When fields gleam aureate and song birds sing
and transient stars in clusters scintillate,
when sweet perennials are coaxed by spring
to blossom forth, he comes with sprightly gait.
He wends his way along the mountain trails
past opalescent rush of streams and rills,
goat-footed, on the paths that ribbon dales
and wind around and up and down small hills.
Then nymphs appear as, through the woods, he trips
to flower-smitten meadows. Fancy-free,
he leads them with his reed held to his lips,
till blithely they embrace his rhapsody.
So hear the music; watch the wood nymphs spin. . .
Then captured by sheer merriment, join in!
For Nathan A.'s ANY POEM GOES Poetry Contest
Refrain of dreams, I gift to you.
My hum lulls in rhythms deep;
Night chant lifts to heavenly heights
coupled with starry sky’s plume.
My faithful promise kept from sight
'til fall of moon's sleepy eyes.
By Rhonda Johnson-Saunders, 1/15/15
for Nette's Night Creatures Contest,
Listening peacefully to Bach I soar,
Above the clouds as a hawk I soar.
Lying on forests mossy floor,
Listening to natures talk I soar.
Watching geese fly south, encore,
Majestically beautiful flock I soar.
Knowing life has so much in store,
Answering its every knock I soar.
At times life is like a lions roar,
Standing as a solid rock I soar.
I shall hear natures call, and open its door,
Making sure that with every breath I soar.
Written by Brenda Meier-Hans
In waters’ calm leisure, mellow tides drift
Along back strides that always find their sway,
The lighter blues, the deeper jades, that sift
Glimmers of mollusks that twinkle and play.
From the swoon of bay when dusk slowly cranes
Pewter the wavelets, darker steel the shore;
Above, one bold and yellow stripe explores
To jiggle in a curdled breeze and spills
A frothy crest with waltzes soon to fade
Before moon comes in her gathering wade.
Notes I hold, on the ocean waves’ last set
A gurgling never the same every time
That I might grow thirsty and soon forget
Salty ripples forming different chirps
Never out of waves' hums in dancing flips.
Sheri Fresonke Harper's Out Of Water Contest
Flowers of the Curious Mind
Sent were flowers of the curious mind
following echoes of Cantu's muse
No curses , words grossly unkind
insults hidden deeply in clever ruse
Dare not stab sweet music of mortal man
with deeds sordidly played tho' sweet
Transgress not Nature's surviving plan
with arrogant contempt born of defeat
Embrace life's melody as a lost friend
dancing within it's tune so fine
Live, live gloriously until life's end
drink, drink richly of it's finest wine!
blackbirds in the rain
walking among the fallen leaves
under the old mango tree
with dripping leaves
bathing the grass below
blackbirds diligently lifting
the rain soaked fallen leaves
peering underneath for insects
by the drizzling rain
pausing to gulp one down
then scooting off again
searching for more
sitting under the shed
with raindrops playing their music
on the galvanised sheet roof
with a beat
within my inner being
putting me in a trance
connecting me to the rain
and the puddles on the ground
with the raindrops
gently tapping the water's surface
creating rings that collide
with one another
disrupting their individual shapes
creating a dynamic new pattern
reflecting their unity
and bubbling with energy
in the drizzling rain
O what a deep feeling
of peacefulness and serenity
with the rain
the dripping leaves
and the puddles
serenading my spirit
with the eternal song of Nature
and merging it into the
Unity Of All Things
It was raining today. There was a constant drizzle for hours. I sat in a shed attached to the house, watching the blackbirds in action in the rain, searching for their food. The constant rhythmic sound of the rain on the galvanised sheet roof of the shed and the gentle drama playing out in the backyard with the blackbirds was a spiritual experience for me connecting me with Nature and the unity of all things as mentioned in the last verse.
