Kashmir is the innocent beauty of nature
It lifted me above all mire dark and dense.
Kashmir is the divine smile
It gifted me a peace beyond all of my sense.
Kashmir is the sorrow
It showed me a combined pain of poverty, corruption and terrorism.
Kashmir is the beautiful helpless unmarried woman.
Whose neighbors are trying to capture her body not sweet heart.
Kashmir is the paradise on earth without dream...
SANDIP GOSWAMI, INDIA
( THE POEM IS DEDICATED TO EVERY WOMAN IN ALL COMMUNITIES OF JAMMU & KASHMIR AND POET ANDREA DIETRICH )
Glorious spring sunshine kiss my limbs as they sprout
With each opening bud, "I'm so alive" I want to shout
April showers cling to me as I drink each delicious drop
Hopefully chosen by blue jays to build their nest atop
Caterpillars and ants tickle me as they crawl to and fro
Nothing sweeter than watching everything around me grow
Come sit under me, take a break from the hot summer sun
Join me as I watch the baby birds leave their nest one by one
Let's marvel at the beautiful butterflies that flutter all around
The music of my friend the humming bird will surely astound
Smell the delightful fragrance of all the many flowers in bloom
Capture the magic nearby of a newly wedded bride and groom
I'm bursting with colors of yellow, orange, red, gold and brown
I proudly smile each time one of my leaves cascade down
Laughing children make my day as they roll in my splendor
You taking my picture makes this memory much more tender
Scurrying squirrels truly fascinate me, as my acorns they hide
Forgotten ones will one day be my saplings, I'll burst with pride
Snow flakes have delightedly dressed me in a suit of white
City folk string me with lights, I boastfully light up the night
Skaters whipping by me, their energy and actions are compelling
I feel so very blessed to have been rooted within this dwelling
Come and join in the festivities and beauty of each and every season
Become a memory on my branches, I can't think of a better reason
*Dedicated to the 50-80 year old trees in Gage Park, Brampton
Now to the world of the amphibians
In search of my dear web foot friend
A native of all lands with countless fans
Croaks in tears and nears his dead end
Now to the fresh water and pond
In search of my web foot friend amidst the fog
To the rescue i come like the legendary bond
to save my web foot friend the frog
Sunshine-blonde with sapphire eyes,
Cheeks tinged pink by bold sunrise.
She smiles at noon to light the sky,
Nudging clouds with gentle sighs.
She wears a gown of mossy lace
With blooming buttons, neatly spaced.
With ocean heart and river veins,
She seldom cries - she dislikes rain.
Fire-red locks with rose gold eyes
Bright with flecks of fireflies.
She pulls a veil of thunder clouds
Across the sky - a purple shroud.
She wears a robe of flaming beads,
A golden crown of rainbow leaves.
With full moon heart and molten veins,
She weeps at will - she enjoys rain.
Raven mane with silver eyes,
Soft skin pale as milky skies.
She exhales gusts of icy wind;
Her breath leaves frost on everything.
She wears a cloak of northern lights
With sunburst jewels carved from ice.
With clouded heart and frozen veins,
She cannot cry - she freezes rain.
Amber curls with emerald eyes -
A fickle pair that floods and dries.
She melts away the ice and snow
And resurrects the sun's warm glow.
She wears a cape of tangled stems,
Of gauzy vines and rosebud gems.
With honey heart and nectar veins,
She loves to cry - she lives for rain.
