That thing that we call poetry -
when asked where it began,
I’d say it started beautifully
before the dawn of man!
It glistened on the oceans
before man came to be.
It blossomed on the grassy cliffs
that met the first great sea.
It glittered in the moon and stars
and beamed on earth below
in meadows where bright flowers danced
and on the pristine snow.
It sparkled on the lakes and streams,
and when man came along,
he took sweet words that flowed to him
and turned them into song.
This was how it always was
before we knew of time.
The poet who begot us all
made it to be sublime.
Poetry has now evolved,
and as with many things,
there are many kinds. . . but I
still like it when it sings!
Inspired by the contest of Justin Bordner
and some of the beautiful poems I've been seeing in this contest
Now for PD's Best Poem of 2014 - Poetry Contest
The gentle music flows
from every drop of rain,
as it just lightly taps
against my window pane.
The wind begins to whistle
it's own melodious song,
while the wind-chimes
dance and play along.
The soothing sounds cast open
the windows and doors.
I close my eyes and breathe.
The energy surrounds me as my spirit soars.
I hold out my hand and feel the raindrops
as if they were at play.
My breath now quickened with emotion.
I taste the rain on my lips as I embrace the glorious day.
The curtains blow inward
the breeze itself is warm,
my mind is so peaceful
in the calm before the storm.
The sky's voice trembles
from above a darkening cloud,
as the rolling thunder
speaks it's thoughts aloud.
The thunder awakens
the flash of light.
The part of nature
that sends some to flight.
I chose to embrace the power of nature
in the earth and sky.
And bask in the wonder
that fills my eyes.
The rain seems to be letting up
as it puddles on the green grass,
and the once powerful winds
are now calming down at last.
The gray clouds are parting
and a bright rainbow forms,
proving that something beautiful
can come from such dangerous storms.
My eyes close and I breathe
in the scent of the cleansing rain.
The brilliant hues of the rainbow
dance in my mind where I feel no pain.
The sun peaks from behind the clouds
just to say hi.
I feel the warmth against my face
as I view the beauty with a sigh.
Written by: Kelly Deschler & Nature Boy
For Jared Pickett's contest - "Collaboration"
The ranch on which I hang my hat, though short on most the frills,
Is thirteen sections, give or take, of rugged trails an’ hills.
We call it ‘home’, our little world, our very own frontier,
Amongst the cattle, sheep an' goats; the varmints, hogs an' deer.
Today I watched the breakin' dawn an' whiffed the mornin' air,
A time I often set aside for things like thought an' prayer.
A Mockin'bird an' Mornin' Dove, an' other birds at play,
Were there to sing an' set the mood to start another day.
This mornin' saw the strangest thing, like time itself had merged,
An' all the souls who once were here, appeared an' then converged.
In swirlin' clouds of mist an' fog, right off the bluffs they rolled,
Till all had gathered in the glen, the modern an' the old.
The Indians, conquistadors, an' other ancient men,
The soldiers from this country's wars, an' cowboys from back when…
They all had come from yesterday to help me understand
Our link with those who came before, to heritage an' land.
A crazy notion, so I thought, that they could just appear,
But as the morning went along the reason got real clear.
They rode along with me that day to show me things I’ve missed,
The things I’ve seen a thousand times an’ some I’d just dismissed.
Those wagon roads of long ago, still evident today,
Are carved in rock an' rutted earth, not apt to wash away.
They linked the missions, forts an' towns those many years gone by;
An' left their mark for all to see, as modern times grew nigh.
The artifacts an' weathered ruins attest to yesterdays,
When others came an' lived their lives in very different ways.
We've seen their skill in arrowheads they honed from fired stone,
An' craftsmanship in beads an' tools they fashioned out of bone.
At ever turn and trail we took was something to remind,
The Maker must have had a plan laid out for humankind.
The Earth He made’s been feedin' us a half-a-million years,
An' used it's wonder, force an' change to challenge pioneers.
I do not know if they'll return or if they’ll feel the need,
But I’m prepared to ride the trail, where ever it may lead.
We all are spirits ridin’ time with bodies of the Earth,
Whose time has come to take the reins an’ offer up our worth.
The land has been the legacy we cultivate an’ reap,
The life has been the heritage our father’s fought to keep,
An’ we are bound throughout our time with those who came before,
To put our hearts and souls to it, and make it something more.
You have caged me for too long
I want you to just let me go,
I have to spread these feathered wings
I need to feel the wind's blow.
