Menno Krant's Cat
Mister Menno is playing
With a polydactyl cat
They both the rarest of breeds
Are do such without trying
Possessing unique dexterity
Demarking originality
God broke their elegant mold
There are no copies
She is at his easel impromptu
Chasing oily slippery cherry
Furtive follow for their forage
Flowing frantic feather frenzy
As his paint brushes
She brushes
Lunges violent
Leaping luscious
There is grace
Bewildering beauty
Prolific peculiar proclivities
Affinity between
Their very own and mutual
Pristine primeval sensibilities
They are purring perfect
Magnificent exquisite
Dancer-Painter symbiosity
They sweep stride brush bold beholding
Yet they are oblivious mutations enraptured
Supernatural organic process
Muted in their understandings less stated
Incomparable magnificent mutual organics
Original exclusive castings
copyright Randy Resh 2008
poem by Randy Resh
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Related quotes
Reflexes
I just gush about you melt
Semi-circle cannot help
Call it reflex impulse
That crumbles oblivion peripheral
There is none other like you
There is not one other
as you
There are no others conceivably who
Claim focus
most magnificent physics
copyright Randy Resh 2008
poem by Randy Resh
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A Poet Should Be
A poet should be romantic as spring
chocolate and cherry
mellifluous honey
drinking day-lit blossoming
Yet a poet should be
suspicious jaded wary
deepest indigo sour wine poison
ice blister winter night scathing
A poet should be loving
beyond bewildering
passionate so jealously
A poet should be spiteful
boisterous unbecoming
belligerent as unseemly
A poet should ever enjoin
engage the reader
emphatic empathic
paving pathos
ever so eternal
most intimate
enduringly
copyright Randy Resh 2008
Futureale Magazine June 2009
poem by Randy Resh
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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WriDiNg Desk
She is at her writing desk
saddled-up work for scribing
spectacular image stories
poetry
....mmmm...
wet ink for toil's oiling
plumes of fumes
creative lubricant
all pervasive seeping pen entrant
...looms
anchor heel poise movement steal steel
thoroughbred riding for enlivening
I the imp glint mischievous
under her desk
state of anticipatory unrest
calling dampened pressing panties
delight threshing inspiration squealing
She profuse perfume pen princess
unveiling and revealing
mirth magnificent addressing
most magnificent tread punch rocking
heave so thrust for subtle
then plenty
undulate galloping
and it is my duty
to keep her prolific
I shall keep my love moving
well lubricated loquacious
her poem's composition dynamic
mine hair for her rein steerage
she is curvy cursing cursive
modulate buckles squealing
model for our missives musing
all the right places
ssshhh....
huh! ! ! ! ...
we...
cc...
uuu
she
so the luscious
sensual ineffable compliment
trickster typing
rhyming timing
meter
we ride, buckle we...
uu
uuuu...
...mmmmm...
wriding rings of poetry
copyright R. Resh 2008
[rnd editing 2011]
poem by Randy Resh
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Taomonte
+AOMON+é
Empathy
intellectual understanding
resonant equity/in mutual identification with/concentric equivalent
compassionate emotional
sympathy
© 1998 Randy Resh
poem by Randy Resh
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The French Maid
She is cleaning again
feather duster in hand
Uniform tuxedo
fanning flourish feminine
She wears fishnets black
lacing satin spic 'n span
Skirting sleek stilettos
with delicate depurate diadem
She dusts lust for fuchsian
florid fine and flourishin’
Disinfecting drains unclogging
impeccable spotless sanitary she
We clean the floors doors walls
with window crevices uncovering
Reach revealing mirror ceiling
pristine sheen for floor board squeaking
She has me knees and hand solution
wash white knuckle squirting
Sweat succumb from such scrubbing
recovers numb of our rage reaching
Spot scrub smudge fastidious sponging
mine meticulous love
Immaculate spectaculate
cleaning lady consummate cathartic
Rigorous grinding intent for finishing
swipe smudge smear clear her
Surface sheen pristine polish shining
glimmer glisten glittering gleam
We are Mister and Misses Clean!
