I was once a little twig with dreams of being a mighty tree
So people would come from all around just to look at me
As the years started to come and go I fell in love with the wind
I would open myself big and wide swaying to the music of my friend
My rings became many and my bark was as red as red could be
Then the day finally came I was the tallest of the tallest trees
I stood tall and I stood proud and everyone knew my name
As my rings continued recording my destiny to fame
Then the fateful day it came my friend and I had a fight
Looking back I can't recall who was wrong or right
I said, "You are but the wind something people can't even see"
" And I'm the king of them all the tallest of the tallest trees"
That night the wind started to howl she really started to blow
And I the tallest of all the trees learned we reap what we sow
My roots struggled to hold on tight but without a soul around
She who had been my dearest friend knocked me to the ground
The loggers came and cut me up then shipped me away
To my soul that truly was a sad and lonely day
Torn from all I knew and loved wishing I didn't have to feel
I was cut into boards and post down at the local mill
Now I'm back here at home just a few feet away
From where my friend the wind and I used to dance and play
I'm the deck on which you stand I lay below your feet
There is a bench made of me would you care to have a seat
Sometimes in life our roles change just take a look at me
The trick is no matter who are what you are be all you can be
See I was once a little twig who became a mighty tree
And now I'm a redwood deck as proud as proud can be
And of my friend the wind she visits me everyday
So I can thank her once again for helping me find my way
Earth’s sphere of fire bids adieu to me
As dying embers gleam across the sea
In rare hues reflected by autumn trees,
Swirling in motion with October’s breeze.
I feel the joy this season has to share
In golden harvest that the branches bear,
And I am thankful for this blessed year,
For divine abundance I share so dear.
The sun and moon take on a special glow
As thunder clouds move swiftly with the flow.
Yes, autumn coaxes feelings to revive,
Those mem’ries of past seasons still alive.
When autumn spreads her dress of lacey frost
I know, in breathless beauty, I’ll be lost.
© 2013 Connie Marcum Wong
Light splashes in the eyes and vibrate
My heart to a rich ecstatic state
Joy is the only bird in the leaden sky
Calling the winds to choir on high
And I in the crystal world spin and spin
Till shards of snow caress the face
Like a pillow from scraps of watery tin
And all green and all colors erased.
Cast back the old belief of isolation
Of wintry purgatory and grief, jubilation
Is a white sheet of innocence here
The sinner like a diamond in the air
Frost symbol of death, and Lewis hopelessness
Shall not sing my song without regret
I take a different motif for my symbolic crest
The beginning of the pain I now forget.
Let Persephone sleep, my Yalda is here
The white breast of her flesh my pear
And I a child in a new womb of innocence
Drink of pure light and devote my sense
To leaps of faith from promise to spring
The eternal moment when season shall keep
Ivory joys before the bright immortal king
Just like a seed of winter vacating sleep.
Through a fluttering veil of luscious hues,
Fair Lady coquets with the majestic Sun,
As the wicked Wind caresses her tender cheek,
The harshness of Winter all undone.
Sparrows perched upon the towering trees,
Whistle sweetly at the colorful array.
Fair Lady hums and sways in warm ecstasy,
As the wicked Wind drifts away.
The sinful Sun glows after a wearying day,
And spans its gaze upon the fields of fruit.
Fair Lady drowsy, lies upon the prickly grass;
The darkness envelops as all goes mute.
The Memories of a Dancing Peacock
( Based on a true incident captured in my Camera )
I was in a mood to sing, and
The Peacock was in a mood to dance,
My singing came, while watching the beauty and
The beauty started unfolding its wings and charms,
As if the Peacock was listening the songs,
I was singing, silently in my mind.
Oh, what a joy it was to feel and share,
Those wonderful moments
I spent with that beautiful bird,
Who kept dancing and dancing,
Till the song continued in my mind silently.
