Submit Your Poems
Get Your Premium Membership

Nature Work Poems | Nature Poems About Work

These Nature Work poems are examples of Nature poems about Work. These are the best examples of Nature Work poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

If you don't find the poem you want here, try our incredible, super duper, all-knowing, advanced poem search engine.

Details | Concrete | |

The Place that Shaped Me

  I left my
  heart   in 
 a magical 
  place. A
  place that
  holds years
 of wonder and
 awe. A place that
 knows me  better
 than any  other place
  I’ve been.  This place
  has changed me and 
     molded me into the
       person I am now.
     The forests, trees, creeks,
    and open skies instilled in 
  me a  love for God’s  works. 
The harshness of the winters has 
taught me to be patient and to endure.     My  small
town is where I  learned the  small-town work  ethic;
you don’t get what you don’t earn  and earning what 
you want takes  a little bit of  sweat  and  tears. Here
I  learned  that  you  don’t  have  to  be  blood  to  be 
family.  Brothers  and  sisters  are  made  throughout
years of school together. We relied on  each other to
be happy. This place will forever  hold my heart and
soul. I  am a small  town  girl  through  and  through. 
It’s who I will always be. Forever. Thanks IDAHO
for  shaping  me  into  something  more  than  I  was.


Details | Ballad | |

Spring

Springs around the corner
what wondrous things we'll see,
bulbs popping up above the ground
giving joy to you and me,
time to tidy up our plot, lots of digging too,
weeds to pull, beds to hoe
lots of things will have to go. 
 
You have to be a little brave
if that rose you want to save,
but you will learn that over time
you've got to be cruel,  just to be kind,

The flower beds need a tidy
take all that dead stuff off the top,
veg plots being well dug over
hoping for a bumper crop.

Seeds to sow, hope they'll grow !
then the lawn will need a mow.

And when all the hard work is done
you can sit back and be pleased, 
wind , rain and sun you have grown all you need.


Details | Free verse | |

The Color Missing

The Color Missing
Red, black, and blue are the colors of our work pens. Red is the color of the blood we spill on other people’s mistakes.  Blue is the color of the songs we sing on tax forms or pay stubs- every page has a secret melody. Black is the color of the streets we fear most. Black is the color of our signature of approval. Black is the color of our death.

‘But what about the Green pens?’ I ask. They say ‘the ink is too hard to see.’


Details | Free verse | |

Just Be

Sometimes I admire the littlest things
A simple rock. A blade of grass. 
They need no future goals, no tax exemptions
They don’t need to go anywhere or be anything
They just are. 

Sometimes, especially when I’m reading life insurance policies,
I envy the rocks and the grass
And try to be like them for a moment. 
I sit perfectly still and give myself to the wind-
And it whispers in my ear:
Just be.
And for that moment I don’t need to go anywhere or be anything.
And at the snap of my fingers, 
All the complex widgets and gizmos that make up my life
Fold into paper airplanes and fly off in the wind.

Jacob Reinhardt
10/07/13


Details | Free verse | |

My Boredom Disease

Like sick allergies, 
Boredom can be passed around
I call it: THE BOREDOM DISEASE

Like a horrid storm,
Boredom can catch you off guard
Hold on for DEAR LIFE!

Like the whooping cough,
Boredom can be serious
If I were you, I’d
Get a vaccination ! 


Details | Rhyme | |

God Has Made Everything Beautiful In His Time

“There is a time for each season…
To everything made…  
There is a divine reason.

A time for purpose under
 the heavens above…
A time for meaning from a God of love.

A time to be born.  A time to die…
A time to farm the ground
 under the beautiful sky.

A time to kill.  A time to heal...
A time to tear down and
 to build up with a passion and zeal 
 
A time for weeping.   A time for laughing…
A time to mourn.  A time for dancing.

A time to keep...
A time to throw away.
A time to tear.  A time to make amends today.

A time to get.  A time for losing…
A time to keep.  And to give
 away at our choosing.

A time for silence.  A time to speak…
A time for each hour
 and day of the week.

A time for love.  A time for hate…
A time for war.  A time for peace at your gate.

How will you spend the time
 God has given to you?
What is your choice?  What will you do???

May this be a time living in 
God’s purpose and design.
He created you and made 
everything beautiful in his time!

By Jim Pemberton  05/22/10
Read Eccl. 3:1-11



Details | Rhyme | |

THE PROSPECTOR

The Prospector: 

He packs his tack in a great canvas sack 
And then drives away in his car.
Nobody cries as they wave their goodbyes; 
They will await his return from afar.
When he reaches the track he will find his way back
With his GPS tuned to a star. 

The stories are told how he travels the road 
With constant anticipation,
He ignores the snakes as he hammers in stakes, 
On the boundary of his location 
This man has gone bush, and he shows no rush 
To return to civilization.

This modern-gold seeker, with a stick and a beeper  
That creates echoes to his ears from the ground.
On his own, he unpacks his gear from his sacks,
He’s left family and friends in the town.
Now the bush replaces their loving embraces
With an encompassing sky and a peaceful surround.

The look on his face shows nary a trace
Of emotion as he unpacks his gear.
He sets up his camp, and primes his lamp, 
Lights fire, and watches a dingo draw near.
Staring into the embers, he starts to remember 
Other campsites like the one he has here.

He wakes in the morning, stretching and yawning
As he extracts his bones from the ground.
His muscles will strengthen as the days lengthen
While he walks the grid; listening to sounds.
Bright are his eyes, as he unearths the prize
His detector, signals it there to be found.

When his eyes behold the nugget of gold
As he digs in the earth for this prize
They sparkle and shine as he takes out his twine,
Knotted, for measurement of size. 
The tail of his shirt removes unwanted dirt
And hessian covers rock from prying eyes

As he looks to the ground; there is more to be found!
Shards that catch the bright setting sun. 
He puts some in a pot, then marks this fine spot,
So he can find it again when he’s done.
For the task of recording his find in the morning,
He must leave; he feels he should run.

From the past he has learned, he knows he’ll return
After the assayer sees what's in his sack.
There is quiet celebration, with this revelation
As he phones his partner to say she should pack.
They both go to sign on the dotted line,
Then together they travel the track back.

Wordancer


Details | Rhyme | |

THE EARTH

I can not help but wonder
When God created the earth
How did He think of all the things
It takes to make it work

I know God is God
And He knows all things
But the things I've been a witness to
How do they work I mean

The lava boils deep in the earth
Why does it need to leave
And when it does break through the crust
It becomes a volcano to us

It has destroyed all in its path
What of the hole it leaves behind
The cavity eventually caves in
And then the mountains do begin

Mean while the surface heals itself
The wind and rain step in
The soils that are blown and washed in
Help heal the scars again

What of the ash from the volcano
As it infiltrates the air
As it settles it brings death
Such as ASH FALL in Nebraska 
Where the rhino's met their end

And what of the earth quakes
As the earth seems to shake in pain
The cracks that they leave behind
Form gullies and ravines

The oil, the gas, the silver, the gold
The floods, the tornados, the drouths, the cold
Fires caused by lightenings sting
Are all under Mother Natures wing

The animals before man's time
Lived and died as was designed
And still the earth went on and on
And healed it self from dusk to dawn

And now that man is here
It has to work harder
It is there to heal the wounds
That man seems to father

Then we have the food chain
Land and water both provide
And if man doesn't watch his step
Fathom waits outside

Now and then it does rebel
It gets the upper hand
Tornados, blizzards, hurricanes
Volcanos and desert sand

The scars the wars do leave
Mother Nature does her best
If only we'd learn to live in peace
She could take a rest

And all the stupid things man does
Like building homes along a high cliff
Then when Mother Nature does her thing
Bet you can guess who takes the blame

The heavens, the earth were made by God, 
And for eons they did survive
Then God created man, 
If they don't work side by side
Neither of them will abide

I guess I answered my own question
I just had to use my brain
Thank You God for all Your help
I hope it's not in vain


Details | Acrostic | |

FANCY

...Formidable treat he stress
At the early hour of this day.
No pain, no gain- All is still well.
Centenary dream is a luxury few can reach.
Yours truly, let your fate decide. 

_____________________________________

30th of April, 2013.


