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
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.
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
tender pedals new
to Spring's lifting breath
sway fair willow
moisten ripples strewn
oh, gentle breeze
your fingers entwine
to quite radiant stirs
linger soft your
on Spring pastels abloom
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
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.
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
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.
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.
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...
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
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
Anemone, they say you are wild!
They are fond of tarrying in the shore
They forget how in faith and pride
You cancel what is less to that of more.
Anemone, come and talk to this child
He is sad and tired of their peace and war.
Come and bring every flower: wild and mild
Soften their hearts and for life open the floor.
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
Take a walk towards an autumn day,
stray past summers end into a fallen
red yellow and orange blend. Although
it seems we are heading into seasons
of wither, the beauty of every season is
at work. Open up let Mother nature in,
she can do truly amazing things. Realise
even winters chill can be special and
brilliant. Like softly falling snowflakes
dusting over the whole place, far and near
what a truly wonderful time of year. A
magnificent pure white landscape has
what a truly wonderful time of year. A
magnificent pure white landscape has
what a truly wonderful time of year. A
magnificent pure white landscape has
what a truly wonderful time of year. A
magnificent pure white landscape has
ODE TO THE WINTER SUN
Who could believe what we have seen
It is a sun in winter what a rare thing
In the open we run to with our camp bed
You have relieved us for we were cold dead
How glorious and beautifully this day you rule
For you have finally set in Olympus
How often shall we see you O! Fairy ring
Before your full show at summer and spring
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
Driving home, the sun beaming down
highlighting the Quantock foothills
a criss-cross quilt of very small fields
too steep for mechanical ploughs
worked still by man and shire horses
Bright gleaming yellow rape and mustard
interwoven with shades of brilliant green
a paradise for birds nesting in the hedges
tiny dots of white sheep scattered round
deep scarlet red of the fields laid to fallow
Ancient hills stun with captivating beauty
hardwood trees hundreds of years old
spread their sheltering branches wide
casting fat and long shadows ''neath their feet
grassy banks giving shelter to small animals
I gaze with delight filling up my soul
loving the fact these are my hills
that roll and soar around my village
with magical names for each hill
some very bare others full of heather
Reminding me of my native home
Will's Neck and Cothelstone
rearing up above the deep valleys
with nestling lakes and rivers
this place my place till I pass on
these hills were the first place in England to be given the title of outstanding beauty
1956 check them out in Wikipedia for these amazing views
IN PRAISE OF BEAUTY
O beauty allure, beauty of the hyacinth
Doused by wailing drops of dew shroud
And pierced by the radiant shaft of heaven,
Through the rituals of purity
To tread the virginal soil of Venus.
O like the scenery
Of the splendid garden of Aphrodite,
With Pageantry, the art of Pothos and Himeros,
The pearly dross most sought after
Like a wand that spelled all the eyes of men.
Dazzling aurorae shimmering in deep shadows;
Figure beholding of the twinkling crown Andromeda.
Sunrise awakening the greenery;
Ascending furrowed amber terrain of
The gloaming by the countryside!
Habendum et tenedum!
Before the lily white altar an avowal
Of chastity and tranquility enshrined;
On feather quilted bed day and night
With love elixir soothing the body and the soul!
Soul melody in diatonic harmony of
Meshed contralto with resonating baritone.
Swell the homophonic rhythm of Azande
As the pitch from my lips wear and decline
And the tempo of my heart increase!
Scented lavender wafting through subtle air;
Aromatic morning of rose bathed with dew
That transports the mind beyond earthly realm
And capture the heart at whim
Lost in imagination of the form and frame.
Culinary variety spread in romantic atmosphere
In candlelight banquet of cream and crimson;
Sheer delicacy, man’s greatest savour
Whose delights subsist even in her absence;
Whose substance transcends life’s ideal!
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.
Treasured land splendour and glory
Pearl of the Orient Seas
Soldiers of known best skills
The secret of velvet Three Stars and a Sun.
Fortified highest kind of water
Hallowed island of more than
Seven thousand and one hundred seven
Proudly yours no other can hold.
Through this bravest patriots
Giver of my calm sound of freedom
Giver of my light and peaceful mind
The best and will proudly shout my own.
Intellect, wisdom, skills and faith
Sun, earth, stars and sky of blue.
Falls, lakes, seas, and trenches
Bestowed by my loving motherland.
Wishing you stay at your best
Treasured land of splendour and glory
Of my Three Stars and a Sun.
Proudly my Pearl of the Orient Seas.
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.
Outside I sat, to see the blue sky,
As the earth revolves, it passes by,
By the sea, I see the flowing water
Of its number amount, I ponder,
It's creatures, some meek some wild,
So the sea is seen both gentle and wild,
The men so wise,inovative,
So lovely and creative.
There is a thougth in my mind,
Which truely, is no crime.
What else is the greatest wonder?
Where foul and fair causes ponder?
Where polished woods are mistaken for gold?
How do we survive here with all the shots-cardinal wise;
With security as the pride of every nation
This can be proved in the "Daily's" headlines
Where it is been advertised.
Bribery seems the normal way
Else you die trying
The say it's survival of the fittest,
But I think the survors are super-fit
For it's an omni-wonder
To survive in such a wonder.
I wish I could float up
And kiss the moon
Such a beautiful pearl in the night sky
Is lunar on her sentry duties
She cast a warm and haunting glow
On us all below
She makes the shadows seem alive
Enchanting the woods as the mist rolls in
Lunar my goodness of the night
Your presence fills me with such expectant joy
I know not what the night you herald
The wolves howl
The owls hoot
The frogs croak
Night time can be so noisy
They all wish to say hello
So they sing
Waxing or waning
As you rise to your perch
You glow most beautifully
Luna my beacon in the far away sky
I thank you for blessing us
And keeping us safe at night
What a day you chose, Grandma Mine!
To quake, to move, to shiver, to shake
Thereby to ravage, to savage, to shatter,
The celebrations of Mother India Republic Day.
A female snake eating her own children!
What bad karma those school children had done?
What configurations of the planets took place
In the natal charts of those thousand killed?
Million years ago you jolted and rocked,
Opening up the Atlantic & creating Indian Ocean,
Delinking India from Africa and Sri Lanka.
Those oceans are widening & the Pacific shrinking.
Will North America & Asia drift into each other?
*The twelve plates mate and hate each other,
Caribbean to Cocos & Indian to Eurasian.
