Short Articulated Poems

no sooner an impulse is articulated ~
the taste of what could have been is mitigated...

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"It's getting  colder now,
Harder to get started,
Especially in the morning"
The lorry articulated....

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     "From the River to the Sea
        'Palestine' will be free"

      Freely articulated ~
         Seven million Jews eviscerated...

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shapes
          adjacent
subliminal postures
in elements
              of purity:
a surfeit of harmony
shards of enlightenment
minute observations
luminosity articulated...

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shapes
          adjacent
subliminal postures
in elements
              of purity:
a surfeit of harmony
shards of enlightenment
minute observations
luminosity articulated...

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MOTIFS
an enriching
leifmotif
  scorching
permeating
 in
distorting
  glimpes
of tonality
on
the brink
at a
     crosroads
an
articulated
 recognition
achieved
in
felowship...

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To this windily increase
One, more chilling reacts:
"Sighs of men accumulated!
And articulated!

On Love's new track, setting out
With skied hopes dawning
Then let down of, all too soon;
Like sunset at noon....

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If it is delivered in such a manner
Articulated language pin point precise
An audience will come
For each word takes on new meaning
Only the reader understands  
Passed from peer to peer
Till it returns to the very ear
Of the author overseer...

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The beatings of our hearts
 harmonizes with the celestial rhythm
 of Elohim
 Creator’s words, 
spoken from His mind 
and articulated through our vocal cords.

8/6/24
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr.2024©
...

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… the reeds bend the wind
G. Milev

where the blue is a mirage 
for the forehead bent 
the man is undressed
and dry soil drops out of his lips
the sadness is an illusion for those ones
who clench the shores with their teeth 
and the articulated reeds swing…...

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gentle one
       so
          friendly,too
what is it?:
is it
     innocence
in embryo-
thoughts
       transformed,
a subtext
echoed
from
    the
       past:
so remarkable
so unusual
yet
     low key,
instincts
        articulated
candid
pertinent
succinct
and to
       the point...

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BEYONG PAINTNG
perceptble
   poems
rhmetically
patterned
 pale
 lyrical
   emptied
of
the
  obvious

coded
  allusion
purified
byr
  precision
in inverted
     dreams
of
saturated
   motifs

streams
 of disconnected
conscouness
articulated 
 & dislocated
anchored
& contoured
        by enigma...

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While life was in its spring, a stream in full spate down memory lane from a bygone time and place that experience articulated into voices of poetry.Love and desire,whose shadow ripple on rich in melody, a poesie of flowers floating on summer air and yet..such conceits can be but a bittersweet fancy 'twixt verse and poetry....

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The music cannot be denied,
it unwinds like an articulated dragon
through a metallically ringing void.
Then there is the silk serpent
hidden in the driving engine
the closed-eyed coiling.

The hairs in my ears dance;
the notes are calling out stars;
not the ones we see,
but dark stars
born in the disheveled rooms
of fallen angels....

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Every step made with anticipation,
Words written with hope ,
Dreams dreamt under the stars ,
Words articulated with care .

The pen and ink all witnesses,
The paper the great bearer of truth,
The walls saw in silence -
As the future got laid on white paper.


Dreaming is good ,
Having hope is sweet,
Plans make the future seen ,
But failure comes unannounced...

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"We are here"
He shouted from crisp lips
A deep articulated freshness
climbed the glossy sky
future timed 
night broken

A friendly brawl with
the valley whore woke the
man's white throat

"You have brought me the world"

Beyond the leaves and trees
the air appeared to understand
A mocking bird from nearby spoke
and the dead man's bells echoed 
in silent laughter....

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Wallace Stevens was the greatest
man I never knew.
Juggled both Hunting Tigers
and hanging nouns.

Wonder about his demeanor
walking about the courtroom
with even heeled shoes,
focusing on the even keeled beat.

A dozen orbits and 
twice that in satellites
quivering to witness twisted truths,
be they that or not.

Phrased.
Articulated. 
Blatently controlling the room,
his stage....

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TRANSIENT
 made visible
in the eponymous
to
 first appear
a
point a
in
linear perspective
 relief
with expressive
intensity

a breath
a downcast gaze
with furrowed brow
a presence
  of
the
otherwise
as
realism
as
 is heightened
 by the
remarkable

facilitated
 articulated
so processional
  readily available
talismanic
effigies
of imagination
 realised
by
desire...

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Awareness,articulated,emphasises inherent intimacy,communicated eye to eye.
everchanging yet underlying the movement here and there.Engraved forever,catalogued in human memory,available on recall.Translucent interplays of light,figuration in transition,precise palpitations of pure delight sound in the beholders ear.Testaments of th transparent,and the temporal,all too soon
evaporates before the eye....

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My perspective is of pristine settings,
   A vantage of raw beauty.
Articulated in a naturalistic way,
   With great tenacity and duty.

I’m an interpreter of what is sensed,
   The author of my own experiences.
I write from my writing spot,
   Of many of nature’s lenience’s. 

I capture momentary flashes,
   Of inspiration, which I adore.
I’m forever occupied and proud, 
   To be a chronicler of outdoors....

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I am alone
                but not lonely.
Thoughts ..solitary..one-by-one
a theme from imagination,
                                       begun.
A thread
                inside myself
drifting this way and that
as a spider jettisons a silk
upon the wind
                     to make a web.
Intricate,fragile,ephemeral
'til written out and said
aloud...to myself..

From inside..to out

..articulated and spread....

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A SON UNEXPECTEDLY PASSES

an intention not explained,
of an action designed
to focus on a plight;
but never articulated why.
and as the bell tower clangours,
and olde bones neath shallow graves,
groan under weight
of another who comes before their time,
and many cried ‘Oh Why!’
an intention not explained,
of a son unexpectedly 
passes before his moment and in his prime,
and a family cried.

Francis Cooper – Mac © 13-Jul-20...

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I've wanted to write this poem for the last few days
But I keep losing the lines.
Things get erased.
Concepts never clearly articulated
Or realized. All that remains are
Just fragments, like:
"Maneuverable Joy."
"I see the love between the hate."
And: "Is this how you treat the people you love?"
Is this how we treat the people we love?

You see? 
I never lost the poem.
It only now appears in the present.
Just as the nature of love does....

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Words have color and intent,
texture, size and shape;
loosed by emotions we give
legs to lowly travel, and wings
to keep them aloft~ those articulated
ribboned kites we fly in our poetry

Once released, we can never take
them entirely back

Words knit together and scatter,

Blend and splatter

Mend and shatter –  make smile
and tear...

Words are everything to
marvel under and over

Something for everyone
we should both treasure 

and fear....

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Winter approached 

in hours of finality, 

quelled midst midnight's 

imperfectly lit enticement 

of darkly notable

impressive spirits, 

motioning a welcomed 

goodbye gesture, 

laying to rest 

a chilled salutation, 

as ghostly ambitions 

commenced to play 

a well articulated

empowering seduction, 

chasing lullaby's softly

dreamt enchantment, 

sleeping peaceably

unfurled beyond

destined reawakening, 

condemned to limbo...

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