You know that I love you truly
I said that I would never leave,
I want to see the rain's dance
Not just sit here and perceive.
The scene never changes, day after day
I want to go where white roses bloom,
I have never seen an ocean's wave
And neither have you, I assume.
I need to see the autumn tree's change
I want to see the snowflake's glisten,
I am wishing on the stars as they fall
This is my dream, so please just listen.
I want to fly in the sky's blue
I need to feel the sun's burn,
When I have experienced these wonders
I promise that I will return.
Was it all a sweet dream or just reality?,
I sit and ponder that very thought,
During the daylight and in the nighttime,
Wondering, were we ever there or not?
A crescent moon smiled down on me,
Shedding it's white light upon the ground,
I sat amongst the petals, waiting patiently,
And it was there, that me, you found.
Lavender flower petals I did pluck,
As I was seated atop the green hillside,
Does he love me, or does he not?,
My love for you, I could not hide.
I only saw you as a dark silhouette,
A shadow that walked upon the ground,
Among silver stars and a midnight sky,
Your gentle voice was the only sound.
My darkened silhouette was no longer alone,
While yellow fireflies around me dance,
When you came to join me atop that hill,
In the meadow's softly illuminated romance.
I was embraced within your arms,
As your most tender kiss met mine,
On that one warm summer's night,
When our kindred spirits did entwine.
So sad was I when the time came to part,
As the rising sun shined golden upon my hair,
Although, what a beautiful dream it was,
When I awoke and found you there.
Waking Dreams Contest
April, 4th, 2014
Emerald etchings are given birth
to bask their lives in summer's sun,
until brushing brutal winters cheek,
They cower yellow; brown undone.
Swirling down onto concrete pyres,
They somersault to a random grave.
The earth lays claim to copper corpses
But the winter wind is a cunning knave.
It finds and flips the fallen fibers,
then flings them crisply to the street.
The failing sheaves of burnt magenta,
tossed like chaff from harvest wheat.
Now strewn about with playful malice,
and denied the resting place they crave,
for the golden sun is a glint of amber,
but the winter wind is a chilling knave.
Rough winds blowing
Washing wild waves ashore
Scattering about seashells
It always makes me want more
The smell of the summer night air
Takes me back to times we shared
You and I dancing beneath the moon
Crickets playing a lovers tune
Trees full with lush green leaves
Whispering poetry to you and me
A view from beneath a Missouri bluff
Talking of passion, love, and lust
Your hand in mine strolling the path
Sitting on the deck and looking back
Picnic tables and barbecue grills
Driving and parking, is this for real?
My memory’s filled with your sweet love
Do you remember that snow white dove?
A kiss goodnight under a star filled sky
Best friends forever, a promise, no lie
It excites me to think that every year
Whether life or memory I return here
We will create magic again I know
On a summer night in the moon’s soft glow
Copyright © 2009 Lena “Lolita” Townsend
*inspired by John Heck’s “Summer Celebration” contest
we our souls will spend our time repenting
but the body of truth always comes to light
in drawing an end to come with true believers
so they can see the many faces of the devil
greed in this world money takes over always
as they worship first with the devil’s tools
invading our space all for the sake of black
liquid gold tainted hearts in its color so pure
shame on this world absolutely for mankind
has not learned at all given profound problems
aplenty and stands the testimony of our times
while war does not resolve anything—death’s end
only when family lives are directly affected
they have the fighting right to protect and live
wherever they choose but we are all controlled
and always told what to do openly or furtively
in a system rolling unto the end of mankind
shut eyes in the face of truth and honesty
the whole setup is a joke makes one laugh
countries run amok and history repeats itself
doing the devil’s work at command or by one’s will
while throwing our money around with profligate zeal
like they are usually royalty by some birthright and
this says so much for the world we live in today
looking at their greed it’s oh so clear for all to see that
with food dished out on silver cutlery and others starving
our priorities have run afoul of charity and common sense
running everything into the ground to support their lies
present catching the past and past is the future’s prologue
Earth soon develops a chasmic breach at depths reaching a
heart's song unheard powers unchanging with a most awful
and pronounced Quest of more which destroys the very Soul
in a such a pitiful world so desolate and blind
are pure souls who wish with love to shine bright
one chance will come with a golden sun shining
but will human kind seize the golden glory at hand
two paths lie in tomorrow’s dawning shadow dark—
the path to the end or to the new beginning for mankind
we live ever together striving for a peaceful endeavor
we live at war forever on the very fringes of Hell itself
the way to Armageddon lies open and wants to greet us
the way to the golden life of peaceful bliss is still possible
but at tomorrow's dawn do we change our path or will we
sing the song of stupidity and be dark from tomorrow on
We must have peace . . . In Our Time or Perish Forever!