You and I may not be dancing or living forever, O, bird,
But the image, which you have engraved on my mind and
The rhythms of that joy and pleasure,
Which you have left,
Would continue to generate always,
The music of silence and beauty in every mind.
Kanpur India 28th December 2011
NOTE:IMP. NOTE: The Memories of a Dancing Peacock
The Photo Poem cum Song is also on my Music Channel
"RavindraKK1" on U Tube. or you simply use this URL
For my Videos Songs on My U Tube just write on Google "RavindraKK1
and go on U Tube Channel - RavindraKK1
Ode to a Desert Rose
Hiding in her desert place
There lives a desert rose
Not much water little rain
Yet on and on she goes...
Day to day she shows her face
To those who can not see
All her beauty hides the pain
And tears that set her free...
Still there's One who shed His grace
Upon this desert rose
Always with her shall remain
Because her heart He knows.
*(In dedication to Andrea: Welcome Back)
Forbidden as the fruit in the garden of Eden,
But is merciless as man's carnal desire.
Similarly ripe and succulent,
And provoking instantaneous salivation,
A desire to taste.
The oasis in a desert of heat and sand,
Quenching the instinctive thirst of man.
The bearer of fruit,
Giver of life,
The garden in which man plants his seed,
And grants the world mortality.
Once a symbol of purity and innocence,
The most beautiful of flowers in a field of many.
Harvesting of such a blossom does not result in decadence,
But instead marks fertility,
And the renewal of that virtue.
Dawning of all existence,
Fulfillment of all desires,
And the divine being of all creation,
Eternally unaware of the power it possesses.
The ladder backed pecker,
like a prison uniform.
Caught-up in exposing
the truth beneath the bark,
of the poet's apple tree.
We prefer ourself in spring;
with tiny little flowers,
and the fruit of possibility.
Yet, if not for the woodpecker,
tapping holes into poems,
we might not ever see
the flesh and blood of raw meat.
I will climb that ladder back,
escape pre-decreed standards.
Tap into that syrupy mixture
and suck-out truth from hard wood.
Yes, lessons from a jail bird.
A pest in the Avian Kingdom.
Wisdom from the little rebel,
beat-out of a tree.
If the lovely breeze had a name
we could drift together as two dandelion wishes
floating wanton on foamy winds.
If the river were rolling, gently
we could slide in and swim
for hours, without rushing
and love is like that.
Love is like still water
standing so deep in a vessel
yet so easily broken upon the smallest of stones;
scattered, and yet-
from this another river begins
(as you begin)
How lovely if you had a name
I would call out to you
and I would hear your reply as
the wind blowing, the water rushing
and not your echoes
as you trickled across so many small, jagged stones
Will I Recognize… The Face Of Love?
Or the Wonderful, Bedazzled Appearance of:
A Moon-kist Meadow, Hushed and Dark
A Solitary Silhouette, this Beauty Mark,
Windswept Grasses, like a Babe’s Soft Lashes
Rippling across Earth, that’s smooth as a Cheek.
In the Hushed and Flowery Scented Air…
Your Face of Love Materializes, Silvery, Full
The Face of Love … is Unforgettable.
From the Face of Love … Will I Withdraw?
The Face of Love without Any Flaw;
As a Canopy of Clouds with the Splendor of Sunbeams
Piercing past the fluffy powder of Heaven, to Radiate Gleams
A Classical Cameo-Sculpture, Perfect Profile Structure
Yea… in the Bright Beacons, I see Your Smile
In the Illumed, Clear Sky, ‘Your Face’
Can Love’s Face be Touched … Attainable?
The Face of Love … is Unforgettable.
The Face of Love … I Have Visualized,
Potent, Breathtaking, The Vision Rised;
From a Sunlit Lake, Winking as Would Diamonds.
Your Face of Love, Emerging from Far Beyond
The Depths of the Lake, as My Heart Quaked,
because of the Wavering Portrait’s Peace
because of Water-Color Caresses.
That Face of Love, was so Tangible.