Dressed in my shaggy brown coat
I stand nearly six feet
at my shoulders
and weigh almost a ton
My brethren and I
once roamed the prairies
in herds of millions
grazing on its grass
which fed and nourished us
for tens of thousands of years
Running at speeds of
over thirty five miles per hour
across the prairies
in herds that stretched
as far as the eye could see
our hooves created
a thunderous sound
that shook the earth
causing it to tremble
like an earthquake
When packs of wolves attacked us
we surrounded our calves
kept our heads down
flashed our horns
and charged them
to fight them off
At times though
we were not able
to save our young
our old and ill brethren
when they were separated
from the protection
of the herd
The redskins were
the only human beings
we knew at that time
Though they hunted us
with bows and arrows
to feed themselves
and to satisfy their desire
for shelter and other needs
they did not waste
any part of our bodies
They respected us
and we respected them
We lived in harmony
for thousands of years
It was the advent
of the whiteskins
that initiated our decimation
They brought in large
that could keep up with
and even outrun us
The redskins realized this
tamed those creatures
sat on their backs
and hunted us
using their bows and arrows
like they did before
They killed more of us
but again they took only
as much as they needed
and did not waste
any part of our bodies
so we continued to
co-exist in harmony
It was that long mysterious stick
that the whiteskins brought in
that triggered our demise
From a great distance
it made a loud noise
and something hit us
that we could not see
but it inflicted severe
pain and agony
Some of us fell to the ground
and died quickly
while others struggled
but were injured so badly
that they died soon after
We were helpless against
this long mysterious stick
We were slaughtered
in our millions
They left our dead bodies
to rot and decay
where we fell
Sometimes they took away our coats
Other times they cut out
our tongues only
and left the rest
of our dead bodies
to putrefy and decay
on the prairie grasslands
that we had trod on proudly
for thousands of years
This is my epitaph
for I just saw the glint
of the sunlight
on the long mysterious stick
heard its thunder
and felt something
go deep into my insides
as I fall to the ground
I am on way to meet
my proud ancestors
who once roamed
these lands in freedom as
Lords Of The Prairies
Familiar avenue, follies in the midst abandoning themselves to the fresh-air moon,
lured by old hallway allies into the bedroom bay, where the garden will still be, with a
The laundry turns,
the night dries.
They harass and blame those who follow far behind, await a signal from inside to
let 'em starve, ignore as they toe past the prow of the porch, past the tattered
drapes, tilting their tails;
old memory prints on window panes, that, at first glance, still have some taste
evaporate from a distance.
The prowlers aren't afraid to be strays, and they empty into the streets with
ashtrays, living their own way, solely opportunistic,
they usually pay for it in the end, if they ever get a glimpse.
And inside was a lifetime ago, as was her childhood, still stirring outside, roadside
across Fifth Street, underneath anything, to fall slowly, and awake sleepless,
remembering sounds of talking news.
* * * * *
At first light any morning, we blew smoke in the corners, a breath across the
covered picture frames wrapped in winter quilts of old coats that filled the front room,
memory replaced with swamped cardboard and wet newspapers
from the guest bedroom, and a mattress of molded mothballs.
Those last few nights, her friends came to visit but they hand’t returned;
the well-wisher and rubber neck gave more than some passerby;
left and chose not to write, ditched fifty miles east, right at the bend, on the back
fork of a highway river without a number.
© 2013 Wesley T Cutlip
I am not flying high and proud today,
For one who honored me has passed away,
And now my tribute to this man I pay
By flying half mast in the gentle breeze.
My friends all do the same across the land--
It is our simple, patriotic plan
To pay respect and honor to this man
By flying this way everybody sees.
I’ve flown here through the night and through the day
Reminding of the price that many pay;
My stars and stripes a message seem to say
That I for freedom in this nation stand.
But now they come and slowly take me down
And take such care that I don’t touch the ground,
For I’m the flag that they will wrap around
The casket of this great and famous man.
I wonder now as down the road I go
If people who look on do really know
The message that I try to clearly show:
I honor those who gladly honor me.
Or do they even take time to salute
And honor those who for me took pursuit?
I know not, but I still pay my tribute
To men who know the price of liberty.
My friends who stayed behind don’t envy me,
They take their pride in skies for all to see;
They know they have this place in liberty
To fly, proclaiming freedom to all men.