Gary Bateman, Liam McDaid, and Michael Clarke –
A Collaborated Poem, Copyright © All Rights Reserved
(December 4, 2014) (Quatrain unrhymed poetic form)
Splendor of Autumn in its glorious bloom
Bestowing us with nature's gifts precious
Fragrant orchards with their ripened looms
Tempting aroma of the fruits luscious.
To the Autumn born, the season appeals
As I inhale lungfuls of the festive air
Drum beats reverberate, child's gleeful squeals
We celebrate Autumn with unique flair!
Auburn hues of the flora flourishing
Trekking dry hilly trails with impish pride
Vibrant beauty of fauna simply ravishing
Toddler enjoying his piggy back ride!
Armed with dry sticks tiny hands fiddle
To catch the colorful flipping butterflies
Beneath pattering feet crispy leaves crinkle
The sail-boat clouds drifting through blue-glass skies.
On a pond blossoming with lilies and lotuses
They empty their left-over dewy wet delights
Nature basks in sunlight's golden caresses
The whole cosmos soaks in wonderful sounds and sights!
Whisper Of Your Soul
(Soul Listens On A Whisper)
Murmurs soft are sensed, mimic nature, diaphanous clouds spread wide
Settle softer than a translucent butterfly on spring light snow
It is the moon flirting in ebullience, fog rising on a thin film on winds side
Lifting skirts or is it veils? Unknown in this muted light of whispers glow
Mist rolls across the bog, pulls along reluctant virgin night
By golden glow, that holds the sky in humble hush, abeyance in a trance
Tracking down the birth of morning, bursting full of light
Barely able to mutter the words, “the light of day”, the endless dance
You feel the vibrant tones, fold over meadows as you go
A vestigial tiny vessel of a virgin’s secret opens here
Chasing dark away along the marsh with pounding heart to know
The open glen is near, fills up in brilliant colors clear
Soft luscious sounds fall silent on the morning air and then
Listen, it whispers on the minutia of the moment something true
Holds on to quiet in the silent glen
Waiting on a whisper Imbued with truth, soft thoughts of you
Created on 12/16/14 for “Whisper Of Your Soul” Poetry Contest Sponsored by Gail Angel Doyle
I leave my mountain home with Winter’s thaw
as childlike, I babble. I'm a stream,
but cutting through the valleys, I grow wide
and draw more power as I gather steam.
I meet my sister tributaries, and
grow deeper, now a river, and I roll!
At time, when Rain pours down, I overflow,
but on I run, course set, with fervent soul!
I'm surging onward to my destiny!
What more for me to crave as I run south
(toward Delta's bosom and my love, the Sea)
than his consuming kiss upon my mouth?
For Barbara Gorelick's "A River Runs Through It"
As I walk through the forest
I hear the silence of the wood
Nature is at contest
Where beasts once stood
The wind rustling the trees
Shaking to the ground
Earth creeping with weeds
Smell nature all around
Creatures climbing high
Beasts burrowing deep
No birds in the sky
Cause nature to weep
As the one on two arrives
And takes nature in threes
Those on four will not survive
Save the five he never sees
This new beast that comes
And ploughs the land
Nature come undone
By this one hand
All the animals they scatter
To lands far and wide
As nature begins to shatter
Turn, to run and hide
Blood spills over the earth
From this hand that strikes
Against nature's last birth
The cry that fills the nights
As the earth turns to mud
I hear the silence of death
With a resounding thud
Nature takes it's last breath
As man turns and walks away
His unholy quest now done
Head hung low in dismay
For now in nature there is none
Falling to his knees
Precious air has gone
Along with the trees
Natures vengeance is long
Too late does man learn
That nature holds all
These things that he yearns
And by ignorance he'd fall
His body by earth reclaimed
To bring about new life
Man's name once shamed
Nature, reborn without strife
No ripple of breeze could be half as gentle
than those tiny feet, as they lightly tread
through the open meadow of poppies blooming
while morning sunlight lay gold on her head
grey edges of darkness
mourning doves plea
who brings us sorrow?
who sets us free?
bursting from cover
frightening those close
fleeing 'till twilight
brings them to roost
again doves cry out
who wants the answers?
who has the will?