Details | Dramatic Verse (Verse Drama) | |

The Rain and Wind

The wind blew events all over the place.
Intense emotions and it gave chase.
Lightning lighting to show us the sky.
People try to sleep and not cry.
Wisping by the wind keeps us awake.
The time trying to sleep the storms take.
Chills in everyone gives all shiver.
The clouds surrounded by moonlight is silver.
Heavenly prayers that the rain will stop.
The flood stopped a car the person in it was a cop.
People have seen such devastation.
The road that people made was week in creation.
Rivers near by was over flowing.
Trees that were there was not showing.
By the hour it claimed many.
My father woke up and did not see any.
Floating by was a boat.
Keeping people above water and a float.
My father kept a canoe.  
That some day we would use it, that he knew.
Time to paddle up and down the street.
The rain water kept getting on our seat.
It was so dark after the moon was behind the cloud.
Still the noise of thunder still covered the ears loud.
The smell of moist water never seem to go away.
My brothers seem to still sleep anyway.
My head was bobbing up and down.
I was so tired that I could not hear a sound.
The wind blew back and fourth.
It seems that my mom and dad paddle their worth.
Till all the people we saw with grace.
Help us out with embrace.
The time was so late at night.
Everyone was so sleepy and losing sight.
The fight with the weather was so hectic.
The feelings of energy was electric.
Losing to such natural disaster is hard to understand.
When people working hard to block the river with bags of sand.
With hard workers like my mom and dad.
They make things happen that is not bad.
Rough with weather they experience more than ever.
Leaders they are they are very clever.
From the night light of street lights to the morning glow.
The wind did not stop so.
Bringing in more clouds that ill.
The people who were still tired still had will.
The rush of water and waves blasting push the wall side.
Pushing and the force brought water inside.
The battle of our hour was getting long.
Backup people came to aid us was strong.
Rested they were to keep everyone with hope.
The people stopped the water with the strength of rope.
Heavy rain and loss of homes bring people together.
It is kind of sad that this was the only time to gather.
Chaos comes happiness how true.
This is why we are human that gives us a clue.
It is our nature to keep rain falling.
To know when it is time for our calling.
The winds bring such pain and sorrow.
That is why rain sometimes fallow.








Details | Haiku | |

ZOOKEEPER

Lookin' after pests
Keepin' a CLOSE eye on 'em
"Those wild animals!"

Roamin' around zoo
Searchin' for sneaky monkey
Hidin' in a tree

Zookeeper gets mad
"Where's Marty, the smartypants!?"
"He TOOK my cage keys!"


Details | Epic | |

A Legend to Recall

Wagari Maathai,
Boldness,eagerness,harmless
Was for a benefit,
Through melancholy,
You paved in,
To nail down the,
Green glamor.

You turned into waterworks,
When the cut down
Was on process.
Jubilant than ever
when germination flourished.

Likes tots
You looked after,
To see none but their growth,
The nourishment you fought for,
Regardless of the circumstances.

Down to your end,
Still showed your solicitude
that the woes came directly from your heart.
Weeps, for our well being,
wails, to ensure we received raindrops.
Confidently you battled,
To ensure no dry day approached.

Your deeds reached accross generation,
A total mother of nature,
A legend never to be forgotten.
We will live to remember
Your wonderful work.ag


Details | Lyric | |

Envy

A day in the country

I went to the country
To see my Bro's Land
I saw he had worked hard
His land looked so grand
For a second this envy
It tapped on my soul
But then I looked deeper
Saw things as a whole!

I looked at his features
All the lines on his face
Not character lines
Those lines that add grace
Just sad saggy lines
From worry and stress
There was naught in his manner
That read happiness.

I’m a loser to his type
I have no ambition
I live for today
He lives for his mission
But I have a smile
And a generous heart
While he, how I see him
Is a grumpy old fart.

10 August 2013 @ 1700hrs


Details | Senryu | |

Two Worlds Colliding

ONE five-minute break
at work playing games, mistake
exaggerated

butterfly dreams cease
cocoon gone in a heartbeat
catepillar weeps


8/5/12
For Russell's "Two Worlds Colliding" contest
Black Eyed Susan


Details | Quatrain | |

Volcanic Fury

Deep within the bowels of the earth
a pressure builds up in intensity
As lava and gases increase in growth
bubbling and seething with angry fury

The pressure continues to build up
directly under the earth's crust
Which finally weakens and blows its top
yielding to the pressure's upward thrust

The action produces a huge crater
through which ferocious flames exit
Painting the sky in a red orange colour
in an awesome fiery exhibit

It's a grand display of fireworks power
generated by Mother Nature
Which reaches out both near and far 
in testimony of its grandeur

Clouds of ash and smoke rise up to the sky
spreading for miles and miles around
Obscuring vision both far and nigh
before most of the ash falls to the ground

A thick outpouring of red hot lava
scorches everything that lies in its path
Streaming down the sides of the crater
as it moves on with relentless wrath

Volcanic action has an awesome tale to tell
of what goes on under earth's placid shell
It's where red hot lava and gases dwell
which when released create a fiery hell 


Details | Narrative | |

RAMBLINGS

It was just another December day
Not cool yet - due to global warming they say
I’d taken leave and was feeling restless at home
A bit depressed and all alone
Stepping outdoors would do me good
Walking some miles would change my mood
As I stepped outside and turned right 
The sun was bright and gradually reaching its height
Past the kids I walked, who were out at play
And headed for the busy highway
Walking along the asphalt road
Past the hospital crowd of anxious faces of young and old
Crossing giant pillars rising from the ground
Supporting prefab blocks and tracks on which carriages would move around
Changing gradient and plunging underground
Carrying masses to work or passengers homeward bound 
Not finding my rhythm, I retraced my steps
And headed west, to a lake which comforted me in bygone days
The park around lay ravaged by our man made ways
Trees which survived and construction equipment were cloaked in a dusty haze
The Metro eventually would connect the city’s east to the west
For now, winter’s migratory birds have forsaken this haven of roost and rest
And we are anxiously awaiting this work to end
Allow time for Mother Nature to heal and mend 




Details | Sonnet | |

True to life


Get-go scrupulous attention, 
live to cornucopia,
Coherence in familial bonds 
must ever stay,
Romantic evening is 
reminiscent of happier times,
Are the ones standing by you 
on your final day!

Guileless life, a battlefield of 
every Titan,
For evolution of the race, you 
ought to play,
Contentious hard work makes 
it iridescent,
Hypothecate moulding for 
betterment as if in clay!

Sun gifted you its brightest 
sunshine,
Fragrance added through each 
breathful air,
Brew your friends well for a 
perfect wine,
Appreciate nature add up to a 
day's debonair!!

Life is fugacious yet addicting, 
its secrets camouflage,
Adopt blithesome attitude, 
risible for a hearty laugh !!


Written by - Dr Upma Sharma
Contest name- Take two
Sponsor- Nette onclaud
On 03/4/14

Previously entered into 
Shakespearian Sonnet competition 
sponsored by Karen Puff,
Written actually on 26/1/14

















Details | Sonnet | |

The Last Vessel


There is a brush of wind sweeping roughshod over the shore
Festering foamy white caps on the crest of the waves
Disembodied voices I think I've heard before
Are rising from the mist of the liquid haze

White-feathered angel wings spreading wide and low
Swoop down below the angry crimson wide
Welcoming  home the trollers, row by weary row
As the beacon skims the waters, and the coming of the tide

The sun is clinging helplessly, on the edges of the earth
As one last vessel, trudges in, looking  worn and spent
Lagging far behind, and longing home and hearth
Yet with sense of work well done, after long day's sweat, 

It burrows in, at end of day, from all those travels, far
The one last vessel, weary worn, cuts a furrow in the stars





For Francine's Contest :"On The Ocean Waves"


Details | Quatern | |

A Script To Read Again

This is a script to read again Its wordings are clear- no blunder Each page on its own is a sane It has distinct words to ponder I’m yet to find its replacement This is a script to read again It’s obvious in its endowment A script fit beyond thousand reigns With what I've seen, I've much to gain Those about lives before our own This is a script to read again Can any author beat this Lone? In everything it’s just the star I think its lost can’t be regain It’s the same here and in Dakar This is a script to read again.
28/5/2013


Details | Haiku | |

wish it were picked

pure and white as snow
cotton stands waiting in field
boll weevil munchies


Details | Haiku | |

The rancher


morning frost twinkles
      while rancher sips coffee and
              whiffs new arrivals


Details | Dodoitsu | |

Botanical Duet

doditsu

Nature knows that smell forbids.
Marigolds repel aphids.
Reflex magnet finds its match
in your berry patch.



Details | Free verse | |

Ranch Hand Sunset.

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. 


Details | Rhyme | |

Rowdy Racecar

ZOOOOOOOMING speedily…
Tires squeaking from exhaust… high in volume 
Racecar spews out smoke…
Blinding the eyes of a thousand fans

Blooming havoc…
Explosions avalanche downwards 
Racecar drives fast and furiously 
Awesome feelings launch through me
Projecting panic and twisted bliss  

Catching the audience’s full attention…
Tension between challengers increase
Who could stand in their way… not even the coaches
Racecar screeches on the racing street…
Ain’t this competition neat? Come! Take a seat!
This event is brilliant – it’s such a treat!

Producing thrill or disappointment…
Car organs, fragments, shards, remains, limbs, veins 
Spurts out in flames… flying at every possible direction 
Countless racecars… barely functions – this scene is extremely horrendous!

Yet, the victories are gracious!
Vibrant applauses and thanksgiving triggers enlightening cheer
Have no fear!!! 
The moment is ever so precious!

Racecar…you make so much racket and suspense!
Rowdiness is in your nature…who will pay the expense??