Lover's sanitation fresh
supernatural sparkling breath
I wipe her back neck perfect precious
mine lips her hips' lips
throat heart stomach
Mon chambermaid cheri she
magnificent as such mess undress
Arriving mirth meticulous Frenching
made of our own making
randy resh 2007
poem by Randy Resh
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Elegy
You are my living
elegy
Breathing beating beasting feasting
incantation bleeding
sound boiling to
heat becoming
LIGHT
you are my living beauty
you
yes, you
burst begetting brilliance
scintillant substance of quintessence
fetting my
realized actualized
unconscious
eidolON
Angel of the lord washing the dirt
from sun-burnt
FACE
We
we Are
living this
being this
beauteous elegy
fruitious monument of merriment
magnificent Magical melody
copyright Randy Resh 2000
poem by Randy Resh
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Appetites
And we so fever famished
baited breath
salivating
infectious inflectious delicacies
intonation modulation
appetites invoking
she is his for filling
swilling
fine drink
sumptuous ravishing
She drips olives calamari
Barolo wine
Stilton
Our parched palates
tongue
stoke smoked salmon spawning
loins rare sirloin
tartar oyster tang
we anticipate
such orgy
magnificent gorge
delirious feasting
our communion consuming
copyright Randy. Resh 2008
'The Dinner Jacket Magazine' 2009
poem by Randy Resh
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I continue to get further away from the usual painter's tools such as easel, palette, brushes, etc.
quote by Jackson Pollock
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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Broken Constellation
Star fallin'
Cast too fast
Far too sudden
Sullen
Open hand
Blows birthday candles
Wavering waving
Wonderin'
Copyright Randy Resh 2008
poem by Randy Resh
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Jewels Too
She is Red
Platinum aureate lighting
Aquamarine her subtle scheme
Grandiosity belie betraying
She wears matte for damp soft clothing
Jewels dripping through the trimming
She so unassuming She.....
copyright Randy Resh 2008
poem by Randy Resh
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Immortalize
So how shall we immortalize?
I ask her with this face
School-boy gleam giddy
Talent, potential
augmented with
her very own, “perhaps”
dangles for follow
Text
draw or paint for sculpting?
intimate as evasive I
literate searching
tug tension tearing
tension indecisive
lends word for earing:
She the Master ever in training
(dare I steal her word for ask?)
“Let us keep this moment for last,
suspending perhaps... “
copyright Randy Resh 2007
poem by Randy Resh
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Writing Day
She far watching me as I write
tapping these lines
ignoring side glances
It's now close to seven at night
and we have yet
to start breakfast cooking
My blinders are on kettle cold
only tepid thing
about us being
her first poet I am told
second artist
reassuring novice
But she likes to watch me working
comfort claiming
my mistress accepting
Today for grace a day writing
pulse permissive
as her shoulder tapping's
copyright Randy Resh 2008
poem by Randy Resh
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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The Elfin Artist
In a glade of an elfin forest
When Sussex was Eden-new,
I came on an elvish painter
And watched as his picture grew,
A harebell nodded beside him.
He dipt his brush in the dew.
And it might be the wild thyme round him
That shone in the dark strange ring;
But his brushes were bees' antennae,
His knife was a wasp's blue sting;
And his gorgeous exquisite palette
Was a butterfly's fan-shaped wing.
And he mingled its powdery colours,
And painted the lights that pass,
On a delicate cobweb canvas
That gleamed like a magic glass,
And bloomed like a banner of elf-land,
Between two stalks of grass;
Till it shone like an angel's feather
With sky-born opal and rose,
And gold from the foot of the rainbow,
And colours that no man knows;
And I laughed in the sweet May weather,
Because of the themes he chose.
