Everything that time or tide may tell
a silver birch rise in an azure sky
Moonbeam with its wrinkles and dry mouth
captivated by the mournful music
The perception of something eternal
is in itself a utopia -
but an encouragement on a cloudy day
Don't tear up the roots or retouch the story
An eternal escape as the waves
Morals and principles despite the prize
The traces of a heart that sought balm
will be buried in the underworld forever
17.03.2023
Sun :) - A-L Andresen :)
Copyright © All Rights Reserved
- 'M' Words - Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Constance La France
1st place in the contest
Categories:
retouch, deep, depression, metaphor, sad,
Form: Free verse
As recollections are restored, clay breaks retouch.
A bare soul, a wrecked heart, sorrow, and despair
Tears will recuperate your inward love and mental wounds.
Our spirits are bolstered when... we love and care.
Written: August 29, 2021
Liberum Divisa 7 Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Gregory Richard Barden
* This is a form I call "Liberum Divisa," and it's composed of a four-line verse taken from a Free Verse poem of mine called "Soul Mending," written on August 14, 2021. *
Categories:
retouch, analogy, emotions, encouraging, heart,
Form: Free verse
Subtlety is the lexicon of exquisite mindfulness.
Kintsugi is a Japanese method of mending harm.
Another soul, another brilliance, another imperativeness.
Kings platter broke death, distress, and a phony delight!
In any case, there's gold and platinum dust here.
Avail Chinese polish tree saps to recuperate breaks
I can't discover repairing for my frail love.
Is anything but a special salve known than these?
I decided to assemble my demolished self, pieces and shreds.
Demolished photos from the garbage, I sorted them.
Smirched sheet, blurred shades soul contemplations remain.
Anxiety breaks the brain and hinders Kintsugi from aiding artwork.
A brilliant waterway of life might have the splendor you need.
As broken memories are recast, so does the clay.
Craft skill, gold trim, and heal the breaks in the earth is alive.
The words inspire trouble that strikes the spirit.
As recollections are restored, clay breaks retouch.
A bare soul, a wrecked heart, sorrow, and despair
Tears will recuperate your inward love and mental wounds.
Our spirits are bolstered when we love and care.
Written: August 14, 2021
Categories:
retouch, analogy, appreciation, beautiful, heartbreak,
Form: Free verse
Time’s never obliged ~
Heedless, impetuous fame
Exacerbates traits…
But factitious facades fade
UV-rays on gelcoats, craze…
Retouch, unfinished ~
Tide oblivious, streams on
Rising and ebbing…
Eyes old smile recognition
Young ones urge explanation…
Names so soon obscure ~
Ocean sinking impetus
Leaves afloat, excerpts…
Darn! That cannonball race zipped!
Speedy generations flash…
(3/7/2021: Caribbean, Windmill Cove)
Categories:
retouch, age,
Form: Tanka
If I were to collage next year
I’d place bronze across gold
and third over first,
stick paper upon electric,
paste glutton below thirst.
If I were to sculpt next year
I’d chisel women into boardrooms,
chip away white to reveal colour,
smooth borders, fences and walls,
curve catwalks with something fuller.
If I were to paint next year
I’d splash rainbows over churches
and shade Xs in boxes to stay,
I’d smudge pay gaps, titles and labels,
etch over surgeries, filters and Black Friday.
But if I were to sketch last year,
using invisible ink I’d draw a stage, ruined,
without watercolour I’d wax a bridge, rammed apart,
in fine liner I’d retouch a city’s cycle path, attacked,
keeping a vanishing point in sight and restart.
So if art was time, and I free to design,
I’d graffiti the White House
with handprints the paint of all races,
I’d stencil love above hate,
and erase hurtful mouths from all faces.
Categories:
retouch, art,
Form: Free verse
My selfie with words
By alexia brinsley
How do We capture a moment when the flash doesn’t work, and ideals can't be cropped in a frame?
When filters just “hurt", the "enhance" won't flirt, and the tag doesn't yet have a name?
Why do we share more than what we want to see?
Do we know someone we’ll never touch?
Do we ever switch off, uncharge, just be...
Flip the view,
Hold your breath,
Retouch.
Keeping the world at an arms length shot, leaves life little room in-between.
The squinting smiles like a virtual virus not an inch of our life unseen.
Battery bleeds as the screen fades slow,
the panic starts cold setting in.
For how can you live in the frame of your phone when light on the screen is too dim.
Categories:
retouch, analogy, anxiety, beauty, bullying,
Form: ABC
Once while sitting, idly, scribbling
thoughts, like drool, slow, slowly dribbling
eraser tips muse gnawing, nibbling
I spied a shadow on the floor
suddenly the muse came creeping
creeping through mind’s chamber door
The month was chilly, wet, and raw
goosebumps raised by wingless “caw”
pencils clutched in darkened maw
mocking me in retched slumber
muse dangling in her frozen claw
words fled the dying lead filled lumber.
“Muse” I cried, “be gone, be free”
“take you’re accursed touch from me”
“unclench my soul, let it be!”
retouch the page with warmth of pen
Heralds - in trumpeted decree
Rejoice – for Now is never Then.
So does the flow of lover’s hearts
celebrate such “fits and starts”
play both “joy and sadness” parts
from icy veins bring forth blood red
upon bare pages draped in art
‘tis passion’s heat the muse must bed.
©4/7/2018
//with apologies to the Bard//
submitted to – BRING ME TO LIFE – Poetry Contest
sponsor – Aiyah de Torres
Categories:
retouch, motivation, muse, poets, writing,
Form: Verse
I sift lines
Retrace old footsteps
I sip wine
Retouch old mind maps
I scan plots
Refine odd angles
I cast lots
Remind odd bangles
I seek drafts
Retrace fond trips
I feed craft
Rescind dim grip
I stitch reach
Retrieve old pitch
I beach niche
Relaunch prompt itch
I pry poise
Restore odd oomph
I try noise
Reward odd blooms
Leon Enriquez
03 May 2017
Singapore
Categories:
retouch, beauty,
Form: Quatrain
We sit together,
For hours in lonely land;
Sit silently side by side,
With no word from mouth,
Yet don't know why we smile;
Face and eyes gesture,
Communicating signs;
Thy girlish eyes,
In gesture gives a look,
penetrates straight into my heart;
Happens something and something,
Then flows back to thou;
Though can't hear,
Can't even see,
Yet can read thy mind;
Close rapport between us,
Built telepathy silently overtime;
The depth of signals,
Communicate together,
With no sound from mouth;
The soul too takes a note,
Makes its emotive move;
My injury and thou cry in pain,
No- no its not love,
A phenomenal spiritual ardour,
Travels between our souls;
Wave length flows,
With no trace in breeze;
The body signals,
Before the mouth opens lips;
Closeness ameliorates ambiance,
Gives retouch finishing to ties:
Don’t need to speak,
Yet we read each other’s mind;
© sadashivan nair
Categories:
retouch, beauty, boyfriend, i love
Form: Prose Poetry
Living by the clock of
cells calling with a
message of goodwill or,
"Please pay your bill."
her veneer is peeling away
in the face of time;
behind the mask it
appears wrinkled by the tale.
No allergy to make-up
marring the paint job
although, a retouch
might carve a legend.
Rushamora, with her three
faces of tripolar resistance
hurries to pet the cat
when nerves come to play.
Categories:
retouch, life,
Form: Free verse