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These Free Verse Seasons poems are examples of Free Verse poems about Seasons. These are the best examples of Free Verse Seasons poems written by international PoetrySoup poets
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I count my walks through herbs and shells never knowing how old bones can be fleshed from a heart bound on scrolls of endings, and here I am among rows of an orchard… feet like dust sanded by twelve months of famine and feast ; somehow the maple boughs wither from the laundry of evenings' regret. Often times, like the gypsy rose, I climb into the lattice of my family tree smelling its tar and citrus that knit arms glossed by twilight's love, then raked by froths of autumn's debris. Closing a fence as another year shuts off, I am between silence and scream… eyes groaning with the music of an anonymous breeze sheltering a collected beauty of tragedy and the comedy of drama: trials pinned by veiled nights when kinship endures the flood of weather's hands. It is so, I mean, the certainty of taming the last ride before new seeds from a new year twirl upon unborn fruits… I disrobe the old bones to greet the unknown. .......................... ""In times of test, family is best." – Burmese Proverb Carol Eastman's Enter The Best of 2014 Contest by nette onclaud 7/14/2014
When the Flowers of Youth Fell Winter stayed late that year courting Spring with a fury. Beautiful gifts of snow and dazzling ice, he gave her. It was during such courtship I found myself lost -- adrift in a place that once was .... decades from this century. Where mud and blood held hands beneath duty and honour and kindred flowers fell to sounds of bugle and drum. Smoke arose through Spring's tears. Images of Blue and Grey pilfered my breath as cannons rained thunder upon the brave. How was this happening? This was not where I belonged! My time was not this place and I wanted to go home. Where Winter courted Spring and snowmen fell -- not flowers -- upon the muddy ground as snow reigned upon the brave. The smell of gun powder danced about my head and nose like spirits for the faint -- arousing life ... far from home. "Get down! Get down! Get down!" The half-crazed voice plunged me into the mud and blood and I lay frozen in fear beneath his weight ... and the cold. So cold, no hearts were beating, no breaths were being drawn, just the smell of sweat and blood. The smell of rain and death. Clutched tightly in his pale fist a tattered blood-stained note bore the words, "Please ... for mama ...." I tried but could not scream. And, I felt daylight passing .... As shadows took the brave, Winter's folly tamed sweet Spring with final coats of snow .... and snowmen fell -- not flowers. 3.08.2013 Deborah Burch
I was thinking of the seasons when suddenly i was reminded of you how you loved me and taught me all about the 4 seasons of you I was dormant in my ways confused by the meaning of the word content but like a SPRING downpour you drenched my thoughts and planted a seed in my soul then slowly my love for you began to grow Suddenly, in a blink of an eye our delirious passion was overpowering and explosive on-going, like a relentless SUMMER heatwave refusing to show any mercy But as time paced itself steadily on course you predicted the infectious novelty of my hungry desires would eventually come tumbling down like a leaf on a FALL tree once bright with color now, on the ground succumbing to its eventual fate of loneliness In the end no words were spoken just a heart that was broken... frozen, Like a twig brittle with frost lying in it's WINTER grave never to be part of something good again I was thinking of the seasons i was reminded of you how you used to love me and teach me about the 4 seasons of you!
Strange colored skies climb northernly this night Calling our future with wild deamons eyes Abscure as the creatures who answer the call Wild are the answers of the reasons and the faults Certain as the well swept winds Alluring in it's grasp fought negatively through single wins I pray twords the skies and it curdles and swims Thoughts twords the sun and it scorches my rims Carry me far enough I can be within your sights Stash us away and the sun will be bright Motors may break but oceans will be light I will stay on the coast and wait The award I will do is make the evening a minute late Parched is the gulf as the single minute breaks Great is the second docks a seperate mans gate The Earths crust slowly begins to crumble It quivers, then quakes, it slowly opens, the rivers break A star is born somewhere, a beautiful new star Great is the struggle, born from the heavens a small light it makes The new star pulls, it turns, then it feeds and it's fuel it burns Gently it orbits following all things it understands The new star bends it dances it stands Tancing outwardly as creations comprehend A continient wavers as the new star binds its brand It feeds off of our oceans as our tides wash in It goes just as softly forward and back As the rays of its placement barrow up to the sun We watch very carefully because it's damages are already done
A Summer To Remember Summer exhausted, the fall chill begins in those first days you and I fell into each other as water into the sea sunshine was you, light was all me Winter's snows saw us meet its deep cold a team that danced in that icy glory sweet ink wrote our special story Spring, our lives embraced a great renewal beautiful pictures sought we out tempting each into adventurous journeys Summer returned, I found your shadow had fled our love emerged from its sheltered cocoon seeking love anew, its past left dead R.J. Lindley
Autumn Colors Trees shake old cobwebs from their heads A kaleidoscopic parade of colors tumbles down Pretty reds and yellows, parasol shapes Parachute softly and collect in mounds Falling leaves that drift and cross our paths Brought on by climates cooler winds Leave the trees in all their majesty To become the magic of the season Created on 9/03/14 for Autumn Colors poetry contest
Her radiant beauty crested, wave ebbing, summer shakes her flowing green free of cooling rains; yet, stubbornly they linger, gathering in misty gray garlands about her peaks. Decay's first browns creep among the flowers, drab omens of pallid landscapes soon to come. Vain summer! Water mirrors she left scattered reflect from every concave surface of the ground. Fearful of the season's ending glory, she reaches for a gown only a queen could wear-- parading field and forest in cascading folds of crimson velvet. Brilliant oranges, scarlet, gold weave her leafing harvest crown; Her saffron slippered feet trip down a path of aging green. Even the moon grows large with October envy, but he cannot out do her flamboyant display; his grand act only lasts a moment compared to summer's pretentious autumnal show. She hangs on, only brown remaining, wringing out every vestige of our praise... until winter comes, ice bragging, to steal the last away. August 28, 2014
Autumn Child She'd rather when the season changes from humidity to serendipity to make discoveries at a turn when the autumn leaves fall to the ground creating a tapestry of colors in an unbroken sequence A chorus of red, green and browns blending together in natures song as in a round to greet the new weathers chill She is galvanized by the change of gaiety and glee but it's not just for her it's also for me. January 4, 2015
There, just beyond the door yard, she wanders and I, hiding behind the curtain, catch glimpses before she disappears up the avenue that winds through the apple orchard. Each morning I watch for her as she walks aimlessly. Sometimes she steps across her previous step and spins, dragging a broken branch she found, and with her eyes closed---smiles. On occasion she willingly falls, lying there, still smiling and staring dreamlike at the branches now laden with white blossoms and the busy humming of bees. I wish I could know her thoughts-- but then, I fear they might be of some other love instead of the wonder of this perfect spring day, or, maybe she dreams of that love that she hasn't yet found. Perhaps tomorrow I'll stroll---and say "Hello"?
Anticipating Spring Dear January, Wrap me in your saddest morning I implore you. The complex triumph of green acres waits to be seeded, and later thrashed and sorted as wheat for barter. When the spring is waiting all seeded for lily blossoms under the snow, fertilize with want that wants not and need that needs not. (Only, my love, forget me not.) The birds will fly in from Florida anticipating spring and avoiding a hurricane because they know better than we who are composed mainly of lesser sensitivity. What waits to be born from this harsh winter? Nature will surely bloom as a fabric woven like a Navajo rug to comfort the evening with its beauty. Mystical mornings will take the traveler to some paradise where the sun is always rising and the air is cool in summer and the dew is on the mulberries and all the berries are ripe like dew. I ask only my love that you forget me not when the sky turns overhead to a warmer slant and rays blind the eyes from all memories past and all contemplation of futurity. Live now. Love now. Feast now upon the beauty before your eyes, before your sleeping evenings, and before your awakening when dawn and dew are breaking.
I can feel him in my bones. A chill has descended on my world I can see him in the breath that forms a mist before me. I can hear him in the wind that whispers to the pines. Barren trees flex their skeletal fingers While wasted leaves plummet to their death. His presence is betrayed. I am not alarmed. I have met him before. We oft have locked in struggles between seasons, I have fended off his frozen arrows Beaten back his snow filled storms. Broken his sword of ice and forced surrender. I have left his broken spirit To wither in the pristine fields of spring. Knowing that his soul has not been vanquished. On the morrow, the ghost of winter will return And I, like a worthy foe, Will wait to challenge him again Bob Quigley
Midfall and nearly all the trees Stand brown as broken sticks Against a sky of impossible blue And I in shirtsleeves a-walking go, With love and longings my companions Kicking through the drifts of colored shards Fallen with another Summer's stealthy fading Feeling and marveling at this piece of heat That dropped unnoticed from her pocket. I could believe today In an America unnamed, A place full of wild things and untamed peoples A place where Spirit spreads To ride the clouds And sing its songs unhindered. Nature has let down her locks today; And who will look on her And let themselves be consumed, entranced By the beauty that lives on in spite of our assaults - Who will be distracted by the miracles we move through, Feel the surge of the sea of life all around us, Hear the whispered prayers In the windsigh of the sleeping trees And watch the night come on Announced by the rose glow behind the thumbnail moon - Who will stand amid such things, And not put aside for the moment Those little cares we circumscribe our lives with, And stand amazed to be here breathing, Alive to feel how loving-close Infinity holds us and claims us for its own; Surely, not I alone. I rest a hand on my sleeping child's chest; Feel the heart fluttering beneath the skin And I can sense a great wheel turning. I wander out in the still warm darkness That follows this day, To look up at the starstrewn sky And see that great wheel begin its turning, And stand amazed to be here breathing. And stand, amazed to be.
summer. in your shyness this year. you barely peeked out your door. the days where so cool at times. my thermostat, insisted, i switched it to heat. my air conditioner was in therapy. mostly ignored it had lost its self esteem. still i was always faithful. hand in hand we took walks together, my friend. walks i cherished. as you ready to migrate perhaps to florida you know you will be missed. if nothing else for the long days you put in and how you never complained. autumn you know is already here. it is great to spend time with you both. she is magnificent this year. forever youthful in her quilted shawl of startling mixtures. crayon shades of auburn, sunny oranges special new yellows, reds and purples. let's celebrate with bonfires, huge marshmallows, single spiked. shish kebobs on branches lent. the children will be crazed playing in piles of pillowed leaves. oh my oh my. the parties autumn will throw what would childhood be without summer, autumn, and your siblings? come those indian days don't forget summer don't forget you'll visit. oh the stories and laughs we'll share. how seduced we are every year. with summer at an end with autumn just at hand then summer again and back to autumn as if we were on a carousel. September 8 2014 Summer's End Contest Kelly
Death--- the last sleep? No the final awakening. ---Walter Scott I am merely a thousand of winds that blow. You will see me in the winter's snow, a glinting diamond glow. Fleeting sunlight, I will become that lingers and glows on the grain. I will soon become the gentle autumn's rain that washes away your sorrow. I will meet you a gentle rush in the sweet mornings hush. I will live on and not sleep for I will not die. In the night when you feel alone I will not be gone for I will become the soft night stars glow. For I will continue on to a plane beyond the windowpane. You should not weep for I do not sleep. For I shall not die but live on till we meet once more. This is not about me so no concerns this is for a friend.
Winter, a sad season, cold, foggy, but it makes you think. It makes you think of the past, the present, the furture. The best moment to think..... is during the winter and when you see that light out of the window. It's the sun..... a ray of hope. That brings more questions then a mind could answer.
The icy wind blows through blushing our cheeks, Eyes stinging and watering, and mouths tinted purple. Snow flurries whirl around us nipping at our ears; making our breath white and heavy. So, we pretend to smoke. But wide grins give away our game With hearts purging laughter, We look long at each other, Eyes glinting sincerely happy sighs. City sidewalks stretching out Before concrete winterlands, And you and me walking, Holding and swinging our hands.
I move lightly at sixty, a little less than the max. Any faster, and the sunflower shells I spit blow back in my face, and any slower and the driver behind becomes too distressed. I move lightly at sixty, homeward through the rural landscape, past barns and combines, engine humming, without straining, secure that I need not be anywhere, or anything, but myself. I move lightly at sixty, through the longer shadows of fall, short days and warm afternoons, trees variegated with the leafy nostalgias of the year past, and the years before. I move lightly at sixty, the old van's engine drones as I "OM", indistinguishable one from the other, both well worn, and oblivious of the years we show. I move lightly at sixty, no longer with a need to lie, or prevaricate, in love with every woman I see, and no longer afraid to say so. I move lightly at sixty, in love with the journey, rather than the goal. In love with the moment rather than the hour and the need to mark it. I move lightly at sixty, bemused by public anger over a rappers words, knowing they are far less harmful than the blood shed in my time. I move lightly at sixty, ready to gear down if necessary, still able to speed up if needed to avoid the hazards of an overactive ego and libido. I move lightly at sixty, content to be alone, joyful to have company, regretting neither, thankful for old friends, and old loves. I move lightly at sixty, finding that not acting, is as important as the act, knowing that one can be undone, and the other, can't. I move lightly at sixty, like a comfortable breeze on a fall day, a thermal for a bird, uplift for a friend, a drying wind for a tearful cheek.
Tracing back… that is what I am doing now, just tracing back along this woodland path, in an attempt to grasp remnants of a time when I felt so alive, yet dying. Thoughts and memories, they fall like these leaves, a melange of confusion, beauty and frailty Swept away by the wind, scattered or swept into a pile, unified. Either way, they can be stomped on, brittle leaves crushed into a satisfying crunch. All around me, there's a profusion of vermilion, gold and copper but those reds have always been my favorite— so alive, yet can also mean bleeding. I see a pumpkin carved out, a creepy smile adorning its face A chuckle escapes from my lips, remembering that time when laughter lived in harmony with love. Now, I am not sure anymore… Because how can something that had so much hope, so verdant, change? I am a fool, for the answers are so obvious— I only need to look at these leaves. So much like our lives, these seasons… Not very long, I will be staring up at argentine skies. The thought of it gives me chills— I pray for spring. 09272011336p414
The great Serengeti's broad face lies in the African sun, dry, weathered, cracked, thirsty for the season.s tears Storm clouds gather on her brow like an old lady's curls Promises, promising An empty promise ...The rains are too late The children of the Serengeti lie down on her dusty bosom, never to rise again A desperate waiting fills the air At last, a single drop of rain falls on the delicate skin of the vast plain, then another and another There but for an instant, before it vanishes into the scorched earth Another drop, then ten, then dozens, then hundreds, until the broad face that is the Serengeti smears through the downpour Watering holes fill and breach, streams and rivers run like locomotives Mysterious fish pop out of the mud Sweet grasses leap up in the night Yesterday the majestic canvas was devoid of life Today, overflowing, a palette gorged with color and life… the cycle begins anew The Serengeti awakes!
free as the wind in song and verse tumbling within my soul quenching my poetic thirst as vibrant as the wild daisy each teardrop upon my face I twist and turn in posy lapping up the springtime rain with each pitter patter racing to greet my heart I melt with each breath of beauty drowning as I impart forever in crystal showers as I fall back to paint the day from the rumbling clouds of dynasty quickly I am taken away free as the wind in song and verse untouched purity this poetic birth ________________________
so, i got to thinking about all those words planted in my language where fertility grew them to leave and stalk and pod the farmer's words scatter my fields like seed on clod watered by thundering flashes awash, fertilized and germinating progeny seedlings, my own growth in some time-lapse photography writhing their creamy roots into earthy loam and droning on through a summer daze into fruits of sweaty labors on humid chlorophylled days silks sultry green, stalking me through rows and rows as far as i can see, if i squint the farmer, suspended in time stands with his hands in pocket or on some implement toed to soil and surveys life's prospects for this season, before the days bake the green back into the humus and the cornucopia spills the field and orchard this verse of the farmer's song picked and stowed away cool eyes closed now, ears gently strain to hear, worldly phrasing come from where? my larder or some ancestor gleaning meaning and dropping it into her apron to carry home to hungry minds to feed them something of today and sustain them through a fallow solstice and the chilled breeze any cultivation harvested over picked clean and harrowed flat nearly time to plow it under again while the farmer gazes the horizon and sips something in his cup © Goode Guy 2011-08-22
In froths of a sky never ever ending, she throttles like a half—shelled woman slow to prance in the midst of obedient breeze, her movement wrapped like a hundred cider vines… How orange are her nights. Tipping the light with curves arched and flowing with rain, she mounts her tinseled limbs on autumnal crest. The trees, seeds, and candles in her eyes lightly open the fingertips of near November. Quick to beat on belly drums, her tresses of fire melt the liquid stars in one tender rush… How native and young is she. After holding the skirt that lifts into a dance in the midst of patient time, the moon hangs like a violin ready to strut for a waltz that drifts on appliqués of her arms. And if every detail of lace in her malleable clay can be sewn in the light touching her shade, this she shall bring too. In Autumn's November froth. Seasonal Bliss Contest, Regina Riddle
yellow sphere rises daily illuminating a once-dark world traveling from east to west rapidly in winter months when sun's deprivation finds Earth dwellers in gloomy spirits longer hours of sunlight add joy to summer months warming seas for swimmers raising flowers from the soil radiating on verdant fields kissing golden meadows a star blessed with life-giving power by a beneficent Creator
When sunlit days become lost in shade, and all that was verdant becomes windswept jade, withering leaves become gold and brown, summer's reign at last,has lost her crown! © Harry J Horsman 2012
November Cool winds turn cold as the winds stir from the north The sun, the life giving star, heats the tropics so far to the south Its warmth a distant memory to the lands that it deserted Long forgotten greens of summer turn into the color of a raging fire The fire dies and leafs that lived in the summer sun die and fall to the ground The white silky clouds turn black and heavy carrying moisture from the open waters The mighty lakes of the north turn violent under the fading yellow sun Fighting the winds and the certainty of the fingers of the north freezing them Rain turns to ice storm and them into the snow that children love Mother Nature makes her changes as the speed of life slows Baby animals, now grown, leave their family to explore their new world Some settle down for a sleep that will protect for the three months of bitter cold Others travel to the lands of their ancestors where the climate never changes No one tells them to make such a journey It is just the cycle of life that protects them and their young But all the ice, the snow and the suffering will end For it is November and November is a month of change The changes will last until the spring when live starts anew The ice and snow will melt and food will be plentiful Green with once again color the trees, grass and shrubs The animals who were babies in the fall return with babies of their own The lakes thaw and calm in the spring's gentle breezes Life will return to normal at least until the winds of November return But, at least for now, that is a world away in another time And it is no longer remembered
1963. I ran crying to Uncle Jim, standing by the barn door. We hugged, and I tried to hold the smell of him, of Vermont -- Old Spice, oatmeal, rotting leaves in crisp October air. "Oh, kid, you and me, kid ... you and me," he said. But the car was waiting, all packed. My grandparents yelled one more time, to come. He stood alone, waving goodbye, his head held to one side, a war injury. Perhaps that's why he drank. Or maybe it was living so far away from us, in a wild place, where snow is measured in feet. On winding roads, I cried for two hours, through valleys of orange and yellow and graveyards of granite, where men with stovepipe hats and ladies with hoop skirts lay side by side underneath the green. A blur of steeply pitched roofs went by. Was Uncle Jim, by now surely in his house watching snowy TV, crying, too? 1975. Uncle Jim is dead, at least he told me so, as he stood by my bed one night. 2013. Even now, when I think of Uncle Jim, and how he held me, what he said to me in 1963, I still cry. Even now.
The woods stole me today and I was grateful that molting maples hummed their familiar hymns, brilliant notes of crimson and lingering gold. Dad, you walked beside me, chatting, invisible, so I became five, fed nuts to nattering squirrels as your big hand tugged at a cherished season. Once, I'd thought you mapped the flights of geese, scattered turbulent clouds in some grand scheme. Again, your voice traveled as we walked the path, windblown, while my footsteps crushed old dreams. By Cyndi MacMillan for the Autumn Splendor Contest Written Sept 9, 2012
part 1 We bend low under over-hanging branches lit by reflected river-light gently shifting. Our boots suck the muddy bank. We wade into clear water the dappled up-light playing on our serious faces. Intent on our task hands plunge. Cold-shocked I gasp. You hold your jar steady. I scoop mine. Triumphant in a shower of icy prisms we hold our prizes aloft, laughing and shouting, water streaming down our arms, jars teeming with tadpoles. Faces pressed close to these underwater worlds, we stand transfixed. Each reflects a small disc of sparkling sky. part 2 April trees rake scudding clouds. Far away farm dogs bark at wind-snatched shouts of bird-nesting boys. Somewhere, a cuckoo calls. In the back garden a blackbird stakes out his territory. Ignoring him the cat purrs, yawning in the sun. While unnoticed on the garden table beside a upturned jar, a sprinkling of flattened tadpoles commas drying in the sun. The bored cat saunters by, her tail held high in the shape of a question mark.
Winter days so cold and dreary Cause the soul to grow weak and weary Ice has covered all the trees It seems we are in a deep freeze But Spring is coming to the rescue Bringing hope and life anew Blossoms will soon cover the trees In will come the tropic breeze Then will come the butterflies Fluttering as they beautify Followed by the bumblebees As birds sing happily in the trees Winter soon will have to go As Spring comes in with gentle kiss Proclaiming to the cold and snow That winter thusly is dismissed 1 - 20- 2013
soda sparks and lemon juice on every lip and candle wick explosion of the champagne kind to bubble brains and swirl the minds when summer limps upon two heels we break our vows and kneel to feel the rhythm of the losing heat when soda sparks in weak appeal as sidewalks bend their thoughts to me while overactive melodies complete themselves in summer nights I barely fall without a fight and candles dim and lights grow white I know the drill, tonight's the night I lick the summer off my chin and grab September, and head on in...
Shadows Reversed Luxurious spring blew into my ear nesting birds delighted senses just sprung from dreams morning prayers were simply shadows as I smelled your sweet womanhood I readied your bath of silken warm water-- lilac soap lay ready to kiss your neck's curling hairs my heart bursting with lusty joy popped like a silver bubble-- to find you the shadow V Anderson-Throop 2014 Valdez, Alaska V. Anderson Throop June 9, 2014 Valdez, Alaska
Waves crash the rocks in ecstasy as I pass the archway to the sea. Onwards to the village, busy cafes, the aroma of coffee brewing, as a power of teens gather, texting. I venture down a chestnut lined road under a canopy of Copper Beech where bright shafts of sun illuminate a lane of lavender a sea of perfume wafts the air. Climbing an incline, hills in view, the distant sobbing of water sounds a trickling brook emerges ambling through magenta heather and thorny gorse. I reach a stile, entrance to the woods where a carpet of frosted red cyclamen bleeds down to a deep dark glen. A chicory lake lies there, frozen as a mist uncurls between reeds. The granite hills, soft with snow, luminous against a whale grey sky. A copse of pine trees surround a curving river where trout pout, bubbling. At the fold of day, returning hom The pale sun sinks the horizon as stars tremble into a velvet night
As September shadows appear All creatures prepare for winter days to come No calendar to tell them of advancing time They just know it was planned that way One by one the leaves of crimson and gold Of dying browns fall from maples, oaks upon the ground A note of regret, a bit of melancholy enters hearts At the first hint that summer is over That winter's voice is soon to be heard The shadows of September whisper Final vows to the dying year But seasons come and go, melting so noiselessly Significant in their silences One into the other That our thoughts keep forward There is a note of permanence in all the moves of nature She goes on, mindful of man and all his dreams of spring awakening In honor of Brian's "One For September"
They say spring is paradise. Will I think so too as my lips get paler and fingers paper thin? Flowers - all of them poppies, reminders like the tissued kind sold by valorous veterans. Will poppies ever turn to lilacs and carnations before these fields turn brown in fall? Death resides in the eye of the poppy; no wonder their smells are sweet. I know the blossoms mortal hint and collect each fallen petal for my basket. ©Kathryn McL. Collins May 24, 2004
How I wish I could go back To when I didn't Have a care in the world. I wish for the days I spent running Barefoot in the grass Laughing in the summer And eating icy cold popsicles. I want to be free again, To not have to think To go and do as I please, Ride a bike As fast And as far as I can, Or swim In freezing cold waters, My cheeks turning purple, My lips tasting salty. I wish to sit on a hill With my childhood friends, And eat cherries by the bag And draw on the sidewalk With an ice cube. How I long to relive my memories, How I long to be young again A carefree kid, in the hot Augusts of summer.
Downy feathers Lightly float Like dandelion seeds Gossamers Winter Spring Summer And again The fall Reveling in the dance Of monarchs wings And jackets with Downy feathers Like the advent of Snowflakes Lightly floating Gossamers Gossamers I muse
Nothing seems to make sense here, If there is such a thing as 'sense' at all. No way to tell the time of year, Morning doves hoot and owls call. The day appears to meld into the night, Shadows lurk with no one to follow. No way to perceive by the amount of light, Is it today or is it tomorrow? The sun is setting with the moon adjacent. The tide is coming and has already been. Sitting beneath a maple, I am complacent. Waiting for the rain to rise again. The air feels cold and warms my core. No way to tell where time ends or begins. Animals wake only to sleep once more. Falling stars rest in clouds made of wind. There I sit patiently trying to find my way, Flowers walk and leaves roam along. In this place where the night melds with day. In this place where the clocks are all wrong.
That was the summer... Of watermelon fields, and hot, humid days Of suntanned traces, and mosquito-bit faces When the purpose of knees Was to be skinned Of running down a country road Bare feet on hot asphalt Criss-crossing across an open field Helping ourselves To thick pink crimson chunks That melted cool on sun-parched tongues Dribbling from chins Leaving the best part The black bullet seeds To be spit out in rapid fire Against the wind Against the dusty ground Against each other And when the ammunition was spent A pillowed head, among the vines To dream on clouds that whispered by In the blue afternoon sky That watermelon summer ___________________________________________________________ For Skat's Contest: Summer
So Soft Serene and silent the head caresses pillow Landing soft and slowly with a sigh Quiet sounds of silken quilt In covered warmth Receives the fragile woman worn of age Contentment on her face As she finds comfort and companion with relief In design and form beneath As she slips between the sheets A slower moving body In the cozy bedroom for some tranquil sleep Outside, snowflakes count down the hours Blanketing the relaxed house near heaven In penetrating peace Mounting are the flowing mounds of white Building moments upon other open moments Smiles take the woman on a cloud To drift as well Composed and calm Upon her pillow down 8/21/14 Seasonal Bliss poetry contest
one... a piece of scarlett flowing by flirting with the threads on my arms five... breezes tied to their season, warmth running dry canopies reddened with alarm one hundred... endless thoughts of winter's tide her endless beauty and biting touch five hundred... winter's coronation has arrived crowning the ground with white dust one thousand... one leaf left, a hanging army whipping with wind, holding for life one thousand one... a brown corpse, dried and free, falling, falling, last tear from the tree.
Earth's crammed with heaven, and every common bush afire with God. And only he who sees takes off his shoes, the rest sit round and pluck blackberries. -- Elizabeth Barrett Browning The more time I share with you I find me like a wave crashing a distant shore. Insatiable thirst to drink from your living pools of water. Bathed in your furnace fires in this latter time. Let me not be the one to pluck blackberries from the bushes, But a small flame joined in your blazing fires. I am in awe to stunned to move from your presence. So close, I can feel a wind called Jehovah wrapped around me. I remove my sandals on this earthly ground. Knowing I am standing in your presence, the true essence of Holy Ground. I have seen and witnessed your Majestic Power, Love, and Salvation. This poem is featured at Sword n Light with music and art feel free to visit. http://www.swordnlight.com/sandals.html
Winter whispers goodbye as aggressive March cleanses the Earth in preparation for yellow hyacinths and purple irises. Free spirits enter with the fierce wind, anticipating renewal, living...yet waiting... for always.
Beneath cool green shade we roil in inner undulations-- a fever of hands, a pox of sunlight glinting high canopies of summer trees. Creeks crackle, clear water molding speckled pebbles as laughter churns cooling shade slipping past memories, holding moments briefly -- white seeds of cottonwood spinning in sun, settling listlessly on a skin of stream.
As the stars begin to appear in the night sky the snowfall continues unique snow crystals fall from heaven We're happy to watch the whiteness spread over the land Taking a deep breath of the night air we head homewards Tomorrow it will be difficult to get around But the snow looks so pristine! The trees are hung with snow And so, we;ll take in the sight of a world of white
The heat of summer makes her brain gelatin The Arizona sun turns her into a skeleton Time and space she does not put to waste Really, this poet lady is one of great taste Iced tea and lemonade in the Arizona sunlight Create an atmosphere for her that's just right Ink just drying on her newly crafted poem Always ready to rate on the pole of totem Tall she stands with stature in poet's land Only doing right waving her magic wand Leading other poets to higher heights Lovely readings are on her poetic site Everyone should look in her poetic bag What? Jill Martin, you are now tagged! Comments: Okay Jill, I was tagged by Tamiviolet Manchas. As a result, I have to pass the tag along. Your name is on the top of the list. Your poetry is just wonderful! Now, you must find a poet whose poetry you enjoy reading, and tag that poet with a poem. Man, this is so much fun! Chau!
Must be so far 'Cause I can't see the end Here's hoping Here's to all who never cared I said I'd serve you until the end Not so hard to understand But you have killed the moment Left me here for dead Coming too fast 'Cause I can see the end Here's hoping You take time forget I said I'd serve you until the end Not so hard to understand But you have killed the moment Left me here for dead Coming too late 'Cause I have passed the end Here's hoping You let go of all regrets In comes the tide To wash your life away Here's hoping That you're on solid ground
Steel Gray skies with threatening rain and restless wind My breath gathers as mist on the inside of the window pane ...as I watched for the school bus A slender birch tree with spiral scars of flayed bark against its white skin like curlicues of sharpened pencil shavings Still clutching many bright yellow leaves, Some collecting at its base like a discarded garment Sunlight, just a small shaft flickers bright dapples on tiny dancers Ocherous curtains against the bruised sky Prodigious vibrant final act Just for me The tree manages a sly curtsey in my direction, Sacrificing more of her fragile costume My beautiful rosy-cheeked child kicks playfully through the saffron sea of discarded programs "Here are some for you Mama" he says as he bursts into the kitchen smelling of peanut butter and early fall There he deposits a chubby handful of my regard gently into my apron pocket And into my heart's hiding place as well Perfect poignant performance; Beautifully done slender birch, Most beautifully done
Obviously, I am kissed Once more by destiny When clock touching The summer moonlight night Without pain And, flatten the thought By the buzzing bug With a fiery lips, awaking My lonesome blood Into whacking as I fell Into her breath With its natural scent Like Venus, the god Wrapped my lonely body By sweet loving hand That I felt like Lolly candy Wanting… To be licked By you, again and again
Seasons come and seasons go. Life changes for better and sometimes worst. Strength comes from storms. The best is appreciated by suffering the worst. Never change as Seasons do. Follow your dreams never lose sight of you. Don't forget who you are. Don't let life's disappointments leave a scar. On your emotions and eat away at you. Until the pain is so strong it overwhelms you. Don't be blinded by dream realization. After each storm there is sunshine. And you can endure good and bad times. Never let go of your ability to reason. Perservere learn from all Seasons.
Gray clouds without rain Loom and strike their hands With thunders and heavy voices At the earth below Sending down flashes of light Which miss their marks Then the breath of heaven Carries away those vapours Before the sun
Bitter, bitter, bitter not as in a taste on tongue or unrequited loves' remain, only of wind thats wrung all warmth from the air. Bitter, bitter, bitter all the way through to bone, clenching chattering teeth, and breath blown on mittened hands. Shine of sun to deceive beckons one out of doors brain has an idea of sun that roars away outside caught in bitter's bite.
Warm damp hair Dew drops hang from loose curls; Refracting rays of golden summer Dance across a placid surface Enveloping cool caressing currents As bronzed arms pump and glide Buoyant form sluicing toward the dock Trickling water runs down my back As I stretch up to kiss Your warm damp hair As your body shimmers, In refracting rays of golden summer
Empty cold branch fingers Reaching out in all directions Through the quiet skies Gray and heavy smoldering Whisping skyward from chimneys Through the windows frost child eyes Spy the first snowfall softly Drifting about heedlessly White velvet landscaped covering As December settles down Enfolding the night In her tranquility
Walk amidst The flowers Waves of bright Color overwhelm you The air is redolent with their scent The sun sends It's smile down to greet us Here in the garden one can Know peace Here in the garden Life takes on a different hye The air is vibrant With Anticipation We meet In this Flowering Grove Let's hope it's Not For the Last time
I am up before the sun and I move with anticipation to the shade. To peek out. What awaits? What has occurred while I slumbered? A new blanket of snow and ice would be nice with rabbit tracks across the lawn. Had sheets of rain fallen around leaving branches on the ground and puddles everywhere. Would there be a kiss of fog and mist hanging there laying imagination and mystery upon the new day. Alas none of this. And then the melodious sounds of long ago flood my ears and fill my soul returning as suddenly as they left... The birds are back.
Soul ties are tight like crazy glue.Who could ever get through?Stuck twisted,and bonded,can't really hide it. Soul ties:listening to the continuous lies and the fake alibis underneath that dark disguise. Soul ties are so deep that they cause me to creep.Making me feel so cheap inside where the Holy Ghost can't abide.Because there is so much sin inside of me,causing my maker to turn away due to the sin I've created that burdens Him everyday. Soul ties are like cancer that will cause you not to answer the call of the parakleet. Come and be restored.Take the mindset to be free and walk into God's liberty. Soul ties can make or breaker you.A soul tie with our maker is burden-lifter and a yoke breaker;the finisher of all my fights with much delight.I don't have to fight anymore. A soul tie can make or break you .Which one will you choose?Or will you continue to abuse the soul and unite with savages that cannot make you whole? Continuing the cycles of twists and turns and down in hell where the(flesh) will burn. Soul ties:which tie will you take?Jesus is on His way.Get it right today without delay.Release the sin today so you can be on your way. Soul ties:which one will you choose?Today,again, I say Jesus is coming any day.Choose to connect with Jesus.He'll lead the way. Soul ties: which one will you choose?With Jesus you can't lose. Soul tie with Him today!
Leaving the last days of August memories of the sea waves crashing Tides that leave shells broken to find ~ picnic memories ~ fireworks night Birthday cakes sparkle ~ sunburns under a sage kissed dessert Moonlight The Summer reminds us of happier days scents of coconut oil and lime reminds us all of what is yet to come ~ The rain comes down hard crying for all souls lost and left behind The birds fly in perfect form reminding all of the September storm begging for history not to repeat ~ ~ In war no wins only defeat ~ two beams of light straight to the Heavens stay through the whole month of September they remind us to listen silently we stand still For the city lives and breaths left with loss many questions unanswered remain ~ Leaving behind August entering Septembers fears ~ I love this poem because it reflects on the past and the coming month in remembrance of history that took place September 11th 2001. In a way it is a oxymoron . from passionate summer nights to the fear embraced in the month coming :)
The glistening yellow sun shines down upon the golden brown fields harvested today. Our gardens are cleared of the red, green, yellow vegetables and our canning is underway. As we look across the orchard the pickers are on the last of the apples to be picked and sold. The rustic color of the leaves are beginning to furl and we remember that fall has been born again. As the sun sets it looks as if a fire was set to the orange, yellow, brown, red and green leaves. A light breeze sets in and we hear a rustle as the leaves drop lazily upon the once green grass, as we drift off to sleep. Written for: Russell Sivey's "Autumn, Fall Colors Contest" Written on: 08/16/2012 By: Carol Brown 2nd Place Winner
Pods appear upon the sprigs of green reaching skyward covered in early morning dew. Soft yellow petals open and fold down forming a blanket upon which the trumpet center will rest. The sun shining down on the daffodils give a feeling of daintiness to the flowers. One of the most beautiful flowers seen swaying in the spring breeze. A sign that spring is indeed bursting at the seams to be born again. As the spring season arrives and Easter approaches the daffodils will be in full bloom. The trumpets reaching to the sky in a wonderful display of beautiful colors. Again year after year these precious flowers return to us once more to admire. Entry for "Ten Minutes Tops" contest of P.D. Written by Carol Brown 10th Place Winner
Clink clank clink clank clink clank slow steady pace, metal hitting pavement pausing when you pause following you home, the man is bones and a tie, top hat, tails, not tap shoes more like chains, the sound a horseshoe makes when it hits the stake, clink clank what does he want, why follow you home? His teeth gleam of green fire, his hands haloed by electric blue, he's a Halloween special turned out just for you, clink clank he wants to touch you, better run His eyes are on fire, he's spewing smoke from his nostrils, there's no place to hide clink clank is faster clank clank clank has your breath caught in chest yet? When he touches you, you'll melt, one touch you're on fire, one scream from your mouth brings no one out to save you from his wrath clink clink better speed clink clink nearer ever nearer Is it candy that fuels him? Toss a Mars Bar or two, toss the whole pillow sack, watch it burst in flame there's a door if you can reach it, just up the hill huff puff clink clank, there's a door with a wreath Flowers black as coal, it opens a bit, precious light spews forth, saying welcome your welcome if only you can outrun him, outrun the bone man the man with top hat clink clank clink clink after you The door widens, your belly hurts, beneath your mask you drip sweat, and just as you reach it, hiss, pain, flame on your back and from the door, bone man exits clink clank Two bone men, will take you to the fire two bone men, don't want your scary mask, the candy you can keep, your tears mustn't weep just pass over the pumpkin, they'll be gone from sight. Clink Clank, phew, bone men, toting pumpkin, lit from within, their hands holding it, opposite twins clink clank, they are going, going kabooom straight into the air, and off to far off moon, phew.
My Seasons of Change 1. All the world's a sky of faded virtue, 2. Though major events have shaped my life, 3. they are constantly replaced with new memories, most soon to be forgotten. 4. One day's triumph is another's past glory. 5. Like clouds, people have floated into my life and portrayed themselves in a way to form my character. 6. Some have stayed and some have gone each leaving their distinctive steps in my path. 7. The stars which illuminate the night are like the reflection of my past decisions. 8. Like constellations show the history of people's lives, mine is not yet run its course, but only begun. 9. Just as God has blessed nature with its four seasons: summer, fall, winter and spring; 10. He has also provided me with seasons that have developed my intricate character. 11. The first is independence. 12. Independence had arrived at the threshold of my future around the time of my late middle school years. 13. Independence came from situations that pushed me to the edge of change. 14. Change was not only a shift in my surroundings but a total alteration in my world view. 15. The perplexing opportunities challenged me to make my own decisions. 16. With my own decisions came discernment. 17. My whole eighth grade year I felt the daunting shadow of high school nudging at my side. 18. After all, my success in high school could set the course for the rest of my life 19. and is it not my obligation to take the gifts God has given me and use them to change the world? 20. That doesn't happen overnight. 21. The rough bark of an oak tree presented itself as a symbol for the following weeks of transition. 22. High school brought discernment. 23. I acquired the knowledge of why things are right or wrong. 24. Responsibility was the next season in my life. 25. Responsibility is not only gained through trust but opposition. 26. Now that these three seasons have come to pass, they have matured my mind and soul. 27. The last to follow is inevitably, struggle. 28. Seamless struggle has lingered behind mankind since the begining of time. 29. Struggle can be neither ignored nor avoided. 30. As lighting strikes from the sky and thunder roars so is the ever presence of daily trials. 31. Each season represents a pillar which will withstand not only the icy winds of fear, but 32. provide peace and security in my spirit that can never be driven out.
Summer lies sleeping somewhere in fields of daisies her warm breeze waltzes with each blade of grass Autumn's reclined wrapped within soft, cool mists her nursery of seeds and parched leaves put to bed Winter has awoken and rides the frigid northern winds Ushering in a moment of slumber to proffer the circle of life And... spring will come tomorrow, a new beginning to champion When all asleep arise once more, with burst of colors everywhere! ~*~ 01/'14
You might call it an epiphany as I bedded down amongst the vines a beautiful yellow back spider for the entire afternoon we would spent some time With sun glistening above and a wind caution and free a delicate web of life he began a sight my eyes marveled to see From tiny branch to tiny branch a miraculous grand design took shape rectangles stacked upon rectangles squares of silk he fashioned free Within this beauty and grace he paused as if to see a smile within my heart aglow a hope for humanity "Thrive" I said to the little guy as I rolled back to my feet a grateful dream I did thee witness a minuet piece of Gods majesty
An argentine sky adorns the woodlands In a misty shroud as only slight remnants Of a long forgotten path remain, Embraced by the beauty of maples and by The scent of cool crisp air--autumn permeates. Yet there is subtle warmth in the mélange Of colorful pumpkin, gold and, vermilion leaves, In their swirling harmonic dance As they depart the boughs of their birth Unified in death, as in life. ©2011 Connie Marcum Wong *For Russell Sivey's Autumn Splendor contest
The frost is in my toes, riming the up tilted boulders, and twinkling the night sky, like a cold breath blown and whooshing clear off the plateau into the arms of the universe. Ah, standing still is spinning all axis in step to be motion free except the heated breath of the stars condensing and exploding. Just diamonds or dewdrops, a taste of eternity swallowed. Analyzed. Understood. And gone. Me scrunching down, counting the meter until full exposure. Listening for the mating cries of crickets absent in the last dying down of autumn. I hold onto my self, then. Great big hug and release. Fall into the tumble of earth churned rock. No one but me to see the castaway burning through to my side. Call them meteorite, spore, seed planted for tomorrow traveling the empty spaces of time wondering when, how, where the tick tick tick of radiation changes our bodies and our minds. To be melted down, patted onto others, cataclysmic blown and find a way to solidify, decorate and blaze.
A path, blood red from dying leaves, Journeys to a foreboding occult place Yet, it seems to call out my name And my curious soul needs to Wander amidst the tunnel of trees, Become lost, lost in thought as well, On a quest to conquer the wild, the Unknown, to emerge victorious in Making my way out of the tangled Trees, and out of my tangled thoughts. Ahead, I can see a foggy light. © Connie Marcum Wong
Her visit is bright! It brings life and warmth. Butterflies, surfers, children, hikers, and bungee jumpers celebrate her coming. Fireworks, fireflies, and balloons of different colors in the air, are visible to see. We hope that she is here to stay, but Autumn is sure to show her the door again. Date: 05/01/2015
Let us walk together to a garden of flowers beneath a clear blue sky of spring weather we will when we get there my love while away time sitting under cool shades of sinuously swaying trees as we listen to the mellifluous harm of nectar sucking bees and the enchanting songs of flower birds and watch as butterflies of all glorious colors grace the place and when we are deeply satisfied I will pick for you the flower most admired by bees, flower birds and butterflies and we shall walk back home dreaming of love which does not wither as time grows old with a vivid picture of a never aging flower garden painted on our minds
Whitecaps splash against Charcoal colored rocks that Lie in scattered clumps Hugging the summer shoreline, Leaving white frothy foam That quickly disappears as Steadfast rocks prepare for Their next embrace. The ocean is calm today And my thoughts drift Through azure skies To mingle with the clouds. © Connie Marcum Wong
The scene is a bit too bright, and the Water is a bit too tart. Slightly acidic, But mostly enticing, it feels good to him. With measured step He walks up - jumps - And falls in. Plunging deeper he tries to see But the chlorine burns his eyes, A rhythmic exhale eases the pressure on his ears But he can't breathe and is afraid his heart Will beat out of his chest. Acquiescing to his pain, he faintly hears a voice beckoning him towards the wall, Finally reaching the bottom he pushes off the floor, Frantically kicking towards the surface. Swallowing his first gulp of air, his back stings as the wind renders an aftershock of motion, But he happily pulls toward the ladder; Eager to climb up and plunge again.