For he painted the things that matter,
The tints that we all pass by,
Like the little blue wreaths of incense
That the wild thyme breathes to the sky;
Or the first white bud of the hawthorn,
And the light in a blackbird's eye;
And the shadows on soft white cloud-peaks
That carolling skylarks throw,--
Dark dots on the slumbering splendours
That under the wild wings flow,
Wee shadows like violets trembling
On the unseen breasts of snow;
With petals too lovely for colour
That shake to the rapturous wings,
And grow as the bird draws near them,
And die as he mounts and sings,--
Ah, only those exquisite brushes
Could paint these marvellous things.
poem by Alfred Noyes
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All But
they were all but
replicas inadequate
second rate jigsaw
compilations
fractured facet
amalgamations
finest mine
exquisite
you
the double split
three dimensional
original
you
apparit ion's aspirations
syllabaries' ideations
mine immaculate idealization
they were all but
R. Resh 2012
poem by Randy Resh
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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A toothbrush rush
Could I try to
Save self, save us, save the world?
Let's take one soft tooth brush
and start to clean own heart
of every dark spot,
or rust stain
or the mischievous thought
before it comes to be
a putrid mould.
Brush kindly
for rebel stains
that out comes not
in tears soak.
Put more energy,
one gram of salt
and bit more energy
rub well to truly clean
until becomes pristine.
Then go to those near by
with new tooth brushes
as humble gift
and teach them, show
how you have cleaned
own soul.
Then together
take more brushes
and start to clean some more
maybe the biggest dirt of world,
own violent mind, let the clean be done
kindly, by a homely toothbrush.
Then with a peaceful heart
Done to the people of entire earth
from the pit to the top
once brushed, gurgle
and also rinse the big mouth
We can then start
with all the other
things around
Hard to select
But let's start first
To get rid of our biggest s...t
Lets make the world as well as we,
...nuclear...
Free.
Peacefully, with patience
let's give our earth clean
Love.
poem by Elena Sandu
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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Nap Time
Your poet kisses
poems received in gratitude
for now, he naps
dreaming placid
facets you
shhh...
all is quiet
in torrent ridden
Toronto
he naps,
you his mind
island before
the rushing of hours
shhh...
you the warmth
still
so very gentle
copyright Randy Resh 2008
poem by Randy Resh
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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I think the work that they do and the style of 3D graphics is absolutely fabulous and I think it's a great brush to use for some stories. And there are other brushes that I think are exclusive to a different kind of story.
A Shopkeeper’s Story
I sell one bristle brushes. People
seeking two bristle brushes I send
to the guy on Amsterdam, who’s in a rush.
I may have one customer a year
for my one bristle brushes, a one-eyed
lover of tanagers, she may have
one dollar to spend in the moment
light’s neither day’s or night’s,
but one’s where infinity begins. Whoever
she is, she’s always painting barbules,
I’m always thinking, no one will notice
that they notice this, that her tanagers
move, that everything’s alive. We talk
care and feeding of the one
bristle brush. Care exists. I thrive.
Love And War
Splaying fingers part
Peace Sign over lips
Breaking the seal
I
Thumb my tongue
With you at war
copyright Randy Resh 2009
poem by Randy Resh
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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While Hair Brushing
Juliette drags the brush
through her hair you have
to brush it at least one
hundred times her mother
had said years ago and say
a prayer each time you get
it through and maybe God
will bless you and as she sits
and brushes her hair she
remembers her mother standing
over her when she was a child
and the hair was as long then
as it is now and oh God she
says how I hated it the knots
and tangles and the number of
times I used to cry each time
she pauses in front of the mirror
the brush held mid air sometimes
when she brushes her hair and
stares in the mirror she sees him
there looking at her as he did back
then watching her every move
his dark eyes greedily drinking
her in and once he placed his
hands around her waist and kissed
her neck how she cringed his spittle
still there her uncle his breath his
hands touching always when she
was alone and once when undressing
he came in and stared and said he
thought she was becoming a beautiful
young girl now she brushes her hair
again the brush stiff and heavy gripped
in her hand and as she stares into the
mirror heavy with times and care she
thinks she sees him still staring still there.
poem by Terry Collett
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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