Awakened from my walking reverie by movement ahead, I spy a Red-Tailed Hawk perched upon the wrought-iron railing of the flood-wall. The hawk is regal, stoic beauty. I stop walking in hopes of urging the bird of prey to stay its perch. It does, filling me with a sense of relief. I wonder why it let me get so close; if it was my calm, thoughts-up-in-the-clouds, meditative stroll that somehow rendered my thoughts and steps silent enough to catch the bird unawares. We eye each other, a bitter gust of mid-winter wind blows against my face; ruffles the back-feathers of the hawk. I am overwhelmed by a sensation how the two of us know exactly what we are, who we are, what we are supposed to be doing overall, but we are presently caught in a moment of unknowns, letting these unknowns erase the lines that keep us separate -- beast from human.
I take a step closer, causing the hawk to finally alight, and I am struck by its vibrant feathers adding a dash of colour to the surrounding monochromatic grays.
The hawk flies only a short distance ahead before landing on the railing again, so we re-enact the scene of this play. I come closer, closer, closer, until the hawk lifts up, flies a bit further along the river-walk, before landing again, until eventually it probably decides, that indeed, this human is going to traverse the entire path, for the hawk flies up into trees located further ahead. As I walk past the trees, the hawk launches out of an evergreen, with twigs in its talons. The bird flies over the river; a river made tumultuous by ice-melt.
in Winter's gray light
a Red-Tailed Hawk paints the sky
with its feathers,
my soul lifts, follows the bird
over an ice-gorged river
The hawk lands on the base of a church steeple, and disappears behind an ornately carved corner. It appears as if the steeple is attempting to pierce the snow-clouds with its tip, trying to tear gashes in the sky, until spring blue bleeds into gray. On this Tuesday afternoon, does the church seem personified because it is devoid of Sunday parishioners milling in and out of its thick wooden doors? No matter how hard the steeple tries to break-apart the clouds, the grand sky dwarfs the church, causing it to look like a toy model. The church fluctuates between looking like a miniature-scale model, and an architectural feat.
the steeple pierces clouds
looming overhead -
the snow-laden clouds
make the church appear small
Passing the church, I find it ironic how today the church is empty inside, yet on its steeple and roof-lines, countless animals are nesting, making this House of God their sanctuary. Slowly making my way home, I ponder about the hawk, how it is not only a predator amongst prey, but a predator amongst predators -- it flies around in plain sight, yet also hides right in the middle of the city. Coming up to the path leading to the back-door of my home, I scan a small trail of footprints in the snow. The footprints vary, but all are familiar to me.
It is at precisely this moment that I fully acknowledge the Red-Tailed Hawk and I to be kindred spirits; how similar we really are.
the path leading home
is a winding snowy trail
of few footprints,
for only my loved ones know
where I truly live
Copyright © Chris D. Aechtner
As River flows.
As river flows so peacefully
I sit here just content to be
As Ravens fly so high above
This morning, it was made for love
It enters deep into my soul
It’s sweetness making me so whole
This softest morning mystery
Oh, how it reaches out to me
The trees, they dance so gracefully
They wave, and flow upon the breeze
Bird song drifts from happy branches
Oh lord, how this my heart enhances
Silence rules above all this
A kind of stillness filled with bliss
Captivates my very core
Oh, I’d not wish for any more.
The river peaceful, calm and still
So wonderful it makes me feel
As it reflects those dancing trees
I watch and let the morning breeze
Caress my skin so tenderly
Then all is gone, there’s only me
The emptiness of all that is
I’m sailing on the waves of bliss.
