"collaborates" poems
Prescient, her essence
Casts a demure persuasion,
Endowed with verve and vision;
Concept to consummation,
The serenely possessed,
Creator, originator,
Allusion to the eternal azure,
Logos of abstraction,
Word and image collision.
Tonal palette of faith infused reason
Beauty and sublimity,
Serve to season
Verse, canvas and film,
Mediating aesthetic, seminal senses blossom,
Lyrical each permutation,
Seeds of vibrant chroma diffusing the mystical.
Visage and hair, her figure haunted
With perfection - a work of Art
Nurtured and lived invocation,
The canon of taste;
Crystal for the *****
Devotional fragrance ,
Holistic ethos, melodic invention,
Animated, pure -
The embodiment of redemption.
Transcending form, parenthetically
(Merely) the decorative,
Allure, artistry and symmetry
Superlative complexity,
Her erudition satiates, supplanting
Winds of constructive banality.
Purveyor of an uncommon savor,
She collaborates in the peculiar
Pursuit and reward,
Encounter with depth, explored,
Human and divine, prosaic meets sublime
Igniting within an Eros
Passion for truth, being and Telos.
Visionary of grace and peace
Transforming our earthbound dissonance;
Our caprice,
Hope and abundance, the myth of scarcity,
She narrates the Good.
Pen, lens, color and stage
Vulnerable, unrepressed, effusive
Romantic articulation,
The reservoir deep,
Innately primed conduit of Love.
Beyond plebeian, cosmetic, the trite
Woman of substance, pulchritude
And delight.
Effervescent - her smile exquisite,
Eclipsing suffering,
Wordless expression, understood language.
I am transported, my imagination replete,
Sonya Rose -
Art personified; unabridged, complete.
©2008 & 2013 W.S . Warner
Mar 28, 2013
Mar 28, 2013 at 12:28 PM UTC
My dear old pain is in his death bed
and mourning comes in a haste
sits by my side, sheds some tears
Pats me on the left shoulder
Time flies by, old fellow
and we have to make it quick
so brisk do her tears trickle down
the weight lifted off her chest
by the invisible hand of time
the foe she shuddered to confront
But I hold my beloved pain by the hand
plant a mouthful of dry kisses on his lips
those he splashes with his tongue
Those that fan my fire with urgent pleas
But the scent of his evaporating blood
collaborates with the callous grasp of mourning
and the two unlock our burning lips
Now ruffled with the absence of my beloved pain
I stand back, to bid the mourning farewell
and dig my chest deep enough to bury
all the love I had for the gone soul
of my beloved pain..
Sep 6, 2019
Sep 6, 2019 at 5:26 AM UTC
Smoke collaborates in the air
slowly, silently suffocating
mezmorized by its beauty
get near and be burned
it lasts long, both pain and pleasure
searching for someone tp bring pain to utmost measure
only the brave and strong can defeat this knight
but so easy and simple, for its only a light
blow, blow till your very last breath
trying to defeat it with everything you have left
blow, blow keep on breathing
dont loose your breath
keep on breathing
dont loose the fight. dont let it take over
blow blow with all your might
dont give up, cause it will take your life
once its gone, the pain isnt over
‘your left in the dark, with no direction, with no light
left in the dark, but youve won the fight ?
keep,keep, keep going back, back to the lighter that ignighted that light
once your breath is caught and youve got control
you start again unaware of your morals
you get close and you get burned but youll never know
for you have not yet learned.
Oct 21, 2012
Oct 21, 2012 at 10:26 AM UTC
Absorbed by the dreary remains
Of a web of circumstance,
You fumbled in the dark for a door,
An exit strategy.
Whether "can't" or "won't", it's clear you don't understand these tears -
Well, each tells a story of its own:
This one's for best, but never enough -
That one's for brightest, but never on show.
It's a sorry series of unfortunate events,
A spidery path of ups and downs.
Reflective to sensitive others,
They remain opaque to you.
Then the world collaborates,
Confers and corroborates.
The domino network forms a chain,
A bridge to distant decisions.
