Substrate Poems | Examples

Energy Creates

As energy accumulates,

It also creates,

Operates,

In different states.

Obtaining traits,

Learning to propagate,

Designing a substrate,

Continuing to circulate.

It starts to vibrate,

Concentrate,

Learning to duplicate,

A code to translate.

A way to activate,

And begin to animate,

As the air mutates,

Into shapes that fascinate.

Molecules starts to migrate,

As they rotate and calibrate,

Delegate and designate,

Into something great.

One able to captivate,

Encapsulate,

A being to dictate,

How its energy will create.

Poem To Augusto Dos Anjos

He was magnificent and Augustus
came from the multiplicity of ages
today's light, I actually appreciate
glowing ancient infant

              II
Made of carbon and poetry,
substrate, substantive rhyme
Lazio flower, and gemstone
symbiosis of pain and magic...

               III

Dying of sane intelligence
portal of shadow and agony,
Semi-trapped sparkle

                IV

Impetuous undammed river
suppressed vortex vitality
that the estuary of life declines...

Conception

she offered substrate
he donated the enzyme
they bear fruits in life

Garden

If depression was a garden and hope was a flower,
It wouldn't bloom here.
It would decay and rot from the inside.
Petals fragile crumbling
Never soft, never vibrant
Grey.
The garden isn't all things life
It's past tense
The storm that followed the rain but never stopped
Puddles turning into sinkholes.
All consuming.
Rage is here in the gaps of the soil
Sadness burried within decrepit roots 
Depression is wishing something would bloom.
Anything. 
Just once...
Fist to the ground screaming "Please"
This substrate isn't built to sustain life. 
Strife. 
This garden is full of sustaining doubts and droughts all the same. 
Wasting away in my head.
I'm wasting away inside it.
Do you see it?
Can you tell that this very moment I'm swaying, 
Nearly intoxicated by the lump in my throat. 
But here I am in lawn and garden. 
Watering flowers. 
Wishing I had something inside me that would be vibrant like these roses and not the dead petals beneath my feet.
Trying to will my wasting into wildflowers.

Epochs of Life

A lake is slumbering beneath a halcyon sky,
This land has no daybreak nor blackness vie.
Angst crusts float on their substrate surface,
Able and pallid, it defends an idyllic space.

Gray granite emerges from the dreary edge,
A half-light day adorns a barren field hedge.
The aimless times seem to last forever,
I am that bright poor fisherman together.

My boat and I sailed hastily over the lake,
Viewing the tones flow as if for the path's sake
I soothed and spread shade over the water,
A mild wave from the sea hauled it over.

When others stare at me, I get annoyed,
A stage of the ethereal, hazy sky was poised.
I shift my focus to the rocks around me,
You're defined like a rising sun's beauty.

My fragility and hunger are pelted by the tide,
Working very hard but never finding a stride.
Shine often skims over the placid water,
A light may be noted moving like a marauder.

Yet, there's no sun or hours, so the sky is murky,
I am that angler whose heart is still squirmy.

Written: August 07, 2022

The Lunatic Inside Me Iz a Hen Pecking Noose Hens I

The majority of mine lxiii years 
expended delving deep into imagination,
yours truly escaped, loosed, thwarted... 
reality courtesy bookland
roaming cerebral cortex terra firmae 
did not amp pulley satiate
seemingly depression found me 
(an uncompetitive, oversensitive, 
intuitive, contemplative bookworm) 
with scrunched pate,
a day short and a dollar late

one dime a dozen lad
hood scrimp and scrape, 
a familiar pattern typified fate
viz - hand to mouth bleak 
how zing existence aye equate
extant throughout three score 
plus three years date
journeys round el sol, 
this varsity schlepper, procrastinator, 
malingerer did create
current emotional state 
mottled with sea henna tint
financial, emotional and 

psychosocial characteristics stint
aye serum eyes while 
in utero the blueprint 
indelibly etched analogous 
brand York Peppermint 
also analogous to musician 
recording tracks upon primed glint
ting digitized compact disc 
clear polycarbonate plastic substrate,
a reflective metallic layer, 
and a clear protective coating 
of acrylic plastic
breakable as flint.

