The house seemed smaller, now seen with older eyes...
The street seemed narrower, the trees taller..
Where once were open fields across the road
New construction had bloomed
The small fruit orchard had disappeared
But somehow we knew it would still be there....
Strangely different, ...yet much the same
There was an unfamiliar young child's tricycle
On the flagstone path that we laid...
In front of this little house that lies
Beyond the curve, where the old sycamore grew...
Suddenly, thirty years faded into that autumn day
And quickly had become a springtime of our lives.....
...of first Christmas trees,..of first anniversaries...
...a place where I cried night after night when mother died...
...and spent long, starry nights holding newborn babes....
Yes....it is all still there, in the little yellow house
Funny, but I'm glad they kept the yellow...
It has the same white shutters...
The little yellow house, with a flagstone pathway that we laid
That sits beyond the curve, where the old sycamore grew...
Oh I am but a simple leaf
withering within the gutter
one summer of bliss
now! Just an autumn flutter.
For some; destine to fall
upon stony ground, a part
of life’s infernal gyration.
Yet for those that fall
within your reach, to live
on within your soul!
While limbs that stretch
towards the solstice, create
vivacious veins as channels of hope,
a pledge of foliation continues
to endure what spring has
furnished; autumn expires.
Yes! If we can but learn
from nature’s complex simplicity,
that life be of a cycle
from the seed we are conceived,
then let spring be my beginning
winter my exultant eve!
Let our two cultures
merge as one, the
to become the sustenance;
our transfusion the
Let us breathe the
fragrance of born again;
let each slender limb,
stout body bear our
tenaciousness, each lyrical
leaf our life’s blood.
Let us mollycoddle each
precious tear that falls from a
angry sky; dance gracefully
upon the wind, embrace
on moonless nights, bathe
in summer madness.
Let us hear the bluebell call,
the daffodil pray, the apple
blossom bear witness; the
clamour of the field mouse
the pitapat of the butterfly
the silence of lovers in love.
Let us be sanctuary to the
symbolic songstress, scuttling
squirrel, vulgar urchin;
a fortress for the warrior
a haven for the pacifist
an inspiration for the poet!
The call of springtime
we will invoke,
we will gladly choke;
“This! Obliging old oak.”
Left tall and dry, lies the pillared maize forsaken.
Barren fields of corn, stand row by row.
When yellow ears have long been gathered,
a dusty crop has paid it's garnered due.
The dry stalks bend and dangle stiff remains,
and autumn winds return to whip batons and play.
The quiet fields tune harps and violins,
making harmony from husks, with swaying stalk refrains.
Beneath a lovers’ moon,
Summer breezes in.
In still-cool primrose evenings
lingering from spring,
she whispers in my ear.
I hear. . .
honey bees near lilacs,
whippoorwills in leafy trees,
and somewhere. . .
A hoot owl in the night.
Beneath a beaming sun,
Summer carries on
inhaling and exhaling sultry days.
On languid afternoons beyond
a yellow flowered meadow, she finds me
as I wade into a stream. Warmly,
she breathes upon my cheek. I feel. . .
the squish of mud beneath my toes,
cool water all around me, and
tiny tadpoles flitting round my knees.
Beneath an autumn moon,
Summer slips away
sigh. . .ing into
still-hot waning days.
I smell her fragrance in the blooms
of asters that I pluck;
I see her in a golden-glitter dusk and
I hear her in the cries
of wild geese across the sky
calling out to me her last goodbye.
Can you hear me now? Good!
I can't seem to forget you
I love what you do for me
It must be love
between love and madness lies obsession
Like always. Like never before
At the sign of the cat
have a break, have a Kit-Kat
Tastes so good cats ask for it by name
Schhhh ... You-know-who
I'd rather die of thirst than drink from the cup of mediocrity
Perfect to you
There's a smile in every Bar
Obey your thirst
This Bud's for you
One a day helps you work, rest, and play
More fun than rum
Heineken open your world
... nobody can say no to the honey nut O
a bowl a day keeps the bullies away
Our plans are based on yours
You have my word on it
Be the first to know
Who we are
The "no problem" people
Only smarties have the answer
Making it all make sense
Because that's the kind of mom you are
Sometimes you've got to break the rules
Blow your own bubble
Catch our smile?
Everything we do is driven by you
Driven by what's inside
We'll take more care of you
You asked for it. You got it
We know what it means to serve
On your side
Allied on your side
You're in good hands
We make it happen
We'll be there
Get the feeling
Im lovin' it
You are the controller
Only on Playstation
You are now free to move
Unleash the beast
Is it in you?
Do you dare?