Your wanton ways to be taken as blessing in disguise?
Your natural acts as great levelers? Or
HE made the world to fit best to create & destroy.
*There are 12 twelve plates of our mother earth. It is based on the earthquake
that shook India's seaside area on 26th January 2000, the Independence Day of
tenth place win
Contest by Linda
June 16, 2005
Dr. Ram Mehta
Form: Irregular Ode
Featured on PS on 3/20/2011
The poem was posted on the day I joined Soup. Originally it is one of the
Poem published in my Poetry Book "The Roamings" (2000)
What am I,
But falling leaves, in
And all that has passed?
I am here,
Of shrivelled gardens-
Of numberless worlds,
Through eternal time.
Before summer; before spring,
I have been.
Why I am,
But to vent their love,
Hello again, Life!
& every fair death.
All that I wasn't;
To become all that I am,
Just to say thanks.
I am the one who once traveled by flight and foot
And now I slither around on my round-body
My tongue has always been and still is split in half
In my first stage of life my speeches consisted of fire-bursts, ice-shards, smoke rings, and whirling-wild-winds
Now my speeches are speedy rollings-of-the-tongues and a-spitting venom-filled saliva
Horned was I back in the days after I had hatched out of my egg
Now my mushroom-like head consists of my eyes, my nostrils, and my ears
Once I had massive teeth to help me emasculate my food
And now I must swallow all of my food whole
Many primitive cultures have used me as a symbol for both good and evil
I symbolize the Morning Star, and have been blessed with many different names
Nevertheless, I am worshiped by many cultures of mankind as a powerful being
I am the Light-Bringer, and the Knowledge-Bringer to mankind and am similar to Prometheus
I seduced Eve to bite the apple in order that she may have knowledge and become like Yahweh
I am also Quetzalcoatl, the revered sky god of the Aztecs
Without the symbolism that mankind has placed upon me I am nothing more than a plain reptile
Tall and pure oasis
So much has changed
You remain constant and lovely
Gentle, morning green grass
Breaks like waves, laps at the shores
Of white, gray, and yellow stones
Towering above me, silent and sure
Chiseled marble, granite spires, oak
Wrought iron, your scent is old
A familiar volume I keep close to me
The reflections in your pools
Still glass, not a leaf disturbs
Irises cling to your walls
The distance beyond you sways
Spreading lazily into shade trees
Sun-tinted pastures and weathered fences
I walk with reverence, still, after so long
Your ground is my sanctuary
It houses my past
I am a child forever in front of you
The endangered Ash Tree
what can we say
we have somehow
numbered your days
bright in the spring
with hint of all new
in summer you shade us
and make us feel new
So wonderful in the fall
of burgundy glow
so majestic in winter
dark bark against snow
to gaze at your splendor
to wish you to stay
look intently for it has seen it's last days
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.
A traveler has traveled far and wide,
Lost in the plains of yellow flowers and Poppies
He saw the tree that stood
An Oak tree it was, with stream of water from underneath.
A reflection of his image he saw,
A fallacy he denied.
Like a fool he talk to trees and skies
The west wind blew and his heart felt
Heard his name sorrow, thus the wind Whispers
“A man is weight by the sorrow in his heart”
Thirsty, he drank from the stream.
Bitter it was, but the stream was as clear as the sea
An epiphany he had, the taste of bitterness,
Was from his heart, the taste of sorrow.
Green grass withered and the sun died,
Illuminated by the night skies;
He mocks the heavens
And he curses the ground.
The heaven cried out,
“Man is imprisoned in the passage of time”
The stars died too
The stream dried out and came a man
“I am thy sorrow, thy need, thy fallacy”.
“I live in denial, for I know not the man I see,
I know not of my weight, my sorrows”
“The yolk of life that I carry has undone me”
“Emptiness in a man’s heart is the presences of grief
Atlas! How well did my heart grief” said he
“How well did my heart swallowe’d”
Darkness came over the plain,
the beauty was shunt from man.
A voice he heard,"nature of man is beautiful and deceitful"
Dawn came, blissful, as the early birds began to sing
the dew drops that fell on the grass, illuminated the plains
his heart was filled with tears of truth.
So, as here we stand
On a fire-baked land,
We look towards the horizon
In hope of a cloud
A cloud of hope
The bringer of life
As the parched earth
Glints like a knife
In the rapid stab
Of poverty’s grab
Looking upon the horizon,
Looking up with hope
As the brown thirsty grasses
And grey bushes
In search of moisture
Deeply rooted would grope
And the dust-devils stand
Like pillars in this land
Like chimneys red and hot
On lands that have not
Not a drop of water
Not a glimmer of hope
As the heat mirage shimmers
And the baked clay glimmers
There is always hope
Today I whispered my fears to you --
Wrapped my arms around your hard body
Scales tickling the underside of my arms
You've been keeping my secrets
since I was ten
You were barely as big as I
You can almost touch the sky
Reach right up and greet the sun for me
I bury treasures at your feet --
Dig down deep into the earth
Careful not to tap a single root
You've been the protector of my bounty
for your entire life
What knowledge you bear, all for a little girl
In gratitude, as proof of Your love
You present to me
One perfect white blossom
Why that no good little birch
I think I alder leaf her
My aspens in the dirt
Don’t you know I’m not that poplar
I damn near choked on a little oak
And though I tried I am not maple
Now the branches are all broke
and the limbs are so unstable
I could go against the grain
But I’d hate to needle yew
So I guess I’ll cedar later
And bough out fir the one that’s true
Can’t see the forest for the trees
Can’t tell just when the root will rot
You know I think its elm diseased
And I can do with out the knots
Well now it’s really got me stumped
Just when I should have sawed right through it
And it’s too late to pack my trunk
Or perhaps I just out grew it
I could go against the grain
But I’d hate to needle yew
So I guess I’ll cedar later
And bough out fir the one that’s true
Some trees grow up in a grove
Others make a stand alone
But there ain’t no peach with out a pit
And there ain’t no pine with out a cone
I’m sure the heart wood ain’t no good
So I won’t go out on a limb
But when a tree is being felled
I wish that someone would cry timber
I just don’t think that I’ll ever see
A poem lovely as a tree
So I won’t Beech and I won’t Pine
I’ll just remind you one more time
I could go against the grain
But I’d hate to needle yew
So I guess I’ll cedar later
If you were sap then you’d run too
LILIES et NATURE
As much as a man i do wish
That the grass and lilies should i be
Seeing their beauty arrayed in the field
As portrayed in their bending and tingling
If wishes were horse i would have rode
That man should realise truth in natures abode
Can anything be gentler as a dove?
