Curve through the reeds dissolving
Replications of the sky
And sun with their passage
A kind of colourful fish
Red
Black
Brown
And yellow
Forming a colourful society
Within which my image
Appears broken.
Categories:
replications, 11th grade, 12th grade,
Form: Free verse
Red Oak menstruates in the heat of summer
Beech and maples stand back from her labor
Moonlight lifts her skirt
Wind drifts through her leaves
She stomps in circles only the owls divine
Piper of voles
She checks the many holes up and down her body
Shivers
An ancient skin crawling with leafhoppers and katydids
Pinches herself of replications
Like a plate glass window shattered from above
She rains green acorns
Thousands of bitter thumbtacks dropped to the forest floor
Seeds claw to their tiny graves
How they cry night and day
During a month of rain sun and the twist of Earth’s belly!
Mother! Mother!
Until
More than enough
For a feast of all the creatures
The remaining settle
Stars
Born from the mud and sky of colliding galaxies
Woman and God.
Categories:
replications, birth, earth, god, miracle,
Form: Free verse
salient smile scrunching
punctured physiognomy pulsing
voluptuous chin vying
over mystic memory
with callous contentions
seeped in stupefaction
rusty rubberneck moaning
airy attention fostering
damped dog downbeat
nocturnal ends neighboring
felon results rustling
saucy rebellion smirking
Her dad disembarked;
His monstrous master.
20:01:03:05:07
Note: 42 words.
My idea of the story - A picture prompt.
A girl took her dog with her to meet her father who was a sailor. He'd been away for like forever. He was a loving father to the girl, and a cruel monster to the dog.
Sooner he disembarked and was coming towards her (After few years of departure). At the thought of the replications of sweet memories that'd be restored, she smiled happily at her returning father. While the dog frowned upon the arrival of his monstrous monster: variation of feelings and attainment of pleasures. (Emphasis on the last couplet).
Categories:
replications, happy, sad,
Form: Sonnet
How nice
that our lieders could not to live forever.
You just imagine
what happened our world for
if our immortal comrades
might electing himself
handred and handred times
for presidency.
Only think, dear,
what happenned around,
if our national leader
will create innumerous tandems,
constitutions and rules
for legitimace eternal presidency,
will printed
in the memory of generations and generations,
as a superman and superstar
on the various horses,
on the countless planes and jets
in the countless submarins,
on the countless Siberian rivers
with naked proudly torse
in present time
(and naked soul and batress on future retrospect)
on the spacerships and warships,
on the fares corner of space,
with sombrero on head
and without it
on the wing of Saturn,
as a golden giant stature
in the deserts of Asia,
and so on, so on
your exellency and your majesty,
till the completely crackdown
of heaven.
Thank you, my Lord
for sharp limitation
such maddening plays
and replications
from our rulers.
Categories:
replications, political,
Form: Ode
Drumming from the amps, bristling with snares and hooks,
(“I see in your eyes, castles in Spain.”);
Aide memoirs of the past, post-war resurrection, stubbornly,
Wreathed in wires of smoke and delineated by baselines,
(“I see in your eyes, castles in Spain.”);
In the imaginary glare, scrubland plains play host,
The homeland of bleached white sonic structures,
Aspiring to touch the scorched stonewashed sky,
(“I see in your eyes, castles in Spain.”);
Ravaging the cold corpses of pastoral dictators,
Burying them in gritty sand, interring with their
Emotional fascism for companionship on the final
Journey into the heartlands of the dead conquistador,
(“I see in your eyes, castles in Spain.”);
In that hopeless kill zone of love and promises,
That vain and empty body of soulless night,
That reflective insult of scorn and terrible beauty,
Replications of dreams laid bare, films on her iris,
Panoramas populated by citadels of waste,
(“I see in your eyes, castles in Spain.”)
(“I see in your eyes…castles… in… Spain!”).
But what can I do?
Categories:
replications, allegory, angst, death, history,
Form: Verse