I go where mountain streams converge
And stand with pitcher on the verge
Of a transparent tranquil pool
Where waters merge lucent and cool
The grass still glistens from the dew
I dip the jar in aqua blue
It overflows its precious gift
As with both hands I gently lift
To raise the contents to my lips
So that I take the first few sips
And then I drink the rest in haste
There is ambrosia in the taste
That brings to mind my faithful muse
The sky is filled with scarlet hues
I am entranced and stay until
The sun goes up; once more I fill
The water pitcher to the brim
On wings of time I fly and skim
Till I arrive at heaven’s gates
Which lead to where my master waits
The zodiac path is where he lives
He lays the rules and ever gives
To freedom lovers ample space
To roam about at their own pace
And heal the fragile human race
To make the world a better place.
A water bearer I shall be
With care to serve eternally.
Author: Paul Callus ~ 13th July 2014
Contest: Zodiac Sign
Sponsor: Leonora Galinta
Earth is what we become and makes us whole.
Air is the first and last thing we breathe in.
Fire is what consumes us and eats our sin.
Water cleanses us, mind, body and soul.
Spirit is in us all and makes us who we are.
Without these we would fall oh so far.
Invite them into our sacred circle and pay tribute.
As we are condemned, we are resolute.
We love fiercely and fight for our freedom.
Ignorance breeds fear and unwisdom.
Thank them for gracing us with their presence.
While we give our thanks and recompense.
Exhilarated and feeling like a newborn child,
Wow this circle's "magic" is wild.
Against the sea or ocean tide,
with poetry and pen allied,
I found the water muse inspires
every word the hand requires.
How winsome is her rustic art
that from recesses of the heart,
bring well-established syllables
and the flow of countless ripples?
By gaping river's open mouth,
she'll end the wordlessness of drought
and as the poets' voice is heard,
she'll sail on his dramatic word
then drift into those wordless streams
on metered verse and rhyming schemes
until each one who ever wrote
has cast their work of art afloat!
No more water hosing or truncheons beaten on bare feet,
no nightsticks cracking skulls on Bowery streets.
No cold water straitjackets or rubber padded rooms,
no laudanum doses sweeping minds like a broom.
Now its pretentious centers deluxe
brazenly charging big bucks
for twenty-eight days of schmoozing
to turn off the boozing,
and swallowing mega-vitamin pills
to ward off the chills,
or sit in circles with stories to tell
from like-minded survivors of hell.
More humane we're trying to be
even offering treatment for free
but it is still a choice at any cost.
To choose a sober life or, to an early death be lost.
From a beam he dangled as the rope choked out his breath
So very soon to end his life as he does the dance of death.
The grandma sees her grandson and has to take him down
She lays him on the carpet that is colored brown.
High up on a structure eyes are starring down
Will blackout over come him before he hits the ground;
The morbid and the curious have finally gone away
There’s only those who clean the mess, it's just another day.
Dinner on the table with plate and fork and knife
The only thing that's swallowed is a pill to end her life.
Who said that it is painless have they looked around the room
The pain does carry on and on far beyond the doom.
With a knife the cut was made now blood spills on the floor
Soon the shadows of the dark will come in through the door.
Who said there are no victims; reactions carry on;
This tragedy repeats it’s self; through days that take too long
With rocks put in her pockets in water not so high
She sucks the water to her lungs that's how she chose to die.
The husband of Virginia Wolf, now he knows too well
His days are filled with misery and his life's a living hell.
Desperate to escape he points the pistol to his head
The triggers pulled, a roar goes off; and just like that he's dead.
When she opened up the door she saw the pieces of his brain
The blood in puddles on the floor; was like water from the drain.
Blood is on her shirt; where she held him for too long
But it's simply far too late the life in him is gone.
Who says that it is painless have they looked around the room
I know the pain does carry on and on far beyond the doom.
