Your love song lapsed into ancient French that April day.
I only understood the words of spring and heartsore
lapsed. Only love and heartsore, I understood your ancient
words of the spring-day song into that French April.
You fabricate my pauses into repetition, silence speaks
of ages strung to rhyme in love’s difficult service
you strung into pauses in service to ages. Fabricate of
love’s repetition, rhyme speaks my difficult silence.
We practice tedium of vows till language breaks apart.
As if art should aim at science, rigorous, quantitative,
rigorous language breaks tedium. Science vows a part of
quantitative practice till we should aim “as if” at art.
Till we lapsed into language. As your ancient ages only
fabricate quantitative French strung to that difficult
practice, science speaks of tedium and understood rhyme.
The spring in service of love’s rigorous vows. April
pauses, heartsore. You and I, apart. If love should aim
my words at day, repetition breaks into silence of song.
And the storm calls to me in ways you'll never understand
A gentle call that urges my soul forth
The lighting guiding a path for my feet to walk
Between the stones and ash of all that once was
I stand in the echoing silence of the rain
It drops down upon my skin like the blessing waters of heaven
Soothing me, lifting the weight from my body
I feel at once as if I am home
Standing amid two dimensions
Caught between two skies - here and there
The night wraping around me in warmth
The gentle wind lifting me off my feet
Drops from the clouded moon washing away my body
and I am left just a soul, an essence
The storm calls me forth from beneath my roof
Beckoning me into its depth
I stand among the reeds in the basin
They dance and sway as if welcoming me
And I sway with them back
Caught up in the power that charges the air
That threatens to sweep me away
If the ground will just loosen its hold
The thunder rumbles a low welcoming growl
And I get pleasently lost within it
I am so small compared to its vastness
I close my eyes and succumb to the skies wishes
Rising higher until my feet no longer touch the ground
My fingertips touch the liquid color of the stars
A sigh drifts from my lips
There is no need of thought to stay afloat
There is no demand to breathe in air
No crushing weight upon my chest
As my lungs struggle to survive
There are no struggles here
I make my bed on blackened clouds
And give in to the call
The storm has claimed me as its own
It was such a struggle to stay upon the ground
When the storm would call me home
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
Chirping Bush Warbler
above the waterfall's rocks
Wet lovers in Motion
Pit pat pit pat
Zoom slosh and soggy felt
Runny nose, midday doze
Aching knees steaming tea
Crackling logs, evening fogs
All promises of Spring
I do not know?
Unknown to those with no curiosity
Buds, that dream of one day blooming
Being, more than they are
Touched by those who love
Protected by those who wish to love
Wishing to be more than they are
Buds, not truly knowing if they are ready for the world
Hoping they are strong enough
Wishing to be the best
You, Me, Us, Everyone
Effulgent sun proffers love
Above the undergrowth…of
Thorns and weeds
The moon unravels wonders
Hither I stand, at crossroads,
And then I gaze, at the yonder end-
The vague horizon from where I began;
And all that I may ever deem
Is that- my days
Have been a waken dream.
Hither I stand, at the edge of my dream;
Then I wonder, at the depth of my trance-
An adventurous journey through the wondrous woods;
An idyllic stroll through the vicissitudinous meadow;
And from the final station as I depart,
All that I can ever say, is that
Perpetuation has been a rouge
Of fleeting phases of my life.
St. Stephen’s College.
I do not know?
“You walked many miles,
Climbed this mountain
To confront me,
A dragon with the reputation
Of being fierce!
All to possess a so called
Chalice of Courge.
By doing all that you have done
You proved that you already possess
The courage you seek.”
The dragon smiled once more
As he saw understanding
Washed over Leonid’s face,
But soon followed sadness
“Do not ever regret this journey.
This journey was not to acquire a chalice,
This journey was to unblock
The spring of courage
That resides in you,”
Said the dragon.
“This spring will never grow dry
Unlike this chalice.
This spring is natural
And there will never be any side effects,
And one day, this spring
Will become a strong river.”
These words made Leonid stand a bit taller.
As it had turned dark,
The dragon allowed Leonid
To stay the night
As the journey down
Would be dangerous in the dark.
The dragon and the young man
Talked most of the night
And it was quite late
When they both fell asleep.
The next day,
After they said their good byes,
And as Leonid was about to leave the cave,
He turned back to the dragon.
