Stenciled Poems | Examples

Parlor Fresco

On the parlor wall, a canvas frame 
Adorned with whispers of a fascist game 
A warped impression, born of decadence and sleep 
The perfect lie, where dreams and nightmares creep

A stenciled girl with eyes of distant gray 
A masquerade of innocence, in every way 
Her beauty is a snare, a trap to ensnare 
The unsuspecting heart, with promise and with care

But I see through the veneer, the artful disguise And in the darkness, I find my compromise

On the parlor wall, a perfect crime 
A '68 FBI wanted poster, faded design 
A lazy Vargas pinup spread her thighs 
But I see only the thrill of pale, painted lies

The Mona Lisa's smile, a ruse and a birth 
A masquerade of irony, dancing on moth- eaten earth She hides her truth, a promise kept from sight As I piss on the pyre, the charade takes flight

Unwanted

Gift a wash basin wrappèd in foil
A wish unheard for it was  and diapers soiled
stenciled pencil on scetchpads waning lips
Of full moons curse and syringe tips
On a heart of wanting kids no more
And eyes cried dry and cold and red as soul-sores
On lips cursed for unwanted stranger to come
And in stead of gladness only sorrow was won

Design My Threads

If only I could sketch landscapes and moors.
I'd paint hillsides yellow and fill them in gorse.
I'd use a fine needle and the core green pose.
In between, stitch a line of grass on the floors.

The dales would have a purple heather carpet.
And line up the woods with their lovely lilac bells.
I'd blend bracken and heather colors like shells.
A green-purple seascape on my fair fabric scarlet.

I'd stitch a pile of daisy chains using soft white wool.
Along meandering hallways and beautiful meadows.
I stenciled the marshes as clean glass white yellows.
Buttercups and deft water lilies along the wild pool.

Red, yellow, and orange flowers bloom freely.
On a colorful canvas, my own stunning tapestry.

Written: April 09, 2023

Tea Party Quandary

Tea kettle steam and curtseys greet queenly company.
"Quaint" dainty danishes are dazzlingly displayed
with quintessential utensils and dishes.
Stenciled place cards display exclusive names.
Respective guests, formally dressed, rest with "poise."
Facing "platinum" plates gently lie on lace doilies.
Coral lilies bloom "perfume" from a porcelain vase.
Imagination's "quay" traces Teacup Bay, where
a sea of swooshing scents blend to perfection.
Sinatra's croons fuse with light conversation.
Earl Grey's bergamot flavor warrants accolades.
Spiced chai indulgence compliments petite cream puffs.
Honey hibiscus kissed lips sink in to sandwich quarters:
glazed turkey focaccia perked with endive and feta, 
and roast beef ciabatta pleased with provolone cheese.
Tuna cucumber rolls are wrapped like sacred scrolls.
Bakery scones, cupcakes, and biscuits await.
I "quiver" to consider the "quandary" of 
treat possibilities, all within reach.
My jesting "penance" for perfection 
is to sample three of each.


Mind Your P's and Q's Contest words used:
Penance Poise Perfume Platinum
Quay Quiver Quandary Quaint
Sponsor: Michelle Faulkner

2/9/2021

Narrative

traces of snow, black earth, roots
of devils hands that grasp at frost,
walls stenciled with cold growth;

a far dog coughs open a winter sunday,
but we are scared to peek under the crust,
so we tick and turn, waiting for

a dark better than this, come soon...
the light of your eyes has become
pale and diffuse, here and longer in ice

The Ranch Hand's Babies, Part 2 of 3

Sixties Secret Agent

In black and orange inks
some wag had stenciled,
"no need for tests -
for use on dinks".

Gung-ho. Can-do.
Make war, not love.
You hit puberty, and find
you're the biggest kid on the block.
Time to throw some weight around.
Buy yourself a Glock.

Damn this forest.
They don't play fair.
We'll catch 'em in the open
with our phosphorescent flares.

We invented cocaine drinks,
electric chairs, chop suey -
let's have us a little think:
claymores, napalm, hueys.

If only we could find a way
to murder all these trees:
if all this life were scalded, flayed,
and shriveled till it dropped away,
poisoned, sickly, palsied, grey,
then Charlie, skulking somewhere
out there
would show up in our lenses' stare
and we could bring our guns
to bear.
So. Get it done.

No Need For Wishing

No need for wishing

We waltzed on the moon
while the universe slumbered
Strolled through a maze at 
the edge of midnight

Stenciled a heart on 
the clouds found at sunset
Painted a garden 
in jasmine delight

Watched as the day dawned
a silken mosaic
Laid in the grass
neath a heaven sent view

Bid a farewell to
our guardian angel
No need for wishing,
our dreams had come true

2/6/17
Written for the Chimera World Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Nayda Ivette Negron

My Family Tree Is My Christmas Tree

A heart as white as snow
Opened the runway to Santa's sled
His wish a gift for his joy to show
All year long for the good example he's led

Inflated balls bounced around
His excited mind racing like go carts
His eyes lit up like a Christmas tree
With the love messages he stenciled in the Christmas card..
 
