where there was no fun
Ever seen a wedding with no tears
Or a soldier gone to war with no fear
No list of rarities would be complete
And it sure would not be half as sweet
Nor would it be half as rare and true
If it did not include the beauty of you
The picture was precious.
The infantilism made one breathless.
The pupa indolence was exquisite in form.
I watched those transmogrifications transform.
Diamonds in the ruff would bring the monarch prosperity.
The rarities of their beauty confound.
The eyes behold profoundly.
Their wings formed from the cocoon.
The pupa stage is now devoured.
One day it will become more than just a flight.
They will develop a sensitivity to their fight.
They will know that the wind is not to embrace.
Therefore, they will find a safe haven from the storm.
They will live their life span because they have been informed that
they are diamonds in the ruff.
The imagery of animation has been defined.
A diamond in the ruff is within those lines in which the writer metaphors
life to the imagination as a chrysalis stage.
Sagaciously seen via phases is eruditely engaged.
Imago sexually matured but diamonds in the ruff until life formed is
to procure greater days.
The butterfly will always affect nature ways.
Diamonds in the ruff are sages.
________________________________|
PENNED ON JUNE 12, 2014!
Are your eyes the green of a shamrock's leaf,
or your nose the tide that comes and runs?
Is your skin the plains of pearls and perplexities,
your hair the curtain to a rainforest peace?
Could be your ears the caverns where rarities dwell,
and your shoulders belfries that will never ring?
May your chest be a wound that never swells,
and your heart be the silence that learns how to sing
Is your hand a ten-minute first-light,
your fingers the fleeting moment that stays?
Might your arms ensphere the the broken, the evil, the cold,
bring what ends, for sure, to the prelude, alright?
Your legs and feet, perhaps, lucid dreams and strange fools,
with bizarres and bazaars, eccentricities galore,
Playing with colors, creatures, the cosmos, the rules,
that no matter duration, leave invocation for more?
Your mind calculates, creates, contemplates, is there,
But without You, none of these could ever, ever be.
For without the green of a shamrock's leaf,
the vastest of woodlands would seem nothing but bare.
The careless, chuckling cheetah
With spittle on its mouth.
The skinny faced cheetah,
Emotionally frail,
Dreadfully trained.
The infant-minded cheetah
Sprinting into the black lake’s tears
For the skeleton of a vagrant.
Ball and chain,
elation, nature, elation,
The boys, the girls, the stars
The cigarette-scented cheetah.
Foxy, like a woman,
Alluring as a bronze skinned streetwalker,
Sexy, wicked
Cinnamon-lipped, noxious---
That is the cheetah.
And I, who am human, would love her
But she claws my face
And I, who am human,
Would lavish her with rarities
Yet she forsakes me.
So now I seek the husky---
The cold-faced husky,
For she, they say,
Is a politer courtesan,
And in her house my troubles
May escape the hex of the cheetah.
And who is artist?
I was told before, dollar for painting
(a hundred for creation)
I don't believe that anymore
(never really did)
We are the architects, playing to the open field of the underworld to realities
(an artist with an 'e')
thick conglomerates of sticky color for fingertips
assimilations of rarities in a crown of words
(and I wear it every day)
I walk with a liquid transcription in my mind, and a step before another
planned to exist.
It's the attraction to memory-movement-making
Paste against palette, mouth against ambiance
a sensuality, that goes beyond knowing
and enters the realm of divine.
We are what we are- and what we are is
liquid- little tapers of movement,
beautiful movement.
Even the naked, aspiring snakes of Adam and Eve
begins here.
And who is artist?
I promise you this
They'll never pay you to enough to know.
Weighing heavy on my mind
like the hefty schoolyard bully
perched on the chest of his captured prey
cruelly taunting
My soul, which wanted to take off and soar,
remained shrouded for a time like a hooded falcon
kept by the falconer and so
with eager anticipation: I waited
And I wondered if such things as
pain and pleasure
were meant to be connected somehow
like fraternal twins who complement each other
Life’s lessons came hard earned for me like
the bidder seeking rarities at an auction and so
I learned that merits earned by determination and sweat:
are all the sweeter and much more valuable
Mistakes have taken a toll on my life and I feel like
a lighthouse that has withstood the battering
of many violent storms and yet
I remain resolute, but a little worse for wear.