“Dragon, even though
I could not drink from the chalice,
May I, at least, see in it?”
Asked Leonid, timidly.
Understanding how curiosity
Can gnaw at a person’s soul,
The dragon tipped the chalice
Low enough for Leonid to see in it.
The Chalice of Courage
“Sometimes, we need something
To aim for,
For us to take the journey
We need to take,
Even if that something
Is nothing at all,”
The dragon said.
Leonid nodded and left the cave.
He made his way down
The mountain safely
And when asked,
He said he had drunk
From the Chalice of Courage.
Leonid had gone on
To becoming a great warrior,
And only to those closest to him,
He would tell the true story
Of The Chalice of Courage.
The night air is cool and collective,
Running through my hair and face.
Even when I’m with people, I feel alone
In this cold blooded space.
It’s like walking through a garden
Of all your favorite foods,
But none of which can substantiate
For that one so special mood…
that beautiful frame of mind.
I only go there with you,
And only you can make it unwind.
I discovered a passion unlike any other
And in my finding I opened a world,
A world I did not know existed.
I’m on cloud nine every time I think of you,
Just the thought of you brings joy to my heart.
This garden holds many beautiful things
Many delightful pleasures,
Many cold nights,
Ecstatic times and unsystematic times!
But they mean nothing to me,
While I’m alone…
Walk with me through this garden.
Once upon a time in a new day dawning
In the crack of time between night and morning
Something caught me from yarning
It was sweet but felt like a warning
That death is night to life of a new day born in
This celebration of life beginning
The song bird took up their instruments and started singing
Awakening sleepers with a joyous springing
Ending their short death with a new up bringing
So sing little song bird
Every morning as the sun comes anew
Only recognized by the few
Flapping her wings in the dew
She’s that song bird
Cracking the dawn, she’s heard
What can she say? She’s just a bird
Can’t speak but you know her word
So sing little song bird sing
With your melody bring
The wind of nature in your wing
In your serenade there’s our fling
All I am saying
Is sing little song bird sing
I spy, a feather beauty bright
With speckled blush on breast
Basking within the thicket light
Dancing round about her tiny branch
Your fluttering sight beholding
Within the snowy briar
Bathing among the warmth
Of the morning's golden glory
Its brilliance your own crown of halo
Like a sunburst that swallows
Up the end of February's sigh
As other feathers flusters zoom right by
The ginger little fellows all dappled, scramble
A merry-go-round within a flight
Threading joyous song throughout your bramble
As further flocks of scurry, hurry fly
On parade teasing wings of faerie sprites
A musical path of crisscross kites
But, you little one are the daring, bursting forth
With higher operatic songs, to startle and scold those spry
Feather beauty bravely
Upon your perch chest thrust out boldly
Nonsense rhymes and a new found might
Chase away the imps of finch and thrush
And keep yourself the sunbeams for its light
And bask yourself once more this time
Among the drops of melting dripping snow
And gather up all tis full
Feasting here, where the wild wild berries grow
But, in the end you are their kin
And soon, my fairy feathered friend you too must go
Out, onto twittering leafy stemmy stem and off...
Into the yonder of the coming spring to rove
A silent wave rushing inside my heart
Your hand leading me so far we won't depart
Your voice I heard in away that's taking me far
Into a silent wave rushing inside my heart.
Oh the thrill it was to hear
your voice so silent as I opened up to you
so wonderful this silent wave rushing inside my heart
I was searching for a answer to a question for so long
there it was a silent wave rushing inside my heart
Your voice Lord, in ways I never found
a silent whisper so very loud
inside my heart the silent wave replied
to me your love is so divine..
So when the shattered dreams are filling your mind
please please listen to the silent wave rushing inside your heart.
Written by:©Betty Bolden
As I rise this day,
thoughts of you go through my mind.
I thank you for another day,
I pray I can do things your way.
The winter is in full bloom Lord,
the chill in the air today is cutting
through the trees,
The branches are crisp and the sky is cloudy,
I pray the day is warmed by your touch,
Lord,I love you so much.
The day is beginning now,
help me to live a life today
that glorifys thy name.
Written by:©Betty Bolden
The waters clear as I stand by the river
I see the reflection of someone long ago
As the storms come in I know I can't let you go.
Rain pours at times in this life you've given
But the shadows fade when my prayers have risen
Your love for me I've never new until now
When I see the waters clear, my reflection seems so near.