The wind rushes through the valley whispering your name. Autumn trees begin to release their leaves reluctantly, trying to hold on to summer. I see your reflection in droplets of rain, I share your joys, and feel your pain, yet you have moved on without a thought of what we once shared that summer so long ago. As the crisp air and rain touches my face all those memories tend to cascade. . . flooding my mind and nearly drowning me. Blue is my mood and my chosen hue that lays to rest happier times in the summer sun, in the clear cool lake, under the trees in your arms. I, now in my autumn years, and feeling so much like those lovely trees, reluctantly let go. © August 24, 2013
Why I am thinking of my father on the topic of white snows perhaps because he seemed almost Hispanic in his youth, tanned, dark hair and eyes but whiteness shone the day he came home early worry caught my breath in chest and only in the morning did the firemen come, taking him away. Such heart spasms, clench us all, yet snow falls so softly, unexpected and ice rains even less noticed they drip, drip, coating the roads and only when we step too fast skews our vehicle, ends us in ditch new babies without parents, stitches in our heads. The drips spire down the icicles, coat the roses as buds, never to open, and yet, sometimes, I wish to be inside tasting the ice cold water like fire turning blue to the ends of my limbs in sleepiness, and setting ablaze my very soul, like a light, shine out as call here, with me, all the memories a blanket of witness to eternity dripping into us experience's minerals. Who could do magic with a wand headed with all of life's power to hold? Who could accept magic in waves like the falling of snow, or wonder that we escaped from death, that we saw roses, saw the spirals climb down from the sky as raindrops and drip, drip, into our thoughts all that began as white and ended.
I sit in my garden gazing at the trees. Leaves of gold, red, amber and orange fills the sky. Some spinning downward, falling multidirectional. A warm glow carpets the still green grass of fall. The tree trunks look so much darker Against the intense vibrant colored leaves. The backlight of sun rays illuminates them, Giving them an almost translucency. It reminds me of stained glass against sky blue. It seems like an energy is infused within these leaves, Setting them afire on this October day. A wondrous contentment it brings me. Nature is certainly at her healing best today.
Oh my God the geese! Standing in my yard while wave after wave of them fly over the roof of the house from the NW to the SE. Each wave ebbs and flows, the geese almost exactly the same distance apart the V is straight and they fly strong. And the ruckus! Talking and calling to one another. As they meet in the big migration they sound like a gaggle of guys at the club, or women catching up on the news across the fence. You can hear the sergeant honk his orders, his voice is deep. A trailer squawking wait for me, her voice screams. They just keep coming like the tireless waves against the shores breaking up occasionally, their order broken, gliding amiss. Sensing; ever slowly; the geese find the scent, catching the current that holds primal instincts unlearned spiriting them back into shape. Now stragglers of two; A quiet – Then a new wave, large enough to surf. How powerful the swoop of free spirits beats into my awareness of self. Spring, motivation, renewal, time to flourish, this beautiful wild earth. The last waves, are they the last waves, seem tired; pressing to reach the unseen place of ancient memories.
...and how lovely to sleep in the womb of a bird that caresses silk like skin and sense all things around are being taken care of as sugar coated thoughts begin to traverse the twilight sky of a summer night when misty mist comes, sounding on your jovial, pink lips
A snow pony and sled The pure mystery of diagonals, gliding and tinkling bells Beside a grey-green meadow, shadow less down snow lanes with plumes of breath, mystical from its nostrils Stone carved but alive in shape and form The snow crunches under its animated hooves This sled streaming through a pure, white domain A temporary yet, timeless feeling world. Suzanne Delaney
The mystical maid of the seasonal change, in summer darns a Gown of evergreen, with rose petal blossoms of bows, and leaves Ribbons woven intertwine through thorns and beauty. In the rush the colder winds blow at natures rare textured garments Of elegance personified, limb by branch, fall do the delicate flowers, Tenderly bidding the great lady a loving farewell remorse, until next Years calling madam, they do softly whisper till then my dearest love. Now in the white dress of the elm, a white maiden of porcelain skin thus Stands alone, brushed by the on coming chilling breeze of autumn, decorations Multicolored rainbow leaves create a sheaves protection of golden copper, mixed With reds crimson detailing of perfection's design. The waltz of the timeless begins to play the harmonic music, so the tree Of life it so does sway, in glories joyous dance. Ever lightly stepping on the stage of destiny, this lady grace moves with Her charming silhouette whom keeps in rhymes precision to the tune. Attempting to beguile this mistress of the season, winter wishes her to yield, So she may ware his whitest gown earlier this year. But nay the lady will not be tempted by the icy gown of winter's seductions, For it is she whom decides the changing of the seasons. It glitters in the air, shimmering with like rarest gems of the sky, enticing The maid enchanting the women beneath the browning leaves the are blown Away one by one unto the quickening air swirling around her. So a tarried figure will appear, ravaged threadbare, a Grecian statues goddess, Standing stark naked held captive beneath the winter's lustful spell. Surrendering the beauty yields to the beast, dressed in sorrows brilliant shifts Of ivory, that sparkles and shines beneath the moonlights illumination. Heavy is the burden she must bare, this now ice maiden, waiting until the life Cycle to begin again, then a lighter a gown she'll darn once more. In the night the sweet music takes a harsher tune, yet she dances onwards, Her tears turning to snow fakes white lace, thus before they have even a chance To hit the ground, a damsel of ice and snow waiting to be rescued by the first Kiss of spring. In faith she puts all her trust, to end this season of death, she prays to the almighty, Oh lord it's lasting to long, my inner heart bleeds so with agonies longing, the heavenly Father thus sends her a small sign, a minimal of insignificant size, the ground hog, I'm here, For thee he says standing before her majesty, don't give up hopes loving embrace. Then in a lightening flash of colors array, winters chill is whisked away, melted now Is the heavy garments tethering, and she smiles in the warmth of springs gown of Fragrant flowers, and she the maiden of the seasons, praises the power of God on high, Thank you my father, never again shall I forget your loving grace. BY: CHERYL ANNA DUNN
Oh yes, so like the feathered being, I perched 'pon the roof with ink and slip missed naught The breeze, the suns soft caress, yes even the tricklets of dew tenderly setting 'pon mine slip from; the long pause from write as mine eyes did gaze ( fortuitously) through her pane Unquestionably I was intrigued with the unveiling, yet; it was her preparing which moved this pen, yes; her prime for Spring
softly …gently showering blossom mimicking languidly falling snow falling languidly mimicking blossom showering gently…softly
The thunder makes way for the lightning As does the caterpillar make way For the Butterfly So too do I make way for The changes of Christ in me © Brenda V Northeast 27th April 2012
Diamond dawn softened cold clinical walls, smoothing harsh lines, soothing the sleepless with the lullaby of love. Blossom-pastel hues sparkled with crystals of dew; glimmering prisms of diamond-cut light, in the month of showers and flowering bowers. Red and yellow daisies studded dark soil like gemstones tumbled beneath the flower of the sun. Sweet peas twined a bright trellis of light; clinging like a baby's fist, curling around sunbeams, climbing a golden ladder of sunlight. Crystalline morning softly stroked your face: a sleeping jewel, gently polished by the early light of a late April sunrise. dedicated to my little 'sweet pea' Jake, born 28th April 2009 Charlotte Puddifoot Motif: Nature
Heat days arrive with cloudless skies. A sultry haze hangs evoking earthquake tales. Sticky twilight mauve moves another day, another month another year passing as sporadic fireworks explode weeks before the celebration of another date. Dog dead days bestir record keepers to pronounce and announce what few brain cells have already registered ... it is hotter than hot.
I live where lime trees bloom before spring has come, where early unattended fruit drop from the trees... I gather some in a silver metal bowl and place them on a table. These green and yellow limes are round, redolent, with a clean citrus flavor. I squeeze one, release its oils, and rub my hands with wringing motions, cover my nose to breathe the fresh, clean scent -- and marvel, once again, how such simplicity can cheer me.
Sky turns red as the sun sets on an Autumn evening Night comes bringing in a slight chill I see the ruddy moon leaning over a hedge Like a red-faced farmer Crisp fall air sets the night Changed-color leaves' song roars Round about are the wistful stars. +++ September 6, 2014 Form: Free Verse Dr. Ram mehta Tenth Place win Contest: One Autumn Night by P.D. My Inspiration is picture No.3
gone are the hot beach days lounging back sipping a rum and coke where romance found a silver spoon while the stars above sang your name time is running away and we go along with it no treading softly as yellow leaves flutter to the ground without a sound to meet their parched end shadows embrace lovers knowing they will never feel the same let's pretend it is not the end raise your glasses in the air as parties are dying down meet the fall of summer with cheers
Looking out my window this 38 degree morning I saw that: The bushes are weighted down with the moisture; the droplets on the verge of morphing into ice; hunkering against the cold. The weeds are dead and stiff with the end of a dry season; now wet, turned into intensely deep shades of brown and ochre. The tall un-mown grasses are matted down by leaves fallen at season's end, gathering the moisture, ready to rest from summer's toil in a quiet and peaceful dormancy.
It's Raining. Come on my beautiful lady its spring showers let us fly with the rain knowing how much you love the raining season,living next to the ocean, my promenade on the sand hand in hand with the rain always allows me to regain my strength, it gives me the power to share my deep feelings & emotions. It hit me tonight to run quickly after the rain, and that is only the beginning. Oh! let it rain again & again,let the thunder start singing a song with the strong rain drops vibrating like the echo of music from afar. Walking alone by the ocean I felt heavy drops of rain flowing down my cheeks mingling with my tears whispering,its me your friend the rain again,I haven't much time,I am passing by to listen to your heart beat & wash away your fears to run under your feet warm them with a hug,and hear me convey a message to your thoughts that i love you. & decided to carry you away out West,deliver you to pass sometime with your children,hug them, love them,talk to them,share with them,sit with them until I come back to fly you home again. Here I am back from this memorable panoramic journey while piloted by the pouring rain, love the rain,an eternal friend as long as I live. Therese Bacha 21/5/2013
Autumn feelings flow in much the fashion as lost leaves that blow All Hallows' finds our minds in false identities that take us to escape our daily grind and look into the fantasies behind the hidden selves we barely have the time to know Delighting in our children's rituals for misrule, in the guise of madness we find our neighbour's kindness and exorcise our fears of strangers, masquerading as a fairy or a witch or ghost in pain We anticipate with joy the chance to be a child again Written September 2013 For Russell Sivey's Everything Halloween Contest.
White and red and pink oleanders bloom-- they are blown in wind, littering grass and drying on the bricks of my front patio. Orchid trees are flowering, and royal poncianas. Surprising jacarandas, orange blossoms, honeysuckle, jasmine, and acacia assail the senses, while I, alive, enjoy yet another Spring!
Looking out my window this 38 degree morning I saw that: The bushes are weighted down with the moisture; the droplets on the verge of morphing into ice; hunkering against the cold. The weeds are dead and stiff with the end of a dry season; now wet, turned into intensely deep shades of brown and ochre. The tall un-mown grasses are matted down by fallen leaves, saddened by season's end and wet with shiny tears.
Cicada chirp vibration. Comes an image of heat, sweat, sweet clover and haystacks that itch. ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ for Laura McKenzie's contest ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"Ice cream, ice cream two for a quarter" but we were already lining up Mr. Softee's* song beckoned sultry vacation days in the suburbs no air-conditioning back then not one neighbor had a pool so "Slip 'N Slide was the way to keep cool bedtime came before summer's sunset but only after Dad's nightly stories sometimes funny, sometimes scary he made them up as he went along weekends were wild at the Jersey Shore sun, sand, surf and boardwalks but it was the family time I loved most as I dreaded that first school bell *Mr. Softee was an ice cream truck similar to the Good Humor man. Entry for the "Summer" Contest Summer in the Suburbs and at the beach
They sometimes come as strangers to the Earth. But, often, they are unwelcome overflows. From two pure elements they are always made, And they are most essential to the welfare of mankind. They have activated hormones now and then And, sometime later results are proudly known. Many sweaty brows of have been cooled, After work in fields fed by spring showers. As both adult and child I've slept to the Rhythm of spring showers on tin roofs. And the sleep resulting seemed much more refreshing Than the forty winks I managed now and then. Spring showers are our friends But when carried by strong winds Can bring devastation And damage of historic proportions. These gentle rains can mean Life's blood to some and death knell to others. So, spring showers are many things And memories galore flourish after their visit. Written for Russell Sivey's contest 'Spring Showers" 04/14/13
Overwhelmed with fear I whispered into the rain Disarming defenses, Giving in to the gray Tearing down all of my shelter within my hollowed decay While this echoing silence gave every tear drop a name They begin filling the voids with mundane hopes for a change Heaven will save me from this hell and blue skies will reign Lazily lay in green grass watching clouds drift away It's all but a deflated dream now that the colors have changed My thoughts have become restless noise of uncertainties rearranged Damning all of my emotions, lies decorated with grace Now I stand with a hardened heart in the sobering autumn rain I'm disarmed and defenseless, Giving in to the gray
The sun is a scythe slicing late September skies, severing the gilt chain link of sultry summer days. Smoke spirals slowly above cornfields crackling with gold, as if the brittle fields are alight with the cremation of summer's scorched carcass. Mornings, there is a new sting in the air as wasps scavenge the rotting guts of redcurrants in a huddle of blood spot bushes, and the last windfalls soften, sweetening untamed grass. Late summer's muggy pulse falters and fades as arterial light spills from the failing, anaemic sun, and Michaelmas daisies droop drowsily, jaded and wan, as September's gilded edges soften, mellowing into October's mauve. 9/5/2013 for 'Summer's End' contest by Charlotte Puddifoot entered into Nette Onclaud's 'Take Two' contest on 4/2/2014 *I've left the original date and contest title untouched so you'll know it is a piece that genuinely didn't place...looking down at that first comment of Andrea's I had to laugh because it's usually the kiss of death for me in a contest whenever she says something like that! lol
as red leaves turn to dust and a chill is in the air, I see the wild geese in perfect formation fly off to southern climes. a bit of me longs to go along for soon I'll hear old winter's song...
A pretty oak sits outside my window pane in the snow and in the rain Covered with life, outside the balcony fifty steps away Decorating the tree with flashes of red, black, grey, yellow and white, are his friends the cardinals , squirrels , chickadees and the tufted titmice They sing , chirp, and chatter in harmony of song As the seasons pass, we live thru heat, drought , cold and rain all year long I keep my feeder close at hand and watch as they load up in waves of two and three to make their run at the seeds and grain The leaves are green now and vibrant with life, in the fall the acorns grow and my tree stands tall At winter they covet the warmth and provide a shelter for the thick furred grey squirrels A lovely little hole in the crook of the branch big enough for two to snuggle and borough They race down these pathways in the sky, playful as skilled acrobats October mornings the leaves are falling , making noisy whispering sounds the first rays of sun turn frost into a million twinkling stars on the ground The two winged take refuge in their nest , built carefully for warmth and rest To nurse and raise their young , making them fit for another generation of the best The seasons flow as a quiet pond and like our beautiful life everything is real with very little strife Among the colorful citizens of this merry place I give life in equal exchange for joy and a chance To sit and watch my friends as I grow old and enjoy life in the sun But life changes, very unfair , and I am denied my playground in the sky one day some men came and cut all the beauty down Now its gone all butchered and bare nothing left but a big hole in the ground
Overnight, the ice of unshed tears has thawed upon her pillow, frail foil-silver filaments have draped the room like tinsel. Outside, an ermine mist mantle has muffled the garden, softly stifling evergreens clinking with crystals of light. Glacial draughts of silence gust through the house - stark silver slivers coldly conveying the worst. And she cannot deny the frosting of fear webbing inner windows; the desolation that dwells within and does not dissolve. Isolation swells with winter's sting; reality is slipping from her tenuous grasp. A seasonal strangeness: this polar pause, this pensive wake for the year's passing; the lull before the last push of consumerism, poised on the edge of an uncertain season.
OCTOBER TOWN Trees The tall, old trees All must start with the senior thrust of old trees that glorify October Town Well, they are wonderful many and are shapely full From Ellison's Point one can, except for Baptist spire, barely see October Town for the Midas wealth And when the cruel October light deadly caresses each leaf, Old Solomon's mines never saw such crust, such rust, such gold Leaves! – spread band stand steps, glorify Town Square, whole town in Persian carpet Yet, still enough Ned Peacher walked down to Edd's drug store for a fountain coke Same store, all round, his gang visited in 44 Walmart nor other chain store had forced Edd's out Brill's Hardware Murray Stationery General Store still there, all freshly painted each year "Change," whispers the autumn air, but blows quite round October Town Seasons come, people live with quiet dignity The frost, snow and ice all to be greeted with calm, confident love In October Town Dave Austin
Through the lonely woods, I may head, Upon the autumn leaves, I may tread, At the secluded horizon, I may stare, And only you, I may see, In those symphonies of silence, In those melodies of calmness, In those euphonies of quietness. By the silent lake, I may lay, Till the twilight fades, I may stay, Then in reclusive silence, I may walk, And only to you, I may talk, Through those toungueless emotions, Through those wordless attachments, Through those voiceless sentiments. In the lone meadow, I may wander, Along the untrodden paths, I may waver, In companionless seclusion, I may hide, And only in you, I may find, The depths of oneness, The bonds of togetherness, The cozy feel of coalescence. In the wilderness of emotions, I may die, At the merciless daggering, I may sigh, Through a million wounds, I may bleed, And only in you, I may seek, The balm of love, The warmth of affection, The heal of inseparability.
The morning woke up To flirt with the moon The sun didn't shine Because it was shy The morning woke up To hear the songs of sparrows The flowers didn't sing Because they were shy The morning woke up To breathe the breeze of sea The boat didn't sail Because it was shy The morning woke up To hug the clouds The rain didn't fall Because it was shy The morning woke up To tell the novel The story didn't began Because it was shy The morning woke up To gather the hearts The feelings didn't complete Because they were shy The morning woke up To rescue the childhood The children didn't play Because they were shy The morning woke up To lend a helping hand The world didn't complain Because it was shy The morning woke up To challenge the homeless The world didn't wake up Because it was shy The morning woke up To read the poem The poet didn't write Because he was shy...
Look at you, August, petending to be a southern belle all breezy and full of mint julep. Refinement is not your style, a plague your eighth month sun driven to scourge pastures, blind cattle, wilt bluebells and buttercups. No southern belle, you. ©Kathryn M. Collins September 26, 2012
;;;;;;;;.............;;;;;;;; so many frigid clouds so many dangling drooping dippers on this icy, icy night of paper, powder and pearl… she gushes out from the night blanket, cats and tigers in flight, trees mashing ivory feathers with silver stones. her lukewarm eyes sink with velvet birds sketching her photographs tissue crepe, ocean crème and maiden white, nesting on hemisphere's balding coves the sky-lamps trip on her thermal feet naked… i mean, like breasts of newborn doves on the nest's chilled waiting room... and just past midnight at the basement of stillness, nothingness, her translucent air swerves in transit between visions of secluded saints and sinners weeping then laughing at the bite of polar time. this moon lady of frost embraces lantern clouds waning, heralding her sacred infant-like incantation seemingly detached from earth mother's limbs on this icy, icy night of paper, powder and pearl… she is cold changing to warm, breathless along an arctic season longing for her new moonchild to bear the fruits of plump colors soon to be. ........................................ (( here's to: Chris D. Aechtner's " Free Verse for Winter"))
< Minnesota Wild Like its loon that cascades it's lakes Minnesota Wild Like it's black bear strong and fierce Minnesota Wild Like it's deer and 12 point bucks Minnesota Wild Like it's rivers and winding streams Minnesota Wild Like it's mighty timbers and pines Minnesota Wild Like it's eagle that soars forever free Minnesota Wild Like it's pheasant and wild turkey Minnesota Wild Like it's great northern pike Minnesota Wild My anthem and illuminated theme Entry For John Heck's Encore Contest G.L. All
Fast flowing rivers in spring Diverting, shooting around rocks Eroding banks along the shore line Water moves, furious and icy cold Rushing along at a hurried pace Budding trees, cling to surrounding banks Once barren, new life has sprung New sprinkling of color amongst shades of green Regrowth, regeneration, a new season arrives.
The trees are softly weeping their tender leaves like tears falling, mourn summer's end Heartsick they quietly stand their boughs like arms reach awaiting, winter's frosty chill Through lonely starry nights their memories like sparling jewels, beget signs of spring Till ends nature's quiet sleep their blossoms like whispers birth, warm summer dreams Before welcomed blue skies their grandeur like promises yield, to autumn's siren call © Eugene Harvey
Finished vines waving limply in the wind, tangled streaks across the hillside. The Autumn Earth conceals eternal motion under a carpet of many colors; a fluid carpet that flutters and shifts beneath my feet; a noisy carpet telling the story of my presence. Frost-bitten flowers broken by my passing touch salt their pollen on the wind; a gooseberry shrivels against the bark of a naked bush. The black bear and the coons steal each other's dens, and bees, lethargic, cuddle on the combs. But why? I know why--- scientifically, astronomically-- the earth and sun fly elliptically and space dilutes the energy. But still i cling to the burnt orange leaves, savor the last unsquashed berry, dreading the day when my worn winter jacket is not warm enough and my breath freezes and my legs hurt where my boots rub. The frozen rain clings in crystals to tired trees; snow glitters like shattered glass and cold sunlight assaults my eyes. I close my eyes against the glare and listen to the moaning wind, and dream of a world where Autumn gives birth to Spring.
I awoke this morn to a beautiful bitterly cold wintery delight Shrouded by nights darkness a Pogonip fog crept in to cast its magic spell Wielded a wintery wand placing a frosty shawl upon all within my sight Trees branches hung low encased in icy jewels as if an elegant crystal chandelier While a spider web displaying a frosty garland glistens in the morning light High above a flight of geese are strung across the sky as if some vocal bandolier Pogonip did dazzled us with such visual delights but they are not meant to last all day For a dusty sun has risen through this frosty morning haze And later today this sun's rays shining down will melt it all away
Seasons change Even when love remains It's not the same It's a cycle in constant motion Dying, reborn, and still it's growing And autumn takes it's chill Even when it's dying, ..... it's beautiful still Bare and vulnerable With all it's colors set at its feet It's beautiful As it surrenders in its defeat And it seems weathered and in despair When the color drifts away with the winters air It hangs in the grey, a dark cynic Beaten and broken Then a ray of light beams And hope has spoken It's there the warm comes again And the sun it.... Shines And the broken and the weathered Catches the fire of the horizon It blooms at the finger tip of change At the touch of light Something green, new, and fresh And overdue Naive and full of life Just a leaf of hope in the sunset But soon a field of flowers Once Spring's dew's wept Pleasure and pain That's the season of change That's the change in seasons A change in loves reasons A reason for the change in love.
< Bao - Yu precious jade your angelic font cast mirrored images off stilled pond orchids in woven hair garments of satin and lace you lying in fetal position upon granite's stone tell me heavenly Goddess Why Do You Look So Sad ? Written By Katherine Stella For Rambling Poet's Reflection Contest G.L. ALL Name Of This Poem Is Entitled Bao -Yu
I collect eyes. Burnt ones. Of the last summer. Arms chopped off. By a tide of sand. Reflections of uncollected water. You, hunter of flowers… Oh, wharves! Oh, sea goings! Winds in the sails of the white ships. High wings. The swelter of August swallowed you. But today it's September and the oval autumn. And your voices I hear…
Work. Toil. The pain I put in the ground. For such a precious thing. Corn. The family enjoys their meal. They plant their leftover kernels. And wait for me to tend to them. Work. An endless cycle in which happiness is born. ©Demand4poetry 21 February 2013
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ A woodland path in dappled sun hushed and quiet so kind and full of promise she leads me on through boughs of inspiration where dancing sunlight touch delicate my soul and lofty birds sing in a private sanctuary only for me How grateful I am for the hand of God has gently shown heavenly melody with each gracious stroke drifting in waters pure and free a gift of proverb bring silent understanding I breath each moment in with deep and grateful breath for in this slight moment of life completion I have found ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ First Two Lines Written By : A Rambling Poet ~ Constance La France Contest ~ A Woodland Path Poet ~ Rick Parise June-9-2011
__________________________________________ As spring joyfully arrives brilliant blue skies and vast green fields come to life peering from the rich soil an Easter Lily opens with beauty with large white trumpet shaped flowers and gracious green stems climbing high the music of the lords returned began to blow streaming far and wide a celebration had begun a celebration of eternal life I gaze at the cross in deep loving thought as each miraculous miracle came to light O' Lord God Almighty this day brings gratitude and thanksgiving for you..... staying faithful to the point of death and giving your life, so that each may dwell divine I thank you Lord I thank you peering from the rich soil an Easter Lily sings praise __________________________________________ CONTEST
The wind howled ice-cold, clear-sky lullabies and awoke the moon, who gazed, heavy-lidded, at the stars around her Leaves and dust danced sambas and pirouetted along the desert's river, who was shivering uncontrollably while midnight birds struggled to fly upstream against the manic, stinging, musical currents of turbulence and wonder
Until I've seen, Melbourne days was not just emptiness in play I know I'll see What I didn't see, the September soaked symphony of Vivaldi vines climbing, jacaranda booms, tremolo spilling eaves Until you know this suburban kid's righted the wrong I'll verse on my way, you as the bridges in my song Making choruses of dreams that could soon belong And urban princes and their Porsches Lost in winters, cold in summers They adore to ornate you, over muskwood and glassy silvers But can they look up to the night, And know wonder in the sight? In that blue-hued veiled Van Gogh I see your stars These hardened hands carrying letters I send will wear me down to some sorry end And this I know But I'll go knowing the Chapel charade was the pretty noise of sonnets chasing sunsets, drunk Welsh poets tearing tails for London wisps Until it comes, a northern boy without southerly blues The swaying Yarrans, sparkling flutes, Victorian flues Keeps Flinders Station stepping full of over-priced shoes And boney bonny dames, old money games Skirts for winters, surgeons for gains They climb to lower you, for fifteen lights upon their names But can they look up to the night, And know wonder in the sight? In that blue-hued veiled Van Gogh I see your stars
SPRING NOT YET Not quite yet Winds humming steady even Yet blowing in minor mode The cloud layer vast high Relentless with no whisper of blue Over coffee my window view Offers a shiver but no temptation I sense (with fancied feet) An Earth just beginning to squish Yet with forbidding firmness beneath Torn by nature's shredder Lay scraps of all variety poking heads There is no hint nor harbinger of gayety In a scene with absent southern touch Even Tiger – my puss – is reluctant To venture out Spring? I can only close-eyed visualize
The clouds shook A thick, black, very wet blanket out In the Southeastern quadrant Of the New Mexico firmament, Complete with lightning And growling, crackling, Massive basso-profundo sound effects, Inviting the sun to rest, Take a load off, Reeellaaaxxx! Abrasively radiant, Helios glared a brilliant, heated, passionate, Steamy smile Into the arid monsoon skies And refused Storm's invitation To lie down and go to bed
Descend, delicate rain of doom. Spatter quietly in insistent breeze. Break, gold and red, as branches sneeze. Burn a stack of saddened leaves. Agitate limbs to nakedness. You are my fall. I am your slave until winter's uncivilized brawl wipes life away. It's still October. The glorious hiatus warms me and then will rapidly be gone; a tale re-told. Kathryn Collins October 14, 2013
Arnold gazed eastward, squinting. His callused hands hung by thumbs hooked to his belt. He had beaten the rooster by at least an hour, and his hands lit a pipe in celebration. A cool breeze passed through, teasing the plowed field, the chimes, and his arms. The barn stood sturdy, ready for the season. Seasoned tools hung on the new walls. The screen door behind him swung and she stood next to him on the porch, his hand stroked her back. She looked at him, he peered eastward, a subtle smile concealing a laugh, "It's going to be a good year."
The plains have become a quilted patchwork Dotted with combines, tractors and trucks the fall harvest is loaded in the bins Harvest complete for another season The evenings now pick up a chill The sun's light fades earlier with seasonal change Birds that adorned the trees have taken flight Heading south with early mornings light Flocks of birds gather near watering holes Finding bits of grain left on the fields The greenery of summer fades into past While autumn's bold colors show Leaves cascade to the earth below Soon to be covered by winter's snow.
A September chill pierces the morning cutting through my open window. Sharp air nips past naked ankles as Autumn nibbles into my day. Wasps sift September with regret buzzing the fading scent of roses. Tart apples sweep mellow branches savouring a wind sweetened rain. Chestnut burrs bristle spiny green pregnant with mahogany clusters. Crumpled leaves huddle in garden corners crunching crooked for warmth. MMC © 2011
The light that loses, the night that wins And time remembered is grief forgotten And frosts are slain and flowers begotten, and in green underwood and cover Blossom by blossom the spring begins Algernon Charles Swinburne Begotten Blossoms Depths of darkness, deep earth, night and Winter- these are alchemy for Spring Plain brown,dormant bulbs bring forth such magic things Time and motion turning light re-cycle joy and grief And memories as old as time, are formed from lives so brief Our Mother earth has tolerance-all things she abides Over forgotten scars her forests creep; her shores are washed in healing tides Cloud and mist and miracle bring forth the flowers of spring snowdrop, asphodel, hyacinths renewing every dream A sweet millenium of Springs like clockwork cycle round And so, we watch for them to come, blossom by blossom . Suzanne Delaney
Making Hay by Kevin Fairbrother … Gradually winter fades, spring has begun The ground will warm up, the grass will grow The winter rains, the spring sunshine, now for summer This will make the grass grow and grow … The hot days with storms and rain The grass is getting longer every day Time to prepare the mower and hay rake And make sure the baler is in ship shape … Plenty of grease in all moving places The knives sharpened, bolts replaced Machinery is ready for the harvest Come December and hot dry weather … The disc mower attached to the tractor Whirs into action to mow down the grass Cutting the grass close to the ground, lays it flat In the 10 acre paddock on the river flat … The paddock all cut in neat flat rows Will need lots of sunshine to dry it out A couple of warm hot days be ready to turn Once turned another day be ready to bale … The baler hooked up begins to thump As the pick-up feeds in the dry grass The needle whirs and threads the string The first bale rolls off the machine … Hour after hour the baler spits out bales Soon the paddock is filled with square bales The men move in with the flat tray truck Load the bales with sweat and strength … The bales carted and under cover The hay making machines now quite The men gather around for a beer and a feed The hay making done for another year
Along the crossing of a river bank I see currents enchanted by your smile even rainbows mimic your spotless splendor Words slip from my sluggish thoughts as i paint your nature with poetry The truth of your beauty, already written Nothing else should replace like wings need not rest on another wings to fly or rather a dew to your rosy cheek I am here, wandering with the carried waves catching cadence of how unknown rhymes are made out of your turbulent tides I threw gazes at the stars shining on you and emotions evolve out of how much I want you to "be mine"
Whispering into my heart her love; softly times touch... Years which have claimed harmonic dreams as cradled Tenderly within her arms; warmth these notes pressed Betwixt the seasons from that the very start; a melody Playing joyful her bosom; dripping in velvets sweetest Honeycomb; closing gently my eyes to taste, this kiss... While the world rages outside its endless wars; tearful Their own crimson sheets of stained, by sorrows voice Shouting from atop burning cliffs; still melting aneath Melancholy, somber skies; your side my side their side Disarray as blind hate fans it's flames reaching toward The stars that they may speak; whispering into heart's A melodies soft touch; banishing such nights of refrain... No more, betwixt reasons seasons playing now, joyfuls Velvet hopes amid this the sweetest, honeycomb's kiss ,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,, ..."Love's Lullaby" *
Birds chirp by jarfuls in twilight dawn. The sun could stand correction in the hesitation of fulfillment. The planets & stars roll off the table of sky, plop in the puddle of lakes serene as maniacs in straight jackets. The wind mumbles it isn't so. The unbend poplars don't care, and children aren't children anymore.
Grass is green, flowers bloom, bees are buzzing The sunshine gleams so bright, warm and golden The sky is blue and clear, almost here is the spring. Here is jolly March wind playing jokes with fun Turning umbrellas inside out, fragrant fresh air Whispering in each ear to wake up seeds soon. Never mind March! You are not bad, or in anger You are only blowing the winter away for April It is the rainbow month of spring time shower. Lots of pretty flowers bright with lilacs and daffodil The shining roofs, summer in light, winter in shades The little clouds go by with the windy warm April. Oh, happy sounds of May! Hum of the buzzing bees The song of gentle breeze, chirping of birds younger The days are warm, by the evening fresh air cools. Spring- the taste of prosperity, of adversity in winter, The twig bare in winter, in spring green with glitters Spring is recognized not by men but by plants sooner. Month of May comes, makes to blossom all lusty hearts Like herbs and trees do to bring the fruit and flourish Boost lambs and lovers to spring and flourish in lusty deeds. +++ August 22, 2014 Form: Free Verse Fourth Place Win Contest: Season's bliss by Regina
Yesterday she left , warm and sunny ,all pleasant and funny Spend some time with me she said, for soon I will leave I lingered many months, my season ends , I will come again so don't bereave Gone are the long summer evenings full of crickets ,cicadas and fireflies flickering light, Blinking their secret codes, mysterious and magic , in plain sight Marking time with the pale yellow moon passing thru starry fields of dark summer nights Fall sweeps in, proclaiming loud and clear, the death of summer is now so near The seeds run full nourishing the land , acorns dropping ,and everything ripens, Soon the trees will change their skin and like magic a new life appears From vibrant green to orange, red and yellow Long slow and rolling , dark green and pale ,the waves tamed and mellow, carry their lament Carrying a sharp edge the cold ,damp wind brings sudden intent Grey banks of clouds, long and low stretch to the horizon with their rainy content Soon Jackets and jeans ,sweatshirts and sleeves will take their rightful place , Layer upon layer will I make of bare legs and chests that were openly seen The deserted beaches , falling skies, pale and pink, all proclaim the long rest is now at hand Painted pumpkins all in a row dot the land with orange and black Mister owl haunts the night in his favorite wood on wing and nightcap While lingering over bare earth and frosted fields of yellow corn and golden ripe wheat Couples and lonely people ,walking silently, hand in hand, hurry back to their retreat And sailboats huddle close together on dry land almost within reach and wistfully watch the sea And I will sit near a warm glowing fire, book in one hand, sipping hot cocoa or tea
When the final Autumn leaf spirals to the ground, and a warm Chinook breeze is no longer found. Bears retreat to their seasonal slumber, as snowflakes approach in abundant numbers. Mother Nature steps down from her post. As old man Winter prepares as new host. A starving North wind arrives in his horseless carriage, preparing to join hearts with the Earth in marriage. Thus for many eve's they shall bind in wedlock. Till Spring rises from the shadows to create a new flock.
I breathe the beginning of new life in the spring I feel the gentle gift of life giving rain I see the newborn Fawn standing on her own I plant the seeds of my hunger, hues of Flowers, easy on the Eyes The warmth of the Summer Sun, heats my heart and Soul The soft summer rain splashes in the Gardens The vegetables grow while Flowers rainbow the scenery The gentle wind whispers with the melody of the songbirds As the Hues of the leaves sparkle along the Landscape As fall's sunsets rainbow the colorful sights below As the Northwind slowly begins to show it's rage As nature's creatures scurry to fill for winter's wrath When the winter wind begins to howl barren trees stand tall When the angery snow defiles Mother Nature's Beauty When the Ice shimmers upon the frozen lakes When I look I see the beauty of my life, my Home
Wrapped in her ethereal, misty cloak Awakening senses to poignant changes As crisp winds brush away last summer's dust Soft sunrays filter through sparse golden-hued leaves Wrapped in her ethereal misty cloak Blindly, I find my way through thick, dank fog And while lost in the maze, sometimes I lose my cool When I taste the bitter edge of what could have been Wrapped in her ethereal misty cloak Autumn breathes hope for the weary of heart To smile in the face of cynicism means I'm alive With a spirit to grow and a heart that is open and deep ~*~
Ah, the september weather is here, the trees turn firery red and orange, and the leaves gently fall to the surface. Fall is here, and the grass turns from green to yellow, the souls of many change their ways. From going on beaches in sun to walking on wet streets, with jackets on. September weather is here, too most it is depressing to see, such change in the world. But I love it. The girlfriends and boyfriends go away, and that makes me happy. Then I go apple picking. I pick red apples, from low, hanging apple trees. and I eat one, while walking down the trail. Fall is here, the time of death, the last of sunshine. I don't argue, I love fall, it is so cosy and it gives me hope. Hope that a day will come again, when the sun pops its head out and the warmth returns. September weather is the best, when summer is gone, but not quite, and the cool breeze sweaps through your open windowpane. I love fall, it gives me hope, that with death comes life.
The poem is to be written by itself: Like life looking for the trembling instant of luminescent lucidity; Like lovable faces and the old lullaby ... Like logarithms in a looking-glass of the same fable. Like the old loom bringing us common recollections; This February like a loop-hole in the winter`s wall Is ready to give us the space where you paint the other seasons. Facetious,facile fag running in the fair falters an old truth About this famine of poetry whose fan you and me still are. Fastidious February in a fashionable far-fetched fatigue Ready to find fault with somebody else... Feline February near the fence looks at the fireplace Where feelings of glass become our every day fix. February,flabbergast us with your flag in the flavor of hope.
Navy blue bucolic blinds Sneakers on the front porch Songs never heard Place to lay your head When summer comes to pass Didn't know you cared About why I cared Dreams in drawers Tucked away and folded So square Crease down the middle Wrinkles on a sleeve Pressed to young to answer Loves lost and in between Sand between our toes Schlitz beer, oh so warm Tumble on the beach Umbrella in the sand Crabs and muscles boil Till Dad calls us in Mom is on the phone Johnny's back from college Dreams of summer I remember them so well In this cold dark temple I was left to dwell But I will come home And be free When the case worker Lets it be.
~}{~ A soft breeze blows Just enough to feel it upon your face A brand new season has just begun A season full of colours.. The sky crystal blue Lush green grass sparkles in the morning dew Crisp falling leaves ablaze earthy sienna and browns Deep red and ochre so ambrosial Blanket the ground in amber and russet shades Leaving trees naked to the cool winds.. ~}{~ By Tracie x For Autumn Splendor Poetry Contest
Tonight, the full moon blooms And foils the looming gloom. The remnant doom from noon Has lost it's bullish tune. And embraces dusk's eerie cool. The village square it illuminates Arena of moonlight tales of late The little ones gather and wait While the elderly engage in debates And the goats noisily ruminates The bright night, lights sparks Of bliss and joy in trees' barks The tall iroko whistle in parks Where young lovers end their tracks And skimpy skirts lose their tacks The son of perdition frets unsure The thief in the night fears exposure The pirate sailor steers from ashore The night fisherman denied action For the kind light bathes the ocean Tonight, the full moon beams proud As the town crier makes his round Belting forth a piercing sound. While the town's chorus echoes loud The stage is set for the yearning crowd
Fall has come and with it the march of the NY Giants Dangerous game! But the players do it for the glory (and the not inconsequential financial rewards) I will watch the game Sunday on TV I have good friends that don't like the game But I get thrilled when the NY Giants win My uncle met Tiki Barber(of the Giants) I remember going to an Orthodox shul I went to as a youth Someone said "What's the score?" with a smile Autumn has arrived
As she lays sweating under the hot, yet comforting blanket she bites her lip, balls her hands into her fists just to keep from screaming and falling to sleep. Dancing on her walls are the shadows! Shadows you couldn't even imagine they seem to be grinning at her as if they knew something she did not know. Do they know something are they trying to tell her what there is to come? She can hear someone or something calling her now; she does not know what it is and does not want to know either. As the voice gets closer it becomes more frightening and louder and louder. Slowly the tears dwell up in her eyes and than burst rolling down her like a balloon ready to pop. Several hours ago by the windows she saw 'ghoulish' activity, her eyes are heavy fighting to stay awake a little longer so she will know when every thing ends. She falls asleep to wake up later realizing that it was not a dream but 'Halloween'.
At 10 A.M on Friday 13th July The Sun emerged from a cloud. After five minutes shining bright thought, 'Sod this, I'm going back to bed. right now' The Weather King called up Rain But only got an answer phone. Thor the God of thunder, was sick in bed. An accident with a hammer it was thought. Try as he might, the Weather King Could not find someone to replace The stubborn immovable Sun. Who was now working to rule. A better deal was his demand. It was agreed for shorter hours And if Sun was late rising Overcast would cover the time. Longer holidays was also agreed. Fourty-eight to fifty weeks per year. So if you want to see Summer Sun. Don't blink when looking in England, Because he might not be there.
October is crowned with glory. She is touched with Heaven's glow. The seasons declare her rise to glory Her majestic laurel-leafed crown in magnificent display, with jeweled leaves adorned. O northern wind, command her before thee to bow, and cast forth her golden crown. Lay her upon forest floors of crushed velvet brown. Her reign deposed she now lies in November's leafless repose for Brian Strand's contest 1st place win Note: some how my poem and comments were completely erased
It was a majestic sunrise as a honeyed circle rose behind tall silhouette trees emanating wonder and peace an apple sun with a bite bitten the garden of Eden flashed my mind as a partial eclipse of the sun glowed a very special good morning watching the moon circle the sun
For whosoever feels lonely here is my hand I guided up the sun, so you could see better For whosoever fears doubt I talked about myself failing you Though you never saw it You just noticed me Standing like a statue Right behind you all along Hoping that you won't look back For even I might start to reconsider How tough I posed in your defence How unstable my heart spake all along But glancing is your eyes, daunted with tears Let me blow a wind to dry I bled just like you mayber brighter For our color is the same But the wounds were inflicted By different momentum So I am a shield But not from a storm Even God told me, We all had our seasons to mourn But I am of a barrier of not leaving you behind For even in our seasons Do our crops seek nourishment I know your dry So I became moist I know your soaked So here is my warmth I seen you smile By my giving joke I heard you anger By my wrath I see you sleep Of a lullaby I am your light When your soul is tainted with darkness I am your darkness When the light causes you to blind I will be your opposite When the same reeks of ordinary Just a little spice I have created For our feast of many treats In this season let us all rise And be our own balance of our life
For Raul's "White Pumpkin" contest. Pale ghost of Autumn, Deep wrinkles on her weathered face... Poor relation of her rubicund cousins, Never chosen for jack-o-lantern ... But inside, where it matters, Her blushing flesh tastes of Summer, Warm, Sweet, Golden Summer.
