Fine strokes, evoking beauty upon life's canvas.
The Grand Master painting with steady hand
"scapes" of forest trees or sand on teeming seas.
Each dip into the palette He chooses
will not lose its vibrancy or vitality. Scenes
of greens and golds and untold wondrous
hues fills the skies and the beholder's eyes
with life's true majesty. With great Mastery he
fills his brush of fine Sable; in each careful stroke
He is able to capture all that His eye envisions.
© JPW - 2014
Showing posts with label Robert Lee Brewer. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Robert Lee Brewer. Show all posts
13 February 2014
26 September 2013
20 September 2013
The Grand Illusion
"So if you think your life is complete confusion
Because you never win the game
Just remember that it's a Grand illusion
And deep inside we're all the same." ~Dennis DeYoung - StyxFor better or worse, we are what we are.
We can delude ourselves that we stand above the rest,
but our chests all hold the same heart;
from our start to the end, if it continues, so do we.
It isn't easy to be something we weren't meant to,
hell bent on superiority, but we all fall in the minority -
the people left behind to struggle to find the true meaning.
Existence with resistance is not living,
it is giving us a false sense of power, and it will
devour our spirit. Not by bread or the thoughts in his head
does man live. It is in giving each other a fair shake
that we take the most from how we live. No intrusion;
no Grand Illusion. Only a "family" conjoined.
A Grand Infusion of life!
© JPW - 2013
Mirage
and your heart believes that you
are seeing what it wants you to!
in misty faded wisps. You envision
beauty with beholding eyes, indecision
and your can swear her faces is
hidden in remarkable places.
you blame your meal, the light
and try as hard as you might,
You cannot replace her
and God forbid you deface her
her perfume, the smell of her hair
a gentle hand gracing your shoulder to repair
and you thought you could deal
with it, but you continue to feel
She is right here,
and you’re not clear
you, the task of waiting till mourning is daunting.
You reach to touch what is not there, leaving you wanting.
© JPW - 2013
18 September 2013
Free Falling
Free Falling
Always lost in love
as I stand above
the sea,
waiting for a shove
to fly like a dove.
And me?
I fall to the cove,
and faster I move,
So free!
© JPW – 2013
I'm Not Here
Now you see me.
This sleight of hand demands
that I distract you so you
can’t see what matters,
my patter will lead you;
deceive you! Your focus
on my hocus pocus is key.
But, it’s me who holds the magic
and it is tragic that I can control
your very soul! Watch my hands
and you’ll understand. Now you see
me; now you don’t! My abracadabra
makes me invisible; a great illusion!
This sleight of hand demands
that I distract you so you
can’t see what matters,
my patter will lead you;
deceive you! Your focus
on my hocus pocus is key.
But, it’s me who holds the magic
and it is tragic that I can control
your very soul! Watch my hands
and you’ll understand. Now you see
me; now you don’t! My abracadabra
makes me invisible; a great illusion!
© JPW - 2013
17 September 2013
Little White Lai
At Poetic Asides by Robert Lee Brewer, Robert offers the poetic form, Lai. About it he writes:
"This time, we’ll be writing the lai, a nine-line French form that utilizes the following “a” and “b” rhyme scheme: aabaabaab. The “a” rhyme lines have five syllables, the “b” lines offer two."
Poetic Truth
When poets brainstorm
they look for a form
to try.
And just when they’re warm,
they fail to conform
and sigh.
Nine lines are the norm
attempting this form,
no Lai!
© JPW – 2013
Discontented Winter
He stood by the trees
with snow to his knees
all white.
And the winter breeze
blew and made him freeze,
all night.
When he’d start to sneeze
he gave his disease
a fight!
with snow to his knees
all white.
And the winter breeze
blew and made him freeze,
all night.
When he’d start to sneeze
he gave his disease
a fight!
© JPW – 2013
So, love conquers all?
We’re over the wall,
and win.
We hear the heart call
from way down the hall,
a din!
We waver; we stall,
It’s how hard we fall,
a sin!
© JPW – 2013
DreamEd
Edward had a dream
but what did it mean?
Who knew?
A part of a scheme
at twilight’s last gleam,
it’s true!
It just didn’t seem
that Edward’s bad dream
was through!
but what did it mean?
Who knew?
A part of a scheme
at twilight’s last gleam,
it’s true!
It just didn’t seem
that Edward’s bad dream
was through!
© JPW – 2013
12 September 2013
Fate and Destiny Do Lunch
“Glad you could meet me,
it always works out just how I’ve planned!”
“Oh really? What makes you think
my wish is your command?”
“Why do you think they call me Fate?
I knew you’d be here… and you wouldn’t be late!”
“You don’t control me, no how, no way –
I’ve a mind of my own! I still have a say!”
“I’m not so sure, if I must sound defeatist!”
“Go to hell, you overbearing elitist!”
They sit and stew, as that’s my hunch,
the way it goes when these two meet for lunch!
The waiter arrives, with menus he stands,
but Fate waves him off with a sweep of his hand.
“I’ve already ordered and I know what she’ll have.
She’ll eat the veal (she loves baby calves)”
“You see”, he explains, “I’m planned by divinity,
don’t question my motives, they’re from my mythology!”
Destiny smiled. “Excuse me, nature calls”
and she headed off for one of the stalls.
Fate sat there sipping his drink and awaiting his friend,
a relationship that was a dead end!
They weren’t really connected as far as he knew,
as through the front window a transit bus flew.
There lays the late Fate, now in celestial unity,
since Destiny influenced a great opportunity.
Fate met his fate, his appointment with Destiny,
cards fall into place through a deal of humanity
Now a table for one, but what the heck,
she didn’t even mind kiting the check!
From God to Godot
Sometime today.
Or tomorrow, I’m not sure.
He said he’d be here by then,
but when? We don’t know.
Philosophy escapes me.
It takes my mind away from
the task at hand. This grand
stand has me annoyed…
beside myself. And I’m a man
who prides himself
on being patient.
Okay, so I’m impatient
but he should be here!
Passers-by and posers,
Lucky asses and hosers …
I can’t remember yesterday.
Spare me your angelic
messengers,
my guess is I will die by my own
hand
if I stand here much longer.
My resolve is not as strong as
when I started waiting.
Sometime today.
Or yesterday? I’m not sure;
He said he’d be here!
I’ll wait until the end.
These shoes aren’t even mine!
© JPW – 2013
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Standing as three, worn and forlorn,
for at morning’s first light, your flight
will have flown. Had I thought goodbyes
would be this hard, I would have just
sent a card. I won’t get all fuzzy and warm,
that’s the coward’s way. I can’t get
all stiff and cold – no heart of tin,
what can I say? My head’s not in it. I rise,
I fall sleep and dream that this technicolor
existence would persist once we’ve kissed
and waved adieu. But it is you who is going,
your gingham flowing and throwing caution
to the wind, you set adrift. I’ll just make
the jaundiced journey back to where I belong.
The walk will be long without you beside me.
But you’ve hung me out to dry, so to hell
with goodbye! Hit the brick road.
That goes for your little dog, too!
I hate green!
© JPW - 2013
Poetic Asides by Robert Lee Brewer - "On the Road..." Prompt #238
Poets United: Poetry Pantry #169