Nature has its beauty,
Gliding through the sky.
Going from flower to flower,
Yet slowly passing by.
I see her wings of canvas,
With the shapes and lines.
Of broad and thin strokes,
Made by hands divine.
As she begins to flutter,
Her little heart still sings.
I’m attracted by the color,
Amongst her painted wings.
Tiny little weasel,
Sneaking `round the house,
Searching for a midnight snack,
A chick, a kit or mouse.
Crafty little rascal,
Scurries here and there,
Must find enough to feed the brood,
A bird, a pup or hare.
Nocturnal little scavenger,
Relentless once he spots his prey,
A formidable impugnist.
Cute little weasel,
Can be really sweet,
Cut the little guy some slack,
We all have got to eat.
(Just make sure your pets and live stock are protected.)
The dragonflies danced in the crisp Maine air
on a draft from the ocean deep.
Their delicate wings teased the breeze
high up on Mount Battie’s Peak.
Blue-black they flew like the night time sky,
as the mica flecked granite shone,
Seeking nectar sweet from blueberries bushes
and their small white flowers’ cones.
The silvered sea was surreally framed by
a multitude of human eyes;
Dotted with miniature sailing boats
A scene full of wonder and sighs.
The crocus first peers from beneath cold earth
Finding warm air and sunshine o’er the snow
Magnificent colors paint hearts with mirth
As in full swing lovers’ great passions grow
Most women associate love with spring
Though young men’s thoughts turn to baseball diamonds
While children fly kites that take gentle wing
As snowbirds return from tropic islands
How blessed we are to breathe that fresh air
One more spring in the calendar of life
When lilacs fill gardens with lavender flare
Vows uttered as man makes woman his wife
Their first child’s birth arrives the next April
Just months after grandma’s been laid to rest
Seasons like ages approach ever graceful
As robins watch offspring fly from the nest
For PD's "Spring" contest
Early in the morning
Just before the dawn
A small and simple drop
Appears upon the lawn
As daylight draws nearer
And the sun begins to rise
The drops increase in number
Right before my eyes
This is nature’s way
Of helping life along
Leaving little kisses
Dew drops on the lawn
The roses taste the sweetness
As do the evergreens
Glistening little kisses
As far as one can see
At the Rio Grande gorge
A high desert camping spot
Sleeping soundly on my back
On a canvas camper cot
Nature's bidding wakens me
Then I know that I must rise
In chilly desert darkness
So I split my sleepy eyes
Horizon to horizon
The resplendent Milky Way!
And it steals my breath away
Mother Earth embraces me
I see Father Sky above
A trinity of unity
An eternity of love
Hesitant to break the spell
Minutes motionless I lie
In this enchanted moment
I could be content to die...
Above the clouds, I long to be
Among the other things I see
Where I can stand and shout out loud
Here I stand, above a cloud!
Where whispy trails of jets in flight
In blue skies, patchwork quilts of white
While here below I am, a grain of sand
As people travel from a far off land
Above the clouds on a pitch black night
The moon peeps out to share his light
The stars still seem to find a way
To dance around the cloud's display
I'm amazed at the ability of man
To send satellites soaring, like they can
Above the clouds and far beyond
Like they posses a magic wand
But, most majestic of them all
Is that snowy mountain top so tall
Where I can stand and shout out loud
Here I stand, above a cloud!
Grasshoppers and katydids
Cactus, growing in the sand
Palm trees near the ocean
May-apples in the woodland
Parrots squawking in the jungle
Moss creeping over rotten logs
Luscious ferns filling forests
Huge dinosaurs, tiny tree frogs
Watercress and lettuce leaves
English ivy, honeysuckle vines
Grass snakes and lunar moths
Cedar, fir, spruce, and pines
Myriad grasses, filling meadows
And blanketing every lawn
Fields of corn and sugarcane
Fat caterpillars, tiny inchworms
The stem of every flower
the fat shell of every bean
Looking around, it would seem
Our Father favors the color green
Petals in the wind I saw
with my girl one day.
On some boughs of trees they stirred
with a gentle sway.
As they moved, the wind picked up
till that mighty breeze
blew the petals all at once
off the pretty trees.
Then the petals danced around
swirling to the ground
like small ballerinas whose
slippers make no sound.
Crimson, pink and purple, they -
like bright butterflies -
fluttered and sashayed before
our enchanted eyes.
