Posts Tagged ‘Vision poetry’

Vision Poems

March 27, 2018

What is a VISION POEM?
WARNING: This is not ‘Poetry 101’. This is advanced. Vision Poetry does not rhyme (most of the time), and it’s not what you are used to. If for any reason, after reading two or three of these short poems, you don’t ‘GET IT’; please, fold up the zine page , replace it on the stack where you found it, and slowly back away from your computer.

Now that we’ve gotten rid of the neophytes, let’s continue. Vision poems are part koan, part hallucination, part vision, slightly enlightening, and peppered with occasional eureka moments. They are word pictures, dreams, fantasies, jokes, lightning strikes, and kafkaesque situations. Read them with a sense of adventure. Then see if the startling images – somewhat like what a painter might see in his mind before beginning his new work – suggests anything deeper or more profound. Enjoy and let me hear what you think.

the white stones
began to float
rise up and
turn to stars

Year of the too close Moon.

My garden decided
it didn’t need me!

I imagined an orchard
in full bloom
and an orchard behind it
and an orchard behind it
and …

howling wind in a
haunted wood…

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Vision Poems

August 19, 2014

WHAT IS A VISION POEM? (intro from Musea issue on Vision Poetry)
WARNING: This is not ‘Poetry 101’. This is advanced. Vision Poetry does not rhyme (most of the time), and it’s not what you are used to. If for any reason, after reading two or three of these short poems, you don’t ‘GET IT’; please, fold up the zine page , replace it on the stack where you found it, and slowly back away from your computer.

Now that we’ve gotten rid of the neophytes, let’s continue. Vision poems are part koan, part hallucination, part vision, slightly enlightening, and peppered with occasional eureka moments. They are word pictures, dreams, fantasies, jokes, lightning strikes, and kafkaesque situations. Read them with a sense of adventure. Then see if the startling images – somewhat like what a painter might see in his mind before beginning his new work – suggests anything deeper or more profound. Enjoy and let me hear what you think.

 

the Priest wore
a robe of stars

she taped
an autumn leaf
to the middle
of every window

they named it
Renoir’s factory
two tall chimneys
pouring out smoke
no machines
empty rooms
except for his paintings
lining the walls.

they built a dome,
a clear amber dome,
over the roofs of the
seven churches.

Willie Loman passed Blanche Dubois
at the train station.

the labyrinth
of grey stone walls
had bas reliefs
of dancing divinities
with here and there
a high oil lamp
that bathed life
into the sculptures
as the flames flitted
across the figures

What do birds
think of angels?

horse turning around
Moon in the sky

I saw in the future
where they freeze their bird songs
and then thaw them out
in a most pleasing order.

Vision Poetry – Part 1 (reprint from the Musea Vaults)

January 14, 2013

My blog readers like the quatro short poems. See what you think about vision poems – poetry keeps developing. Here is the intro and first set of VISION poems.

——————————————————————————-

Readers, Welcome to an issue of Musea that is introducing a new type of poetry called “VISION” poetry.

WARNING: This is not ‘Poetry 101’. This is advanced. Vision Poetry does not rhyme (most of the time), and it’s not what you are used to. If for any reason, after reading two or three of these short poems, you don’t ‘GET IT’; please, fold up the zine , replace it on the stack where you found it, and slowly back away.

Now that we’ve gotten rid of the neophytes, let’s continue. Vision poems are part koan, part hallucination, part vision, slightly enlightening, and peppered with occasional eureka moments. They are word pictures, dreams, fantasies, jokes, lightning strikes, and kafkaesque situations. Read them with a sense of adventure. Then see if the startling images – somewhat like what a painter might see in his mind before beginning his new work – suggests anything deeper or more profound. Enjoy and let me hear what you think.

I had a nightmare
that I was trapped
in act two!

As twilight approaches
the sun dims
and the light in the upstairs window
comes on…

today
I passed
the garden
by

The eye chart had
made up letters!

X: How high can you count?
Y: Through the elevens.

I switched
to channel “X”
and I was
the TV
and they were
the watchers

I went ahead
and took the toothpaste
and added a year’s worth
to my brush

I watched aghast
as she rinsed out
the water bottle

Forest football

I had them build me
my dream house
and place it over
the river
I told them to add
extra bedrooms
for all the visiting
fishes


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