(This is a specific type of Aster with full name Aster 'Blue Autumn')
Aster 'Blue Autumn,'
The shining sky of dusk
is drenched in splendor.
Tremulously, I watch shadows that arrive
all to soon-to purloin sun's last rays.
Aster 'Blue Autumn,'
how you thrive
in fields amidst a throng of goldenrod!
And always you forego
the chill of nights that come
to steal away the last of Summer's days.
Aster 'Bue Autumn,'
and you're re-birthed
from star dust that she cries-
to bloom beneath blue skies until the fatal time
when breath is snatched . . . Pensively I wait.
For Tracie ~*~ Indigo Dreamweaver's
~ Flowers or Stones ~ Poetry Contest
Now my tendrilled soul,
Has found its pergola-- Christ--
To wind its way up....
I do not know?
are like my thoughts
falling down into my mind
sending goose bumps down
Their cool aftermath
cleanses me of my thoughts
of fear and uncertainty
about what tomorrows
pain may bring
They make me feel,
wet with creativity
drenched in my optimistic
raindrops, my thoughts
leave paths of pleasurable
distress, and hope of success
which road, less traveled
may be the best
Forget an umbrella
when these raindrops
arrive, I walk outside
arms open wide
Ready to Receive
the mind storm may bring
because raindrops are
as my thoughts, falling
down into my mind
sending shivers down
My brain, yearns
for the rain, to wash away
the pain, tomorrows worry
One special drop
could speed up life's clock
to the time
I can handle my own
and not dwell inside my controllers
For raindrops are,
like my thoughts
falling down into my mind
sending goose bumps
down my spine
Shadows of light and darkness
Contrasting images of El Capitan
Half Dome sliced by an ice age glacier
I met him that day in Yosemite
Touched by the unique qualities of his photos
Fine prints are displayed at his gallery
I marveled at his skill
Black and white contrasts
Create spiritual moments and introspection
I brought him home with me
His work now hangs in my office
Ever inspiring, ever grand
*Written March 15, 2015, by Carolyn Devonshire in honor of black-and-white photographer Ansel Adams and his stunning photos of Yosemite National Park.
O, boisterous clouds,
Why do you pout on high?
With friction so among you,
Will lightening too,
Not soon cross the sky?
In bumping heads,
You cause the thunders burst
Then in your sorrow weep
And once again your tears,
Quench earth's thirst.
I stand alone surveying aloft,
Your strength and might.
But then like curtains,
You're parting once again,
For God's sunlight.
Seeing a rainbow hanging,
In a distant portion of your sky.
I need not ask the question,
Where do you go
When not in sight,. or why?
The sweetest sounds of burning trees
A gentle stroking in the breeze
The calm has lasted past the storm
Cloudy visions, Satan’s roar
Too many sights have passed my way
A time found only in the haze
The softest screams are running bare
My aching bones creak as I stare
You walk a distance towards me
The fall’s eternal, can’t you see?
I’m a memory in your heart
I whisper to you in the dark
The battle’s started at the end
No one is coming to repent
The sinners grab their wine from prey
No judgment calling here to stay
The sport is reckless to be told
The one is laughing at his souls
It falters nowhere to be sure
The power grows forevermore
Like a spirit in the wind
I have no say in where you’ve been
But cross the line to come to me
And pay the price for ecstasy
You walk a distance towards me
The fall’s eternal, can’t you see?
I’m a memory in your heart
I whisper to you in the dark.
Orphaned footsteps round the old place.
Pitch black soil, packed deep with bartered
coin and Indian heads – wood and otherwise,
coat her worn leather shoes, Hutterite chic.
The long land screams within its own silence.
Prairie sage burns somewhere, a ghostly smudge
for the undulating grass and, those it serves.
Its alive scent makes the dead turn towards
its head - and the barely living turn to listen.
The impossibly endless horizon holds its bright
blue at bay, begging acknowledgement for
its self-professed being and looming enormity.
She looks at the broken window glass and
through the tattered, delicate gray lace. “Those
were hers.” She whispers to the one who listens.
This great-great-granddaughter sees the curtains
as they once were – wistful in the hot Manitoba
wind; fresh and lowing with the honest elemental
scent of aspens, hope and bare-knuckle wash boards;
always fresh; shifting in the cry for solace in summer
shadows – never as still as this moments endlessness.
Blowing through the deep brown of splintered pine
front doors; cracking the announcement of cast iron,
rot and burnt wood comes the simple statement of –
I lived. This mother of five young does not cry,
just yearns to walk in the old ones footsteps;
to know them loved; hear the birdsong through
unbroken bedroom windows for a 5am waking;
feel the resistance of dough on fingers that beg
to be broken, and kiss the twisting undead, living.
The burning of the noonday sun taps her whole,
marking; branding her pale Swedish skin its own.
The red sting of burnt breaks her inward silence,
welcoming her familiar face home.
© Kristin Reynolds 3 29 2009
*Reposted for John's Summer Celebration Contest. This is a personal celebration;
celebrating and honoring my great grandparents who settled in Manitoba after leaving
Sweden and Denmark. This celebrates the summer of family, at least for me. We went there
every summer until it was gone...
She remains a partial gift
some have none, yet some have much
for her scales, sideways they tilt
yet we crave her soothing touch.
With jars of scents, ointments and creams
ourselves we paint seeking her face
fanciful, our grotesque masks seems
yet she stays mocking our ways.
But true beauty in these things lie;
the morning dew on thirsty leaves
the new-born sun that's up so high
even in Nature's smiles on lonesome cliffs!
Its beauty yet again plunders me,
Into magnificent realms that hide
Deep within my every thought
Where I ,like a new tenant,
Seek comfort to reside
In the warm abodes of Winter.
It has come yet again
With its white painted sky
Like a dripping white towel
Whose waters slowly subside
Like a pain that has been eluded,
Its gusts that blow across
The many prolonging miles
Bringing all windows to shudder
Like lost whispers and voices
Found and compiled
Into a vague resonance.
Its unmelted snow
That at every corner lies
Lingering for the tepid
Sun of Spring to rise
To melt away
Like an unwanted memory.
And all that it holds
Is but a fraction that glides
A sheer reflection of the world
The snow, wind and rain of
The season inside
Your sweet nectar
wraps around my senses
like jungle vines
steady drums beating
Your heart near mine
Your strong hands
hold me suspended
by my waist
Just enough pain and strength
against my supple skin
For my taste
The musk of your
sculpted body and the forest
has me going wild
But yet, the tender way you
protect me, reminds me of
Being a child
A safe familiarity
with a strain of animalistic
Your invisible hold over me
leaves me arrow poisoned
Unable to function
My long dark hair wraps you
with smells of coconut and ocean Sun
your locks full of mud and enemies
together, my warrior
We make One
My garden brings the fairies,
You will never know the hour.
The sun may just be peeping
Past the apple tree in flow'r.
See them? No! But I discern
Pixie clues they leave behind:
The fragrant thyme they danced upon . . .
I am always sure to find
A dewdrop mirror clinging
To a blossom hanging low;
I hear their tinkling laughter
When the breezes softly blow.
Sometimes I think I spy them
Riding on a firefly's back
At dusk above the garden,
But their pathway's hard to track.
Jumping off, hiding themselves
In moss blankets--soft delights--
Their flying steeds unharnessed.
"Go to sleep, my garden sprites."
Obsessed with the thought of you
wondering if it's only me or
if you sometimes remember the sweet things you've said
and if you meant them how I took them
or if I'm just obsessed with what's in your head
Obsessed with your very sentences
Every response I take personal
I know it's selfishness
Have you not noticed my eyes?
They hold secrets that only you can unlock
if you'd just take time to fill the thick juices of my pride
It's just boiling with lust, passion, trust and distrust
and other things I obsess over so much
I find myself writing to free myself from this prison I've created
where only you and I reside
I become confused about what I'm really feeling inside and I
try to rid the thoughts that are highly debated as false and I
begin to cry and
think of casting love spells so that the universe can deliver this affair
I know it's unfair
but I don't care
I'm obsessed with what hasn't happened between us
I'm obsessed with your heart and that the fact that
I don't think you've even noticed my selfish innuendos
and secret undertones that blatantly express my lust
Or maybe you have and you calmly remain in resistance of distrust
If you could only read my mind by simply touching my fingertips,
I'm sure I'd catch you out the corner of my eye biting your bottom lip
I'm obsessed with the passion and thoughts I think you have
Obsessing over an experience that I may never have....
To reach out and touch you
Feel your warmth on my skin
As sun sets on pillows
And mist laden sorrows
The dark windswept willows
Now sleep till tomorrow
Then come dance again
As the sun sets up high
And the whispering wind
Carries a soft kiss of Spring rain
As sun sets on pillows
And snow covered mountains
The crash of swift rivers
Lift fleeting light fountains
As dainty droplets fall
Sending you sweet kisses
Springs soft kiss of rain
Come dance again
As sun sets on pillows
And oceans set motions
The sweet songbirds chorus
Fills a million emotions
To reach out and touch you
In Sring soft kisses of rain
Come dance again..
It could have been you
Hiding behind the post
Stretching out your arms
Your tiny face upturned
To the early morning sun
Waving at me softly
While swaying with the breeze
It was only wishful thinking...
But you look so much the same
that I walked a little closer
and nearly called your name
A scent so very subtle
Drifted through the air
Reminding me of the last time
I tied a ribbon in your hair
I picked the wildflower for you
But you’re much too far away
Shall wilt before you see it
This one I picked today
Against the velvet petals
You won’t get to press your face
But together we will pick the one
That grows up in its place
I’ll save this in our special book
Pressed between the pages
And hide it in our secret place
We’ve known about for ages
The next time that you come again....
You’ll know right where to look!
Moon’s Pilgrimage … Across The Sky To Praise
The Maker and All His Wondrous Ways
Moon’s Pilgrimage … Rises High, In Grace
Yet, Still In A Humble – Pilgrim’s Place
Moon’s Pilgrimage … Will Not Betray
All The Moonlight, GOD Lets Display
Tho’ She Moves In His Cosmic-Stage-Play
From His Theme-Theatre, She Will Not Stray
My Pilgrimage … Thru Deep, Dark Space
With Silver-Wings and Beams, I Chase
The Unknown and Known Questions Raised
Will Be Answered, When The Maker Says …
My Pilgrimage … To Touch Heaven’s Face
That Beauteous, Elusive, Mysterious Trace
Borne At The Blessed-Beginning’s Base
My Pilgrimage … Takes Me There To Pray …
My Pilgrimage … Takes Me There To Pay –
My Vows, My Voice, In Vesper-Vase
As This Moon, Is In Harvest – Phase
And Beams Brighter Now … Tho’ Slanted-Gaze
… The Moon … Glowing Ochre-Gold Or Silver
The Moon … Is Making Pilgrimage, Remember
The Moon … Is Trying To Help Deliver
Lost-Souls, Who Can Not Find … Moon River …
… Moon’s Pilgrimage … Keeps Steady Pace
Even Climbing Thru Dense, Cloudy-Lace
Moon’s Pilgrimage … Is Like A Dance, That Sways
Moon’s Pilgrimage … Into The Night’s Embrace … …
Diamond studded armour
A lance of pale moon light
Mounted on black beauty
Is a night of winter white.
Moon shines its pale
Upon forest floor
Where winged creatures
legendary, pale and sleek
Spin and flit and dance
To the invisible orchestra;
Of Blue bells ringing
And dandelions singing in tune
With lilting fairy song as they sing
Melodies that echo through forest pines
To the Fairy Queen bathed in the light of
The August moon
© Brenda V Northeast 12th July 2008 Rewritten on 21st/ 01/2012 BVN
A gentle breeze
across the lake
through the pines
lingers in a breathless
of leaves that wind
into the air
upon the ground
scent of layered
of broken brush
of forest floor
a trail to
Where I stand
How I love
All of you
The myriads of poppy flowers,
Such amazingly have flourished
For one or two day of May
on green and fresh hills of Birke.