Suddenly the air went still.
fell to ground while some adorned
my sweet daughter’s hair.
Happily she shook them out,
turned to me and grinned.
No more would we see that day
petals in the wind.
For PD's third contest for poems about nature
The very first week of every October
Bright yellow, orange, amber, purple and red
Splash artistry on New Hampshire’s White Mountains
As the tourism season comes to a head
North Conway’s old railroad station is abuzz
Men in traditional conductor attire
Escort sightseers to seats with pane-free windows
To peer out at landscapes in colors of fire
The spectrum on dappled mountains evokes awe
Caught by camera lenses as cool winds blow
Offering a chilly reminder to all
That these peaks will soon be blanketed by snow
Clickety-clack, the train hugs its aged track
Freeze-frame photograph images will remain
Recalling the splendor of fall’s peak foliage
Until spring breathes life to the mountains again
* Rides on the North Conway train are only offered
in autumn. Written for the "Fall" contest.
My heart is amazed by His boundless compassion
My heart is in awe of the love of the Lord
The hand of His mercy endureth forever
What riches of kindness in heaven are stored!
My heart is amazed at the sight of creation
My heart is in awe of the works of the King
The fountains and river, the depth of the ocean,
The rock and the trees of His greatness shall sing!
My heart is amazed on the height of the mountain
My heart is in awe of the stars in the sky
Unmoving, unchanging, the Lord is eternal
Though years of the mortal so quickly fly by
My heart is amazed by the lamb and the lion
My heart is in awe of the birds in the air
Created for man by the hands of the Master
The heights and the depths of his dwelling to share
My heart is amazed by the King of the nations
My heart is in awe of His death on the tree
The Lamb that was Slain, by the word of the Father
Arose from the grave my Redeemer to be!
-- By Isaiah Zerbst- Feb 9, 2013 - 184.108.40.206. metre --
Magical crescent moon
Shining on the path below
Lighting the way for lovers
Together as they stroll
Exploring the enchantment
Of the animals and the trees
Finding their own Utopia
Beneath natures canopy
Together they may hear
A love birds sweet melody
As the crickets and a bullfrog
Seem to join in harmony
Sparkling stars and dewdrops
Fireflies dance about merrily
As winds song within the leaves
Plays a lovers symphony
The smell of jasmine in the air
Rose and chamomile so sweet
With just a soft hint of patchouli
A lovers perfume as they meet
The mystery and excitement
Passionate kisses, perfect date
These two lovers souls connect
In this mesmerizing place
Birds doth fly above the sky,
flowers fair and nigh;
as the sun comes shining by,
wet white sand to dry.
Soft the breeze from gentlest seas,
sweetly strums guitar;
lassie sings of love and sees
sailor from afar.
HAVE YOU TRIED A 7/5 TROCHEE - POETRY CONTEST
SPONSOR : ANDREA DIETRICH
19 April 2015
Elegant Goldie and handsome Leaf Red
Brushed one another, thus happened to meet
mid-air, where Goldie by Red then was led
In one-two-three, one-two-three, one-two-three beat.
Gliding and twirling, they waltzed all around,
Up the hill, down the hill, over a stream.
Sliding but never quite touching the ground,
Like Fred with his Ginger, they danced like a dream.
Goldie was glowing with sun’s going down.
Red seemed like crimson against twilight sky.
Rustling his suit while she whirled in her gown,
They glittered while wafting first low and then high.
Nature was humming the Falling Leaves song;
Chill autumn breezes kept urging them on.
Fluttering fluttering all the night long,
With hoot owls hoo-hooing, they danced until dawn.
Suddenly, all became still in day’s light.
The couple was parted, for wind ceased to blow.
There came drifting down something moist and white.
Farewell, pretty leaves. Now is Dance of the Snow.
For Francine Roberts' Nature Story Contest
Though it seems like petals fell by the wind
But actually the flower pushed them out
One by one they would fall from the flower
But somehow the wind seemed to know no doubt
Soon as the petals came loose the wind blew
Carried them far in the air, so privileged
But the flower held firm to those last few
It wasn’t letting the wind gain leverage
But as the petals came loose, and wind blows
Petals would dance a special loving dance
Sometimes two would intertwine twice as strong
Flowing was second nature like a trance
Powers of the flower outweigh the wind
But the petals when free get a joy ride
No matter the petal, wind will get you
Free to flow down, nature you must abide
Entrant into Gail Angel Doyle's "Petals In The Wind" contest