15 March 2014 @ 0705hrs.
Copyright © Peter Duggan
A white dove flies gracefully across vision
Shines as transparent pieces of ivory joy
I give you a Candle of Love, for inspire and encourage you
Blown gently upon a soft warm lovely breeze
Falling slowly like a ripe apple
With sad confusion, I promise you heaven
Everything will fall into place and gives you, perfect pleasure of life
Love whispering on wings fluttering deep
It is possible to change your tomorrow, if you seek your dream today
To watch the light change i pray for your beauty to return
My arms are full of flowers, the beauty the unfathomable grace
Reborn under a promise of color inside the mist bouquet dream
Written by Liam Mcdaid & A-L Andresen :) 11.04.2015
Copyright © All Rights Reserved
Copyright © liam mcdaid
Poe laid flowers on her grave
His lost Lenore
One he’d love forevermore
But doomed to see her nevermore
Storm clouds expelled true daylight
Yet near her grave on a dead oak tree
An ebony raven stared and seemed to agree
“Nevermore,” the bird mocked, flying off with ironic glee
Clouds burst, pelting the cemetery with rain
Back to his horse and carriage Poe ran
Was Poe a pawn in this raven’s game plan
An unhealthy racing of his heart began
Arriving home, Poe sought to forget
But there was the red-eyed, sinister bird
Perched on the pallid bust of Pallas, it said just one word
“Nevermore,” was all Poe heard
Stealthily the bird had entered through an open window
“Did God summon you to add to my grief?”
Poe pleaded, “Will I ever find relief?”
“Nevermore,” cried the demon, to Poe’s disbelief
Poe tried to rid his home of the tormenting invader
“Fly away; take your word with you!”
But the evil visitor would not bid adieu
Its single word was malicious; Poe could not misconstrue
When rainfall ended, the raven flew to the windowsill
“Be gone!” Poe screamed, his voice filled with hate
It eyed him once more, leaving Poe in a crazed state
But loving memories of Lenore it could not desecrate
*Written October 1, 2014
Copyright © Carolyn Devonshire
Did you hear the night bird call
as Summer tumbled into Fall
and leaves piled up against the wall,
it's then you miss her most of all.
Did you hear the night bird sing
as Winter tumbled into Spring
though flowers bloom, no joy they bring,
her absence colors everything.
Did you hear the night bird cry
as endless seasons tumbled by,
unanswered still, the reason why
she left you here alone to die.
Did you hear the night bird's song
as time forever tumbled on,
memories, the grief prolong,
without her everything is wrong.
Copyright © Danielle White
The Morning Sun Speaks
Vainly, I smile at a fine morning sun
ponder today's tasks waiting to be done
Embrace and savor this very sweet morn
enjoy life, that is why we were first born
Sparrow drinking at my lone bird fountain
clouds soaring into another mountain
I see the carefree bird fly far away
consider the high price I dearly pay
Happily my soul spoke to the red sun
life races onward as I freely run
My toils are but life tokens to be spent
spirit lives with our love paying no rent
The morning sun spoke yet again to me
live, love and grab hold of life yet to be!
Robert J. Lindley, 08-27-2014
Copyright © Robert Lindley
wrapped tight in brown cloak,
flashing Mona Lisa eyes -
Copyright © Pandita Sanchez
Where twilight songs search of beauty
like syllables broke apart
I count each step to find your heart
where velvet words resonate
and azure moonlight softly hangs
in brushed hues of melody..
Poet ~ Rick Parise
Contest ~ NIGHT CREATURES
Muse ~ Nightingale #5
Copyright © Rick Parise
Dedicated to those who work day and night in all kinds of weather to bring us our stuff. We all know we get cranky if we don’t get our stuff!
My daddy was a truckin’ man, back in ’63
hardly ever home with his family of three.
Mostly drivin’ Idaho, highway 95.
Drivin’ in the winter, hard to stay alive.
He headed up to Grangeville, loaded with some gas
had to cross the twister — dreaded White Bird Pass
Road coiled like a slinky, full of mule-shoe turns.
Wasn’t any guard rail then, just some earthen berms.
Middle of a blizzard, wasn’t fit for beast nor man.
Daddy had no choice, there was no better plan.