Nature in her lilies makes us her own
The struggle not to be at all fed
The lilies in their glory forgetting been dead
Man on the other is a predator and a dread
Nature et lilies calls us to her rose bed.
Are your eyes the green of a shamrock's leaf,
or your nose the tide that comes and runs?
Is your skin the plains of pearls and perplexities,
your hair the curtain to a rainforest peace?
Could be your ears the caverns where rarities dwell,
and your shoulders belfries that will never ring?
May your chest be a wound that never swells,
and your heart be the silence that learns how to sing
Is your hand a ten-minute first-light,
your fingers the fleeting moment that stays?
Might your arms ensphere the the broken, the evil, the cold,
bring what ends, for sure, to the prelude, alright?
Your legs and feet, perhaps, lucid dreams and strange fools,
with bizarres and bazaars, eccentricities galore,
Playing with colors, creatures, the cosmos, the rules,
that no matter duration, leave invocation for more?
Your mind calculates, creates, contemplates, is there,
But without You, none of these could ever, ever be.
For without the green of a shamrock's leaf,
the vastest of woodlands would seem nothing but bare.
Rain drops pounding upon my window pane,
Oh joy! Not the foreboding sound of gloom.
The sun blotted from the sky by gray rain
bringing harmony and flowering blooms.
I hear the distant sky's waning thunder.
The catharsis of mother earth's womb shares
the joys of rebirth in the winds chorus
with the sound of wonder.
In the warmth of my home, my soul declares;
the rain has come to relieve me from stress.
Shall I take a sweet nap or lose control?
In my flannel pajamas, I delight
in quiet time alone, feeding my soul.
First, sleep with dreams, love caressed in starlight.
Hand-in-hand, a stroll under silver moon.
Awakened by a gentle kiss to spark
feelings stolen by my mundane routines.
With flower petals strewn,
moistened blooms beckon me out to the park
to skip and splash like a child in blue jeans.
Rain still pours from the sky as I reach home
for a matinee, Singin' in the Rain.
Cozy with hot tea, no more need to roam.
Warm, content feelings, I cannot contain.
Gene Kelly inspires me to leave my bed
dancing through my house with full abandon.
Music plays loudly, I'm liberated.
A gray day turns bright red.
As I dance, ducks splash outside on my lawn.
My tired body feels rejuvenated
By Rhonda Johnson-Saunders
for An Ode to Small Comforts on a Rainy Afternoon contest (Cyndi MacMillan)
One by one your bones are stacked,
to hold back Mother Nature.
Or as a need for privacy,
a man made stone enclosure.
You turn a graceful curve around,
a walkway or a drive.
At times you are snap-line straight.
A Canvas for artistic eyes.
You end against a building wall,
or with columns as sentinel ends.
At times your left with toothings out,
so you may continue once again.
Be you cottage stone or slate flats,
created of rip rap or river rock.
Your rugged beauty ads some flair
and curb appeal around the block.
You lead the way, block a path.
Keep man out of danger.
You silently stand against time,
a stone faced, familiar stranger.
For the contest: A Toothful Ode
Sponsored by Nancy Jones
*note. Toothing. When a stone or brick wall is left
unfinished, with bricks or stones left jaggered at the end,
so the wall can be continued at a later time.
The telephone rang, I answered cheerily
When the niceties were over, the voice inquired
"How is it going with the gardening today" quite sincerely
I could not refrain and out of exuberance, desired
to extol the virtues and due attribute to the joy that Spring is bringing.
The Birds are chirping away
gleefully abound at their playing
rejoicing the rebirth of Spring today
and now have more hours to bask in the sun
That's the glory and joy that Spring is bringing.
The Winter's gloom of body and mind is now done
the Trees and Shrubs, in the breeze can't restrain their greeting,
The Peaches are busy Peaches-sing
the Figs are Figging away
and the Apricots are buckling in their blooming.
The Guava's graciously budding and Guava-ing the whole year
as with the Parsley's and Celery's luscious greenery,
The Paw-paw's are Paw-pawing, the Avocado-pear
so generous in their giving, through-out the whole year,
It's amazing, all the joy that Spring has sprung.
The Quince's are heavily wincing
the Mango's are flowering and ready to Mango-ing
the Banana's are Banana-ing
and the Plum's, purplish in their Plum-ming
so too are the Tamarillos heavy in Tree-tomato-ing
While the white and mauve blossoms
of the Yesterday Today and Tomorrow's, soften's
the most perturbed mind with their heady aromatic scent
and the Jasmines exudes a fragrance extraordinary,
As with the Clivia's in saffron pride, glistening in sun-lit dew.
What an awesome, wondrous sight
to see Mother-nature's beauteous, creative delight
blending so, with the Omnipotent Creator's panoramic scene
Set so, that we the Immortal Mortal care-takers bear in mind
that His Garden and the giving Spring, is of the sharing Kind.
She was a devoted ole gal always at her best
so many days I cried hanging off her chest
down to the lake in the hot summertime
we would cool her off and swing on a vine
Every morning at five am here came Belle, now my friend
and again at six pm there Belle was ready to work again
years passed and Belle became a part of our family
we worked, we played, and we milked twice a day
Half my life she was one of my dear friends
I greeted her in summer with warm sun burnt skin
and in winter I spent my time warming them
when Belle died I can't say things were ever the same again
Belle had become more than a cow in a pen, who gave us milk
she became a babysitter, a circus act, part of the swim team, for the neighborhood
but most of all Belle had become a lonely teen's dear friend
SHE floats in grace, like one in love
with love itself and all that’s lush;
and when the mythic sprites above
unloose her from the morning's blush,
she descends like the milk-white dove
with the notes of a singing thrush.
With golden locks, as light as air,
and liquid, limpid eyes most blue,
none is like her or can compare
to her beauty and lovely hue
which lift the humble souls that dare
come to her for her balmy dew.
As cloud and rain Nymph and a muse
with the nimbused crest of a saint
which no man can therefore refuse
or with mean words tarnish or taint,--
then let all Creatures freely choose
to honor her without constraint.
