Short Topography Poems

Howcome geography
with her subtle lines drawn
through his topography
defines what's goin' on?...

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Francesco Guardi so prolific
the love of painting made him tick
He captured Venetian atmosphere
topography now held so dear...

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DESIGNS
flowing
    exploring
impressions
intimations
singlehanded
but
  lovingly
&tenacious
in
patterned
 contrasts
in
careful
topography
 graceful
&vital
reflections
in delinations
with
  sensitive
&
  divine
variations...

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Creating is not creation...
it is more, the tiger from
his cage set free – 

the aquarium dolphin again
allowed to roam endless 
his liquid topography – 

It is releasing gifts

sipping from wells our
thirsts divinely quenched
when surfacing depths of
eternity...

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The wheel of time rotates
the destiny kaleidoscope 
lattice makes life’s melange
in perception topography 
of dismal burnt wasteland
or euphoric emerald vale.

_______________

December 31, 2021
Contest : Bite Size Poem #31
Sponsor : Line Gauthier...

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Up In the mountains
 Down in the valleys
 In the orderly way the oceans move 
I see love
Love like no other
one perfect in topography
Ingenuity and craftsmanship
It’s in the way the sun rises just at the break of dawn 
And in that perfect moment at twilight...


Luyanda Ngema...

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Clogging intercellular space
with habits of frozen lips,
and traps of dead skin,
fine design camouflaged
in photonic crystals
refracting sun rays on fish’s scales,
solidified tears
in hail-stone milky rings
Colliding up and down
on dry bone scale
tempting to mould
the scaly topography....

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Topography- embrace its meaning
Open roadways- visually gleaning

State boundaries- further we'd proceed
Connect-the-dots- we'd follow their lead

Deepened creases- a wider landscape
Artful tearing- revived with clear tape

Thumbprint dirt stained- unplanned souvenirs
Revisited- discovered frontiers

3-10-2021...

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Folklore being our culture
Heritage and traditional couture 

Gets limited by its geography
Never flies out of its topography

When it is translated globally
And interlocked mutually

Local language just goes global
When translated by English Royal

Let's translate all local lore
To take it to the global galore...

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The Squirrel
Agile, gray-brown fluff
 burying acorns in the yarded scruff,
future mighty oak spawned nests of hope
 stretched out branch trapezed along a tightrope,
chatter banter circular frolicking unfaint
 tail challenge waving screech complaints,
acrobatic voyeur of the crowned aerial topography
 where forest backwood wilderness rise with progeny,
to accommodate and nurture eagle wannabes....

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The tremendous trembling
troubling thrashing terror
trees tipped, torn then tossed
Tornado tracked toward trail.

Trampling, transforming
telegraphing thoughts 
totally teased time
turning today to tomorrow.

Thinking this tale
tells the tragic turmoil
took tolls, turned themes
that transfixed tranquility.

Then Tuesday told 
theocratic terrible topics
thus totally tearing 
thy tender topography....

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Defined by the wind and clouds
The violent storm came upon the shore
As waves crested against the dry sand
Leaving evidence of forcefulness
As tracks from wind and water
Gave way to new topography

Standing on the dunes, mesmerized,
I then realized change itself is imminent
There are actions for everything
There are, in turn, reactions
Define not, the source of change,
But define the effect, to understand...

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Strong hands explore
The pure silk landscape
In gentle topography
Tracing her features
Beneath his fingers
Mapping her contours
Her sensual curvature
The undulating terrain
Soft mounds contrasted 
By prominent peaks
Then across the flatness
Of the tremulous plain
Thru sparse coarse undergrowth
To the hot moist valley beyond
Strong hands explore
And as fingers probe
The pure silk landscape
Reforms beneath his touch...

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Topography Course

He does not drop, and I do not drop,
	But rise, and rise in waves,
The heat of its tick, the fury of the tempest,
	Raging to rise, its rise in wakes.
The sweat pours in each vein, an elixir of Adonis
	His immortality, of men in state,
And I am the weather and I am its climate,
	My veins pulsing the blood of its river
Selected in imperial tyranny 
	For a first onslaught and spray of silver
Before its siege....

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So often
I lose myself 
in your eyes.
Vast and shimmering 
with stars
With glory that
captures

Your hands
calloused and worn
from years of labor
Yet so often 
I forget all my pains
when you touch me so 
gently.

Your neck
A strong pillar
So often
I lose track of time
while I study 
it's soft topography
with my 
lips.

Then
you turn to me
A kiss
Irreversible bliss
so often
I forget where I am 
when I'm with
you....

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