Chained the drivers like he should, headed up the hill.
Taming curves on snow-packed ice, required an iron will.
A mile from the summit, the blizzard took a break
What my daddy saw, surely made him shake.
A wagon full of cub scouts, some mama at the wheel
crossed the line a skiddin' — he likely heard her squeal.
In a fatal instant, a fateful choice he made
he saved a pack of lives, but his truck went o’er the grade.
A jackknifed trailer skidding weighed dang-near fifteen tons
but it saved a tearful mother and dozen mother’s sons.
Somehow Daddy managed, to make that truck a dove,
it touched the wagon’s bumper, like a gentle velvet glove.
In the mirror he watched, as he headed out of sight,
the wagon gently kissed the uphill bank, ending one bad plight.
The choice he made that day, became my daddy’s end.
His truck rolled down the hill, his very final bend.
Now there is a new road, on that very hill
Modern, straighter, safer, because of daddy Bill.
If you’re ever out that way, be sure to stop and read the sign:
“A hero lived and died here, way before his time.”
Copyright © John Wulf
Oh my precious,
I know that you know, how much I love you and
You know that I know how much you love me.
Then where did you go, my dear?
I’m surprised you didn't have fear.
I know it was the nature’s call,
I know it was your right to fly.
May be you are searching me,
May be you are happy dear,
May be you intended my dear,
May be you flew by chance.
Whatever happened can’t be undone now,
All that I want to tell you now,
Just be brave my child, life’s not easy now,
Hunters are all around, stay alert and be safe, Sweetie.
I wish you get someone to love,
I wish you fly the highest,
I know I’m the sinner, coz I kept you inside.
But I did what I felt best for you.
Forgive me my baby,
Fly high and reach the heights,
And someday if you see me down on earth,
Do not hesitate my dear, do not hesitate.
With love from Mumma
Dated : 8 Dec. 2014
9th place win in contest 'My Wish For You'
Sponsored by Isaiah Zerbst
*My little bird ( Mitthi meaning sweetie ) flew away on 3rd Dec. 2014. When I got her four and a half years back, she didn't know how to fly or even to hop. We used to jump in front of her and one day she too hopped and the journey continued… She used to follow me from one room to another and she knew that food is in the kitchen .
Copyright © Archana Garg
In the debate between accessible and difficult poems
Poets' poems and poems for people
Only the single poem and private reader matter
Both kinds and anything between can matter or not
Solid or made of air, a vase or heavy clay ashtray
One word repeated or many like a lei
An acquired taste, like wine, and like wine
Not sustenance, yet men die with their miseries
Uncut without it, news and mere matter
I advise everyone to keep a personal anthology of poems that matter
Or not. Perhaps it should be novels. Stones, insect wings,
Feathers, Birds you've seen, People loved.
Copyright © Robert Ronnow
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.
Copyright © Kristopher Higgs
When I was young and life was easy
I never thought but of the next day.
For the young, things can be so breezy
It is the child's way.
I never thought but of the next day
Until that day came upon me.
It is the child's way
And I did not want to see.
Until that day came upon me
I was carefree like the bird on high.
And I did not want to see
The dark adult horizons that would make me cry.
I was carefree like the bird on high
Only to be trapped by love
The dark adult horizons that would make me cry
Crushing me down from above.
Only to be trapped by love
For the young, things can be so breezy
Crushing me down from above
When I was young and life was easy.
Dan Cwiak ... written for:
Paula Swanson's Pantoum contest
Copyright © Daniel Cwiak
T he birds have been around for centuries.
H ow sweetly singing, winging on their way,
E vanescent as a summer breeze. . .
B ringing bliss supreme; then gone one day.
I n your bloom of youth, one bird appears.
R adiant, you’ll soar to splendor’s height,
D runk with joy till passion disappears.
S tung by love undone, you’ll face your plight.
A las, your bird has turned into a bee.
N aïve no longer, you have felt love’s sting.
D evoted love you’ll seek as remedy!
T hough you’ll wish to hear a new bird sing,
H eartache may await. You must recall
E ventually sweet passion’s birds become. . .
B ees! How can you know real love at all?
E yes open, you must seek a faithful one;
E phemeral are the birds and yes, the bees.
S till they will persist for centuries!
FOR PD's Acrostic II Contest
Copyright © Andrea Dietrich
Cherry blossoms declare it is Spring
Infatuation's breeze is in the air
Dormant days have burst into green
Wonder and awe are everywhere
Love is birthed in those who dare
The young boys compete for attention
And young girls give charmed sighs
Spring butterflies too many to mention
As innocence is kissed goodbye
The birds and bees you can't deny!
Sponsor: Francine Roberts
Contest Name: A Spring Day in English Quintain
Copyright © Lyric Man
You're a little angel
whom always brings a warm smile
When sunshine flowers with a radiant glowing beam
carnations blossom fluttering petals kiss full of joy
happiness a rose crowning every single word
dances to your sweet melody
To hear your silent heartbeat within whispers echo
one blessing born filled with life flies grace shines
forever and always feels the warmth grow
Inside one's self a presence carried by you
on the sweetest soft gentle breeze
When the birds softly sing in the meadows
lifting lashes mirror reflections calming waters
Faith still holds inside beautiful paradise
our eternity embraced upon golden sands
within destiny's dream touched by your feathers
it's your heart and soul that has wings
Copyright © liam mcdaid
Cindy had a little Bird,
Little Bird, little Bird,
Cindy had a little Bird,
Its feathers were yellow as the sun
And everywhere that Cindy went,
Cindy went, Cindy went,
Everywhere that Cindy went
The Bird was sure to go
It followed her to school one day
School one day, school one day
It followed her to school one day
Which was against the rules.
It made the children laugh and play,
Laugh and play, laugh and play,
It made the children laugh and play
To see a Bird at school
And so the teacher turned it out,
Turned it out, turned it out,
And so the teacher turned it out,
But still it lingered near
And waited patiently about,
Patiently about, patiently about,
And waited patiently about
Till Cindy did appear
"Why does the Bird love Cindy so?"
Love Cindy so? Love Cindy so?
"Why does the Bird love Cindy so?"
The eager children cried
"Why, Cindy loves the Bird, you know."
Loves the Bird, you know, loves the Bird, you know
"Why, Cindy loves the Bird, you know."
The teacher did reply
Copyright © John Long
When love lies in a crypt unnamed
And it's fire lives on lips untamed
And the wild fury wakes from it's sleep
to find the who or what it seeks
With thirst and hunger of the starving
Armed with strength men find alarming
and the valor of a silent knight
Antisipating whatever unknown fight
built for battle and not for flight
Searching both the days and nights
for the thing that illudes the sight
Made of love and things measured
identified by hopes and things treasured
Found only by the eyes of the soul
to satisfy an insatiable goal
Where only grace can intercede
and the lonely has met its chosen seed
To give to it's own special need
That one of which the dreamer dreamt
That angel for whom the eyes have wept
The secrets that one's heart has kept
All fulfilled to the deepest depth
To the place where inspiration ferried
and to the person imagination carried
All wrapped in things called thought
Inescapable this thing where it's caught
My heaven, where my paradise is you
My perfect, is everything you do
My soul has found its rest
with love, that turned my crypt into a nest
With you, my soul has been blessed
with peace, and this is happiness.
Copyright © john loving iii
Perched on a sturdy branch on yonder tree
Pouring out your heart in sweet melody
With a full throated birdsong rhapsody
Filling me with such joyful ecstasy
Do you sing sweetly to woo your lady
Who listens somewhere on a nearby tree
Her heart must surely melt at the beauty
Of the song you sing so effortlessly
Is your song a joyful testimony
To honour nature's musical bounty
Given to creatures from earth, sky and sea
Whose music blesses all abundantly
Or is it part of a profound mystery
Heralding a supreme divinity
Which pervades all silently and deeply
O bird, I'll ever be grateful to thee
Copyright © john beharry
Stork flights in unison To teach unity to every person
Holding the neck extended Aligning the body as if amended
With legs pushed behind To cope with blowing wind
With wide wingspan like the glider In a well-defined order
Hover with one, as leader Of course, watching is a wonder
With the flame of foresight, Stork sets own nest on height
Bears young ones into the wing Benevolently while growing
With wings, provides shade to the young chick So that they could learn to pick
Causes to clatter to communicate About the impending threat, to indicate
Maintains link with the group To get the team spirit, recoup
Revisits the old-aged-mother To attend to issues that may bother
Cares the mother, with fresh feed As the mother may need
Stork is a bird of highest spirituality
In Hebrew, stork means love and loyalty!
Above poem is from “EAGLE EDUCATES ENDURANCE! AND OTHER POEMS ON NATURE ” by Shri.V.Muthumanickam.
Copyright © V.MUTHU MANICKAM
I loved a man, because and because.
He was dear to me then, and now.
Don't search for reasons for my because...
You'll never find them out.
I loved a man, for why and for why.
A different man, you see.
Don't search for reasons for my for why.
The doves are in the trees.
The doves in the trees have secrets, you know.
They coo them all full out.
But only the birds know what they say -
why I loved both the men.
Copyright © Julia Ward
Look from inside yourself and you will see.
All the splendor of God's creativity.
Flowers mountains bird bees
Animals and plants of all species.
Beautiful sights to please the eyes.
All people of every color shape and size.
Look at yourself your are God's prize.
Built by his hands so healthy and strong.
Given the strength to always carry on.
The beauty of life is open like a book.
In every little cranny and nook.
God's love is always there
All you have to do is look.
Everything is within your grasp
All you have to do is ask.
Look to God to complete all tasks.
See the bird fly and see his grace.
The beauty of God is in every Human's face.
Look! His love shines brighter than sunrays.
Look to God and you will be happy all your days.
Copyright © Marni Robinson
Oh, to be a hummingbird,
hovering near your flower
to float above your petals
for hour, upon hour
To taste your wondrous nectar
as I feel the morning dew,
to drink in all the mysteries,
the mysteries of you
Copyright © David Brown
Come you lonely bird!
Walking forever in this same lonesome street!
Still waiting for my special someone to meet!
I have passed beyond the best of my years!
With each step forward, the blind end nears!
Know how far I've come, not what's left to go!
It has been hard all along, will it always be so?
Hear cheers in houses around my own silence!
I can't put up a fake smile, I know no pretense!
Sometimes I wonder was anyone made for me?
Or I had to live by myself, that were the way to be?
If you are one feeling deserted, join me in my walk!
I want to hear your stories, and have mine to talk!
Come you lonely bird, let's together make our nest!
We'll travel the walkways of life till we're put to rest!
Poetry by Dr. Asghar Nazeer (LinkedIn profile http://sa.linkedin.com/in/drasgharnazeerlinkedinprofile)
Kindly read this poem with a lovely matching photo on LinkedIn pulse at https://www.linkedin.com/pulse/article/20140725182929-167523528-come-you-lonely-bird-let-s-together-make-our-nest-we-ll-travel-the-walkways-of-life-till-we-re-put-to-rest and my other 28 poems with similarly captivating pics at LinkedIn main author's page at https://www.linkedin.com/today/author/167523528?_mSplash=1
All my posts are shared through my Facebook community page "Hear those pics Say what clicks" https://www.facebook.com/PicsAndPoets You are most welcome to visit this page as all my posts are public and everyone may tag, share, comment on and like them.
The same posts are also shared publicly and are accessible to everyone through my Google+ page https://plus.google.com/+AsgharNazeer/posts
Copyright © Asghar Nazeer
(this is a type of quatrain called Swap Quatrain,
wherein the fourth line of each stanza
is actually the first line, just swapped around)
Another Time, long long ago,
there was no Rain; there was no Snow.
No reason was there, and no rhyme
long long ago, another Time.
A desert only, lifeless land -
boulders, pebbles, grains of sand;
hot and windswept, barren, lonely
lifeless land; a desert only.
From Sky was tossed one day, a seed
onto this land so much in need,
whose dreariness would soon be lost.
One day a seed from Sky was tossed.
In Sun’s bright heat, the small seed grew
until an egg it changed into.
It needed only moisture sweet.
The small seed grew in Sun’s bright heat.
Sky clapped loud sound; a bird appeared.
The egg was pulsing as she neared.
White feathers fluttered to the ground.
A bird appeared; Sky clapped loud sound.
As Rain came down. . . A sudden change!
The bird turned into something strange -
A lovely girl with feathered gown!
A sudden change as Rain came down.
With Rain’s soft fall, the egg had burst.
Emerging from the egg came first
One horse, then two. Fantastical!
The egg had burst with Rain’s soft fall.
The horses grew beneath big Sun.
They thrived; with Rain they were as one.
Along with her, like Wind, they’d run.
Beneath big Sun, the horses grew.
Twin beasts and Rain, that dry land’s three
became a new world’s trinity.
And with them, green and springtime came.
That dry land’s three: twin beasts and Rain.
With so much spring, with Rain’s pure grace
came poetry into that place.
Bright flowers bloomed when she would sing
with Rain’s pure grace, with so much spring.
Variety, the needful thing,
Rain prayed out loud for Sky to bring.
And so was born for her to see:
the needful thing, Variety!
Then came down Snow from up above.
This counterpart was Rain’s true love.
When white Snow ebbed, sweet Rain would flow.
From up above, then came down Snow.
Sweet Rain, white Snow, atop each horse,
still ride the land and set the course
of when their seasons come and go.
Atop each horse, sweet Rain, white Snow.
By Andrea Dietrich
Inspired by A Rambling Poet's Contest:
"Rain: the Story"
Copyright © Andrea Dietrich
My love is like an Owl
Knowledgeable and deep and wise
My love is like the Raven
With magic behind its eyes
My love is like an Eagle
Its lineage crowned most high
My love is like a Lark
So swift and scarce and shy
My love is like the Peregrine
Soaring silent above the hill
My love is like the Dove
Spreading peace and good will
My love is like the Stork
Bringing life so fair and bright
My love is like the Sparrow
It’s intuition for life’s fading light
My love is like the Albatross
Floating high on fair winds
My love is like the Crow
The darkened portent that it sends
My love is like the fabled Tern
Crossing continents the status quo
My love is like the Penguin
With its tuxedo in the snow
My love is like the Mynah
Able to sing any song or say
My love is like the Rooster
Heralding each brand new day
But most of all my love is like the Lovebird
Her loving song oft heard
That perfect pair to my person
And the inspiration for these words
Copyright © James Burns
It is strange
how things that we see
and take for granted
in everyday life
should suddenly instil
in our minds
a new awareness
of their presence
A silent moment
a brief pause
from life's ever quickening pace
a moment of peace -
in times like these
a common thing
like a dried old tree
becomes alive with beauty
It stands like a quiet sentinel
who has witnessed
many an event
Time has passed by
but it remains
silently standing there
What secrets do you store
in your noble branches?
How many events have you recorded
that man knows nothing of?
In your younger days
when you wore your mantle of green
you nested the carefree birds
to their offspring
you gave protection
When the sun scorched the earth
you gave them cool shade
On a cool windy night
you gave them warmth
How pleasant was their song
to your ear
as they sang a song of thanks
You were a playmate to the children
When they romped at your feet
or climbed on your branches
Time grew older
and the children became lovers
You saw them kiss in your shade
soft with the light of the moon
The aura of their love
touched your leaves
and you blushed
they have all gone away
but you still remain
still waiting and watching
How many untold events
have you witnessed
faithful keeper of secrets?