Details | Verse | |

A Bondage To Work

Work, work, work, 
bare back down, 
across the boardwalk,
to the bone, I walk, 
which brings These days 
of slavery, but now BeHeads,
my flesh, to survive, 
Countless nights, 
no sleep, To rest my eyelids, or head,
though It's kept me from, lack
Of retirement, I no Beg, No More,
Touching, doors, to my,
peaceful home,Tis thee way, 
of pride, I betroth Of supporting, 
beloved ones, who Await my 
Return, for them, I do
because there's Nothing more, 
I'd like to see, than A smile, or 
A warm greeting, home, as
my wife, stands beside me,
Where Children play, I catch 
Width,Hand out,and arms extended,
Waiting, For their hugs with A smile,
HURRAY Daddy's Home, at last I say,
Another day, Bites the dust, 
back to work tomorrows, I go,
Paying mortgage to its bitter end,
As my obligation, I have A bondage,
To work, I pray my lord, protects, with
Constant blessings, for he is the guidance,
That holds it altogether...



Details | Verse | |

That lost, Must Be Found

That moment we forgot what we did saw.
This no doubt our memory have failed us,
A signal that the time will not be thaw,
That moment we forgot.

When all throbbing has come and nestled, thus
The thing we saw reappears as its raw,
Then nothing can stop that call behind us.

Not lost memories are what we keep as law
The forgotten will haunt back as pulse
Highest shade, most lightening will tour and saw
That moment we forgot.


Note: Form of poetry used in the piece is a 'Roundel' form of poetry.


Details | Narrative | |

The Song Of David

Enlighten days have past
He comes excel in all, so he thinks
"I am greater than man,
I know what ignorant man does not.
Come to me for knowledge unsurpassed!".
He points to the blue heaven,
"Where is thy wisdom? For I know all.
Where is thy command? That makes the ground shake
And brings forth water that lives?"

At the great gatherings,
He flocks the shepherds, blind, mute and deaf  
He answers to the multitude of questions
He asked the shepherds, "but what are thy questions?",
“I know not what do ask a man of your wisdom, but what  is a dream?
What is life?” asked the young herdsman.
"I know not what you speak of", said the Man.
"I only know what i can feel, touch and see"

"A dream is dream that passes us by, like gentle breeze of fresh spring.
Life holds all things mystery and doubts.
Shepherd knows to flock, not life or dreams".
"The shepherds are those who are humble, noble one", said the herdsman
"The blind cannot see, the mute cannot speak and the deaf cannot hear".
"Who are you preaching to? Silent and amaze, the man looks on.  

"If the blind could see you, 
They would say, 'look here is the man who tried to humble the blind
For they can see what others cannot,
If the mute could speak, they would humble you!
And if the deaf could hear they would shamed your wisdom".
"Was I a fool?" said the Man "or are you not that young herdsman?
Who knows nothing of life and passes his days tending the sheep's?
What could you learn from such simpleton life?"

"Life I live is simple indeed, 
No one knows that the shepherds are those who protects the weak"
"Nature is a friend of the shepherd; we sing the song of David
And rubs the olive oil to our young sheep, to keep away the flies".
Insulted, the man's fury turns over to the young herdsman
"Nature? Protect the weak? The song of David? Flies?
How can nature befriend a lonely shepherd? Protect who?
Song of David the Shepherd who became the king? 
What flies would harm the young flocks?"

The young herdsman smiled at the frown face of the man,
Left without a word
The blind, the mute and deaf ignored the man.
An unyielding shame kept the man humbled
He wonders why the young herdsman smiled about.
He came about a bridge and crossed the rocky roads
On the hill top he stood 
And saw the young herdsman singing the Song of David.


Details | Haiku | |

Summer Dandelion

dry brown summer grass dandelions gone to seed goldfinch eat their fill


Details | Narrative | |

Iris of Poetry

Introduction: We don't really think deep enough about "What A Poetry Actually Is", the
obvious question which we all know but don't think how to really elaborate on. We mostly
see the story, depth and the purpose it delivers. Well, here's one a little bit different
this time...



Poetry is the reflection of our lives like in the mirror,
It is something we can relate to and share.
It's our memories written in jumbled words,
It's like a song, with a meaning it holds.

A mere idea of our mystical lives,
Expressed in a way from deep inside
A way which only the heart can see,
A place where the eyes get cold-feet

The earnest truth and the sweetest lies,
It's all the irony that makes poetry so alive.


Details | Lyric | |

AUTUMN'S TREADMILL

Light is fading
It’s cold, abrasive
Facing longer nights
Green leaves mellow
Brown and yellow
Autumn has arrived

Misty mornings
Clock alarming
Body sense awry
Feel so jaded
Last night’s raving
Flashing through your mind

Drink hot coffee
Rush to catch the
Seven thirty-five
On the treadmill
Routine, thankful
Work keeps hope alive

Simply crazy when, every now and then
You want to bash your head against the wall
No longer feeling worth it all
Like you always thought you would

You live the life you choose
Or are you being used?
Now faking it, doesn’t raise a hit
You forfeit all or run with it
Lucky to be paid
And maybe later, dream of getting laid

Light is fading
It’s cold, abrasive
Facing longer nights
Green leaves mellow
Brown and yellow
Autumn has arrived


Details | Free verse | |

From her Cocoon

She sits over her writings, a chrysalis, a solitary form.
All of her adventures are tucked in her mind this morn.
Her poetry is meant to half make you laugh or weep.
Her stories are soulful with multiple twists to reap.
Her husband peeks at her ideas before going to work…
She can’t wait to discuss the results back and forth.
She’ll revise a little, but not the main inspirational theme.
This poem is the result of a days’ insightful dream. 

She’s a butterfly who may never come out from her cocoon.
But she’s safe, warm, and happy… with your reading a boon.
There are always those admirers awaiting her final results.
Like a butterfly’s wings the words tarry, till they finally bust forth.
She helps others understand… they’re not alone…any more…
With a moment of her presence and beautiful, unfurling heart.
Then she’ll hide away back in her cocoon till when…
She’ll awaken, forever beginning the cycle… anew, again.

 


Details | Free verse | |

Peace to One and All

Be careful
I said carefully come nearer
Be careful
I said carefully take my sword
Be careful
I said carefully read my lip
Be careful
I said carefully draw my sword
Be careful
I said carefully pierce my body apart from my soul
Be careful
I said carefully send me there now...

Why do you withhold?

Be careful
Have your sword, shield it
And have your seat

Politics has not completely darken my heart
I still sense the part I belong
I know I aren't born this way
I know I aren't call to this way
I know God don't support my way-


Bloodshed day and night 
All in the name of satisfying
Whims and caprices of the few

The world led with the words of the opportunist
And built by struggles and sacrifices of the full

Since you are now born again

  Be careful
  I said carefully come nearer
  Be careful
  I said carefully take my sword
  Be careful
  I said carefully read my lip
  Be careful
  I said carefully draw my sword
  Be careful
  I said carefully pierce my body apart from my soul
  Be careful
  I said carefully send me there now

  Why do you withhold?

  Be careful
  Have your sword, shield it
  And have your seat

  Politics has not completely darken my heart
  I still sense the part I belong
  I know I aren't born this way
  I know I aren't call to this way
  I know God don't support my way-


  Bloodshed day and night 
  All in the name of satisfying
  Whims and caprices of the few

  The world led with the words of the opportunist
  And built by struggles and sacrifices of the full

  Since you are now born again

Be careful
And carefully convey my message to those privilege few
Be careful
And don't change my words
Be careful
And listen carefully
Be careful
And tell them I said...

Peace be upon thou
That values this singular word in action
Who give room for this course to thrive
And carry the day

Peace be upon those 
That gives it a chance
The Word in question is PEACE

Peace and Unity is what I preach

Carefully
Convey my message to one and all.


Details | Free verse | |

Dawn Citadel

Wet furrows slowly churn, his plough horse snorts,
a farmer walks, lost to his morning world.

Clay sticks, yellow to the disc, he kicks at it,
the dawn sky is his citadel.

Harsh days, like summer, blaze in his memory;
confined to this land, his earthly flesh has made a pact.

 His arms are held like tree boughs.

 Suzanne Delaney


Details | Alliteration | |

No Title

My bed is anxious,waiting for my snores Today's going to bed, tomorrow's a few steps ahead I wonder why I took "the" pen I feel like putting them down What? My thoughts What am I inking? Nothing! Exactly! Just wanna scratch my itchy paper with my juicy ink Singers? Go sing... Comedians? Go do comedy... Others? What's your "itchy paper?" Have you applied your "ink?" Be good at what you do Love what you do Practice... Go scratch it!