1.) Ngoc Nguyen; 2.) Nature motif; 3.) for "Impress me II ! ( Old/New )" Contest
We walk a fool's trail under bowing leaves,
With the hands of a seamstress weaving our world together.
As all our plans and schemes tremor through an air that breathes.
We carry nothing through a lush green splendor.
Clouds with grim figures carved rest heavy above the lake.
Inside the toast is burnt as our tooth aches outside a certain flow.
We rush forward and ignore the movement of light and sound, snail and snake.
Our Big News Parade trumpets our needs all loose and slow.
Some have sung about the trail's end.
Some have sung about the snail's Zen.
Some will never sing for the light is too bright.
As I now travel in the wake of all this delight.
Inscrutably solid in multi-shapes and colors
Prisoner of itself sitting Buddha-like forever more
Gazing mother earth reshuffling her pets
As mighty and small moan to subtle strokes of death
Slayer of Goliath, though David stole your praise
In twelve, you symbolized the twelve tribes of the Jews
But upon your historical landmark
They never treasure you like the ark
For Rick Praise's contest: "Stones"
Dragonflies, empty nests
Pumpkin pies, shedding trees
Brown meadows, Monarch butterflies
Crisped carpets of Autumn leaves
It’s a frosty feel of finality
That all good things must end
That things must die Is simply reality
Tis not a question of if, but when
It’s a harbinger of things to come
As well a reminder of times gone by
A pregnant pause to ponder, muse and wonder
Where we are and who we are…and Why
It’s a time of transient Nature
Replete with changes everywhere
Absent name and nomenclature.
As familiar tho’ (as we all know)
…As smoke draped pon’ the air…
And that ‘s what makes Autumn great
The extraterrestrial guest and sovereign of blue bloods
and son of the most reverent ancient tribe and octopus’s cousin
you have been setting on emperor’s throne
from early Silur
in yours great ocean capital Ur
since 400 million years ago,
presenting for future
the jet propulsion engine,
you have been the perfect creature
and marvel of universe
with you timeless shape and rockets like semblance.
You are the worthiest successor
of the dying mankind,
this trick of nature and instant caprice.
Among the human and humanoids
who might doubt really
for your right and legitimacy
to the eternal ruling
yours majesty of cephalopods
and blue exelences?
You survived through all calamities and crisis
outlived by Erath in its long history
even falling to planet the greatest asteroids,
hiding himself on the bottom of ocean.
Even in case of the worthiest scenario
If our Globe would have been captured by Black Hole,
the Squid, your majesty, know how climb out
from that gravitational barrel
tossing up his long stretching tentacles
with powerful suckers and pointed teeth at the ends
he know as catch the seismic hubs and anchored them.
So you will able encountered and inhabited
step by step
on his supersensitive and sharp legs
did picturesque by Salvador Dali,
the whole universe.
In her structures and secrets you understand much more
then all our futurists and scientists combed together.
And Mankind from the ancient centures
has suspected in dreams and nightmares
as his own most advanced competitor and successor
who will rise for the ruling by Earth once
on the base his truly right,
the coolest quality of his blue blood,
on the priority of birth, immeasurable history
and testifying by heck a long times.
Oh how can one capture
Your beauty on paper
Without you evaporating
Off as it is your nature
The stars are your jewels
The moon is your crest
As if blessed
Your silence is serenity
That whisper to my thoughts
An overwhelming beauty
That ties my stomach up in knots
How humble I am sound
A beauty incomparable
With a radiance so profound
Your absence is unbearable
So often we’re so busy “living” so high above GROUND…we forget to be down to EARTH…appreciating the NATURE of little things as an innocent child would…so often do we lose SIGHT and neglect one of the most accessible joys that LIFE brings….something as simple as taking a WALK outside and inhaling fresh air or watching the water be so still…so silent and PEACEFUL…this a present ( present time/GIFT) that we don’t even acknowledge....let ALONE hold dear to our hearts…I fear that we as a generation of people have become to preoccupied with LUSTING…we’ve pulled away from really LOOKING…even Eve proved to be ultimately deceived in the Garden of Eden…foolishly believing that what she thought she wanted was what she needed...*NEED *(GREED)….mistaken are we…I can only HOPE at some point we discontinue repeating…
CiD *Cherish Internal Development*
Shamefully dull, life would be,
Without seasons to nourish me.
Winter, Spring, Summer, and Fall,
Nature’s blessings the nourish us all
Apathetic and harsh, winter is,
With arctic gales that pierce
Every linen shielding my frame.
Anomalous flakes of snow drift from the sky
As sheets of white accumulate on the ground
And weigh down the healthiest trees,
Teasing those ready for winter festivities.
Once the snow angels and snowmen are made, and
Once the sledding and snowball fights are done,
Into their warm homes, all will run,
Hiding under hoards of fleece
Until it’s time for spring to come free.
Pleasant and lively, spring is,
With liber rains falling lavishly
On soil beds of assorted seeds,
Nursed diligently by the avid gardeners
Who thirst for the sight of the first blossoms
Of poppies, roses, lilies, and tulips.
Blueberries, cherries, and strawberries
Entice the onlookers waiting to pick
The ripest harvest in a timely manner
And savoring them until summer can flare.
Fierce and fervent, summer is
With a feverish breath, that makes rain a treasure.
People gather in masses to absorb the bodies of water
As a radiant sun desiccates the land.
Outdoors, pitchers of lemonade are carried everywhere
And thriving honeysuckle sweeten the air.
Yellow lights of fireflies flicker through the night
As exhausted bodies relax beneath the stars,
Gazing in admiration, until autumn can appear
Calm and homely, autumn is
Wither green, red, and yellow foliage taking over.
Crisp leaves bustle about the ground,
Trapped by flurries of whirring winds
Until they are raked into heaps for children to dive in
And pumpkins growing in preparation to carved or baked.
Families huddle together around brilliant fires
While couples stroll through parks, taking delight in the landscape,
And having picnics until winter’s brisk rise.
The laced-head heads
Of the elderberry flowers
Curtsied in acknowledgement
Of the sun arising east
The breakfast breeze
With the slightest ease
Had the lemon-grass skirt
The fairy-lace heads
Of the elderberry flowers
Agreed with exquisite manners
That the life-giving powers
Of the Light’s regal banners
Held the promise
Of a new day
A new day has come
Filled with promises
~La' Luna De' Morte'~
As an scarlet blush,shadows th' land crim'...
