Details |
Jc Brul Poem
charcoal grey horizon~
on the rusty cast iron bench
my old self sits in pensive mood
beside the lake beneath December sky
the wayward wind as it teases my hair
whispers melodies from long ago~
that breath echo in the air
the echo reverberates ~
weaving fragments into vivid voices
and symphonies of yesteryears
my grandma's lullaby
our high-school graduation song
then tender laughters
of children at play fill the air
then comes the echo
of my father's sobbing voice
as he handed me to my groom
on that Saturday afternoon
whilst the organist played
the Wedding March by Mendelssohn
as the echo fades
and turns tenebrous twilight
into enchanting ebony evening
I look around ~
the coffee shop behind me
inviting for another cup
whilst the coffee on my lap
gets colder and colder
yet not as cold as the winter chill
perching inside of me
Copyright © JC Brul | Year Posted 2024
|
Details |
Jc Brul Poem
midst the bosom of a once bountiful farm
lies the graveyard of my ancestors~
the gush of tears that flowed here- only the wind knows;
the willows by the brooks~ are barely there,
and those who survived have so many stories to tell.
still flowing- the Vito river
despite so many summer drought
still limpid on its march to the sea
whilst faded on its parched sands
my whilom friends' footprints~
who ran so fast that time
until youth came elusive in their eyes
the placid breeze now echo
nostalgic reminiscence
of a once warm abode...
oh, how time devoured the dainty dreams we built
how time entombed unspoken anguish
on beloved ones' eternal repose...
how time like wind teased our midnight lamps
and yet we lived the night like day~
with so many songs to sing...
with so much love to share...
when taste of life was only sweet.
oh, how we passed the time away~
unmindful of its ticking...
unmindful where did it go
now, as I stand ~
in front of these forlorn tombstones
in my hands are stone tablets
that bear the names of two people
who were once a slave of time;
in peace, they slumbered~
for they finally conquered,
the unconquerable.
Copyright © JC Brul | Year Posted 2020
|
Details |
Jc Brul Poem
Stir my moonlight coffee
with your freshly dipped brush
in bright yellow ochre ~
I will not complain.
Sprinkle pigments from
from your pallets
on my unflavoured coffee~
I will not complain.
Even when
your indigo eyes
spill Prussian blue
to veil my night sky~
I will not complain.
Come sit with me
share this coloured coffee
on this café terrace
where unfinished canvases
lean on metaphoric walls,
where unwritten poems
bathe beneath starry nights.
Copyright © JC Brul | Year Posted 2025
|
Details |
Jc Brul Poem
Beside the sea I wait~
the dreamy dawn to shine
and paint horizon's hue
in tawny, taupe and teal
unveiling vivid view.
Beside the sea I wait~
the early birds in flight
arching like tiara
making sky a painting
of placid aurora.
Beside the sea I wait~
the whisper of the breeze
soaring as sunshine sings
her stellar symphony
reviving lost musings.
Beside the sea I wait~
the crashing of the waves
sparkling like sunlit snow
as they return to shore
my love will, too, I know.
Copyright © JC Brul | Year Posted 2022
|
Details |
Jc Brul Poem
Behold, oh my beloved!
Is there a hidden care
you would like to share,
with your not so gentle gaze?
Repudiating caducity,
your eyes portray
sustained excitement ~
still and restrained
whilst behind you
an arabesque of phantasmagorical
make-believe.
Behold, oh my beloved
the vortex of colours
surrounding you
entwine a paradigm
of that starry night~
and as i look into its cosmic glow
I fall in love with you.
22 May 2022
A Briand Strand Premiere Choice Poetry Contest
6th Place
Notes:
Like Rembrandt and Goya, Vincent van Gogh often used himself as a model; he produced over forty-three self-portraits, paintings or drawings in ten years. Like the old masters, he observed himself critically in a mirror. Painting oneself is not an innocuous act: it is a questioning which often leads to an identity crisis.
( Credits: Google Arts and Culture)
Copyright © JC Brul | Year Posted 2022
|
Details |
Jc Brul Poem
Facing the silent sea,
he sits in silhouette
against the light
of the scarlet sunset.
In stillness
of stolen gazes,
at seagulls taking flight
he hums~
geriatric euphony.
His languid voice
soars like a delicate dandelion~
and finally finds me.
8 July 2020
1st place
STRAND COMPLETELY NEW(6),any form,any theme
Contest Judged: 7/8/2020 2:38:00 AM
Sponsored by: Brian Strand |
Poem of the Day
July 9, 2020
Copyright © JC Brul | Year Posted 2020
|
Details |
Jc Brul Poem
first dance
deep trance
love young
just sprung
controlled
untold
one day
in May
from sir
fresh fleur
9 February 2022
A Strand ( 1068) Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Brian Strand
1st place
Copyright © JC Brul | Year Posted 2022
|
Details |
Jc Brul Poem
he said, "I am an ordinary stone" ~
in one nocturnal rendezvous
and vanished in sky's tenebrosity
before her hands could reach
to embrace him ~
a gentle gypsy wind
dulcified her dolesome heart
and set her to slumber
a shooting star arrowed
in elegiac ebony evening~
and as she opened her eyes
she found a stone that dazzled
midst the darkest night behind her
10 May 2022
A Brian Srrand Premiere Choice Poetry Contest
8th Place
Copyright © JC Brul | Year Posted 2022
|
Details |
Jc Brul Poem
You came like rain I waited since twilight;
How would I deeply say with tenderness?
the way you filled my life with cool delight,
Like a touch of raindrops in the wilderness.
You gaze like ivory clouds at noontime;
How would I deeply say with so much glee?
the way you touch my heart with love sublime,
like a kiss of cloud's silhouette in me.
You smile like crescent moon in summer nights,
How would I deeply say with hopeful heart?
the way you soothe my soul in soaring heights
like a soft moonglow that shall not depart.
Copyright © JC Brul | Year Posted 2020
|
Details |
Jc Brul Poem
A lonesome magpie~
perching on a forlorn wooden stairs
on a snowcapped mountain side
spells serenity in the day light.
The barn house reflects
the pale lavender shadows~
a soft blend of chiaroscuro;
The thickened snow in impasto
reminds me of winter daydreams
of my love so far away.
The hanging frosty pearls
on dancing dainty twigs~
sparkling like chandeliers
in ancient sanctuaries;
Like the diamonds I keep
as a symbol of his promise
that one day soon~
he will come back to me.
3 February 2021
Notes: The Magpie (French: La Pie) is an oil-on-canvas landscape painting by the French Impressionist Claude Monet, created during the winter of 1868–1869 near the commune of Étretat in Normand.
(Photo and info credits to Wikipedia)
Copyright © JC Brul | Year Posted 2021
|