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Meta
Tag Archives: haiku
Tramp
Modeling tatters, some masks cannot conceal truth– the poor man’s Jesus.
Posted in Poetry, Uncategorized
Tagged beatific, clown, haiku, jesus, John Biscello, laughter, messiah, poem, Poetry, sad, sorrow, tramp
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Thomas Wolfe
Locomotive-brained, roar and let of angels blood– Tracks vetting heaven.
Posted in Poetry, Uncategorized
Tagged angels, haiku, Heaven, John Biscello, Literary, literature, locomotive, of time and the river, poem, Poetry, thomas wolfe, tracks
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Portal
Every portal an incubator for change– Time’s infinite jest.
Posted in Artwork, Poetry, Uncategorized
Tagged Artwork, choices, Giorgio di Chirico, haiku, infinite jest, John Biscello, painting, poem, Poetry, portal, surreal, the anxious journey
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TV
Mounting the sermon, woman channeling desire– High volume worship.
Posted in Artwork, Poetry, Uncategorized
Tagged Artwork, Cris Qualiana Basham, haiku, images, John Biscello, painting, poem, Poetry, sex, television, tv, woman, worship
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Constellation
Fixed constellation, modeling blank verse in white– Deep, airless quiet.
Posted in Artwork, Poetry, Uncategorized
Tagged Artwork, haiku, james macneill whistler, John Biscello, painting, poem, Poetry, solemn, somber, symphony in white, white dress, woman
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Sorceress
Budding sorceress, basking in a siege of text– long shadows at dusk.
Posted in Poetry, Uncategorized
Tagged dusk, haiku, John Biscello, poem, poet, Poetry, shadows, sorceress, spells, Sylvia Plath, twilight
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Glint
Star-rise, to the belt of dawn, we have been sworn in by Love’s chastened edge
Posted in Poetry, Uncategorized
Tagged chasten, cosmic, divine, glint, God, haiku, John Biscello, love, poem, Poetry, Stars
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Sylvia in Blue
Gauging twilight’s depths, the poet draws blinds to dream– Hope, worn to silence.
Posted in Poetry, Uncategorized
Tagged Blue, dreams, haiku, hope, John Biscello, lyrical, poems, poet, Poetry, sadness, Sylvia Plath, twilight
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Recourse
To fade, with no recourse, into the annals of unreality is to lose grip on Love’s touch, to raise cinema from warm ashes on a Sunday afternoon in autumn.
John Biscello 