In a vast open wilderness
Lay the pristine snow
A beautiful mountain
The majestic view
A sky cloudless blue
No footsteps in the white
Only pristine snow
And there, a grand piano
In that space of no footsteps
And just for me
A man is playing Beethoven
November 25, 2012
Summer is on the turn, into Autumn we now head
So close this day approaches, inside many heads now dread
We now view through our eyes, our windows of life
What do we see now, do we absorb our awaiting strife
Be like me and others and listen to peripheral sounds
It's what we have come to know, it's us all around
Day by day we view, the turning of life's greenery
But what are we going to see after, on this future days scenery
Is it intrepid anticipation, human wondering entering it's abyss
We're the blind leading our blind, just what do we make of this
The eve of this reckoning day, in hourly wait we await
Autumn has taken it's turn, are us humans in use by date
This morning we have awaited, curtains drawn I view
There's something different about the sunrise, sees me a through
From my balcony I witness, now seeing from where I am
Shape shifting no longer applies, I just don't understand
In sorrow fill hungered loss, I lose life's lust for thrall
From my balcony I now witness, I view when shadows fall
Inspired by "Touchstone's" <> "When Shadows Fall" from their album "The City Sleeps"
The Memories of a Dancing Peacock
( Based on a true incident captured in my Camera )
I was in a mood to sing, and
The Peacock was in a mood to dance,
My singing came, while watching the beauty and
The beauty started unfolding its wings and charms,
As if the Peacock was listening the songs,
I was singing, silently in my mind.
Oh, what a joy it was to feel and share,
Those wonderful moments
I spent with that beautiful bird,
Who kept dancing and dancing,
Till the song continued in my mind silently.
You and I may not be dancing or living forever, O, bird,
But the image, which you have engraved on my mind and
The rhythms of that joy and pleasure,
Which you have left,
Would continue to generate always,
The music of silence and beauty in every mind.
Kanpur India 28th December 2011
NOTE:IMP. NOTE: The Memories of a Dancing Peacock
The Photo Poem cum Song is also on my Music Channel
"RavindraKK1" on U Tube. or you simply use this URL
For my Videos Songs on My U Tube just write on Google "RavindraKK1
and go on U Tube Channel - RavindraKK1
envision harmony and mental clarity
focus on a journey of possibility
Meditate on transformation and
awareness of inner state
peace and healing
instruct your mind
to redirect the lost and struggling inner voice
Where you can’t see the wood for the trees
under your nose is the path of freedom
Put aside perceived struggles
revitalize, relax, respond
to body, mind, heart and spirit
Intuition, introspection and spiritual renewal
bring about personal healing and
Stillness of mind – concentration
Thoughts of the subconcious and subliminal
beyond all negativity
away from all interuption
To allow time for self communication and
expression of inner self
Senses – awareness of scent, sight, sound, taste and touch
Healing hands of the medical profession or alternative therapy
ambiance, temperature, oils, music, sounds and
sights of nature or universe
realisation comes in various form and shape
causing us to feel life in fullest expression
Connecting – whispers of wind
radiating everpresent warmth of sun
a blanket of love and light comforts consoles over and through the cosmos
rippling infinately through infinity outwards, onwards
connecting right back into where we are at right now
unmoved unchanged and as we were
Wise – responsible courageous allowed to let go of need to be judgemental or
let go of controlling enable trust wisdom and humility
intelligence of knowing others
wisdom of knowing self
strength in mastering others
power to master oneself
Energy -breath, force, spirit, soul, God, universe –
whatever – doesn’t matter how you refer to it on personal level
energy, balance, light, sound, vibration, peace
centered self – stillness – silent – eternal –
to have enough is a richness in itself
accept appreciate and acknowledge oneself
Enter a storybook tale
Where I can be
The heroine you hail
Lucid dreams of soft reflection
A touch heated with lust and desired protection
A breathe a gasp as we succeed
Join the fairytale with me
Valiant night within dark eyes
the right movement and I make them shine
like moonlight on the steamy hot spring
care to follow for a little dip with me
Trailing like the water at my fingertips
Grasp me around my hips
As close as the breeze on my skin
Whisper lies as I let you in
Lips mumbling up my thighs
bare heart exposed to the sky
fire burning in my veins
Am I a mistress of this lust or simply a slave
Trembling with desire
Take me till we've lost count of the hours
enter this storybook tale
Where I can be the heroine you hail
I close my eyes
locked in a millisecond
the moment before the bow
touches the strings