O that my soul could commune with you
and share of your rugged beauty!
Most Noble Tree!
forgive me for my
Copyright © john beharry
I have been walking on this trail
For a very long time now.
I don’t want to lose the others,
So I have to hurry!
Go, go, go, hurry, hurry!
As I ran, I tripped and fell
On the tracks.
I lost the others!
I can’t see them, and
My leg aches!
“I can’t walk!”
I cry for a long time,
Waiting for something to happen,
I’m all alone.
I felt so sad,
Sink, sink, sink in my tears.
But I heard a voice, though small,
It called right to me,
I feel it.
“Where are you?
I’ll come right now!”
He was hurt in the same way,
“Don’t worry, I’m here for you.”
“I’m not lonely anymore,
Because you are with me!”
And so does he.
“I can’t find my way back to the rail,
But I found a better path with you here.
I’m really glad
I got to meet you!”
The heart is warm.
I don’t feel sad,
I’m better with you around!
Very very warm!
I never want to
“I may not have met you,
Unless I cried my tears,
But I feel so much better with you!”
There’s no need
To cry anymore!
I may have lost the rail
I was walking upon,
But no matter what,
I will always find you!
The heart is bursting with warmth!
Copyright © Unfragment Broken
Standing out in a field alone, a little white flower named Daisy longed for someone to share her world.
One day a blue flower named Bachelor Button entered her world they became friends.
She knew by his name that he was not the propagating kind, but that didn’t stop their relationship she called him BB short for best bud.
The seasons of Spring & Summer they enjoyed the sun, laughed in the rain and held on fast in the Fall.
Winter came it was long and hard they were both covered in a blanket of snow, not knowing whether they would ever see each other again or even survive .The snow fell then came the ice, this went on for months.
The Sun shone brightly the first day of spring. A few days later warmth of the sun melted the snow, Daisy popped up .
I’ve been waiting days for you to come out, said BB, they both chanted hooray!
The snow was completely gone in a few days, the birds started building their nests , bugs were crawling around ,butterflies began to visit the two flowers. I wish there were more of us Daisy said, to BB.
They laughed as the sun and wind blew through their leaves. Then it started the sun and rain took turns until one morning the air & field was filled with the smell of flowers.
Daisy and BB looked at each other and asked what kind of flowers are these ? they’re not white like daisies they’re not blue like bachelor buttons. They did not know the birds and bugs carried the seeds from the two of them and the caterpillars buried them under the soil.
The seeds from the new flowers were then carried by the winds many miles away, they landed in fertilized gardens and flourished, although they faced danger everyday.
as they were called WEEDS ..
The Gardener pulls weeds out of the garden so they don’t choke the flowers, which cost a lot of money and require lots of maintenance.
However there was a Gardener who saw her friends spending hours weeding their garden , that they didn’t have enough time to admire and enjoy the labors of their love
So she set out to give a home to all the weeds ,she provided a place where they could fit in and multiply, they required no maintenance, rain provides their water .
The best part of all is their beauty is in the eye of the beholder.
Ask my granddaughter-- What are those flowers in the garden ?
She will answer "WILDFLOWERS " their parents were Daisy and BB
Copyright © kj force
Ah Consuela! Invoking vast vistas for visions of green Spanish eyes,
I discern them again where she left me back then, as we kissed when she parted, my friend.
So I’m daring to tread towards the klieg lights ahead, where I’ll wait till I see her ascend.
Ah Consuela! I’m watching, she teases the mirror with green Spanish eyes;
Her serape entangles her ebony bangles like lace on the sorcerer’s looms,
And her capes of the night, she drapes tight to excite, and her fan is embellished with plumes.