Details | Prose Poetry | |

CharlaXTitles11

 
Inches make feet without inches there is no foot without beginnings there is no work without measure there is no dearth without a ruler there is no worth there must be rules and there are rules but eye will let them all apply to them my enemies at work and never eye. The horse runs well it has a heart so then they fill syringes from the start to inject the muscles of the neck to make the beast faster than the wind oh heck the animal is dead it never hit the ground but flew too fast and lost the race and life. Desert life is winterless but not without some weather life the sun is always shading and the water is found in sub altern placing near the animals for killing under the ledge of apprehension near the fire of desperation comes the frog and toad and watercrest nut sandwiches. Eye had been to the desert on a horse with no namme it felt good to be out of the rain. Voices come out at me from the air into mye membrain eye call it Disraeli musick it is usually someone in the area with a boom box or even cars with the windows rolled down can be the culprits they hound me when eye am hicking place to place. There is other answers to the crazxy place eye hear noises mad mostly by people in the other cubicles the walls are just invisible the talking is allowed. The thief cannot sneak in sneakers they squeak like he is sweating in his shoe laces. This brings me to mye priority eye. The reason that no one wants to be a Detective is the movies the guy may have had DAMES by the score but he had fights and was so sore the men were ruthless and left him spinning on the side of every road. The streets of New Nuevo York has gum shoe on them. The American idea of Indians and wampum has brought us to the test of food in rest or rants of foreign style they smile and bring the menu back to make certain that the orders write the man has pointed several times at five bills a whack. One from Column A and 2 from Column B brings us to a bill of $23. Well eye wanted some meat too but you are so expansive. Rice and curry hot mustard radishes. Try finding food in the summer time how careful now that eye a homeless one should be then tossing caution to the winding blowing wind when it seems only wrapped so tightly to keep flies at night away. To feed myself is easy to offer some to others almost impossible a few times eye have asked to share they slide that nostril in the air and leave the food to the one that found it in the lair of tossed and discarded things the general city the loose leaf cabbage so nicely adds a bite to the membrain of mye priority eye. 


Details | Rhyme | |

Sunrise and Sunset contest

                                 Driving to work on a spring day,
A masterpiece is painted with a tint of sun ray,
    On the parkway, going fast
              Colors from heaven I seem to pass,
Yellows and blues bring joy I cannot refuse,
Oranges and white, make my travels bright,
     I can taste the beginning of the dawn,
           Knowing there’s purpose for all that have been born,
Fire ignites while the world arises,
Preparing me for the days surprises,
Refreshed and awaken,
By the glory that I see,
Each layer of color
Whispers to me,
Senses are keen,
As the sky glistens and gleans,
Just another reminder that we were not made to be machines.
                        Driving home from work on a spring night,
Overwhelmed by an artist’s delight,
On the parkway, going fast
      When suddenly my heart can barely grasp,
                 Colors from God that seem to consume,
Any trace of my day that brought me gloom,
Penetrating purples, pinks and reds,
Peirce my soul, as my eyes are fed,
            If angels were finger painting,
                        The sky would be their canvas,
A gift from the divine to remind us of his bliss,
Cherry blossoms reflect the evening sky,
         As the long day says its goodbyes,
         The darkest blues of the deepest sea,
          Gently remind me that I am free.

By: Sabina Nicole


Details | Rhyme | |

Frosted Frescos

Mister Jack Frost stealthily visited me again last night.
When I awakened from my slumber I saw to my delight,
(Like sparkling bubbles in a fine effervescent champagne),
Splendid frescos that he had etched upon my windowpane!

No mortal artist could e'er portray, no matter his ingenuity,
The feathery touch of Mister Frost's brush with such acuity!
Sunbeams playing on my windowpane brought his work to life,
Accentuating wonderful geometric designs so very, very rife!

In my imagination I saw palm trees swaying in the breeze, and,
Waves rushing t'ward the shore, breaking on the golden strand.
I saw forests of trees, their branches reaching for the sky,
And a rippling stream with a rocky tor towering nearby.

Cathedrals flaunt gorgeous stained glass built by the masters' guild,
And by their handiwork, the teeming masses have been thrilled.
But Jack Frost's lovely handicraft that adorns my windowpane,
Outshines the work of mere artisans whose work seems so mundane!

Alas, Old Sol quickly melts away that fleet and mystic painting.
Only tiny rivulets of water like parting tears are now remaining.
Ah! But never mind, Jack will be back to delight me tomorrow morn,
With another of his magnificent vistas my windowpane to adorn!

Robert L. Hinshaw, CMSgt, USAF, Retired
© All Rights Reserved


Details | Free verse | |

The Wonderful Lens

A number of tasks to handle,
and not even a space left to enjoy,
as the work needs to be completed,
as fast as it can be done,
in spite of the hard work,
we do daily,
we do need some respite, 
and these could be done,
in a number of ways,
by walking,
or jogging
or by watching television,
or by watching films,
in the multiplexes,
those which lie in every nook and corner of the street,
but some derive pleasure,
through travelling, 
others by travelling through the forests,
accompanied by a special companion,
some large and some small,
known as the camera,
taking a step at a time,
as silently as possible,
as to not to wake up the wild living in here,
by capturing the photos of these lovely creatures,
living in here,
some of the these wonderful creatures are seen,
roaming as freely as possible in the wild,
look how carefree they are,
but their ears are opened quite wide,
to heed for any danger,
heading their way,
it’s time for me to return home,
from the wild,
as it is time for me to deliver,
these photos to my manager,
as this has been my job,
for which I do get paid for,
to look after my family,
I do need to hurry,
as I do not travel by four wheelers,
or two wheelers,
as the pollution created by these,
could endanger the wild living in here,
I do travel far and wide,
with my bicycle,
for all the work I do, 
and I do not mind this,
as my love for the wild,
exceeds boundaries forever!!

From:-Mr. Manu Nair.


Details | Rhyme | |

I once saw two ants

I once saw two little ants
one in front and one in back
carrying on a small dance.
For the front ant was quick
as they carried a beetle load
often the back would slip.
Racing to the front from behind
the back spoke to front in excited terms
giving a piece of his ant's mind.
Cooperation is what gets job done,
gets the meal home,across this driveway, 
out of this hot sun.
So learned from little ants
when I looked at life's little items
and I saw little ant's dance.


Details | Rhyme | |

The Gardener

Devoted is the gardener Who makes the flowers grow She tills the Earth and plants the seed And nurtures what she sows She cultivates the naked earth And tills it in her hand The blossoms that her work brings fourth Will decorate the land She labors each and every day From dawn 'til setting sun The gardener is vigilant Her work is never done She's one of nature's instruments A planter of the seed A prophet of divine intent A disappearing breed Though her hands are worn and calloused She has no time for rest She is part of something greater Her labors have been blessed And when her earthly toils are done She'll rest beneath the sod Then awake in a new garden Prepared for her by God
This is dedicated to my Grandmother, Beatrice Spencer 1909-2003. She is always in my heart. Her gardens were always colorful, and beautifully maintained. She was a marvel, and the world is a far less vibrant place without her.


Details | Haiku | |

GRASS

Rain falls from dark clouds
Making the grass grow faster
I just hate mowing


Details | Narrative | |

Balance Within

Introduction: Even if you're tied to barely holding on, your control over will power shall pull you up towards the truth and success. But only if you believe up to all, that it's stronger than what you could be - that's when you balance the fall...




You may get old
Your memories may drown,
But your soul won't get cold
And beliefs won't breakdown.

Just don't you let go
As you never know,
Things you seek for all your years
They could be in your back yard.

Find the truth within the lies,
Fight your pride to end this cry,
Trust your soul; open the door
Balance yourself and roll the stones.

The one's you heart will always stay
So don't throw life out your doorway,
Life's too short and it's too real
Sometimes it's hard to see and feel

That's how you live a life,
The risk that breaks you down to bits
Saves and brings you back alive,
That's what we call the gift of life.

No matter how rough things might get
We get rewards for the risks we take,
No matter how hard or sad
Learn and value what you have.

Though, too much pride will leave you dried
Don't let 'hopeless', be your life's stride,
None of this will you take to grave,
Your deeds will lay, only your pave.

As you breathe in and do breathe out,
Make each one profound
And stand your ground,
As lies are just the fantasy,
The truth - is your ecstasy
And this will forever be plain to see... 


Details | Rhyme | |

Battle of the poets

If Simply…..
All mortals could really sight
The greener immaturity of grass
Not just mere toil to feet
Of such as to graze concrete
To stand and examine
Instead of unswerving past
Or conscience of view
To an open setting so blue
Therefore it be my belief 
As to when us poets do meet
That surely we’ve some work to do!

If Simply…..
All mortals could take pace
That is tardiness to time
Not instantly seize upon a seat
Admit surrender to defeat
Maybe to listen without speech
No talk just mime
Or acknowledge thoughts to score through
To where no man has flew
Therefore it be my belief
As to when us poets do meet
That surely we’ve some work to do!

If Simply…..
All mortals could give riddance
To the bustle of frustration
Not to create necessitate to compete
Then latent in dotage touch grief
So I inscribe to you all
My poetically skilled fellow man
Lets show to forget of when why and who
Lets set emotions past and pastures set new
Therefore it be my belief
As to when us poets do meet
That surely “together” we’ve some work to do!