I wonder, though, how many more it takes
Before all men who honor freedom’s sake
And humbly on their knees new vows then make
To honor God’s great freedom once again.
brocade canopy of greens Brown hues
~~~~~~~ a shield fashioned of leafscaled ebullience~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~ to ward the sun, feel the sun, absorb the sun~~~~~~~~~
~~~weather proofed and weather worn~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ i am Impenetrable~~solid~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~a testament to longevity~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~bicep'd branches wrestling all seasons~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~vanquishing time itself~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~~this moss'd jacket, I wear~~~~~~
~~~~~~~~~~~~a supple veneer~~~~~~~~~~~~~
~~~~my challenge issued~~~
~~~~~~~~~ my arrogance palpable~~~~~~~~~
~~~i am timeless~~~~
~~~~~~~~i am Quercus eternal~~~~~~~~
~~~~~~my seeds hard~~~~~~~
i shed to spill
~far and near~
~~deep I bed~~
thick thighroots, driving earths centre
~~~~~~~~~~ supporting my staunched resolve~~~~~~~~~ ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~holding firm to claim my part ~~my history~~~~~~~~~~~
For Trees Personified contest
By Charlotte Jade Puddifoot
Have you ever noticed how people smile at newborn babies?
Why? There is a beauty about them which stands up and demands attention.
There also is an extraordinary beauty in you. We spend most of our days mean- mugging
(looking mean), fake smiling and laughing at communication that is really not funny.
What about looking in the mirror and smiling at you every now and then? Those radiating
lips, gorgeous multi- skin colors and unique backgrounds.
The drive you possess which makes you more than one woman.
A Wife, Girlfriend, Mother, Diva and Business Woman.
If the lady of the house is unhappy the whole house is unhappy.
The strength to give birth and mental stability to raise a child in the way he or she should go.
You pray for everybody else but what about praying for you?
You care for everybody else but what about caring for you?
People say you are crazy if you talk to yourself and answer.
Well, I have discovered for myself most of the time I receive the best solutions.
Anything that is destined to better you will be talked about and challenged.
I have also discovered you are worthy to smile with and at yourself.
We are the high altitude sentinels.
Our small groves freckle the high plains.
We keep to ourselves, mostly
upon the snow burdened peaks
where our ashen trunks blend
and our barren branches cling
to icy white glitter.
As the breath of winter ebbs
we watch the crystal spring run-off
growing ever greener with envy
of how it races down the hill; babbling.
We whisper this to one another
in the crisp mountain air, solemn
as we keep watch.
From our station on the precipice
we behold fully the majestic sun
revering at dusk how it paints the sky.
In the failing warmth of autumn,
we offer in turn, our own reflection of
magnificent golden sunset skies
in our shimmering yellow foliage.
We keep company with pines,
firs, spruces, and other prickly sorts.
Conifers aren’t social, which suits us
as we keep mostly to ourselves.
Sentinels must remain vigilant, after all,
watchful for approaching danger.
We quake from paranoia, probably.
Our bark is pale, above all, for fear.
We’ve seen your kind before.
Your kind we watch most carefully.
If you look close, you will see
from our thousand dark eyes
we always look closely back at you.
Are you dangerous?
Submission for contest: Trees Personified
Hosted by: Charlotte Jade Puddifoot
*I loved the aspens when my family would go camping in the high Uinta mountain range in Utah. They are beautiful and they can grow at such high elevation (above 10,000 ft) it's really amazing.
The Banyan Tree
I the Atlas carry a home
My master strong for his
Shorts and skirts
Thunder up my shoulders
All hell let lose
With their galloping horsehooves
Ride up the stairs full a twenty
Doomsday be here
While they make a merry
Platoons of ghosts
Burst through the door
Somersaults quaking me to and fro
My arms aching in holding the floor
Left and right till muscles do tear
Roaring laughter through
Quaking windows four
Trap door opens and shuts
Opens and shuts
Down they slide
My shoulder to root
Clinging and scraping
My shins a many
One by one to the stairs
And down to the root
Witchcraft and magic
Can save me not
With wizards seven
The lord I thank thee for the
Night so starry and breeze so cool
Nightly rest to heal my sores
A generation over
Another do endure
History changes not
With more furore
Stout and and strong
With roots many more
I the Banyan will shade many more.
August 25, 2015