The Face of Love … so Unforgettable
The Face of Love … has Gazed Upon
Dreams of Mine, the World’s Not Known
… Out of the Woodland’s Emerald Mist
With Drops of Dew, Love’s Face Kissed
The Framing Boughs; My Relaxed Brow.
Floating… Breathing out the Mist of Morn Light
That I may Sketch Your Face of Love, in Life.
The Face … More Handsome, than Sons of the Womb, is Possible…
The Face of Love … is Unforgettable
(For A Medieval-Tongued Poet, I Found Here at The Soup...
Ismael Nieves, this one's for you Kiddo
A dry habitat where sailing boats were invented
and the paper, pens, keys and toothpaste.
Also where beer was a national currency
and the last dress standing is preserved.
This dwelling offers worship to more than a thousand deities
and cats’ funerals are honoured with the shave of the eyebrows
The most numbered Arab citizenry
possessing the globally most spanned river course.
Eye painting is practiced by both genders
for healing ability and a cover against the sun.
Even with the myth of mummification and the awe of Giza
It is certainly true that one of its habitations
Was found to be swallowed by the sea
Oh giver of life, you glorious Sun,
You instinctively know what must be done.
I bask in your warmth to gain energy;
Marvel how you raise up each plant and tree.
You, gracious Moon ever watchful at night
Even aware when your eye is closed tight.
You sway our emotions, also the sea;
Cause turmoil at times or tranquility.
I love you Earth and all of your creatures.
There's joy in knowing you are our teachers.
I will, to treat you with respect and care
And pray that the world will become aware
When we poison you, we poison us too.
Keeping you balanced will grow life anew.
We are blessed with Earth, sea, wind and fire;
Ether, divine, our longing desire
Helps us to treasure our blessings on Earth
And love that's bestowed when given our birth.
So embrace loyal Sun and moody Moon
As sweet Nature sings her loveliest tune.
© Connie Marcum Wong
In this passage of time
I long for the month of my birth
a real child of the spring am I
born on the Vernal Equinox
I come fully alive in spring
The sights and sounds of spring
do hold me in enthral
the beauty of each emerging bud
and oh to enjoy the warmth of sun
The busy work of nesting birds
the joyful songs they do emit
filling the world with wonder
as busily they feed their chicks
The carpets of the spring flowers
strewn here and there at random
gallant bluebells wave their trumpets
while stately daffodils bow their heads
All these bring such joy and lightness
to this weary old soul of mine
giving me the kick I need
to put away the winter blues
I hark to freer days of childhood
Life simplicity in itself
days of laughter, of playing in the sand
so so soft and fine
golden white sands from the coral reefs
sparkling, dazzling bright
Staring into coral pools at Tides ebb
Beautiful rainbows of fish
endless darting, sea cucumbers sleepily still
a child's total delight
coconut palms wave gently in the salty breeze
scale them I tried in vain
inland to the vast savannah's teeming with life
tall grasses the lion hid
a wondrous baobab tree reaching up for the sky
look it grew upside down
for all the world to see, branches like roots
beware the croc log
hippo's snorting, noise vibrating as they plunge
then resurface amidst bubbles
all these wonders through child's eyes seen
Africa my heart you have still
I tell you what my friends, I swear to you
blindfold me, put me to sea
around twenty nautical miles or so
and I would know alone
by the vibrant scents of rich earth and spices
that I am back there
near heart's home, the East African coast
walking in childhood memories
Climb high these mountains
And meet cliffs of history
Snug against the moon
Cold lover's warm kiss
Caress each syllable of song
Love makes joy exist
The milk of mothering trees
Melted on morning's joy
Tongue lark the dark lakes
Water births of memory
Ego ice thin here
The nation's blood lens
The red moon night, so pride stakes
Claim to fluid truth
The wind prowls the skin
Stirring leaves of memories
A breast dried of peace
Footsteps eat the span of trees
Man is small in grief
The muskets torment
Fusion of mission and right
The north shrikes lament
And beg migrants gone
But wax wing they shun the sun
Bunting snow for life.