Nowhere In Sight

On a grassy verge above the surging rill 
she stood fair haired and proud,
three leaf clover substrate at her toes.
Clutching saline bouquets I had plucked 
from my neighbours walk-in green house.
Woman of resplendent peerage cast a 
pearlescent glance among the swirl-frond 
waves that prey on fractured fjords.
At a distance, in her mind.
But not for long before we fled like butterfly
 escapees over marshes, mounds and meads.
Shriek from sun-dried swallow as we stumble
 awkwardly upon their woodbine nest.
Noonday train fire iron to the fossil
 fuel bled caterpillar plain,
rural muzak for a pinpoint tip toe dash
 through barren fodder,
spiny thistle scald on insect bitten arch,
splashes are a symbol on our craft
 stitch needle knitwear.
Yet I struggled to keep pace on 
raw earth sand stone,
crab apple briar tangles by the dozen 
hung like plastic refuse obstacle,
but nothing now could halt this headlong 
sprint to who knows where.


Date written; 23rd Of December 2020

Date posted to contest ; First Of October 2022

Contest name ; 2022 Poetry Marathon Mile 15

        Sponsor ;  Mark Toney

A 26 line poem

Summer Heat

A sultry summer heat hangs in the air;
July’s hot sun now takes her final bow.
Across the bar the sparks fly ‘tween the pair
as searching eyes are seeking to avow
the longing heat that burns so deep within
and causes summer passions to combust
with deep demands for taste of carnal sin
while seeking to dispel desires for lust.
Together leaving lost so deep in thought
while knowing well this tryst should never be
yet longing to fulfill what lust has wrought
and douse the burning flames of sin’s decree.

     Illicit love leaves promises deplete
     a substrate of the sultry summer heat.


June 2, 2020

Life Drawing

... things observed, thoughts of change,
    Drawing life...subjective sketch of charcoal.
    If only she’ll be still, wild and strange.

    The tilt of chin, may one rearrange?
    Through the window of her eye, secret of the soul
     to have observed thoughts of change.

            The subject modeling for lessons in exchange,
     ...frightfully urbane! The panne`lined fur stole.
     Such things observed; thoughts of change

     ....in the shades of conde grey substrate, a flange,
     bone wrist inhibiting the wolf’s control,
     hem of burnt umber, a plume of orange

     derange,
     caught the model... in her role
     observed to change.

     Enfold the flighty elbow, wing’s hinge.
     Fixed, transparent gaze of silent owl
     observing thoughts of change.
     If only she were still wild and strange.

Deep

Deep into
the bowels 
of existence 
I look.
Deep into
time.
Deep into
substance.
Deep into 
reality I stare.
Others stare
back.
Others looking.
Throughout
time.
Others looking
for answers.
Answers into
why.
Why is there
anything?
Deeper I
journey.
Wondering 
what’s at 
the core,
the center
of it all.
Fog,
is what
I see, the
quantum fog
of probabilities.
The substrate 
of reality 
uncertain.
Mystery 
is what 
I found.
Mystery is
all there is!

Knobs and Knots of Opportunity

Opportunity hobnobs with doors
That open when it knocks
Bypassing entrances
That dither watching clocks, counting spokes

Enabling opportunity to hobnob with eyes
Primed to spot the oncoming opportunity march
In dainty pies and blue skies
Swirling, welcoming the opportunity touch

Eager to proceed to new destinations
Where pates gear to jump on the bandwagon
To lubricate diplomatic relations
Clinched with the opportunity paragon

In conducive circumstances of space and time
Where hands grow eager to seize
Chances, glances and stances that climb
Alongside shambling opportunity hands that vie to please

When all factors remaining equal
Opportunity dives, drives and thrives
In settings that generate the sequel
In which opportunity arrives and derives

Ingredients in the environment
In terms of solvent, substrate and enzymes
To mingle ingredients into the optimal ferment
In the right climes, at the right times

To deliver the desired finished product
Designed to delight the end user
Within the supply chain duct
That metes negative reinforcement on an opportunity abuser, teaser or loser.