She steals sting of death,with 'stonishing splendor
Beaut~full n' ablaze,her ambience flows in wake
Lighting th' air crisp,with her spark'nd kindled kiss
Comforting n' calm,she affords festive delight
Gath'rings 'round her pyres,her children gleam a'glow
Joy~fill'nd laughter,emits gaiety from their pleasance
Swaddled in her aura,'ven th' gloom'd come a'glee
Sweetly n' sound,becometh slumber in her night
Though th' amorous' desires,are th' more frequent for wait
For of Eros' myrrh,she is saturately immersed
Th' senses of her seduction,soothing to feral 'volve
Wholly loyals 'cept her due,ceaselessly crave her 'rrival
When her departure cometh,we lay yearn'd of next loom
Awaiting th' Mother's daughter,so lavish'ly arrayed
An 'ticipated nativity,none comparing so of...
...An Autumn's Full Reap'ng Moon!
A glimpse out the window morphs into a gaze
Brugmansia, your mystical delicate beauty clears
Air conditioned stupor. There you sway
Gracefully grasping toward thirst-quenched solidity.
Firmly rooted one strand beyond limp susceptibility
Leaves randomly ragged from young rodents' teething
Swelteringly bearing the dark side of nature
Fresh blossoms emanate dignity's essence
Despite gloomy doomsday predictions
Angel trumpeting goodness and peace.
At the end of the day
All your tears fade away;
All the stars come to rest,
The horizon now crest.
At the sea, the tide fades
As the sum of these days
Takes its toll on the ground,
Ripped and torn, tattered down.
And I'm here, by your side,
Torn away by the tide,
Trying still not to drown,
Not to fade in the sound of the sea.
But I see you, your eyes
Are the tide of the sea.
As they ebb, so they rise.
Still, they wash into me.
I can cry now no more.
Struck yet speechless, I cease.
In your eye, the tides roar;
I have found my release.
Lost in beauty, in that sea,
Lost in time, I'm lost to me.
Your face has aspect, fearful symmetry.
I find I'm lost for words. I cease to breathe.
And as the tide now tears me down,
It matters not.
My soul has found its rest within these ceaseless tides
That once contained my empty cries.
Captivated by your lips,
My breath is water.
'Neath the whips and scorns of time,
I find my peace.
My soul, content, has found release.
Lost in my emotion,
I found what I could be.
Drowned within that ocean,
My soul's absolved to me.
So have I drowned inside the sea,
Inside your tears, inside of me.
I know now what it is to be
The golden silence melts away, and joy un-named
From the phantom pipes exults me
For no silence can so rhapsodized and doubts tamed
That man deserves better glory.
And what if sin could, levelling us, permit this to remain
Tell me then what is the eternal antidote of our pain?
Like distant peal of evening bell, a plaintive song
The unknown angels could also sing
And golden glow the light divine where seraphs throng
Chiming solitude's shadowy wing
Where my soul beneath the bough of your academy ignites
By the rapture that your balming melody in me excites
What do you wise man of shadowed boughs tells my heart now
What deep remembrance from me gone
When music was language to which all wisdom bow
And by songs you spoke Eden's tone
And I the Adam now understood the truth you sweetly tell
The prophecy recovered while kept in trance under your spell.
No bird then you are, sweet singer from times afar
Too sage your purpose tells the hope
The griots spoke, ere magis found their vision's star
Song beyond silence giving scope
To the word that instant wandered and did not move, and no eye
Nor I could describe that form, elusive in the brimming sky
Great philosopher, wisdom teacher, nightingale
That from solititude drops pearls
For which I sell all promise other, so prevail
Your fragrance to unbroken worlds
Where there still perhaps the universal language can be heard
In as sweet as tone as this cataract of hymn from a bird.
I love to learn, but in the aura of such light
I retain nothing but pure joy
And while in ecstacy yet claim I a full sight
Absolute and with alloy
For music makes of faith a better candle for the darkness
And faith brings truth where only faith can spark our human hardness
For up and down around me move a district loud
With the sweet notes of prophecy
Yet no one lingers, no footstep halts in the crowd
As men pursue their destiny
By choice, deaf to their own healing, and wealth so beyond compare
The peace so freely given in a song filtering the air.
Dusk of the year
Blowing so cool
I welcome you
You bring fresh
Skin tingling breezes
That caress me
And whisper of the wonders to come
I always longingly expect you
Hoping you will be
Laden with bounty
You are a time to gather
A time to recollect
A time to get ready for the
Your soothing wind
Is gladly welcomed
After the summer’s heat
Autumn how I have missed you so
Sweet logs crackling on a warm fire
Make me content
I feel blessed by you
Harvest time summons when you appear
Nature’s abundance seems to overflow
I marvel at the wonders you always bring
Time of gathering
Time of coming rest
I thank you most sincerely
For I have worked hard and need the rest
May the pleasant glow of the sun
And nights so cool
I wish you welcome
For I have so missed you so
the arbitrary doyens of
in gin perked rum…
across glass bled eyes…
purely out of interest…
the bluish flaccid
whistled and sold…
whistled and cleansed…
privy to atonal acronyms
and consummated progress…
as quiet as he ever was…
purely out of interest…
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…
It does not cast a shadow,
Nor does it judge, mimic, or belittle,
But it is full of emotion,
When expressed, time stands still,
Ubiquitous to society,
And inspired by nature,
More valuable than gold,
But cannot be spent,
More real than the stars,
But cannot be seen nor touched,
It can calm the most incorrigible of people,
And create passion in the most stoic souls,
It remains the same,
But is constantly changing,
And is older than life,
But will never age nor die,
To move by it is beautiful,
But to create it is a gift from God…
Roses under my bruised feet,
Led a trail to your defeat
With a circle traced around your eyes
We continue to frown upon each others lies
Cringing beneath the burnt leaves
Orange and crusted gold lines
We stand among the people
Who have felt this cold air before?
Do not question the earthly hallow
The grave my dear, you dug to shallow
For the rain it will gather upon thy crown
With the pink flesh and soon to be out of breath
I abide you ado
Farwell the gentleman of grace
And pondering hearts combined
We feed the crops that are parched
You quiver in the wind
With that you take me home
And wear your child’s grin
A smell of wonderful ambers burning
The night sky becomes dimmer
As the flames die down
Our breath becomes thinner
As you reach for the cracks in the ground
An old tree stands alone,waiting for no one,
but the bright warm sun.