Old Mohawk glory
Gone when forest bare shivers
In castles of ice
Steel teeth scrape the rocks
And eat iron from the ore
Of greed, killing trees
Logging the green tongue
Of the sun's wealth of heat
For this new kingdom
Of civilized men
Performing barbaric feats
Distant from the den.
Dusk the Gilded Age
Of rage ... like natives, all past
Diseased to the eye
A new dawn breaks song
And howls of joy claim again
The blessings of rain
Sceptered in the throat
Cities' diamonds of dew
Love of warblers note.
Love is eagle's joy
Climbing high against the breast
Peaking in delight.
Weather is poised to slap us into submission.
Threatening with the largest storm in history
To make us aware of her power to destroy
And yet, here on the cusp of history,
Do I yet love Nature
With all of her wild and beautiful ways.
Her seas have been there for me in my times
Ever showing me the vastness of her being
She has ever been the Way
In all her present tense
My wilder spirit rises in answer to her challenges
Enhancing my life daily.
Oh how I wish
I could set free
the native American Indian
with pride and dignity
taking them back
across the great open plains
to their sacred home
in the lush green vallies
where buffalo are plentiful
so the Indians can live in peace
one with nature once more
where the eagles soar
setting them free as the wind
wild untameable as a magnificent stallion
running toward the setting sun.
THEY graze in beauty on the land
of grassy glades and dewy dales,
and all that's best of dark and tanned
meets in their aspect and their tails;
thus mellowed to that tender hand
which Shepherd to gentle glen compels.
One fleece the more, one hair the less,
had half repaired the shearless grace
which wreathes in every woolen tress
or darkly tightens o'er their face,
where mouths serenely sweet express
how pure, how dear their grazing-place.
And on that rump and o'er that round
so strong, so firm, yet elegant,
the baas that win, the hooves that bound,
but tell of days in meadows spent—
a flock at peace with all around,
a drove whose milk is innocent.
01/26/2014, "First Poem On Soup" Contest
The echo of Winter will never eclipse
The gentle breeze carrying Spring,
Or birds overhead, with their eyes well affixed
On the future for marvelous things.
The sedulous bees bringing life to the Earth,
While they buzz and wash over each section.
The warriors of progress, unknowing their worth,
Wielding only a sting for protection.
The tiny striped martyrs then bravely depart
From the plant, at some length, to the swarm.
The nectar collected, their personal art.
The hive waiting, welcome and warm.
To witness this magic in calm disbelief,
Is a treasure, a blessing to see.
The simple, whole truth is, from mountain to reef,
All life here would cease without bees.
Whispers of weeping willows beckon me,
“Forget the rain; get ready for a ride!”
On a magic carpet I soar o’er sea
Worldly troubles melt away as I glide
To another world where flora is lush
There are no signs of civilization
As I land next to a pink butterfly
Against my elbow this creature does brush
Have I begun a new incarnation?
That can’t be, for I know I didn’t die
All is still, not a hush
And even by my best calculation,
Nary a soul is lingering nearby
But creatures aplenty bid me good day
Seeing a long-necked giraffe makes me smile
He bows his neck and soon goes on his way
How lucky I feel! This trip is worthwhile
From the forest a lion approaches
Gentle as a lamb, he purrs at my feet
As I reach over to pick a red rose,
Not one thorn encroaches
Wafting through the air an aroma sweet,
A welcome sense of serenity grows
From the brook beside me a large trout jumps;
Splashing is his way of saying hello
Now why was I feeling down in the dumps?