How I want to say
I never forget all of them
And keep in my soul
Your astonishing dancing
On the mornings wind.
Don’t worry, dear beauties,
I diligently pick up and save
Every one of you
In my great artificially created Universe,
Called the Sphere of Shwartwalde of my memory
Where every one of them,
Innumerous girls emerging for instance
And recorded in my soul
From my early spring on Birke,s hill
Till the last…
Will find plenty pastures and places,
For eternal unfaded blossoming
And I will dancing with you
And invite my dear one for such
Unlimited and endless
Walking on her oceans of white
Frozen tears from sky unite
Reflections of Autumn's death remiss
As beautiful nightmares become abyss
Dreams of feathers cease to sing
Of geese that vanished with Autumn's wings
Wilted smiles of little flowers
Bent in vases as fallen towers
The memories that fade throughout the age
Has frostbitten the skies of winter sage
With lifetime whispers that never part
That winter still lingers in my heart.
A song of a sparrow in the springtime.
Birds chirp a lullaby at the peak of the morning sun.
Speedy is the dragonfly, wish I could catch just one.
Clovers fill the meadow and daisies are in bloom.
Brilliant as the rainbow heanen's scent perfumes.
I hear a sparrow singing sweet tunes of joy and glee.
Sing a song sweet sparrow, sing a song for me.
As springtime goldenrods glow.
I see a sweet sparrow perched upon a rose.
Elegant are the carnations,
and honeybees buzz me by,
God's mighty creations of tender springtime.
I hear a sparrow singing a joyful melody.
Sing a song sweet sparrow, whistle in the breeze.
Lilacs spread their fragrance.
Daffodils line the creek.
In the wind the lilies dance,
and crickets chirp at my feet.
I hear a sparrow singing such a sweet tune.
Sing a song sweet sparrow, lift the morning dew.
Sing a song the prince of love and let the music flow.
Drowning in sweet melodies I open my window.
Perched upon the cedar tree a mighty little bird.
Singing tunes of springtime for all to be heard.
.Hidden from all the world. The damp wetness of the rocks, as the water gently washes over them. The sun can barley be seen in this spot, It only is able to cast rays and shadows over the quiet stream, causing light to peak through. Leaves slowly sway in the gentle breeze, one may fall and dance and twirl into the wetness of the stream. This world is unseen, it is nestled quietly in silence. Hidden in tranquility and calmness.
Dance leaves upon the gentle breeze, you are hidden now, from human eye,so quiet and so still. Unbothered, untouched by human hand and error. You know no wrong. Rest and sleep in your world that is full of love and harmony. Such peace that it can be smelled in the air. Gentle flower petal cradle yourself, as you fall and float down the stream. Your colors are still breath taking. Rest and sleep be still. A sparrow will soon visit, he offers you no harm nor trouble.
She is thirsty from her flight. The leaves and surrounding grain will sway peacefully in the air, they offer you music, along your travel. The music of nature. Sleep and rest unharmed, untouched. Untouched by human error or human hand. Only touched by the perfect one. The creator
Seems like dark
clouds are following us
Let the torrents
As water strikes
The earth and roots
Life springs forth
after shadows have
Our little star
on though the
There will be
of the wheel of
When we are cleansed by the
Then we can
Letting the breezes
We'll continue onwards
and ill fortune
but we shall grow
and prosper in spite
We'll lift up our
to embrace the world
Laugh once more
as spring rains
continue to fall
To The Sea
I look to you
To the questions that swirl like your currents in my mind
Are you as unfathomable as my heart?
Do your swells exceed the passions rising within me?
Does your churning and pounding match the rhythm of my pulse?
Is your water as cold as the loneliness here?
Does the salt you contain taste the same as my tears?
Does your thunderous crashing on rocks at the shore
Equal the tempest that rages in my soul?
Do you harbor secrets in your depths as I do?
Are you roiling below the surface with anticipation?
Do you long for a visitor to break the horizon...
As I long for my Love?
Does the wail that rises from your hollow reefs
Blend with the plaintive cry from my lips?