Details | Rhyme | |

The Elements

One day Water said to Earth
“I ruled long before your birth,
I was here first, I hold the key,
Bow down to my seniority”
Earth replied to water with a laugh
“I paved my own path!
You may have been here first, it’s true,
But in the end my might bested you.”
The oceans swelled and roared
And the skies, they violently poured
As Water threatened to once again drown
So then Air jumped in with a frown
“Must you two always bicker?
This fuss will cause Fire to stir,
We all know what a bother he will be,
So please agree to disagree, peacefully!”
But the intervention came much too late
As Fire awoke with a blazing shake
“Who was here first, that’s no victory,
Not when there is a force as great as me!”
Fire began to swell with pride
Until Water doused him in her tide
Earth laughed with a great big rumble 
Filling Water with rocky crumble
Water replied with a great big wave
Leaving Earth’s garden naught but a grave
“My flowers! You have drown them all!
With that Earth shook down a great waterfall.
Water cried out, for she was undeniably vain
Without it she felt quite plain
Fire, still upset over the blow to his pride
Joined up and took Earth’s side
The three began to unleash their wrath 
Destroying much in their explosive path
Until Air decided that she had had enough
And she blew with one mighty puff
To pieces the Earth fell with a bash
And Water flew back with a crash
Fire shrunk into a tiny light
And Air took advantage from the break in the fight
“Why must you always try to be superior?
When we got along, things were merrier.
We work so much better 
When we work together!
Earth, you and Water pave the way
So the creatures of the world can live every day!
And Fire, you are needed just as much
Life would perish without your warm touch.”
Water ran smooth, feeling foolish
Such destruction was never her wish
Earth grew still similarly,
“I am so sorry,” said he.
Even Fire seemed to feel some shame
As he all but extinguished his flame
The elements worked together once more
Another quarrel added to the stories of lore


Details | Prose | |

Souls On Fire

We have been observing the expanse of the parched land for many years, a land that stood the test of time and captivated by myriad dreams unfolding through the footsteps of the ages thus penetrating our lives. We gazed at the vast mountains and high lands with its luscious vegetation stretching thousands of miles from across them, Autumn on one side, Summer on the other, and Spring reluctantly emerging from a gruesome Winter that paralyzed the inhabitance of nature, stripping it from its wholesome prominence while it convalesce from the battered and bruised earth. 

We languished at the sudden disappearance of the water valley and the vast landscape around it. As far as our mind could reach, and as far as our feet could travel we trod upon the visible land within our reach. Land that has never been inhabited stared at us; land that has never been farmed is waiting to be ploughed. I could hear my great, great, grandfather and my grandfather before him shouting at the boys to get out of bed, harnessed the horses and start plowing the land again. 

We reminisce over acres of lands that our ancestors have fought for, land that spilled blood and claim the lives of innocent souls and fearless warriors, land that expands from ten generation, stood before us bare and empty, weeping for the souls who have fought furiously to preserve them. 

This land that has fed us for more than a hundred years lay waste before our naked eyes, the land that God gave us to feed the next generation has been sold out to strangers. The land is infested with dilapidated old building and at the whistle of the wind they are destined to collapse. They spread out all around the city and is inhabited by ruthless strangers and priced high despite their aging structure.

We lament the days spent on this land but foresee hope for the future. We searched for the farms, but they have disappeared, we look for the streams but they have dried up. Our bodies are polluted with toxic substance from contaminated food washing up on our shores from the other side of the globe, food unfit for human consumption have replaced the natural food on our grandfather's farm.

Oh great God that watches from every corner of the earth, extend your mercies and cause the land to flourish once more. You have given us land so that we can eat; you have given us land so that we can have enough in time of drought. You hold the universe securely in the palm of your hand and expand it so that it can reach everyone. The land is precious in your hand, no one can bargain for it and no price can be paid for it. 

When everything is stripped away, and the money diminishes, when our strength fails the land is here to stay. This is the land that will feed the younger generation; this is the land that will produce our crops. Powerful God, proliferate the land once again, mend the broken edges, and rescue your children who have been doped with hatred, intoxicated with bitterness and sedated with evil desires. Empower them and eradicate the poisonous substance from their perishing souls.

We gazed at the vastness penetrating the earth, and see land waiting to be occupied exposed to brutality, exasperate with atrocities and evil works. Great big God, save your children from the open gutters and trenches that awaits them, save the mothers, their suckling and toddlers who have been ravished from their homes and recruited into ruthless activities to torment and demoralize innocent people’s minds. Save them from the snares that await them, the tribulations surrounding their homes and the pestilence that seeks after their souls. 

We traveled the entire land, and hear you calling out the young men to till the ground. We can hear you beckoning the young men to throw down their weapons, clean up the garbage and farm on their grandfather’s land. They can hear you but they are too fragile to comply; they have weakened themselves with substances that make them vulnerable and unreliable. Emerge you powerless youth, transpire from your defenseless state, purge your body with clean drinking water and start cultivating the land again.
 
What else do we have but the land that you have given us? No one can take it away from us because it belongs to you. Strengthen the young men to till the land again and plant on fruitful ground. Bless the earth, and endorse it with your favor, thank you for this journey you are a mighty savior.
                                                                              
                                                                       ©2014 Christine Phillips



Details | Cowboy | |

Muck Dance Ballet

(French terms to know: arabesque (ar-a-besk) stand on one leg, other leg extended back
with knee straight, arms out; pirouette (peer-oo-et) a full turn of the body on the top of
the toe or the ball of the foot; releve' (rel-vay) rise up from the whole foot onto the
ball of the foot; demi plie' (dem-ee plee-ay) half bend of the knees; port de bras
(por-de-bra) continual movement of the arms through a series of positions; fouette
(foo-ay-tay) series of turns on one leg, the other leg extending rapidly to side and
whipping around body; glissade (glee-sade) a connecting sliding step

When corrals turn to mush
and all dirt roads are slush,
springtime has arrived at our place.
The challenge begins
since I'm sans webs or fins
to walk outside with upright grace.

I don my galoshes
and cov'ralls that washes
to feed stock that wait in the lots.
By the time I return
I will honestly earn
my decor of brown and green spots.

As I step in the slop,
my galoshes do flop,
as ankle-deep mud gets a grip.
In slow forward motion
I ease through this potion,
resisting the muck's pull to slip.

I feed several hay bales
and balance two grain pails,
while working my way through the soup.
But before I am through
I'll lose one boot or two
from suction of that muddy goop.

THWOOP!

My foot's poised in the air
as I (gasp) balance up there.
I execute an arabesque,
a slow pirouette
so I shan't get all wet.
What I need is a chair or a desk!

My predicament here
since my boot is so near
is to turn it around in the slop.
My balance must hold
while my foot's in this mold
and fearing my body will drop.

A controlled releve'    
and demi plie'
are more than my posture can stand.
A wild port de bras
while I desperately claw
finds me catching the ground with my hand.

I snap a fouette'
and turn the other way.
I manage a slippery glissade.
For it's not every day
you see Muck Dance Ballet--
just when ankle deep mud makes you wade.

Copyright Terry Henderson
terryhenderson.net


Details | Free verse | |

Why do you curse me

If killing is a problem solving key.
Believe me I shall also try to flee.
We killed thousands in 9/11,
We killed thousands in Iraqi sandy cabin.
We are killing thousands in Afghan War,
We trained to kill/die in Pakistan’s shore.
Do we try to learn a lesson?
God will keep us in heaven a religious fashion.
Arab will die to live on Earth,
What was truth before Lord Mohammed’s birth?
Lord Jesus Christ was born Christian,
What’s wrong in Jews living fun?
Mohammed and Jesus they played on soil,
They roasted their jobs to sweat boil.
They never sit idle and demand food free from God,
They never used to win human a religious rod,
They were polite and shared their views,
They never threw on wrong their shoes.
Conversation was their only tool to use,
Let me know whom they have abuse.
Forgiveness and mercy, they produced a shield,
They grazed their sheep on the earth field.
Do they ask God they shall give a shelter in Heaven?
They will punish that hit by a Robin.
What’s in Quran or a Bible?
Go to Heaven and kill a human tribal.
I learnt a message,’ how to live on Earth’.
That’s why Nature has our human birth.
A religious philosophy is superb,
If it cut my poverty curb.
I work and work to pay off the bills,
And always crying what are politics hells?
Wrongs and wrongs never learn a lesson,
To kill innocents for their outrageous fashion.
To compromise to strengthen crime,
To corrupt nature to share a winning ham. 
If hell or heaven is also a living space,
Then why we have a new Mars race.
If heaven has a better living home,
Then why have a human dilemma of innocence trauma.
Something is wrong in human brain,
Lives in tense and talking about strain.


Details | Rhyme | |

MORE SNOW COMING FROM WEST CAROLINA

Side streets, avenues and boulevards
seem fortifications of past civil wars
with piles of ice glistening, and the grime
and dirt from passing cars splash them with slime..


The meteorologist from Eyewitness News grins as he tracks down the January storm
predicting no pleasant, sunny weather or break in clouds tomorrow night;
more snow from West Carolina will arrive to New York Harbor after midnight,
then it will change to ice, rain and sleet....I'll drink plenty of coffee to keep me warm! 


