Posted by: tsopr | May 11, 2012

Dr. Ernest Williamson III, American Poet and Artist

Dr. Ernest Williamson III has published poetry and visual art in over 365 national and international online and print journals. Some of Dr. Williamson’s visual art and/or poetry has been published in journals representing over 30 colleges and universities around the world. To visit Dr. Williamson’s website, click his image.                   

                                                  Featured Arts

In Conversation With My Arts

Remaining In An Acidic World

Three Moods Of Color

Featured Poetry

The Meanings of Karen & Betrayal

Karen waited by the bronze staircase
leaning with tears of memory
in Leeds over the brooks wading carelessly
like drunken lichens teasing the wavering tides of oceanic dances
but I still drop to drippings of gray matter
consumed by a romantic way
staying with me
not in reality
though quite keen
of touch
though touched
in memory
staid
static
alone in droning chants
of a latent love
of imaginings
forms by the same ole
staircase
the bronze one
at
home

The Lie of Virginity

even in my day the rain
rained
on the King’s parade
as seasons snuck with convenience inwardly like a puss filled sore
jumping in rhythm with arrogant gulps
as I felt patches of wet discontent
from the skies
muddle through the air
like the plight
in Noah’s
day
though I can never pen-point a season
of staid
sunlight
stretching from prowler to heavenly
sides
brilliantly kissing my face
for no humane
reason
I can meander my dreams
from victory to death to chance

As I smiled
utterance
slipped from my bruised lips
like liquid rainbows and largess
dipping
stretching
across my pale yellow teeth
before
I was laid
to
rest
I lived
though ever so often
gaps of dirt yearn for my obedience

In and Out of Exodus

spotted calf
next to the bated window
carpenters are needed today
in the red orange yelping brick yellow blocks
crumbling with ease and reluctance
pouncing along
me
I’m the prey
as the dead as the living
as those who adjust their ties
bonds and weak dollars fall with ash
manageable but directly in the midst of America
policies are beginning to end with plasticity
people become mannequins
as if they knew a nook was more than its facade
oddly enough
I’ve carried the spotted calf from Rome
and placed it next to my toothbrush
its bristles are misleading
clean looking unused
lying
and tempting me
to let
it
be
alone

Eve of Day

I never wanted to work
for money.
What is the point of swelling knee caps
grinding on joints
dribbling aches
as routine?

Glib and dour,
all the meaning of life is frayed
stubble for philosophy.

I never wanted to work
for fame.
I have no cadence in mind.
Moments sift sands with broken tusks;
There is no rainbow overhead.
Am I just old smattering
so much as to fade
into black and white?

All the meaning of magic is gone,
dust for ontology
though points converge at times
on maps.

Thoughts coming together in words
are as pallid as a gray rainstorm
hiding from miserable curiosities

and now that I think of tomorrow
I am glad and drenched.

A Fallacy of Comfort

even if your gray spots are cancerous
I can lift a balm unto your painful skin
planting mental love bits and kisses on every bump
I could freeze your tears with a bottle of red champagne
or I could sing with a cackle and pulse with flowers of imaginings
landing in your trembling hands
all of these offers I have to give
but I can’t continue to tend to you now
because as I look in the cracked mirror
dancing with romps caused by sexual agreement
beneath our apartment floor
and hopefully beneath their precious
ceiling
wall

A Perpetual Occurrence

ever-present Calypso dancing
in the belly of condors
wading with saliva
unction leading with turf
football curtails science
again
we hold on to American
soil
as it burns
hot
smoldering
as satanic rites
leaving poets with broken fingers
bleeding over keyboards
seething with soot
gray red and hot
pink
flamingos yelp and tilt towards
ground
but in the belly of condors
life has grown again
so we write again
until the wings of mighty fowl
lay in cruciform
in the hostel
citadel
over and under the fruited plain

Copyright © 2012 Dr. Ernest Williamson III

Advertisements

Responses

  1. Congratulations to Dr. Ernest Williamson III for being featured on this beautiful informative website. Powerful, but gentle words bringing the reader a new understanding to the word ‘poetry’.

    Sincerely,
    Rhoda Galgiani, Poet
    LI, NY


Leave a Reply

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

Categories

%d bloggers like this: