Whilst walking through the woods one day
A crystal brook there, shone so gay
The sun was shining oh' so bright
As brook reflected all it's light
Buzzing insects all around
Oh' they made a delightful sound
Birds flew upwards to the sky
These parrots made a hue and cry
Carpet of flowers with lovely scent
It seemed this morn way heaven sent
The flowers opened to the sun
This walk for me was so much fun
Sheep bleated from far away
Oh it was such a lovely day
Oh Joy, oh joy, it’s wonderful
As this new day is born
Watching rabbits run around
Upon this velvet lawn
Seeing the greenness of the grass
As sun peeps through grey clouds
Oh, life, oh life, it’s beautiful
Its silence is so loud
Life’s sweetness, how I worship you
I see you everywhere
Although my body’s fading now
Well, I don’t even care
For gentle love seeps into me
I cannot help but say
To you sweet power up on high
I love you more each day
Oh you, who made this loveliness
Sometimes you make me cry
Such feelings fill this heart of mine
I really don’t know why
Oh joy, oh joy, it’s wonderful
This bliss within my soul
I thank thee for this life I lead
For making me so whole
21 July 2015
Words- The heart of imagination
Saying lower to animals and birds,
and that they can't speak words,
Can't be true, take some time to ponder,
what if we can't construe, ever wonder ?
Use your subtle heart of imagination,
they are no doubt His superb creation,
Better than us in many ways,
just feel their heavenly grace.
See the tiny ants walk in a line,
and bees humming over flowers alpine,
The birds flying to nests on a sunset,
as if rhyming perfect to His trumpet,
We brainy ones believing in progress,
are materialistic with morals on regress,
While to them all material is beyond,
singing in His praise hymns and song.
What for we live and then fear to die,
rules of nature they care not defy,
Food chain is their heart of imagination,
Wars and boundaries our fascination !
Written November 12th, 2014
For contest 'Words- the heart of imagination' by Brian Johnston
Wolf And Owl Take Shape
Smoke and red cinders rise together in retrograde simplicity
On counter rotation, winds sing through birch and oak
Marbled moon remains sour yellow through the ecliptic edge
Cryptic night, where owl and wolf find warmth and cover
Nestled in the coarse blanket warn by Tabitha, the young one
Her tribe sleeps through winter
She holds them in her mystic spell, mild heart and smile
They breathe cold mist together in history hallows
Unfolding cold reveals their open eyes
Reaching out into the distance as wolf howls
Unknown mysteries of life feel their kinship
Heaven opens up to them crisp on the fire light
Wolf moves his wool but only slightly in a twitch
Owl takes flight, returns alarmed
Back to the blanket and young girls arms
It rests with comfort feathers by her heart
Wolf and owl take shape, Tabitha smiles
They all take one long last breath and hold it in
Wait till spring to release it again below the mystic stars
10/17/14 Free Verse, Prose Poetry, haibun – Poetry Contest
Evening slipped out of the cave
Crossed the rock wall
And buried the city in soft kisses
Sun god‘s dripping soup
Gave her child a sunset glow
She went back to her cave
To sleep, to grow
Night birds on the prowl
Growl of dark panther
Unsteady footfalls of ghosts
Cacophony of fledglings
Snakes ripe with venoms
Green eyed owl preening feathers
Deep in jungles fairies play
Near a lake moon sneaks in
Embers of childhood
Smoldering in deep.
While you sleep I tell you all of the things I keep inside throughout day.
Now that you can hear but not listen I find them much easier to say.
My hopes, my dreams, my fears, and everything in between
Your subconscious hears so keen, or so it seems.
My tongue is soft; I speak so sweetly
Knowing your reaction will never greet me.
Tonight will be different in what I want you to know.
It has everything to do with what I can’t help but show.
I hold no claim to any religion but you’ve given me a place for my faith.
Somewhere it will never stale or lose its lavish taste.
You’ve shown me something I can see, touch, and feel,
And so before it I choose to kneel.
I know I don’t say it but I miss you every day.
Sitting, thinking of the perfect words to be my choice,
Yet when you call I can’t find any of the right words to say.
I’m just happy to finally hear your voice.
Even just a moment is enough to sooth my heavy heart;
Fearing the ends of conversations knowing we’ll have to part.
I’ll never be too far from you, always within arm’s reach,
And in your days of darkness I’ll be the light that you will seek.
I’ll never let you leave too far from me, I’ll stay close behind you in this world;
Secretly protecting what is mine, you will always be my girl.
I only want the best for you so the best of me I will employ.
Faithfully yours, I will always be your boy.
I close my eyes and kiss your soft sweet lips
And see the very best of you in loving bliss.
I see past the physical which makes you attractive
And focus on the things I can’t see in which I’m attracted.
Your thoughts I’d love to hear them all.
Of the things you speak disinterest never makes its call.
My day will come, I know someday I’ll be the only one.
And you I will pursue viciously,
Because I’ve given you the greatest gift I can give, to love unconditionally.
Yes our day will come, I know someday we’ll be as one.
And you I will pursue viciously,
Because I’ve given you the greatest gift I can give… to love unconditionally.
~Woody Wood From the Hood~
Deep, inside yourself, you walk a sour way of life,
Carving my name, on every tree you see, with a hunting knife
You logs in, then logs out
A Birdman So Fickle, He Stinks of doubt!
Blind today, bald tomorrow,
Big Bird, will be your only friend
I can't seem to forget the day, you shed your final skin
Revealing a darker snake, than the one in my garden
Leaving the word betrayal, up to the imagination
Trust not the fool, who thinks his halo is heaven sent
Using a fake ballpoint pen dietary supplement
Thinning out his wings, and losing the symbolic meaning
Aging in a way, that spreads crow's feet from top to bottom
Sapsucker revolving yellow as if it was always autumn
Pecking Hard Wood, MR Pecker of all woodpeckers
Forgetting who's the real Home-wrecker
Your dragging pants are no bother, Mr Woodpecker!
I've gotten used to the tree talking and your creative vision
Let's just say, "Gangster to Gangster, I've given you a mission."
Keep rapping and tapping the same old street sign,
Woodstock, on demand, crap the peanut punch
Whatever suits you for breakfast and lunch
Don't forget dinner's also about me
Peck away with deception, reveal your sullen evil feathers
A disease urine Birdman, doing it snoopy style
A flightless, lightless liar, nothing about him's worthwhile
Keep manipulating the weak, whatever turns you on
I'm not ready to shoot you down with my shotgun
A great Blue Heron
The park behind our house recently redone
And a Great Blue Heron has discovered fish
I saw the heron standing in tattered wings
Like a tattered skirt and tattered grass
I wonder, what scissors have cut them all?
A graceful neck, curved at crest
Ready to catch and strike when hungry
Strolling around the pool to snatch a fish
And sup on the fine supply.
Oh, what riches, thinks the Heron
What a delectable dinner
Among the tall grass, a stop to dine.
Oh, Heron, teach me to stand alone
Without hunchback’s coat on one feet
Show me how to bend my legs
Teach me how to swallow without chewing
Show me how to puff down into a secret
So that only those who know me can find me.
Teach me how to open wings of six feet span
Unexpected and perfect, a crone in the sky.
September 29, 2014
Form: Free Verse
Seventh Place win
Contest : Animal by Regina
-honestly...I have no clue why...-
As I began to rest in my fickle dream
Suddenly I was stirred from my sleep
I was greeted by many a whisker
And petulant snores from my sister
The cat mewed ferociously and purred
For there on the other side of the window—was a bird!
It chirped like a wobbly siren—the ass!
And I swear by my bosom it was pecking the glass
Suddenly, I sprang up in alarm
I swear my bosom was gone!
The cat then motioned at the feathered brat
For her bright breasts seemed extra fat
Of course it wouldn’t have been that
But I couldn’t just blame the cat!
I opened the window only a crack
And asked very kindly, “May I have my breasts back?”
Such pride she attained from my bosom
Yet why? –how would she use ‘em!?
The mockingbird merely turned a goodbye
But the stolen twins were too heavy to fly!
She plopped to the ground and squawked
I would have laughed, but I was shocked!
The cat scratched at the window and with her eyes
Said, “Prithee, take your breasts—she’s mine!”
Before I could think I had fallen to the ground
To a booming, most terrible sound!
My eyes then opened to a cat on my head
As the booming sound continued from my sister’s bed
Uplifting morn by the lake
As I sit here beside Lake Joondalup
With silent morn as yet not woken up
Green parrots sing from gnarled old wetland trees
As leaves they dance and whirl on the morning breeze.
A tiger snake he comes, a swimming by
As gulls they screech and fly into the sky
Two kangaroos, so big, and strong, and grey
They seem so happy on this perfect day
The air is filled with so much mystery
I sit and watch filled with serenity
As the sun peeps through the clouds there in the sky
From its orange hue, I hear a raven cry.
As Morning silence Fill’s my very soul
The dawn, arrives and make’s me feel so whole.
30 June 2014 @ 1432hrs.
For Elly's Sonnet contest.
LITANIES REHEARSING ADIEU
from May blooms,
ACTUAL FORM: Waltz Wave
***Sponsor Kim Merryman
Contest Name Shall We Waltz?
10:22 pm, June 13, 2015
Observe how the ants labor without a peep;
Note the fine artistry of the spider's web-spinning;
Who will wake the bear from his long winter sleep?
Stand in awe of the hummingbird flapping its wings;
Listen to the lovely melody the songbirds sing;
Watch the majestic hawks leave their nests and soar;
Bask in the rising sun's heat at the ocean shore.
An invitation into God's presence
comes from the sun, the creatures, and much more.
All of His creation emits His essence.
Colours bounce in euphoric ecstasy
and another day is birthed, in melody,
as the dawn brings forth emerald reflection,
the sun playing on the looms of nature's glee
with the nightingale's whistle in a harmony.
Dull on it's perch,
determined in his search
for a jewel in creation's crown,
a partner for his song to emerge,
he prepares to lurch.
He spots her on a lake,
a white rose, a snowflake,
drifting on crystal serene,
a beautiful image to make,
her beauty in its surroundings partake.
This fragile goddess
with his best song he tries to caress
and the brooding bud,
a stunning glory ageless,
unfolds to his tune, guileless.
Yet when she tries,
her voice defies,
and he knows she will not sing.
A sudden sorrow in her eyes,
she bows her head and sighs.
But song, his voice like a lyre,
her beauty, her eyes of sapphire
make for a perfect match:
all creation they admire
together compensating for flaws like ice and fire.
The tiniest egg
Sanctuary for new life;
Dinner for many.
The day will come....
When I would touch the
Waves of the Air
I would fly with Birds
I would dance with Peacock
the day will come....
The day will come...
When i would swim with Ducks
I would sing with cuckoos
Where nobody will be there
to pull a full stop.
Where i would really enjoy my life
Where I'll not have the fear of the cruel
who will tear
my wings and destroy
I am looking for the day
just that day
when I'll be a Bird and
fly above the horizon
When I'll forget my past
and be the free ME!
Ducks spin on warming
brown puddles like shards of ice
melting in glass bowls
A fledgling crow huddled in
the grass beneath the drooling
gazes of my curious dogs.
Its eyes were blue.
And in the tree, its mother screamed
In my hands it lay, gently confused.
Too young to fear me,
it opened its thirsty beak and greedily
swallowed water from a syringe.
And outside the window, its mother screamed.
I scratched its head,
stroked its breast,
and boxed it for its journey
to a refuge for homeless birds.
And, as I carried it to the car,
its mother circled overhead.
Little Tweety Bird,
Had the cutest lisp ever heard.
Sylvester the cat wanted to eat him,
But Tweety always managed to beat him.
My knees were the things that
kept me up and my skin is my
cutting board my eyes are the
rain clouds to the fire running
down my arms and my heart is
the fire place that keeps me
burning so calm
Peace of nature shows
how relaxing life can be
and can show you truth
Not advertising that flippant flick. I just want to know
where my blooming flivver is. It ruffles my feathers no
end to find out, when exiting the embassy,
that my buggy's whereabouts are a mystery.
I must meet Sherry 'cause her right toe
wants a sweet kiss. Did the camel tow
my car? That blasted mammal! Sherry's dear
foot can't wait! Please do not tell me the deer
took my buggy! That son of a Witch
me with a very pricey mulct which
Not another loathsome tax
to put up with! Oh no, Lord, please!
I beg thou hearken to my pleas!
Now, let's come down to tin tacks.
I need my bloody car! A choice bass
cooked by Sherry awaits me. The crass
specimen who's got my car is so base,
and I'm so cross! The camel has a bass
voice that creeps me out! I do not want to
deal with him. I cannot even stomach two
secs the sight of the deer. He's ugly too.
On returning to his flat, mad as a goat,
Ivo found on the door, the following note:
I hereby inform you that your awfully and
illegally parked streetcar has been impounded.
Come pick it up at the City Hall and
bring cash with you for there's a fine. 8 hundred
The Crane from Ukraine.
Blimey! That heartless crane! I won't give her a buck!
Now I know the ruffians weren't the camel and the buck.
Well, let's be fair, it wouldn't be cricket to pass the buck.
I didn't park properly. It's my fault. That's it. I will not buck
at the fine.
I got my car back for free. How? l told the crane;
"I'm in a hurry to meet Sherry who needs me to canoodle
her feet. I'll have tonight for dinner a bass fish with noodles."
"If a foot massage like the ones I used to get in Ukraine.
you give me, I will be happy to call off the mulct." said she.
I pleased her feet very much. She loved it. Then we got some tea.
I'm on my way home to eat some bass,
with my beloved and awesome lass.
It's so nice to be able to dine
without having paid that gruesome fine.
There lived two pals in London Town
Who just hung out and roamed around
They called each other Tess and Boo
And folk said "what's it coming too
You cats and dogs are supposed to fight
And with each other get uptight"
The pair said "well we do know that
But we're not the normal dog and cat".
They were walking through the streets one day
When they saw this bird all pink and gray
The bird said "hullo both of you"
To the cat named Tess and the dog named Boo
As he looked them slowly up and down
And his face took on a puzzled frown
He said "now dogs and cat's they fight
And carry on and get uptight".
And so they told him how it was
They said "We don't fight because
We listen to our hearts do, we
Which keeps our minds all lose and free"
They Said "Now won't you join us bird
We'll be your friend you have our word"
And so the two became the three
And they were such good company.
Socrares Dec 2 2003.
I do not fly but waddle far.
For fun I slide on my tummy.
And if I have my eye on a mate
I'll feed them fishes so yummy!
Singing a love song is common for me.
To attract a mate I'll croon.
And if I leave the colony sometime
I'll surely be back soon.
Under the water I really can't breathe.
But can hold my breath a short while.
I spend my time mostly at sea.
But when on shore I make humans smile.
You'll point at me and giggle out loud.
I know you think I'm cute!
But don't try to capture me I plead.
Just admire my black and white suit.
A little bit like you humans I am.
Sometimes I mate for life.
Yet other times I play the field.
Perhaps even cheat on my "wife"!
So here I go to dive and plunge
where the water is deep and cold.
Just some things you should know about me.
I'm amazing-if I may be so bold!
for Archaic Poet's animal personification contest
Perched upon my window seal while looking up at the moon
I was listening for the night bird's song when an welcoming
"Who", echoed across my room.
Hello Wise Old Owl, with your bright eyes and gentle call.
Tell me how to achieve such wisdom sitting in the trees
that stands so tall.
He turned his head and again he gave a "Who".
You, I said, Your the one I am talking to.
Don't you have any words of wisdom for the one
sitting in your presence and talking to you?
Another "Who" danced into the air and just then I realized
why he didn't share. It wasn't because he didn't care.
He is the keeper of knowledge in the forest place and he
charmingly protects the animals from the human race.
I understood his wisdom and questioned him no more,
and wished the Wise Old Owl a goodnight before closing
the window and heading to bed, across my creaky floor.
A Christmas walk in soft sun of winter
Across crisp fields of umber and green,
A sharp breeze blowing with freedom
On their faces, aglow with the hope
Of seeing one again – a bird; their bird,
Soaring and diving defiantly so.
The eagle. Powerful, swift and so
Free. Wings outstretched on currents of winter
Warmth, rising higher than any other bird.
It’s golden feathers shimmering over green
Hills and clear blue skies, in the hope
Of spying prey, running in a last bid for freedom.
They looked and walked and talked in freedom,
Enjoying the country lanes and paths in so
Carefree a manner; such a rich land of hope,
Bursting with creatures alive in the winter
Meadows: robins, rabbits, hares, a green
Woodpecker, and many a chattering bird.
They paused to rest and listen to bird
Song and breeze, relishing in the freedom
At the heart of nature, so fresh and green;
When suddenly, they saw a bush shaking so
Violently. They stopped and stared, the winter
Wind? Too strong. They watched in hope
Of seeing something curious, or in the hope
Of discovering if this at last was their bird,
Hunting untamed in the wilds of winter.
They approached, careful not to intrude on the freedom
Of the wild, but all they could see was a fluttering so
Urgent, flapping wings, a rubbed-raw leg, a thread of green.
A blackbird was trapped on a branch by green
String; frantic, desperate panic, yet hope
Shone in its eyes, pleadingly so.
They spoke softly, carefully untying the bird,
Which flew off to the wind in a cry of freedom.
They felt proud, liberated, in a wonderland of winter.
They ran home for dinner of green sprouts and festive roast bird;
Bred in darkness and stench, no hope of daylight or freedom.
Incarcerated, deformed, wounded so bad, in a long-hardened winter.
Spare a thought for your turkey this Christmas…
As children are
They all want a pet
I wanted a horse
My little sister wanted a pony
Our parents compromised
They got us a goldfish
Of course we had to name our new pet
We compromised yet again and called him
Now turtle would spend hours and hours
Running and jumping around an around in his watery fields
A very fast Turtle he was
We decided to film our little turtle and so we did
The show off would make jokes and acrobats
Turns out he was a real comedian
(also an expert at cards, especially Go Fish)
To out surprise, an evil man didn’t like our wee turtle
Why he called him a darn little monkey
He said he would shatter our fish bowl
Well he called it a Monkey bowel
Then one day we saw something miraculous
A second gold fish
Turns out he was a she
Happily now my sister and I both had pets
She a wee little pony and me
A great big beautiful black stallion
She name her Pony Grasshopper
So worried she was, that the evil man from far away
Would do great harm to us, Grasshopper and Turtle
She said we should get on our pony and horse
And ride away on the ocean, far away and safe
Then all of a sudden, our neighbors Korean Siamese cat jumped
Right through the window, and right smack into the fish bowl
Poor Turtle and Grasshopper, all over the floor
My sister cried her little heart out that day
From that moment forward, I just could never get myself
To drink Orange crush again
Three of my chickens are dead and they have left a hole in my heart,
I want to mark their passing, prove that they were alive and very much loved by me,
They were real, breathing and full of life from the start,
Oh they made me laugh, so hilarious and quirky; such fun hidden away on our allotment,
They did no great deeds, were not famous and hardly anyone knew they were there,
Alert and trusting, they followed my steps, looked at me with their heads to one side, wondering and seeing,
They slept in my arms and closed their tiny eyes when I stroked under their beaks,
Laid eggs and loved wholemeal bread, sometimes combining the two in to a healthy treat in their run, pecking and pinching whatever they could,
Stood on my spade when I was trying to dig, and ate the biggest worms I ever did see,
Had me running in circles to catch them, jumped out of the hutch when I thought I’d put them in,
Kicked over their food tin so I’d give them more and always hid in the shed,
Rearranged their sleeping compartments when I had just cleaned them out, kicking the neat straw all over,
Ate all of my winter cabbages and nibbled at my sprouts, sat on the compost heap and looked around, Queens of the allotment!
Were brave in the face of danger, survived against the odds,
When poorly, they slept cozily in my basement, and understood when it was time to die,
They may have only been chickens to most, but to me they were my friends,
Always pleased to see me, they needed me, and greeted me loudly every day,
Three lives have been taken, but I will not forget them,
I will look back and smile, and talk kindly of Muriel, Edith and Ethel,
For they were the three hens that taught me that all life is precious, no matter how unnoticeable and small.
Very early Fall morning…crisp and clear.
Sitting on the patio, sipping hot coffee.
Only my path to and from the bird feeders,
Rain gutters hung on the stockade fence,
Has disturbed the beautiful, glistening dew
Blanketing a lush, green Bermuda lawn
Awaiting the season’s final mow and a Winter sleep.
Early morning sunsmile creates a mist, a little fog,
That artists have great difficulty recreating.
And the sprinklers are making music too….
CH CH CH CH CH CH CH CH
As I filled those bird feeders,
Only the patient cooing of white wing dove
Waiting in the surrounding trees
Could barely be heard above the sprinkler.
CH CH CH CH CH CH CH CH
Feeders filled, I walked away.
The air erupted with bird song.
Our giant privets were alive with hungry sparrows,
Each announcing breakfast.
All the locals seemed to understand.
The robins and larks, the finches and cardinals chimed in;
But only the jays’ sharp calls could be heard above the din.
What a ruckus…but so beautiful a song,
It is a ‘wall of sound’ to be envied by rockers.
Orchestrated by Mother Nature….Mrs. God.
The sprinkler's barely heard....
ch ch ch ch ch ch ch ch
Squirrels wait out of sight.
One may bark now and then, but
They’ve learned that patience pays.
It’s not just time to feed those damn birds;
It’s time to feed the greedy squirrels too;
And chow time is well worth the wait:
Sunflower seeds. Peanuts. Suet. Dried fruit.
You can almost hear them as they gobble,
“Mmmmmm. Man, this is the good stuff, Bro’.
I mean the good stuff. What a life.
I’ll never leave…not even for a girl squirrel.”
It’s as if they think they’ll never eat again;
As if we hadn’t been feeding them
Every day of their lives…and their parents.
If we could tell them apart.
They would have names.
All this and good coffee too.
What a beautiful Fall morning.
walking silently with the spirits of the woods
the stunning acquaintance of a snowy Owl
Hearing songs from many around yet not seen or found
careful your crossing a coral snake or copperhead
preparing to wave all rights to see beauty to live
one piercing bite from the red and yellow snake
deadly shy snake sudden death may await your fate
stillness and earth is touched with Cherokee blood
many tribes with sage and fires dances the brave
you see the wild mustangs ride and deer in mind
the squirrels the rabbits and wolves you hear
the woods once a many land to explore
becomes extinct with Mans desire to build more
how much can we take before it is gone forever
entered " in the woods contest "
Burning down all around EVERY LIVING SOUL.
UP IN SMOKE, You choked? That MIRROR YOU KNOW
YOU BROKE? The flames you stoked. UP IN SMOKE.
Not a living soul has an ABODE to call their own. No
HUT NOR HOME. Be stronger than strong sang the playing
Song. Now WHO STIRRED THE VERB? EVERY LIVING
SOUL HEARD THE WORD. "WELL, on the brink of the brim
Of a empty bottle of rum" grunted the sober bum.
HOMELESSNESS ABOUNDS. BURNING DOWN ALL AROUND.
THE FIRES RAGED WITH MORE BLAZE. Then hear the
FURIOUS FLAMES FLICKER AND FIGHT FOR FUEL.
EVERY LIVING SOUL CRIED WITNESSING THEIR FUTURE
Up in smoke, cursed the soaring bird. Quenching, down CAME
The crushing DELUGE FROM HOSES, SEEMING to be every
Where in mediocre DOSES.
"THE END OF LIFE AS WE KNOW IT " said my fine feathered
Friend first to fly.
The end of life as we know it, repeated I, and I AM ON HIGH.
THAT'S THE WORD. AMEN, AMEN AND AGAIN AMEN.