Sunshine turned to cold sleet Palm trees froze in place Tourists walked down white streets. to shop for hats and boots Beach boys left the beaches; Surfboards were turned to sleds. Rather than surfing waves they slid down Diamond Head. No more graceful hula; grass skirts became passé. Dressed in lederhosen, slap-polka was the rage. Don Ho found a new song to thrill his many fans 'Tiny toddies,' every- one, makes us all feel warm. Suzanne Delaney
The north woods forest Brings voices with the first cold Fall wind Swirling chants, a pitch above the Crisp wind, fill my ears With Native American chants I listen closely Warnings best heeded Of what's ahead Drumming in the background High-pitched shouts mixed With victory chants My spidey sense is on full Alert Strength fills my limbs My boomerang sack is near The door, must remember to bring my Bullroarers Thanking the wind before I throw Tomorrow Trusted old 'rangs From makers long dead Call out to me "I'm ready, old friend" My left arm remembers How to throw My favorite booms remember How to fly They like fall In Minnesota 09/13/13 © All Rights Reserved
The once crowded beach is now deserted Not a sandcastle or deckchair is in sight The golden sands lay pristine Blue waves gently lapping the shore Summer sun sets low in the evening sky Plum, lilac, pinks and orange hues Paint the sky like an artists brush Night falls quickly with a deathly hush Autumn leaves now crunch under our feet Painting the pavement with brown and gold tones The trees stripped bare and vulnerable Skeleton like twigs reveal their naked beauty The colder nights are drawing in With a biting chill in the autumn air Snuggled up in our winter coats Hats scarves and gloves our constant friends 08~29~14 Contest: Summer's End Sponsored by Kelly Deschler
Suntanned toes Submerged and swirling tepid water In lazily summer circles While I float Dangling fingers, barely skimming the surface Hypnotic lapping little waves Caress the warm plump vinyl inner tube While I float Strands of hair dipping into the lake As I gaze upward at Forever bright blue summer sky And clouds like carded cotton fibers Floating slowly by Sun kissed thighs and freckled knees Bobbing slightly with the breeze While I float And perfect summer flows Around my suntanned toes
You saunter through the double doors Head held high Chest puffed out Putting on airs You think you're so clever, so deceiving Showing up baring the most ornate mask But I see right through The mask that you wear tonight You think it will conceal You think just tonight In this hour You can be somebody else But you're dancing with the Belle of the Ball This is MY Masquerade And this is the 147th event You just don't recognize me Because I wear a different mask each time Your mask is cheap material Sequins missing, feathers askew Such feeble attempts I smell your bravado Putrid and reeking, stinking up the air But I see right through I've donned masks my whole life That's why I am the bearer of this sash That you see around my neck "Strongest Person I Know" But I allow no one to gaze under the mask Sure I play the Belle oh so well But if you all saw beneath Saw WHY I've had to wear masks You'd strip me of my title You'd rip off my sash Break the pearls from my neck You'd run for the door tonight Quicker than Cinderella at the stroke of midnight That's the beauty of a Masquerade You can pretend to be something you're not When one guise becomes worn When it loses its sparkle It's glamour and charm That first catches your eye Well it's quite alright Because I have a treasure trove BURSTING with masks Grab another and keep dancing Twirling the night away Never skipping a beat But when the music finally comes to an end When the door closes and the final guest departs Empty wine glasses are seen scattered all around The only sound is the echo of my heels When the confetti lies lifeless on the floor That's when I remove my mask Exhausted, worn and weary When I gladly, almost desperately Take off my tattered sash And throw it beneath my feet Because I'm not resilient and strong now I feel weak, frail and reclusive in my realm That's when the tears start to brim That's when I wish someone else held the title So stripped and naked Alone to clean up the mess Everyone else has left behind But there's no one to there to pick up the sash Just me and the sound of my tears Echoing as they hit the floor Almost fearfully I pick up the sash Dust off the confetti Smooth out the wrinkles Before placing it back around my neck As I throw my shoulders back Standing taller than ever Wiping away tears that no one saw I walk back to my trunk My trunk of the most decorative Ornate, obscuring masks Finding another to wear As I prepare for the next façade The next Masquerade
THE CHANGING OF THE SEASONS When summer ends, autumn begins. The leaves fall from the trees. Such a beautiful sight and done so spiritually. Magical is the change of the seasons into the New Year. I saw a red bird today and enjoyed her chirping. Gathering food, she was on my window sill. Pillared to be quite successful, her tiny wings went a flight. The red beak is all that was seen as she entered the sky. Absolutely beautiful is when the leaves fall from the trees. Summer has ended with autumn's inception. I can feel the breeze. ________________________________________| PENNED ON AUGUST 30, 2014!
I feel the summer day that slowly Climbs up to my being I hear the music of summer breeze, It makes my heart dancing Hello, summer I wanted to sing Closely at the rainbow sky And embrace the clouds That spring through the air Hello, summer Time has come to see you once again I see the clear blue sky, That invokes me to fly high I feel my spirit rise and Soar like a wind, Birds shall chant in every grove And winds will puff its power from above Hello, summer I shall walk on the fields of meadow And the trees are my shade From the sunlight that you'd give Soon, the fragrance of flowers Will go with my rambling Would you sing together? With the dancing clouds at the sky These forests soon shall dance again The mountains can evenly hear your song And the falling waters shall be sung with you Wide streams adhere listening in their fall But soon the sun with gentle rays Will fall down to the cool ocean Where his voyage ends Hello summer, I will see you again Written By : Cheryl Aldea Summer Contest - ( Debbie Guzzie)
There's a house in a field somewhere A sea of a sky out there Begging to be born again With my hands to till, Your heart, and a windmill A weathervane that tries Without the presence of your eyes Is a tree fell without a sound There's a tin roof for me to mend A simple truth ne'er to bend I would tend to your need Gift my patience, and give heed Hands to work, to be calloused To grow these gardens green To build your everything As the seasons roll through And the heavens fade from blue We'll lift a catch, and fill our barrel There is nothing we cannot abide No beasts from which to hide A hummingbird, our neighbor Enjoys the fruits of our labor A stream running rampant down a hill A hammock rests in the shade Sway there, let your eyes fade A cedar porch, it's brand new Built with devotion, it's just for you I will never grow weary from this As addicted to the breeze As the troubles you ease You belong here on my arm We'll resurrect this rusted farm Simpleness and solitude abound Breaking free of our past Together, in love, at last
The Four Seasons Winter, Spring, Summer and Fall, Four seasons in a year. In each season are three months, I'll try to make this clear; Winter is the coldest season, It's between fall and spring. Mother Nature goes to sleep, It is the coolest thing; Spring is when flowers bloom, And tree buds begin to sprout. Migrating birds fly back home, Along a familiar route; Summer is the warmest season, It's between Spring and Fall, Fun in the sun is the reason, I like summer best of all; Fall is when the leaves turn colors, Red, yellow, orange and brown. As the winter season approaches, They tumble to the ground; Winter, Spring, Summer and Fall, I like summer best of all!
Clouds garland snow capped mountain peak Icy snow butterflies melt kisses upon my nose Puffs of warm, moist breath balloons billow out before me, quickly chilling, disappearing before my eyes Crunching snow compacts beneath booted feet Prints set deep, little more than momentary reminder of where you have stepped before Crisp white blanket glints almost winking it's Christmas card welcome as it's vast white carpet spreads before you beckoning All of nature along with everything manmade becomes anew Nothing seems out of place A bird lands on branch of tree causing cascade of padded canopy New mound takes position with little noticed effect on perfect landscape Children laugh and run as they hurl packed balls at one another Dashing, darting, ducking and returning rogue ammunition to offending hand and screams of pleasure Slipping, falling they tumble over repeatedly Waving arms and legs, when finally still to create snow angels Then, standing up clothed as abominable snowman Giving rise to fresh ideas as new creation begins with rolling snow Bigger and bigger they chase and push, packing tight as they go Another ball a little smaller to place on top of first for head Then off they scatter in all directions looking to clothe their model Returning with woollen hat scarf carrot and stones to place as eyes nose and mouth with button features Admiring they know their masterpiece shall be short-lived For mother nature's hand will chance to create another slushy muddy puddle
Each crap life takes Fertilizes the world Ah! Smell the spring air
Upon the flushing milieu of twilight, Vague shadows of the ranch hands brook. A proud slow march on hackneyed legs, In the slow emergence of autumn's dusk. Today's sullied labor grimes the worn denim chaps, In the dawn to dusk harvest of the seasons haying. An aching exhaustion on sweat muddied faces, The price and the pride of the old rancher's toils. Barns piled high from the summers green fields, The homestead prepares for the silver of winter. Lost in the muted glow of sunset's backdrop, The prairie echoes thanks with a soft cowboy song.
Our Ancestors fought to the death, Just so we can live a brighter day, So before you light up that blunt of meth, Think about what you're giving away, It was a glad day in history when Obama rose to victory, The first black president was all we knew, Dark skin is in! Haven't you heard? That even in our community, You can get burned, It's a sad day when people would rather stay home and "Crank That Amber Cole", Than get up and run to a poll, In our community, Rockin' Luis V is better than having a college degree, And teen pregnancy is not only a trend, But the single motherhood that follows should end, Young girls learn of a wonderful prince to take them away, Nothing should change thought their mothers prince didn't stay, And as the tears fade away, She grows stronger every day, In our community, Fighting is no longer a word, You argue with someone and shots are heard, Girls showing places the sun don't show, So how do they expect the community to grow? Where love is a figment of imagination, Making a young child question her creation, Young mothers would rather buy the iPhone 5, Then satisfy her baby's cries, While her new man's eye, Wander up another girl's thighs, In our community, Where #team dark skin vs #team light skin, Makes others not love the skin they're in, Love, lust, hate, and trust, Giving a rose on Valentine's Day is no longer a must, Where bad is good and good is bad, Who would think to see their grandmother sad? Her hurt and pain, Shows how our community has lost everything her parents fought to gain.
< encircling mountain's crest... the mighty eagle .. soars amidst wetlands standing erect the blue huron toppling muskrat homes waiting for mice and shrews colonies emerge shrub trees and lagoons to bond butterflies flutter medows of greenish hues snaphots taken afar this is all I could do catails ~ sway ~ sounds ~ thunder pheasants fly off in frenzy braided and despaired yet forges right on ahead they live see another day night ~ time's ~ calling ~ for ~ the ~ wise ~ old ~ owl bidding feathered friends well ado's A combination of Monoku, Quintain {English } Tanka & Crystalline For Constance LaFrance's For {Four } Beautiful Birds Contest Written by Katherine Stella 5/8/2011
A sanctuary Attacked by lightening Smoldering embers
< No Guts ! No Glory ! C H I C K E N !!! My Unique Line By K.S. Chicken I Will Try Anything Once Esp When Comes To Daredevil Adventures Skydiving Skiing Hot Air Balloon Entry For P.D. Contest The Most Impressive Line
AUTUMN SCENE Something framed within tells an autumn scene Though grass be still green Flowers yet bloom in lively color A lonely bush flaps the protective white house siding Southward leans And o'er the rooftops Clouds blown dizzy in confusion Race against the Moon Billow such far away grays That something contained within Tells of autumn days
The woods echo with the stillness of a newly- fallen snow. Moonlight beams glisten upon a frozen lake of deep sapphire hues. Icicles adorned with a reflective mirrored glow. Barren trees dressed in delicate icy lace, and feathery flakes of silvery blue, white iridescent silk gowns of powdery snow billow and flow, amid crystal ice teardrops of branch chandeliers escorted on the arm of the northern wind, dance a minuet to winter's Hymn
And along came the lil' Spring flowers, in there amongst the springing grass Distended visions before me, as if I were not there In the garden yesss the flowers did belong, and I at the distance yesss where I did fit in I felt the soft heat and that scream; "it's Spring !"
In September knights are rambling around the streets. Forgotten heroes in the wrong season Search for their hunted castles on a wet sand. Rain is washing out all those promises summer has spread, is cleaning each illusion, With colorless tears of Heaven. In September mountains are growing higher And seas pulsate around melodies of the wind, Around the past, around leaves' changing breath, Around the Season's final quest. In these lonely days, which carry the weight of a change, Like Sisyphus plate, I was born.
Beauty Calls Soaring on the melody of a meadow lark Bathing in a whippoorwills love sonnet Slumbering to the soothing coo of doves Under my nightlight made from the stars Cool is the night, safe is my bed In the hands of the old oak, I rest All of the night sleeps in silence A voice in itself that is loud Dawn will lift her countenance A peek, a look then a smile Warming our day with a new hope And a dewy kiss of revival Ribbons of color inhabit our vision Saplings begin to stretch in growth Caretakers rise early to till and water Blooms bare their full faces toward the sun Sadly too many miss this miracle Caught up in life's daily grind Take but a moment, watch a day birth Know that it breaks anew just for you Carole Cookie Arnold 02/10/2011
Vital fluids slowly drip into the bucket below. Caught in black and white landscape of trees, snow and shadow in the early dawn. our breath forms clouds but breathing in we smell woodsmoke and new maple syrup. Surely the sweetest sign of spring.
So the leaves are falling now, and in color, are turning While young hearts, from summer, still burning Running through life, love's wings, oh how they're earning They are growing, and life's lessons, they're learning And so now a new day is dawning Where things won't be the same For in my heart, passion's spawning Here come the Winds of Change... Now something new awaits us Just across the summer horizon Taking over now, just fate's lust Oh how the Winds are Changin'... Loving more and more each and every day Where hearts are running free, and never slowing Will this feeling, just for awhile stay? The Winds of Change are blowing... Now the Winds of Change are storming From across the sparkling western sea New outlooks on life and love, they're forming In a couple years, where will love be? But what is it now that I'm feeling? It's something pretty strange My world is shaking now, and reeling Thanks to the Winds of Change
Two of four seasons to me are all the rage Winter and fall turn the season's page From multiple colors To pristine white snow The end of the year Brings holidays flow For family's gathered to share bountiful feast To the inviting glow Of a warm Christmas wreath This is a time that I love the most With family, love and kinship I share this toast… Happy Holiday! Eric (and sometimes not)
The chill of an autumn morning Rising steam as the fallen leaves exhale The lonesome trees have given up their glory A carpet of red, yellow, orange, and brown An overcast sky with no definition Is but a blur Movement indiscernible There is wisdom in the sky, revealed to a few The smoke of the day's first fire ascends Wafting its familiar fall fragrances Brings warmth and comfort to the soul And campsite memories of long ago We pass the bleak and barren cornfield Stippled with autumn's harbingers The Raven They stare with the blackest of black eyes
A zephyr rustles the edges of my kite A vivid sail aloft against the clouds My thoughts, blue sky and a spring breeze A gust and I am taken away, breathless
As summer dreams dive into certain sorrows of the sun, A brilliant indifference burns inside our season's song. Fast fading, the Sundown of a fire wrapped truth sputters into endless night . The ebb and flow.......... the undertow................ there on the ocean's floor, The ambiance, the glare,the glance, of lovers bored with love. Like seashell dreams.......... tossed up beyond the tide and not retrieved......... We leave................ Our ride across the summer sky is done, A faint corona clinging to your tongue, The trappings of our joys fade to Fall, and through it all................ the Sun.
I'm like a lion Tryin to be trained to behave in a cage, but I wasnt born to be tame Full of stress and rage Im compressed and chained Infected with depression beCause I cant catch a break Lifes taste is so tart In pain from my scars Stained by lame luck Stuck behind apace car I strive to write But all I can type is the space bar I'm Pervaded with doubt About to freakout Quick Someone bail me out I would sniff my way out but I got this cyst on my snout From 6 years of this drought Im sittin with this could of pout Stickin to me like jam from a can like melted candy in your hand I'M a pantree full of Spam A Letter without the stamp A debtor without a plan Like chicken on a pan without any Pam, Damn I'm starting to get pissed I got to devise a plan, before I break my fist, Punching this brick wall, I got the spit but no ball got the wits with no squall, like a toliet with no stall Slippin in a pit fall, Shiz just snow balls I want to brawl, missed last call My Stick shift just stalled, This lawl has no intention at stopin at all And I'm kicking myself in the balls like old men walking up and down the halls so i flop, just like a dust mop Now i got knots in my food box The size of king kongs rocks and Every door has been locked I try to soar but its all for not
There is hope that lies dormant in that seed collection in a jar, placed carefully by ancient ancestors on a shelf. Heritage tomatoes may blossom in that spring of hopes. The hoe will etch the rows and the years will keep the tune. A fabric for sewing is waiting for the deft hands of the Maker. The Maker plants the seeds, and sews the pattern into clothes. And we who are less dump our hopes into the rubbish of regret. There is a Maker and a Caretaker who sprouts the kernel, and fine combs the cotton. Be it by hope or faith we plant; we go sowing seeds in spring and sit weaving in the winter. And we wait.
Slowly and gently fall unfurls its golden splendor The flowering glory of summer fades away The September breezes whisper goodbye to warmer sunny days Fog hangs deep in the valleys laden with the breath of frost Bounteous fields bathed in molten gold, gleam in pale sunlight beams The land is etched with touches of autumns crimson blush Each tender falling leaf is but a tear shed by September's muse A kaleidoscope of color her tear stained ode to summer's end
As the dawn expells its authoritive cast; they awake, but are abandoned. They turn--but their friend the sun ignores and they understand. They commune their relationship and part with their memories; and sigh. They say their good-byes in a tone of fullfilment, but aface their anxieties toward the skies for hope; but are denied. A clouded sky brings a chill in the air and a rustling of rakes and flames. Old as hell, written in HS for publication, circa 1971 by me. When I was young in the 60's in Ohio, we burned leaves in our backyard; sometimes our household trash too. You had to be me to be there GV. Count me in as last place. Take care.
Crimson leaves, like rubies, glisten with dew in morning sunlight A sea of red, expanding daily, buffers the steps of early risers… sneakers quickly wet from daily daybreak runs Stretching out the clocks agendas to meet no time for fun A strolling elder couple enjoying the richness of the scene realizing quickly that the view beckons more than lingered pause and wonders in amazement how one ignores it without due cause Gifted jewels appreciated by wiser eyes in evenings stage harvest autumn sights with seasoned delightful awe… and like a child, garnering anew the glorious wonder of it all Crimson leaves, like rubies, last only for a season quickening joy in later years ©Debra Squyres 2013
Lying still Windswept Held fast by the grime of years The view never changes Slowly you give to the wind and as the mountain of dirt succumbs you drift without direction then stumble upon a friend with minds alike you join forces to escape this filthy prison running down, down ever faster with each new friend at last to drip from the cill
So the summertime stayed all winter, And Amy was washing ponies down. We were a weary collection of skin touchers. Though nothing was ever conniving Or deliberate. We made haste to make room for laughter… We sung like crocodiles under the moon. We only used food stamps, even if we have truckloads of the stuff. We cried a lot. Not knowing why and not caring. We felt like individuals, though we knew nothing was disconnected. Every season does what it wants. And it appears summertime stayed forever.
crimson and cream is the scene you will see at an oklahoma sooners football game. crimson and cream are the colors of the oklahoma football team. crimson and cream are the inspiration of the sooner schooner. crimson and cream are seen all over the ou campus all year long. crimson and cream are the colors you will msee on an oklahoma sooner fan. crimson and cream thats what its all about for me, im an oklahoma sooner fan born and bred...........
Placid river mirrors the majesty in nature oh glorious spring I succumb to your charms majestic crisp white blankets hiding the green beneath Bound to earth are the trees with growing leaves they search by day and shimmer by night holding spring starlight like diamond shrines The sky makes way to heaven in purity reflecting off the winter it mirrors waiting for the rebirth of life Creatures slumbered waiting for spring waking to stretch opening eyes briefly uncurling mouths open wider ready to anew What a beautiful discover spring is under sun and moon shimmering iridescent colors how could one not see this beauty of mountain, lake or river Beautifully arranged in it's simplicity yet, no other could paint such a master piece oh glorious spring your splendor I behold indeed
In February? Sun burn from looking up at the sky? My Oh My… Yes, it's so very nice and warm. The trees are blooming and it warms my heart. Even the groundhog came out, smiled, and looked around… Six more weeks of this winter? The Best there's been… I'll get out my Valentine trappings tomorrow at dawn. Then I will go get our leaf blower and make it to blow… Bubbles and Valentine hearts high in the air…everywhere… When my Hubby reaches our home and walks in the door… I'll cover him in hearts full of love… with kisses galore… Yes, I'll show him my heart… As he walks in… I'm sure… On Valentine's Day our hearts will soar, again… Happy Valentine's Day to All and your Loves…
HERE TODAY GONE TOMORROW Here today gone tomorrow Thanksgiving and Christmas Day We forget I hate to say Colors – uplifting music The great festival of friends Hosannas joy without end Chapel bells on Christmas Eve Yearly drive to see the lights Giant tree oh what a sight! Amazing special passions Filled with hope and constancy Resolutions don't you see Quite a metamorphosis Amnesia like a shroud Head in light above gray clouds Five great weeks of fantasy A magic spell to be sure Past new year though all's a blur Bloody Earth with many wars World full of empty feelings D.C. lies shady dealings Lest we forget peaceful days The season's magic feeling I've a wish am appealing Caught up in reality - Near forgot those hours of bliss - Take the time to reminisce
In her last breath, Her phantom slid in the air, Dissipating into nothingness Just as she was nothingness. Laying draped in our tears Hades cuddled her lifeless body And smiling, Clawed her by the skin Dragging her beyond our understanding. Nothing to claim for our own. Lunch arrived. Nibble. Crunch. Chew. Dead never tasted sweeter. Sucking the vitality from her, They push up beyond her decaying flesh. Brown. Raw. Destroyed. And into a fragrant spring.
The lovely fog roared through the rain forest. Smearing blind velvet eyes in the tropical season. Bliss crust showering the ungraceful carpet of decaying leaves. Animals scattered W I L D like cions in a purse. Evil prowling through the terrified animals. Domination felt through the large kings of the jungle. Middle class mammals meander about their senses heightened for murderous creatures that stalk on the dark forest floor.
As winter dances it's final dance white snow begins to melt The fire of spring begins to blaze Trees - long dormant Now have little buds on their branches From the cold earth plants begin to rise break through the frigid soil Squirrels scurry into city parks The population of the city grows hopeful Spring brings joy with it Mother Nature will have is say - here in the asphalt homeland
Oh, the deep valley of the heart Holding the secrets of the past The longing in the present The hope in the future uncharted. Layers of mud and rock slides Over seasons long past Have buried many tears and treasures Throughout the history of its life. But they have made the valley Even richer and more beautiful The river running across its spread Continues to feed it abundantly. As the sun glides over the valley The river sparkles in excitement Birds chirp and butterflies flutter For spring has arrived finally. The orange poppies happily wave In the gentle breeze sweeping tall grass Lilacs upon trees their scent so sweet White lilies bowing their heads in grace. The slopes dressed in evergreens Allowing some rest from the sun's rays Offering shadows changing in shape As the days move to their eve. No one knew or could notice All the turmoil underneath That had accumulated over years Through all seasons and their caprices. At last peaceful is the valley For you have come to me Tears of joy I cry for this gift So long awaited and I am free. By CarolineCécile Copyright © 2007
Brown and gold Waft and grow Your grandpa is old, With a cane, And football and snow.
Silently, as we await Spring's arrival We imagine butterflies and bumblebees aloft Frolicking around flowers and floating in breeze Enchanted forest animals charm and tease And birds alluring melodies in trees And we are carried away to a place of beauty every color is green and vibrant And sunbeams of gold illuminate trees Oh Skies of blue, and life anew Give us hope, our joy ensues What a joy a season entails When all cold and snow eventually disappear And we applaud gratefully each Spring's arrival
If I leave you again, it will be for the last time - you snarling day-fog, northwest winter. I would escape to Santana softness, no harshness, warm-spot summers. Monoliths rising in the Pacific signal the winds as they pass. The winds blow ashore, carrying the albatross to rest at last. Warming and wetting they come to Seattle, dropping a burden from the sky. Some say the weather mocks men to suicide. I am adrift on land, feeding on turnips and oysters. The driftwood is not tree but people - people of a different caliber than fiber. The wheat seas swarm with them. Water pours from Palouse Falls and drifts patiently to rejoin the salty sea. Calloused hands feed hungry mouths. They sow, they reap. The rolling hills of the Palouse, so violent in the making, would scold a thinner soil. When east meets west in Washington, the merging is a clashing, frightful. The lines are drawn as poles are set in solid soil. There are no prisoners taken and no mercy quarter given. Still bread is dipped in broth on both sides of the fences, along each line of trenches.
Winter is a vacuum in the mind when spring knocks with violence at the door. That death grip shows white knuckles and frosted ears. We are the children of fate, weathered in frame, punctuated by seasons. Hastily we go to warm the limbs and limbs fold to keep the kindled coal. Our sorrows are as ice, we chill. But winter dies as did the warm; the grip is not defeat but only a retreat. The accolades are everywhere when the cold grip of winter is released. The wind carries away the cold and stores it in some cavern in the north. Less than this we would be not seasoned.
Echo I hear its calling in the air A field of golden rod fluttering in the autumn breeze A worn straw-hat on a weathered deck chair An old man's garden and a harvest that appeased Oh hello to today filled with change goodbye to summer Your ruined green pastures have been pickled to a bronze Such a pretty demise for something so free Changing trails with sunken stones Who knows how many tomorrow are left to see Where tan colored faces will fade its tones A color of patchwork of orange peel and crimson foliage shower us with its surrender A memory of messy faces with ice-cream cones So for now we weep the joyous painted colors you muster A joy to the mind's eye A stream of cranberry red bushes a wonder luster And he smiles waiting with his basket of pride and his summer-like complexion His eyes filled with hope and dinner time anticipation A dying leave passes his face right in his walking direction No worries just a joy he has for his outdoor affections
Dawn paints the clouds with Hazy washes bright with Diamond dew. Winter sadness melting In the fledgling sunlight. Spring crocus reflecting Saffron, pearl and purple Jewels sparkling In the swirling silver Threads of misty morning. Snowdrops capped in valour Bravely rise through strands of Emerald moss Bluebells drape the woodland Floor with lapis splendour. Daffodils alight with Gold and citrine blazing. Nature's promise Cherry blossom floating On the quickening breeze. Hidden treasures waking To the warmth of springtime. Feel the heartbeat Rhythm pulsing with the Sense of life emerging.
I creep behind the sunny meadows Whirling my flaming gown I spin the lace of mist and dew Of frost and crystal ice I shake hands with the poppies They wilt at the sight of my glare I sentence death to the fields of green Spilling red and yellow on the trees I dip my finger in the snoozing lakes Freezing their lazy countenance I poke the bears into their dens And call out the snow owls I splatter the scent of cold and rain And shower sleet from the clouds I twirl my hair and hear the wolves Howl their starving cry I gaze at the span of winnowing wind Who is seeking me? Who has seen me? Nobody will stop me For I will continue to weave The blanket of frigid death
Autumn Calls Autumn calls... when suddenly the leaves fall. Autumn calls... when the colors are amber, orange and red, and the sound of a child's laughter dance in my head. Autumn calls... when the air feels so crisp and clean, and I feel so serene. Autumn calls... when you wrap your arms around me, and you keep me safe from harm. Autumn calls... I'm SO in love with you!! And that is the most beautiful call of all.
A Storm's Wrath thunder from dark, dark skies once were they brilliant blue swirling are the leaves that mighty wind has now thrown buckets of cold hard rain the starved earth does quench as gliding winged eagles do fly among the darkened clouds strong waves of storm's might pushing them soaring all about as lightning strikes objects resting tall upon sodden ground life marvels at Nature's massive stormy blasts and loud show hiding now are the creatures that earlier were out to play spiteful wind rips the trees that stand defiantly in it's way floods fill the deep burrows where so many wild critters hide with no fear of Nature's wrath and it's dark, stormy wet ride time stops Nature's wrath slowly gliding along it's endless path... Robert L. 05-13-2014
Nineteen eighty six, seventeen years of age this lost young child ? Standing amid the shadows afore an empty looking glass; in silhouettes Dawn these streams and light through a lonely window; silence, silver blade Razors edge piercing their flesh tears; blood trickling then pouring from the corners.. Hopeless wishing begging tortured eyes; a season in somber this beginning as, reasons.
It's October now; the air seems somewhat cooler than my thoughts, yet, I can feel the warmth in the breeze as it kisses the trees. They're turning slightly red as I did, and am now, in remembering when our lips first met. It won't be long now till they undress; all good things fall naked beneath covers of white. Soon they'll reach out in anticipation and feel the first few flakes of innocence covering them deep within layers of thought. They'll be less red then, and more at ease in their nakedness as they breathe deeper. The wind's changing pitch again, it's rising high in the hills, falling low through the valley below. I can feel it shifting with my thoughts as I pull back the layers of my own mind. It's no longer cool, this air, but rather warm as it mingles your scent with memory, this day. It's October, yet, I wonder, will I too fall naked and less red before autumn's passing? The wind is calm right now, it's pausing, but it's still October and the trees are still slightly red although I, I am more autumn-like than they, in my remembering.
Long-lived and rusted the flint lock pistol clutched in suspense...... death had come to call...... with a longing in her heart....... she stood guard fighting her transformation, silent fog rolled beneath a picturesque cliff...... waiting in silence her spirit cried for confirmation, a longing for a peaceful flight enthralled her desperate heart........ in the distance swirling clouds parted at once, a voice in harmonic rhythm sang out "freedom to fly free my dear raven" "freedom to fly free my dear raven"............ and in that instant her spirit rose in a peaceful calm...... destiny had been received, a glorious revelation revealed engulfed in love her spirit rejoice...... Hallelujah...... Hallelujah...... Palet......Palet......Palet............... Her spirit soar...... ________________________ Hebrew translation for "Palet" is "Deliverer" ________________________ A Rambling Poet Contest~Among The Dead Poet~Rick Parise
September The month of my grandmother's birth The birth of the cool breeze Flowing through the changing leaves Where the leaves wave Waving to the animals changing Changing their behavior to the weather Where weather turns bitter So bitterly cold, just up ahead The beginning of autumn Is now at hand, leading towards winter Secure your dwelling Both human and beast For September air is everywhere Russell Sivey Entrant into Brian Strand's September contest
I am brittle and abandoned. Like gilt leaves shed by the selfish tree. Discarded. As you wilfully discarded me. I am damp and distraught. Like wind whipping drizzle against cheeks. Cold As you were callous and cold to me I am sombre and grey. Like the sky's heavy battleship clouds. Threatening As you so grimly threatened me. I am winter white. Like first frost, static and beautiful. Deadly. As you were to me.
Stored upon old dusty shelves In the bosom of our home Waits the bounty of last season Summers yield from fertile earth During barren months sustain
Colors of beauty that I love to see From a distance you can look at me Surrounded by falling leaves at the roadside Full of happiness in my heart that I want to glide Trees everywhere changing its colors Mostly orange, red, and pink that I adore Each breath of air show us its autumn day Let celebrate outside by walking happily Feels the coolness of the clear water at the lake I sit on the bench and listen to the sound of leaves A place to stay, I feel like I'm living in a dream world Even fairies appreciate this breathtaking view to behold Trees form like a crown at the palace in the East Bridge look like red carpet as I walk in the forest Smiling to the great blessing that God gave us Autumn, a season of mist and mellow fruitfulness October 26, 2012 PD's Second Change Poem Contest 7th Place Winner
Winter is also celibate. The conscience is moving, A frozen light in a frozen eye. It's raining much looser, Down a ripped tree. I couldn't have, I couldn't have, in this sin-sick tenderness. ___ My face is cracked in my fawnlike fingers; And the nose betrays an inner child, who Wouldn't listen to sparrows about being catched. I just insisted fur was wings. ___ The feminine chill on the palm must be sorrow; When I think of church bells, or mother- That I am haunting as raw love.
Baby. You are so simple. September. You can fit in my tiny hands. Green and yellow decorate. White streaks. Tiny bugs. You are a child like myself, but one day you will grow and die. And I will forever be here, nothing but a child. You are humble, and quite. Tough. Thick skin on the infant. Many mistake you for ugly. I know you are joyful, my pumpkin. Pumpkin Patch. First grade. October. Cold. Crisp. Clear. Vivid. Orange, ocher yellow. Dirty dirt as far as the eye can see. Purple blue and grey stain the skies with awkward mountains. Plump, pure. This is a right of passage. An awakening of autumn. Dry brittle and broken the hay lays flat. Jackolantern. Black dark through the window. This is night. Laughing with knifes. One two three four. Yellow and red spots so small make this orange. Draw. This is easy. This is fun. I am young. Pale innards cover the kitchen. Cover our hands. This is family. Black triangles. Ridged teeth. Fic the bic and there's the light. It is late. The dead dog whines. Those trees sway. Dream of funny faces and sweet pie. Hot wax drips onto the porch.
When lightning strikes the Joshua tree The air is frightfully clear. The children quiet their Jacks and Jump ropes As the suburbia settles it's ears. An ivy beneath a sycamore tree Watching a fire with envy. It wonders, How on nature's rich, ripe earth Is there a power So quick to devour The beauty and grace of a Joshua tree. Why is it the branches crumble so When Ivy's destruction is subtle and slow. Why do fires spawn sputtered cries When an English Ivy lays easy on the eyes. A Mexican woman pours tears to the land. She cries for the homeless And weeps for the sand. She mutters one word that no one will hear She pleads that you feel it Without dwindling fear. When finally sleep comes The children then stir As they dream of a fire too bold to endure. The woman will weep As the fires grow. She cries for the Joshua trees, It's roots and it's leaves, With a few tears for you, And a couple for me.
Nip in the air speaks loudly Seek a warmer place in the sun Sun slowly speaks with a southern drawl Her lavender dress creeping behind Trailing a beautiful skirt on morn's horizon Max, Maximilian Sunflower almost outsparkles the early sun The sun that slowly glows orange through the Leland Cyrpress and woodsy trees Whitey waits huddled against the corner post cold needing Sun to hurry along so she can climb onto the roof enjoying the radiant heat Nip wants to send me away so that warmth will penetrate aching bones Desiring to visit with the weak crowing rooster's song for just a moment longer Those moments that are swiftly passing now as the sun's radiant golden light comes higher with sun loosing her gown of lavender Becoming naked before the earth for their joining of spirits to reciprocate love for each other Thanks to God for the day and for the life and beauty to enjoy once more!
Living rays of sunshine in fragrant blossom Hide their countenance from the silver face of The moon riding high outside her window From twilight 'til dawn, they in patience 'Bide the night, keeping silent vigil o'er The lone sleeper that lay before them She lay dreaming of fresh air in the spring of her youth Running through the bright summer gardens and Dancing with the memory of autumn Now, as the winter winds howl outside her window She dreams of warm kisses and A man with daffodils in his outstretched hand Christopher Thor Britt Motif: Nature/Romantic
Caught upon an evening Pass the arms on edge Of rocking chair trails reeling Sipping away into fairy tale Wild off, cool life teas Melting ice, and lemon veranda breeze By and by bloomers chase In and out, of innocent days To the last of Indian summer And brittle beneath awakes Crying boards that ever creak As all familiar remembers A voice bone deep, is missed Rattles toward the center And out pass the winds and placid lake September "Oh, dear Evelyn" our dreams Hung under wind chime tingles Trace love amid soft autumns twinkle No longer songbird melodies braid In early morning after children Now shadow, in the splashes of sunning place Timepiece is now the empty grass Once with, now without you As I end a road that leads nearer to your path And sooner wither folds Under snow, bird angels holding hands High into winterberry ash
Well here it is again; it's been long awaited Feared. Desired. Dreamt of. Ignored. Highly Anticipated. The summer is done and fall has begun Despite our beseeching tears That pitter, patter, Wet the ground And soak into our fears. But really, babe; just suck it up, 'Cause summer's end is here. Say "bye-bye" and "bon voyage" To memories held dear; Between now and Christmas, kid, Be glad for all the things you did, Because you won't get to do Those things no more. Your soul is sold out for the fall To school, to jobs And that's not all: You've got family and friends To check into. So take a bit to catch your breath And think of what your summer meant to you. Date: 9/9/13
I have a dream of..... Meandering paths and water lillies Topiary hedges and mazes of green Splashes of color across the lawn Succulent fruits all for the picking Bleeding hearts, buttercups Elephant ears, paperwhites Canna, easter, and daylillies Caladiums and flowering grasses Perfect meter, perfect rhyme Balanced into beautiful blossoms Ressurection of perrenials Springtime treasures and autumns follies
Do you feel the breath of autumn upon your neck? The smell of damp leaves in the predawn gloom A pallid sun rises without warmth Too far away, too far away So soon the time for rest is upon us Leaves flame red and orange on the branch in timely tribute The queen of summer has played her last song And in requiem we lament her passing
Once it was bright and warm but now wet and dull, the summer has transformed into autumn, a season fraught with chilly winds and changing colours; first glorious greens but then striking reds, oranges and yellows. Autumn is a season that symbolises change and the un-noticed challenges that we all face regardless of whatever form they take. Many scorn it for being a season that many seasonal illnesses suddenly arise, like strained springs suddenly being released creating a sound that ricochets all around, bouncing off every surface. But still autumn persists for it is locked in an eternal cycle created by Mother Nature herself. Autumn – a season to be cherished and welcomed for without autumn new life cannot form when spring arrives creating a new blossoming paradise of colours for the summer that follows where the sun will bestow its very light on very living soul.
O' the poetic quilt within my mind of words I choose in life divine could I ever bring a tear to you the dreamer with eyes that only stare could it be a simple beauty in each as rivers run with endless grace or simply put, as winds blow careless through fields of love to touch your face I'll find that moment that precious space of colors' that flow in soulful place to hold your heart to mend your soul to expose a new love where two shall grow...
The cornstalks vanished overnight Shaven fields once flowing, green and gold Now Dad's evening whisker stubble Ghost limbs of the cornfield Flocks of nomadic Ravens Feast on the invisible And scowl with those empty black eyes Impervious to man's judgment And I think, There is nothing as beautiful Than the first snow on a barren field Shadows playing with the evening light And dance among the vacant mounds
When passion gathers moss, The night hangs sad and silent, Then fades with disappointment; The will to stir a morning breeze Is lost in any season, and love Becomes a stone.
Gently sloping emerald hills, Old, gray fences brightened by daffodils, Majestic trees ready to burst into bloom, Strangers smiling and waving at me. That's my Kentucky. Gleaming horses peacefully grazing Behind white fences, Old, leaning barns speaking of tobbacco and history, Spring peepers voicing joy by the pond, Young groundhogs nibbling on new growth, That's my Kentucky. Forsythia blooming against an old log cabin, Surrounded by ancient maples in red spring splendor, And the weathered schoolhouse nearby, boardered by a split rail fence covered in ivy. That's my Kentucky. The quietly rolling Ohio river carries coal away from these hills in barges, While a bald eagle turns wide circles above, Soaring on air curents invisible to me. That's my Kentucky. Along the creek watercress and forget-me-nots are flourishing, A blue heron stands statue-still on the glittering water's egdge. The ancient mill is nestled between the wooded hills, where the sparkling creek works the creaky wheel. That's my Kentucky Softly swaying cedar trees line roads like tin soldiers, Decked in fresh, spring green coats, And underneath velvety violets and glorious bright dandelions celebrate their life with happy faces. That's my Kentucky.
The streetlight in the fog Emits a spotlight In this dark and cold and fresh northwest. I sit beside the warm glow. My body shivers. It's an icy beauty. In the mist of the streetlights my world goes by, And then around, spinning. Even in this silent freeze You can find reason to be on your knees.
Somewhere on the table, Kept the taste, Chocolate, cherry and hazelnut. The cup..., the wine. Looked at; fate. Vanished, the bouquet; the wind. Thought flees away. Diving in textures, and tongues. Sweet breath of the Gods. Soft touch of the lips. Liquids and dreams.
Sitting outside under shade tree, on a cozy summer afternoon, while Brandy my sweet dog lies next to me cooling off in the dirt. Our summers spent together has been an enjoyment that has brought many memories. I can see that she is thinking about better days, when our dog Murphy would be next to her, this is our second summer without him, but the two of us are getting along, because we still have each other to lean on, so we will just enjoy this cozy summer afternoon as long as we can. Written 7-27-11
The flowers bloom under the summer skies of may butterflies dance twirling around Date: November 3, 2012 Gogyoka Contest – Joann Grisetti
A floral blanket of silence Lies out across the desert Nothing moves-not air Nor trees Nor blades of grass The ogre's breath is held Suspended, then expelled Stomping his feet, Flashing his eyes, Grumbling, the ogre Blows And, grumbling, cries Fat sheeted tears – Trees quickly bow Shaken green heads as The silent blanket erupts In oceanic waves Of startled grasshopper minions
FAREWELL TO SUMMER'S MIST ~``````~~~````~``~`~ Gone are the wavelets under the hedges Laundering urgent whispers of summer's end Down on the shores the ripples grow cold Buoyant as fresh winds throttling on the beach Wayfarer's paths curdle through rafters Peaches lay scattered fluid in the bushes Mauve and teal tulips, oak trees and ferns Sprinkling shells' husks like ebb's broken glass Cruising the zip line with a stream below Swords of leaves sail with the tide Wet rocks moistened with dew rent a place Summer's lungs exhale drops of farewell Though twilight comes with a curtain foil Rivers seem to drip as the fading sun bleeds A late hummingbird swims from a branch While mute rain falls misty, quiet as tears. © all rights reserved 2011
We come .. we go Let us gather & go together Nearby a calm smooth river You, he, she, they, and me Each one of us carry a candle Fixed in a body of a wooden small board People with a common purpose With nature, when the night gets dark To light our candles and set them On the river to have free moves What shall we see? Moving sparkling stars. Go up & down. Some on some off. Happy new year.
Autumn had fallen, in her glory Shades of garnet, topaz and amber We too, had fallen in love together True that feelings can change Just like the seasons do But our hearts are immutable Despite this love being forbidden While autumn holds us in her arms Jewelled colours and thunderstorms Shared across a distance so far But we love under the same stars They say nothing lasts forever We know that our love is everlasting And like the return of every season You are forever the one ~ Karin Bole Tupper The Eclectic Poet 27 May 2012
At three in the morning, I lie awake staring out my window. Hundreds of fireflies illuminate the sapphire darkness of night. Tiny blinking beacons, they guide my thoughts outward, away from the turbulence of sleeplessness. I marvel at God's ingenuity and picture Edison (inspired by nature) perfecting the first practical light bulb. Having not the inner workings of genius, I drift off to sleep.