It read, "My family tree is my Christmas tree
Mother's cookbook, hmmm, a recipe for my joy
And for all the smiles I see around me
I'm thankful for my home and this wonderful toy."

Telephone Booth

The yellow pages wither away in this red undertone 
Our world once reconnected behind wood and glass
When two hearts were disconnected by the world so vast
To the love posted in units of time…get me a coin fast!

At the corner of Cosmos and Maxwell two minds meet
The hour midnight to your noon, ‘see you soon’…we greet
Hello…and we both smile, in spite of the thousand miles
Between us is an unbreakable cord…glad to have dialed

Driving past there…it’s now a newspaper stand
The line long cut, but you’re still holding onto my hand
Something other than my aching heart making headlines 
Your travels have brought you back home to the phone 

The change kept us in touch, nothing much has changed, but
It’s a lot cheaper, easier to say I love before the funds run out
I had our names stenciled above the receiver to remember us both
You’re first in my phonebook…as you were to the telephone booth

Valentine's Day - Ugggh

Valentine’s Day:
The annual sabbath of pacifists,
exhibitionists,  and abiders,
conflated into a single wilting of wills,
destined to the jaws of a shredder,
or landfill,
blocking the visibility and scent
of sustenance for buzzards
and other parasitic organisms,
designed to sustain
the ecological balance of decay,
when if forgotten,
will leave one
in a similar state of graces
with the non-recipient
of manufactured gestures.
So don’t forget the impassioned poetry
stenciled across
a stock photo of strangers,
or the waxy bister
of formed chocolates,
or you might find yourself
listed among the outcasts  
who take a break from love
on Valentine’s Day.

Statuary Grey

Winter whitewashes Autumn's decay,
and yet, you know that Spring will soon show.
But, as snowflakes bury Fall's array,
depression deepens with each fresh snow.

Snow-laden trees, like sculptures of clay;
stand exposed, chiseled by a sharp breeze.
And stenciled in statuary grey;
like outstretched fingers, bare branches freeze.

A brisk breeze wrestles your breath away,
in the grip of an unyielding cold.
And muting the sound of children's play;
melancholy thoughts start to take hold.

A stormy day causes nerves to fray,
for doldrums brood within shadows cast.
And folks speculate on Spring's delay,
damping hopes that this weather won't last.

Purple and scarlet ink the sun's rays,
and yet, sunset chills you to the bone.
For as twilight dims on dreary days,
you feel depressed, shut in, and alone.

Doll With Wings

Porcelain doll hangs on shadows and wings
Of twilight’s frame. Guarding an autumn child,
The toy lightens ink of stenciled dusk
As her enamel fingers gleam like candles...
Yellow the stars where she comes from
robed in  fine lace . Through heaven’s  print
An angel in disguise bestows love, as
Porcelain doll hangs on shadows and wings



Contest 236 Max 16 Lines

Old Man

He was always at the same spot, least everyday I passed
In the snow, rain, cold or really hot his shadow was cast
He never really said much or took people out of their way
But many people he did touch his sign just saying to pray

Some people would stop and talk, some a smile on their face
Others would just continue to walk uneasy in just such a place
Some would toss a wave or a smile and that became everyday
And yet all the while it was the man with the sign just saying to pray

And as the subways roared in and the next wave would pass by
We have all fallen in our own sin as so being one reason why
And there read other reasons too all stenciled neatly on his sign
But today there was something new right there on the very last line

Perhaps you never gave Him a thought each day in passing him by
Up until now you never sought and didn't think that you'd ever try
But it was that last line wasn't it that finally did draw you near
The fact that the old man never quit, to you that finally did adhere

Being a Dreamer

Being a dreamer is never boring,
	Its like a boat without its mooring,
You can pretend to be a fish,
	Swim a bit, laugh, act so childish,
Or you can fly to the nearest tower,
	Dig a hole and plant a flower.
When the moon is howling full,
	Pensive ideas make their pull,
Grinding, grueling, gritty grains
	Stenciled stuttering standing stains.
Eyes transfixed by things oblique,
	Ennui is only of and for the weak.
In rapid jests of poemy words,
	Vowels flutter like milky birds,
A leap of faith in corrupted phrases,
	The rhythm amiss like crooked faces.
You take an apple but taste a pear,
	You brush your teeth but get white hair,
It’s never boring like I said,
	A pickled world can’t raise its dead.
(Which methinks is kind of like saying:
	Signs and symptoms are always dismaying)
Play is a losers infinite no-end game,
	You draw some circles straight and same,
Make from the hip and cross a heart,
	Go figure out how, just promise to start.

Aftermath

The breeze stenciled in gray as night dims low
Engraving war's moments, blood of sorrow.



Rhyme Battle: Round 6 , Juli-Michelle

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