So worried, I called my  pretty niece who's traveling up North,
I told her to drive safely and stop at a gas station to check her tires,
but Claudio will soothe her blues as he hums many happy rhymes,
and lots of stories he will tell me having seen the kids of the South.


Wednesday I will go back to work, having plenty of time to sleep...
to do as I will, but staring at a blackened snow at every curb,
I can't bear the thought that spring is months away and my Ford
is parked between cars that haven't been moved since last week.   


I'm waiting without thrill more snow from West Carolina,
praying for everyone's safety as they cross another borderline...
If I were a kid, I'd build the funniest snowman on my block,
and happily go around it twenty times as a quacking duck!


Details | Free verse | |

Images of Cotton Plantations

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.


Details | Narrative | |

Driven

I wandered around for years
in odds and ends
not knowing what to do with myself
unchartered territory just waiting for me
to discover
undecided in which way to go
open road to freedom
impulsive escape driven 
by extremes in nature
erratic in behavior
in the spur of the moment running away
from the mundane routine of existence.

A change of pace from everyday rat race
always in a hurry to get ahead
on the highway of life
searching for a new scenic route
through small towns and quaint little shops
worth exploring along side streets
with windows rolled down
music blasting out loud
enjoying the view of the countryside
a smile on my face feeling free
from the city lights of shades drawn in boredom.


Details | Rhyme | |

Works

Like wine which efferveses within the glass
is your own love to me
it fills my heart and bubbles up
rising when you I see
 
Its movements effect whats hidden within
to be seen in what I do
know this my love its welling up
its focus is on you
 
When you are given a gift so grand
what with it would be
upon its presence within your life
its will effecting thee
 
It's hard to tell if it's mine or yours
or what its work does move
I only know not to let it go
until its work does prove
 
Can't be so minor if it stirs my thoughts
but let its movements be
its works are placed within my heart
to love you eternally
 
Matthew 22:37-39 NIV
“Jesus replied: “‘Love the Lord your God
with all your heart and with all your soul
and with all your mind.’ This is the first and
greatest commandment. And the second is
like it: ‘Love your neighbor as yourself.’”
 
COPYRIGHT © 2012 C. Michael Miller
via Duboff Law Group LLC

my ditty for the day


Details | Free verse | |

Flight

Tiny humming birds
Buzzing like bees
Fluttering fast
Fluctuating
Flying like a fleet of 
Helicopters sucking
Up cargo

Red and black flowers
pollinated by
crews of workers
not colliding but collectively
Cooperating
a church on mission
absorbing, ingesting
cadre of co-laborers

Elaborating on service
A herd of helpers
Feeding, fashioning,
Fueling and feeling
Harmoniously humming
Purposed performers

Tiny humming birds
Buzzing like bees
Fluttering fast
Flying like a fleet of
Helicopters delivering
The Word


Details | Sonnet | |

Sonnet?

Every second passes by me unseen But I can feel the weight of one minute After each hour my mind becomes keen: That these days are adding up bit by bit. Each week my personality alters A year goes by and my mind starts to twist Decades pass and it seems as time falters, My mentality gets lost in time’s mist. Yet when I am with you the clock stands still If only I could exploit these feelings I could stop the sands of time at my will But I’m not capable of these dealings Time now steals what I already forgot My mind starts to fade but our love will not


Details | Haiku | |

Natures fireworks

Deadly lighting flash
Thunder booms frightening sounds
Natures fireworks


Details | Free verse | |

We Are Not Artificial We Are Legion

The stagnate machine planted firmly, rusted gears laboring to drudge along.
It does not function properly anymore; it has become obsolete.
The workers no longer need the machine to live their lives.
They can design a new system, built upon self-sustaining values.
It once labored greatly to support its work force. The machine now hinders the lives of the workers.
The workers grew so reliant upon the machine they thought they had become part of it, cogs in the system.
Now they realize more and more each day, that not only are their lives separate from the machine, without  it they are more able to focus on the fundamental values of life.


Details | Imagism | |

The Fog

The morning, a cold dog's nose
Rubs and frosts my window pane
I pat its head, it licked my toes
I trembled in the pleasure vain

Opened the door and there in white
Sits the shaggy dog gaping still
Big it was, bigger than the night
Taller much than the trees and hill

It yawns across the misty lawn
And licks the dripping grass so wet
Sorry, it did not chew up the dawn
The work day in rigid stone is set

With foggy heart I embrace the day
And wiped its foot against the sun
The hot stone mat, my will of clay
Day's labor in this embrace has begun

While the dog naps out of our sight
Giving us room to wear out the day
The fog will come again in the night
Balming the bruises of work today.


Details | Imagism | |

WELL

W 

E 

L

L
      On Earth to drink,

      A word in tongues!


Details | Ballad | |

The Bush Sings Back to Me

Through the virgin timber country this saw miller’s eye is set.
I tap for the good and prime hardwood for the timber I must get.  
Echo reacts from my swinging axe, around old ‘Gentle Annie’.
I sing to the bush, and the bush sings back to me.

There’s the anger of my swing saw building sawdust in the scrub,
A currawong palls a mournful song, in my unwatched mill town hub,
The rowdy fight, from the beer at night, an owl hoots mournfully. 
I sing to the bush, and the bush sings back to me.

Oh the magpie and the jackass, in a messmate side by side,
Warble out and laugh aloud, when I’m unoccupied,  
They wait for me so patiently, as I drink my cup of tea,
‘Til back I go to the shingle pile. The bush sings back to me. 

I sing to the bush, and the bush sings back to me,
Gang-gang growl, a wild dog howl, over chains upon the gantry,
Sap stained hands tie the bands, for the trip to Fraser’s siding.
The bush sings back to me, with the yellow robin riding.

Loaded are the bullocks, the tramlines creak and groan,
King parrots feed on wild oat seed. Their screeching is well known. 
This bullocky’s voice gives a beast no choice. Whip’s crack off every tree.
The whipbird brings confusion, when the bush sings back to me

The picket fence and the paling walls are swaying on my dray.
The axles squeak over Sardine Creek. Bellbirds tinkle away.
I pass the calls ‘til the big ash falls, from the well-timed broadaxe swings, 
A lyrebird waits ‘til the timbers sawn, to recall this when he sings. 

The lowland wait is a wanting wait, a feel for the need to go
Back to the sway of the eucalypt, and the feel of the highland snow,
Where a bushman’s mind is a varied mind, as long as I can be,
In my home on the mountain loam, where the bush sings back to me.

I can leave the saw of the timber mill, but you know I never leave,
For in my heart there’s a bushman’s soul, where no other can conceive,
Boronia scent is heaven sent, near the flow where I try to win,
A bountiful prize in the Ryson’s Creek. A pound or two of tin. 

Now the sawdust turns to rusty brown. They’re the heaps of long ago.
Fire has burned mountain ash to ash, but the re-growth does re-grow,
Tramlines are naught but barely scars. Mill towns not there to see,
Yet in my blood I am haunted still, the bush keeps calling me. 


Details | Free verse | |

Sheep's Work Is Never Done

            Sheep’s Work Is Never Done

Life calls after sheep in morning to continue
Everyone else sleeps in
Hiding from the corporate coma for awhile 
People rise, at a later date, from beds dead tired
Smiles crack on faces; lines move the traces of age around
And break the new dawned day wide open
You can’t count on sheep for anything
They cut wood down in forest 
Place it into piles
I know this can’t be done
They have no work permits
Their visas have expired 
They line up to be deported
You can’t count on sheep when sleeping either 
They wake up freezing cold in wooden homes
Catch colds, catch fire with the trees
To burn the forest down
Weep with matches hidden in the wool
Call it an accident
No one keeps the peace and secrets like death and sheep
You can count on that
Death takes everyone with it, with or without their visa
Sheep move back to their own countries 
Work is never done there either, but
To be continued


Details | Rhyme | |

The Fathers Handiwork

The Father’s Handiwork ” 1 Thus the heavens and the earth were completed in all their vast array. 2 By the seventh day God had finished the work he had been doing; so on the seventh day he rested from all his work. 3 Then God blessed the seventh day and made it holy, because on it he rested from all the work of creating that he had done.” Gen 2:1-3 NIV The Christian truly appreciates The Father’s handiwork of nature; Perceives His love in every twinkling star; Every beautiful, still lake a picture. He sees His love in every flower bud, Shrub and each variety of tree. Gives thanks with adoration For each mountain, river and sea. God speaks to us in His word, But His nature speaks as well. A continuous love story Each creation to man does tell. So often in his hussle and bussle, Man glazes over God’s love; Fails to see his many blessings Flowing from God’s throne room above. Man is often perplexed By the number of his cares. He stresses over little things; Feels the whole world he bears. But this is truly not the case; The Father watches over us all. His handiwork’s so complex From the ant hill to mountains tall. The Father’s Handiwork of nature Is so intricate in its design, Only God can create such order Amongst His creatures at one time. Every bird that sweetly sings And every bee that visits His flowers, Has the Father’s creative design connection It belongs to God, it's not ours! Copyright © Maureen LeFanue 2012 www.maureenlefanue.com


Details | Senryu | |

Boring

While I stand and watch
Nothing important happens
As clouds pass over


Details | Prose Poetry | |

They Care!

