I feel Gods breath in nature
The birds are singing. Beautiful it be
The trees are swaying on the morning breeze
Oh how it fills me with such mystery
Oh my, how nature fills me with such ease
I love the flowers; love the birds, and trees
I feel Gods breath in everything that grows
Something it glows within the heart of me
A force of love so deep within me flows
When I’m with nature something in me knows
That God is good, how can this not be true
When birds sing out, I always feel his glow
The perfume of the flowers brings it too
Oh, nature, how she thrills me through, and through
Seems, God is there in everything I do
17 November 2014
Obviously influenced by the English sonnet there ia also still a Celtic influece in making a link from stanza to stanza.. It still follows the three quaterns and a couplet pattern, but each stanza is linked to the next giving a rhyme pattern of;
a. b. a. b. . b. c. b. c. . c. d. c. d. .d.d.
Here is an example. It is written in 10 syllables throughout.
It crawls upon cold paws
To clutch with talons and claws
Nearing its prey, it hunts
With opening eyes and jaws
To shove with power and thrust
Upon insatiable desire and lust
It thrashes again and throws
Ardor so unjust
It bursts in colors of mist
In crimson hue and amethyst
Its forces like fireworks rise
Within emotion, organs, and amidst
In body it lies, in surreal disguise
Leaving no chance for mind to coexist
Beckon these eyes a whisper in trees
Scarlet passion in hot molten heat
With your fiery touch I will hit my knees
Fevered oscillation on warm amber sheets
This skin awaits your raw carmine kiss
Breath…indrawn from smoldering flames
Inside deep eyes of sweet chocolate Swiss
In searing red throes I call out your name
Trembling in the blazing torch of your touch
I whimper blue....a shattered disarray
A blistered journey…you are my crutch
A bursting heart pulsing crimson display
Morning awaits a crushed coral flower
Entombed......inside an ebony tower
Dancing around a cauldron fire
to the sounds of a golden lyre
and a bubbling brew
of bat and shrew
caught in the cobbled rain
they release their heat and pain
into the darkening world
while your senses become unfurled
to herbs and secret balms
and your beating heart calms
into a sensuous trance
as you join in the dance
of turning, swirling,
death defying twirling
seduced by flickering flames
you lose time and names
of bad or good
must and should
spiraling into a peace
to find your heart's release
through this dervish portal
ever after an immortal
in the dance.
I may slap you, curse you, smack you
Don’t get too serious honey, its monthly fun
I am PMS ing and my trauma is true
Be my gentleman and Pass My Shotgun
I may hate your friends and knock them down
Be any handsome man or cute chick
Don’t get them here when I am around
I am PMS ing, People Make me Sick
I may laugh out loud at your silly jokes
And the very next moment won’t find them funny
That catastrophic emotional trauma pokes
I am PMS ing, its Psychotic Mood Shift honey
Every month, within me I sense this ruinous storm
It’s not me honey, this phantom is Premenstrual Syndrome
Born cold with a dark emptiness within
Seeking to understand the reasons why
Another life? A payment for its sin
Leaves a quiet quiver when the soul cries
Wanting eyes flow with a warm stream of tears
Struggling through distant worlds out of time
Lost among the confusion from the years
The lonely chime of my eternal rhyme
Perception fills the universe with lies
Tugging the long thread woven in its cloth
To mend life's fragile coat with blinded eyes
Feel it burn in death's flame another moth
I've tasted the waters of life's fountain
And quenched my old thirst again and again
(An invented ghost tale)
A tale was told how centuries ago
at one old wooden bridge, there had occurred
a tragedy, for led there by some foe,
three children, by his scythe, were massacred.
It plagued my mind what drove him to this act;
how evil could prevail and not atone!
So one dank night the path to death I tracked,
and on the bridge I found myself alone.
Then suddenly I shrank. There loomed ahead
a disembodied soul with horror’s face.
Then circling endlessly the bridge, he fled,
as smaller ghosts with bandied blades gave chase.
Three gravestones lie nearby - no less. . . no more.
And yet the spirits I had seen were four!
For the Ghost Story Poetry Contest of Kelly Deschler
Euphoria this morning, it hits me
now and then. A feeling of joy and peace.
A feeling of well being, sense of we
rather than I, quickening, a release,
knowledge that there is another world
so close that I can touch it if I choose,
a sense of all the others that I hold
at bay on ordinary days, let loose
in the room, the house, in the universe,
and I know I am invited to join
them where they are, here and in the reverse,
seen and unobserved, a flip of a coin
away. I hold the door open slightly,
at times for hours, then, close it gently.
Uplifting morn by the lake
As I sit here beside Lake Joondalup
With silent morn as yet not woken up
Green parrots sing from gnarled old wetland trees
As leaves they dance and whirl on the morning breeze.
A tiger snake he comes, a swimming by
As gulls they screech and fly into the sky
Two kangaroos, so big, and strong, and grey
They seem so happy on this perfect day
The air is filled with so much mystery
I sit and watch filled with serenity
As the sun peeps through the clouds there in the sky
From its orange hue, I hear a raven cry.
As Morning silence Fill’s my very soul
The dawn, arrives and make’s me feel so whole.
30 June 2014 @ 1432hrs.
For Elly's Sonnet contest.
I am looking right at you and you don’t even know it.
I will deter your intent and throw you off a steep cliff.
But in the air will be my snuff and gruff you can sniff.
Eventually I will have some sort of mercy of just a bit.
Surely we are above empowering manners of tat for tit.
Maybe I’ll light a scented candle and blow you my whiff.
Or maybe I will strand you grounding your bones to stiff.
Opposed or decomposed and still composed I won’t quit.
Inside or out,
I’ll throw down.
I am the clout.
Don’t mistake my identity,
Either or, it’s your eternity.
® Registered: Ann Rich 2009
Silence tramples this warm beating cave
Puncture wounds, severed, beaten, and bruised
Thine eyes (whispered) a whimper...confused
Silence...on bated breath......await the wave
that thus empowers and laugher's save
Message imparts (printed) feeling used
This enigma, worship, (a pine) refused
Lips that any crimson blood would crave
For love (this destiny) shifts so fast
Upon a crest, risen, a shimmer
A silver mad, that dashes past.....
Apricot hues, red (wild) hot simmer
Upon a phantasm that finds no last
Pages unwritten...shadows...thus cast
The Mystique of Mars
Mars, fourth planet orbiting the sun,
was once a harbinger of hostility and aggression.
Aptly named after Roman god of war,
with sister Earth, it shares the same star.
Red, resplendent orb gracing the night sky,
like a whirling dervish, it artfully dances by.
Two moons captured in a strong gravitational grip,
Phobos and Deimos tag along on a wild cosmic trip.
From ancient times clouded in a veil of mystery,
we've tried to delve into its origins and history.
Is it home to an unfriendly alien race?
Or is it just a cold, devoid of life, kind of place?
While much about Mars is yet unknown,
perhaps, future generations will call it home.
A visionary wandered lost one night
inside a tempest thunderous and strong.
He looked for shelter in a canyon. Light
of moon poured down and bitter sweet of song. . .
For as the storm abated, he could hear
a tune that seemed to claim the palisade.
How haunting was that sound that filled his ear!
But no one was around. How was it made?
He sought, as one who thirsted for the truth,
illumination of this mystery.
He climbed on ancient rocks, an eager sleuth,
then came on what he knew to be the key. . .
He found a ghostly clue, a hieroglyph
of one lone flutist, on a smooth-walled cliff.
For Ghosts Contest/Sponsored by Carolyn & Jack
I was jealous of her looks and splendor,
taking over my bed so gracefully.
To her strange charm, yes, men would surrender.
In thought, I wished her life, but secretly.
She climbed upon him as he was sleeping.
Perhaps she thought she'd found her next appeal.
Enchanted, I watched as she went creeping
upon my husband! What would they reveal?
Feeling her touch upon him would he wake
to see her there atop him face to face?
I wondered should I stay or silence break.
Wasn't long after, they in arm embrace,
that husband, half asleep, but with some charm
gently blew the spider from his arm.
Across a flowered field, I gaze.
A daisy weeps through morning haze.
One lone petal departs her side -
a "love-me-not" is softly sighed.
Gazing away from love denied -
one more leaflet from thee is pried.
Another dream towards fate's romance;
a petal plucked lends second chance.
The daisy's hearth has met defeat.
Her children sob beneath her feet.
Deflowered by a lover's act -
one last petal remains in tact.
"Love-me-not or love me so true?"
I leave that answer up to you.
Two became one and there was one.
In your likeness one was made one.
Like the seed of a farmer,
I prospered as a tree by the water.
I see your light under the sun;
And sing for joy for all you've done.
I breathe your peace under the moon;
And hear of ur glory in the noon.
I think of your goodness and wonder;
And feel your love so tender.
I can only imagine the depth,
Of your love. Even to death,
You loved me. I can only imagine,
How you love me. I can only imagine.
The hunter hunted; the past comes stalking,
breath now visible, I quicken my pace,
dusk has fallen, nature is now talking,
autumn's chill causes my heart to race.
My eyes scan dense forest from left to right,
I stop, gain my footing in the thicket,
only branch and crimson leaves in my sight,
owls call out, and prey upon the cricket.
Voices seem to speak from the babbling brook,
cold stones, worn smooth, waters of countless days,
eyes are everywhere, yet nowhere I look,
something is near, I cannot get away.
Struggling, my arrow kept at the ready,
my once stealthy hand, is now unsteady.
This was my original entry for Debbie Guzzi's contest - "A Crown of Sonnets"
(This is also the first sonnet that I had ever written.)
I love it all
The mystery of a blood red rose
The beauty of a heart that glows
A songbird singing to the day
I love it, it’s all okay
A river flowing lazily
The vastness of the mighty sea
At sunrise when life seems so gay
I love it all, it’s all okay
Green leaves dancing on the breeze
The bird’s there singing in the trees
You know I really have to say
I love it all, It’s all okay
Even when the skies are grey
I love it all, It’s all okay
21 December 2014
Together they live happily forever
in a life filled with sorrows and sadness
they will be together, always never
excluded from reality for life
Forever or never they live to cry,
away they will be gone with but a knife
the choice to live happily or to just die
A knife or life, forever or never
a quarrel, a death, leaving one alone
he lies on the ground, a knife in his heart
a plan, a scheme, its never to be known
She says to herself "we must never part"
Now two dead hearts lie, killed with the same knife
Why? Was it love or just a wast of life?
