( For all the girls in the Western cape)
I am Oudtshoorn's odyssey of opulence, so ornate I make Aphrodite look underdressed.
My form is a sculptural miracle that bends light and reality with a mere whisper of perfection.
I am the quiet queen of the Klein Karoo, and my beauty is literally the oxygen you breath.
Scientists claim the stars rearranged themselves just to spell out my name in cosmic awe.
I am the ocular opera everyone wishes they had front-row tickets for.
To speak of my beauty requires a new language made entirely of sighs and rapturous adjectives.
Edwardo Chillida Juantegui
wit a sculptural style so free
Not abstract but more realist
with his art did indeed persist
NOTIONS OF SPACE
contrasted with
vision of
a private realm
a hidden world
brought
to life
so brightly
lit
sculptural assemblages
so enchantingly
strange
twisted
ideas
not immediately apparent
illumine
rather than stifle
we
glimpse
the future
enshrined
THIS IS AN OPEN(organic) FORM VERSE without grammatical symbols the ' open' relies upon 'the one breath limitation' & so inherently requires the 'reader' (reciter) to input and respond thus making the form a two way interplay and often a unique interpretation by the enigma so derived
SCULPTURAL
fusion
frieze
fine curved
perceptions
economy of line
to
stimulate
humdrum gestures
unrecognized
pretentious
hysteria
& shocks
foibles
so explosive
THIS IS AN OPEN(organic) FORM VERSE without grammatical symbols the ' open' relies upon 'the one breath limitation' & so inherently requires the 'reader' (reciter) to input and respond thus making the form a two way interplay and often a unique interpretation by the enigma so derived
If I say, you are more a stone than a flower,
Will you, allow me to live peacefully ever?
Yet, dear, it’s clear, stones possess crystal tough texture,
Do flowers own a sturdy crystalline structure?
Does a flower face all atmospheric pressures?
Stones do steadily, with altering atmospheres.
A flower, by nature, is often tender, soft,
A stone, though hard, has a tender sculptural heart.
Though a flower has color it soon fades away,
The charming colors of stones, with them, always stay.
The precious stones are priceless; you very well know,
Is any flower placed in such a revered row?
Now I say, you are more a stone than a flower,
Will you not leave me to live peacefully ever?
12 August 2021
STONES Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Anthony Biaanco
For where is the love that I seek,
My soul searches deeper still…
Hearts hibernating in mystique,
I surrender to its wavering will…
Looking up to sapphire skies,
May it rain pearls of passion…
Tears that fall from elusive eyes,
Are saved as reminiscent ration…
May I find your love in galaxies gold,
Your sculptural smile behind the veil…
Marooned to your mesmerizing mold
Lost at sea to your sequestered sail…
Can lonesome love eternally exist,
Where kept kisses are forever missed.
Dec.31.2019
2019 best sonnet
Sponsored by: John Hamilton
Placed 3'rd & POTD...Thank You
Spiraling simulations surfacing,
scattering synthetic secretions...
Constitution compiling constructs,
chimera copulations condescending…
Hope harvesting hallucinations,
halcyon harmonics hovering…
Eternities embracing ethereal etchings,
engulfing endometrium’s echo…
Dissociation disrupting dreams,
daunting deflective deception…
Illicit Illusions idling,
identical igneous illusory immanent…
Astral ambient abode,
abeyant assimilation abductions arising…
Licentious lethargic lioness longing,
levitating luring landscapes…
Sculptural synergies succumbing,
sensual sensations shuddering.
Background music...by Ennja
"No Matter"
With a female virtual voice
July.05.2019
Another Eight Word Challenge
Sponsored by: Kai Michael Neumann
Placed 1'st...Thank You
Wind of wind haste among the sky pen point the sculpture now close one eyes
A build a house among the sea sit among captivate like bronze to a medalist
To smile a pond a river and to found shadow would you feel warm
To dine at at a table Ming and well how well would one tell a store
The intend of the inhibition show victory well warn and won
Ideas sculptural like a well to a deed
Foreign eyes Foreign sea thirsty from a well hinder to legs
New and truth tradition moves the sea like a cannon rapid fire all that one sees
Lovely as a feature caring at night
To be the quest to be the understand hits miles from home the way she thrush
To smile a pond a river and to found shadow would you feel warm
To dine at at a table Ming and well how well would one tell a story
To be here to be there to think about a con that is a forward will
Passion under take the hate from the rain tide a waves build like tower with out warning
But none surpass here or her will to keep or wont is it of pass good will
Fortune loose Fortune well that of a man trial for her words
To dine at at a table Ming and well how well would one tell a story.
You lover
from the night
crept into
my room
and all of a sudden
there was the sound
of a passionate kiss
paradise shuttered with love.
And at that moment
the moon lifted up his brow
shining down upon you
revealing your soft form
a blazing sculptural art.
You my love
with thighs of zebra
coils of serpents
breasts of turtledoves
tender round hips.
Kiss me again
with purplish fire
of glowing lips
while our two wild manes
mingle their torrents...
S ilence fills the air hanging on the limbs of night.
N uances of gray fall into rivers of purple dark.
O nly the crackle of ice and fallen limbs prevail.
W onderous is the falling of the snow
Silence has a ring, a resonace, drawing sleep askance,
filling the air with white noise and the hollows with night,
hanging on the limbs iciciles form sculptural lollies.
Of night we speak and the snow that blesses the ground
Nuances of gray wrap the forest like the mufflers of children,
fall gently into rivers and dells of fantasy where fairies dwell,
of purple-dark the royal dream, the snowfalls deeply tranced.
Only the crackle of ice speaks to the glow of moonbeams.
And, fallen limbs brace to hide the rabbits and the wrens,
prevailing ever against the wonderous weight of snow.
Is the falling a fearsome plight to be shunned no to be sought ..
of the snow, the snow..well, for in its beauty are we all caught.
The ponderous fog lifted early,
now the widening bounteous blue
makes its presence known,
my feet stay on the ground,
but my eyes climb an upward
journey passing slowly in review
and as big as passion itself.
I'm gently carried to another height,
a caressing contentment and quiet period
where the depths of inspiration
seem limitless among the sculptural
mountains that slope near, then
irregularly lift and fall, and beyond
every heightening, a new heightening waits.
Resting on the mountaintops, one huge
cloud with scalloped edges of mighty
morning shine, and lingering high above
are the smoldering sunbeams, therefore,
ranks of gold in scattered grandeur
are put on view wherever it falls.
A wandering river coursing unhindered,
alongside, verdant fern that's spread out
like green lace, but also sated
pines in their stateliness of movement.
Reaching for mountain peaks so that
serenity stretches out its sensors
to relieve any inner restlessness or
turbulence while steadying my hurried pace.
I was lying leisurely on my back
on mid-morn Monday of May second
My gaze and glance heavenbound
The cloud forming into mountainous sheet, i observed
And disintegrating, like surf they dissolved
Disintegrated but in characters so hieroglyphics
Like Michelangelo's renaissance sculptural acrobatics
Through it i had a permitted view
Of the noon by its arc in lieu
Of its fullnes, without its alluring presence
Stripped of its illumining essence
Appeared grey, blue and off-white
Stood plainly and passively tight
Like a lone spectator in an arena
So, the moon at noon seen but no sooner
Gone, like a spy that was almost unmasked
In consipracy by the uniting cloud concealed
This poem intends to capture a moment of passing day in time in rhyme for
posterity, May 22nd 2005.
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