His branches reach far and wide,
as if to hug you and touch the sky.
He stands tall and firm each day,
to shade all from the brightest sun ray.
Greeting all who come to see him,
for he is your friend and will do you no harm.
Give him respect when you come by,
for you never know when he'll say good bye.
For many years he has been alone,
he made this land his only home.
do no harm to this tree so old,
winter is coming ,his leaves grow cold.
He can be frail in ice and in snow,
treat him right and he will know.
A cracking branch,it may snap,
watch out for it may trap.
He's lived a long life and has loved all,
old tree will we see you next fall?
If we do not we will not forget,
what a friend you have been,
frombegining to end.
A friend who's been faithful,
a friend who's been true.
for there is no other tree,
who looks like you do.
Trere is only one,and only one you will be,
for each tree is different,
like no other you see.
so I thank you for the times we had,
for your gentleness and rugged way's,
for all the climbs and all the day's.
For growing up with me through the years,
to say good bye,
brings sad tears.
So to you my friend,
I will let you know you will not be forgotten.
You my dear friend will live on you see,
through your children,
yours, and mine to be.
I will watch your children with mine grow.
This is not the end,but a new start,
I carry your friendship,
alway's to heart.
Catastrophe of the dry run
The sea, Ice, air, human are rapture
The powerful are brought to ruin
Green horse making this World hot
70% is absorbed in heat
18 degrees Celsius balance the heat
Mighty keeper of water in the lands
Mighty destroyer of Islands
Changing, charging chastising
I see, I am part of your activities
Burning of coal activities
Carbon emission, 34%. 2020 activities
350,000 in Britain suffered your hands.
65,000 Dominican Republic feel your hands
500,000 in southern California left home to avoid your hand
Denmark gathered the heads cos of your hand.
The heads accept to make peace.
If only it will go to the heart.
Oh mighty one, tell me how to keep peace,
Is it more of vegetation, so I keep peace?
Or keep away carbon dioxide
Nitrous oxide and methane
Mighty one, tell me
How you can lie low, for peace
I know I used more than
I put back to you.
Should I have my own forest?
But I know sunspots and solar flares started before me.
REASONS OF WRITING
This poem was writing out of inspiration on hearing and reading how this atmosphere has been badly used and the follow events caused by bad emission to the air, the changing in almost every natural events gave rise and when the heads of states gathered in Denmark to plan for the way forward. It is my contribution on how this atmosphere can be made for a better condition for us all to stay in.
(1) This poem is a free verse, it run through without break, saying the major event that global warming has cause in the world.
(2) That the heads of states decision in Denmark should be put into practice not mouth say.
(3) That before man (human) started anything sunspots and solar flares started before man
(4) We use more than we put back to nature.
(5) That green vegetations is also a way forward.
(6) Everyman should have his/her own or plant his/her own forest it is possible.
A dormant volcano,
Waking from its inactive state.
Rising with the sun,
And aching with an almost hate.
The temperature of the molten magma,
Ever climbing higher,
Not afraid to show its wrath,
And let knowns it's desires.
No obstacle stands in the way,
The mountain is unyielding,
The eruption takes over control,
The volcano's libido stealing.
A thousand times as intense,
As the star that lights our Earth,
As the explosion's taking over,
The mountain's at peaked girth.
The violence as ended,
Again the world is still,
Once more the volcano sleeps,
And will wake up for another thrill.
It’s due to a facet
of your hectic
That you repose for
such a short time
Totally remiss in
your ignorant bliss
Unaware of your
A deep sip of
With proboscis quick
idle gently, lazily
Then long probe is
once again curled
Magnetic fields tug
Beckoning you once
Legs push up
Wings flex down
You’re never long to
The compass of all
your travels is
Directed by the Sun
Your ticket is
punched both by
And solar winds
All wrapped up in
In powder of black,
red and gold
A tad tattered and
ragged It’s true
Yet still things of
Truth be told
But also warnings
against Avian haste
as bright banners
Thousands of miles
of improbable flight
And cold stormy
To attend a reunion
In whispering chorus
On a cool
Deep in a Mexican
In the trees
In the cool forest’s
Do they mourn for
Along the way?
Do they have a
That they share In
some strange way?
It soothes me to
That they’re sharing
Of things that have
And of things,
still in store
creatures that I love
And are unique to my
Lords of all they
…Monarchs of the
Before sunrise the firmament,
silent and luminous
kept all its stars under guard,
and none would go astray,
because the voice of God they obey;
and their names, unknown to us,
are spoken by Him with kindness
and carried on the currents
of a mighty wind,
which are moved by a command!
I express my enthusiasm,
to elevate my lyrics to the heights
of the shimmering luminaries;
this praise emerges from a deep gratefulness...
and unlikely any other emotion it conveys,
mine is never repressed by feeling,
it goes beyond my understanding
to why it was created with such a magnificence...
for that specific purpose humans aren't aware of,
but doesn't it attest to a Supreme Intelligence?
After sunset the perfect firmament
glows with light to overwhelm me
with more awe and less controversy,
and why should there be doubts
to obliterate every evidence from my thought;
when faith is evanescent, all thoughts
become empty and improvident...
so that the Creator is shredded of glory!
My excitement is induced by contemplation,
dissenting the theory of evolution;
how can distortion render conviction...
if all it does is cause more division?
This assumption doesn't tolerate belief,
it is utterly senseless and full of hypocrisy,
conceiving the Creation as a myth;
are we subdued by its plausibility?
My poor dog is crying in the wilderness
lost sight of his master and the rest of kin
Wagging and scratching to leave for safer haven
Barking in the nights
Whining during the days
He lost the lease around the neck
Why does it refuse to lie down and whisper
WHY SHOULD I GO ON AND LIVING,WHAT THE HECK?!
Old bones of the 20 year old collie
When will the Children come back
to play like happiness of jolly
It wanders through the infested forests
Eating fallen berries to keep the breath still breathing
The sun goes down in early set
This little pooch still hasn't found his bearings as yet
Evening is quite chilly,even for the warmth in Fur
A faint gentle moan as if to ward off the night creatures,just beginning to stir
An animal that has a brain to find a way out..of this Canadian Plain
I should have made sure that he was safe and secure while we were
sleeping in our tent
Then he broke his chains and quickly sauntered went
We cried for a 24 hour raindrop that is sad,sweet,and filled with regret
Thinking ever constantly:WILL WE EVER FIND HIM AS YET?!
