THIS BRUSH THAT ONCE YOU HELD
This brush that once you held,
No longer shall you hold again,
Smoothing your curls into satin tresses,
For from existence now forever gone,
Mere shadow of your presence left behind.
This brush that now remains behind, I hold so dear,
For in this hand I hold
That which your living hand once held.
Traced with the craftsman’s delicate finesse,
The tiny bivalve, tarnished by the hand of time,
Opens with a delicate click to reveal
The priceless treasures locked away within:
Twin memories of once upon a time, so long ago.
Conjured the palpable presence of an unseen hand
Brushing lightly like a whisper against the nape
As the thin-twined chain from behind is fastened
Suspending love’s memento from around the neck
Above the softly beating heart against the living flesh.
(©2015. All rights reserved)
Seurat’s “La Grande Jatte” image: en.wikipedia.org
This is what I like to call a “snapshot poem” – like a snapshot or an artist’s sketch used to capture the moment, but using words instead.
SUNDAY IN THE PARK
By Poetic Meditation
Lovers, uninhibited, stop to kiss;
Man’s best friend frolicking with a frisbee;
Pliant, green grass and bushy-tailed squirrels;
Oaks towering into the cloudless sky;
Sparrows singing with gusto overhead;
Picnic tables crowded with families large;
Blankets sprinkled with reclining couples;
Cars packed with church-goers go whizzing past.
Time hangs suspended in this oasis –
Paradise on this Sunday in the park.
AN ARTIST’S WISH
Oh, to paint the joyous beauty of this world
In all its brilliant hues and subtle tones –
From the tiniest, most delicate flower
To the loftiest, most majestic mountain.
Capture the dawn’s grandeur and evening’s glory;
The ultramarine of the deep, placid sea;
The lush, crimson velvet of rose petals and lips;
The rich indigo of a cold winter night;
The flaxen yellow of sun-ripened wheat fields;
The cobalt blue of a cloudless summer sky;
The luxuriant green of moss and forests;
The pristine white of glittering, moon-lit snow;
The cadmium yellow of the blazing sun –
To capture this beauty and share it with the world.
I had the opportunity to visit the City of Lights and did all the touristy things like go up the Eiffel Tower and literally jogged through the Louvre. Even had the chance to visit the Rodin Museum. Recently watched on YouTube a pieced-together video of someone’s visit to the same museum. It brought back a flood of fond memories and was the impetus for the following poem.
THE GREAT GENIUS OF RODIN
By Poetic Expressions
Sinewy muscles encased in marble
Emerging from its rocky grip,
Frozen timeless in mid-pose,
Living flesh transformed from lifeless stone –
The great genius of Rodin.
Because of Thanksgiving (I guess), PoeticMeditations has once again graciously allowed me to guest post my latest poem for which I am truly thankful. Not only that, I was also graciously invited over for a delicious Thanksgiving dinner for which I am doubly thankful for. Now that I’m stuffed, I’m seriously thinking about changing my nom du plume from “Not Really Struggling Poet” to “Not Really Struggling Stuffed Poet.”
BLACK FRIDAY MADNESS
By Not Really Struggling Stuffed Poet (formerly known as Starving Poet)
Grumbling and cursing, shouting and screamin’
Shoving and pushing to start the holiday season.
Losing one’s mind over insanely low prices.
Violence and greed are just two of many vices.
Queuing up early in the wee hours of the morn.
Once inside, bouncing around like kernels of popped corn.
Grabbed a flat-screen TV – have a bigger one at home.
One fell on top of a shopper and broke an ankle bone.
Don’t even know if I want it, but that’s not the point:
Can’t leave empty-handed after elbowing my way into this joint.
Black Friday marks the start of the season to be greedy.
Forget about the Salvation Army – it’s not about the needy.
Thank goodness for the retailers who want me to spend, Spend, SPEND.
No time to think about peace on earth and good will towards men.
(All rights reserved ©2014)