where silence has a tremor
and wraps me in darkness
until I hear its particles
vibrating against me
the bow wrenches
from the depth of the bass
a groan from the earth
as if waking a millennia of slumber
the first note
long, rich and haunting
now coming to life
now ready to speak
legs crossed and hands limp
to the sources of discomfort
tension in the neck, anxiety in the chest
fatigue in the limbs
heaviness in the core
let this weight sink
pull down through me
melt through me
let it drag and seep
through my bones
until it submerges
into the ground below
transform to roots
grow deep into the soil
until the energy is revitalized
until I am reminded
we grow from this intricate system
no different from the forest and gardens
spreading, connecting, entwining
the earth is booming
the bass its voice
chanting, singing, commanding
a mantra in a language I don't understand
but with a pulse
I can feel
and it is telling me
I have all I need
visualize one by one
sources of emotional exhaustion
with each dredge up the full power
of all feelings
feelings long suppressed, feelings of fear
allow body and mind to swim
one last time
before I breathe in and blow them away
my body is lighter, sitting straighter
a tall blade of grass
swaying as one
looking across the field
up to the cliff's edge
and over the sunlit ocean
taste sweet scent
stretch to feel
to unending sky
on what it means to be alive.
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
Love they say is a many splendid thing-
Love wove for me
Such a fine necklace
All gleaming with tiny droplet pearls
That hung from a sheer gossamer thread
Dazzling in clear beauty
Glistening in the morning gold of the frosty morn
Love sings for me the finest song
From the golden throat of a nightingale
Like the sounds of many violins
Stringing a tune of lonely times and long lonely nights
when he waited and listened to the wind for my whispers
Of loving response
Love shines and twinkles in the midnight hour when
Declaring on heavens evening robes where
Jewels dance across life’s moving screen
Love declares His undying passion
Then dawn rose from a heart on fire
It lit the garden with morning sun
Radiant-wearing the finest perfume
And colors of the rainbow bowed
In memory of our first lost embrace
The King waits anxiously-
For my smile and my heart.
© Brenda V Northeast 28th July 2012
The clouds are floating softly just below the mountain's peak.
The river plays it's symphony, sweet music to my ear.
The lyrics dance in rhythm as the Lord begins to speak.
I thank him for this morning and the melodies I hear.
My cool unseen choreographer
I bow and sway to your directions.
O sonorous wind friend of willows
In your moments of frenzy and calm
I like a tree move to your whim -
Plucked like strings under a maestro’s finger
I quiver, become taut again, waiting
To hear you whisper 'dance with me again'.
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.
A prickle about to lodge
In the heart of a Mighty Light
Above the low-dipped setting sun
The Knightly Night prepares to come
To lift me like a rising fog
Up to greet the countless stars -
That twinkle at a Sun's descent.
The horizon painted with lullaby
Of colours and their somber tune
Day's bed is laid behind blue mountains
And quietly it goes to sleep.
Inside the womb of a Sleeping Day
Begins a fierce protest
of dreaming thoughts
Now stirred awake.
Then out of the thick and cluster
And whatever dangers of flight await
Newborn wings of thought emerge
And rise and rise and rise
Captured by the winds of Night -
To wander heights
To kiss the skies
To dance to the gentle humming
Of spirit drums -
A duet with the breeze.
So when day comes breaking through
Dawn is greeted by what was writ
At the festival of it's eve.
With merriment's ink:
A song etched deep:
Art carved out of sky.
Title: Night Poem
The waves lick the pier-deck beams,
a boat has passed upon the lake
to shuffle the song upon the wind,
The smoky waters still to tease
slow with ancient whispers,
The Loon leads upon the woody melody,
some sylvan songster
too beautiful to languish,
Not floating upon the dawn
through misted peace;
all ears have heard
the first kiss of throngs,
Gentle as waves upon the tide,
from the very earth it seems....
the sweet haunting cry
echoes souls through silts
The very marrow of stone,
and pine and leaf,
A morning hushed but for its
pretty plea, a male perhaps
(so tender with feminine appeal)
They all call so, pillowed
their first-light throngs,
Angels upon the deep billowed morn,
Where the very clouds above
have seemed to hover
above the lake along,
Their soothing cry
fills the waking wood....
hushed waters, still as stars
feeds the twilight with song
(pining through hovering hats of mist)
Before spring came, in late February
to the blooming and jolly hills
I ran, breathing heavily and frantically,
touching the perfumed blossoms
of a solitary, old cherry tree;
and underneath it I sat writing poetry
that hadn't a perfect rhyme and beat!
