DEPARTING RETICENCE-:-
dutifully
follows
impressioned
earthly
contrasts
with INTANGIBLE ATMOSPHERES
sophisticated
textual
approached
confident
virtuosity
to CREATE PEACE&QUIET
envisage
abiding
autonomous
enlivened
highlights
Serpent! Those words were!
On the way, is silence
Because words aren't meeker
this time, to confront grievance
Epoch of reticence!
On the way, is winter of despair
Because hope is true
this time, for thy worst nightmare
Prognostication won't work!
On the way, is melancholic fall
Because eyes are ought to be slavish
this time, to gaze, they won't answer the call
Void or something never enough?
Crossed the way, came fire
to which you are introduced as silence
Cause fate has turned into a liar
perched on the branches
of a high verdant tree
an introvert savours silence ~
his inquisitive mind flies
on the wings of fantasy
----------------------------
A Brian Strand
PREMIERE Poetry Contest
Placed 3rd
Posted May 2022
stunted
emotions
in
a troubled maverick
liberated
by landscapes
impassioned
in pink green & blue
fixation freedom
in a mountain
view
the provincial peasant
prevailed
by
'art of the askew'
still life
in arrested moments
He made me the centre of gravity.
Pride dressed, lone like blood moon
Whose deserted home became vanity
Did I become evil or was I rune?
Greater insight and realized sanity,
I was the diamond his life festoon.
Nothing said surroundings environmental still;
Nothing's heard still loneliest beats of warmth chills;
Nothing said
No moving parts stationary Surround -Soundz
No moving parts listless
Listlessness
Incandescent no voices
No surround sound
Stalled echos laden calls
Mouth stops all sound drops
Everything all elements are still
Nothing said
9/01/19
Placed 3rd place in Contest
For Silent Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Silent One
Having heard the harping howls
of a hungry herd on the prowl
I realized reticence is a revered gift
like the sweet love song of a swift
One day
When we’ve finally had enough
When we’ve drained each other dry
We will wander forth
Exhausted, and beneath the star-lit night lie.
In bewilderment
As we wonder how much much time slipped by
Reflecting on fleeting sensual moments,
Which stood still an eternity in time.
Rebecca .A. Huxley
O what forgotten providence,
to which my soul falls victim
on and off and on again,
indecision marking each page
with dog eared brutality.
Know not, want not, we
could never truly return
a moment as inconsequential
as that which marks. . .
Providential Dreams whose ends
are more mutably cataclysmic
than their begins.
Can only be born of indecisive
wonderlust,
Impendent scenes are nothing but
Providential Dreams
As providential dreams are nothing
But necessity.
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