Before I lay me down to sleep
My thoughts, a prayer, to the little lost and lonely sheep
find your way
Tales of the scholars speak noble words,
Of the mistress of the earth,
Crying tears on those who implore,
About those who have the gift of birth.
She'll whisper and talk,
With a lonely seduction,
Holding the clouds in her bosom,
Hoping and hugging with her stomach.
She will hope and wish,
When the time it takes,
Walking and talking,
Until her water breaks.
The constantly moving water
Of a cold and sparkling stream
Allows me to make a hopeful wish
Lets me believe in my dreams
It takes away my worries
Then releases all my fears
Flows swiftly along, fluidly strong
Never minding my dripping tears.
I wonder where it takes itself
Through forest woods and open plains
Down the hills to valleys, along the city lanes
Rocky rapids, small curves and turns
Sometimes silent, often loud
Always stretching to reach, to yearn
Growing in strength and size, becoming proud
For soon it comes to a great span
Of water, far and wide
From horizon to horizon, it cannot touch the land
Stream merges with the ocean and slips out with the tide.
With out rain what would we do?
What would we drink?
What about food?
Its helps us out
It grows our cotton
So we have something to wear
With out rain what would we do?
Would we walk around naked?
What about you?
I startled you as you lay dreaming
With burnished scales and body gleaming
Upon an ochre sunny, sandy bank
Contrasting with your elongated flank
You rose with quick-silvery motion
Without sound or needless commotion
And spread wide your captivating hood
While in awe gazing, mesmerized I stood
You flicked your fork tongue at me testing
Simultaneously threatening and protesting
Swaying to your primeval ancient dance
As I stood rooted in admiring transfixed trance
You tasted once again my human essence
While I in turn took in your luminescence
And then with an imperceptible low hiss
You vanished, leaving me in humbled bliss
A raging sun raised over the sky so bright, kindled upon
The earth desired for thirst, the first ray hold upon,
By the crops reaped over the farm so baked -
Steamed by the nature so distressed,
The flared breeze glowed over the life withheld.
A muted zephyr pass by the morn, betide upon
The daylight so hoped-for, the first drop gushed upon,
By the wind so aroused over the fight against blaze -
Danced by the mizzle so greeted
The sensation of expressions for the moment winded so delighted.
Moistened by the drops fell upon so pleased, retrieve upon
The sowing over the sloughy farm, the last ray hold upon,
By the dismal days of cloudburst -
Streamed over by the ken so roaring,
The time of the year met with the season of showering.
Abased sun faded by the sky so dark, mislaid upon
The sprinkle dripped for reseeding, the first ray hold upon,
By the awning fitted for shelter over the sidewalk –
Drenched by the approach so merciful,
The mournful reek washed over the shore so disgraceful.
An abstract world by the city so ludic, played upon
The time seemed lively, the first dive swam upon,
By the pleasure of life -
Versed by the pleasance so alive,
The sweet flow of liveliness hoped to survive.
Lasted numb behind the clouds the sun once peeped by the drizzle, showed upon
The rays gently breaking up the sky by the colours differentiated, hold upon
By the welcoming of feathered white clouds –
Eased by the greenery so eying
The time of the year met with the season of fall-flowering.
Sliding through the sunlit lake,
Shining armor of silver plates,
Slippery shadow shape through translucent liquid;
Darting down to the depths,
Suspended there in weightless water,
Then vanishing in a veil of billowy dark green fingers;
The ghost of a glimmer,
A tiny drop of silver glimpsed from the glassy surface,
Then lost beneath the lake.
A fresh aroma of the winter roses bore upon
The break of the day light, the first ray hold upon
By the droplets beaded over the floral leaf
Mulled over by the sight so mimetic
The life glazed over the mist filled by the charismatic.
An ecstatic jubilation bided by the Christmas carol
The gala affair of the sunset, the last ray hold upon
By the beloved savored over the time cajole
Relived over by the chorus so balmy
The rendezvous solemnization blended by the carmine patty.
A warm welcome of the edging resolutions blessed upon
The solemnity of Mary, the first greet hold upon
By the wishes ordained over the coming élan
Pleased over by the time so worth
The time of the year met with the springtime growth.
Anew Sun brought upon the garden, bore upon
The green of the array, the first ray hold upon
By the moving moraine over the frost melted -
Drifted over by the season so pledged
The aroma suspired over the blue air, warmth blended.
Pooled by affections over the day choired by love, relived upon
Betrothals belonged forever, the first kiss hold upon
By the destiny manana over the time so limn -
Touched by the amity so dear
The warmth over the ardor met with sweetness so fair.
They held back for the bathe in the colour so motleyed, poured upon
The meme prevailed over decades across the east, the last ray hold upon
By the field blazed over the harvests so sear
Turned over by the air so brut
The time of the year met with the season so hot.
Note: Continued from Fragrance - II
red, gold, yellow, green
and a warm brown
the colors of the fall leaves
laying upon the ground
one Saturday morning,
I worked very hard
raking up all those leaves
in my backyard
and once I finally got a big pile
looking nice and neat
a devilish grin came over my face
before I decided to leap
and with the jubilation
of an innocent little child
I ran full speed and jumped onto
that big leafy pile
laughing and thrashing about
I had me a ball
rolling around in my backyard
in the colorful leaves of fall
Aching Feathered friend
Perched on top of the tree branch
can see the beginning of his end
The hunter of all things animal
tried desperately to cut short his flight
more or less is extinguishing their species
The air that was his breath of flight
feels the treason of Society's might
I AM DYING,YET..THE GOOD MOTHER KEEPS MY WINGS FLYING
Are the Predators insane
for insisting that our species is game
Then our space is no longer graced
Shot down to the ground
by the Laughing Human Race
We can tell that the World is Hell
If one of us keeps falling
the decreasing numbers
would continue to tell
I'M FOR SURVIVING
IF WE ARE TO BE
PUT DOWN THOSE RIFLES
FOR THE PROSPERITY
OF HUMANITY AS WELL AS FOR THEE
O! THE NAME SEASON!
OSCILLATING MY HEART!
GLARING MY EYES!
TINY BUDS PEEPED SLIGHTLY WITH THEIR ODOUR IN THE SPRING SEASON.