As time goes on I know you are near
Just seeing the way you help me stand
Just seeing the way you remove the fear
It helps my weakness seem so clear
That without you I am small
But as I take your hand, the walls get knocked down
The waters clear, the reflection I see now,
is you in me, this my Lord helps to make me free.
Written by://©Betty Bolden
I do not know?
My Madness, Me...
Confined by this straight-jacket,
strapped in, numb and dumbed,
a washed-out, has-been, also-ran,
body, eyes, the equilibrium of mind,
rattling like stones in an old tin-can.
Still, I am,
and I am unchained,
my dreams taking flight, soaring,
above these claustrophobic walls,
of synapses, and dungeons of stone,
swooping through green valleys,
taking a detour to savour the joys,
soaked in torrential, evergreen memories,
of a younger man, with passion in his bone.
My wings unclipped, unshackled, free,
I am, and though I am unable to see,
At long last,
I do not know?
Those Distant African Nights...
The shadows swayed in your candlelit room,
a cool breeze teasing your bare back,
streaks of lightning forked in the Johannesburg night,
as my hands stroked your hair,
kissing your soft mouth,
ever so tight.
You whispered that you loved me,
and I kept silent,
the rain fell,
the breeze teased your naked back,
you whispered that you loved me,
as my lips found yours,
the rain washed over our tender nights,
lightning and candlelight,
etching poems on your burnished skin,
a fear gnawed at me,
We parted ways,
and you could never forgive me, you said,
now, after numberless thunderstorms,
the rain that falls,
echo the countless tears that I have shed.
You are long gone,
happy, I pray,
yet the memories persist,
those precious moments shall never,
like the Jo'burg rains,
and I wish you well,
for loving me as you did,
for it was I who was not worthy,
and it is I who is not worthy,
You were always true,
it was I who always,
to give myself,
completely to you.
Fast, colors whirl by
In the springtime of our years
Now seems like a dream
Sometimes I have the courage to think of the things that made me what I am today,
My memory takes me back to terrible things far away far off into my bitter past,
My mind like a maze of dirty black alleys that smell of waste, loss and disgust,
The losses, the drink ripped away, not happy until it was all gone respect as well.
Invisible thinks of a garden where roses clustered with lilies scent on the breeze,
Bees found stores of honey in the petals of a thousand and one different flowers,
Lovers walked hand in hand along its winding path a beautiful dream of the man,
Bright with the embroidery of nature where children played in new myrtle flowers,
As Invisible thinks of this garden it is neglected but flowers can grow with weeds,
It could put a smile upon his face, a face that had never known any joy recently,
He hopes a gardener can covert this garden get rid of ruined waste, back into Eden,
Tending all the beautiful flowers that spring up with the weeds and smell gladness.
If he helped the gardener in his quest a hand might hold his and guide him through,
Maybe a hand would go around his waist to support him as well as guide his hand,
Dare he wish that the guiding hand and the support would be his angel from heaven,
A dear person to help him clear his garden and walk down the winding path as lovers.
An angel that would smile at him maybe hold his hand and squeeze it so very gently,
Would the angel talk to him and tell him that one day they would be together again,
Her beautiful grace shining warmly as she looks up to him, to her he is her hero,
Not a drunken mess that cannot cope, not a dirty vagrant, but her knight her love.
The tenderness of this beautiful scene in his poisoned mind became real he smiled,
He grinned as she sat down next to him as close a she could get then wriggled closer,
Warmth from her body not only warmed him but gave hope this what he has waited for,
She whispered sweetly she loved him and would be waiting for him and they kissed.
Invisible woke with a start and was she not by his side, was she ever with him,
A dream another heart wrenching let down and how could he have dreamed the dream,
It was so real he still felt the warmth, the impression of her hand holding his,
But it must have been a dream his own mind conspired to deliver the hardest blow.
Lost in a grief so deep, his loneliness complete he talks to Sam his imaginary friend.
These days get worse Sam they really do please help me,
I need to change but I need my drink more what can I do,
But I need to change so desperately Sam can you help?
My world has cracked and I've fallen into the crack,
But what I don't understand Sam that I was once good,
If I had any courage Sam I would be laying in my coffin,
Why does life drag you along with it I don't want to go,
Just a bit of icing on my cake Sam it is freezing cold,
Did you know this is where I was brought up my friend,
Did you know that most of the people that walk past I knew,
Sam! I know many of there people but they don't know me,
Why do they all walk past I wish somebody would help,
Maybe when I have drunk more cider I might feel better Sam,
I can remember being happy but not what being happy is like,
As Invisible sits drinking shoppers give him a wide berth and they look at him with hate.