So long a life donated to the service of man,
Thinking the weight of the world
Rests on two shoulders.
Now, finally. A man. Donated to life.
Dec 29, 2011
Dec 29, 2011 at 4:33 AM UTC
An unknown artist's heart speaks on this subway wall
my mind drifts to the scene of creation, possibly this:
in amazement I look at that cat,at my face she looks up
and understands, this feline inaugurates the incidental show
of spontaneous art, at this street, just waking up shedding sleep
a ball collaborates with her,bouncing around with such verve,
spreading cheer,wholeheartedly, so strange for an object like it
which is not something even intended by anyone
Art has a right to happen,
like this, the morning sun, by nature, provides support,
from a long, long distance, the effect electrifies the scene
the cat, looking up by the magic of the moment,sees rays of sun
filtering through the foliage,can she imagine the distance
sun rays travel, to play with her, with such grace?
A lonely man, captures the scene,as a graffiti, within engraved,
one can imagine from the way he looks pleased,
don't you miss the mixed up pigments on his fingers,
unmistakable glee divine of an underground artist
decidedly flashes across his face, not for him,
but to express the pain unmitigated, all through his life
he'll pack his things,stuff in a small bag and leave this place.
A moment of exhilaration for many, when they see
his essence, spread across the subway train, in colors of protest,
rooted in his mourning art,experience of the hour created,
yes there are consequences for the art,the cat, the illuminating sun,
the onlookers around, including me,are not to be concerned,
only he and his brothers in art, taking part in this attack
for him, this moment of enlightenment,is reward enough
for all the adventures, he had undertaken till now.
Mar 27, 2015
Mar 27, 2015 at 4:04 PM UTC
She sits silent
as night collaborates
cursive wind to spoken pines.
Pearl moon silent
she is the main attraction
radiant dream, dark angel lust
thirsting for every eye
to stare
and burn
for the fortune she hides
as her naked pearl shine
illuminates forest wonder.
She will glaze the ice
scurry her light
in ways
that trap your tongue
around the rutilant jewelry
you wish you could wear
leaving night to worship
her perfect crisp blaze
as your enamored pen
falls into a coma
too deep
to speak out.
Her silence is another world
only imagination understands.
Apr 25, 2017
Apr 25, 2017 at 2:58 PM UTC
~~¤~~
I spill my ink on a sheet
But all I can see is red
In shape of hearts
Even my mind collaborates
With my emotion
Brain and heart in unison
Singing same song
Painting same image
I always want to make
A love note for you.
~~¤~~
Oct 21, 2015
Oct 21, 2015 at 1:05 AM UTC
When I pulled my hand from the spaces of the in-between,
lights danced in the pattern of another hand.
But she was not confused by this, as it had happened to her
and also to her of the other hand.
That's when the universe really began to laugh outloud,
and right then we two she and I
in the kitchen
wow
Apr 14, 2023
Apr 14, 2023 at 5:05 AM UTC
It's not that I miss you
I miss your scent
I miss the way it wraps me up, tucks me in
I miss your skin
The way it collaborates with mine
To make what we know as a beautiful masterpiece
The map of you and I
I miss the trails that lead us to sleep
The roads that we don't remember taking
Until we doze off to our final destination
Ultimately being morning
I miss the smell of nostalgia
The collaboration of skin
But I don't miss you
Jan 6, 2015
Jan 6, 2015 at 11:34 PM UTC
She turns a blank paper
Into a marvelous piece of art
When her pen collaborates with her heart
Worst's becomes better
And as she tell prose
She use metaphors of universe
Beautiful like a wild rose
Diving minds into diverse
Magnificent land of her heaven
She accelerated the time when
Sorrows give an innocent soul lament
And though the world has no fair judgment
She wanted to make a world just for all
Even in her own poetry, she could fall
The outskirts of town will have a little
Taste of hope as her heart gets brittle
She realized she doesn't write poetries
For everyone, she designed short stories
With a fair, happy endings
Jul 8, 2018
Jul 8, 2018 at 9:15 PM UTC