Weren't my skills marred by imperfections?
Canaries and red-breasted robins
flew down and rested on my outstretched legs;
perusing my lines to spot their names,
and when they did, they flapped their wings in gladness!
I could have imagined their joyful words,.
if only they had acquired the gift of speech,
and deeper in their thoughts I would have reached:
to dispel the myth that they had no feelings...
After my short poem was completed,
I reached for my harmonica to play my favorite classic tune;
and being surprised by the paleness of the fading moon,
I dedicated that happy melody to her not to let her despair:
by waving my hand to make her farewell less sad, while I whispered,
" Silent moon, eternal companion of every poet,
what's beyond the realm of this universe?...
Tell us more of those invisible suns and planets! "
Before spring came to the dormant valley,
the mountains' peaks allowed the sun to melt their snows,
to create gushing torrents to feed its water to the dry and cracked soil,
which needed rain instead of harmful frost;
and I drank the freshest water and washed my sweaty face,
while fighting off the bees' stubborn rivalry!
That spring has come again to dress herself with incredible splendor,
and this discontent and wishful heart desires nothing more than being there!
My theme is: Happiness In Childhood
felt and revered,
stirring an awesome emotion,
which stillness repeals
whenever brightness shines;
and the primroses' scent spreads the delight
of the mild season.
What do the stars
tell a lover's heart...palpitating
in tranquility, amid shadows
that advance with the pretty fireflies?
Dream, and reprieve from the loss...
hoping that love doesn't lay at rest,
but chooses to celebrate
'till after the evening, and tell romantic tales.
The invisible crickets chirp,
somewhat awkward to the ears,
I'd rather hear the coos of the owls,
which are richer and more harmonious in sound,
but where are they in this darkness, unless
they are mating in the willows of the lake?
Our blanket is spread on the wide Sheep Meadow,
with a superb view of those Manhattan's skycrapers,
towering over us as sentinels in castle's towers.
Juliet wanted to taste this freedom,
embracing and kissing her handsome Romeo,
not fearing anyone intruding in her paradise,
unwilling to leave anytime soon;
and unruffled, she would continue to love him.
What do the stars tell a lover's heart?
Accept the lovely rose that he offers you, and adore it,
because it has no thorns, to make you bleed in despair;
Sing with him a beautiful sonnet that Shakespeare wrote
for his lover who crossed the Atlantic ocean,
when ships took months to reach America's shore.
The walkers ... aimless and ambling,
stagger, strut and stumble toward
their solitary scenarios.
An occasional erect form jogs
the stomping sound of feet submerged
in the staccato hum > the rapid fire buzz
the blaring horns of traffic.
The colors of life appear random ...
as flashing retinal after images
on closed lids, constantly
refreshed by rubbing.
A geometry of pretense
is etched into the forebrain of the fragile,
for all walk ... the sane, the insane
the righteous, and the negligent
the skeletal structure
correlating and communicating
the random pattern of life
to the Universal eye
from this earthen plane.
I do not know?
White blossoms of the Mountain Laurel
Contrasted to the waxy green leaves
Nestled under trees along the creek
Showing some of the beauty of spring
Snuggled on a blanket close to the edge
Enjoying the music that nature makes
Chirping of birds, no no not a word said
Rustle of leaves, buzz, buzzing of bees
Babbble of creek, splash of the deer's feet
Joy, oh, joy for the outdoor cheer
Wishing that we could share this time
This time of the year
One fine day as I was traversing the green,
in the last throes of Autumns' twilight.
I sat upon a flat stone,
overlooking a trilling brook,
to ponder the meaning of life.
