MAGRITTE
dream world
unfurled
DEGAS BALLET
a pose
on toes
WARHOL FACES
monroe
tableaux
SURREALITY
the secret
dread..
reopened
a
chance
happening..
the discovery
alienates,
the spell
persists
after
it had dispersed..
reality remains..
...indifferent
the fantastic
absurd
emphasised
into
the everyday
unexpected
dreamscapes
tableaux
.juxtaposed
snapshots
nuggets
unseen
.throughout
yet
evident
attitudes
notions
faded
with
stereotypes
in focus
SENTIMENT
commitment
highly personal
orthodoxy.
in
modern values
so
enigmatic
a
tableaux
displayed
an inward
looking
response
a
temporary
reaction
ushering
youthful
fervour
distancing
the
inherent
musing
mediated
&
inscribed
the
ultimate
translation
remains
to
overtly
accomplish
SURREALITY
the fantastic
absurd
emphasised
into
the everyday
unexpected
dreamscapes
tableaux
juxtaposed
snapshots
nuggets
unseen
throughout
yet
evident
attitudes
notions
faded
stereotype
in focus
influence
displayed
to
focus
NOTE:THIS IS AN OPEN(organic) FORM VERSE using spaces&breaks without grammatical symbols ,the ' open' relies upon 'the one breath limitation' & so inherently requires the 'reader' (reciter) to input and responds thus making this enigmatic form a two way interplay & interpretatIon unique to the moment& changing according to mood is inherently variable.
Copyright © Brian Strand
DISCONNECTIONS
harmony order
reason &
beauty
&
incidentals
severed
by
upheavals
cerebral &
austere
a purveyor of
dimensions
to catalogue
&measure reveals
the obsessive
elaborate
laboriously
constructed
tableaux
of
destruction
so instantly
recognisable in
impressive &
immaculate
artefacts
to
specifically
fire the imagination
&
concentrate
the interplay
of
reason in
perpetual motion
in grappling
&
conveying
the painstakingly
drumbeat
of
sensation
amid the melee
of the
orchestrated
ensembles
at a distance
the measured
mood
detached
artificial
yet in
symmetry
knitting
everything together
in
cool respect
NOTE:THIS IS AN OPEN(organic) FORM VERSE using spaces&breaks without grammatical symbols ,the ' open' relies upon 'the one breath limitation' & so inherently requires the 'reader' (reciter) to input and responds thus making this enigmatic form a two way interplay & interpretatIon unique to the moment& changing according to mood is inherently variable.
Goblet of moonlight overflowed
Spilling glow, dusting ground
Spread over deep winter forest
Creating oasis fey folk found.
Moonbeams hang on denuded trees
Magical warmth spreads its glow
Forest creatures for one short hour
Join fairy folk in happy tableaux.
Enchantment fades it will not last
Winter will not be usurped this way
Silence so cold all creatures depart
Memory savored until spring day.
Pixabay image: BlueHeartGraphics
And then at the maximum point
Of the graph of my life function
I met Seemorgh.
I opened his tome of wisdom
And pondered the other meanings
Of human words.
I had to descend heavily,
Plumes flown away,
Afterwards, to the earthen plane
Wherefrom I had just risen up
To see the plainsmen still mixing
Green with crimson.
After I had visited Him,
I had no right to order them.
I locked my tongue
Lest I might vex
The great painters,
And left them all
To suffer under their burdens—
Worthy tableaux wrapped in white shrouds.
I was an old wolf mocked by dogs;
And indifferently watched the ants
Nest on my skin;
And shared with flies
The morsel I had in my mouth.
And then I was an unseen truth.
December 1980
No comments, please!
Short grasses and weeny worms,
got some substantial time,
to breath in.
Hungry birds,
concealed inside the shelter,
have flapped the feathery wings.
Sweet little squirrels,
cuddling one another,
have started foraging food.
Rats and rabbits,
raised their heads,
from inside the tunnel.
Succulent winged newborn butterflies,
finally basked in the sun,
had their first flight.
Ain't these the common things?
Anything new here ?
These were the tableaux,
after perpetual rain.
Verily, there were the same scenes,
before that perpetual rain.