Fleeting things are like leaves in autumn Spiraling in the uncertain breeze Then to be gathered and burnt © Brenda V Northeast Jan. 5th 2012
Falling in love, then parting away I've been repeating such relationships Examining my memories thoroughly I would seek sweet shadows I can taste the sweetness of the past Although you are no longer with me I'll be alright If I shut my eyes I believe I believe I will see unchanging love When you've gathered the light of spring make the flowers bloom Gaze at me in the summer, where the moon floats atop the sea Warm the autumn winds As well as the winter snows with your style Four seasons with your love Once again Promises based on desire alone Will fade with tone Can you feel me underneath your skin? Considering that we love each other so, As long as we believe that, yes…. No matter how far away you may be Come for me on a night when the spring flowers slumber Leave a message on the summer beach Warm the autumn rain & winter tears With your unembellished love Four seasons with your love Within my dreams Let us hold the flow of time in our hearts just the way it is The days the two of us spent together will soon be a memory Even love & dreams will be forgotten, left behind Warm them, no matter what day it is Four season's with your love Four scene, four four seasons Deep within my heart Four scenes, I'll be alright Four scenes, four four seasons Four scene, stay with me... Inspired by my friend "Sami .K."...
There is something strangely satisfying About sweeping leaves in the wind. It's like a therapy for the soul. As the impish zephyrs play With a rustle of laughter Tumbling through; Sometimes for, Some against, the action of my toil. With the rhythmic swish of my broom The breeze blows and the branches bow, Scattering Nature's confetti. A tree lives a lifetime every year. From the youth of Spring through Summer's prime, To the regal twilight of Autumn, Reminding us that there is such beauty in old age. As a child I saw In my mind's eye, The word AUTUMN written in the russets and ochres of the falling leaves. Colours so bright, but with an earthiness that grounded, Enveloping in the warmth of Nature. Akin to wood smoke and open hearths, Unlike the flashy pomp of Summer's gaudiness. Autumn awakens sleeping memories, Turning my thoughts to the magic of childhood And how I used to play at being grown up As, in youthful innocence, I attempted the futile task Of sweeping leaves in the wind.
I put you in a sacred cup. Like a child, I whine, And cry, For you. Not old enough to drink: To see into the eyes of a woman, Grown, with pain. What she tells me I cannot understand. But I can understand well enough. I am as young in pain as the child They will not take to drink; A pain as fresh, as the dead leaves each year, After a glorious summer seen from the inside out. Yes, from inside. Because, I am the summer, The sea; The autumn, and its goblin's veil; I am winter's cozy nook; And springtime's drip Of Saviour's blood. I am the child that lies within— That even memories can't save From the crooked spine Of your blindness' path. And you won't come to play with me.
OCTOBER The gull senses it Just his usual cry, yet something portends Something come alive A relaxed, quiet intensity Strange, like a trembling, single leaf, or A dozen late, pink roses – one white rose Laying out, watching the sky The grass – damp chill against the bones October's sensation? Well, not love exactly. Thrill describes it Distant roar of the stadium crowd Footballs in the air Spiraling, - spiraling to nowhere The roar – now it becomes you You become it The visible, the invisible action of it all
Palm trees fingers stretch in the sweltering breeze, bending over graciously, It shelters Mr. Bluejays retreat, Above, clouding blue skies prepare to shower, No movement in this afternoon sauna, Life must wait for South Carolina sun to settle.
Contractual agreements with publisher caused DELETION JS Lambert
Winter emerges from her slumber, dazed and a bit bemused feeling just a tad encumbered, as Autumn leaves with a clap of thunder, Winter realizes it's her moment, Her time to reign over heaven and earth, a silhouette of wondrous radiance, she stands so pure and sparkling, I can see and feel her presence, but the world shivers from her essence, the icy cold breath that envelopes them is a white frosty blanket of snow, even though they know she's coming they still grumble and complain, they bluster, bristle and never prepare for the beauty we encounter, as Winter gives her icy stare.
I can here the sound everywhere I go The lovely sound of the jingle bells Reminding us all that the season is here The season to love and be loved To show kindness to your fellow being Where ever I go, I see nothing but happy faces The faces of people intoxicated by the joy of Christmas Where ever I look, I see the light blinking Like shooting stars shining bright and colourful Jingle bells, jingle bells Christmas is here, so let it jingle all the way.
Amazed to see how the spring breeze rejuvenates everything.... Life flourishes out of dead... Fills me with enthusiasm and gives me too a new lease of life..... Out of the yellow the green appears... Out of the desolation the flowers bloom.... With the melting snow life seeps into the ground... Spring is in the air!!! Spring is here!!! Hope against hope I hope that spring comes to dead hearts too... Out of the hatred love appears Out of the desperation Hope prevails From the melting hearts our soul flourishes So that we can say Spring is in our hearts Spring is in the air!!! Spring is here!!!
in the tall summer grass sun burnt earth smell sisters run about but I am hidden and still they cannot see me. softly I pat the dog her head on the ground in the game she knows to be still be her tail tip twitches she's ready to spring with a whisper.
They are cast in the shadows of thick, grey clouds beneath sheets of drizzling rain-sounds. Tiny fingers are tapping on reverberant walls when at once, he puts a record on of lonely pianos playing. Brewing dark liquids, they contemplate... Yet coffee is not the only brew. There is also a melting pot of atmosphere and sound, sparking great and heavy ideas, causing him to ponder life and death and all that does and does not matter. A steam rises from the rim of his cup, where heat kissed the harvest air, as a minor chord then rises in time with this click of a droplet's rhythm. He blinks, finding then that he is alone, and lost in that flow of song and spirit and sound.
I thank your dearly god for all the days You've shown us beauty in so many ways The crimson sun against the smoky sky The speckles of villages from mountains high When everything is covered with a film of dust Painting your trees 'n shrubs with a film of rust September's trees in warm attire all flush As they cover their bareness in quite a rush The fires that creep over the hills at night A pretty red rope is all that's in sight So much awe in the wake of destruction As all your creatures struggle to function Under October's sun bearing down Upon the ground completely brown The rivers trickle to an absolute nil As all the land becomes deathly still Upon the flats as the heat's haze lingers there Survival a must we can hardly bear But the trees remind us it again soon will rain As in faith their green leaves refutably remain As the darkened clouds upon the horizon meet The hope in the air drifting past is sickly sweet The parched earth eagerly waits to greet The large drops of manna falling at its feet And we all breath a large sigh of relief As with the waters gift, gone is the grief Thank you god for all we go through When we can't really see what's true Time in its circle such a complex thing We know healing u always will bring So much beauty does abound That faith can always be found.
MYSTIC SPRING A Methusalean warp, In-and-out of body time, When renewal seems to split. Soul conceives a mystic pair, One, atop, with fresh tulips One neath a burial wreath This dichotomy cries out, One from cackling, mortal fear Unknown dimension other But allow those sunbirds sing Gather new thy hoary self And accept this mystic spring
It is time Too long in bed I stretch Cast off the bonds of Hypnos Cold white sheets retreat I am free My head lifts Sun caresses my face I rise, standing tall Naked for all to see Beauty reborn It is spring
The spiders know before we do, Cozy Expanding black clouds On the edge of a meal In the corner of my bedroom The last of the flies circulate Wall, wall, window, wall It is just a matter of time Meanwhile the girls and I Find benches in the last scrap of brassy sunlight Furiously rub the upright hairs from our arms And fight the gails Blowing our skirts like sails.
Silent whispers on broken vows, I cling to my dream of you. You are the forest's end, the wolf's grin. Climbing to the edge of bliss and sin, There's noting to obscure the view. Looking to the sky laced with clouds, my eyes pierce the haze. You danced into my world as a child. Untamed, beckoning me to the wild. You unleashed my wings, bloodying my back, spirit crazed. Little wolf, silver blade by my side. We ran through the wood, Constantly seeking to bloody our prey. I am full on the carrion and broken pride. Now you are gone, and all I have is your ghost. A child, a maiden, a lover, a memory. Frost grips at the beautiful ivory, To the life I lead, to the path you craved most.
The whistling winds whip her words away, the simile of a smile on her lips fades and is lost in the deepening dusk. there on the moist, soft sand her footprints melt with the slow, oncoming tide at his feet, he's got nothing to say to make her stay.
A new season begun, a new life, a new birth, engraving our story here upon earth. The pages turn slowly. Each day will pass. Life is measured by the hourglass. The sands of time pass graciously. The book is written of mystery. Echoes of silence, the pages are blank. For the hourglass of life holds no rank. Let today be today. Look not to tomorrow. For life will fade on the pages of sorrow. Read the story, you must go on. Turn the pages of a new dawn. To every beginning there is an end. Your spirit will soar high in the wind. Hurry before time runs out. For life surely fades without a doubt. The clock counts down each grain of sand. Turn the page and understand. Reflections of love and holding hands. This page though so innocent, a beautiful child of heaven scent, happiness in a life well spent. Turn the page again once more, to find the key to all closed doors. This page tells of mom and me, the many cherished memories, undying love for family. Turn the page, see all my friends, from around the world and all nations. This page tells of sacred marriage, to have, to hold, and also cherish. This page tells of many great storms, the sea of tears, and the thunder roars. This page holds the photographs, of many dreams that once was had. Though some memories of life you can't recall. The book of seasons, winter, spring, summer, and fall. The last page to turn, so there's a stall. The last grain of sand that slowly falls. Now for a moment don't you cry, the hourglass of life told us no lie. For all is born and then must die. God grant me the time to say goodbye.
At my smoke's edge the winter dies Without any applause from the beautiful ladies From the audience The wire did not stand the season. Let's move to the sunset together Holding our breath for the coming times As our prayers are reaching the absolute of immensity, Mixing like melodies that are trying to stick out among the others. My sweet December Frozen flower of an era unknown! I will dance your death song Naked and rescued perhaps I will carve your circle to the centuries coming. Let's move to the sunset together Like two children of freedom And even if no more days are coming for us We will always remember their light. In front of my window's glass the winter is leaving its last breath And I draw circles of snow Upon its hot breath. Don't be afraid my sweet prince Destiny's hands are empty and you will face the unexpected, Along with the light that you've missed. Don't be afraid, Let me Come with you until the end of the cliff To watch the stars rebel. Come on, let's run to the sunset together.
The air is thick and sweet with the promise of spring rain, and a slight breeze nips at a lock of my hair, coaxing it out of its neat bun. The cool prickle of raindrops on my skin is familiar, and I watch as the droplets on my arm get caught in a maze of hair follicles before slipping off toward the ground beneath me.
Whoa! Daddy's knocking Santa Claus! I saw Daddy knocking Santa Claus (knocking, knocking Santa Claus) Just beside the christmas tree last night He shouldn't came and crept Daddy knew Mom and him had kissed Mom's worry for what she did She prayed Santa not to beep Then, I saw Daddy carry Santa Claus (carry, carry Santa Claus) And get him to his sleigh reindeer ride Oh, what a trouble that it had been Thank Mommy she hadn't seen Daddy knocking Santa Claus last night (She saw Daddy knockin, knockin, knockin, Santa Claus) I did, I really did see Daddy knocking Santa Claus. I'm not gonna tell my Mommy Then I saw Daddy kissing Mommy now (kissing, kissing, kissing Mommy now) Underneath the mistletoe, just right Oh, a what a laugh that it has been When they caught me as I stare Daddy kissing Mommy hugs her tight Oh, a what a laugh that it has been When they caught me as I stare Daddy kissing Mommy hugs her tight From the original song "I Saw Mommy Kissing Santa Claus"
Summer is leaving, waving her hand. Along with a sweet smile of the clouds that passed by. My heart is singing in a tune, of Sweet summer goodbye. Hold my hand, we will walk over the fields of meadow, On where the green leaves of May are fallen one by one. To fill the air with their glorious color. Looking at the sky once again and inhale the summer breeze for one last time, hold my hand squeeze it tighter let us dance under the sun, draw out your arms, breathe the sunlight, shining on a flowing water. Her golden rays will soon be faded. Sweet summer goodbye, a beautiful rhyme I feel here in my heart. Like a touch of a rose, A kiss of summer goodbye, In one day afternoon and It will end so soon. One more time, one more moment To face another day with you, Sweet summer goodbye, A melodious song, that I 'am singing Like a voice of angels, I can hear deep in my soul ------------------------- Cheryl Aldea frank herrera 'A SUMMER MEMORY' - cONTEST
The showers of springs Give the imagination Soft and light wings And take the heart Beyond the horizon rings The colours there Show there A lovely glare Brighter and fairer Than the rainbow During the showers slow The eyes seek for The inspiration Through the window Of open inspiration To prepare A matchless culmination With past sensation Which are like the swings Moving high up in the World unknown The to and fro motion Awakes a commotion Into the world of words And a heart touching verse Comes out To have a bout With the unfair doubt Pacify the feelings With an eternal calm
This night is different, a night of adventure This night is quiet, the sky falls in bits Like stars, but chilly,white and fluffy. Homes lit up as the hearth lights with enthusiasm The chimney roars with excitment,this night Awaiting that special guest of the night Children stare with anxiety through the frosty glass Waiting to hear the roof sing, of his arrival Yet again the night draws near,sleep calls. As if nature apprehends his wishes Spirits grow dull and the eyes heavy We have drank of a spell deeper than hogwarts Morn comes with new stories yet untold. We missed him again, like always But not the gifts he brings along Such joy and merry they make,in the heart As they sing those words,''It's christmas'' Making jolly under the tree.
Spring, with its blooms and green Left me with yellowing leaves. Once lush with green gaiety, Alas! Now sheds my golden tears. Left me a promise when it went That it'll come back Days passed,I grew old and weary With no leaves to ornament I lost charm. Hours seemed days,days were years, But firm in belief I stood all time's tests. And then one day,it came Embraced me and I blossomed! Nature answers all longings, No waiting goes in vain With faith it be nourished. And lo! A spring follows every winter!
Summer Beach Sifting warm sand through my fingers lustrous fine grains glitter my palm. Soothed by the soft powdery touch, I sit for a while under the rocks, my bare feet swirl patterns in the sand as I watch a beach life unfold. Bustling mothers set up home on plaid blankets colourful beach bags spilling with towels buckets, spades strewn all around, a picnic stored under an umbrella, children gathered skip giddy with glee, scent of sunscreen on lily white limbs. My gaze drifts to little pink sisters, chubby faces bubbling with desire. Nimble bodies straggle the sand, wrapped in a world of castles and dreams. They stud mounds with pearly shells whispering stories of princes and princesses. At the water's edge long legs prancing tiptoeing warmth into an icy sea. Lads splash and play, high jumping the waves. Ball punched into the air, hands outstretched grappling madly, they plunge in an explosion of salty laughter. Strolling the tide line, bare feet on wet sand, I bask for a moment beneath a honey sun, life sparkling on a diamond afternoon. MMC © 2011
I floated into the windless sky of the tranquil night visited by minuscule stars that were subdued by dim moonbeams calling for some gleeful dreaming; and I wistfully dreamed of a lovelier and calmer planet remembering two kind and sincere eyes much lovelier than bluebells swaying in clay pots. I kept thinking of other universes never discovered by me and they surely existed beyond ours which couldn't thrill me anymore with its mysteries; dazzlingly beautiful they were as they expanded further into interstellar infinity... showing a grandiose light surpassing the one seen by the shepherds. Many hours went by, and soon what I had envisioned started to vanish before dawn, and floating back to earth I beheld that awesome vision of the Heavens. I landed in corn fields tangled by tarn that made me cringe, tasting unripe corn; and cherishing what I saw, I recalled that sojourn which lasted for long hours! I told everyone what I had seen in that dream so realistic, but they jeered at me, believing I was hallucinating; I even had to endure some tongue-lashing from mother as she noticed my pants togged in my boots: " You look like a soldier!" she screamed. . I'm hoping to return to that lovelier and calmer planet, where everything is peaceful.
Do you ever get the feeling You're really not alive Merely privy to oblivion Conscious of nothing's why I can swallow this world of blue Taste springtime on my tongue But darkness will seer my eyes Bitter tears of a callous sun I sleep only to wake again Platitudes passed to pedestrian friends Holidays are no different than today Another 24 hours of oblivion Did yesterday really exist Matted winter of autumn's naked bliss Tragedy and triumph are but a year Memories buried and seasons revered Tomorrow will come and go Nighttime cracked by tepid lights Summer lusts to speak again Welcome to oblivion
~*~ ===================== LAZULINE sheen glittered, ~~flummoxed~~ SAPPHIRE ASTER thrived, forget-me-not blooms, morning glory smiles in aureate sunrise, as seasons swap in jitters, ~~"LOVE's new moment"~~ SEPTEMBER'S zephyr gust in solemn hymn flowers celebrate in gaiety ... evoking such a METAMORPHOSIS to be reckoned with ... "why month's glyph always in BLUE?" ~*~ ========================================= "BRIAN STRAND CONTEST" entry
Web wise The fear drops from its light brown wings; this is not home; at least not for a bird. Little sparrow flaps its wings in madness; flaps them so hard. Living room, staircase, it is humming past your mute chair. But how can you help, you cannot locate your own way out of this golden web. =© 2009 - All Rights Reserved Kushal Poddar
The clouds belch and sky flashes its touch, Then the clouds spread their dark blankets over us ;as the sky shed cold tears, These drops of tears wash off the dirt on leaves of plants, dusts on aluminium and zinc roofing sheets; and the wind moves speedily pulling the roofs, doors and electric poles, whistling along as the sheets drum; and dusts swirl round… dancing to the rhythm. A baby is born, Farmers rejoice for the conception of this new born child; their expectation turns to reality; New life sprouts out of the ground As the ground drinks out of these tear drops; Paper,leaves and plastic materials compete With the tadpoles in the rivers and canals. The breeze touches my skin with cozy soothing hands, which is very reassuring that a better child is here. *Personification Date: 7-14-2014
Wild and unkempt, the field croons to me, a siren's call beseeching to play tag with the wind, sprinting across the uneven surface and splay full-length, face-down upon her mossy breast. I gluttonously drink gulps of her scent, fecund and rich and savory enough to satisfy my appetite. Then she whispers softly, mere breath-brushes against my neck, as the pull of an unheard heart-thump draws me down to nestle deeper in her caress. The curly blades of grass trill arias as they sing across my skin, and tiny red ants march to their drumbeat of life in rank order rows tangent to my face, while a solitary spider dangles from a single silken strand. . I lie hidden from the world by my sentient shield immersed in the rhythm and innate magic of my overgrown meadow.
The butterflies fly into the sky dancing in the sunlight as they breathe the warm summer and inhale the warmth spring of the day. Spread their wings slowly moving, twirling around, That dance along the wind that adds beauty to the flowers that bloom. As they dance over my head and perch on my shoulder, they kiss my hand. Come with me dance with the butterflies as we follow their dance step one, two and three. We will fly, ride on their wings clothed in fragile, like a rainbow that colors around. Written By; Cheryl Aldea Date: April 5, 2012 A Butterfly's Trail Of Kisses Contest – Gail Doyle
Sometimes I feel small in this world, in this vast universe But then sometimes when I'm sitting on that bench in the park with know one around watching the leaves dance in the breeze, the air hitting my face . . I feel big on an imaginable scale, it reminds me of all those minuet atoms all put together to make me Enabling me to watch those leaves dance in the breeze! Enabling me to walk in that park! Sit on that bench! It's easy to forget how special we are and how everything in this world is special if you look close enough. The one thing size has taught me is to think and when we think and i mean actually THINK . . amazing things can be achieved.
In October color is from stripping away the mild disguise of Summer, like the poison fruit, the vomitous insect, red devil. Death from heat.
Rowan berries cluster orange ripening an August morning. Tart apples crisp knotted branches, fallen, scarred fruit soften wasp warm soil. Blackcurrants burst sweet bowing from boisterous bushes. Spent raspberry canes rust birthing fleshy new shoots, prickly with prospect. The rambling red rose laughs leaping the garden wall, thorny veins throb puce under an energetic sun. A cloudy sea races beneath the stirring breeze as trembling trees shudder the call to Autumn. Dark shadows bounce peppering my lawn I stretch, brushing off the creeping dread of dark days to come MMC © 2011
Season shift leaves drift and tumble August brown changes September golden hue Morning air crisp announcing Autumn's arrival Summer escapes moving south for the winter
Stars shine brightly above me as I look up at the glowing full moon. A cool breeze is blowing and A soft music seems to play in the air around me as I think of what life has given me. This gift is more than I could have brought myself to ask for. For the longest time I've been content to be there for others Ignoring the fact that as I helped my friends find happiness, I have been alone. Now I find that Life has given me a gift. A thing so precious that never again could I go through life without it. Life has given me you. You, Suki, have become my life force. The very thing that keeps me going. I love you with everything I have. Granted, it isn't much, but I promise you that it wont be missed. I'll love you enough to make up for the materialistic things that I don't have. The moon blurs as tears fill my eyes and I start glowing as bright as the shining full moon above me and I find that the music I hear around me that is so heartbreaking-ly beautiful isn't in the air. It's inside me. I never have to be alone again. Never do I have to bottle things up for the sake of other people because I know I have someone who wants nothing more than to have me cry on his shoulder. I love him And to the very core of my being I know he loves me. Life has given me something I never dared to let myself dream of having. Life has given me Suki.
If I could talk to God today Humble praise and thanks I would give For all the blessings I have received None of which do I deserve For any good I may have done Was by grace through His son If I could talk to God today, I would ask Lord, when I was a little child Why was I so painfully shy? Whenever strangers were around I would always run and hide Reading and daydreaming all the while If I could talk to God today, I would ask Lord why does evil continue to exist? I was only seven, abused and blindly robbed I was lucky, my life not brutally snuffed! To perverts this is just a game So many die while others bear lingering shame If I could talk to God today, I would ask Forgiveness for the foolish years Opportunities missed to do some good For the many times I put Him last For unnecessary fears and wasted tears The empty years spent 'living it up' If I could talk to God today, I would ask For mercy not just for me For children like me whose trust betrayed For all of us who have lost the way Some day I know there will be peace on earth When you come to live in hearts and homes Note: For Walayee Whitlock' s "My Darkest Childhood Memories" Contest
Can you hear me my sweet precious, for the dream I also see.. ~ ~ Alice bow in rose petal grandeur to leave her stage once again a sincere pulsing adieu curtains close to face life once again She tumble down brightly lit passage gathering sticks and stones of muse to build a great fortress awaiting so soon life's stage shall prove If in that moment pulsing if only a slight shadow reveal emotes a great revelation then for her a dream did prove Carrying out through her kingdom as time refuse to cease a wondrous mind creation of youth she'll always see ~ ~ Can you hear me my sweet precious, for the dream I also see.. Alice my love, hold forever your days of youth, dream always, your Sister _______________________________ A Debbie Guzzi Contest
She is like the stars...placed in my eyes, shining bright... A blanket of seduction wrapped around my beingn huging me tight... She is like the rain, quenching my thirst with every kiss... Calling for her restlessly in my dreams, caught-up in her bliss... She is like my wings, soaring great heights through the sky... Spanning my chamber with her love, in unison we fly... She is like my Third-Vision, a majestic eagle seeing afar... Beyond the lands of our forefathers...taking me to where sages are... She's my innocence exposed, my thoughts that speaks loud & all I hoLd at heart dear... Trembling with every depth of feeling, with every whisper that I hear... She is like my breath, my every beat in rhythmic time... I feel her, like centripetal-force, pulling me in as we entwine... She is as I...in Love...
Global warming,sweating the floor, A cooling process,all over,Christmas snow, A massive ice pack massaging the body of Earth, All masses in coat,walking over snow,Christmas worth, Pure white,gift parcel from Eskimos for the season, To all greens,bushes and botanics to wear is the reason, Layers of layers of dust and waste of pets in growth, Snow,Christmas cleansing them all with a white cloth, All from the bottom to top on the planet Earth, Also bodies,minds and hearts cleansed in snow bath, At a sight up from the Earth,clouds seen like snow, At a sight down from the Sky,snow seen like clouds flow, Once in an year visiting like birds,Christmas snow, Two zero one four times visiting this,Christmas snow, A gift from Eskimos,Christmas snow for the seasons, "All having to serve have nots",giving Eskimos reasons!
we rape summer, then wonder why she bleeds into winter (skipping fall) we were hungover through her serial morning glories, ignored the sun as if it were a filthy yellow ball in a childless gutter, we walked by her stream of flowers (ripples of indian paintbrush and violets), tangled toilet paper cities in the currents.. trapped ourselves in sunscreen, stripmalls, bad poetry we raped summer, left it crying at the church diamond and lace put to a spinster blaze a pair of blue blanks staring at the ripeness of our selfishness now we face the fangs of winter broken flowers and dead streams all the while thinking about the time we raped summer
Do you think I'll ever be able to smile again (I just don't know) I'm losing it all within (To where do I go) When I'm out of my skin I was breathing this morning Red bricks, green leaves I showered and mourned All my dreams away I'm happily fading Don't you wish you were here This morning I rose My toes next to yours I'm peacefully falling In and out of doubt Cassettes and feathered weights I grabbled and crawled Within your daunting walls I'm my corner I'm daunting Yes dear, I'm subtly yours Closed my curtains this evening And you kissed my doors I was breathing this morning Red bricks, green leaves I happily fading Don't you wish you were here I'm peacefully falling I'm losing it all Do you think I'll ever be able to smile again (I just don't know) I'm losing it all within (To where do I go) When I'm out of my skin
Easter Easter is ever so beautiful. It was meant to be just so. For as our Lord Jesus rose to glory… The plants do follow in his fold. Springs beauty is likened to heaven… As it was promised in stories of old. And all the tender plants … Show our souls how to unfold. Growing toward the light, an ever present goal… Reminds us in life, what we should be searching for. Spring is like heaven brought down upon this earth To remind us of God's promise in Jesus… Waiting in our hearts and souls For the Son's light and warmth to bring it forth. Contest Easter Inspirations: CSEastman
Warm humid air Crickets chirping and cicadas humming. Birds singing and wind gently blowing. Sweet scent of flowers mixed in with home, the smell of hickory smoke. Got the horses neighing, and lambs baying, the cats a-meowing and the dog might be howling. the rockers creakin' and the door is squeakin', as the ford rumbles on down our old dirt road. Gotta glisten on the grass, from the rain that has passed, the sun shining warm and bright, a vision in my mind of an ole' summer day, cant wait to dream of summer nights.
~ Where should I start this poetic trace? ~ Supple summer, season scene Takes off coats and welcome warmth And tranquil under soften sky. Spring 'O' Spring precedence over summer... Summer host long light evenings, Carol patterns and seldom pit-a-pat. Fertile season, holder of juicy jubilee Easter burners' night, palm Sunday pedestrian... And good Friday chorus. March-to-October, love you so much. ~ Hope I am not missing out? ~ Lol. Dedicated to the lover of the above poetic summer season.
I will write you a poem a poem of endless inspiration, of beauty, and the warmth of a perfect love..... thy loving sun has reigned down with gracious hope the wild wind has pulled clouds from afar precious rain has begun to fall once again the new season has brought a flower of my ladies dream a solitary white Daisy has pushed to the surface a beauty in it's candid display a simplistic grand design a classical song of a brilliant architect I ponder the dreams it has inspired..... a gift of Gods splendor a gift for you love.............
Another Sunny Day, has come and gone. Snowy days are much more peaceful. Winter is a beauty nature has created, for our eyes to look at the twinkling light in the snow. Winter is romantic, the snowflakes fall and fall until they reach each other on the white ground. And they stay together, until their love melts away.
The toppling hyacinth, Excitedly bursting at every corner To show the world its colour. The soft chrysanthemum, A rosy brush of autumn's breath, So stoic in their blush. The pale gardenia, A soft unfolding in cautious masses, The tokens of a lover. The quiet lilac, Without a care for frill or grace, Growing where it may. The meadow shifts. There is such blissful sorrow In watching flowers bloom
Winter's promise foreclosing on the fall, dust of ashes blowing burning colors, bits of autumn leaves that fell to the wind and more, Remember ...... in the winter crisp joys, the frosty kiss of dawn, tears of dew, so cold upon the roses, announcing changes, emanating from the very bones, the marrow, of the deeper darker world outside our cottage door.
it's summer's farewell; i am falling down like all that around me like the last leaf in autumn's wind twirling down my thoughts spin un-grounded out of control i see the trees bare of color little branches snap, like a mind lost in the seasons over time at times i feel more bare less colorful and more fragile then they could ever be they stand together firmly on solid ground awaiting winter's cold hands yet i stand alone frozen from time and memories that taunt my mind awaiting warmth again
Red leaves fleeing trouble before the gust: like children playing tag. Tumbling to shelter under, or it is to the brick wall. Tears from heaven hit cheeks from the side, and lash down to toe: and the whole becomes a sea. I am swept away in it's fury: each wave crest seeks shores, and pours itself away; to abandon. Cherishing that kiss with earth. Fury must find it's rock; be diminished in ecstasy, and sink into nothing. Before turning into life.
Billows of pillows of clouds high up in the sky. Stretching across the massive paisley blue canvas. Hovering above the ground below all laden with dust. All parched yearning for moisture from above. Tendril's of moist drops suddenly descend below upon the land washing, the dust away leaving the ground refreshed. So is the land cared for, another day by the mighty hand of God.
Star dust; red powder on your lips in the creases lit against the moon... Shadows luminescent; rose water breath and a needle to sew the Milky Way closed... You step to edges of mountains and check the pulse of black expanses with star dust, rose water, ink eyes and padded fingers... Red powder on your lips and the wailing songs of eternity running through your veins.
NOT do I remember the lyrical poems and Renoir paintings that sang of the beauty of March. Cold wet and muddy to the cadence of a funeral dirge I march along the road to April. Passing a slimy pond Pisces the fish greets me with a flick of his tail, the murky water dripping from my soggy coat. The sound of crashing horns! My head jerks around to see Aries the ram butting heads with a rival. Is March the bleakest month of the year? But how can this be when March is the month when Johann Sebastian Bach was born and the whole world is green on Saint Patty's Day. Now, NOW I feel a gentle breeze with floating fragrance of lilac shrub, for just around the corner is SPRING.
It's summertime and Janis wails through the speakers. I sit at my picnic table, papers scattered, and I chase perfect words like I used to chase butterflies. My kids splash through the scene, armed with Super Soakers. Their antics threaten to jar the few words I managed to land on the page. They jump in the pool - giggles come up for air in a million bubbles. I trade my pen for a popsicle, join them poolside, and succumb to easy living and the sweltering rhythms of "SUMMERTIME."
your face is pressed against the window pane leaving ripples of your breath- souveniers karen croft twenty twenty
Regardless how your events are dealt and spent Articles controlled by those you may need to repent "LIFE GOES ON IT DOESN'T STOP"- regardless how much you resent. Each passing second, minute "LIFE" continues to on it's way. Constantly marches ahead, it "GOES" forward never looking back. Each second, minute all press "ON" becoming days and years- Dictated not by you, or me- "IT" doesn't skip a single beat or step. Yet, as an armed guard it "DOESN'T" wink or even glance Giving false illusions it will "STOP" creating your timeless moment. Valerie Sherman Middle Of The Road
Autumn leaves flutter and fall twirling in a danse macabre their scattered colors brilliant, lay in mock repose and dry decay lawn's mosaic, lowly cloak they wait their turn to go up in smoke
Euphoric light bounces from the countless gems that nature produces after pillars bleed withered rubies carried away by wind to destinations unknown. Here and there bursts a spark of colourful joy in the midst of a sea so alive. All shades of cold stone and dark give generously to creatures tracking on earth's crust. Spring brings with it the glow of melancholic shimmer across lush valleys and mountains high. In desire after the sun's warmth these still sustainers of life create a glimmer of beauty's hope, shedding bark to time, carrying the mysteries of old, enduring the trials of season, slowly reaching to touch Heaven's face. Moving to the waves of wind, aging to birds' melody, falling to the rhythm of our needs, nature whispers into humanity's ears. Oblivion serves to blind our eyes to an ecstatic dance of the emerald furnace.
Listening to winters third movement there was a prelude, but not a proposition. I, like a fiddlehead in spring waited as a moonlight sonata of snowflakes glistened in a blizzard; firelight tangoed with shadows, like a fantasy of glimmering fairies unfurling into a full concerto of blazing sound. Smiling, I whistled along thinking of the robins in spring.
white frost covers everything theres not a place where it cant be seen it twinkles and glows through the scarce rays of sun it flutters and blows carried away by the gentle winter wind seeping through my skin not a sound can be heard no one dares utter a word for the earth has been covered in white and all people are silent...
I dedicate my 2012 to the one I love most... Ouch! I shake my hand and stare at the door knob in disbelief. I open the front door and wince as the scorching late morning sun burns my face. I close my eyes and think back to when I was kid, standing too close to the BBQ as Dad lit it...BIG mistake. I close the door behind me and trip over my towel that had fallen in my chaotic response to the hot mid June weather. Confident from my recent gym ambition, I let my towel fall off my shoulder and reveal my newly sculpted body to the world as I casually approach the giant pool gate. I swing open the gate and walk in...that's when it hit me...SHE hit me. Laying on her beautifully toned tummy...I am a sucker for a woman's stomach; sensual, smooth, so full of subtle detail, the holder of life. I shake my head and snap back to reality in time to catch myself from nearly falling over. I lean down quickly and pick up my jaw from the ground in hopes she didn't notice. Her cardinal red hair up in a bun, or pony tail...I guess wildly as men do. I walk by as stable as I can... "don't stare, don't stare, don't stare," I whisper to myself. THUMP-THUMP!, THUMP-THUMP! THUMP-THUMP! My heart beats so intense I can feel it pulsating through my temples. I reach the lawn chairs and settle down 20ft from her. Directly diagonal to her right shoulder...her wonderfully shaped, perfectly curved shoulders. I tell myself to look away but cannot help. An intense magnetic force pulls my attention to her, I try with all my being to fight it but cannot advert my eyes. I yell at my brain to drop curtains on my eyes but no response. Giving into her dream-like curved body, the sweet gently sweeping motion from the back of her neck to her luscious, tanned cheeked backside. Her legs are incredible. I continue my stare. A non perverted stare of course. I'm taken back to college art classes. The overwhelming amounts of anatomy classes and sketches... Never had I seen such flawlessness. Who was this girl laying by my pool? The most incredibly indescribable woman I have seen and yet, I had only seen half! Just as if I was narrating aloud this profound experience, she turned over and rolled onto her back. Dying the darkest, ugliest death, then awaking to ALL of Heaven's golden warmth doesn't compare to when I looked into her blue-green eyes. Frozen in that moment in time, I had without a doubt, found the woman I knew I was to spend the rest of my life with.
Some colors in summer I miss them a lot Like shade, grass, sky And sunlight, warm or hot Stuck in 7th grade library I type what I want Like my tank-tops and shorts It calls to me in my mind It calls me like a taunt How badly I want summer To tell winter good-bye With my summer colors Like shade, grass, and sky
I'm thinking - inking words across the page - age, and rage in season, shouldn't reason against the curiosity of hope – "ope thy heart to know What rainbows teach and sunsets show? "- owe Emerson a debt, for inspiration (though a bit cliché) – Hey, sometimes truth is better stoned – owned or not – ought to bring release to the thrower – owe her no more than time and place – Just stand - and face the chatter from her heart – Art.
she died in spring she had loved spring a bird outside my window chats his tone high and busy Gloria could tell you his name garden beds along the front sidewalks she had many plants, blooming throughout the first warm days in Michigan plants with long waxy leaves light purple bulb on a long shoot we'd squeeze to hear them pop if she caught us tampering, her scolding was a breath of disappointment tender petals, bruised, shredded pain life, beauty, needs protection spring is too short
Flying carefree on the breeze Colored leaves full of sun Glint joyously as they twirl Like pages falling From my book of life Celebrating- Reminding me of when I was young Carefree, just a wisp Treading barefoot Along gravelly roads When days were long And I - all alone Would leap off haystacks Just me –and the wind Blue skies, clouds And imaginary things Until sunset beckoned It is time- you must go home. © Brenda V Northeast 2010 rewrite- 24th Jan 2012
twenty-four hours and counting......... I have been called home to the realm above I must submit a bow and gracefully move forward I must leave you behind my friend, my life.... But, for now...... I shall, sing a symphony of celebration dance naked deep within the trees of belief dive from the highest cliff I can find sit quietly and sip chamomile tea I will run as fast as I can skipping and jumping up to each cloud I see I will relish each moment with a ponder and a plea as the clock tics down to a grand completion I will fall upon my knees a prayer of thanks I will recite a word of encouragement to each one who has brought me into the light I sit for now, grateful for each second spent next to you a grateful journey of splendid yesterdays joyous the celebration , I pledge to watch over thee goodbye for now......... soon a flight to be free................. quite a Tantalize sensation wings a halo yes , it is me..........
Flowers, once rich with colors of reds and yellows, Now bloom with petals of gray. Birds keep to themselves their sweet songs of praise as they dwell in the comfort of their branched homes. The air seems to hold certain heaviness, A thick sense of gloom and sedation, As the sun neglects to rise from her slumber. Clouds linger beneath her, holding within them the night before, providing a soft bed for her rest. She dreams in lush greens As she is lulled deeper from the soft songs of a new and bright day.
The storm just threw and swirled Paints of grey, black and dark blue All over our Earthly dome Like a rageful Pollock. Wondrous, The noise and the lightning Turned us small The waves of flood Slamming against the feeble constructions Carrying away cars,trees and dogs Making me think Of Thor, Iansã and Zeus Neglecting all I've learned about electrons behavior and magnetism To think of gods from ancient times Perhaps acknowledging How extraordinary and dreadful a tempest is Some people let the storm in Pointlessly trying to run somewhere Only to be carried away And increase the general tension How long could this last? How far will it go? How harder can this wind blow? What if this... And what if that? How long can a minute last? We look at each other eyes A scared silent crowd Looking for the same instinctive answers Then as if the painter Had changed his mind The darkness is gone Cleaned with a cloth wipe The rough wind is now a soft breeze Blowing the fragrances of earth and eucalyptus Up my nostrils and over my face The clouds are revolving With light shades of grey and magnolia white Over the most beautiful of all blues There's a deep heavy silence A few muffled and distant sounds Or perhaps it's only me Caught in a dimensional current To share with all those humans before me The feelings of bewilderment and impotence In face of Nature's outbursts And with a grateful soul To finally understand How the seeds of hope Could repeatedly be sown and grown In the human heart Since the beginning of times.
Looking through the frosted pane I see, the moonlight, reflected off the newly fallen white. There is something tantalizingly beautiful, about this magical scene, set before me. Shadows play back and forth, chasing each other. A game of their own choosing of darkness and light. Of a sudden, Winter's breath exhales, and small Pixies of crystal and light , dance in a whirlwind , across the winter tableau. I am mesmerized , as the face of the moon breaks free, from the shrouds of mist, that imprisoned its' radiant glow. The world springs to life, shades of blue and gray and white, thrown together in a snowy prism. The Pixies dance at a feverish pace , of glitter and sparkle and bright. As I stare, I am humbled at this magical creation. Even the elderly oaks , firs and pines , with hair dusted white. Bow their heads in homage, to the keeper of the night.
Snow falling softly cloaking a white landscape, sounds all muffled peace reigns here in the stillness the earth is dressed as a bride That bride walks into spring there she brings new life settling in, bringing warmth to the once frozen land Soon she will usher in summer there to prosper and flourish watching her offspring grow as she drifts off into autumn Shorter days now the bride's reward long chilly nights now her only console each one leading her to the icy winter no respite now, life once more, full circle Snow falling softly cloaking a white landscape, sounds all muffled peace reigns here in the stillness the earth is dressed as a bride season's greeting to you all hugs
< winds gallow o ~ speak out thou shallow in ancient magnitudes of whispers wrapped in sparkling gems but that of more crisper embracing majesty like re- known spun hipster and thy O~ answers babbling tongue symbols of new births young nature's son
Who dictates my life? What I want to do I do not What I would like to do Is dictated by changes Like wind blowing across the grass Moving and changing to the decree of The winds of change Or like a mirrored lake reflecting who I am Then suddenly the wind blows and ripples change My reflection What is-is not what will always be Any interruption on this lake Will create another dimension of change And I like many are moved along by it A glass sea is time-waiting to be changed © Brenda V Northeast 27th April 2012
Neither spring upon hot summer days nor fall into cold winters grave Rather, prepare patient steps today paths establishing your ways Take just enough each day to hold so that winter seems both far away …and seasonal
Now it begins, the sweltering heat, And the candle wax melts, very discreet Forming a work of art in progress, That can be moulded to impress. Summer to me, it represents, An unending circle of ascent and descent, A chance for a new beginning Start over and rejuvenate the thinning. The thinning life, the thinning soul, Held only by a strand in control. But then comes a time for magic, When you decide to be sad or euphoric Where you choose the person you want to be And leave who you were and flee. You decide to cut and mould, Leave away from life all that is cold, Warmth, peace and serenity, Is what summer means to me.
Winter man fishing, Throwing the cold net, Trapped folks like fish! 04.01.2015
When autumn clouds roll across like waves darkening the sky, teasing with patches of bright white The golden sunshine in the morning swiftly evaporates Mid-morning is all grey and sullen The apples begin to darken and rot on their branches Too high and too late for anyone to retrieve The sharp blood red tones of leaves appear on the ground When did this change creep in? Six in the evening is bleak as if in deep night Slight summer cool breezes become chilly Night-time demands warmer wear A patch of blue sky and sun is a summer tease.
There's no heaven above me and this world's trying to bring me down Thinking what goes, will come back round But there seems to be no heaven above me And the worlds getting ugly I'm searching for comfort but your arms, they don't want to hug me I guess there's no heaven above me Sitting still in this storm, Calm, and i can't breathe Running homeless for days and I miss Autumns leaves Vacant are my tears But i can't breathe Rain falls from my eyes But i won't leave Take me to a place Where i can live Flowers no longer growbecause man can't give At the bus stop But i won't turn My patience's fatigued But i won't learn I believe in me and i believe in you i believe we hold the truth and it will see us through Crystals no longer shine for champagne is trust When it's all said and done, again i'll see your dust There's no heaven above me and this world's trying to bring me down Thinking what goes, will come back round But there seems to be no heaven above me And the worlds getting ugly I'm searching for comfort but your arms won't hug me I guess there's no heaven above me "Sometimes we go through things and there seems to be no end in site, Smile, because there could be" angels, demons, bad luck & Champagne
Legal Tender of Getting Old If tears were coins I'd be a rich man… If sadness was time I'd live forever… If I only knew what to do to make it better… I would do it in a heartbeat. But, no answers are easy when feelings crash around you… And the Sun does not shine in the heavens above… if only I could see…if only I could find a way…if only I knew… How do you say goodbye when there is no love? To only be me myself alone … again… decisions are frightening and shaky to behold… But change is needed for me to stay sane… all the while we continue to grow old. RLM '05
The sun sincerely set tonight, the rising moon to night's delight, where water couplets parse the night and scattered roots thy rose. Fore every drop that sops the sky and leaves nay speck of dry behind, the lunar orbit weeps this night and scatters roots thy rose. Let us hear the couplets, let us feel the drops, let us be gravity's eventual stop; let us be the anchor of said idle ship, where impacting moisture meets receiving lips. The summer is singing the sun lullaby, the song be so tearful the sun has gone shy, it's hiding behind the yonder hill's boon, the sun has come ready to hibernate soon. The moon's a ready and glowing at ease, for time's never standing- it's pace has increased, the violet tulips have noticed their turn and scattered roots thy rose.