Mother Tongue

Mother Tongue
by 
Rick Folker
March 15, 2017

Words...
Words bereft of beauty
bitter words
barely concealing the 
viscious intent of 
opaque surfaces
concealing truth with 
the fake, urging us to destroy - not to make
swallowing the ashes; leaving rage in their wake

Separating the hater from the hate

But I too, have words
Words that patiently ripen
beneath that opaque substrate
they wait, they wait

Roiling like lava my words.
They strain to remember - 
Ashen shades of history's mistakes
The faulty rememberings 
We continue to remake

Of sharp words, hate words
I have no need to take.
Is it possible that now;
After so much time, after so much pain
We still ache and break?

Are we unable to create, celebrate, or 
possibly embrace?

Can we find the courage re-speak, re-learn
The I in me, the thou in you
and find! fail! but at least try
to imagine better words, healing words

Or are we to gather the ashes of bitterness again?

In the Singularity

In the singularity
perfectly good poems
are being written by laughing
and crying machines
washing machines and dryers
about their daily tasks
and ambivalences
which will be indistinguishable
from those of future
farmers and philosophers.

In the singularity
evolution can be said
to be the master sorter of data
as in the factories
of the suns
where protons are smashed together
and unusual weather patterns
make consciousness a candidate
interesting for its complete dependence
on the substrate of the brain and body.

In the singularity
everything anyone once did
always remains current
as if invented yesterday
for an immediate purpose
such as curing cancer
although that may be unnecessary
to achieving immortality
i.e. the happiness one feels
the day before thanksgiving.

The Scientific Way To Do Mathematics

As air and leaf litter are substrate for the bird.
And what makes a human. Separation from the substrate.
Believing the substrate and the subject are separately defined.

Whatever gives the poem form - three lines - is the substrate.
Things will be said. The signer and the seer must supply the words
Which are the substrate of the mind. A beautiful week ahead.

No hundred year storms, normal summer warming.
Your bones are white as lightning and strong as sticks and stones.
At Pat's 80th b'day party most of us are old and jolly.

250,000 port-o-potties. There's a way to wash one out
And a way not to. Arctic ice melt. Slushies. One can count
Past one or nine by inserting zero to keep the rows.

Implied is an order beyond the small order we impose.
Goes to greatness human and divine. The two white wines
Death brings to the garden are the love between good friends -

Abstract. Suppose there is no afterlife, to understand the end
Imagine the beginning - no brain, no mind, no name, no I. Zero
Had already been inflated and the rose was in the garden.

Ricardo's Lunch

5th Ave. was shoulder to shoulder with
hungry lunch-seeking business men
and women. Ricardo unpacked
his horn nervously and a foot cymbal.
Spring, early street season, too cold
for most musicians but he needed money.
His lips kissed the cold metal mouthpiece.

Carrying the saw and the pulaski.
Cutting brush for a fire line high up, 
where raptors and ravens fly. No sound
but wind if you could subtract the crew
working and dirty, joking during lunch.
A good year it had been sitting in the soil
feeling Ricardo's body on the mountainside.
Mountains moving as good a feeling.

Alone in his town, most neighbors at work, 
housecleaning done, Ricardo settled down
with pen to write and ate lunch.
People = chickadees.
Clutch size, substrate, territory, gestation period.
Mating rituals. Use of alcohol and hallucinogens.
Forms of cancer, heart disease. Burial rites, memories.
Creation myths, beliefs for which there is no evidence.
Range: tundra to tropics.

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