As I sat ,and thought,
the soft chimes of music,
from the water spirits,
lulled me into a dream state.
Some where in that liquid crystal,
stubborn stones are worn smooth,
by the passage of time.
Elsewhere the fluidous mercury,
rushes toward a cleft ,
a water fall.
Bringing forth melodies,
never to be reproduced ,
by mere human hands.
As my lids grow heavy,
I'm awakened by the flash of silver,
silhouetted by the last rays of the setting sun..
With regret its time to leave,
as I turn to go ,
a misty rainbow is captured ,
by the fading beams of light.
I smile, at peace,
the promise ,
the sun will once again ,
eclipse the horizon.
Spectrum speculations on particular waves
Prismatic refractions of straight beams of light
Showing rainbows of color division
Like octaves of notes on a musical scale
Mixing on palette of chordyllic vision
To play us a picture of moody rendition
On a canvas of mirrors and smoke
Do all these colors match speed in their flight?
Or is it a mad cosmic joke?
Red particles hanging their ten with delight
Surfing a light wave of blue
With purple and green flitting madly alight
At this speed they’re smokingly true
What’s faster the red or the blue?
I need someplace better to go.
Like a poverty-stricken township.
In a city made of gold.
Where people trust and love each other.
Where I would loose control.
And scream my happy heart out.
Like fallen warriors of old.
And I'm making my way to this place.
I'll bide my time and set my pace.
To loose this spoiled human race.
And let my free heart roam.
And I've seen someplace better to hold.
Like an Amazon rain forest.
In a land that unfolds.
And shows its povertized people.
With hearts made of gold.
Like people of few having a lot and most nothing.
Not people like you smoking rock and still huffing.
If it only meant something.
I'm making my way to this place.
To find a sign and then embrace.
All the people there.
Who call this space their own.
So music makes your soul rollover.
And it's something you can share.
With a world that ran out of luck.
Or that girl that doesn't care.
Like a feeling locked inside a page.
Of love, or life, or even rage.
This music is despair.
And I'm making my way to this place.
Of waterfalls and open space.
And leaving here without a trace.
To help these people home.
And Now I'll cry and release my soul.
Over a glass of wine.
For this music man who's simply slowly dyin’.
And this man of rhytmatic drums.
Lay in bed and slowly hums.
A song of simple glowing suns.
That draws him into them.
I'm making my way to this place.
Entering my saving grace.
A simple sacred holy place.
And die inside my home.
Come and hear the song,
The song of the angels,
As the heavens open.
The split of the sky;
The cascading colors.
As the gates close,
Darkness falls over.
The darkness twinkles,
Twinkles with beautiful lights,
Now come hear the song,
The song of the night.
It sings out in a Capella voice.
Sway to the rhythm,
As you succumb to darkness.
The song plays on and on,
Until the morning fires blaze.
Night is not like day,
when my body is groggy and I get tired,
but sleep doesn't come suddenly...
Even when the macabre darkness reigns,
I seek the hidden moon among the hickories,
to make me stray from loneliness...
And strolling with the pace of vagabonds,
I get to feel what they feel: when they are
ignored or forgotten by others...
Crickets seem out of tune,
while the watchful owls conjure;
and what attracts me: is mystery...
The bag-lady sleeps on the same bench,
and her softest pillow is a heap of leaves;
this morning she performed a superb dance...
The bright lam-posts begin to dim, to scare the fire-flies away;
and flickering they announce the new day,
when the strong aroma of the jasmines exhilarates me...
Night is not like day,
when the perfect peace is really felt inside;
even my gentle shadow turns into a silver light...
Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci
Tenor winds of Spring,
A swift orchestrated gust;
Ensemble of air.
Ensemble of air,
With Summer’s baritone draft;
Layered season breeze.
Layered season breeze,
Falsetto of the Fall’s fugue;
In the this quartet.
In the this quartet,
Soprano hums, Winter‘s end;
Quartet of the winds.
it's winter song..
snow falling, twirling
a lonely sparrow cries
frozen vines turn to windchimes
scribbled trees in vision withdraw
ghosts are singing in the blizzard's roar
an ice river hushes in frozen awe.