Winter rises and snowflakes fall laying out a stark elegance of pure white untainted beauty Winter reduces everything to the basics, to the bare bones of life only the underlying structure is left behind with time, we too are reduced to our bare essentials, the bare bones as our frailty comes to light our bid for eternity slows down and the winter of our lives draws to a close, but life goes on, as winter gives way to spring and new life begins again, as winter ends.
Summer Passage Bones burnt white and crisp on deserts open hell of summer Eyes turn painful red in sun's fierce and punishing glare But children only know the surf and blue rolling waves Cool breezes, endless play, and warmth of friends Sky and sand take over Become the blue and white of life These things pass into tranquility in slow autumnal flow On gentle orange and yellow spiraling leaves at leisure Drifting, tumbling as in sleep, with no particular place to go Autumn catches every fragrance of the harvest too Lavender and pumpkin tell the truth The moon grows large as we pick every plant September, October and November forget the past As they sleep beneath the green serene Of summer's grass Created on 8/30/14 for Summer's End Poetry contest
A new dawn arrives with the whispering winds of a new day. Shadows of summer shade the nesting blue jay. Sunrise peaks through the weeping willow. Morning dew drops fall from the leaves of the red oak. Shadows of summer dance under sunlight, painting dark images on the ground. Shadows of summer spilling down. Daisies embrace the noontime sunlight. Sweet breezes blow to the hummingbirds delight. The woodpecker taps a rhythm of beats. The day is warm with midsummer heat. Shadows of summer dancing beneath the trees. Along comes the sting of honeybees.
Committing myself to action; I stopped to put all plans away. Determined to author my Life's book pages, I began the business of today. I did away with past and future: Losses made and profits gained; That to lose and this to gain. With the past already accounted for, And future yet to be taken account of; It's a waste for me to keep their books - My business is today
Full moon rises with luminous essence falling on fresh snow reflecting a myriad of twinkles. Torch light radiance blankets meadow and field, exuding the shadowy lustre of an imposter twilight. Refracting moonbeams encompass forests, dancing with flickering light thru' Evergreen trees. Moonlight emulates day, illuminating the midnight hour... Translucent colors diffuse the dawn, shimmering on fresh snow with sparkles of morning light.
When I think of Fall's harvest, Corn is at the top. Pumpkins are seen everywhere... Sweet Potatoes too, Roast Turkey...non-stop! Gracious Lord, "Thanks"!
Go love your rainbow falling from trees Your spectral forests stripped of leaves Stark branches fingering the sun's eye The little deciduous garden waiting to die, and dappled ground appalled I will praise the days of fainting breeze The hurricanes swallowed by the fog, my shack at ease I will praise the days of sea's white gnashing At the gull swirling above the perilous fish And the children tumulting in larval greed of freedom As they come home from school. For dappled days, praise! Autumn Splendour by David Smalling
The last of summer's scorching days wilt by Watching bush fires mushroom languidly into jet streams Whilst the vast coastal plain laments at apathetic clouds Trees hang limply on lifeless limbs Forcing leaves in search of their shade Beaches scorch under sunburnt bodies Through a quivering veil of vicious haze That longs for a breeze to steal the greedy sweat Dripping from finger to toe A cool relief arrives, as kites take children to the skies Heralding the imperceptible change To a coast that's had its roast As autumn blankets the last summer weeks Like a ghost lost in a fog The seasons are passing each other by As morning lawns reveal footprints through the night's silky dew As sheets are swapped for duvet's And hearth's wail in search of warmth Cool night air thieves under doors Dogs and cats curl tighter in a ball Suburbs bristle and await A sun, that now sleeps through Trees stand frightened as their leaves make a choice Emeralds over gold or yellows to favour red as Auburn litter eddies in awkward swirls Above their frosty roots Autumn now shows herself in all her grandeur A frigid concert of muted colours And musty soil beneath shortened days Bracing for winter's wrath in all her mighty fury 31 August 2014
Clear blue sky, on a fresh morning sweet flowers shower of fragrance beneath the green fields of summer sky. Sun rays touch my window pane, and the colors of rainbow dance in my palm like wings of butterflies that fly above, across the clouds of summer sky. Wagging leaves sway side by side to the rhythm of summer breeze. Birds are chanting their song, dance and fly trying to reach the sky Tall trees are my shield from the glistening sun that reflects on me. Jasmine, rose and lilacs join me on my rambling Under the summer Sky of April.
The late December air rings with the silence crisp and chill. Oceans of drifted, white, snow crest barn doors and windows. Frosted panes sheets of crystalline parchment roll, perforated like strips of ribbon candy from tin roofs as icicles hang from gutters fringed like shawls. The sharp snap of branches masks the bark of distant dogs.
A heart becomes brittle and splinters in the cold if left too long on the windowsill. What is it to me? Your back sang everything I needed to know as I slipped on frozen time left ticking on the sidewalk. I don't know what all the fuss is about. There's really no reason for Winter's treason. It's only another season after all.
A doe and her mate tempt the fates wind driven snow what a delight... new white blossoms on barren bushes over large hats overhang on hoary old buildings highlighted branches on majestic leafless trees magical silence in the quality of light a blanket of white pulled up to nature's chin perchance to dream a new tomorrow... a new day
Autumn soothes and kills off the Spring blooms Winter hiding in its triple dark womb My surroundings are an unusual tomb And my insides change like the seasons My cold soul seeps out of my skin into the outside world My heated anger makes those around me sweat I can't say I've done anything I'll ever regret I would never charge the stars with treason When you're silent your words mean so much more People don't quite expect what you have in store As some of those words die off and aren't reciprocated While the evident few simply appreciate it I'm not entirely sure why I write How I fight, curse in spite, and yet feel alright Maybe there is benefit in setting things aright But these things seem to revert back to their original stage Just as the seasons alternate once they're out of a phase What does it mean to be happy or snappy? As if our life can be categorized in a simple X-Y graph There's so much more than that, so much more complex And just as the seasons aren't simply a change in temperature Our life can't be categorized in a simple change of temperament I'm fine with the way things are But like the caveman I still gaze at the stars Each of us deeply believing that it does not get much better than this But in reality this is further than the highest bliss Whether that change is there, available to us Or simply a silly hopeful illusion May not even be worth the fuss Not worth this confusion
Wild and domestic they flourish strong and bold, Upon the new season they spring into life. Millions of colors they create beautiful sights, Spreading scents to natures building creatures, Creatures small, flying, crawling, they renew. Spreading seeds of glory upon every stop, Developing springs intentions of new birth. First sprig that flows outward secures life. As it reaches into the heavens it embarks, On a cycle that prettifies earth's dignity. That shows the beauty that flowers bring. For all of nature to see and smell so sweet, Spring shall be the start of Flowers galore. Written by Cecil Hickman Sponsor Francine Roberts Contest Name Flowers
A dusty old town-so quiet a man, a traveler takes off his pack-so heavy and reclines for a rest. they dont know his name, they never do they wont even bother to ask he troubles them-his mysterious past leads them to prejudiced views but were one to ask, for if naught but a name what would this traveler say- would he speak? a word, no. a name, he would give them and pass "Im Wanderer, the world is my street." Wanderer-what a name does it signify much of his life or is it a code- a cypher? an enigma to his past.
From Tripoli to Cairo I saw the intifada leftover After Tunisia and Yemen Like a dam broken After it had sucked life from dry sand Morocco, Kuwait, Djibouti and Oman I heard birds singing at the cliff Falsetto dawn In the rift valley of religion And water pouring from each sweat Flood the root of the poisoned tree Not Regina Not Phoenix dactylifera Not if the honey killed the bee. Some have fallen Shaken by the protest of the wind Some stay uneasy For it is the season of orchestrated discontent I see nothing to applause Except that stability And the availability of corn Are rare in democracy there. For culture is soil and climate That every root begins with And nothing strange may grow In a rich soil's barren love. Heroes there and villains Have ridden sand forever They do no swim this mediation well Spring rain brings flash floods And then vulture upon vulture Circling the corner of the eye. Too bad the spring Shook the blossoms off in breeze I smell the empty branches The resin bleeding in the new night Hot summer's dead piled up Against a Syrian wall. I pray for the autumn worm And the bones winter white My sajada is Mecca strewn And in my head the adhaan The adhaan, an intoxicated bell Calls me out of grief.
she walked quietly back to her sanctuary wings aflutter a dream in her heart she longed to fulfill her mission a quest to bring a saddened soul to the glory of the eternal light in dedication she spent long nights in prayer she came to me in the sparkling light of that October morning she said I was one of the chosen she talked of miracles...... she spoke of trials...... she taught me of love , faith and of hope a vessel sent to me so that I may live again a gift of the holy ghost a promise delivered with a tear I ask that I may receive...... beautiful angel of mine you have a "soul of a saint" you bring me a "life of a new beginning" I fall to my knees in prayer a song of eternity accompanies..... pure white visions surround, a deep love fulfilled................. amen _______ Contest
I have been coldness I have been ice Something chilly ate my thoughts But when my Moslim friend looks so sad I cannot reach her with my wintry heart I want to tell her what the seasons mean to me Winter takes Winter gives ( what is it your eyes keep to themselves? ) Hey, I can share loneliness with you ( how can I make you happy? ) She hugs me Tomorrow Perhaps tomorrow spring will multiply in our souls
Early in the morning, you expect to awake and see, a bright new day dawning, blue skies and green leaves. Instead the clouds are dark grey, and the trees are all bare, no children have come out to play, even the birds have flown away. The window pane is frosted white, and no cars seem to be heard outside, the grass is white and no more green, and the sky is an awful sight. Everyone is snug inside, except for the flowers , as they have died. Just the clouds enjoy the day, as for all of us, inside is where we'll stay
Standing here by the door While I watch the rain just poor It is splashing on the ground as the rain Drops come down even more I decide to walk around in the rain Hoping to see a rainbow Even if I don't I know it won't be long Untill the sun will comes out And drys this all up And I will sit out side Watching the clouds roll by And as the sun set changes colors Knowing soon it will go and hide And when morning arrives I will watch the morning sun come out to play As it gets ready to heat up this beautiful summer day And I will sit out side latter on that night Watching the clouds roll by And as the sun set changes colors
In Winter it's a new laid blanket of snow-- pristine, immaculate, innocent...holy. Spring brings a softer air, at once both fecund and perfumed, and wildflowers leap into life, and trees are reborn in gradients of green, and life is temperate, gentle, fragile-- caught between the two brutes. Summer feeds me: passion-hued strawberries, fat blueberries, corn- on-the-cob fit for kings and queens, while fireflies dance and crickets sing for our secret and quiet pleasure. Now Autumn is different-- a season to glory death and singe our unseen immortal parts awake. The trees shed their technicolor tears to lay a carpet of sadness: by far the bravest season.
An Autumn leaf floats, curled in a puddle, lingering. Memories. Snowflakes drifting shadows, dissolving. It's February, Spring is whispering.
Splendid colours and hues Crispy ,colorful carpet of leaves Laid for everyone to walk on Dried leaves waiting To swirl and twirl in the autumn breeze Misty mornings and hazy evenings Playing with the autumn Sun Laughing ripened fruits Waiting to be plucked All this acting as ,harbinger of winter days Name:Irfana Ali Bhat Contest: Autumn Splendor date: 8/31/2012
Autumn a loneliness Winters in regress Spring forth unto blessings Summer's sigh of happiness
A telepathic throat gargles stories and spits fables' fish into a watery abyss. The surface shimmer draws us in to fall, dream, dive, swim as the storyteller spins us. We balk at the tales of winged-hearts. Love doesn't exist. We swear by this as God disappears, erases slowly while we wake up in season. Love drops to the ground with winter all around. Snow covers and closes our eyes. Pronounces what has died. In the lens the pupil frames a frozen image of my flame. Could it possibly survive? Rise up and be alive? The same old story persists where we make the same old wish. Devils, misfits, do-gooders, cherubs and chumps, wonder if God is make-believe, a dream or a magician's trick. We cross our fingers and chant the scriptures until The Almighty is real or a lie we can live with. To be, to be, is miracle enough for me. My cat chews on this paper—naps on every draft of this poem. I worship her.
Agh! My soul is chilled by this evil Northern wind! I cry for love! Venus, where are you? Somewhere closer to the sun. Always closer to the sun.
roses have opened their layers of lids the eyes of nature are looking around clouds swept in by a jocund breeze attempt to travel in consistent unions closing each hole to preserve the Blue for the days of that summer to follow roofs are awaiting the kiss of the sun making them swelter in the stillness at noon when nature seems dreaming enthralled by the blossoms of linden the fragrance so sweet can hold all the heat and the joy of summers gone by
Serenity dislodged by frivolous butterflies, Gathering and congregating here and there. Ruffling composure, a whirling breeze, I shivered. I, a rugosa rose; he a bramble walker And bee keeper, I had hips and potpourri, Thorns and prickles. Not entirely attractive to most. As he walked he collected pollen, curiosity was my downfall. Microspores attached and for eons, waited, Leisurely seeped into the earth around my feet. Slowly sprouting, hidden within the brier of me. Waiting for a sapphire spring and a lapis night, To once again be charmed by a bold Saturn as he shines
Geese glide thru the air watching the snow roll with the flow. Squirrels jump in the piles to wiggle and roll. Dogs check every nock and cranny then run all around. Little girls make snow angels where perfect delicate wings abound. Boys make a fort with a snowball fight destined to win. Skaters sweep snow from their ice to be able to spin. Hockey players in their play scatter the snow and rough up the ice. Mothers look from the window, where while baking every thing looks nice. Sleders regale themselves in the speed of the hill. To driver's it's dangerous, messy, slowing everything down. But to every one it's the time of year where joy can abound, All because the swirling madness came floating down and around. And after the fun when we lay snuggling in our beds… We'll sleep till the next day with snow dancing in our heads. And dreading the day when the snow goes away, We can't wait to run out and again to play.
Fall came to my door today In colors of red and gold. The sky was clear The air was crisp. As I walked along a leave strewn path I watched the squirrels play, listened to The birds serenade and marvelled at The beauty before me. Some find Fall depressing They say it speaks of death and ending. But to me, It's just Mother Nature Singing her children a lullaby Before she sends them off to bed. Josette Davis Key 2013
the illuminating sounds of summer first there is birds sweet sernarding amidst cottonwoods and if your lucky enough even capture whispers of the wind speaking down in a lustrous valley of green and don't forget about echoes of an eagle encircling the blue yonder looking for it's mate or you can capture sounds of a babbling brook flowing down an winding outcrop stream but to me I think my favorite sound thus far is the laughter of my child's voice and the sizzling sounds of hot dogs and hamburgers being made on my grill as were watching fireworks display from the back of a twin engine houseboat floating down a rivers edge Oh the sounds of summer would be nil if I would awake from this enchanted dream
Though we all do celebrate birthdays, the best birthday, falls on the twenty fifth of December, as on this day, our Lord, Jesus Christ had been born, the day is considered indeed great, as the Son of God, had come into this world, and had left us by forgiving our sins, the day begins, by people of all castes visiting various Churches, and offering their prayers to the Lord in here, on this day, the day is celebrated with a lot of passion, and fervour, wherein we also get to wine and dance, and be merry all the while, the kids are quite happy, as on this day, they receive lovely gifts, for been good kids, from a very special man, known as Santa Claus by acting as a postman, but differs in style and in his way, by delivering the gifts in advance, as he does know that, there is no use in relying with the snail mail, and the kids would indeed be sad, if they don't get their presents in time, whereby he does not take the usual route, but always takes the wrong one, by entering through the chimneys or through the fireholes, how he does it, we have no idea, inspite of been fat, his favourite are the cookies indeed, wherein he seeks an easier way to get into the houses of the kids, here's a message, he leaves for you all, wishing you all a Merry Christmas!! Dt:-21st November, 2012, Name :- Manu Nair
When the summer walks away into the fall Holding hands with our childish ambitions; Our time Not looking back at all I will place the memories in my back pocket So they are not too far behind But I will look forward Knowing I'm on borrowed time
Born in Autumn, a buffer season Not Summer with days of sun Fields of green with life abounding And sparkling clear springs. Not Winter with her majestic wonderland Of brisk cold winds which kiss the skin Of gentle snowflakes that fall to earth Of a blanket of snow that sheets the earth A covering that allows all to sleep for its rebirth. Not Spring the beginning of life anew When snowy fields give way to green grass kissed by Morning's dew Of promises of love, the inner mating call Spring a season of life, the most beautiful of all. Born in Autumn Things die, They give way To winds that blow decaying leaves From once beautiful green trees Autumn poor Autumn how it yearns to live A season of brilliant colors Colors that are false for they hide The fact what Autumn colors dies. A season where not sure Too cold to go bare arm Too warm to wear a coat So sweaters were made Not too cold, not too hot are these days. Spring a season of love Summer a season of fun Winter a season of rest But Autumn a season of labor You must reap the harvest You must prepare for Winter. I fell in love with a girl of Spring A joyful, lovely, spirited thing Her eyes were wild Upon her face there was a suspicious smile She was every thing a man could want Carefree, laughter, emotions of Joy O' my heart did she toy Bountiful, free yes was she This little girl of Spring. I am a child of September Born in the month that begat Autumn Withdrawn, quiet, working hard I have a strong desire to change the world Just as Autumn does It breaks down Summer, forces him to yield To give birth to Winter That is what Autumn does And for all it's glory-for all it's change Winter blankets him with her snow So the change of Autumn goes unknown So is the life of me Only changing the scenery temporarily. The other seasons understand They have their place in time They yield their beauty grand But Autumn yearns for it all He wants to fight He waves his colors boastfully He shines with colors bright And Winter, she only laughs And blankets him with her snow. I fight for beliefs I hold dear But yet I yield them to Time. For Time rules all the seasons supreme Time is the Father of all things Time tells us we must only love Those in which seasons we can share Autumn could have Winter which he proceeds But Summer has Spring which he succeeds Autumn to Winter, Summer to Spring That is how Time made it. (continued September's Child Part two)
We held our souls together Enjoyed the colorful spring bliss Yet, The hands, that once held yours Are held again this time This time to pray; "be mine" We saw the world together Felt those warm summer haze Yet, The eyes, that once gazed yours Are soaked again this time This time to plead, "be mine" We walked the roads together Caught those falling autumn leaves But, The feet, that once led with mine Stride away this time And leave me asking, "why?" We loved ourselves together Beat the chilly winter blaze But, The lips that once touched mine Are touched again this time This time to say goodbye...
Multicoloured jewels Bursting from bud Spring splendor
The trees are naked now Branches shiver in the wind Bold strokes of orange Paint the purple sky Brittle grasses cling together Backs turned to the chill Like monks at prayer Clad in cloaks of brown Landscapes in decline Mourn the death of flowers In garden graveyards Tears of rain weep upon their seed It is gone, I feel the pain Of summers loss, beauty spoiled A single rose, pressed within my pages Sustains me til new seasons are regained 11/29/2011
my physical body......yearn...... my mental being......reach...... my spiritual energy.....pull...... within my sanctuary of mind, body and soul I center in a calming request of spirit awakening with scattered energies tossed along the ebbing shore line I must focus...... I must touch ailment...... I must harness thy yoke of completion my breath slows in silent acceptance as a single sun beam calls of gracious salutations my spirit drift endless of cresent moon at twilights eve. and warriors song in mornings mist as warmth showers my flesh my spirit tingle complete touching a loving convergence, the ultimate purity received I become one as the spirit calls with each breath, completion...... ___________________________
O November, you are one of the twelve stepping stones in a year, created as an element in the cycle of time. Without you Thanksgiving and a transition to colder days would be absent. Without you that one day every year on which I age, would never occur. We are people, speaking to the world of your importance and of the essential role you play annually. I ask you to come around at least once a year, and not to be late. I promise to make your presence quite pleasant and worthwhile, for I will celebrate each day of your being here to the fullest extent.
October 1st. The musty aroma of dead leaves fills the cool night air. The passing of time seems like a blur as the fast moving clouds hide the bright crescent moon. Autumn is finally upon us, and yet nothing has changed. Just another season passing by like a distant relative you see on holidays. Sleep eludes me as insomnia holds me hostage in its chaotic embrace. Morning will come all too soon, rudely shaking me from some pointless dream. And October will soon turn to November, and winter will suddenly appear. I will no longer be able to sit outside and watch the night go by. I will shiver in the cold, longing for the gentle touch of spring. And so my night goes, alone with my thoughts. It's getting late so I will wander around until I can sleep. Goodnight crescent moon. Goodnight autumn sky. I'll see you again within a blink of an eye....
I confess I rarely take the time To thank the past for Yesterday And that I rarely miss a chance To mumble some complaint: How fast you went, How little of your time I spent, How much I've lost to you, How much of you I regret! But though you took with you Todays I wished to keep I've not forgotten The many Todays That Yesterday got me through. To Yesterdays I raise my glass A toast to faithful friends of past Too often overlooked and Not too often thanked. So here's to Yesterday - For never forgetting to take away The burdens of Today.
Pink sky dark trees rising three silhouetting against sky pink sky overhead three trees rising leaning paper cut-outs leaning black paper cut-outs on pink pages above wood fence running away darker down to shed breathing all in breathing self in smoky air breathing self out into air tree silhouettes breathing calmly silently quiet cat gliding noiselessly me-and- ering cor- ner darker disappearing darker like breath along air
________________________________ Little princess spirea growing quaint within her garden fetching thoughts of song aspire swaying grace in summer breeze with her loving hand of nurture and a heart of light aglow each summer day pass lovely as she sings a melody of praise and growth ________________________________ Contest Anagrammatically Speaking Spirea ='s Parise Aspire='s Parise Praise='s Parise ________________________________ Spirea~A lacy Pink Japanese Perennial Flower
Happy new year healthy wealthy I wish for you My lovely dear
If the bells of Cristmass ring in your town... How late do you stay...waiting around... For the snow is falling...and kids are calling... All waiting for Cristmass to come... For all through out this land...Cristmass is at hand... You can hear the calling...till the morning... Even in your sleep... Now and then...Santa wins... He comes into your world... For if you think...what guilds him to... The night we make for him... As he worked all year...for Cristmass cheer... As he fills the trees...each and ever year... The kids know...as it goes... The bells give in to his calling...
People talking change of seasons, Taking wings birds,on migration!
Since the beginning of time you've existed like a curse. For some your existence forever their irritating scourge. Your sleekness, glossy and tranquil as you lay flat. Molding yourself to everything's very shape and being. Silently you lay there waiting on anything's fleeting touch. With no sounds or movement waiting for the glide over. Knowing that the slightest twitch can cause an urgency. Nature your creator coldness deep in your very center. No action ever taken some times instantly you wither away.
summer green has gone autumn's colors begin to spark orange, yellow, red they fall a splash of leaves across brown ground and i settle around a burnt orange fire drinking hot chocolate while eating toasted marshmallows admiring autumn's colors karen croft august 18,2012 autumn's colors contest
snow falls flakes cling to trees barking dogs grow silent for the moment corroding wire fences brown dying grass a spider scales the white cracking ceiling the highway echoes
I gazed out of my favorite window, The beautiful tree touched by the rain. The branches shone like jewels, Diamonds of nature. The daylight shinning, Through the pristine droplets of water. There were a few trees like this, Simply welcoming spring. The rain had endured, Cloudy and foreboding. The tree like a ray of sunlight, Cheering the day. Author: Gwen Meyer-Erlach Schutz
In the depths of winter I find the icy touch of the sky A cold season where I might take delight in the holy light forever I won't give into any pressure to change my thought system Perhaps I will continue on the path which I should have taken years ago
Such A Strange World Such a strange world we live in Cold air blowing while the warm sun shines Snowflakes drifting softly to the ground Shining like chips of the purest diamond they cover the ground The sky turns into the deepest of baby blues as the sun rises Making the soft white clouds brighter as they float by White disappears turning grey in the face of winter's fury The winds blow as the light of the sun dies behind the clouds The soft snowflakes turn to razors as they are whipped by the wind All of the beauty of the earlier world is gone and forgotten Snow dunes and ice mounds bury life as they move across the land Shovels come out under the dim light of amber streetlights Paths shoveled and reshoveled time after time throughout the night The morning comes with its own shade of amber The clouds are gone and the paths are clear The streets have their own beauty and purity The sun shines on the fresh snow, untouched by man Showing that beauty can create chaos Teaching that chaos can create beauty A world of contradictions Such a strange world we live in
There's a beautiful, pink flower in my garden. A beautiful, pink rose that blooms every year. Its petals are as pink as the color of strawberry ice cream. As soft as a baby bird's feather. It smells of sweet perfume. The scent of clean clothes. There's a beautiful, pink flower in my garden. A beautiful, pink rose that blooms every year. The stem is as green as string beans. As strong as a piece of metal that will never break. It stands there straight as can be, only moving when strong winds run by. There's a beautiful, pink flower in my garden. A beautiful, pink rose that blooms every year. Its leaves are rough and pointy at the ends, with many deigns going every which way. Its thorns are sharp like the blade of a knife, looking threatening as they stick out of the stem. To me, this beautiful, pink rose symbolizes the beginning of Spring. The beginning of a new day, a new year.
____________________________________ ~ a muse of golden brown a beautiful dark etched love my sisters, my brothers fly free in this day so vivid a clear path pushing toward completion a unity.... solidarity.... shall we dance a sub-Saharan prance collective rhythms, a shuffle step a long time coming this freedom bright colors adorn overflowing spirit of love....... so grand , so free grab hold of my hand together we shall prove common! ~
I'm jumping out of my skin the weather thick and warm, Pungent chlorine fills the air I hear a grilled symphony; Feeling the touch of the dive, painted with the Sun's color; It is finally Summer
I felt it heaven in my attic room Overtaken by a silent peace through parted curtains I saw it was the snow had come to veil the land with ribbons from the sky. ©Kathryn McLoughlin Collins
Blossoms only given in pink and white but of such sweet tempers and as a branch or member of this royalty we welcome lovely almond scented gorse and broom and leading now to the mayflower time the aroma of spring Oh! such aromatic incense soft dreaming of happy time !
I've been traveling on the go to where no one knows all the while i'm alone when did goodbye become a song here's something for you and here's something for you as well all these passings i do not know i've been traveling on the go all the while you're alone goodbye became a song
Skeletal treetops rake a Wagnerian sky. like fingertips, chasing Valkyrie's, through cirrus clouds; conducting the winter wind, across the cerulean blue tarp of early evening. Bare beds, a mass of fallen leafs, shiver; above bulbs of tulips and daffodils which rest like skulls in a grave. The sullen light of late December dusk, pierces the scene with shadows, sharpening the edges of brick walks to bloody wayward knees frost crusts, scabbing over the vacant graves of long lost pets as the day ends.
Autumn is calling The majestic leaves Beauty in color Breeze blows cool Within shorter days Russell Sivey Entrant into Joann Grisetti's "Gogyoka" contest 10/20/2012
Gold bedazzled leaves rimmed in crimson Squirrels, bunnies forage for acorns and berries Crisp air beckons to don a favorite sweater or fleece Children lament shorter days and homework soon Sights, smells, attitudes beckon us As nature changes her wardrobe Jeff Eklund Autumn Colors 8/13/2012
i want to burn it all down so it'll be so hot i'll have to take it out with tongs. i want to take it out with my hands; and know i'm still alive. that's what. a man needs to burn everything to know it's still there. to be alive, a man has to burn his self down with the truth of it, of her and him and all the rest that opens in his mind and sees itself with his eyes that lingers in his body's hold on the world, to know it's still there. i burn it down every time; every year, and when nothing happens, there's a deep freeze... but freeze is never deep enough; we have to burn it out: and when they don't come to empty everything out into ourselves again, we have to burn it out alone. every season has its own cool burn. whether the breeze of summertime, or the winter snow when no one knows... how long...how long?-- and all anybody cares in fragments. wasting away the youth they can never remember to have. i want to burn down this youth they claim. i want to break it if that's all it is; a petty break. and give it back, knowing you're still alive. after the break. and after a while, i burn it all down, knowing i'm still alive all the while. whether you make the break or not. there's still time to burn. to feel the burning, and the aftermath that is summer-autumn, and the leaves are gone. they are the only going that i imagine. the only death that i rejoice in. the burning of the leaves. until i burn it all down. again.
January, so you've met December Touched his decorated tree And seen the tinsel, star, and toys that please 'Pon New Year's Day you saw him leave weakness hit you in your knees 'Twas such a cold experience that long lasting breeze But in your cold depths you have healed wanting to meet February Knowing with his appearance your cold will evaporate into the beginnings of spring Spring you haven't experienced only cold, rain, wind, ice and snow But how you long to meet Spring and see the joy it brings Only Hot Cocoa, warm fires and long lazy nights have you enjoyed But you've heard of summer where the nights are warm and short and people go out to play in the night seeing fireflies and moonbeams.. January you've been given a bad rap of having a ever changing temperment Many don't look for your good qualities of letting the earth rest from feeding all the shrubs, trees, flowers, and grass that drink the earth's life giving nutrients...... January I am so glad that I got to meet you and will look forward to our time together again next year. Your Friend Always.. Sponsor: Vicky Tsiluma Contest: Hello January Written: January 17,2014
The grass masks the sin-black soil and they stick a flower deep down and now and then a seed, and the children hide belts beneath the beds and the men threaten so often and everybody pictures the ease yet remain reaching mutating in and out of wishes. grass masks the sin-black soil and the grass pushes upward for much more than display. Change is but a fancy: we are all stuck in one inevitable realism. Everybody pictures the ease. We chase the horizon. We look for gold at a rainbow's end. We count the stars. We hug the dust. until there is nothing left to reach for but the sure hold of death.
Morning's crowning glow, Gentle indispensable love, Glimmering, Bringing to awareness Sun's warmth, Graced upon your neck, A summer cherished in time, Stirring stunning rainbows, Whisper fair wind in my ear.
Its like music to my ears it keeps going on and on it never stops Its got a rhythm that's like no other just flowing one after another seems like it'll never end a sound so deep, so strong it carries a tune, like a tune in a song ringing in my ears taking my soul forgetting my fears such a beautiful sight as it runs across the sky in the middle of the night each one brighter than the one before so dark, but unique within each minute i see yet another streak lighting up the sky watching from the window a sight that is worthwhile yet with each moment becoming so vile the sound so deep, so strong vanishing as it hits the floor and as the lighting strikes and the thunder claps, you know the rains going to continue to pour
I stare and watch In my strange delight While you cling to your last Strings of what was life Brown and demised Fluttering in the breeze As winters tease Reminder of times passage Lost and alone Where the rest has gone Would you still be here? When springs blossom is near? Or will you finally pass And allow new buds to grow here? Cling if you must But be weary of the Gusts That life shall bring
Unseasonably warm is my heart, warmed further by the sun near wilted grass on a midday forage, whose emerald dew evaporated before it touched my tongue. Unseasonably warm is my heart, but empty is my stomach. Unseasonably warm is my fur, weighed down with perspiration in the rippling air which woke me from my winter nap to wander wilting hotlands. Unseasonably warm is my heart, but empty is my stomach. Unseasonably warm is my breath, laboring to keep a gasp, as every step is heavier then the last in the fog. The fog which permeates the rippling air, and stills my eyes with blinders. Unseasonably warm is my heart, but empty is my stomach. Unseasonably warm is my stomach, voicing it's unrest in the surly heat, as I wander unseasonably through the forage which never bloomed, searching for a meal which never woke ...from it's long eternal slumber. Unseasonably warm is my heart, untimely is my faint ...whisper to me from afar, oh keeper of my destiny.
How beautiful are the creations, that are beyond all explanations. What lies forever of foundations, the very majestic plantations. Voices of opera soaring high in the wind. The harp and piano linger at the end. The southern climate in the spring will bring, field hands ready for cotton picking. Blooming white cotton fields in the sun that glimmer, near the muddy Mississippi River. Cotton wagons loaded with cotton bolls. Down the Mississippi the river boat rolls. Gardens of flowers, red roses, and jasmine. White doves gathering near the fountain. The muddy river for irrigation, horse drawn carriages for transportation, are might fine images of great plantations. A morning cloud of fog covers the lawn. Planters in straw hats awake before dawn. French doors open to the morning breeze. Echoes of children and what they see, hummingbirds, honeysuckle, and honeybees. The very grand columns that hold the balcony high, overlook the plantation for miles wide. Golden curled ladies gather the veranda sitting in rosewood chairs, for coffee, beignets, and jasmine sweet air. From the grand house high on the hill, a heron next to the spinning windmill. A romantic oil painting is on display, of a bride and groom on their wedding day. In the background is the huge oak tree, the frame made of mahogany. Picnics under huge oaks streaming with moss, images of plantations will never be lost. The stairway leads to very grand rooms. French windows open to the light of the moon. The river reflects the history, of cotton plantations along the Mississippi. The people hold on to this grand memory.
Early summer Sunshine comes through my window Blue sky with wisps of white clouds overhead Trees stand tall their green leaves bring joy to onlookers Summer is more than a reason It is a state of mind One which causes the heart to feel a heavy sense of peace Even as autos whizz by the primeval powers can be sensed by those who are sensitive enough to realize that the ancient world still lives withing all of us The past is only apparently dead The time has come to realize that the joys of summer will be with us FOREVER!
In the high of time The seconds of seasons change We have counted our minutes In hope our hours lay long
Minutes drag by, innumerable and uncounted, Turning into days, months, years. Never a straight line, backward, forward, sideways, flying, pacing, always moving. Seasons come and go, the Wheel never stops. Bottom or top, differences none, Hope struggles to simply keep up.
Remnants of autumn's golden beauty cling to dull gray branches. Battered by the howling Huron wind, one last dance whirls them down to a final resting place. Whitecaps shatter the boulder-laden shore, leaving frothy trails upon the sand. The blue waters of Huron change hue with each passing cloud that blows across the stormy sky. Boulders blanketed in bright green moss strike out against the barren wasteland that we are left with. Alas, a brisk chill sweeps into my heart, for I know November delivers an icy winter upon his shoulders.
i look out the window at the white winter world she shows her clear sky blue eyes frozen in pain my mind cries as people pass by on sidewalks leaving tracks in the snow
The sky formed gray clouds bursting into loud noises that I could not explain, the only thing that did make sense is that I was alone I felt afraid. A flash of lighting warning me, yet at the same time making me nervous about what was yet to come. I had circled my future in my mind perfectly, I thought I knew until the storms brewed and they emptied my head of common sense. It made me feel trapped some how under a nights sky waiting to be destroyed by that one sound that made my whole body reminisce of my fear. like I was the mouse afraid to be stepped on by an elephant. I'd close my eyes and cover my ears just to help this fear I had. A little baby rapped under sheets so tight, Mother wasn't there to hold me but i'd learned to hold myself. Praying that the nightmare would end, But little did I know it was only the beginning. Summer skies nice and blue brought stormy nights filled with danger and ruin. Why couldn't I just get over this one tiny fear? I wouldn't travel to Mexico because the storms are too severe... I would always wake up afraid looking out my window just to make sure. Make sure that there was no gray in sight but then again blue skies could also be deceiving. It wasn't until I heard only rain, That calmed me down that lessened my pain. I could walk and talk and pretend it never happened but storms do come and when they do I tremble in fear my knees get weak and I sigh another day another fear.
cool crisp mornings sipping hot steaming cocoa wrapped in layers of warm outter wear a scarf wound round my neck as if a present my breath puffs out my mouth as if sos in the wind brilliant coloured leaves falling frantically on brown ragged out ground autumns delight!
Beyond the glass that holds my breath, Autumn's bright world has been wounded — Both nature and the markers of man are wrapped in cold layers of gauze as still and white as the fingers of death. The deciduous are holding a vigil, Elm prays with a shivering maple, Their frail branches barely touch. From distant chimneys, Escape long, thin sighs of smoke, Each slightly calling to the horizon, Gently, ever so gently poking, For the sun resists its rising, It appears, but sleep is in its eyes. The wind keens against the pane, A sound that quivers with unquiet. Humanity, no different from beast, Slumbers in caves, unwilling to leave, Save for those with mouths to feed. Sipping from a cooling mug, Fighting a feeling of being confounded, I watch and listen at winter's bedside, Let commissary shift, empathy tug. From the roof an icicle begins to bleed, See, how the pathways have narrowed, Drifts have spread their maddening disease, The sweet gleam of yuletide sadly recedes, And while I touch the frost on the sill, I think of rosehip and sage and yarrow, Revoke the echo of a cleansing rain, Then recall that Easter will heal all again.
Lightening bolts of color frolic across the snow, Splatter on the ground, bounce off ice crusted pond, Heralding Icicle's last rendezvous dance with Spring, As soft white dove takes silent wing. Twisted, sculptured shard of frozen translucent reflection, Suspended from tree limb, aching to touch the ground, Holding faithfully to flora's naked outstretched arm, Safe inside branches hidden from childish harm. Feeling warm sunbeams as cool winds tickle and tease, Glinting lights of rainbow prisms, swirling trapped within, Slowly soften trickling, transforming its very being, To silky liquid sunshine remodeling a Winter's dream. First a tear, now flowing stream, thawing and diminishing. Born from liquid frost, a sparkling blade of ice, Bejeweled Crystal Splinter, adorning woodland fir, Unrivaled rainbow beauty -- a transitory lure. Now thin shrinking sliver, reluctantly receding, Wisped into the clouds, down into the waking pond, Captured by earth, awaiting rebirth next Winter's Storm, In Nature's first ice cascade on a chilly frosted morn.
Step gently, my sweet, Into the hallowed night, And be not afraid Of the mystery awaiting you. See me as your escort, Here to overshadow Frightening things, Great and small. To the gates We must journey. Your presence delayed Long enough. Be aware Of where your eyes land, For this is no time To be foolish. Seek now The gift of courage As you enter this domain, So fascinating. Deities ponder Your existence, And would have you For their own. Go meekly into the night, My friend, But wield your sword Of righteousness well. I'll stand beside you, Watching all along, Counting every piece of candy You'd dare consume.
Clocks tick bells chime willingly to tell the time Seconds minutes hours days Turn into weeks months then decades Take time make time to look this way in the middle of your busy day I dont have time i hear you say my time our time gone astray Im tied to time is another cliche you say when you just want to get away Playtime leisure time daytime nightime all this time that you are mine As sure as nightime follows day time is always ticking away
it's september now; the mornings are cooler than just a few days ago, the trees are curling their leaves upwards, and turning yellow towards life. one last kiss good-bye, what choice do they have? i remember when my roots were pulled, it's been cold since then and september had just begun, it's never about choices. the wind is whispering a song, like a mother's lullaby, and the leaves are falling like evening across the sky, red-orange bliss towards something they can't see happening, yet it always rains beyond the blue and i still taste it in that last kiss, cold as the days that are soon to come, soon the leaves will drop towards the ground pile up and become nothing but a memory several feet under winter's march then decompose into nothing more than stale air, yet, what choice do they have? (my mother died Sept first, many years ago and this time of year triggers much emotion)
Wreath of spiritual colors enriches visions of beauty. Beauty of life, love, faith, flow in charismatic style. Style with glory of simplicity us each day share. Sharing respect, with no distraction in daily life, Life that surrounds every leaf that adorns nature, Nature wrapped circle that envelops its gift. Gift of peace, goodwill, graced in silver bells, Bells ring of sounds of joy of New Year's beauty. Sponsor Dr.Ram Mehta Contest Name Christmas wreath
Alone I walk Amongst the maple So strong and weeping For so long they lay sleeping To awake to spring Blissful and singing To greet bird that are singing This time And procreate I elate Creatures arouse Along the ground and browse My senses enlightened To the seasons Heightened And bathe It shall upon the forest floor When vernal equinox opens its Door
water trinkles downstream as tinsel on a christmas tree
Speak to me in iambic pentameter and weave Shakespeare sonnets with Milton anecdotes. Read me riddles and rhymes divulged over uneaten dinners and swing-sets with broken chains. Allow me to lip-synch to your ballad of broken piano-fingers and I will lay next to you in the dew grass and smoke memories wrapped in Marlboros. Paint anagrams for me in the colors of raindrops and oil spills. Send moonlight messages in the austere silence of silhouettes and shadows puppeteered by flashing fingers and flickering wicks. Dance with me in the musky autumn aroma of crackling, symphonic leaves and I will smash angels into frozen oceans and lay breathless beneath you and a blanket of snow. Together we will dodge the juxtaposition of an angry bonfire affection, and let the consonants bound ahead of us as we lay beneath oak trees and dream of laughter. Lie to me in stanzas of forgotten rhyme schemes and fill my ears with cotton and Dr. Seuss until the syllables of make-believe words contort themselves into definitions. Play me a harmony of grace-notes that last as long as a hummingbird's heartbeat and drum me a cadence that filters up from the ground like dust-motes in sunlight. Allow me to lay 3/8ths of an inch from your embrace and feel the dove wing kiss of your pulse against my snow-cap knees. Permit me to take one last look at the collapsing stars above, to take in the startling brilliance of a beautiful thing that consumes itself, and I will be content to close my eyes forever and let you be my supernova. Allow me one more peek, one more snapshot of clairvoyance, and I will let your fingers tangle with my hair once more. I will let your ear rest upon my stereophonic heart and your hand to settle delicately on my concave waistline. I will permit your butterfly touch to read the Braille engraved in the crease of my elbow, and your quivering fingers to slide along the skin of my forearm, smooth as fiberglass. Chase me with arms wide open and a daunting smile on heavy-set lips. Fill me with sweet connotations and lullabies, and sweep the denotations from my grasp with gentle whispers and caresses. Allow me a glimpse of what is good, and true, and honest, and I will float forever without looking up and wondering why. Speak to me, dear, --together we will race to the ends of time, and find that nothing exists but the warm imprint left by two bodies in the dew grass.