TREES SCATTERED TEARS OF LEAVES IN THE AUTUMN SEASON.
BIRDS CAROLLED THEIR GLITTERING GAZALS THEREIN MOONY SEASON.
THE DEWS FLING THEIR KISSES ON THE GRASS IN THE WINTER SEASON.
PEARLY EGGS SPLITED CALMLY THEIR NESTS IN THE SUMMER SEASON.
MOTHS HAVE WREATHED SINGING THEIR OPERAS IN THE BRIDAL SEASON.
CRICKETS WELCOMED WITH THEIR RINGING BELLS AFTER IN THE RAINY
YOUR PLATONIC BLOOD PAINTED MY HEART, BRINGS THE SEASON OF
In the lovely Campanian countryside, amid
verdant hills and mountains...where Virgil
stopped to rest,while jeourneying to visit Cybele's temple,
lie a fertile valley where chestnut and walnut trees
abound...there is hidden the bustling town of my birth!
Narrow streets overlooked by bell towers,
and whenever the sturdy bronze bells ring
in the fragrant air of early spring:
young and old from windows and balconies,
in the twelfth hour, engage
in the sweet thanksgiving prayer...
while the tricolor flags sway in the warmest breeze!
The town's friendly people will welcome you with song,
untill you feel wonderful and touched by all;
this town has seen invasion, pestilences and a dire year...
an almost fatal hurricane that prevented a fierce battle
from being fought during World War II;
was Divine Intervention a factor to be acknowledged?
It spared this town being bombarded by air,
and it saved my mother's life to tell this truth!
God blessed this unknown place,
and sent Mary with the infant Jesus,
four days after He was born,
on a long jeourney through that valley
filled with peace and beauty:
to find a revered and holy mountain...
much closer to Heaven!
And She shed many tears
to give all the dull flowers
a brilliance of their own!
Deep in the hills there was a very special place I choose,
where I would rever the magnificence of the valley...
revealing a superb panorama with the Vesuvius in sight,
was there another creation as magnificent as that ?
And that owesome view perked up my inspiration inside,
teaching my tiny fingers to write with a human heart!
O Baiano, don't strip this name from your walls and stones:
I am a forgotten native who will return before he'll die!
No one talks about the grass,
But yet, it does so much;
It covers up the ugly stuff,
And adds a nicer touch.
When you fall amongst the grass,
And scrape your knocky knees;
It doesn’t tear your knees apart,
Like rock or grey concrete.
Or freshly cut, it smells so nice,
Yeah, nothing smells like grass;
It takes you back to better days,
Your young days playing catch.
It gives a place for bugs to live,
The good bugs and the bad;
It gives a soft and comfy place,
To sit if you are sad.
To really feel how great it is,
Remove your stinky shoes;
And walk among the cooling strands,
In springtime’s morning dew.
Sometimes I think about the grass
- It still amazes me.
There’s only one thing greater than
The grass - and it’s a tree.
So nature’s carpet needs a bow,
Cause without it we’d be blue;
And just remember if you’re down,
Hey - you can smoke it too!
From a seed, started on the shelf.
I Planted with care. Elements to dare.
No fertilizer or chemicals seen.
It grew leaves of green.
The head large and full of seed.
Surrounded by a yellow screed.
Looking down from it's lofty perch.
It dances and gives a lurch.
Vibrant and strong.
The wind can do it no wrong.
Deep and thick are the roots.
Stands, like a pair of boots.
The stem, thick as my arm.
Making the wind seem calm.
Perfect in every way.
Forever and a day.
Crisp snow falls on the mountaintop
glorious and regal, the whole
universe gravitates towards him
and he sees it all clearly!
Ode to the earth which we enjoy
Bringing us happiness and sorrow ness
Bringing each other closer and closer to the most closest
Bringing us together for joy
We think we care so much for the earth
Yet we pollute it with carelessness
Cruel humans, cruel polluters
Reduce, reuse, recover, RECYCLE
REDUCE the amount of garbage and make composts
REUSE grocery bags to replace garbage bags
RECOVER energy from wastes that cannot be used for something else
RECYCLE plastics and paper
Together we can make a difference
Together we will help the earth
Together we will fight against polluting
Together we will be Earthkeepers
Give it up, give it up everybody
for OXFORD SUITES
12226 N. Jantzen Dr.
Portland OR 97217
(503) 283-3030 Reservations 1-800-548-7848
On11- He may be sad, you may not be.
On 14- If it were a detergent, Billy Mays would be a natural!
On 13- His picture will appear soon, and often.
i walked for miles with
a voice that smiles
humming off rays of my pass
starring down the road
which i've come from miles
drunk off the rum
my sound is loud as bass
from a drum
from my ears to thumb
snapping my fingers
the taste is yum
oh my the fun
chewing my grits like gum
my grits and rum
like last leaf
to a velvet
such a lovely
scene, from painted
prose of God,
of which thru his artwork
reminded me of
holding sweet mama,
‘til he was being
into manhood, by the thrilling
wings of her olden days.
The clouds rolled in quickly
As the cars rolled out
No one had a clue
What Katrina was all about
They packed things lightly
“We will be home in a day or two,
So feed and water the pets,
We’ll be home when the storm is through”
Side by side they slept
On cots and sleeping bags
While the Dome began to crumble
Changing their riches into rags
Not so still waters
Began to rise so deep
Only debris and disabled cars
Are what’s left on their streets
Power lines amongst the ruin
The dog walks slowly along
Looking for the home
To which he once belonged
Tent cities on the highways
Where they were safe from the disease
The view from where they stood
Brought them to their knees
No lights to come on
Only sirens, screams and cries
Searching for the living
While the dead float on by
A shimmering arc of whiteness spreads its
eagle wings, overarching and embracing
the sky, soaring into the sunset
If you were not perfect, I would
run after you, down to the seashore, splashing,
yawping to the tops of heaven till breathless,
“TAKE AWAY MY DESIRES!”
LOOK AND SEE WHAT TIME HAS WROUGHT,
A PLACE OF WONDER AND BEAUTY I STOOD AND THOUGHT.
THERE ARE NO TREES, THERE ARE NO MOUNTAINS,
THERE ARE NO CLIFF'S OR CASCADING FOUNTAINS.
YET LIFE ABOUNDS UPON THIS LAND,
THE WORLD IS BEAUTIFUL FROM WHERE I STAND.