When twilight descends, the forest’s aglow
With lavender, amber, pink hues and more
This is the harmony ancestors knew
And as I lie down, my spirits revive
Gone are things I abhor
My, this fantasy was long overdue
And I feel so blessed just to be alive
*Entry for Cyndi’s “AN ODE TO SMALL COMFORTS ON A RAINY AFTERNOON” contest
One morning Dee woke to find the most unusual toad
Perched o’er the water line in the “bowels” of her commode
She put on gloves and sought to catch the elusive creature
But no matter how hard Dee tried, she just couldn’t reach her
So to the local newspaper, Dee wrote for assistance
A letter to the editor described Dee’s persistence
To her shock, the letter appeared the very next day
With her email below it for helpful hints to convey
Nearly seventy emails made their way to Dee’s inbox
Suggestions aplenty on how this critter to outfox
Some offered to come to Dee’s house and catch the motley toad
A biologist warned, “It can’t swim; don’t flush the commode!”
Dee lived very privately and wanted no strange house guests
So she declined “in-person” offers to pursue this quest
By day the toad managed to slip out of Dee’s gentle grasp
At night Dee reached for a toothbrush, felt a slithery clasp
The toad she called Todd was quickly escorted out the door
Although the potential for warts, Dee certainly abhorred
Newspaper staff got a kick out of Dee’s predicament
They called the next day to find out how her efforts had went
To all of the kind emailers Dee wrote of her success
But the public’s interest Dee was unable to suppress
So she wrote another letter, proclaiming, “The toad’s gone”
Concern for this toad was a noteworthy phenomenon
Beneath Dee’s letter describing Todd’s new outdoor abode
Was a cartoon and an ode to the toad in her commode
*Believe it or not, this is true!!! Happened to me when I lived in a wooded area.
A helpful biologist said it was a "tree toad" and couldn't swim.
As days get shorter and night stretches out.
Summer fades away and earth gets colder.
Soon, Oh too soon snow will again rule and
the earth will slumber under its folds.
Until then we enjoy the fruits of bounty
smelling the last of sweet summer flowers.
Crops stand ready in the fields for collection
Combined harvesters busily at work.
Fat stalks of golden corn, rye and barley
tied in bundles ready for threshing.
Seductive scents of apples waft
as down they are laid for storing.
Frosts now lay the land bare
as the leaves part company
some red, some yellow, others orange
they blow and scatter in the wind.
Trees looking stark and bleak gaze
o'er the stripped fields with snow sprinkling
the now barren ground and soon Winter
will once more rule in her glory
Gone now the lazy days of Summer
her flowers and perfumes distant memories.
Now the hues of colour are subdued.
And all around the land sleeps on.
Peering through plate glass at a puzzling view,
In the midst of hot coffee’s morning ritual brew.
Staring out with amazement and wonderfully struck,
By our Cherry Tree’s overnight sensation run amuck!
By nature’s own standard, cruel joke she has played,
Million blossoms wide open one February day.
This juvenile sapling knows not what it feels,
Sprouting vivid Pink colors, the show it now steals.
From those all around laying dormant in state,
Expecting nature’s cue to blossom their own petals awake.
And by then poor young cherry will have muted her splash,
Replaced by green leaves summer storms will soon thrash.
But alas all this splendor making warm visual sense,
In the short time required for fresh java to dispense.
Tomorrow I’ll once again observe through plate glass,
The wonders waiting just beyond cold winter’s Rye Grass.
Submitted to Giorgio A. V. Contest themed: Impress me with a small poem II!
1) user name: wedge
2) choice of motif: nature
Appearance like Blood,
Your beauty washes over me like a flood.
Watching you before the sun climbs over the horizon,
This occurrence is really surprising.
Even tho your emergence is brief,
Your display has brought me relief.
