Short Blobs Poems

another
blob day
in a brainless land

another
brainless day
in a land of blobs

0
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we await 
further
instructions...

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Blobs

I forgive the 
24 mould blobs strewn about on 
the ceiling almost every time they 
about-turn because 
they bring me 
crackers when I 
crave crackers.
...

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Wassily Kandinsky made his art sing
the music therein made it ring
But some take the streaks of blobs
as an act of random dobs*

*https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Composition_VI...

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brushing scented breeze 
rainbow blobs on wide green fields ~
mother earth’s palate




April 1,2022  11.15am



https://www.howmanysyllables.com/syllable_counter/ 

5/7/5...

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Ripped and tea soaked
blobs and blips
sellotaped the breaches 
shine and dust drenched attics
where sunlight picks its points
moments lost and rescued
wait somewhere
within the back
of my mind...

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Two gelatinous
blobs. Each is repelled
by the other's strong
surface tension. They
fight for possession.

One is of good,
the other evil.
A balance is
missing. They fight.

Off of each
other they
ricochet.

They share
the throne:

Life....

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JEWELLRY


beads
of sweat
running down my head
mean I’m alive not
dead

drip 
droplets 
scarlet
ruby
globule
blobs
crimson
red
gems
 
alive
dead I’m not mean
my head down running
beads 
of sweat

I forge ahead

© Kim van Breda—7 December 2015...

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Blitsy Blobs



        The buzzing bee on the bloom stowing away honey for blitsy blobs



                                         January 26, 2016
                                       Contest: Monoku #3
                                   Sponsor: Poet Destroyer A...

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Bubbling bacon
basks on the bright blaze
blobs blow up, 
burning beautifically on coal beds

The bark below bothers me
as I lay back taking the bite:
the branch bears the burden
of my tired bones

*Just a note, this is basically a joke written to try and figure out a genre, not really a serious poem*...

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gestural
 abstraction
 immediate
spontaneous
  drips blobs
 from the tube

non-formal
  un-formulated
art informel
  sans cérémonie

an
absence
of
 a premeditated
   structure
 conception
       or approach
dribbled
splashed
   smeared

an emphasis
upon
  the physical
process
  itself...

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 gods live among 
my gleaming blobs
I want to know 
how you can reach me
should breaths topple 
on fading lights.
My contour swells
 far into clouds open
to keep glazed pellets
 from devouring my eyes…
the wind, 
the elements swarm inside me
as I watch your heartbeat 
pulsate...I am
enthralled!...

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In a Shoreham garden,scent of blossom fills the air,a white blaze of spring to make every heart sing.Impressioniste before its time.A profusion of clouds or blobs,dabs &extravagences per se.This stylised enigma proliferacy in a pastoral wood by a once-upon-a-time teen-age prodigy..made good.	


Inspired by Samuel Pamer’s iA Shoreham Garden 1827...

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Horrible blobs
crawling on the radar
threatening detonations
punctuating torpid oppression
promising a merciless deluge

Robotic insects invading
Wrathful humans devolving
Nature devouring
Order dissipating

Ambient lyrical drones
bathing the dystopic landscape
inculcating visions of an alternate world...

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Blows The Top
heights sufficient 
to endanger jet airplanes

explosive escape 
of the gases from the magma
violent eruption 
"blows the top" off the volcano. 

Gas, blobs of magma (now called lava),

chunks of rock, 
and fine debris volcanic ash 
blasted upwards. 

The ash, because it is very light, 
may reach heights eagles winds....

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Squinting into the lens plugged tube
At a droplet placed on a slide,
His focused eye beheld an unknown world. 

A water bead became a circular sea
Teeming with writhing blobs of life,
With creatures he had never seen in dreams.

"Wee beasties!" he exclaimed in trembling awe
When his intrusion into microcosm
Magnified what he and we could know....

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Hue of blue scattered the sky,
the same sky you're watching
Face turned toward the sun,
reflecting the speckled hues of your eyes.

Music can silently be heard
travelling the splintered sky
and tickling the moon.
Vision is blind.

Purple line with green intersections
on a yellow background,
coated atop white blobs of emptiness.
But isn't black the color of sadness?...

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The sweet jasmine scent
Lingering in my room
Wafting through open windows
Drifting by unlocked doors

Shirts, sweaters, and jackets
Lying across the area
Lifeless blobs of fabric
Floating in a sea

Ziplock bags of words
Lonely vocabulary cards sitting
On my messy table
Reigning alone over procrastination

A silent snow globe
Standing in the corner
Waiting to be awakened
Everlasting snowflakes flying everywhere...

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raisins in the sun;
black men run
snowflakes in june
fall from the sky
and dismally we cry
for the moon
has frozen itself
the glare of cold stars
burns our souls;
the clouds are weeping.
old mother nature is senile.
she sits darning holes
that have worn in the ages
while
eternity is slipping
into oblivion
as a black sun is dripping
(or maybe it's crying)
dark blobs upon the pages
of the book of life
and her children
are dying......

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