Ah Consuela! I’m watching as spectators savour her green Spanish eyes;
Taming wild concertinas, the dark ballerina performs on the concert hall stage,
But she shies from the sound of ovation unbound like a timorous bird in a cage.
Ah Consuela! I’m watching, she quickens the pit with her green Spanish eyes,
As the cymbals shake, clashing, the floodlights wake, flashing, igniting the wild fireflies,
And the piccolo piper’s inviting the vipers to coil in the cold caldron skies.
Ah Consuela! I’m watching the shimmering shadows in green Spanish eyes
As I rise from my chair and converge to the stair with a hesitant sip of my wine.
Though she doesn’t deny me, she wanders right by me with neither a look nor a sign.
Ah Consuela! I’m watching, she waves to the stage with her green Spanish eyes,
(For her senses scoff, scorning the biblical warning of kisses of Judas that sting,
With her pierced ears defeating the echoes repeating) and smiles at the bluebird that sings.
Ah Consuela! I’m watching faint embers a’ stir in her green Spanish eyes,
For a soft spoken stranger enveloping danger has captured the rhyme in the room
As he slips into sight through the scent of the night and the breath of her heavy perfume.
Ah Consuela! I’m watching, she gauges his guise through her green Spanish eyes
- From his gypsy-like mane, to his diamond stud cane, to the raven engraved on his vest -
For a faraway form, a tempestuous storm, lurks and heaves neath the cleav’e of her breasts.
Ah Consuela! I’m watching the caravels cruising her green Spanish eyes;
With the castanets clacking upon the deck cracking, he whips ’round his cloak with a whiz
And without sacrificing, at mien so enticing, she floats with her face facing his.
Ah Consuela! I’m watching, the vertigo veiling her green Spanish eyes,
While the drumbeat pounds, droning, the rhythm sounds, moaning, of jungles Jamaican entwined
In the valleys concealing the vineyards revealing the vaults in the caves of her mind.
Ah Consuela! I’m watching life's carnivals call to her green Spanish eyes,
And with paused palpitations the tom-tom temptations come taunting her tremulous feet
With her toe tips a’ tingle while jute boxes jingle for jesters that jive on the street.
Ah Consuela! I’m watching, she rides summer tides in her green Spanish eyes,
And her silhouette’s travelling on ripples unravelling and shaking the shivering shores,
As she strides from the light to the taste of the night through the candlelit cabaret doors.
Ah Consuela! I’m watching, she dances till dawn flashing green Spanish eyes,
With her movements adorning a trickle of morning as sipped by the mouth of the moon,
While her tresses twirl, shaming the filaments flaming that flow from the sun’s oval spoon.
Ah Consuela! I’m watching, she masks for a moment her green Spanish eyes.
Then the bluebird that sings ceases preening her wings and descends as a lean bird of prey -
As she flutters her ’lashes and laughs in broad splashes, his narrowing eyes start to stray.
Ah Consuela! I’m watching fey carousels spin in her green Spanish eyes,
And the porcelain ponies and leprechaun cronies race, reaching for gold and such things,
Even being reminded that only the blinded are fooled by the brass in the rings.
Ah Consuela! I’m watching, she shepherds the shadows with green Spanish eyes,
But as evening sinks, ebbing, the skyline climbs, webbing, and weaves through the temples of stone,
While the nightingales sing of a kiss on the wing in the depths of the dunes all alone.
Ah Consuela! I’m watching the music and magic in green Spanish eyes,
As she dances enchanted, while firmly implanted in tugs of his turbulent arms,
Till he cuts through the strings, tames the bluebird that sings, and seduces once more with his charms.
Ah Consuela! I’m watching, the citadel steams in her green Spanish eyes,
And behind the dark curtain the savants seem certain that nothing and no one exist,
But though vapours look vacant, the vagabond vagrants remain in a mythical mist.
Copyright © Terry O'Leary