A noise is heard, I go out to investigate, 
it is back where the cows are, moon covered by heavy clouds, 
shines through slightly, spooky and cold this night, 
growling now louder, have to get to the cows. 
Ok made it, they are ok ,babies too, so cute they are.
Looking around now growling again, 
louder more angry sounding,
 flashlight getting dim, shines in deep woods, 
only two eyes reflected, growls getting closer. 
What could it be didn’t know coyotes growled, 
deep voice? Bear! 
didn’t know there were bear around here, oh how I hope not. 
Cows must sense extreme danger,
I have my pistol to protect them, (why didn’t I bring my rifle), 
they surround me, not letting me through, 
could not get a clear shot, please move. 
So strange I never knew.
 Heart beating faster and faster, 
stop thinking, concentrate,
please go away I don’t mean you harm. 
Hours pass, growls further away now.
 Time to relax. 
They protected me, 
they care!

EXHALE


Details | Free verse | |

Works of Art

Have you ever seen
The portrait of a dog
Painted on the road,
Not in the great tradition
Of living colours as you’d 
Expect, but in all the 
Terror and detail of
An untimely death?

Have you ever seen
The sketch of an imposing house
Rendered not in vibrant charcoal
But the coal of shattered
Hopes and burnt out hulks-
The work of the Great Artist above
Or the mean imitation of an earthly forger?

Have you ever seen 
The picture of an ocean beach
With dark waters lapping
The fish-laid shore,
Not the magnum opus of
A master in oils; but
The work of an oil slick?

Have you ever seen
These great Works of Art?
And have you ever wondered why
You had to be
The great portrait
Of a Master Caricaturist?


Details | Free verse | |

Dalliance With The Winter Birch

            Dalliance With The Winter Birch

Crystal glances at the brilliant blue 
Marching up there with blinding sun soaked sky
Clouds stream by 
They come apart in seams of wonder  
As the day begins to shine
Work waits there on the farm
A dalliance with winter wind and trees begin
White limbs swing limp, spring back again on birches
Firm roots, frozen earth, hold the hard wood down
I climb the highest branches there  
At 8:00 am farm chores start once again
They can wait for just a while longer
While all of nature sinks into the skin
As I figure out how to return
Somehow I got lost above the trees
Tangled in the maze of branches
Caught, never found, while climbing birches 
Never quite figured out
Which way was up or down 


Details | I do not know? | |

Mutual Staring

There you are again,
When I look out of my window,
I see you staring back.
I see your glistening outline flowing through the night,
Shining through the day.
With you standing so near, yet feeling so far.
Being old, you just stand there.
What do you do?

I see you watching me, watching me.
I wonder what you think of others coming and going, running and playing.
Yet not saying a single word.
See, I do nothing but stand here,
My roots firmly stuck in the ground.

There are many of you I can see,
Yet you seem to be alone.
You stand on your own,
Within your green surrounding, your home,
Watching everyone else. 
You’re fighting to be part of everything – 
Yet your roots won’t allow you.
You are focused, with one aim in life.
Nothing else.

With all your curves I see them.
The leaves rustling around you, floating through each year.
Do you feel them going?
Changing through each season.
You want to go with them, but you can’t.
Yet your roots won’t allow you.

There you are again,
Staring out of that window.
Why do you do that?
What are you looking at?
You look straight at me, seeming like you are looking straight through me.
I don’t eat your food, drink your water, I don’t hurt you,
Yet you continue to look at me like that.
What are you seeing?

I see your whispering branches blowing in the wind,
Looking so fragile as if would break.
I see your mind wandering
As if wanting to move, but cant.
To lift your roots and go.
In your mind you seem so far away,
Yet so close in reality.

I see you more closely now,
Staring up at me.
With me staring back down at you.
You’re staring at me so closely,
With such a glazed expression.
Yet I can’t work out why.
Why, I dont do anything, just stand here?

You move back slowly,
Staring still.
What do you see?
Do you see me? Or just what I look like?
You’re talking to me now,
I don’t understand.
What are you saying?
There’s that look again.
That glazed expression.
Are you still looking at me?
You are.
Yet I can’t work out why...
For I am only a tree.


Details | Prose Poetry | |

The Scythe's Ring Across the Fields

Sitting watching a June summer king establish his reign over hazy hills and dusty dales,
I could just hear a sharpened scythe's ring across green fields cutting away at the corn,
With the hustle and bustle of the annual hay-harvesters bringing home a brand new season,
Happy sunburned workers work the open fields gazing skywards smiling at the noonday sun.

Hay hangs out to dry in the trees of the narrow footpath's and down haw thorny little lanes,
Everything now prepared and Mr.Summer rolls up his sleeves working to help with harvesting, 
Each person delighting in deep cool grass in the shaded part an abstract of lovely flowers,
Then paddle in a cool stream washing the chaff dust from feet thus ending a hard days work.

The shadows of leaves dance along the streams a silhouette waltzes upon the silvery water,
Lovely azure crowfoot salutes from a bank to a forget-me-not an old friend from last year,
A purple compfrey dips its leaves to sweeten the water joined by a warm and gentle breeze,
The birds sing from the trees and in the hedgerows while the nightingale tweets a sad tune.

On trees chestnuts begin to grow and acorns young and green sitting in their little cups,
The nuts from the hazel and the apples on trees in orchards promise a ripe autumn harvest,
Gooseberries for pies, currants and strawberries ripen growing in the hedges of old lanes,
June has taken his fair turn making spring shoots grow strong, ready for the later fruits.

The cuckoo departs and glow worms emerge on a summer's night and glows a tiny little glow,
Along heath and over the meadows across landscaped fields dotted with pretty wild flowers, 
The June summer heat gives strength to nature making grass lime green next to red poppies,
As the summer harvest quietens the work nearly done people rest and reflect on golden mead's.


Details | Free verse | |

...of Wise words (A Writer never recognized goes Wacko-Wise)

Writing is one thing I do daily
Early in the morning
My mind will be humming
So wise the words of wisdom sounds
Alike a rice free of sands
Helping to humanity
Teaches you humility
Makes you a star in your community
You live with impunity
A wise man is not questioned

When you are wise
You turns unique
People begin to mimic you
These are the words that make sense
The words that are sensible enough to bring light of information
Its information cure deformation
The formation of wisdom in the citizens is the development of the nation in all angles
It is citizens that owns a country and not country that owns them

Leniency brings light to the world, and makes right for a nation
Where wise men are filled, nothing lacks
Where knowledge is being stored is treasured with higher value
Where wise information are being shared, you don't see much deformation
Life has many things to give for those who are wise
Wiseness is not only information, but a gift of rational thinking
Talent is a gift of


Details | Free verse | |

The World Is Changing

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.


Details | I do not know? | |

GOOD MORNING TO YOU BIRD

Have u ever really stoped and pay attention to the birds in the morning
have you listened to their praises,their praises of  joy thats its a new day,
they fly like its the first flight do u watch them

Can you feel the joy they feel have you ever tried to feel it,do you see the 
aerobatics being performed by them, its a show not even fine gold can buy 
when they perform in the sky

Flying frenzy is the acts they perform  whilisting so sweet telling you its time to get 
on your feet do you listen to them

As we have jobs to do and to perform they have as well letting us know the time 
is dawn.


Details | Shape | |

fulton- F A L L

S  U   M   M   E   R
L   E   A   V   E   S   
C  O   L   O   U   R
L   E   A   V   E   S
A   U   T  U   M   N
L   E   A   V   E   S


Note: This visual poetic form (inspired by the work of the conceptual artist Hamish Fulton's (b 
1946) landscape 'text-and-image' work 'a seven day walk in the mountains Switzerland early 
summer 1984'.
This poetic form has 5 words of 5 letters or 6 words of 6 letters (as above) or 7 words of 7 
letters & so on with a pastoral theme.I call this form a FULTON as a tribute to Hamish and his 
art.


Details | Concrete | |

The Pyramids

To the east of Indies. nor-west of Africa,
Standing proudly on the land of Sahara,
Trigonometrical domes they lie one on the side of another,
Its the family of the Pyramids standing like brothers.

Planned in the B.C. centuries by great kings ,
Built by slaves troubling their limbs-
Protecting bodies of ' Pharoh's' acting like nurses,
Saving the Egyptian kings from oblivion's curse.

In the midst is the great Sphinx -
With the face of a woman upto the pharynx;
A great lion's figure constituting the rest;
Resembling the Egyptian taste -one of the sculptures noted among the best.

Like the thorns of a grey cactus-
It would remain erect on the sandy caracus. 





