Translate

Showing posts with label Abstract. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Abstract. Show all posts

Saturday, December 14, 2013

A Koch Snowflake

-https://www.khanacademy.org/

In the snowy downfall, flakes create a stream of white,
Which washes away all the dark visions of midnight.

The alabaster snow has made its silent descent,
From the vast silver sky, through which it was sent.

The frozen sleet wraps around the ground,
A blanket covers, but no warmth is found.

The atmosphere is amplified, by tones of ivory;
On this newly dawned day, in this modern city.
This environment – a pristine sheet of fresh purity;
Yet, untouched, unblemished, presented perfectly.
The eyes watch the passage of time, and each falling flurry;
The scene transposes before them, in a rapid, flashing hurry.

The dust and gravel falls slowly and softly, in the arid weather;
Magical drifting downward, each speck is a descending feather.
Precipitating particles, stream in motions, like the flow of the Nile;
And float below, to the river bed, where they multiply and pile.
Grains of sand, are creating small dunes, which mostly lie inert;
But sometimes, they dance actively, in the winds of the desert.

All around are infinitesimal powdery pyramids;
Multiple formations, composing veritable myriads.

Conclaves and oases litter the Egyptian landscape,
Providing refuges where one can make an escape.
Like city storefronts, safe heavens from blinding sandstorms;
Frigid, rigid grains which pierce the flesh, like stinging thorns.

Suddenly the environments of two – the divisor, and the dividend;
Form a quotient of one, with no remainder – together they blend.

On the face of New York`s blank slate, in the reticence;
Each passing soul leaves, remnants behind, an artistic imprint.
Each person’s paces lead off into various remote directions;
Creating an intimate web, a variety of distant connections.
To the pale hue, they add their own beautifully colored glint;
Shadowy traces, in debossed spaces – the evidence.

Stranger’s stories which end in unknown destinations;
Inscribed trails, to explore or ignore, on the concrete shore.
Each step relays, to an attentive observation, the moments of embossed tale;
The fables are, composed of figures and symbols, written in a glacial braille.
Décor is galore, adorned along this icy, wasteland’s floor;
Creative impressions remain, on the earthen foundations.

Each residual track is an unintended memento,
Each personal print is a measure, of a pacing tempo.

Revealing the natural artwork of humanity,
On a snowy canvas where all eyes can see.  

Footsteps endure (for a time), left behind like ancient sacred writing;
Deciphering the hieroglyphics, tells of adventures which are exciting.

Composed By: A. D.

Saturday, October 19, 2013

Annihilation Of Segregation

The mind is curious, as to how it should start?
What written descriptions should it attempt to impart?

So, the poetry ends up being begun, by outlining
The initial thoughts (which the mind thought).
The hands and ink are soon visually defining,
What the creative conscious, previously wrought.

The various universal ideas grow and slowly pile,
Delivered with a residue of restricted personal style;
To create a broad mosaic – composed of lyrical tile.

The collage contains a hint, of the hues seen
In the multiple faces (each tint), passing by the eyes.
Yet, all these superficial complexions – are a disguise
(All that appears perceptible, is a dream).

Just an archaic, ancient, outdated system of control;
A way for humans to draw barriers, to isolate – and separate…
To take both apples and oranges – fruit,
And overlook that both start with a root.
… To take the color of skin, sexual preference – and segregate.
Differences in the flesh, similarity in the spirit and soul.

Stepping back from the paper and individual face,
To admire the entire spectrum of the human race;
Beauty, allure, and absolute perfection is crystallized –
In every potential variation, which is possibly visualized.

Composed By: Andrew Drucker

Wednesday, October 2, 2013

Coalesce

Escaping the daily visual perception,
Into a realm of blue ink, we sink.
Changing the senses stations reception,
With incremental tunings, we rewire;
Not hoping to somehow inspire,
Another`s vision with each motion.
Each pigmented, embossed incision
Is: no more than a drop in the ocean.

The leaves in the sunlight and shade
Reveal the many different variations,
In the spectrum of green;
But
The galaxy - this far off glade,
Holds colors beyond present manifestations,
Accessible only when within a dream.

We entered the forest, as one;
When the initial conception,
Had for the first time begun.
We slept in the soft grass,
Drank from a cool flowing stream,
Experienced every delicious deception,
Of this far off place – so serene…
And, time would eventually pass -

Ever so slowly he became two
As each day, they both grew;
Till even the realm of reality.
Became an aspect of fantasy.

Composed By: Andrew Drucker

Wednesday, September 18, 2013

The Debate

Two poets were having a debate-
The first poet, told the second poet:

“To abandon the construction of rhyme
Is the same as poetic treason.
A destruction, the most profane crime;
I really see no reason.
The abstract allusions,
And hidden connotation;
Are annoying illusions,
Revealing only frustration.

“I am the enigma
Born in a bloody brook
My birth was a stigma
From the waters took
A swan becoming a duck…”
What the Fuck?
Look, metaphor is fine by me;
But without rhyme I`m not happy.

Metaphors are eclipses
If used just right
Add in an ellipsis
And turn out the light…”

The second poet responded, to the first poet:

“So you think that the abstract
Holds nothing of value?

Then your hands have never seen dawn
The light shimmering on a white sea
Never drifted on a motionless mirror
The ship creating ripples in it`s wake

Your mind has never tread across
A field, in the first winter snow
Leaving it`s imprints for eternity

Your heart is not a spaceship
Traversing zero gravity and
Surging through black matter
To find another universe and reveal
To the world, the evidence of it

Your eyes are blind to the invisible
Your ears are deaf to the silence
Your mouth is mute when you speak
Your nose can`t smell the scentless

Your feet are adorned with concrete
This ocean of poetry is vast
So I`ll just laugh as you fail
In attempts to replicate the messiah.”

Composed By: Andrew Drucker

Monday, June 17, 2013

Foreign Film

The cars pass submerged
Street lights on dirty walls
Cross walks filled with rats
Thoughts eat bread crumbs
From elderly brains.

Geometry
Trigonometry
Symmetry

Basketballs with squeaky
Sneakers run around the
Court, shooting meat
Into hung hampers

Multiplication
Division
Frustration

Cops with baggy pants
Patrol a corner, while
Protecting upright citizens
From gangsters in
Cars with Greek myths
On top

Addition
Subtraction
Abstraction

Dogs bark at each
Other while their owners
Wear leashes and
Sniff another humans
Butt. Bums give
Smelly business women
(And men) change
To buy soda. A
Child watches his
Mother cry as he
Pushes her down
The street.

Dreams
Reality
In-between

My notebook talks
About how great
The show is, as
I sit in the back
Of the theater
Eating kernels of
Ink

Composed By: Andrew Drucker