Produced 50 yrs ago My master Pravin Pant Sr. Felt it was time for my Just Born coop to grow So he introduced me to some other chicks Bunnies bats cats pumpkins and Even thought of placing some lucky stars In for the heck of it what a day of cellabration Now he has flipped his lid once again and took a few friends back Had turned them into lip balms but I don't mind For they will stay forever fresh on my lips as I speak of them I been dropped off buildings had been steam rolled over And each time I bounced back with zest So please come rescue us from this crazy farmer Place me in a warm basket or cake or even a dressed table For I m just a little peep looking for somebody to love To The Peep In All Of Us LOL
she sends me news of bushfires with the rain falling, not falling, and the pain of the old man in the cold, biting hamarttan and the suspended feasts she speaks of births and deaths on village lanes sometimes like falling leaves at Harvestide with hope buried in palms the diviner himself is lost gazing at the sick hills painted with withered leaves of corn lightly, she speaks in blues and lists what is all lost except me, the Sun, rising behind the hills and on returning will kill Death in the dark side of Home I read the lines like rotten melons piled beside my door or like baskets filled with dried raisins sitting in my studio hoping if I could tell Courage to hide me in some banana leaves till I touch the tip of an Envelope from which drips Stardust like rain here where my life seems sweet and strange I read her wild excitement of a place where stars fall on laps and nightingales sing long I thought long of the broken years that don't change and my wailing lips touched the Cross I wish she knew how people live and never live at all in this part of the sea if she knew, maybe she will not tell me if she cries I folded the pages as I rise tipped the envelope from which drifts scraps of blues from home and there are dozens of such in my closet
Here they come. First flakes of that white snow Still stirs the child in me Melting flakes on my hand envelop me with nostalgia Still I get that smile on my face Still I start dreaming Still I feel warm at heart in that chilling cold Still I want to dance With those first flakes of snow.
Caravan, caravan, taking me where e're you can. A place to rest, relaxing, fun, whether in wind, storm, rain or sun. To go any where we want to roam, to take a break away from home. Be it inland, town, woods or sea; hills or vales, you'll shelter me.
i see it before me i have not stepped towards, nor walked along its direction it is clearly there for me to do so the decision can stray left or right of the way I go and all I know is that it starts before me
You didn't really say goodbye to me, As you, waving your hands and half-pouting, Barely even glanced at me, then left. At the time, who knew these moments were numbered? I swear I saw your complexion turn to a rustic sunset, As fall dawned on me, and realized that your winter is nearing, One did not know that you were a leaf, Nor did one expect that you would be leaving so soon. Leaving is what leaves do, and I now dread seeing you any more than I have to, All I can hope for is your goodbye; The fates are unkind if that is all there is for one to hope. They say leaves fall before it gets cold. Nay, it will grow colder upon your leaving, I still dream that you magically turn into a branch, or bark, or root, Or that at least, I too would be a leaf, and fall with you Unto this earth, as it prepares to dream its better dreams.
sun rays caught bedewed glint topaz, weeds of temperate light expanding promise-buds of summer joys, and almond blossom memories pass in favor of new life; should ever there be blessings in the air they are birthed from the warming spring breath of April and a charm of hummingbirds in a field of lupine
As the season's mist descends upon the coming harvest. The sweet smelling blossoms, consumed. The fruits, hung heavily on the vines, Sweet, savory. Emitting, a delightful fragrance. The powerful scents, clung, upon the mist, floating. As the shadow breaks, upon the wall, the arms of the sun embrace the seasonal face of mother nature. Unsurpassed by beauty, nurturing, this season's bountiful yield.
silky sunlight stirs the air then, falling supine with motion spills upon striking tips of oak clenched between bony fingers a passing vision of life, where lucid thoughts and passionate needs are found resurrected in a winter's day the graves of yellow daffodils lie beneath a blanket of fallen snow inspiring faith in tomorrow
THE FORCE OF PASSION It's Apparent-- bracing exhilarating pure as the mountain air that leaps into my starving lungs That Passion-- as ripe as Autumn Fireweed that Blazes Seared Eyes & Bravo Brain of even the most cautious and reluctant Grizzly Passion North Wind Driven--- Will not go foolishly unheeded.
They bloom as buds, The young and expectant bursting with the life of spring. Winter-bones, stiff with frost, Unravel the icicle wire; Release the spry exuberance of Underground bulbs of self: Heart, mind, chakra points--rise, Rise to greet the thaw!
Seasons Without Sunlight The skies are so dark Clouds block out the heavens Day appears to be night As the sun races past The moon goes through its phases Unseen and unnoticed The darkness continues Week after week Month after month The clouds drift by A solid mass Changing but always there The coolness of autumn The coldness of winter Seasons without sunlight
After the rain, the sun on grass and lane, delivering faceward aromas that could belong only to summer. Sometimes, in later months, we would pretend December's rain was July's as we gazed through steam-beaded glass, the crackling fire behind us, saying little, hardly need of words. We would imagine we smelled the grass, anointed with the gentle summer spray, its beneficent caress, so light of touch, like a lover's fingertips brushing cherished flesh. The crackling fire before us now, we sit, say little, so few words to say, each recalling how, long ago, we could turn winter into summer.
A seasonal malaise plasters stray tendrils of wayward thought. Another dreary gray day hovers. Vacant is the sky, as empty as the surface of an unwritten page. On days such as these the mind strays through the attic's dusty remnants. Times freezes mid tick. Stale…and salt less..simpering day, humming to the background noise of distant stars. Age has brought with it a leathery sensation, as crusty, picked over bundles of brashness failing to ignite the fires of laggard thought. Severing the ties, the starched cotton strings of apron which held the crumbs of motherhood, hopefully, causes a rising of, if not a phoenix... perhaps, a cardinal of a different Spring. Juices from a dry well, well, perhaps not dry? Crisp, precise, if unpunctual, cookie fortunes flutter upward, on curled strips of sugar coated white. Who is to say, who is to be, the center the jam in the depressed hollow of my life? Let the mind soar for a settlement of glee. Let it roar for the loss of flexibility and trumpet a coming of age so rare… for it is not madness which hovers in the grey of dawn, or the wet bleak day, but, the elegant solace of silver strands their tendrils spreading unhindered cuddled among the cue, not vacant at all. Waiting…waiting to breathe.
Another summers day They all came out to play Skirt a swaying Bodies glistening Fertile fields of exuberance And with every chirpy call And a shriek shrill Came a muffled reply And I say it's Summers day How did it get so hazy How did it get so high I smelt it in the air I saw it in the mist Leisurely strolls and lovers trysts The birds charming the trees The nectar inviting the bees As I recline in padded pastures Feeling the beats of earths drum In timely rhythms of an accompanying heat Listening to salient echoes of pattering feet The fragrant air do I greet And as the sun smile does recede An encore from its pursuing friend Rises a cosmic of the east Enticing a good nights sleep First a half smile ,then a glint But in dutiful pursuit it rises Then atop in glory, its beauty shun Nocturne among shadowy masks To traverse in pursuit of a lost cause A sojourn in timeless tasks Homage to mother natures call A humble servant , you may say But a hero I may recall
Grass clings to our arms, And sweat-lines of dirt, Nestle in the folds of our necks. The sun beats down on crew-cut heads, And bare feet are cooled, In the tub that waters the cows. Our playground of trees and fields, Unchanged since we arrived, Makes summer's end unthinkable. Then comes the morning when all is packed, And a cloud of dust masks a last view of paradise, Once visible through the car's rear window. Moving from road to highway, Greens fade to gray, And pastures and trees yield to asphalt and cement. Bricks and mortar replace wood and nails, As cookie-cutter buildings, Blot out the sun. Our arms sense a chill, As the shadows grow long, And without fanfare, it is fall.
What does a garden feel A flower feel A bud feel A seed feel When the beholder Goes missing who can it complain? Except the Lord. Yet the feeling of Loneliness remains Till the first step sounds Till the first eyes meet Till the first breath taken Till the first smile spread Till the first joy breaks out Till the garden echoes with sounds
Lush green growth Life surrounds me Soft white blossoms Of the wild rose bush. Right outside my window. My snowflakes in May
Spring how wonderful for alas it is here Birds fly all around making good cheer My lover sits close to me and whispers in my ear "I love you my dear" Summer how splendid the pool parties began and all the kids hope it will never end And then my lover comes to me and looks me in my eyes with sincerity and says "I'll always love you my darling" Fall has it all as the wind calls to the trees as their leaves fall and turn colors from what use to be green As far as my eyes can see they cover the ground I look for my lover but he can not be found I call for him but he does not reply Perhaps I will see him another time Winter sets in followed by cold icy winds It blows poor trees which are now dead and bare The sky has turned gray and the flowers have gone away and now I see snow But where my lover is I still do not know The snow touches my skin with soft icy pains of sadness With a broken heart comes many things anything but gladness Weeks go by but it is not yet spring The snow has all melted and dead grass is all I see Then I look into the distances for something has caught my eye "Oh My!" I cry it is my lover I see I run to him and grab him joyfully But that joy was short lived as he pushes me away With his face like a storm he says "I don't love you anymore" Like seasons people also do change I know this now as I slowly turn and walk away....
Blinded by low winter sun that rakes the icy field. I shield my eyes and view each furrowed rut cut stark in sharp relief; each new line so dark. I peer as dazzling light lifts thinning mist from ribs of frozen mud and see each furrow's crest capped with silver dust. Like sea-spray in the morning light waves furrowed white. Foam flecks the breeze as blossom flecks the trees. Spring is on it's way but will not stay. Summer sun is high and in the sky swallows gather, then depart. Rain clouds loom. Though spring has not yet begun. I'm blinded by low winter sun.
Nights in May are so seductive, they make you wait for hours in that glorious stage light from the west, before they deign to rise onto the stage of the quite brief performance of their artistry. Their breath is balmy, laden with that blend of all the fragrances they steal from blossoms, which coquettishly they wear like laces fastened round some young girl's thighs. In May the nights flirtatiously wink at you with sparks they like to borrow from the stars, they expertly employ the moon to highlight the smooth shapes of budding lush fertility. They cradle you in night-blue arms arousing wishes rather than lulling you to sleep, till from the east pale heralds will approach to make them organize their exit accompanied by the birds' symphony.
A red, orange, brown fuss in autumn once more as fog comes upon us Halloween ghouls to the door The trees turning yellows rains tumult and pour thunder bellows, winds blow cold with a roar and puddles they widen until they're almost a lake then out we need go for the leaves we must rake So we dig out our gloves and we wrap round our scarfs Then we shop for our loves, friends and then some other halves For Christmas approaches but fireworks come first as Guy Fawkes encroaches kids pennies do thirst Then it's time for the lights as the children do sing And Santa's nearly in sight while the church bells do ring Then Jesus Christ's birth we will try to remember the meaning of 'worth' on 25th of December.
whispering dreams a beautiful love dances in anticipation a soft elegant breeze began to blow into the room I could see the hills climbing into the heavens as I gazed out my window the door to my room slowly creped opened she floated into the room as beautiful as an angel in flight she turned to me and said dim the lights my love light a candle of purity, a candle of two becoming one only the candle light lit her face, stunning and graceful she came close to me a loving embrace passion............ I held her through the long summer night I caressed her brown soft skin I touched her lips of silk our bodies together in endless love a night that still lives on in beauty a love that has endured through each storm my sweet bride my sweet love a life together divine.......
The young oak in the backyard has donned his yellow before all the others flaunting flirting struttin' his STUFF lookin' SOOOO GOOD!... ...and the elders are smiling taking their time having spent enough in the space between breaths to realize to recognize that to live is to die smiling oneness smiling sameness... Autumn... ...is an exhale.
Glistening skin, Rays beating me from pale to bronze, Slathering sun serum to push away, Every beaming UV ray, Rising earlier to start my day, Bumblebees, Humble me, Find bliss by water, Cruise from music to music, Shower me with the beats, Summertime is how we live.
By dusk, the day will take its toll I unwind with my daily stroll And every day my eyes behold A tree, upon a mound. I see his life how he would see We keep eachother company Together, just my tree and me And noone else around. We laugh and sing and dance and play And quickly waste the sun away And soon its light that lights the day Is nowhere to be found. And now it seems I cannot see I'm stuck here, fading, with my tree Embraced, my mind becomes the leaves My soul becomes the ground.
What best friends hand in hand you walk existing together through time, never separated for reasons do seasons exist Not always expected but you show up anyway, with each ticking of the clock am assured you're still there only to show up at the right time seasons are for reasons reasons for seasons never defined Time comes and goes tears fall, pain laughter, glory and shame exist expectations are fulfilled or denied all in it's seasons for it's reasons You wait for no one never delayed, never hastened nothing holds you back not even fear you are indeed the season that exist for your own reason making all things beautiful in it's season for it's reason
Winters gone Winters gone April show brings May Flowers for June weddings. Winters gone The robin sings His spring song. Winters gone The children play. For school will soon end. No more snow So winter s gone.
Bulging nests of humid Gray are closing in on shining patches of a distant white pushing brightness forward on the windswept highways of the skies: let Spring come round to breed the light!
Don't put away your winter wardrobe, it's still chilly and you need a coat; tornados are devastaing the Midwest, and snow can only make it worse... who dares not say," Isn't March a mad month? " It felt almost springtime when temperatures rose as high as fifty eight degrees yesterday, and that was late February, but March is whimful and anything can happen over twenty four hours... buds on branches would love to sprout and bloom! Don't catch a cold by wearing a tee shirt and shorts, the changeable weather may fool you and you will get sick... so wear a warm jacket, hat, gloves and insulated booths; if rains falls, it'll be icy and cold can seep into your bones... why not endure a little longer and say, " Isn't March a mad month?"
She studied her shoes for ages, laces frayed from her obvious clumsiness He touched her arm, lightly, as tornadoes settled themselves and memories fought the weather, her hair, it seemed, was nappier on Tuesdays, and he tousled her when she woke up. "Please" was always spoken too lightly, she fell inside herself with the familiarity of requests and apologized for winter's mess, she shook her head, her eyes always fell on Tuesdays, and sighed, for how is tragedy pretty? He snapped pictures for their calendars, she pasted them above dates and message boards on smudged kitchen walls, she fell in love with the deterioration of paper and decided hate would fit him better, the stacked boxes above her refrigerator sang out lonliness and the letters that wrote out their connection on Friday nights spoke now of neglect. She walked through hallways, lit dimly by apple cinnamon scented candles, and watched her shadow lead her though silent rooms, her fingers slid across the cracks that had become the voices of abused dishes and anger, in January, when Tuesday's sun rose too cold, when Friday nights made her shiver and the sweaters he laid upon her shoulders became threadbare, for this was neglect weaved in between with the threads of spoken love. Day breaks in the middle of thought sometimes, as silence breaks with breathing, and there was a reminder at twelve twenty seven a.m. that he was there and dreaming, that she was useless, save for the hair that tickled her cheeks when they became rosy from the wind that stung her alabaster skin on Friday nights in January and she tied her shoes, certain that the laces would soak in puddles of melting ice, walked through doorways as her shadow followed her to the portrait of hope where alone wasn't signified by the beating hearts that forgot to love on Tuesdays.
(Family and Friendships Formed Of His Love) The gift I have to share; cannot fit beneath your Christmas tree-- I come to you in the spirit of Love, bearing a gift of friendship true, In remembrance of Our Lord and Saviour above I extend a sisterly hand in fellowship to you -- through faith, I ask Our Lord to lift you up and grant your every need Come all ye faithful ~ sing the holy praises Saintly men and women, as even the angels do… Oh sinner man, I hope for your redemption too -- While praying and joyfully praising GOD As He allows us to freely do ~ The Beloved Peace of the Messiah be with all of you May his Holy Spirit be felt in the hearts of all, so true~ Let the saving Grace of Christmas be remembered every day For its the precious gift of GOD above, granted to me and you~ Let's share this gift of Christmas, as our Lord would have us to do…
The season's first snowflakes fell briefly, for a moment. They did not dwell. The sky had brightened. Sun shone on bitter cold. Then they appeared, Slowly drifting, Teasingly, to the ground. The season's first snowflakes fell.
We welcome unexpected winter births In this cold country: A new warmth Delivered in our midst. So far a-field we are, no home or hearth, Our lives and this somehow entwined, His investment in future's salvation Safe within this small skin. Awakened in darkness, eyes straining to See the faces of the desperate, hopeless Strangers aching for a glimpse of promise. Sleep now, precious gift, and do not Dream of tomorrow's tomorrow. Love's labor Will stay the bitter Easter for this Christmas child. For a while.
The background; No matter how artificiality conquers, The background, shall remain. City lights snatch the soothing darkness of night away, However, The background, shall remain. Cars, smoke, pollution, whatnot; Bury the sky, unreachable, One thing, however, remains untouched, The background, shall remain. Now matter how much civilization tries to get rid of it, God's handiwork; inked, invulnerable, The background, shall remain. As Earth shall ascend its grave, The epitaph shall remain, The background, shall remain.
We are called into A real stretch of loneliness Time unravels As I know myself Standing apart from you And our dangling hopes Raw nerves busted Our throats bigger Than what we could claim So again rearranged The old titans of foe No longer will I stride alone in cities creep Life beams in dirt and trees The vast unknown stretches forever
Yes, I remember… I've a sonnet of us, rhyming silently, across the vast blue sky in waiting, eagerly for sweet November rain. We knew, we both have the need to feel what's good to be touched… the truth was, by the way, I enjoyed the beat. We danced, whilst the noon birds warbled, with unchained melodies, as the passing wind gently rippled the field's golden hair, till we settled, ourselves, into a naked ritual, exaggerating much the vers libre it was leading us, before finally, we wrestled the night, with an adieu kiss. Yes, I remember… I've a sonnet of us, for sweet November rain to cleanse and freshen the wrinkles we left on a golden field, of tares, …for its next transients!
Gray. Bathed in eternal twilight the city sleeps, While the fangs of a restless wind Hounds it four corners. Mists of breath rise, From the one who walks - Through the eerie shroud Of padded footsteps and ticking time. Gray - Looming from the stillness Engulfing the light. As the Sun battles for its place In the pinnacle of mankind's vision. Silence. Louder.. Louder than any sound Kissing mortal ears Defying life. And still he walks In solitude. In gray.
Looking out my window when the air is cold and brisk I see the sun is shining and my heart is filled with bliss Knowing that in this beauty nothing can go amiss The snow is new and glistneng in it's white and untouched glory Waiting for children to come and play, making their own happy story As I watch new snow falls and there is magic in the air I feel the elation of everyone that is there Creating a snow man with spagetii for hair Soon they'll come inside, cold and dripping wet The children, they are all as happy as they can get I await their smiling faces inside by the fire With hot chocolate and listening to Cristmas songs sung by a chior Jacque Graham 11/1/11
" Frozen Seeds In The Dead of Winter ... " (Eccl. 3: 2) Let Me Die On The Cold Forest Floor In The Glittering Dead of Winter Let Me Not Cry At Its Freeze-To-Death-Core As I Lay In Its Rigid Center And Open and Close The 'Rest In Peace' Door and Bid Dark Oblivion Enter Leave Me Exposed Where Only Blind Blizzards Snore In The Harsh-Hush of Howling Censure Take Me Deep So An Avalanche Stores My Frost-Mist and Ice-Block Sculpture Where I Shall Sleep As Heavy Snow and Sleet - - Pour In This Glacial, Slumbering Adventure Blanket Me, Goodbye Where The Cold Ground Bore The Last Seed of My Life To Endure Wintry Sky Sinks To Take Me Where Before I Touched This Frigid Temperature Now, Let Me Die On Cold Forest Floor, I Adore In Its Glittering Dead of Winter ... A Grave Season Fixture Written & Copyrighted ©: 1/7/2014 by: MoonBee Canady
Nothing makes one forget the stillness of a warm noon more than that memorable stroll with our sweetheart as butterflies gently flutter over us to be admired, making us remember the tender beauty that spring was. Everything around us emanates joy, harmony is seen everywhere in this forest, but peace isn't the only thing the traveler seeks, and surely bluejays can arise much curiosity with their songs that sound good to the ear. Walk with us on flowery paths, say hello to the timid squirrels with long, patchy tails; rosemary bushes are fragrantly sweet... to remind all the tender beauty that spring was.
If you reach the gate before I do, ask if you can bring a friend; for eternity lasts a lifetime, until you reach the end. God himself can't cease the clock that sounds our beloved chime. Acute sublime; an epic rhyme, perpetual adieu. For You.
Hey there big sky, is that your beam spooning warmth to my heart? She's making shadows again and it's all cozy inside. I'd like to photograph this moment with my eyes so everything will be bright then when night falls I won't trip over it's many hands. Only the blind stumble into lies, but not me/you anymore together we resemble truth on a hot summer day. Blackbirds don't seem to notice our new philosophy at all, nor do the trees sway back and forth to windless melody, but those squirrels staring mindlessly at your golden figure are planning to steal my nuts Please compose them! Yours truly, Sombre
We trek a snow-filled walkway birthing shadows, late the day. The barren limbs of trees enfold, snow falls and night betray. Alive this chill and wintry night to see our breath's display. Broad flakes and lights mark well each step and lead where warmth holds sway. Snowy Walk 1-20-15
I remember a place with a heart concrete that lived and breathed the night. It was a place that glowed pulsed in time with the pounding of the night's workmen, stewed in the warm, wet flood of autumn streetlight walks past stoops that lined the blackened stretch of tar sneakers and scarves so cool that they melted and smoked at the touch And from your window, you could see it all; you could see the birds and the beetles contented in their coats of cold, And you could see me stop every evening at the foot of your door and tip my hat to the wind that blew like lips to horn. Your window was a gateway to a place too good to live, too good to believe in, too good to taste and smell and touch when the sun was up and shining, for everything that happened happened at night, when the pipes lit up and the children's shoe-soles sounded loud and echoed proud through the alleyways, and the TV sets ceased their roaring for a moment long enough to keep the hopscotchers on their canvas-clad toes, and the radio merely tickled the air with notes of a blue deeper and truer than the vastest, most empty starless sky... And spilled on the sidewalk-chalked walls of brick and young love was a moon, a moon whose dusty, yellow glow was all that we thrived in all that we loved and hated and wished and kissed in, all that we sang and shouted and drank and pissed in, and all of us missed it when the hours on the clocks of dark dried up, leaving us with little more than empty gazes, empty bottles and empty beds, empty arms and empty heads, promises broken, desires unfulfilled, but with sweetest day dreams of the night to come.
Here in the Sun, Spring is receding Winter is born in me Your witchcraft besets me The cold glazes my eyes The green glares white The clouds are cemented There we are again Longing for the equinox of our intentions Pull me forward from this Push me back into us Divide me from this discontent Shake this frost Warm my bones with a September smile
The world is based on the four elements; Earth, Wind, Eater and Fire They have given us water to drink Wind to breathe Earth to keep us warm Earth to keep us afloat, But, we have misused them and now we have angered them They havr risen and they will bring detsruction down on us Water brings raging floods Earth causes earthquakes Wind uses hurricanes to blow us away and Fire brings down lightning on us You want this to stop, You want this to end They have warned you They are merciless The elements will destroy all life and create new life.
Missile in all the world; Occupy the sky, stream out steam out the back and don't apologize don't recycle don't waste time don't feel anything but the fuel in your guts *hiss*
me in December is missing. i am found at all other times of the year but right now...everything is severing coming apart in little pieces falling to the floor. shattering i am deaf to it. you are smiling, buying, giggling...drinking singing contemplative i sit watching...waiting, just waiting green red, red green...snow topped mountains it means nothing...when you cant feel it that false warm excited feeling that comes with the holiday. it means nothing to those who cannot hear the music coming from your heart. it means nothing to someone who is looking for more then it is meant. me in December is in mourning i am missing...
Tristesse Do you remember hazy days in Paris? Mornings painted with rain delicious sunshine dancing on wet streets like warm tears washed away now with your reflection in the quiet certainty of a June morning
What colour is your blues For it always fails to reach our spring Adams abreach And Eve's the moment Our gardens sing If the stars don't reach for you At least the sun will greet you Provides the light that allows smiles to blossum Illuminates the soil that greens your pigment clean And on to June Bugs you remain unseen Did you finally settle that dust that rose With the winters you miss I grow It left you at a spring time breaze Did you roll up your sleeves, fall to your knees draked in the soil from which cotton seeds Did you prick your skin and bleed Did you lie in a petal of roses and read as you gazed upon a sky that refused to die Did you wish for the frost To touch the wind and fall subordinate to the cause And as April died You realized how much you hated The fact that summer was over rated Yea as April died You thought about how much you hated The fact that summer was over rated "songs of a blank season"
Darkness ended, Winter released her icy grip; budding crystals soon began to drip. The Earth then tendered, its surface filled with life; Spring now wed to Summer, the radiant rays piercing the frozen skies. But Beauty gives way to Destruction and forests turn to tinder. Here lies the crossroads, an Ode to Birth and Death. A flower that slowly bloomed left stranded now in late Spring, scorched by Summer's rays, but oh its beauty still remains. It lives on desolate ground. A mind unfolded, it's heart retouched. And at last outlasted a depression that once did rule. And you the fair Demise, how will you compromise? When we together win the prize. Flailing futilely in a sea of lies; the Fountain of Youth was found, its waters tainted. Perhaps it's best not to toy with Life and Death. The Seasons unwillingly shifting, the Sun now in full bloom, and the flower starts to wilt; Beautiful, as death begins to set, while Summer touched the Earth. Petals fall away like tear drops on the skin, and light penetrates in a wonderful array. Ever growing heat, now begins to drain them of life, while petals turned to dust, carried away in gusts. Together fertilized, yet unaware, it only dares to bring about despair. Death gives back again to Life; an early end to a late start. A new beginning comes from dust and decay, as the Summer sun now fades away. The burning skies teaming with gray. Death takes a new form; white, blinding, crushing and consuming. Oh but gorgeous it remains, In time, life grows again, Coming from the wastes of a flower that late bloomed.Yet life anew begins too soon. In Winter's last grasp, her touch did drain, when frozen ashes did remain; Here is life's penultimate breath, the greatest Ode to Birth and Death.
the story's spoke the songs she wrote the long walks up the stairway "I think i'll wear flair today" Nothing really matters today The storms she loved The love she stormed Swarm the days alarm you were mint, i was orange I meant I enjoyed the way we formed Admittedly we were children of porn Late night fiilms and corn an appetite for the born slowly, calm down go so slow now You were a sunrise I was a frown It was sunset where do we go now There was a time we unraveled with sand When life resembled a portion of gravel at hand charm was something you endured but i didn't have "to be," was something you'd taste But i couldn't grasp so now it's back to old pen and pad You were a dear old lad Spinely, unwinding Down Here before Must we visit once more storms now surround saturn as they did when we were around that pattern Venus peers from a distance My hair extends but theres just something about wisdom No ones going home A song for the known No ones going home just a disarray of a promise never shown
Leaves of gold, red and yellow Dance to the ground to a tune oh so mellow Silent footsteps of a lonely lover's grief Trudges through the foliage that lady autumn herself conceive A desolate sparrow that's gone astray Returns to its nest now bare and gray Soon the land will turn ashen and cold As it was before in days of old But through all this you could hear The laughter of children, full of cheer It is not long till Demeter's lovely flower to her restore The flower that brought the wild winter wind, to awake and roar Soon the lonely lover will find a better day Soon the lost sparrow will be on his way Soon love shall fill the air and the earth will bloom Restoring to its grace what winter has once doomed
( continued from September's Child Part one) But Autumn does not love Winter Autumn yearns for Spring But Spring with her bubbling laughter It is Summer she chases after Hurt and disgusted Autumn becomes A season of depression for his love rejected His leaves of orange, red and gold Turn to a decaying brown. He tries in vain to change To conquer Winter Yes if this he could do Then Spring will he be with But Winter strong, her winds they blow She buries him with blizzards of snow. September's Child A love he has lost September's Child Alone and tormented Spring she will not have him Summer shines him by Winter she does control him Autumn the season when love dies. September's Child through he breathes The breath of life Deep inside he has died For a love he can not have. Came September I looked up at the trees Red, orange , gold were her leaves I plucked a few from her arms And kept them in a paper sack of brown. And I released them into the wind That Spring.
Hand-me-down myths, like ancient monoliths, clan's fondest memories by nostalgia embellished; larger-than-life sagas, truer-than-truth legends, hyperbolic narrations of happy exaggerations; that's ancestral history, coloring one's genealogy, seeping, coursing down bloodlines, tribal milestones, its gravitational whirl stirs generations' imagination, east, west, north, south through word of mouth!
In my World of Yuletide Contentment, My mind wanders and loses sight of all current memory. I lay back flat while flying through the full fresh air of aged time Thinking of Christmases long preserved for the purpose of Personal Therapy. All the time the buttons dissipate. Every moment the touch screens recreate. Wishes become emotional rescues. Genuine laughter magically appears at its most grand and best cue. As I sit in a little corner avoiding the typical kisses from the limelight, I consume myself under the Mystical Mistletoe of Imagery and let it all kiss my blissless blues away. The light festivals in my mind inspire candy cane smiles too sweet and spicy to ignore. Then she comes….so Peaceful in her bathrobe of Serenity. She teases me to teardrops that fall like a pebble toad escaping a predator. Everything seems so Retro Better. All darkness' nucleuses are drained with the warm ignition of a Love long deferred. Now when I express joy, she adds decorative ornamentations of Sassafras Sunshine. Resurrected Tradition is the warm cocoa for my tinged soul. I begin to Remember Me when Bountiful Flavors of Zest were freely skinny dipping from the Spirit within me. I am blind to modernization's sleeperhold cutting off the oxygen and blood supply to my personal effervescence. Newly Inspired, I begin to celebrate. However, just as soon as the festivities start, The alarm of reality rains down on my snow angel creation. A new, but routine, poetic emotion in motion clocks in and begins to construct. Nevertheless, what remains is the buttercream taste of Her Saving Grace. She leaves with me a Recipe of Merriment for next year. Inspired, I refuel….exponentially excited in Wait….
Nocturne of The Orient I woke upon a winter's morn, To find that summer had long gone. And simpler games of summer days Have turned to chess--where I'm a pawn. I feel my heart where it was torn-- As sharp of edge as with a knife-- And know that I have lost the ways That sheltered me from winter's strife. And where were you my summer song? When I awoke no more to hear Your graceful melody of care Float gently 'round and fill my ear With essence, pure! Still lingered long, Your heartfelt tune of life and loss-- To close my eyes would see you there; An ancient soul of yin* and joss.** Though shorn from life, my sweetest dreams Still come to me when dusk brings sleep. That little death that brings release, While still I slumber dark and deep, And rends my night upon its seams, When wondrous sights I do behold-- That bring at last my soul some peace, And chase out much of winter's cold. © Copyright 2013 Shawn H. Hall - All Rights Reserved *yin - the feminine passive principle in nature that in Chinese cosmology is exhibited in darkness, cold, or wetness and that combines with yang to produce all that comes to be. Hence, yin=Femininity, and yang=masculinity. **joss - a Chinese idol (or roughly, a deity). AKA, Spirituality Thus, an ancient soul of femininity and spirituality.
The snow is falling ever so gently Like diamonds if they should fall from the sky The street lights showcase the downfall All is quiet as the beauty enfolds The snow is falling ever so heavier Against the window pane as I gaze through There is no rain tonight in our tropical climate Snow for Christmas in our small part of the world The snow is falling at greater speed The wind is blowing the snow into a frenzy The temperature is dropping as the moments past A blizzard for Christmas it appears to be The snow is falling but I can no longer see Nothing but a white blur out in the world But still I hold something close to my heart For I had asked for a miracle tonight Snow for Christmas in my tropical world
Spring's here. Birds sing as they flutter. Honey drips from the sky. Plants explode like champagne. Sun penetrates my soul. It runs like a river through my veins. Flushing out the winter frost. Barbecues drift through mossy fences. Invisible pleasure sifts past me. Time slows down, practicing for summer.
The moist air come around once more to start the new life of nature to be sure spring showers that cleanses our world. The snow melts to a degree for it is time to see a world of wonders for everyone that needs a spring showers to be free. The ground gets all soft for things to grow to be part of this emotional adaptation is how we should know. The binds of winter goes away to be come a new season to portray a wonder of colors and beauty. The moment has come to use your umbrellas in many ways can block the showers that might drizzle on us to ruin our day. Spring Showers Contest March 25 2013
poetry is love like a summer rain watering my soul in a dry land making metaphors grow and caress the mountaintops with laughter inner beauty coming to light on the printed page lighting the dark places of my life with revelation changing rhythms with peaks of distinction carrying away all of my worries one word at a time… (c) 2011 PoetryofMotion! All Rights Reserved
Life of the Grasshopper The birds are flying south for winter The chipmunks have squirreled away a stash The ants have slaved all summer to survive But another season still holds death The grasshopper has no pretenses It lives its days But lives in the moment Then dies Just like everything else The grasshopper had a lot of life in its year The bird, the chipmunk, and the ant all had a lot of years in their life All used up working to delay the inevitable Looking, but never seeing a silent, still moment A dandelion trying to catch the wind A ripple racing on a stream A cloud cartwheeling across the sky A forest reaching for the sun Perfection They're too busy to find peace Holding too tight to find release Mocking the grasshopper's wisdom Resenting it for its life of freedom And its peace with death
There is a stillness in the cold When everything sets into a deep freeze And the clouds cast a red glow The snow on the ground reflects But it doesn't speak It only covers what has already been The stars seem to shine brighter Piercing through another passing night They're light millions of miles away And thousands of years ago Can we comprehend what we cannot see And can we understand what we have? As one mystery unravels Another becomes more tightly wound And yet still winter passes As some are lost And others are found
I wonder why that one leaf clings lone and wind-tattered to the weathered old oak; held firm between gnarled fingers long after the others have given in to spiral dance in bravery to the ground below Is there hope, a promise made between leaf and tree of something greater yet to come, or is it reluctance to let go, even fear that inspires such hesitation? I have been more and less like the second leaf, than the first (though I would dearly love to know what it waits for) I lack the patience for hanging around so I let go into the arms of fate never to know whether I will fall or be caught until I have arrived
Snowy, glistening mountains Playing hide and seek with clouds Air smelling of that fresh first snowfall Chilly air with a rejuvenating essence All of us huddled together in warm corners Winter is yet here again, in full bloom..
Water lapping against golden shores as kites fly in the azure skies attached to children who go running dogs frolic in and out of the water chasing sticks and shaking themselves into a dry state of being... summer blasts it's way past spring and flies headlong into autumn staying for a short time to tan the bodies of those who bask in the molten rays of sunshine I am loving this summer as it calls me forth to play I dust of my bicycle and that's all I need to say
Yellow and orange Consume the wonderful fall For this little girl Fall is when she falls in love She rises with the spring She is at her peak in the summer But she cannot keep strong All Year long So she falls when the leaves fall She is in love now Fighting for this one boy Giving him all she's got She finally hits rock bottom In the winter He breaks her heart Shatters her so She only remains that way though For a short while Because with spring comes relief With summer comes strength After that her story starts again
Tiger lilies decorate an altar of promise; Cherry blossoms and leaves of soft, green satin Unfold, and winter quietly smiles and bids Auf Weidersen... For now... As he willingly pushes aside his brilliant white Curtain, accepting the rhythm of God's plan, Understanding that goodbye, In all her intensity, Doesn't mean... Forever.
The winter fae have come to call, Leaving snow where they go, As dreams of spring were in our minds, Frosty sprites said think again, And visions of laughter lit the night. Form: Pentastich
Communication is association Let the garden of thought flow Great strides are made in venting Simply voicing images, passion grows Dreams situate themselves unknown Independently arising, mirages blow The floating energy grows titanic Ambition unleashed in heat Soon leading to decisive action Even in our cardboard world Mummies of memories spring to life A verdant pulse is culled
Leaves soggy drowned on path abandoned by walkers, joggers, bikers, boarders, lovers, mothers with baby carriages, lost soul wanderers, others. Abandoned earth musty buried in compost's organic decay splashes of mildewy moldiness earthworms over-watered wilting on bed of black lettuce croutons for birds that wearily snuzzle in treetops with shiver blankies toe to beak. Squirrels inspect nuts for cracks against weather neighborhood shock follows new season inundation belly growling loudly and shouting dark, damp, cold hints of end
Walking slowly along the beach,November's wind is cold, As is the water, I run from the pearly waves drawing towards for my dry feet, Reaching my eyes,where as to follow,reminds me of where I used to go, Watching the brilliant colors of the crisp clear sunset, Casting the greatest gleam across the sky,lit as if an arch-less rainbow, Fading Emerald Green flashing brightly before dark sets in, The early full moon's reflection is as far as I can see Reaching out to me ,across the ocean waves,I become in a trance, All dreams ,even ones that come true,must be awakened each time after another, I turn with a teardrop, as I face the my world ,back into the race I descend, The moon and walking on the ocean waves, is all that I live for, I carry sand in my shoes to remind me of you.
Animals and birds enjoy no seasons, In summer, In winter, In hot and shower, Tribes wearing leaves, Hot summers releasing me from coats, Cold winters keeping me inside the coats, Why?
She said " With you I wonder what life would be like" Its OK its awright this girls a champs maskot Love, pain, passports, sex, drugs, fast forward Money stacked up, anything you ask for I supply the passion all night therefore You're messing with a real friend thats right Running circles around his ass all night And I might be carrying heavy metal and my speakers be blaring this The A Team i camoflauge my pain Assassins double agents keep it Classified The cameras at the red light see you in your bra right by my side I'm in the city after nightfall see the lights I never cast my pearl before swine Shooting stars , stars fall, battle scars and glass hearts I never break I just wanna jump your bones Toss your head back laugh loud Wheigh the pros and cons baby I'm still calm Put it in park and turn up your sexdrive She said " baby I been bad to you" He said " baby I Never made love but I promise to be good to you though"
Crystal white dew crunches underfoot ... late winter late spring freezing air in April what will summer bring? Old folks always talk about the weather ... the rain now masking the daily fear of death. Its getting closer permeating consciousness with its insidious reality. Yes, what will summer bring and will I survive another winter is how the mind begins to tally the sand as it flows through the hour glass crystal white.
From the morning twilight, the sun rises too highlight, a beginning of earthly birthright, and set about the day, The light, shining firsthand, shimmers across the land, as night feels its strife, light's behemence to life. The morning dew, who once condensed, decamps into air, as incalescense prospers. A light breeze jostles, a branch in season dormant, life passionately waiting, this cold season's debarment.
Tracks lead down a dusty memory lane adorned with trails of dreams I've left behind Balmy vapours rise, sweetly intertwined with the surreal patchwork of gold and shade soft beauty of morning light gilds the fragrant blooms, cascading down, in a vision of springtime splendor
One day, watching a reddened evening sky over the western horizon, it's peculiar though, a thought that is so preposterous suddenly came to my mind and that was the earth is not revolving. Is it because the world was too quiet? Or the world was too chaotic. Once this absurd thought ran through my mind, neither of those great names, Copernicus nor Galileo bore weight on me and their heliocentric theory faded away as well. The papal absolution bestowed on Galileo after four century's long years of silence, to me, was not only the meaningless gesture of such an arrogant God's institution but was the subversion of God's majestic power or it means that God was ousted from his throne and became subservient to his own creature, man. After all, it can be said that then, it was not because the earth revolved on its own axis, time flowed, or the earth orbited the sun, seasons changed. But because I think time flows, the time flows. I feel seasons change, the seasons change. For my wildest notion came to this far I felt uneasy inside. I wanted to hear sound of passing clouds, I was keen on seeing winds pile up under my feet, in this utter stand-still-soundless world. That is why I thought I should spin earth with all my strength, though I was weak and flabby. I pushed earth leaning myself against air, I pulled it, I tried to carry it on my back, but, alas, earth did not move. I was, therefore, all run down, and that's why I laid on the ground staring at the sky and grumbled just like that cowardly Galileo muttered while exiting from a sacred and inviolable court of the Inquisition after his recantation, "E pur si mouve"—[But it does not move!] As I grumbled, I heard the sound of drifting clouds, I saw flowing water resting on the corolla becoming clear dew, I was stepping on the pile of fallen leaves blown by the passing winds. And even, before I was aware of them, I noticed that stars were twinkling in the darkening sky high above.
Love must be so pliant , like a blade of grass, Bowing to the wind, till the storm has passed. Love is enigmatic Like the sphinx's smile. Waiting for an answer, Nothing is on file. Love is often near us Yet we do not see. Sometimes where we are Is just the place to be
Glittering snow-covered morning with a cold, crisp feeling of expectancy pours new meaning to the blue light of dawn. The beauty and warmth of summer is but a memory of times when nature cared; feelings were intense and creation's colors were a palate of lush intensity, a moment in nature's eternity' when she displays her capabilities. The challenge of winter dares one to fight for existence, discover one's ability to survive in a moment of confusion and cold, whether crossing a moor or skiing the Alps.
In the hands Of mother nature Summer shines In the heat Blossoms bloom beautiful From a bouquet of every colour The sun relinquishes Her throne to night Falls in leaves Golden in celebration Petals whither Die in her honour The fruit her summer bounty Awaiting the arrival To feel In the harsh coldness A chill in the bones Falling to winter In the beginning Spring awakens snowdrops Kissed by the sun Smiling new beginnings In the sound of music Song birds sing As the cock crows welcoming the sun Sings to the light in joy of life
Temperatures constantly drop, the first chill stroke my unknown sense, that sense which causes depression: when winter knocks once as luck does to state its indisputable intention.... who looks forward to seeing snow? Children like snow and some adults do also, but thinking of how cold it will get, most of us rather think of sunny beaches on those islands savoring summer's dreams... then who looks forward to seeing snow? By the ajar door, where shivering robins eat my breadcrumbs, I hold and sip a hot cup of Miss Swiss chocolate and curiously watch how they struggle with their iced beaks: I pity them and let them in...who looks forward to seeing snow?
Soft are the puffing chimneys, Sad is the willow which weeps its mournful tale, Quiet is the golden meadow, soft hay a whispered breeze, As Fall is fast approaching. Ghosts come soaring in brisk nights as howls through the air, But make an ethereal farewell 'pon sanctuary's rise. A rise it is- such brilliant light- to conquer and behold, The mysteries untold of in his final warm embrace.
Amazed to see the flaky romance of snow with whirling winds…… As if nature is playing a pillow fight…. With all its might…. Or as if it is showering flower petals in honour of his muse… What an ambiance it has created for his love in no time… The layout so serene and groovy Even heaven is looking down with envy After the tumult is over The eagerly waiting Sun comes out to see what has been created in its absence The earth appears sparkling As if layered with diamonds Leaving everyone spellbound With such a startling view…
Are we springing towards Spring as lamb tales adorn the wood as these catkins catch the twilight Sun as infant snowdrops hide in the greenery their white lights shy until they are bunches bold? Are we to have a fast forward Spring that will confuse all creatures even us as flood warnings are made redundant, or like last year will Winter will return with delayed vengeance before a quickie Summer?
