Short Ocular Poems

Squinting, straining ocular muscles
  unveils a lonely, battered beacon
astride distant shores, welcome signal
  to weary sailors bleary-eyed...

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Nocturnal temps brought heavy frost,
An artist's masterpiece in appearance;
But presently this ocular effect is lost,
For Sunrise always prevents adherence....

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view,
incredibly
striking.
Idyllic
otherworldly
noontide.

ocular
feast

picturesque
and
resplendent 
another
day
in
sacred
eden



Date written: 04/05/2020...

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Vacant but for
minute shadows,
I’d mistaken
for clouds

our sky has lied
again; it is
only blue;
chastely blue.

No longer do you
wait secretly 
behind celestial
skeins of dust.

You are only in my eyes.

©Kathryn McLoughlin Collins
September 16, 20012...

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That giggling stone that bright eye invades
That mirror that rays upon waves
How ocular the eye whence happy
A dazzeling charm penetrates the soul
A wonder a belief to optimizm
Through tough times and joy
Through love and shelter



October , 07, 2018...

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Have i not intervened with the shape of the sea
Or vision vivid mountains with fish jumps
So pure the look like their soft skin
Forming shapes' never seen
Craving for more,

Ocular shapes surround us 
Yet without we're still living




August,11,2018...

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Beau’s beautiful belle                                                                                                         is in the optically ocular ophthalmics                                                                                      of the spectator’s spectacle spectation...

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Looking through a simple magnifier
Words look as big as your thumb,
Meanings, however, are not a justifier
For our being so outrageously dumb.
Never believe everything is as you see,
And be careful not to draw conclusions
For lots of things are very likely to be
The result of our ocular occlusions.

written November 30, 2021...

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Swollen ocular objects of sensitivity 
Stared back in the rear view mirror
Tear glazed cheeks of sadness 
Raised hand the last goodbye
And I forsook love again
A singular journey of thought
The paved road ahead a blur
But albeit a welcome retreat 
From emotional backwash 
Senseless beguiling stupidity 
If but love we’re not so cruel....

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The lake is black, high country water,
ocular.

Beneath the surface, a species
reflected in an amniotic sky.

There are three here,
three progenitors
searching for the lost children
of mankind: -

water, sky and
that which watches.

Three wombs that wait expectantly.

The water stirs,
something born too deep
wants to emerge.

Let it!...

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I never been
ocular witness
one of the happiest moments
that I dreamed.

I did never taste
the wine of freedom
that I knead in my cellars.

And the river goes down onrush, 
in order to sweep
this litter life.

So here I am
At the bank of Acherons
grin and bear it
as in a bus station.
The system 
is doping me with money.
My friends 
promise me a sunny day.
And I want 
the future now!...

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Follow me to the metaphysical plains where spirits graze, 
we'll get lost in the darkest parts of the forest for days, 
following any direction that nature sways, 
ocular perceptions in a Kaleidoscopic maze, 
ascending infinitely in a spiritual phase, 
psychedelically extracting thoughts the mind never portrays, 
nostalgia quickly decays, 
there was never a place for us among society anyways....

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I see the wake 
of what I look at
objects casting ripples
through the sea 
of visual fields
like a boat or Nessy
cutting water
in zig zags
its trail allowing 
secrets, coloured 
kaleidoscope waves
rips and tears
peep holes no less
an honoured glimpse
into the mechanics
of reality, I hope
nobody up there
gets into trouble
for showing me
things they shouldn’t
how things are working
behind the scenes...

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Ocular hypertension and
A couple of jabs here

I read the letters on the chart and
Threw in the towel

But she was adamant 
The connotations

Pay-per-view Las Vegas
Ears bitten 

Jubba-jubba-jib-jab and
A bathroom meteorologist 

I got the receptionist
In a headlock 

I didn't kill Davey Moore
But I made another appointment and

Promised her the next time I was in
I would be the heavyweight champion of the world 



...

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Paws paddlewheel a roundness.
Mouth wide in the sluice, a sodden rudder
pushes sideways braiding a foaming wake.
Pond and dog orbit an ocular sky,
watery eyes memo the turning scene:
a bobbing hat floats beneath clouds,
a heron fishing over its stooping shadow,
a nodding woman upon a snorting horse,
a stroller, a mother,
an old man shaped like a walking stick.
The delirious dog bites a wave and sneezes,
while to-and-fro, a bobbing ball seductively,
turns his world....

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