A canvas washed with pastel hues
In palest pinks and liquid blues
Perfection seen through Monet’s eyes
Recounting where his genius lies
The lilies floating on the lake
The water, greenish blue opaque
A fluid mix of subtle tints
A flowing dream with fragile glints
This work of art from sable brush
Perception, depth, a hazy blush
This masterpiece both cool and warm
All bound up in poetic form
To gaze in awe, to stand and stare
To find oneself transported there
The tranquil view, unbroken, whole
Will heal the heart, rebuild the soul
The peace, the calm, the beauty rare
The artist’s gift for all to share
Margaret Foster- 21st September 2011
A small romantic rain poem dedicated to hubby.
wrote by Mrs.Madhavi.Suyog.Pagare
"Ohhhh Rain..Shower again!!!!! "
Showering in the rain,
Draining the pain!
Enflueraging the essence of arenicolous sand,
Feeling blessed porting on this beautiful greenary land! Trees were roaming
under fiercing winds,
Thanks nature for benevolently so kind!
Sip of sizzling coffee With Caramalized sugar,
Cheers hubby to accompany me my gelling agar!
Wanna capture this Driplets of aromatic water nearby lake,
So that I can make an icy snowflake!
That's amazing, "but ohhhh God, I wish my honey is here".
Wrote by Mrs.Madhavi.Suyog.Pagare
A is for algae, red, green, blue cells, soaking up sun, sliming teeth
B is for bacterial mat, clumping underneath, earliest born, never asleep
C is for coral reef, the place we all find cover or the sand parrotfish chew and release
D is for diatom, all seeded calcium, all float free, all denizens barely seen
E is for eelgrass, nursery meadows of the anchovy, and other browsers of green
F is for fan worm, filter feeder like a flower, 8000 species on which fish feed
G is for giant kelp, floating on bladders of air they’re forests of cold waters clean
H is for helmet, the royalty of snails who protect our feet, queen, emperor, king
I is for isopod, the chameleon crustacean, they color match what they eat
J is for jellyball, or cannonball jellyfish, not upside down or moon, avoid their heat
K is for keyhole limpet, favorite food of ochre stars, will erect its own wall
L is for laver, the sea lettuce of nori, it swirls red skirt as ocean falls
M is for mermaid’s purse, the sack of the skate whose yolk keeps them alive
N is for nerite, the prisoner striped snail of the rocky zone as numerous as a hive
O is for oyster drills, the snails that slurp oysters and use them to lay eggs
P is for pleurobranch, a sea slug answer for oranges, with one active leg
Q is for quahog, the bivalve seaman who can survive eating the mud
R is for rove beetle, the one waiting to snatch the unwary beach hopper for good
S is for saxitoxin, those red tides produced by mating that can paralyze humans
T is for tubular sponge, they squish, bore and encrust as space lends
U is for urchin, those spiny skinned balls, no eyes or noses but dig food in sand
V is for Venus, Music Volutes dined or Vampire Squids skimming along land
W is for whelk, not the musically inclined, but the slow moving snail in a shell
X is for X and a half, the six rayed star, hungry for anything on the half shell
Y is for yucca, blooming on the beach, they bloom nice and tolerate the sand
Z is for Zostera marinara, the address of eel grass when they're feeling grand
All of this green life is what crunches, stinks, dries and slips underfoot
The rest that find the housing and dining compatible means someone’s on the look.
THE LAST DROP OF WATER
Clouds of despair will block out our sun
Trials and burdens each weighing a ton
God brings those clouds into your life
Not without conflict, discord or strife
Are they punishment or sent to refresh
Love incarnate through a Saviours flesh
Do not flee from raindrops that may fall
Let them linger enough for mercy’s recall
Grace will fall –heavenly drops from above
Till the last drop of water-a chastising love
A drought has been declared, no hose pipes can we use
There has been such light rain for two years, but I think it is a ruse.
The day the drought was declared the heavens opened up
They have not stopped precipitating; one certainly dare not look up.
The water flows as free as lager at a barbecue
Constantly pouring, persisting it down, and the same problems ensue.
We are drenched in all sorts as drains do rise, and rivers flood their banks
But the drought warnings still apply there are supposed empty water tanks.
The spring rain is falling not like tears on babies’ cheeks
But pouring and pouring constantly, and has been now for weeks.
Still the drought does linger but I think I know the ruse
They will put the bloody price up, and watch us blow a fuse.