These people Sam they look at me as if I have hurt them,
The people they are not our sort of people they hate me,
Has the world changed like I have but in opposite ways,
My life is full of sorrow drunkenness and dreams Sam,
Old sorrows wont go away new sorrows should take over,
So we have to face both the old and the new that's bad,
At night I try to close my drunken eyes it all returns,
Sam is that the same as you can you close your eyes,
Can you remember the valleys Sam the ones we used to play,
When we ran about all day Sam in the sun rolling in grass,
The old stream that twisted and turned, it had lost its way,
Floating lolly sticks watching them bounce away on ripples,
Buying bangers in November and throwing them into the water,
What I wouldn't do to go back for just a couple of hours Sam,
Just to feel the innocence and try to bring it back to now,
To enjoy what there is to enjoy and maybe get better Sam,
But that will never happen Sam we are lost on an island,
A well populated island but an island all the same Sam,
People are not like ships they don't bother to rescue people,
They just walk around or just walk away all the nice ones gone,
I remember my school Sam it's now been knocked down and left,
It has all gone, all gone no primroses in spring or bluebells,
Do you remember Sam the bluebells used to nod in the wind,
But they have all been built on, whats the use in talking,
Nothing changes from bad to good Sam remember that, eh Sam,
Still drinking his cider tears well into his eyes his nose runs and begins to quietly
to sob. He sits on the shopping parade seat, shaking as he sobs. His throat has a lump
in it so he stops talking to Sam. Invisible sinks his wet face into his overcoat
hides his misery from the people that walk past he just sat there lost and confused. His
greatest sadness an angel paid a visit to the maze of dirty black alleys that smell of waste,
loss and disgust,
On days when there are no poems to be found
When I drudge the depths of the murk
I think of Jonquils.
I get stuck on those pesky flowers
And the mental image of tiny yellow and white daffodils.
I ask myself for a poem but
From somewhere else
The whisper comes:
Poems must be about Jonquils.
You can’t have a poem without Jonquils.
I need to write about
write some more about
So, as a poet who has learned from other poets, I research.
A native of Spain and Portugal.
Grows in open spaces and forests and at the edges of lawns
Like little poems
that push their way up through the late spring snow
Vast white sheets spread for acres
On my desk top.
I stare at them and wait for a poem to happen.
From the corner of a page
A yellow tipped bud appears—
And nothing else.
When I lay down on my deathbed,
Remember me…remember me forevermore
When I give in to silent slumber,
Don’t grieve for me…
I’m in God’s hand –
A pleasant placement that I adore
When I wake up from this horrifying nightmare,
Dream not…dream not of war or violence
When I try to reach for my goals in life,
Be not afraid of me…I’ll be a success
Be not afraid of thee…He wants you to have progress
Shower me down with empathy and elegance
You sprout splendidly like a flower in the brink of Spring
Tower over me…protect me from
You don’t doubt –
You are one-of-a-kind and You are a GRAND KING!
When I grow weary and old,
Don’t desert me like a worthless garden full of weeds
Don’t desert me…bury me in the damp soil like seeds
If you do decide to leave me behind,
That would be just rude
When I have high hopes and if I’ll ever be as bold as The Lion,
Don’t take away my strength, my gift, or my gratitude
When I fall asleep on eagle and dove wings,
Don’t worry about me!
My heart will take divine flight
When I approach heaven and its radiance
Reigns upon my undying soul,
It brings me love from somewhere quite a delight –
Don’t reject the precious light
The precious light…
You’re a grand king!
You blossom with might and victory
I crown you with
Loyalty, Awesomeness, and Golden Pride
Sunshine bursts with lovely adjure
All over the land of no snow, taboo
In all the land on sunshine days a blur
Closing doors life outdoors is the rule
Open minds open hearts fear away
All values clear on sunshine days everywhere
'Tis not a dream, competition slows, as snow goes
Steam rises from the land somewhere
The glare of sunshine glances off a window and rolls
Along the heart, into the aged, balancing on a beam
Belongs to each not someone else, races along a stream
The silver rills gleam upstream- sunshine coming clean