Just 30 little days in which to turn around A whole new season, new school year The cooled breeze scented with academia, apples and the most tenacious of roses Spiders invading bathtubs, lazy bees Stubbled fields, the grass now yellow where emerald blades once flourished 6 Sept 2011
Love blew into my life unexpectedly on a warm breeze in summer, gently caressing me like a song, enticing me to give my heart. A sensation I had never experienced. Then, love blew out of my life unexpectedly on a frigid gust in winter, silently, chilling me to the bone. My heart turned to ice. A sensation I had never felt. Love returned to me unexpectedly on a soft breeze in spring, like a familiar song. The wind became still, waiting for my heart's reply. By summer, my heart thawed and danced on the breeze, warmly, embracing love once again. Love lives in the wind song of every season and I live happily dancing on the breeze.
Autumn leaves fall gently swayed on the wind Upon a tranquil peaceful rill they come to rest, Stirred by a gentle breeze they journey easily Drifting along amidst tiny twigs of leafy trees, Across a river born of pristine mountain snow Below mirrored images of fluffy white clouds Leisurely traversing glorious crystal clear skies, Life's richness swanning over the mountains Enriches the eye and uplifts the spirit within, Springing forth patchwork quilts of wandering Natural artistic palettes across rolling hillsides, Of once distant souls renewed, lost recollections Nature's ever endearing heart song reaches out Enlivening memories of Eden's garden past, Like tiny sailboats midst wide and stormy seas Cast by eager waves they bide timeless rapids, Rambling passengers cascading at waters edge Overleaping glad iridescent rainbow waterfalls, Betwixt varicolored fellow autumnal passers-by On board nature's enduring watery ferry ride Till hope completes wintertime's seasonal dance © Eugene Harvey
I can recall a summer day, transient as a butterfly. Fields full of poppies, hazy with heat, and pollen on the breeze. Somewhere there is a memory fragile and bright that like a butterfly captures a lifetime in one perfect day. And in the grass the hoar frost melts in winter sun. Icy droplets drip into frozen streams. The world is bathed in rosy light; a fleeting fire as the sun goes down on another perfect day
Over the Golden Week: Despite autumn, weather stubbornly refuses to cool. Started all on a plane, the studied indifference as opposed to a bus the difference is studied sick between Australia and China. (because of the physics) One polar to the other with intention in multiples (unknowing) in different colors (willed), rich wine drunk with color. powder-pink a hint of mauve, tight around the upper thighs, last of that color, that powder pink no compact holds. So I decline subtle snakeskin does more for my dark circles Jade in Shanghai, not in situ, but very versatile, silk too short, wool perfect to the hips, (for fun, mostly), gorgeous long dark red wool, draped organic wave-folds and flower petals Now more comfort subdued, show-offish style a lot of draping and layering which conceals as it reveals. Jade specializes in that sort of thing.
When autumn catches the unwary gardens All the sightseers leave it to itself It wails on its fate On the destruction of all its blooms Remembering the spring air Its heart bleeds Can someone assure my weary garden That spring air is itself eagerly waiting for it Unless it endures the freezing cold How can spring air come into its fold
youd have to see it to believe it but im making compton famous a medusa mask tribal leave a candle burning and a wall of clocks and mirrors and a wedding day gift i painted so you walk to your car or into your apartment and my window do you see the blinds always drawn shut but this artist game is open season for criminals like me there is a candle burning beside the book with exactly that title a kite and a flag of rainbows and several mirrors to haunt your soul kept safe by the hands of time in case you have shattered one but the grinch of the ghetto christmas is reminding one and all to behold the cracks that keep us cold in the winter the pots and the pans sure it seems messy but there is such a method to the madness a pet nmaed rock and no cats are allowed but when you wlak by or drive by this view of the closed curtain of lights and delights we're onto the mayor of the surprise holiday now remember loose lipped sunken shppied
In winters cold I found you Lost too long to warmer times Silence and solitude thoughts reflect In frosted panes you appear fractured Lines running deep, pane to pain Written in crystal clear poetic justice Stephen
Fall through the mist of sky Catch a drop that lets us breath Smear the heat to cover your chills Ignore your growing nature lust
April leaves again, Having just arrived, Bringing flowers for May, Bringing sunshine and showers, She turns and walks away.
I feel in this moment every tremble of the Earth. Every consequence of it's freedom, the quakes disaster for moving, the waves erosion of life, the devastation of windy captivity- the scars of light. I am born, and I must again die to be what I am supposed to be. This carriage is not right, I fall inside fold into breaking froths. I don't want to be normal, I want you to be me. I want to be what's right, and for you all to see the pain you cause, just by being the way you are. The ghost is not natural, death is the reasonable. Let me live intended. Let me let me go. I just want to be myself. Let my words breathe your sight, don't you know the hurt of hiding? I want to collapse in hail, swim down mountains and forget everything I ever knew! I want to find the one who will go when it's time, and come back without reason. because I am alive I am not man made. I am oxide continuum and I don't want anything more than the transitions!
for a while now, i have been kissing the yuletide vibration of your memory i have been placing a wreath on the diamond door hook of your symbolism i have been putting up Christmas lights as a tributary stream of hope for myself i have been wishing that could just wrap my daydreams as a present and somehow make you magically appear progression in life has a way of leading to an amazing type of clarity after a slip here and a slide there like defiant snow a Blessing from God has a way of encouraging the brain to dig deeper in pictorial thought i admit that certain Christmases i was submissive and subservient to the selfish side of my buried wishbones now that i am older and a bit more travelled, the philosophies within me are stirring the dusty limbs of my growth like a warm space heater to the flesh i have come to be thankful moreso for the here and the now while simultaneously embracing the root teachings in memoriam and prayer nowadays, as i place the flowers on the plates and graves, i thank them and love them for all that they gave....and forget about me for a god lil bit.... Merry Christmas, sweet roots, i hope to continue to grow, learn, and embrace the true meaning of the Treetop Connection even more.... ....for the rest of My Time on this earth....
A cock crows and somewhere a forlorn wolf howls at the hated approaching dawn. Then the suns rays break over the horizon in its magnificent splendor. I loook at a tableau that Mother nature has dusted scintilatingly white ,with the kiss of winters first snow. The mighty tree limbs are bare, shivering , a cold gale blows through the skeletons that once were vibrant and green. The heartless wind cares not for the worries of this world, bringing forth portents of Winters first kiss. There is an uneasy stillness, no movements, no sounds. all life is in slumber deep underground. Waiting.....waiting, for the sun to bring forth warmth with the first touch of Spring.
The harp and lute sing in duet: filling the air with songs of peace. Audience can't help but to sigh, so deep; as the voices of heaven descend the earth. The flute has whispered to the autumn breeze- the carols of winter, and yuletide greets; children read the notes of mirth as they await the birth of hope. Indeed, a symphony has now commenced, among the angels and chapel bells; and yet the child, in his corner, dreams: swaddled in humble tattered piece.
Captured Sky The distant sound of thunder rumbles through every cell in my body As the charged air jumped my heart and excitement in this captured moment The Rain held dark and gloomy clouds made their treats across the midday sky First a drop then a thousand to join in a force of hypnotic sounds and rhythm To finally wash away the long… a waiting, dry, and thirsty land once again.
Have you slowed your busy pace to take notice of a drop of rain? As the sun glints through it, do you see its natural and quiet beauty? Becalm your soul in the exquisite burst of color from a leaf after autumn's first kiss. Have you tuned your ear to the fall of the first snowflake of winter? Become mesmerized by the quiet order in natures every soft footfall? As the season's tiptoe past, do you draw inspiration, or blindly immerse yourself in the bland cares and concerns of your daily rush? Grinding your soul into nothingness on the treadmill of society's thoughtless whims. Imprisoned in a self-made sightless box of disregard. Your spirit slowly snuffed out without so much as an objection to the lack of trial or jury. Will you call a mistrial, or will you pray for a last minute death row pardon? Have you betrayed your soul? Summer Gratias
My hands are busy with today, but my thoughts hang back in the humid air of a deceptive yesterday; to dinner and the jungle heat congealed under umbrellas, stained with the residue of city traffic, too loud and too close for significant atmosphere to stand any chance in factoring urban style. Paris, it wasn't, but the setting suggested the delusional coolness of a sidewalk café. The invisible sultriness that had seduced the day forced rivulets of sweat from even the chic-est brows tucked beneath the shaded shadow of the backdropped skyscraper. Heat had the upper hand, and with attitude, flipped off the advancing breeze from the lake; defeated, it proffered nothing more than the stale breath of a probing lover. The haricots verts were passable, the whitefish with pesto-laced orzo - commendable. The coffee? Ah, the coffee was an invisible accompaniment to a parody of authentic New York cheesecake. It was a one sip, one bite affair, exchanged for an iceless margarita in deference to the science of cooling the body with room temperature libations. Jose winked from the glass as I settled back in my chair and began to paint a self portrait for other people's minds. It's what a poet does on the avenue in Chicago, in the heat, in July; eat, drink and imagine you're seen.
I'm oozing now I can't stop Come live by me or close in that tree top Or by my shore like flowers bloom Before I'm dry again soon Feel my running waters glide along the rocks I will soon get them smooth or leave them with cracks I'll green you and oh how I love To give you my name and feed you dove Soar down by my springs, delight in my flurry Stay awhile and fill up no rush no hurry And if go you must come back soon Bring your little ones and friends too Sit by me and spread out there is room Sing to me, in your own voice, a tweet coo There are worms here just by the banks I hope you enjoy it, no need to say thanks So its a date the then tomorrow before dawn I hope you will try, I have waited too long For a reason to flow down this path again I'm yours now please come by my summer time friend
O that winter Could calm the raging storm That her kisses so tender Would silence tempestuous fire Cradle me in her icy embrace Let her pure snow Blanket over every hurt And freeze these endless tears May arctic lullabies Lull me Into slumber eternal Where dreams of crystalline flakes Cover, conceal tragic memories Until this anguished heart Is laid to rest No more to suffer Another tortuous, heavy beat Let me sleep Forever in winter's loving embrace.
autumn gently grabs the lungs, squeezes out the resins of summer slaps you into seriousness, takes children from laps extends silence into issues invites another ring of fat- time to button up living roll another 4 inches of insulation praying the old motor can handle another season of less margin for error autumn has risen to eye level ordered sparrow into his feather hut povertized the ice cream man under damp pointed jewels. a chorus of windchimes are shrill like a voice of metal and ice winter will quarter autumn plaster its legs into death-
"A burst of ice." whispers Winter "Your not being nice!" answers Spring "Your frozen outburst; Your chill, will not change a thing." "I will dance. I will sing. It is inevitable. A symphony of color I will bring." "So walk away. Do not smolder. Soon your reign will be over."
I gently glide through the flowered fields of life, My fingers tap the ends of the petals, Habitually hitting like typewriting excercises, Smooth but Jagged. The wind blows mightily for a second, As if warning me of trials forthcoming, Pieces of pollen dance joyfully in the air, And then sink to redemption. The ground whispers as i pass, Taking deep breaths, As i climb the lowest mountain, And cross the shallow vallies, Into Nature.
Crisp and penetrating is our atmosphere. It blankets the trees with no remorse - their only opportunity for survival lies in the roots that grasp the ground. The bushes and flowers have no hope of seeing tomorrow. Their foundation is a needle trapped in the mighty sea, that falls endlessly further into it's darkened depths, forgotten.
As they end their search for fireflies with only 3 in the jar I realize summer is nearing its end. The signs are all around me. How did I miss them creeping up? The tiger lilies that proudly lined the driveway, greeting each guest with a brilliant show of color, are now nothing more than green swords waving at the kids as they ride their bikes past. The once bright orange blooms are lying on the ground crisp and brown waiting for the next good breeze to take them on their first (and last) journey. The neighbors tree is starting to change into it's Autumn wardrobe already. Its uppermost leaves shimmering in the sun an almost exotice combination of reds and oranges. Its message reads as clear as if it were a billboard: ''SLOW DOWN- Summer ending soon! '' I see even the kids are showing signs of Falls quick approach. They're losing that spring in their step and now are moving along at half-pace. They seem to sense the upcoming school year and I can see the dread in their eyes as if they're losing their best friend and there's nothing they can do about it. With a look of hopelessness I watch them open up their jar to release the 3 fireflies. But, unlike their usual releases where they tip the jar upside-down and shake the creatures out, this time they just removed the lid and set the jar on the picnic table. They sat there patiently watching until the last firefly had found its way out. It was as if they knew this would be the last time they caught them until next year and they needed time to say goodbye.
the autumn smells of home awakens me the leaves of brown are fallen from the trees the sights are all around me, now I see as I walk the hills so free the farmlands vastly are alive to me I'm home to walk the hills and see the animals make nests to sleep warm thru winter's snow to keep the smells of freshly baked pies hams, eggs, breads, fruit arrive from harvest blessings before my eyes of hardwork done from summer time blankets, sheets, rugs out on the lines washed and dryed just in time quilts to air out, clean and fresh before the winter, for the beds to dress autumn jobs, more or less busiest times at our best autumn awakens farmers, before the snowy winter's rest before the snowy winter's rest...
Hose pipe ban water lights up the dawn as the wet shines windows, cars and roads, dulling the once bright pink cheery cherry tree drooping with melancholia, until we see the yellow and pale green of the artificial tall electric light trees that reluctantly give way in our river suburb, to the one patch of sallow yellow sky rising east of the church, pushing brown clouds away while pulling in the bright blue sky after the bright wet night.
The rain is falling like the tears of a million angels weeping for the world. Water running down the old tin roof sounds like music floating on the wind. It's rhythm flowing through my mind, filling me with peace and contentment. Cooling the hot summer air as it falls across the landscape, it makes me shiver. It brings life to all it touches, the plants and trees cleaned and caressed by it spring to life. I can see their happiness as it rains down on them, their leaves ever so gently washed and bathe.
Decayed ivy trails holding on with its last grasp There visible etchings left marks upon the brick Where the wind ever so gently moves and wiggles The remaining leaves A reminder of the change that has surfaced A winter storm has landed And with a driving intensity That gentle wiggle has blossomed The skies have released its frozen nightmare People fussing about Trying to get home, with the forces Hammering their windows Cars skidding and screaming through the night And there are those that gave up the fight Abandoning their vehicles where they ceased People on foot walk with heads tipped down Fighting the driven snow For those that made into their domain That would shake off the weather and sigh of relief To have made it home in one piece Winter has laid its grip on Boston And its magnitude can be seen With white matter hanging is seasonal magic On the limbs of trees Obstructing views Embracing walkways and blanketing homes And looming a hush to the city streets Winter's born
Some days you see perfection in the sky and it can bother you that that perfection is not within you Some days you look up to see dirty buildings and filthy air and you wonder where the beauty is and if it really still exists and you realize the outside does not match the beauty desired inside Some days the sky is gray and rain falls in relief And its in these days that you are in peace because whatever hindrance that you keep pent up is somehow comforted by the sky's release And that part of melancholy can just be ...And it is in these days when you are wrecked and cloudy, that particles of hope condense ready to rain joy upon you, because you know that in the morning bright blue will once again gleam in your eyes and the air will breath of relief and rainbows will speak of the promise of life and the perfection you see in the sky will spill straight into your soul
crimson sun blink blink mother and child snow blink red traffic light blink blink blink school bus copper toned speckled pavement blink stop sign blink blink hard hats blink simmering asphalt caution tape blink blink wheels go round blink blink shoots and morning dew blink crimson sun blink blink i see i see i see still the eyes blink have no clue blink blink what to expect blink and beg for more
Hints of gold swarms the tips of trees a treasure chest lingers up high and bowing in the breeze at your presence beckoning your eyes to lift from the floor I touch at the brilliance and warmth bursts through my veins wrapping me up in nature's film protecting, collecting, dissecting thoughts Only now is the moment it will soon be gone and the glinting sky will be poisoned by grey as swirling winds brush away the sun This is my nature lingering thoughts echoed throughout as day becomes night in my soul and the beautiful day fades to another sometimes lost; sometimes found always at one with the world.
Things go awry but life moves on anyway There's love and laughs and takes for gain For every high there is low and loss the same A fight against change let my good times stay Please remain please remain they never stay. Things aren't right but life moves on anyway The further from the center the more we cycle and change Until our change too starts to stagnate Somewhere between we see spring to heat 'Till the leaves are no longer green or breathe. Things get ****ed but life moves on anyway How lucky are we? To wonder and dream Of a life where we might have shared love between? When the empty we heed echos of a world in need How lucky - just how lucky - are we?
Spring stillness, morning dew, the trowel pressed into black loam, home for worms and pill-bugs. Tender seedlings, just unfolding, planted into the rich earth. Pulling weeds, planting seeds, the arbiter of life in this small patch of green reclines beneath the spreading tree and waits for summer. Roots grow deep and stems, striving toward the soaring sun, rise up. Next season's bursting bounty swelling in Summer's heat. He pours cool water from a can. Red wagon, wheels sinking, overflows with abundant produce. A colorful bounty paints Autumn's silhouette on her table as trees, slipping into slumber, release their leaves. Winter's white paints a silent blanket, the hearth ablaze, a jar of peaches near the frosted window. Soon, the first thaw will come to liberate Spring.
The air is breezy, the night is silently resting under a moonless sky. Incense burns strong but on this night; the scent was like faint words to an untrained ear. No Moon to gaze upon, nothing to offer condolence. And just as discontent quickly enters, it leaves. The wind rises,temporarily transposing all thoughts rational, all things not rooted, all things unclear. A moment in chaos passes quickly but the memory cannot be repressed, appreciated. The clouds, gone with the wind. The moon; once hidden, illuminates. The scent of vanilla filled the cosmos and the song retold creation A melody in which the beautiful voice perplexes the laws of science. The song that exalted Kings and crowned Queens played until the Sun silenced him dead.
I blame it on the light pretending. Auburn bright and Autumn too. Fainted dim of our December imparts the solemn fall of all to view. Crass comes the stilted body, amalgam in the slanted rain. The April rains a timbered soak. The rings. O time! O time remains.
Wondrous winter Chills the nose, Warms the heart and swirls the snow. Children play. Angels are made. Lovers are laughing And flakes are laid. Cocoa and Candy, A sign of night. Till tomorrow, when again All is bright.
I remember you as you were in the last autumn, The leaves adorned my heart with your music, they were sounds of your cadence voice that never left the air like echoes in the wind, even the birds sang like you, they had your tongue and throat, you were the artist with no fame, your appearance your voice were steady and calm. They brought to me hymns and peace. In your eyes the serenity of your soul were like flames of light that never burned. You were like the white sheets of my bed, always in peace and warm, the autumn brought back your guitar your slow melody like a breeze beneath my curtains, and my house was then singing like my heart.
Not holding back a thing like the telephone, it does not ring. I lost the song the notes floated away. Been dreaming way to long so goes the lover's broken song. Lost the key and the door is locked. it will come as a shock I know. But this desert rose is dry and tired she's moving on now. No holding me back now I am moving along . not sure, what took me so long to decide what is best for me. Perhaps it was the misspelled title of those hidden longed for dreams and the spell when I fell for you so long ago. The door is locked the rain is pouring outside. I forgot the phone just let it ring. Did not look back I went straight ahead to the dry desert. Going to rescue that rose before it is too late. Going to beat fate at its own game make it bow in shame taking her back where she belongs being herself once more. No tear... not even one tear...
The trees danced back and forth in the wind As the bushes rustled along to the move The grass whistled, feeling brand new Creating the forest's own special tune With the leaves turning to the shades of fall The trees slowed their dance The bushes, in turn, slowed their rustle too The grass continued to whistle, having too much fun Nothing can stop the leaves from falling The trees know they are only stalling The bushes too see the delay The grass just wants to continue to play Standing bare, the trees dared not to move The bushes stopped rustling, feeling alone The grass continued to whistle, not wanting to stop Yet, no one could hear it under a white blanket The stark white snow silenced the forest's song No dancing, or rustling, or whistling can be heard But don't you fret or worry They'll come back in the spring with their special song. When they come back they will be louder than ever A bond between them that no one can sever A melody that we will forever remember And a spring night that will last until December Jessica Turl October 5, 2011 Edited: October 9, 2011
how must i wake this morning when heralded with storm and rain that wash my tired eyes through glass i recite the days long pain again and again oh again and again how must i wake this morning how must i break this shame. shelter me from the heavy darkened shadows that remind me of the sun that once envigarated passions see me stood in winter fashions with skin unblemished pale and dour give me the sun that blossoms flowers when the seconds chase the hours. i exist in time not having lived this life like a fictional inanimate shape born of one mans imagination only to be brought to life in social situations give me patience or free me with eternal life stick my back in knife. just simply give me strength so when again the morning heralds me i may face it cap in hand smile and make a stand I'll greet each days storm and rain with hope of facing sun again.
Summer Summer days they go by so fast, I wish they would slow down so I could make them last. The hot days sitting under the sun, wish I could have a hamburger on a bun. Now the season coming to an end is such a bummer because there's no more summer.
O' winds of winter be thou Sunkist To touch the streams of my heart amidst As the warmth of a Spring morning anew Let your breath kiss the banks of my soul, As with a touch of sweet honey dew .. And I shall be renewed... As with a touch of sweet honey dew Let your breath kiss the banks of my soul, As the warmth of a Spring morning anew To touch the streams of my heart amidst O' winds of winter be thou Sunkist
Time don't smile I accept with open arms The hardships wished upon this child Time won't smile Scars for souvenirs Symptoms of a lonely mans mile Time don't smile My senior year nearly lost I promise it's everything but false Generosity of a kind mans heart Sacrificed happiness remaining the cost Two wrongs don't make a right Yet I put two negatives together And on the other end of the equation I saw a light No need to become sentimental My misery is all but instrumental After while hope will be widespread I mean continental Speak soft to me mother Let your prayers reach my heart, ever so gentle And out here it ain't all bad Mistaken guilt for love, what you call sad Internal bleeding Still on my soul eternity is feeding It's all in good deeds A palm full of trust is all I'm needing LSD, stress , a bit of Hennessey Got me blessed with bad tendencies Why does it seem disaster is so kin to me White roses, Grave yard dozers, and spiritual imposers Has my life at a sudden closure Time won't smile
Red moon in October night, Crimson sprays, from pale light. Earth's shadow, casting lovely glow, Red atmosphere transferring light to pale moon, The Blood Moon shines tonight. Watch from the land, Watch from the sea, Watch from the air, Watch from space, Watch the Blood Moon. Red light shines down on Earth's shadow, Common night displayed in bloody clarity From land, air, and sea. Cast lovely light glow around Earth, From outer space, Lights out, deep red glow. No red moon in black depths of space, But red Earth, made brighter From the Blood Moon. A night of sorrow, warrior loss, Pray for survival, Of warriors fighting abroad, Tribute paid to dead warriors of the past, The Blood Moon shines for the dead to. Night is over, The Blood Moon is gone, One more year, till the time is right, And the Blood Moon shall shine again, But now back to life, Anticipation for the next crimson night.
My friend the sun is setting and the days will soon grow cold. What is new must grow old. The spectacular scene of swarming rays beside crystal light must dim to shade. Those ravishing ripples will soon grow course and fun in the sun will strike a pause. Wind will bellow like a swarm of bees or biting ants that maze the moulding mud. To conflict but to confide will only heighten winters pride. Damnation two competing souls will draw to an un-victorious pause. Yet no battle is ever won to humans the war continues on. My love, a plea is as contceptive as talk within actions truth is bred. Cruelty is masked by normality, charms of a conquest is often too lightly walked into. You have beaten one clever soul, whose grip was fun but turned cold. Now deceit grows a new face one who knows not his inflicting ways. My friend I love to waltz in summertime's brew however dreamers fall in line. Lions await the waiting feline. Crickets click and fish do swim whose lake do you jump in? My love the summer often wins first prize but even winter has a golden side Embellish in the colours summer offers you, but allow winter to warm you. Lick the fire as you kissed the sun. Feel heaven in four seasons yet to come. My friend, loneliness will hold us down consuming us with the rain that beats us down. My love, reverse that beating to walk what's knew. Enjoy your existence, the diamonds is within you. My friend happiness is not just sun, in finding joy in the seasons four And loving the gems that you live for.
Summer's End The closing of a door Winter beckons Carefree days Of sunshine Wafted away Summer's warmth Chilled by Winter's wrath 1st September 2013
If streets had beats, Ours would be steady, Diversity beautifies Mt. Airy, The veins of life are blue and bright; Here, Nature revives our lives, The grace of spring arrives, I hear the children at play, Today is pleasant, Today is positive, I feel so alive.
Beyond the foot bridge where I walk here today A small bird stopped by And left me an ear full of noise We shelter our thoughts away as though we were hibernating White blankets the landscape that once was green and lush Where the last gasps of warmth sink in around the lavender All is asleep on this meager spot Silent echoes from the winter's bath Where I watch in delight while he looks for his food Holly berries and bushes alike His freedom is But a flight away from me But he ponders as though he too was thinking And I wait in hopes, he'll remember and return Beyond the foot bridge where I walk here today
Football games and parades And naps after the big dinner For all but cooks and cleanup crew, That's just the way it is. The big shopping day on Friday As dictated by the season, Confusion and maxed credit cards As we dine on yesterday's leftovers. Thanksgiving is always slighted As we hold our breath for Christmas, Trying to please, remember colors and sizes, Wanting to cut up the plastic. Too much food, too much drink Means the yearly resolution of diet; Baking we don't do the rest of the year Is left for the twelfth month of glitz.
Winters Call The leaves of autumn act out in defiance Clinging to their branches, desperate to remain Their brilliant red and gold has now grown rusty Their voices rustling glumly in the trees Chilling winds encroach upon the landscape A prelude to a season yet to come Preparing a new canvas on which nature Will create a new and brilliant pastel theme Pale blues and pinks and whites soon overtake us Icy fingers pinch color to our cheeks Sounds of the season seem to speak more softly Muted by the presence of the snow Life's tempo moves now with a quickened cadence A new urgency is added to our tread We surrender to the pristine hills and meadows And embrace a world alive with Winters breath
Winter has taken hold of my heart. In the dark of night she slunk in, leaving frosty-footprints on the glass, and sang me to sleep with lips as soundless as an owl's wing-feather, dusting my eyes with powder to help them seal shut. With snowy fingers she incised my breastbone and plucked my ribs like the petals of the last flower: one for me, one for her, one for me… they cascade to the floor, white and crumbling. She raised herself up, back arching, and drove her feelers - silvery tentacles, glistening like dew - through my system, latching herself onto me, drilling nails into the soft-spots on my bones. She hooked my veins together like a bundle of cords and seeped down into them like battery-acid: eating away at my nerves until only the tips of my fingers remembered how to feel. She stroked my heart, cooing softly, thumb and forefinger reaching down with elegance and demonic-grace to take that tiny thrumming machine into her hand, and-- …twist… I could not even cry for what I had lost.
Foreboding night of mist twined with shadows of glowing lamplights. She was standing there under the lamplight post, her weathered cylinder mechanical smile, in photogenic reverse. Seemed she had been waiting for sometime like the years end of mature thyme. Graceful movements her hands went to work caressing an imaginary spot in her palm. Her head lifted towards the voices ahead thoughts grasping the spilled syllables of conversation. Without a speck of rationalization her eyes lit her countenance sparked. Her disappointment registered once more as the couple passed. Her hands began to massage the aching spot in the middle of palm. Her heart swallowed whole the womb of age and disengaged as she remembered the long wait of a promise the years of compromise. Another year approaching her weathered mechanical smile faded to a line. Her arms sleeved in the coolness of the night under the shadowed glow from the lamplight.
May the Arch-Angels , from CHRIST'S BIRTH, Sing Hymns and Halleluiahs MAY YOUR GOD , YOUR Higher Power ,YOUR CHRIST, Bless YOU with Prosperity MAY YOUR Pens Write the Spirit of the season, YOUR CHRISTMAS cards be Pleasin' The POETRY YOU Write this season will become the Archives for Posterity. TO all the POETS, Present and Past, I wish YOU, SEASONS GREETINGS. TO my Family of POETRY SOUP POETS , each and everyone : "JOYEUS NOEL" Thank-YOU for YOUR support this year, Thanks: with a very Merry Christmas Cheer. May YOUR hopes and dreams become reality. The NEW YEAR : be an INSPIRATION.
Dapple winter sky dune mingle with drizzle frost tunes. A stroll through winter wonderland hand in hand we shuffle new fallen snow. Ice maidens dance in the blowing winds. Frostbitten feels my fingertips, my lips you warm with ember thought kisses. Oh, how I love the winter brisk meeting with you at my side and a full lifes ride. Come now winter blow the seasons magic travel near and far.
Warmth of sun upon the ground Spring forth flowers - spring Snow drops and primulas Radiating colours amongst the greenery - evergreen Leaves of autumn still remain A mulch and cover for comfort from frost Lavender velvet green - buds bursting Renewed growth to flower - violet Aroma of renewed soil Life in earth again.
Brown and green colors of dirt and grass three inches tall in spring mud between my toes wet from the sprinkler I ran through this afternoon. Under a lowering gray sky fallen wet maple leaves red and yellowey brown veined against the stiff dying lawn dusted with glitter from last night's frost.
As far as my mind can perceive, that which is all I have come to believe Stands true to my soul, and as I grow old realizing there's more to be seen. If you share same nature in feeling, and have courage enough not conealing Then dont be afraid, express it in ways, assessing the cards god is dealing. Trust that god in its general name, shows creater just what it has made Wayward cultures confused, helpless people are used in the race to place all the blame. You are brave enough to construct, true religion yet faux claims deduct Then you'll see there is reason for changing of season, and "coincidence" isn't just luck. Its whats positive that which I feel, and negative hits harder than steel I find more joy from the up, so darkness gets fluxed and spirit steers better my wheel. How did I possibly come to conlusion? obtain vision and not just illusion? I read people like books, so when teachers tried to look I either embraced or gave resolution.
I ride my "Women Inspired" Schwinn up to my friend's path. My bike is magenta and the path is chartreuse, Swathed by the spent spring buds of a tree. I see Mister, who I call "Meester the Dog!" My friend slides her door open, Mister jumps to greet me. He is like a little, bright, brown pierogi, Boiling between my friend and I like we were the sides of a kettle. He is so happy, he pees on the patio and we smile and laugh. I see my friend standing by the door, And her great chocolate eyes and effulgent smile, So comfortable in her soft grey top and her soft grey pants. So comfortable in her skin. We talk of the mundane, of money, the funny, Tigers and Appleby's, bogies and birdies. We are absolutely ourselves in each other's company And she gives me delicious tea. I put my magenta bike into the wind, Pedaling happily home. I love this woman. Tomorrow many will observe a resurrection. The holy will stand in church and celebrate the power of a god. Today I stood on a bud strewn path. Today I saw my friend. Today I saw the sacred. Today I celebrate.
All bubbles burst. Shiny surfaces streaked in oily rainbow lakes. Ephemeral winds that shift the dust of the earth. Sand dunes ever-changing. Lightly kissed lips. The feel of a fleshy palm holding on. The wave that formed, crashed and will never be seen again. All clouds float away. Ephemeral kisses that disappear, but in memory, remain. Your imprint on the wet sand. Water seeps in. Thousands of paper sheets shredded. Strips of characters. Scattered ashes. Ephemeral sad smiles. The daisy-chain of small flowers that wilt, die, decay.
Spring flowers blossoming in every direction, The grass is greener than ever, the air more pure. The world changes as winter blossoms into spring, Transforming the world into an entirely different identity. An unfamiliar identity that seems so foreign compared to the long winter. These changes come about too quickly. One minute your comfortable with the intensely cold temperature, You've familiarized yourself with the blanket of snow outside, You've mastered driving on the icy roads. Then suddenly, the next minute, the snow melts away, dissolving into the ground. The air becomes warmer as the sun peeps through the clouds. All that was good and familiar has disappeared as new forms begin to sprout. New strange things surround you, forcing you to accept its existence. You're trapped within a new, foreign environment. Forced to accept the evident differences between the two seasons. Like the changing seasons, my address will be changing, My home, my school, my world - all changing. These changes come about too quickly.
Upcountry thunder turns the plain milled storefronts to shades of muscat-grape and citron, dusky rose. Pavement ripples with reflections never thought before, as clouds pass dark as bedrock, molten at the core.
Blackbird sitting in the dead ash tree; He's the only blackbird I can see. Stare, Blackbird, I will stare; Something about you pertains to me. The brightest spring I've ever seen: Blossoms white as milk, or cream. I never thought the grass, I'd miss; Now, I gaze upon the emerald bliss. Sheltered by the bluebird sky, What should chance To catch my eye? A lonely blackbird, calm and still; I watch him from my windowsill. Birds of a feather flock together? Not this one, not this bird With a different song that needs To be heard. One blackbird In the dead tree, Alone, He's the most free. Perched tall on limb so tranquil, proud, I draw him out From feathered crowd. When I wake, I hear his voice; Lonely blackbird makes his choice. Uniqueness Holding my respect, I wonder of his intellect. Of all the things he thinks he knows, Stern isolation Is what shows. If every bird doth hatch the same, For another who's to blame? All blackbirds sing among the green, But one stands tall In branches lean. I watch this bird alone For hours, Pond'ring segregation powers. Some say laws dictate behavior, Yet I prefer to call On nature.
Daffodils bunch, spring has sprung, Sun raises higher to waken sleepy heads; No time for hibernation now as spring fever hits, - create time to get together; go fly a kite, or sit and chill, make daisy chains. Let the sunshine bring warm sunny days. In meadows baby lambs take their first steps; whilst mad March hare hops and plays with baby bunnies dotting the green fields of the countryside. A season where everything wants to bloom, time to trim those lawns and weed again; and all just in time before spring rains will once more aid those thirsty flowers and bulbs as they grow. For it is now that gorgeous butterflies flutter gracefully by giving nature a helping hand; pollinating the kingdom while watching little chicks - crack open their Easter eggs, just in time to join in the madness of this happy holiday season.
Here I stand as cool as the wind, heavenly rain drops, my lord showers me with his mist. hail proceeds, mother natures nurturing hand turns to a fist. Nearby, an aspen, short and bulky sways with her current, dancing to a wind song. A dramatic sequence occurs, raindrops beat the pavement acting as drums. Wind songs sound of tambourine and the aspen sings her melody, each leaf its own entity. All with a different tone, She smells like lilac perfume.... Is she a she? Or is she a he? A natural figure, a figment of ones own preference. Mother nature represents the world . From the cirrus and strattus clouds, to a picture perfect sunset. Mountains that span high into a distant horizon, or the weeping willow whose inspirational position gives beauty its definition.... .....2009.....JP
Let me explain a simple something how we measure time in the cosmos is based on a circular orbital movement of planets and stars and as for thinking are questions seeking answers which just lead to more questions and that's the beauty of it simplicity defines even the most complex systems that function right down to the circuit boards for computers and technology Mama seals it with Kiss Keep it simple stupid anyone who doesn't know a clock embedded in the universe has not recognized his own Ecc 8:17 9:3 This is the evil in everything that happens under the sun: The same destiny overtakes all.The hearts of people, moreover, are full of evil and there is madness in their hearts while they live, and afterward they join the dead. 4 Anyone who is among the living has hope even a live dog is better off than a dead lion! 5 For the living know that they will die, but the dead know nothing;they have no further reward, and even their name is forgotten.6 Their love, their hate and their jealousy have long since vanished;never again will they have a part in anything that happens under the sun. 7 Go, eat your food with gladness, and drink your wine with a joyful heart, for God has already approved what you do. 8 Always be clothed in white, and always anoint your head with oil. 9 Enjoy life with your wife, whom you love, all the days of this meaningless life that God has given you under the sun—all your meaningless days. For this is your lot in life and in your toilsome labor under the sun. 10 Whatever your hand finds to do, do it with all your might, for in the realm of the dead, where you are going, there is neither working nor planning nor knowledge nor wisdom COPYRIGHT © 2013 C Michael Miller via Duboff Law Group LLC
Standing atop this massive mountain I feel at peace I see every detail of the city The city where my heart lies The city where my heart beats The rivers flow and come together in a sweet phenomenon The air is crisp here, as always Everything Everything In view No one else can grasp The awe standing here Here over the city Seeing it all In bustling beauty.
For as I hold your hand in the blizzering snow As we are in the zoo we know that we will be always together As we walk around the cages every animal snores in it's cage Every animal in the zoo is snoring and getting a hair cut too. In the zoo.
This year has passed by quickly, changes everywhere. It's all been reminding me, of this life that we all bear. I thank God each day for this holiday. Reminding me of hope, saving me with Grace. It's all about a child, born one quiet day. Recognized by kings and paupers, that he will truly save. He was feared by some, and revered by others, no matter what day it truly was, it's a day to praise the birth of the King! Stand tall and sing, and praise Him more and more. Christ is born for us, to let us love like never before! Merry Christmas to all, don't let the gifts take your focus. Sit back and contemplate, this day that we all celebrate!
It's time to put a hold on hobbies, except for the weekends, watch less television, and go to sleep around ten; and if any of the teens came home after nine, they would be grounded and denied privileges... they would have another reason to hate this season! I had the same unhappy feeling about school, September was the least liked month for any boy, and that meant playing no games, or flirting with girls in shady parks, or baseball fields...but all in all, it was a challenge to break away from those indulging things: like children who had another reason to hate this season!
Admist the rocky mountains And the natural springs Comes a better place I remembered things under this lamp post is where you first asked me to take your hand in marriage I remember you down on one knee and the snow was just starting to fall You looked like a little lost puppy looking for a way to speak I took your hand and said yes That was over twenty years ago And to this date we still come back to the Springs of Colorado and say I Do Tribute To Colorado Rocky Mountain High
The alabaster snow hides the scars of dead earth with a cold cruel beauty fierce and crippling lacking in warmth. The snow queen battles with moaning wind refusing to withdraw as her anger increases veiling any promise of renewal and rebirth. Laughing she challenges all rights for survival humiliating both man and beast.
I wanted Maxfield Parrish For you and with only you A dream I know A laugh to you? Oh, how it couldn't be. Now, there's been no point For a long time for any apologies As much as I want to give them, you know Ridiculous and hollow to you? Yeah, what could I say? How about thanks For the pain and the longing A surprise I know A bad joke to you? But I'm serious. This is our paradise present For the past and the waste It seems to make sense I know A mere nothing to you? That's fine. If you need us to be dead For my wrongs and your pity A shame I know Any burden to you? Let go of it. What I see is a tomorrow For you and with you A lot of chutzpah I know Is it the putative old sick obsession just re-twisted? See for yourself. Today my guaranteed fare thee well is here For you and yours A shock I know My goodbye is another lie to you? No, my Love.
one by one the days turn into blurs my head feels like hamburger scrambled my whole body aches right down to my jelly legs and tingling toes and i know that winter has come feeling numb at a standstill like a statue frozen in time
summertime is the time for lots of fun A time for the warmth of the sun. A ride in the country on your bike Swimming in the community pool, take a hike. Family vacations to the mountains or faraway lands time to work on your golden tan. Time to sleep in or just kick back go to the fishing hole with Jack. Roll down the window in your car get out your telescope look at the stars. Play a game, run barefoot in the grass wishing summertime could stay forever and not pass.
It's the special season of giving and joy not felt in months of warmth and heat; TV programs with beaming faces tell us we are happy; hassled clerks and confused shoppers all swept up by the seasonal depression, what is enough and when do you stop handing over the plastic? The season seems to be measured by materialism and its pseudo happiness; but it comes to an end when it's back to work with budget and taxes during the in-between months of everyday living.
Being grown-up means the snow isn't magic anymore.
(for Hart Crane) How completely the silence encloses our life. We will talk and crowd the room with words like blown-in insulation. The beveled moon cuts us with its edge something not considered not thought of before. The treason of a moment never pleases in retrospect. And there is no season for banality just frailty for there must be living: autumn's benediction the pale strawberries of spring a rainbow trout in winter lake. There is that and the silence so nearly said telling nothing and everything of presence a dull sheen concealing the stone the dark wish the plum Hart the plum.
Snow blind, in a snow storm. Some just don't know.. winters sailor be warned ! South winds and east winds adjour, stuck here all winter nice and warm.
Maple syrup on the top Hash browns on the side Scrambled eggs with peppers too Sweet pancakes for you They'll taste delicious With cold milk Wow! The "Epulaeryu" consists of seven lines with thirty-three (33) syllables. The first line has seven (7) syllables, the second line five (5), the third line seven (7), the fourth line five (5), the fifth line five (5), the sixth line three (3), and the seventh line has only one (1) syllable which ends with an exclamation mark. It's all about delicious food. The Epulaeryu poem was developed by Joseph Spence after enjoying many delicious and nourishing international cuisine and drinks during his most memorable travels.
Memories rest, Flowerterrible, in beds of summer Soils. Each petal a Struggle of colour Against grainy backbeats; Come Autumn, the Omnipotent spring goddess Takes to crossing sidewalks. "Flowerterrible" Jenna-Nichole Conrad Wordsmith
When May presents Spring and poles record prime time. Springtime grows hope's green life, when new lambent springs may resolve adolescent issues through spacetime's line, polarizing regenerating hearts. Bipolar hearts are like May flowers springing colored fragrances balancing chaotic dissonant harmonies longing to belong within enculturing life showers, raining Maypoles to compost well-sprung roots, drenched grace of incarnation.
Walking along the path, I gaze upon the scene, two lovely Daffodils, swaying in the breeze. ~*~ "Two Daffodils" stand in a rutilant post, no genial others are there to boast, the blossoms in oppositional salute, thankfully their flowerets didn't bolt! ~*~ Pretty yellow, glowing beacon from a far, like the sun, our distant warming star, Ye pistol and petals is very chromatic, an ephemeral flower that's never dramatic. ~*~ While your bloom is veritably short, an late spring is your final tort, with the generation of thy all covering lawn, oh how I miss you when you've pawned!
Whistling breeze, a pleasing song so dear to me The sunlit drops dancing upon warm cobble streets Dancing sakura so pink and pure of a snow below Small creatures gliding across the pastures beside me A perfect day to begin a song filled melodic spring
Summer Day Walking down the dusty country road Skipping rocks over the creek Running through the pasture chasing cows Taking a long dip in a cool lake on a hot summer day Catching a horny toad to bring home to Mom Whistling my way down the long dusty road Free to do whatever I please along the way What a great way to spend a summer day
Asparagus peeps tiny green helmets from brown beds, looking this way, that, to a spring sun that has come again like the vultures to Hinckley, Texas, settling down to business.
Lovely visions flow through my head memories of green, yellow, orange and red. Pictures of autumn, I can see them quite clear it is always so beautiful this time of year. From the top of this hill I can see far and wide, an ocean of colors reaching up to the sky. The wind is so cool; there is a chill in the air, it soon will be clear that winter is here. The dense heavy fog, the frost on the ground the grass now crackles when we walk around. All of the children bundled from head to toe hoping and praying that soon it will snow. Logs burn in the fireplace so warm and bright, It fills our hearts with happiness and delight. These lovely visions flow through my head, beautiful memories of green, yellow, orange and red.