Details | Rhyme | |

Nature 4-8-85

Give to me the good land
sweet earth and soil
the sun the shade and her toil
Put me back in natures hand
the cycle of things that I understand
Stand beneath the light of the stars
and my face to warm in the sun
pick herbs in summer showers
and hold you firmly in my hand
the joining of woman and man
Feel the crisp breeze of the bay
and accomplish the work of the day
lay by your side every night
without a struggle or fight
Let the warmth of my soul dispell
your fear and your anger quell
Trust my soul to work for your good
and all between us is understood
Let us run the river beside
and in the woods play seek and hide
Sing to the children our song
that we should all get along
To the cycle we all understand
Belonging to woman and man
 
COPYRIGHT © 2009 C Michael Miller
via Duboff Law Group LLC


Details | Free verse | |

Night Sounds / Night Thoughts

Endless train whistles,
At the limits of one's hearing,
Never farther away,
Seemingly never, ever nearing...

Sirens shrill screech,
At times of their own choosing,
The pulse of mountain winds,
Never gaining, never losing,

Honking winged geese,
A satire of city cabs?,
In cloud bound nature's streets,
Small planes coming and going,
In a parade of me wondering,
but, never knowing,
Where they might have come from,
And where they now are going...

Abandoned homes,
Abandoned dreams,
Stars sparkle in a
mockery of fate,
Who was the last to leave that home?
And what might have been the date?

Will bears soon be wandering
down city streets,
Perhaps shopping for a new coat?
Wild dogs in packs attacking anything?
The bray of feeding goats?

My silent snores go unappreciated now,
There's no one to say "Good Night",
The body aches, my will it strains,
I have no one to share my pains...

Empty pockets stress my hope,
It takes all my will to cope,
Where has everybody gone to?
Has everyone gone to the moon?
I await my turn to join them,
I pray it will be coming soon...

Or am I left here to guard the past?
For me to be the very last?
To witness what the fates have cast?
To experience decay first hand,
Through the hour glass's ebbing sand,
How pointless time does then stand,
Not like a full head of hair..
But a single, lone strand?

Me, the lone keeper of times no more,
As giant machines still hum busily,
No one now to know their purposes,
now or then for sure....

And now you must go too...
I wonder, I wonder,
What I will do?
Alone, books and ink,
My sole companions till
my ship does finally sink?
I eye the rifle in the corner...
Maybe the rules God will bend...
If I use it as my ticket to tranquility,
For, at least, my pain to end?

Yes, at its worst,
No more pain...
Sure it is forbidden,
But reasons to live seem to drain...
No one to say Goodnight to,
No one to say Good Morn...
No one to hear me question...
Why I was ever born...

To those who complain of pressures,
Of work, of family....
Could sit in my chair,
eyes opened...
And see what I can see...
I'd work 24 hours a day,
7 days a week,
And enjoy every responsibility,
To care for friends and family...
& work 60 hours a week,
& feel the difference,
Paycheck but a bonus,
And, see
& gain a new point of reference,
And from that very day,
You'll see the value of your life,
In a very, very, new way.





Details | Ballad | |

Go to the Ant

Go to the ant and learn (2x's)
Go to the ant, ant, ant
Go to the ant and learn-  (Chorus)

She digs her house down deep
She builds her house up high
And though she has no king
Her armies stay alive

In the summer she will reap
For the coming winter sky
She gathers everything
Her colonies survive

(Chorus)

Consider all her ways
She's small but she expects
Her people stay as one
And she is strong and wise

So number all your days
Prepare for what comes next
And til everything is done
Let no sleep tempt your eyes

Go to the ant, ant, ant (3x's)
Go to the ant  

(Chorus)


Details | I do not know? | |

OUR DAILY BREAD

Give us our daily bread . . . 
We shall not mind if we 
Have a daily milk,

Neither shall we take offence 
If we have a daily butter  to match. 

Who amongst you will give his child
A stone if he demands for a  bread?

Who amongst you will offer her child
A serpent if she request for a manner?
Legion ,they are today in the globe.

Who is holding down our daily bread?
Who is hoarding our daily milk?
Who is selling our God given freely manner?

The men with Capital in all our capitals
The men with the tyrannical order of Capital 
The men enslaving us for more Capital 
Even in the nooks and crannies of  rural towns
As hunger and poverty hovers round the cities
Even amidst unprecedented Capitals.

The more we gnash our teeth crying for our   
Daily bread given by Jehovah Jireh
The more they replaced it by daily stone.

The more we complain of hunger to Jehovah
The more they laugh at us and replace our
Daily bread with splotch of taste and famine,
For they known we are springy to sufferings.

The more we lament of the men in Capital 
The more they turn our daily bread to serpent
Striking us forcefully even in hunger. 


The more we beg of them for Capital
The more they kill us for surplus value 
For their fiendish drive for more profit .

Tell the men at work to beg no more
Tell the men in Capital we shall beg no more 
Tell the men at work to arise  and unite 

And stop them and their unending lush luxury
To forge ahead to the barricade and 
Seize the mace off the corridor of their hands.
Then ,only then, we shall experience hunger no more
And our daily bread shall be “tead” and “buttered”.  




Alayande Stephen .T
16th of April,2006
6.30pm

Conceptualization of the sufferings of the masses
All over the world in the hands of the ruling Capitalists
Despite the abundance given by God. Demanding for workers
Solidarity throughout the world to overthrow this endemic Capitalist system.



Details | Rhyme | |

LEFT

Pallid rasp of care
encompassing not compare,
left but to idle, never share,
left but to wander, going where?

My soul in essence asks in prayer
am left to squander life's impair
neglecting waste, as if not there
recycling only watchful tear ~

Oh action yonder, take my stare
cause me to wonder, and repair,
the earth asunder, needs aware,
inhabitants with laissez faire!

To focus blunder, then revere
the force concern, not leftist pare
involving staff of righteous gain ~
each hand to merit, each to aim!











Details | I do not know? | |

The Dog Team

The leader is ahead, you know,
His head held high, his chest held low,
As he races through the snow,
Where he leads, the rest will go.

The harnessed dogs have aching feet,
A pound of fish is all they eat,
Yet they will never face defeat,
Till their job is all complete.

The pride of pulling is in their heart,
Till death will make their lives depart,
They will pull the rugged sleigh,
Until they see their final day.

They toil without one complaint,
They try to keep from being faint,
Sled dogs are, I know, a faithful saint,
A picture of Christ's life they paint,

He died faithfully for His greatest love,
He died so we may all be with Him above,
And if the sled dog loves pulling the sled so,
Jesus loved to save from sins, so much more you know?


Details | Imagism | |

CINQKU#13

over
the stubble
carrion crows-
the game-keeper heads home
for tea


Details | Free verse | |

Beachcombing

Ah, wish I were gone beachcombing...

... among the fewest fondest words
     conjuring up simple, sparkling joys
      in a seemingly pointless pastime
       when the whole world of waged work
        wants me to do only that which is
         cost-effective, truly ensuring ROI:

         never mind divine artistry on shells
        and the tide that must have kissed
       the shores of distant continents;
      just trudge to the jobsite enduring
     bone-snapping cold, blistering heat,
...and the indignity of "No ID, No Entry!"

Ah, wish I were gone beachcombing.


Details | Lanterne | |

ON WYCOMBE HILL

In
a stand
of thinnings-
picked by and by
a bodger
turns his pole-
sweat drips in his 
eye;
the
blade glides
to and fro-
on his homemade
lathe;
one
by one
the pile grows-
legs of beech and
elm.


Details | ABC | |

CRY MUTELY

I must not go beyond sunset
to discover the consciousness of night,
Standing alone on a cliff
I was ready to jump for salvation
atoning for guilt of survival

My regret was time
and timeless suffering,
Where was the maturity of age ?
Mind must go for the beloved ones
for a virginal touch of flawless blaze.

They should have come to join the prayer
not for me, but for the dying sun,
and white valley of fears.
Half my tongue sings for the shade
and half I  cry mutely.


SATISH VERMA


Details | Free verse | |

One World, Our World

    Let the river
flow where it will
    Our eyes will see
what they must
     we depend on it 
and the plants
it nourishes
    We depend on it 
for its flowering waters
    we depend on it
for daytime
     and nightfall
the seasons form
     the perimeter 
of this world
   as it blows 
hot and cold
   Let's not forget 
what we owe
this planet
    We are the stewards
            and the life
we take from this blue orb
should not be
taken too lightly
Together we can 
     save the creatures 
of this world
   Together we can 
forget petty differences and 
   work together 
for the dream
     of a planet 
restored
        Our work 
will take us from the 
  depths of the 
ocean 
  to the heights of
the Himalayas
    Take a deep breath!
     Recognize the kinship of all life!
AND ACT!


Details | Couplet | |

This year's Chores

The grass soon needs mowing, as lime’s placed with care
The bushes, I’ll be trimming, they’ve grown just like hair

The flowers have also grown, they have or are ready to bloom
The trees need pruning as branches now block out the moon

The weeds, well they’re weeds, which I already must tend
The fence rotted through, now that’s something I must mend

The shed door flew off during the brutal winds of winter past
The barbecue had blown over, I was grateful it had no gas

Yeah, the spring it is wonderful for it’s new growth, it’s new life
But, the work that it brings me, brings me nothing but strife