But then,
did we really cherish the Sun?
full of emotion
pulsating
brooding
heaving
parsed
by desire
with
feelings
of the heart
a
voyage
of discovery
poignant
aglow
audacious
&
breathless
an intuitive
tableaux
with
gestures
explicit
&
visible
flooding
the moment
overflowing
frantic
!onging to
give
floating
in uncharted
seas
to a love
afire
...
to
savour
sensuous
burning
with fiery
passion
a consuming
flame
driven to despair
all
peace of mind
no more
wounded
deeply tortured
without
the semblance
of reality
mediocrity
a silent shadow
on
circumstance
suddenly
hope
in a sense of beauty
unforced earnestness
conceived
a state
of fermentation
vivacious
&
exciting
what bliss
what delight
free
unconcealed
to know love
&
stand amazed
restless
eyes aflame
love dances
with desire,
laid bare
in a tableaux
of passion
Hast thou clouds? Hast thou storms? Which saintly light kisses and caresses the overgrown field. Such emblematic curves. Notions are not a daisy nor a blade of grass and a blanket can be created from branches. Yes branches. Is not a wandering a way of locating oneself. Ruins cam be rebuilt and reinventing can be obtained. Wishes are waiting. Willing is wanting. And watering is weaving. Creating calmly calamities causing chaotic caustic creative chops. Birthday notions of a dwindling pickle is rife when bathed in auric dew. Wonderful. Great isn't it? So upon reaching rubble take care when uncovering past missions. Swords dwell in ancient spires. And shells move slowly to the ball. Valour of the tableaux. And a linguistic king in a scarlet cape. Wise. Good. Goblets hidden. Dishes. Wine. Nothing is exact in a tourism channel. Houses historically hide. Heavens then. Waters glowing. Many caves. Globally positioned. *** archeological z
Sublime reflections ,eye catching tableaux
monstich ekphrasis tribute to Dutch realism in art
Hear me recite from my 4000+ PS anthology on youtube under my pen name ichthyschiro..
catch my short forms @strandpoet on twitter..
read my kindle guides on amazon
Sitting in the waiting room her sunlit day; complying to their sequence
Amid a foregone conclusion ? Appearing suddenly out of nowhere
Ineffable somehow it seems this, March two thousand twelve's
National Geographic's copy titled, 'The Journey of the Apostles....
Theocracy's last supper sublime; tableaux ? Instinct taking hold slowly
Savoir-faire walking past these doors surely tis for me ? Sanctum sanctorum
Seder thirty years now, gone by ? Why his doctor queried; Angels in the mist hieros.
Wild are the spring flowers which win my heart
wood violets blue, and those Johnnie jump-Up starts
waves of ajunta burgundy glow
pierced with lost daffodils standing apart
a gourmands delight admired a la carte
'mong seas of forsythia fences are draped.
Bushes of fuzzywillows looking smart,
cozy up to dirt roads soften the heart.
even the dandelions make a fine tableaux
as off I go my head spinning with art
to paint images, the sweet and the tart
expressionist posies, as if for VanGogh.
Indian strawberries dot gardens in beds
as buttercups yellow, slip through rye grass
tickled by warm winds and skies overcast.
Oh, I'm ready to paint the beauty ahead
with crimson, vermilion and titanium lead.
Sitting on a hummock I draw the repast
mixing my colors on a piece of glass
stunned by the wild flowers, most over tread.
*Dante's variation on the Italian sonnet.
Going through its ambiance, (on) with open thoughts,
Past scenes so serene, and picturesque (in situ passed).
A house, its windows just ajar to the tactile winsome breeze
That taste of zest & adventure infused; with distilled memory’s,
And (sensed) delights unmet “as yet”.the wend of life so rich,
surrounds my mind & senses like the abundant shining light.
That upon the varied tableaux glow, before falls the lilac scented night.
Through all the turvy ways, and livelong day,
I’ll count the picket fences, as I travel or Stop to gaze.
I look out onto the pastureland that runs between the towns,
Observing rolling verdant turf, and cattle with thoughtful frowns.
The Holstein herds and Jersey cows, with Friesians ’mooing low’,
Character houses stand on hillocks; a horse & buggy moving slow.
There are tended lawns with a velvet like pile,
that have entered my awareness, these pleasant miles,
And on the horizon moving; (waits) that shimmering rippling run.
Of a blue & ribboning shoreline where pleasure necessitates fun.
There wind can like a lion roar, or call like turtle doves
With New Jersey soul superimposing the whole in the USA that I love!...
©Joe Maverick 1-6-2011Copyright)
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