But time is drawing to a close,
with that I must bid you goodbye,
Thank you for this speechless show.
smoother than most, all moving no boast, shooting a moon to toast, to our beautiful host
revolving no doors, just opportunities score marking the entrance ways pores
fracking a lack of communication crashing breaking backs and racking our foundation
till were screaming take it back
unpacked and all out, dig deep for the fall out, kettle blackened from potty mouths,
busted missing a tea spout
pour me a gallon of chandon the whole sip for your front lawn, till the bottles dry
like jokes from monty python
silly satans salivating sighing and spraying your favorite simon's saying cause piles of money and ego feed are waiting for the generating
nothing new under the sun but above clouds I found me some, cause ignant bliss still exists even if you wear a cummerbund
tell all your facts and try to catch my glazed eye, cause compromise can be the do or die, to where ever future lovers lie
this blueberry from space ferry might fit in a test tube in perspective
or we just miss the point why evolution was so selective
Froth and foam, time and tide...
Ah, the motion of the ocean.
‘Tis the source of my heart's longing,
The place of my soul's belonging,
With it's push and pull...
Ebb and flow.
As time and space go rambling on...
At your shores, the same time and space
Your maker and mine exalted...
By your push and pull...
Ebb and flow.
At times I find myself longing,
To become one with you,
And your knowing of life's beginnings,
Both old and new...
And the days and years of all your learnings.
To find myself wrapped up,
In your fathomless embrace,
In all the ways you have kissed me,
With the currents of your passion…
Your endless days, the mystical fashion,
Of your push and pull...
Ebb and flow.
Yet how shall I fathom,
Your unending endlessness?
And how shall I counter,
Your impartial fury?
Most certain am I that it will bury,
All that is and leave no trace,
Of that which is and was to come.
For man who is blind, sees only your wealth,
And not wholly that,
But that which he deems
Till you, left naked and raped, rise...
To reprove us, to open our eyes.
Only then do we see,
T'was meant to be,
That you, and I and we,
Are made as one.
And as to you, unto us is done.
Thus to us is done for sure,
Till blindly stumbling we find this cure:
That those who shall possess you,
Shall do in setting you free.
And to them is your grace,
To them is your passion,
The depths of your soul and the endless fashion,
Of your timeless, enduring mystery.
To see my photopoems, Join me on Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/sonnetforge
Or visit the website: www.gopoem.com
What we Read, is Where we Go...
To you plump puffball,
Squatter of the mushroom fungi.
May your soils be rich
And your spores be many!
Moonstone child of nocturnal reverie
Pride tempts to invite fallacious vanity.
Creamy alabaster skin,
Spongy firm of flesh within.
A saucy lunar face to taunt the sun.
His nomadic gaze leaves no course for fun.
The sun edges off towards autumn skies,
Pragmatically steady; contemplatively wise.
The sun may have kissed her on a whim,
Crazed butterfly flutters; needles to pins.
Translucent skin, her conceit and crown,
Blushes from saffron hue, to Dijon brown.
Physical metamorphosis; transmutations collide,
She becomes a phase converted seasonal bride.
To celebrate this new found core,
She sends up clouds of dust, and sleepy spores.
There are traces of the sun
In your smile
Sparkle of the stars
In your eyes
Of foxy guile
That makes me pause
That your tears are like
Walnut brown eyes wide
As Montana skies
Your breath the zephyr
Of the mountain pass
Breast a nest for hummingbirds
And cold Heart rimmed with ice
Attitude both bad and good
As changeable as the weather
Hale and hard as hickory wood
And hardy as the heather
If all the heavens beauty could be
Conjoined in one solid mass
Twould be as hard as flint could be
Yet both soft as meadow grass
…You are Nature…
I love you
In the darkest hour,
Of the coldest night
When the Heavens deign
To open wide
And e’en Angels
Take startled flight
Form eerie sounds
And silvered light
The Cosmos converses
In Cosmic verses and is
Softly scriptured, the melodies
The stanzas…the bars
In the gelid Winter’s night…
And would’st one lend a careful ear,
Perhaps the Gods… would grant him hear
…The whispers of the stars…
Framed within my window pane
My world shares this with me
And should I want it once again
This place, this tranquility
I shall hide it somewhere deep within
Should time somehow steal it away
Then I will guard it safely there
For us to share another day