Independence Day is over A sweltering night has been gathered up and trucked away The faint fragrance of burnt offering still hangs low ....like sweat, of a long, grey cloak. The park still echos with faint "ooooh's" and "ahhhs"... lingering in the sultry air, and bouncing off the silent bandstand If you try, you can almost hear the High School band, playing tributes to Souza and the homeland flag Where eyes glistened and reflected a night sky alive with fire now, the only sounds are chattering squirrels, as they scurry and nibble on remants of a celebratory feast, hiding in the dewy grass The morning air is cool and the ground is damp Park benches, the bandstand, hilly mounds of grass and playgrounds abandoned, save of their mourning clothes Of candy wrappers, watermelon rinds, mustard coated paper plates Spent sparklers, fire crackers, a lone sneaker... Where just hours ago..music from radios, laughter, cheering, hooting, jeering Deafening man-made thunder made babies cry dogs tremble, children clap their hands over ears Now so silent in this early somber morn The only sound this morning comes from a slight breeze that stirs.... a tossed Pepsi paper cup.... as it clatters a pop, pop, popping tune...as it hops among the dried, brown leaves down a hot, empty sidewalk...
The world is changing Even the sky is a darker shade of blue And the squirrels are at war With the snakes The acorn fell to the wrong side of the tree And the snakes say, "The acorn is for me." The seasons have become bold Nature has come to reclaim her domain And the elephants are chasing The cheetah The water hole is a sacred place The cheetah winces, falls from grace. Ice rain falls from the heavens Reshaping all that is The birds together in mixed confusion As the falcon carries away the cow A feast of feasts to feast upon Until the bone and marrow are gone. The polar caps have melted Has the earth moved closer to the sun? The penguins are armed with rifles Killing off the polar bear Save the polar bear, the creed A new endangered species. The forest has found ending Trees are placed in designated positions And the stingray becomes the mortal enemy Of man The world is indifferent to all Maybe things will be better in the fall.
What a turkey, I mean the bird, juicy, and tender, my word.
Finally the day Relaxing in my lawn chair Barbeque grill smoking; Smells oh so good! Volleyball over the net Family fireworks—Wow!
Hazel-eyed Ma grew the loveliest begonias on her neat and colorful balcony; and if rains were scarce, she would water them... until the fragrant buds would bloom! Exactly at eight o' clock, for three seasons, she tendered for them with her caring hands; and no weeds would mar their beauty so exquisite... all the nuns came rushing from the Convent! Sing, adorable mother, sing another aria...the happiest one, as you caress your flowers with the gentlest touch; crowds will gather underneath your festive balcony, to listen with interest and acclaim you for your superb vocals! Hazel-eyed Ma grew the loveliest begonias not seen in the most spacious and elegant gardens; she suddenly was known as the flower woman, but also became the envy of many housewives. Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci
As we watched her from across the sea, an eerie feeling came over me. Her sisters we had met before, so happy were we when they left our shore. Slow and seductive she stayed on her course. Taunting and teasing having no remorse. For days she haunted us, we had not a clue. None of us knew what she might do. Nervous we watched her and prayed for the best. Hoping she was not like the rest. Katrina and Rita her sisters were named, her we named Wilma in hopes she was tame. Then as she eased upon our shores, we boarded the windows and bolted the doors. The rain it did pour, the wind it did wail, some houses were flooded by this tropical gale. Soon it was over, we all looked outside. The power was gone, many trees lay aside. But happy we were that she had not seemed, as mad and mean as her sisters had been.
I siphoned you, from off the pale skin of the pool pollen thin and yellow dust, sweet gone by and ready to slip to soil hindered by chlorine and tap danced on by a thousand night bugs who trampolined in silver ripples when only the moon was looking. I spat you out, rust and tang from the old green hose which sat coiled beside the tin shed's feet for decades, a home for woe-begotten weeds and that old rake with no handle which once I used to pull down pieces of the sky in a demand for rain. It's all for naught on this summer day as the riddle of affection comes full circle and presses it's nose against my thoughts I cling to the vinyl wall, mere seconds, before pushing off with pruny feet to take a dip.
I love you, autumn Welcome to my tropic paradise The rivers swollen bosom Bids you drink, and these blue skies Solacing my mind, Ask you now to dream, the earth Beckons you its grassy pillow For in our dream we never die And love and life return Like the eagle in the sky To mock the sun that cannot burn And over troubled mountains fly Holding the gleam of delight In the glassy eye By being fed at nature's plight Many names Demeter Starve us not again For want of growing grain or rain But brim us with your wheat Let the does come in And let their milk be white upon our teeth. For Persephone has come back Her pomegranate harvest Making glad the laden bee Hermes has closed Hades cavern Bringing us healing and joy O let children go reap the flowers The hearth is full of laughing And deities their bargain keep Love will sow and labor reaps Joy will sing And autumn brings The bubbling time of thanksgiving
Punxsutaweney Phil Speaks A interview with Punxsutaweney Phil Groundhog News. Reporter: Mr Phil , How did you get in to weather reporting? Mr Phil: My dad did it and my granddad did it so it's in the family. Reporter: Why Feb 2nd of every year? Mr Phil: It's Mid winter Reporter: Do you like seeing your shadow? Mr Phil: Not Really! Reporter: How about Today? Mr Phil: Well it's like this a 50/50 Chance. And all will be seen. Reporter: Punxsutaweney Phil speaks today of either an early spring or a long winter. I guess will have to see. And this report is betting on Phil.
Phil speaks Before the winter sun can open its eyes, The legendary Phil emerges out of its lair, Members with hats and tuxedos, Predict the long winter If he sees his own shadow, If doesn't see shadow, early spring is ready to burst forth, Brings festivities of food and melody, Misinterpretation can call for a death penalty, February 2nd, the Groundhog Day ! Written Jan 29th, 2015 For contest by John Lawless
Morning Treasures By Dane Smith-Johnsen A hint of golden sun on treetops glows. One brown leaf floats slowly toward the ground. Autumn, not yet arrived, stretches her wings. Sunshine beaming beyond dense trees glows bright. Thus, giving just a glimpse of life beyond woods. Reflections of a busy past recalled. Gratitude rises through the clouds to God. All-knowing wisdom brought me to this peace. Tranquil reflections and life with love merge. As morning awakens, anticipation hopes. And sorrows that have borne pain dissipate. Armed with joy, pain no longer has a grip. The morning light heightened brightens life's view. Optimism is born. This day is new. And at dusk, I shall say adieu, adieu. 9/27/09
I love you and I hope for none When will you receive a kiss for then and now I give you my hopes and none to be for love. And wise and springs and air coming through the windows to cool down the sift of imagination To winters above and little tiny balls like in the sunshine rising to be gone for the loss in nature of us all. Ava
A hill is frosted in ivory Almost cupcake like- I venture towards this delicacy The crunch under my worn boots resonates I see no one, Only footprints in the distance The hill grows closer A numbing chill My cheeks feel the icy air, fighting tirelessly to keep warmth I reach a hunched man Beard wispy and white "Old Man Winter," I presume Ah yes, he has finally arrived.
The Jackal's line of demarcation ye souls' furlough for interim... Today, cockcrows perturb in a gala thrice for thee quiescent stay, God's Park of Ephemera, sashays the daggled the minder harks, a chest not in to rest, of dais edicts, cudgels so contagious; haughty wheels peddle rashly between two havocked hearts, foisting wintry fobs of progeny pleating to let pigeons exeunt, if bedlam trotting by pothers ye, the cob, yet calmly sings, "Fare-thee-well, Oh snowflake in dwindle, hallow me next spring, via crepuscules, cleaved like vacant aulas crescendo conveyance, wholly abutting city lights, this chimney calling cannot sight!" Jolly pedestrians twinge at our capitol! Touring a mindful chance, Ample of verve, knowing mortuary amblers must get their fight! "Fountains, thawing ye? Janitor, what does the blind really see?" tryst squelch time, squirm squander squalors n' ante antiquated feet, Jocund or beh£s belief! Ye! Behind bellicose belletrists by beggars! When baubles full-fledged, hast consummated thee to hobnob no more, jongleur sloshed anchors on mimes bare laid laic stoolie, loupe aims, Headmost, request lasting breaths above broadcasting fortune n' fame, Then fated fires the Sniper jostles from home to goad n' prod, Ye kindred stanchion and I, skimmed, the sunset even with me...
To understand a tree how it lives in the summer fails in fall dies in the winter reborn in spring An endless phoenix cycle around and around as seasons come and seasons go summer the height of their year This summer will last, the five-year-old said the leaves will not go brown nor crackle underfoot they will not fall from the branches like wispy little martyrs the glossy green growing shivering, frail, weak. This summer will be different, the six-year-old proclaims The summer will last The grass would stay warm the sunshine would be perfect In between the pale pink blossoms and nature's own fireworks everything was green And yet despite the dreams summer would end taking away the cartwheels in the warm grass and the carefree laughter in the treetops Autumn would come with reds and golds browns and orange pulling down the green curtain of life Then, too soon, snow would come in a flurry coating the trees and the dead gray ground shining painfully in the sunlight But each frozen branch would prevail push through and grow blossoms of pink and white delicate as glass So the cycle came and went summer breezes fall storms winter snow spring flowers Now the six year old is old too old to run in the green hear the chirps of the evening crickets laughter, clear as sliver bells But she had something better now a husband so perfect and true With green eyes the color of leaves and deep brown hair like fertile soil And his laugh reminded her of sunshine bursting through a cloak of emeralds finding the child beneath He was like summer. Her summer.
Oh Mortal Man !! On this Festive Occasion I pray thee Fly away from worldly pleasures And seek out the spiritual treasures Seek not a new dress for the outer being But make anew the inner being. A spread of sweets makes life sweet But who has tasted the sweetness of the Lord?
Im going to miss all our times shared. all the memorys we created. all the laughter we had. I dont know what went wrong between us but I still know you love me. I know this pain will go just as the seasons but some seasons are long and hard. Ill miss you and love you for what I can for I know what we had was real more real then I or you had hoped for .
The ghostly courier hints at the approach of autumn, not by changing of leaves, but by mists during the heat of August softening the full moon as an impressionist would in hazy landscapes. Subtle, brief drops in temperature and early morning cobwebs warn of a change to come. The fanfare of glory in fiery color, a crescendo of the approaching season, is the final display of nature's middle years, leading to winter's old age.
I kissed a butterfly once as it fluttered by it was totally unconcerned and the kiss- a short one- I was surprised at how unselfish it was in this pause my rugged lips to hers
Mutely, they languish in embryonic earth— wait a rust of water, a red blossom bursting from screaming sepia mother.
{bee's} the dancing machines please stay away from everyone's knees you very nasty {bee's} Please please please stay away from especially my knees you very nasty and honorable theives {bee's} so please fly off to those daisies for these these these are the only way I want it to { bee's } Little Song Jenny And I came Up When She Was 4 LOL Thanks All For Stopping Also Entry For Matt Caliri's Contest Funnest-hardest Poem Ever
Lying there, with another I sought the girl-of-my-early-summer-dream I kissed her once, twice for gleam Only to find, she's not in my reality! Ah! Mademoiselle Mysteree! All heavens know that I'm her dreamer I- who took her for all I saw: A set of eyes that sang, sweetly in silken-skies With luscious-lips, made for the moon- mild and mellow… Her sacred breasts- The curves, in charms for cheered-conquest All hips and thighs, each to explore my Ecstasy! Sitting there, in my reverie I crave her whisper all day long (My night) simmered in shivery-song, yawning for sips of her morning-glee and to be blessed by Mademoiselle Mysterey! Standing there, standing still… Where I met her once in time past I kiss her once, but never twice Since she baptized me in her silence Then, now despised me just for believing her!
A week of storm clouds brooding, and now, look! the moon's hatched full.
Pools in Winter are wonderful warm, heated, and inside keeping you smiling when it's oh so cold outside reminding you Winter can't last forever soon the outdoor pools will open and we will feel the heat of Summer
Sunshine brightens sunlight down, to open marigolds delightfully around. Orange bursts fall colors to transcend to behold, through tones of yellows unto gold. Speckled birds feed on sunflower seeds, as wheat fields harvest winter needs. Taken bounty, what nature brought forth, as thanks from labored farmers; despite weather, of course. Celebrations of arrivals will be told, with bells, trees and ringing out the old. Time goes fast where the new is soon, enjoy this second for, next moment is... " Tomarrow 's Noon. "
Everyday the kindest gentleman comes to my door And asks me to join him. "No," I would always respond, "now is no the time, sir" And he would leave sadly, only to return on the 'morrow. Today is different, for today, a happiness devours me. And he came knocking, and without a word I put on my coat and we ventured together. Unfamiliar warmth follows me, as we walk, facing straight ahead, towards our promises, song echoing deep in my heart. He's so kind as I write this, and he asks if I would like to love him as he loves me. I think I shall answer yes and truly become the sunflower.
Winter is so long So cold So very lonely Oaks winter undressed limbs Stretch into the bone chilling darkness Seeking as if to be clothed She is the embodiment of my sorrow The bleakness of my empty heart Like Oak I too am barren Under this moonlit night Oaks silent limbs silhouette like a widow in black lace Entwined in the grey mist rising from the lake It looks like a backdrop for a spooky movie set I almost expect the lone ominous black cape-hooded rider To emerge through the haze with its scythe It was near here we often sat - in the sunshine Throwing bread crumbs to the ducks We laughed and kissed under Oaks green canopy Serenaded by bird song We were the embodiment of oneness Words couldn't express We just knew words were not necessary We fulfilled each other There was no want No need Except - to continue We embraced the setting sun knowing The sun rose everyday- But now Just an eerie silent grey mist rising A stark reminder Of the absence of your sunshine Your warmth- your comfort I wait solemnly- Longing for spring- For summer- © Brenda V Northeast 20th of July rewrite 20th Jan. 2012
You asked me once Simply stating 'why'? The snow is so pretty how can beauty make you cry? I don't like sleds won't catch me on skis; don't like my nose cold I prefer my skin with a sunny breeze The touch of water the sound of the waves everything dissapears; the Ocean saves I can't indulge the sea when I'm bundled in a coat I sure can't swim if my air is frozen
unhurried thoughts sweet with honeysuckle. water melon eaten down to the rine. music from a neighbors radio on a blanket under the trees. bare feet and sunburned shoulders. warm lemonade from a pitcher cracking the ice cubes in a glass. watching the clouds make curtains on the windows of heaven. a summer day.
the expectation.... is the pain i write will be only a something faintly remembered lesson learned lesson earned tied up in a scarlet ribbon in my rubble laughter in the summer yellowed as the white i wore and obscured by my view of you playing, laughing... rescuing.. and acting like we were grown- ups living a life how much better the hot summer used to get hot...wet...tanned with sweat on our lips and kissing like children at the fair playing enough not to hurt two hearts we said....... then.... Forever we spoiled the summer of 76. by janetta
when it comes to baseball there was one team that we shall remember from it's past it's the nineteen twenty seven N.Y Yankees amidst this legendary collection you shall find the hotest team that ever played baseball starting with their owner Jacob Ruppert followed by his general manager Ed Burrow not to mention the players starting At first base was Lou Gehrig rounding second was Tony Lazzeri playing shortstop was Mark Koenig and heading for third was Joe Dugan and at home plate was their catcher Pat Collins And in the Yankee outfield were right fielder Babe Ruth center fielder Earl Combs and left fielder was Bob Meusel Now let me introduce you to some of their starting pitchers we have Wait Hoyt or you may like to see in Herb Pennock or even maybe George Pipgras and if thats not good enought then they had Dutch Ruether and Urban Schocker and don't forget about the releif pitchers Myles Thomas and Bob Shawkey along with Joe Giard and Walter Beall while closing their games with Wiley Moore As one Washington Senator named Joe Judge said when they got tromped 21-1 in their game was these fellows not only beat you but they tear your heart out So From the chilling mocking Murder's Row of the dead ball era comes to you a great team of players that is now safe at home In Memory Of The 1927 Yankee's May You All Be Angels In The Outfield Also Entry To Matt Caliri's On Baseball Contest
Within the white cloaked sky Bright blue legs move beneath the cloth Transformation becomes imminent As day presents itself through flowing movement With gentle rays, like arms, pushing the cloak Eyes become affixed on the beauty of the sky As total serenity is found within the depth of color And the heat of the sun becomes a blanket of safety
The air is cold ;so is my heart the world starts to die just as I. In somberness I see the beauty of it all. the reds,oranges,browns and golds give us hope that the coming winter will help the earth regenerate, As an artist paints the wonder of the coming fall, as his eyes do see the wilderness change, so to do I. My death is my fall, my rebirth will be my winter. I hold such splendor tight to my love and close to my heart. For in truth lives life and in death lives the light. My autumn shall become what my eyes behold. an interwoven pattern of the world, a world unknown. these beatious mountains of res,oranges,browns, and golds. Now what do your eyes see in this empty land surrounded by sea.
Merry Christmas, Dad by Amy Swanson Dad, I always think of you every day... but holidays like this can make it a little harder. I hear the Christmas songs of cheer see the lights up in the square the busy murmurs of people shopping for their loved ones... It seems almost perfect. The tree, the lights, the gifts, the songs and plays joyful vacation days; but something's missing. The voice that rang throughout the house Christmas season singing triumphantly, beautifullly "O Holy Night" I still can't listen to that song without hearing your strong voice in my ears. The hands that wiped my tears, wrapped my Christmas presents made his special "banana pudding recipe" left me letters from Santa. Oh dad... how I miss you. I know they say time heals and life goes on and all those other wonderful cliches that people always tell you simply because they don't know what else to say. I will never forget you - my hero, my protector. I speak of you often to my own little girl want her to know the grandpa she can't meet yet... the grandpa who would love her so. Dad, you are always in our hearts and minds, I never got to say thank you... for everything. for helping me to be the woman I am today. I look at my reflection in the mirror - I can also see you. I sing my songs - and I can also hear you. I laugh... and sometimes I can hear your laughter too. My daughter smiles at me... and you are in her smile. I wish that you could know how much you've always meant to me and all the things that you have done to shape my life, so positively... But all that I can say, is this: Merry Christmas, Dad. I love you.
Regenerated hope, as new birth of nature begins to spring forth with warmth.
Winter closes its firm grip And sucks the warmth of the world By unleashing its frosty breath. Every trace of life shivers at the certain death Foretold in winter's icy touch. Desperate for want of spring's beauty, Green spurts of vibrant color perk up From the chilled ground layered with snow. Greedy to its last breath, Winter steals all. None can live amidst the icy encasing. None can thrive whilst winter reigns supreme. Warmth burrows deep into the cold ground To be nearer to Earth's warm warm heart. Bright bursts of color flee before the tyrannous lord. Animals holding fires of warmth in their chests Withdraw from the frigid air berating their bodies. Delicate leaves part from their mother tree And rest rejected beneath white snowy oppressors. Always winter will conquer.
It's so warm... The clouds are shifting... I can feel the bright evening sun curessing my face. The cool wind ruffels my hair. I can hear the small leaves red, brown, yellow, and orange wispering in my ears. I see them glinding down from the sky... The smell of burned firewood and fresh grass, entangling my senses, setting them aflare. Children running and laughing as the sun swifly moves behind the trees... Squires nessel in the holes of them, mouths full of stored nuts for the winter. Everyone's preparing for the coming of a new season.....except me. I want to enjoy, to engolf myself forever in this warm tingleling sensation... To be forever in Autumn.
She is the season that beguiles wisdom With ripe fresh fruit and calming breeze She is the ocean lapping at the shore Dashing back then coming forth She is each smooth pebble skimmed across the sea She is the sun, bursting through the trees She is sand castles, ice creams, and deck chairs She is the frolicking abandonment of cares She is everything; there's nothing in-between She is every fragrant flower; the perfumed air I breathe She is a lust that cannot last Cooling rapidly, a love soon past Soon her feelings will cloud over Soon the hills will lose their aroma Soon there will be nothing but withered leaves Dead rose heads and deserted trees; Soon the hunts will claim the life Of the bounding fox, with it's playful mind For she can't stay indefinitely Except of course, in memory.
We are propped in chanting Indian summer wind, fixed upon empty ribs of snow fence swaying akimbo in afternoon air, lightly touching sepia earth. As I touch you I am someone else. A new-dark wind rages through the open window. Lying here, we absorb night suspended in a high gazebo, unseen fences pushing backs, pushing us to one another; the last harvest wind jade through hands.
As we warm our souls, with the summer sun and refresh our spirits, by getting away we share together our love merging our characters for this single moment in time for one another while experiencing life's adventures as a family
daffodils nodding their heads keeping rhythm with the wind miniature white rose-like bridle veil bowing over the fence tiny wildflowers in pinks and whites happily enjoying extra hours of daylight vinca vines on the hillside in showy deep lavender sublime sunshine yellow forsythia blooms burst open on bare limbs a bushy, rose-pink japonica turns its face to the sun spring sings her anthem as soft showers begin welcoming new life to earth again
The populace is longing for spring not realizing that they are wishing their time spent. Upset with the Winter sting, they won't let Winter just vent, soon enough the snow will be gone, and winter will be done; giving way to spring showers and sporadic sunny days providing nourishment for blooming flowers. Birds return from their southern trek singing their songs as if they had never departed New life surrounds us everywhere Making days a little more lighthearted
How lovely this day is to Be With the sunshine at play Inside my heart and all Around today Feelin' so good through And through The sunshine beaming Over and around my Shoulders Yearning Wanting to explore Tiny wings takes flight Over hills and mountains Tops They soar higher and higher Over the valley deep Calling for a change Bursting shootin spouts Of love Raining down on me Butterflies at play Sipping nectar from A cup Dashing in and out of Meadows flow At play the butterflies And the wind
Nature's matriarch has dealt a harsh blow the natives struggle to survive their daily lives disrupted returned overnight to the past living as their ancestors did the warm fog of their breath quickly dissipates in the frigid air doing battle against the cold some are defeated, overcome by the mist they go peacefully in the night each morning the icy land emerges slowly cold, darkened hearths await the light one that takes many days to arrive the only heat comes from the waxy flames that warm their numbed fingertips daily they wait eeking out an existence waiting for their world to reawaken from it's winter slumber. dedicated to those individuals who lost their lives in the ice laden storm that ripped through the country January 2007
mud pies and hopscotch played in the sand nurturing guidance from my Daddy's hand butterflies and flowers my dolly and toys I left them behind to be one of the boys tattle-tales and trouble-makers were sent on their way imagination and laughter filled most of our day sibling bonding performed with a scream singing and sharing and home-made ice cream no crying nor whiners no time left to pout fearless from sun up till the last stars are out chores done for change and candy in a sack freedom and pinkie wishes till school started back
Oh! Christmas tree needles dropped branches few May the first time to get rid of you!
My goodness but its hot I'm wringing wet. "Women perspire," he said, "only men sweat." Well, guess again buddy maybe la-de-dah ladies perspire, but Real Women sweat and right now I'm on fire. In high school my mother would take me to the beauty parlor to get me a fancy dance doo and then later I'd hollar Because after a dance or two, my hair would be dripping wet. I was so embarrassed all covered with sweat. Air conditioning is just too cold and it smells funny, so I sit in front of a fan when it gets too sunny. But running out for chores in 90-degree heat is no fun at all I just come home beat. So you'all have a good summer ... and I still say it yet ... that ladies may perspire, but Real Women sweat.
The early morning sun peeks in through my window And I have to awake once sun light kisses my face The first sound I hear, and my favorite of all Are the chirping hummingbirds, resting Upon the trellis where honeysuckle winds They seem to beckon me, come greet the day!" Hurried bare feet patter on cool hard wood floor As I head towards the kitchen making sure the clock is right It's too late for breakfast, but the coffee machine softly hums Hmmm! Delicious! Coffee always smells so divine! It' not quite noon, but kids are already at the pool Splashing loudly, "Marco Polo!" They serenade There goes the ice cream truck, slowly rolling down some street Playing nursery rhyme jingles making stops along the way Children screeching, with Moms' admonishing Ice cream, for the moment, is all they can see Down to the beach, later, I am sure to go Where lively ocean waves, Smack the crowded shore As sea gulls screech, and fight over their meal And laughter erupts from kids, big and small In the cool of the evening with the sun ending its watch The smooth sounds of a lone saxophone, rides the breeze jazzy and so cool! Wafting in the air for all to enjoy All these are, my most memorable sounds of a hot summer's day!
i wonder i wander i love you i love the fact that you have no idea of who i am let's keep it this way goodbye hello
1 Beauty holds meaning too many. There is beauty in all. Beauty is captured by eyes. Love is true beauty forever. Bonding two in glorious bliss, Love is captured by the heart. Enriched by the spirit, Held in sync by touching, 2 Nature's beauty is in all seen. Embodiment, collectively, In all stages of structure Spring, summer, autumn and winter Amazing venues of events, Each with beauty their own, Empowering the next Phase of magnetism. 3 What and who knows real true beauty. Beauty to one is another's, Ugliness they cannot stand. Eyes to eyes make a connection. Heart to heart a bond forever Mind to mind develops goal Beauty of the soul guides All couples, so serene.
GLASS--glass draping. Glassbraking. Settled around the window's frame.
The night lies still, the moon hangs low Above a sparkling, softly falling snow. The pines are tipped in lacey white The sky darkened by shadowed night. Flowers of summer, blooms long past Winter approaching, coming fast. Wild birds sing, sharing winters dreams The rhythm of the season, nature brings.
vast wilderderness she lays her head moss strewn rock beds and nil vegetation in the distant the lone wolf begins to howl no sun to call her own just gotten entangled in a predators sneer shes begins gnawing frantically blood soaked coating and one less hoof to stand with this tiny deer finally had gotten freed just as I was picking up the phone to call animal control to help out one of God's own little critters Tribute To God's Critters Also Entry For Laura Mckenzie's Beyond Nightfall Contest
my son comes by and looks over my shoulder at his picture on my PC's wallpaper he analyses it carefully seeing himself as so young, so innocent he can't believe he was ever that young and innocent (he's twenty now) life spans before him like the view from a tollbooth at a suspension bridge his motor revving a little he looks at the collector in the booth then at the long span over the river of life ready to ride, he presses the gas, confidently grips the wheel and pulls away, the music in his ears © Goode Guy 2011-08-22
Waiting to be Blinded by Snowflakes of Beauty falling From the sky. Eyes squinting, Mouth opened Wide just For droplets of Frozen water to Touch the sensitive Muscles of my Tongue. Dying From dehydration With only the Intent of Catching a Beautiful Snowflake On my tongue
I look at it in awe. What could it be? The long coveted toy or a sweater knitted with love. There it sits, taunting me. I shake it, there is no sound. It is so pretty covered in greens and gold topped with a large red bow. It intrigues me. What could fit in such a box? But none the less I must wait til the morning of St. Nick.
The ice relaxes on the side of the hill as the music of water crescendos with joy; the scent of the air and upsurge of vitality emerge when spring plays her yearly role as leader of life reborn. Snow departs the trees and cascades slowly from rustling boughs; a watery chortle from a lake nearby tells the world of new life. The acorns that God planted created new homes of sturdy oak for the lesser creatures precious to Him; He watered the oaks within his greenhouse to build protection from heat and rain.
A half-drawn curtain of rain reveals through its fringes the softly silent orange light of summer desert sunset (A rainbow in the southwest sky marvels at it all) as lightning strikes up, a conversation in the language of humid warmth and storming thunder, the context of which grows slowly ever darker, until only stars are left to tell.
As I wander these verdant, pleasant grounds in the idyllic afternoons of autumn, colors abound before my delighted eyes, refreshing to behold. The temperature slowly declines as days go by, bringing about a fond dusting-off of the scarves and hoods of yesteryear, the chill returning once again to the air. My thoughts drift lazily where they may, fluttering about like the orange and yellow leaves in the breeze. Here, a memory of soft hands, warm lips, a warmer heart; there, a musing or two - what makes us love? Will it last? Seemingly of a sudden, I feel a bite on my face and realize the teeth belong to the air. It's that time yet once more - time to bid a fond adieu to the days of autumn's glow.
Autumn presses her lips to the breast of Summer. I will feed from you 'til you are no more, then shepherd you in death to a crystalline shore. The old man waits as surely as you burn. There is a time for everything and in everything we return. In light and in shadow beyond woodlands, beyond sea, there is no golden promise, only alchemy.
DEED I Be courteous and helpful to the blind woman, or man who's unable to cross the street as a scary cat; they often wait at the traffic light for the kindest person, and grasping their hand until they are over the other side, it's quite a relief! DEED II See folks struggling with the heavy grocery bags: don't be embarrassed to ask them if they need a hand to carry them to their door! DEED III Give a dollar to the homeless while catching the bus or train: " Thank you and God bless " will make your busy day! DEED IV Shoving the snow on a stormy day for the elderly who are afraid to come out: watch them smile behind the frosty windows!
That night, when the air was an azure army, a tempter, a civil delight, We stood blowing kisses (the wind stood there with us) on your porch lit by fire bug light The night settled sweet right above us, your street in a bath of a contrary glow and we spoke (how we spoke) 'till the sun almost woke up and melted us back into snow...
A tired old man walked down a snow covered street His clothes were in tatters He had rags on his feet......... It was Chritmas time in the big city. All the stores were brightly lit. There were Santas on every corner ringing their bell, hoping the busy holiday shoppers would drop a coin or maybe a few dollars into their pot. The old man was cold. He hadn't eaten in days. There was a crowd of people waiting at the bus stop at the corner. The old man approached one of the men standing there. "Please kind sir, could you please spare a few coins for a cup of coffee? It is very cold and I am very thirsty." The man looked at the poor beggar with disdain. "Get away from me you old bum" he said giving the old man a shove. The old man lay on the ground for several minutes, listening to the laughter of the people standing there. He finally pulled himself off the cold, snow covered ground and started walking down the street. He passed many people running in and out of the shops. He asked several more people for help, but he was either ignored or like the first man, they were very abusive. The old man was so tired and cold and hungry. He sat down on a crate in a dark alley. Suddenly, a bright light appeared. The old man disappeared and standing there, robed all in white, was Jesus. "Every year I come down here to see how things are going, and every year, all I find is hatred and greed. "Don't my children know that what ever they do to each other, I will do to them?' Jesus just stood there slowly shaking his head, and disappeared. The next time a stranger asks you for help, I hope you remember this little tale. You never know WHO you could be turning down. MERRY CHRISTMAS jojo7 2006
Last night ached with the fear of fall. I stubbed a toe against the dark. And then came morning, sparking ponderosa's candles one after another; igniting every living bird with the spirit of song as we tip the seasons, the sun tilting to touch each stunned tree with the amber of its sap, so it stands for the moment transparent.
warm and hazy days of gold the jewel in summer's crown unrivaled in the splendor of her burnished gown brushed with frost and falling leaves her glory much too brief the black and white of wintertime comes as natures thief only her memory remains faint in the frosty air how I long to feel again those days so warm and fair indian summer
Come on and race with this heavenly devil Watch as hail reigns on that holy umbrella You could never become a conductor of this level I only race with the devil I ain't no sinner, but don't judge me Temptation drifts toward beginners Only trials touch me Alcohol and lustful trust all through your body Like diarrhea gots a three year old rushing to the potty Ghostly stats, bitter chit chats Conquered maps bleeding on mats Hustler magazines, lonely couples addicted to claps Strapped in lubrication So I can live to climax another day White around my nostrils Maybe I'll live to quit another way Witness my enemies coming ever so toward me I'll never live to see a better Hell For death has assured me This is only a prelude to a dream Pastors and priest Never hesitate to infiltrate my schemes To get major means Reality floats above my vanilla sky's My conscience tells me Gods screaming aquapella or at least he tries Life has no scene selection or fend protection Choices of a simple election Hardships are our special features Heaven and hell have never been so neutral So come on and race with this heavenly devil
Taking time to test tradition, I entered a stage of your tragedy where high hopes ended in question marks as a mad dog bared its teeth. You asked me if I'd help you thread a needle in the dark, and when the cold steel pierced my skin, I felt your pain but I let it sting. A drop of blood upon my lips, I waited for a tender kiss, but you left me on a stairway in the rain threading needles in the dark.
There was a fire on the pirate ship Two parrots flew out like a whip Returning they squabbled on deck Feathers flew around—a shot! The moon came out and drifted With clouds moving to and fro Bottles crashed and songs rose The party continued all night It was every man for himself At sunrise a plank extended The walker, blindfolded, landed Head first on the ice—plunk! It was a pirate ship, stuck Bed of ice was all around Middle of the lake Far from the tropics Lost and off course They now burned Their last sail No wind —Stuck!
Who's this kind fellow I'm beholding @ Facebook Wearing a very nice apparel well-fitting for a Val Day's Service? Am I a genuine brother to this good-looking lady And hence where'd we quickly get to, to unite, Exchange some few words, and say a dedicatory prayer? If we'd planned to get to a brothel house some inmates There'd come fast to us, Why not forget all your norms, all raging storms Get set your tents with some little cents, take these condoms And wildly explore through whoredom? Surf with gently your web browser, launch deep, find ex-friends Without measure, Oh the pleasure, the thrill, just enjoy the Power! If we'd decided to get to the mosque, lo a most happy welcome There'd await us; we'd get some water, wash our hands, our ear-lobes, Our legs We'd get in there with our earnest songs and prayers, But remaining in separate quarters there'd be our sole choice And too difficult a solemn task. If we'd agreed to get to church ushers there'd smile with us We'd hear the din of Jesus' disciples who told the violent Blind man to live in silence, they might see us in a panorama Our blessings would seek to grab from us like clear manna, Distract our attention, retract our petition While to God we express our real penitence; And here do we stand to affirm our hearts desire We wouldn't relent in efforts our gifts to present, We'd call upon Christ, and surely get out from the mire. We wouldn't stay here long to stain the excellent aroma, On our gold, our frankincense, our myrrh. As joy and gladness are partners together May our friendship last forever; these two virtues may We never miss: Hold my hands my dear, grant me a hug My beloved, but I need on my cheeks first a holy kiss.
A special rhythm rings in the season what's called spring, It's like a gem in four seasons moulded ring, It's the gate of summer, It's the tail end of winter, It's the festival of flowers, Blossoms,with flowers the hearts of lovers Trees and leaves wishing each other in their beautiful jargons, The bumps of spring like humps in lovely songs, Springs always jump like heroes forward, Spring never in backward like a coward, In spring all botanics wearing mouthful of smile, Springs visit wrapping happiness as gifts of piles and piles!
This weekend...in the northwest .......is like october in july, why do the other states .......continue to burn and fry......
Here and now is all we have A chance to tear, a chance to laugh Reach out for something more to grasp At times I could dream upon quiet nights A happy home, Hot chocolate and faded porch lights Don't cry your tears For they'll only fade with tomorrow As time leaks, truth speaks Come eye to eye with romance A new face to meet So many peers around me Even out in the clear troubles surround me Please, don't cry your tears For they will only fade with tomorrow My hours consist of mislead love Late night clubs A few warm hugs, A couple of lonely shoulders with shrugs My peers say there's nothing I couldn't conquer Yet my popularity allows loneliness to ware on me Never could defeat my guilty conscience For now it only cares to own me But don't cry your tears For they'll only fade with tomorrow So much pressure consumes this life of mine Then again, There I go being selfish and wasting our time I'm wading through the world's insanity Yet I'm lost in my own misery Stranded tears of thee Would any of you care to see Please don't cry your tears, For they will only fade with tomorrow I'm so desperate to live long So hard to carry on, when nobody loves you I'm curious, Over the edge are they eager to shove me Say grace from above me Pick me up, dust me off, and hug me In reality it's alright to dream But above life it's broken schemes
Dark fury rages through the atmosphere, A tempest of wind, whirlwind of darkness, An eye of calm, centered within chaos, Forever winding, twisting and turning, As dark cloud flash with thunder and light up with lighting. Great clouds burst and shower down a torrent of water, The land soaked to the core, towns destroyed. Tempest fury, forever rising, Great storms a smoking Amongst the ruins of the sky, Tornadoes form, Earthquakes rattle the earth, As life is sucked from the land, Tearing crops from the field. People die within writhing clouds, Lightning strikes, mudslides, flooding, tornado. Death comes in a thousand ways, The tempest knows them all.
Nature can exist without any sunlight. The shadow is nurtured by the sustenance sprouting from the soil in the Garden of Darkness and from which grows the frondescence that nourishes our Fear. The garden is dampened by the tears of those whose shadow's grip is strong and thriving beneath the shade of the great ash trees. Their roots and their branches connect the underworld with the Gods of the earth, sky, and sea. And the shadow exists between these planes where it relies on the fruit fallen from the Trees of Life and Knowledge that faithfully grow in the Orchards of Loss reminding us, with each passing season, as, once again, the blossoms flourish among the cherry trees, that immortality exists. Morning glory withers to give way to impervious vines of insecurity that wrap tightly around a wrought iron fence behind which the Unknown fertilizes the seeds of Fear. A bittersweet aroma rises from a flowerbed adorned with Violets of Distrust and White Lilies of Lost Hope. Their scent fills the Garden of Darkness and reaches the senses of all that venture through.
If it were any warmer, it wouldn't feel like Christmas; the logs wouldn't crackle, gentle mothers wouldn't read, " A Christmas Carol " to their children... watch how they smile, everything is magical! If the snowman and the reindeer weren't on the front lawn, with lights shining on their frosty faces, nobody would stop by and look and admire a wonderland miniature! Come and I will invite you in for an eggnog, hot coffee, or tea...taste my cinnamon biscuits!
The sweet smell of pine prickles my nose. It reminds me of that summer I met you under the stars. Seems like only yesterday your strong hand grabbed mine so tenderly. With grainy sand between our toes, we walked along the moonlit beach. The ocean waves lapped against the shoreline we strolled. As we gazed at the beautiful night sky, the heavens twinkled and smiled. Morning came as I woke up in your arms. Gently a breeze flowed in through the open window. On it was carried the scent of a pine tree - the very tree that became memory's bliss.
He doesn't know them yet But they'll be here Soon He can't see them yet But they're on the way Already He won't feel them yet But they're here Now Now Here they are and Just touching him Already The way they came and Just showing up at his door Soon Here they'll stay and Just keep him company.
Like a Christmas merry-go-round this little red and green leaf swirled 'round and 'round in a tiny puddle in the wind. It reminded me of holiday cookies sand being the sugar sprinkled upon it so sparkly red and green that I could almost taste it. I had a red and green parrot once he was my holiday gift all year singing loud Christmas carols of his own spectacular making. He would have loved those cookies. Sheila Kathryn Barrera http://www.myspace.com/sheila_kathryn_barrera
Red bud trees in a sea of green White Dogwood blooming everywhere Heralding springtime to all who Live on the mountain. Blue birds build their nests Animals bring their new babies Out for all to see. Baby rabbits, squirrels, and deer All have a place on this hill. Goodbye snow and wind Goodbye dark depressing days Goodbye endless nights Hello warm inviting sunshine The earth is reborn yet again And all is right with the world.
There she lies in the sofa Reading a novel My lovely princess Born on a Valentine's Day Fair she was and cute Delicate and soft She exuded wisdom She portrayed love My Valentine pal I remember her smiles now Her solemn kisses She lived a life to her fill As I cast my mind back To the past Val seasons I spent with her Good thoughts re-echo In my mind We walked for miles We sat close to each other Beside the shore We admired God's unique creation The words she spoke On her twenty-fifth birthday Sounded so true to me "Darling, you really mean so much To me Your unfailing care surpasses My imagination Your daring strength Has brought us thus far You kept our secrets You shared them With no one else You kept me As a priceless Jewel You carried me gently In your hands" Today marks The fifth anniversary Of the day We exchanged Our espousal vows My heart is full of joy As I ponder over these things.
The holiday bells are ringing Peaceful Smiles and Joyful Bringing All is right this Holiday season For tis will be the year of giving Whiteness falls making the mood Makes all in the spirit of giving Love and rejoice For all we see is Whiteness
Floating as in a misty gloom, Peering through the obscurity, Daunting apparition above me, Shades do glimmer across heavens. Disguised from eyes, By way of the swirls between us, Summer crescent cries out. Shining upon the misty dew, Glistening upon its purity, I am here; listen to hear. My words from ancient times, Through creation, I see. Melancholies as well delight. Mystical fantasy I present. Upon appearance in dark, One appellation, Titles of many, Luna is one.
Agrarian....agriculture wet and dry affecting bolster basic grain pre-market commodity dispersal targets rift uncommonly Feedstock fodder higher priced milk,egg,cheese will future thrice upkeep livestock feel the strain lack of grain...we'll all feel the pain Corn,wheat,rice and soybean hot potato money machine pass the buck absorb the cost surcharge tacked as all not lost
FROM A RAVEN'S BACK Raven wraps me in his blackness Swoops me on his wings Glides through tumbling midnight clouds Across moonlit pine scent mountains Darts down to taunt the choleric choppy winter sea Breaks through the net of weeping mist to Boldly greet the glistening dawn-- Reluctantly he deposits me beside my darkened doorway
Wave goodbye Tomorrow Die, drown another victim in yesterdays sorrow This is goodbye tomorrow No tides to borrow So goodbye tomorrow Yesterday gone, tomorrow not shown Today just a repetition of a sinners definition My hopes shattered How do I cope with my tears and matter Drooling of fantasy's when you had her A poor mans paradise Adversity and no cares about life Living in hell and loving it Pivoting through bail and shoving it Shoulder blades cracked, collar bones crumbled Older, outdated, fact is to remain humble Cemetery lust Post marriage life and fussing is a must Burning eyelids Is there even a such thing as baby's dying of SIDDS Irresponsibility, parent-hood and no agility Rapper and murderer's Yall are cursed, so don't even refer to us I'm blessed with stress, my life's a mess But for me happiness is only a test And when you see that sudden glow in my eyes And the room flow's with goodbyes It will all come as no surprise That as I pray for tomorrow I'll be taken before sunrise And maybe I'll get to witness again his Son Rise
How thin are master's wishes when he leaves the leather leash behind! How every rutty road opens into woods pungent with smells a human couldn't fit into the nooks of his narrow nose. How slow two booted feet climb the hill when four feathered legs can catch a cloud on the fly. How soft the cry of master, so far behind, lamenting that he can't catch April; that spring won't bide.
Do you know what I'm describing? I'll give you three clues. It pitter-patters on the roof Forms a rainbow that's the truth. Do you know what I'm describing? Umbrellas are what it's prescribing. It's falling, falling from the sky And makes it hard to stay dry. Do you know what I'm describing? It's the rain and it's subsiding. Rain, rain went away Will it come another day?
warm water splashing between my toes while sitting on the dock while the kids all play football in the pool and harley dog dropping his ball in my lap wanting me to throw it in the pool it's 89 degrees this summer heat is great sipping drinks and eating snacks with friends what can be better than this?