Can the overture played on your delicate shells
Drown out the sound of my siren song?
Sea, I have loved you, Sea, I have known you...
We feel the same, we sound the same
We give the same, we take the same
We are one
And the same
You and I,
Your mournful soulmate
© Copyright Donna Golden July 10, 1999
Go for a walk stop in the park
sit on a bench think for awhile
take your time look around
see all the things you've missed
Be very quiet and notice the sound
of a passing car or a distant train
children playing the bark of a dog
the birds singing in harmony
Take a look at a flower
see the color and shape
say a prayer thank the Lord
for the things you see and hear
Listen to the music
It's here now under a converted sky
Where daylight has loss it’s might
Hours before the green hills had sight, with
splattered hints of yellow wild flowers so bright
Now time has casts a different light
It here now where the heavens sings an evening song
With twinkled lights on a moon lit prong
Dancing stars and dreaming of mars
Its here on this transformed spot
I will sit and jot
It is here now as I lay back on this cool grass, and write a story
with the heavens the color of quarry
Of jeweled eyes in the skies
that connected to stories, some disguised
With silver spoons and astrological loons
On dream away, dream on by
to the earths motions and lullabies
It is here now time to take a brake
from life’s work ,and worries and heart ache
Try it yourself remember when, you were a child
when you looked up the night and smiled amen
When you have downfall on your mind chaos is all a mind can find, its time to change all the things you had held so deep inside, they cause rage, your trapped in while your caught up in the cage of life an easy life with out strife, no more pain or struggle inside a bubble and you want to make it burst, but first things first you know the times that come will be the worst, because its change you want, and you will taunt the ones who set the curse. They say if you want to change a little then its your choice, but if you want to change a lot they must first hear your voice, loud enough for all to hear, listen and all of the problems soon disappear, just know that the world can be a bleak one and people dont always listen so you cannot only speak once, so when the end is near you can look back at the goodtimes throughout all the years think about all the times and cheer, and thank god you lived this long and your still here. Be remembered only for the words you spoke, for you do not want to be invisioned inside a cloud of smoke, watch as they listen when you start to feel the choke on the thoughts about your life,a bad life, a black life, envoloped in fear you were hoping that the man would hear, and maybe take a listen, to diamonds in your mind as you watch them glisten. finally move to a position, and open your ears and let your mind be clear, and hear the wisdom spoken from the person on the otherside of the mirror, society sobriety with out a clue just sit and ponder at the deepest thoughts that are revealed in you...
I imagine the echo of the once thundering herds,
Before the Bison succumbed to the tallow vats.
I listen for symphonies of the missing songbirds,
That made the Osage foothills their habitat.
The land that was theirs is no longer pristine,
Now the hills are interspersed with pump-jacks.
Barbed wire fences make today's boundaries clean,
And pickup trucks are the source of most tracks.
In scrutinizing my thoughts I invariably ask why?
While realizing that time man can't rearrange.
Then God paints a sunset on the evening sky,
An awesome portrait that man can't change.
Beyond each of our hills He leaves a valley,
beyond each arid stretch He'll place a stream.
Beyond each troubled time we may be facing,
God gives us hope and allows us to dream.
Beyond each sunlit day He made a sunset,
Beyond each moonlit night He fixed a dawn.
Beyond each daily problem we may encounter,
God is always there gently urging us on.
Beyond each planting time comes a harvest,
Beyond each harvest a separation there'll be.
Beyond each separation, an eternity to spend,
God is asking, won't you spend it with me.
While I’d a daytime dream, justly dream
by mingles shadow the tree
as teeming fallow large branches
composed whole form mingles means
over hours I slept so fresh
And coolness was an inn wish dream.
up woken by, still daytime sun
mirthful by space, none fallow break
And birds were singing as lonely sings.
then mingled trees leaps I heard
resound at emotion, by the windy mean
Mingy so inlets’ minutes away run
groovy fared reminds it, from nature
moments honey over moment honeybells
dimension flows’ liking thou bully
Across the field, commix drama’s land
by, fruits from the mingled tree
Yet for being mature heal meaning.
~ Ciro C Toledo ~