About this poem:
To "write" this poem, I used slogans, short and often memorable phrases
used in advertising campaigns. Below you can find the name of the product
(or the company) in order of appearance.
-Verizon Wireless; Wind Song; Toyota; Honda; Calvin Klein; Saturn
-Mercury; Kit Kat; Meow Mix; Schweppes
-Stella Artois; Wella; Dell; Hershey's; Sprite; Budweiser; Mars; Malibu;
Captain Morgan; Heineken; Rice Krispies; Cheerios; Applejacks Cereal
-Assurant; Isuzu; CNN; Guardian Life Ins; Auto-owners Ins;
-Captain Morgan; Rice Krispies; Buger King; Bubble Yum; Red Hills Inn;
Pacific Southwest Airlines; Ford; Subaru; British Airways; Toyota; USSA;
Nationwide Mutual Ins; Allied Ins
-Allstate; IBM; Chevrolet; Toyota; Mc Donalds; Microsoft Kinect; PS3;
Southwest Airlines; Monster Energy; Gatorade; Curious.
By chance, I found them, there...
Three pressed leaves, with brittle veins of delicacy
Tucked between the pages
Of a tattered book of poems
Overlooked and gathering dust,
A cover worn, with broken spine
It had your names, an autumn date,
With script inside, a faded time...
Caressed in yellowed tissue, these three from ancient trees
Discarded long ago from russet crowns
A memory, kept, of time, so keen,
Of a long ago, brisk autumn day?
Where leaves had fallen so bold and gay, then twirled on down
From breezes that gently made the Sycamores sway
A place you walked and held his hand, and knew forever your love would be
Perhaps beneath those trees you made a plan for me
When winter's chill and stolen years had not yet come
Where fragrance of fall and new young love was found
From soft carpets of scarlet, red and brown
You chose these three from all the rustling hordes that grew
A tree had finished using them, in remembrance of you
They were yours for awhile...for your love, perhaps a lover's bed
now....here in my hands they lay....
They are mine to to keep, pressed leaves,
To keep for now, close to my heart instead...
What autumn has bedecked
with plants, founts and flowers,
in colors of divine radiance
the sun hangs in the fourth sphere,
then comes purple daybreak
beautiful sky brimful with stars,
none can match mi cielo,
the lovely parts of your face!
Your black hair lost in the forest
hands soft and delicate as lilies,
hidden partially beneath your coat
breasts and arms, engirdling your fantasy frame,
stay, elusive shadow of my beloved,
lovely illusion on this soft autumn day
sweet woman for whom I love so sadly,
image of enchantment I love the best...
Today autumn washes gently along the Gulf of Mexico,
I gather cones of pines in yellow baskets,
opening a liter of sparkling red wine,
come mi corazon, in the energy of the Harvest moon glow,
for inside your simple and tender heart
my numb dreams yearn to snuggle up,
just as when the night of autumn starts,
we cuddle like two birds in cozy nests!
Shallow edged with twigs, and sodden leaves
The odors of the earth, green moss and peat
The roots of quiet trees and rotting logs
The crumbling bank where cattails wash their feet
Where tiny minnows dart with lightning speed
Among the roots where wild ducks come to feed
The very core and essence of the earth
Born of melted snow, and sleet and rain
Of birds who roost amid the tree tops high
And breathe the wholesome fragrance of the sky
Trees that sway and swoon along the bank
Shedding leaves of amber, rust and gold
Like ashes left from burning autumn dreams
To listen, standing guard on either flank
O'er twig and stone, with watchful eyes so keen
While shading coves where angler poles have been
Across it's face, a restless ripple seen
Where tangled grass and weeping willows lean
Upon the shores where struggles soon will cease
This place to spend in nature's splendid peace
August eighth nineteen thirty-seven her tiny Spirit thus landed on
This distant planet, within a parallel universe her newborne galaxy..
Ancient eyes gazing as yet but another of their own; Celestial's child ?
* ...."Lawana Faye Workman-Sadberry, Born August 8th, 1937, 'Her Beauty,'
A Journey Unto Love's Stars, May 16th, 2013 * 'I Love You Mom,' Always.... *
love born ‘neath star sequins
a hand extended and life’s slow dance begins
confidential whispers exchanged
vows professed on a sun-kissed beach
eternity held in promises
leaping dolphins revel in joy
and they return when azure skies beckon the first-born’s toes to touch the ocean
when the family erects sandcastles while waves lap the shore
when the birds have left the nest as autumn fog covers the sea
when aging lovers see sunset casting a pink aura on lazy clouds
when the final glimmer of light surrenders to celestial curtains
until the surviving spouse emits a sigh in the solitude of darkness
*Entry for Nik Kulik's “Darn, I Wish I Wrote Whis” Contest