When it is darkening
And the clouds are gathering
In the heightening to start raining,
All you see is lightning brightening
Followed by loud bass hammering frightening
Not for threatening but for enlightening,
The source of an ink so inspiring
Charles melody is a lightning ink.
No need for disputing
Why wasting time debating?
For the lightning is captivating,
The ink makes you think
The melody is a remedy,
Charles melody is a lightning ink.
By: Charles Melody, (Lightning ink).
The voice, angelic, sings beyond the sealed door
Draws its tune from Prescences profound,
From Beings not in this world found;
A gift conferred to none before,
As treasures from the Deeps to shore.
Her notes align to build the sound
That enfolds the mystic all around,
That skywards lifts her eyes once more.
Given to God while yet a child,
Hildegard's world was made of faith;
He life a-crowd with visions.
She endured their incandescence wild
Within her head, and proved such wraiths
May make a Heaven of their prisons.
Binding forces clench my worried mind.
For at times, the distractions shroud the inner lining
difficulty in grasping what my conscious is hiding.
Feeling is unknown, unreal, unseen, one of a kind.
An answer whispers to me but it cannot speak.
The Universe detached from its silent pitch.
Almost indescribable, reality is glitched.
For this moment, the mind is strong yet also weak.
I assert those who ask of this power
“Like animals, they too have a sixth sense.”
Confusing yet intriguing this force is immense.
Tranquility I seek for my thoughts amongst the bowers.
The answers to life perhaps are already drawn.
In this world, for now, we are all just pawns.
What lies behind those mysterious black eyes?
What happened to our paths why did they become tied?
Nobody spoke to you, why were you alone?
After seeing you smile my heart has fondly grown.
In the middle of nowhere you're from my home town?
This cannot be real I realise with a frown.
Maybe it's time to put these mushrooms down.
Dangling from the tree I can see,
Broken wind chimes that still sing.
They just hang on by a split string.
Sending a harmony of tunes to thee.
Their tones and vibrations are a bit broken for me.
I listen and I ponder for what tunes they can bring.
From the tree they will sway when they can swing.
Bits and pieces are released through the air and flee.
Caught in the wind is it’s vibrations.
Carrying signals of great magnitude.
Funneling clouds into new creations.
Bringing air into a brand new mood.
Broken wind chimes can still sing a song,
But their messages are scattered all along.
© Copyright: Ann Rich 2007
An incomplete love letter
I apologized for the pain i had caused
Before i switched pens to express the love i still had
The regrets i still harbor
So everybody get on board
Men and women tickets, please!
Tonight we escape the land
But the hearts beat on, as the waves free our souls
Destined to catch the sunset in Madrid
To the lives we've chose
No more regrets
Just rocky sailing to destiny
Oh God, get me home safely
Silver Strands Woven in Gold
Beneath the earth in the vale of the kings
For countless years undiscovered, unseen
In an old leather bag bound with brass rings
A necklet so rare, ‘twas fit for a queen
This beautiful piece with deep lustrous shine
In beaten red gold and fine silver strands
A stunning linked chain of complex design
Depicting the skill of artistic hands
From where had it come, to whom would belong?
A Queen, or princess of elegant grace?
Whose story was writ in the poet’s song
Sung by the slave girls in this ancient place
A priceless treasure found under the sands
A link to the past in fine silver strands
June 24th 2010
Hey, help me out here would you please?
Can you show me where all my whys go?
While you are at it search my I told you so.
More so, that alter ego I want you to seize.
Listen here and listen up, it has twin keys.
I tell you something else, do not tell it no.
It gets bigger and bigger a dynasty I know.
Blow a kiss for me send it my best breeze.
Roll out my red carpet,
Spit-shine your shoes,
Sit it down just park it!
Say I depart my blues!
Look out here there is two just like me,
God blessed you! I have my Twin Key.
®Registered: Ann Rich 2010
As darkness takes our souls to hell
what has become of pleasant dreams
when death has tolled its final bell
no one remains to hear the screams.
Gwyllgi calls, the end is near
as demons dance across the land
their laughter chills a heart with fear
for fate has shown her evil hand.
Awash with blood to purify
the world of Man's eternal rage
no longer can our words deny
Gwyllgi's here to close our page.
And no demons shall rape and kill
for evil comes from Man's own will.
THE B.T.N. (BETTER THAN NOTHING) LOVE
If I had faced then the lonely hall,
The black entrance into my own absence
If I had not lifted the phone to call
Each acquaintance, would I be so tense
But my urge to love and live is so immense
These cradling arms of plastic only stale
And I am ridiculous and intense
And all rejection like a ragman’s bale
With waves of pain beating on the wall
Crying to someone, somewhere, to speak sense -
My questionable right to love you all
Somehow in absence, seems that more intense,
Yet can be measured in this dying squall,
As I am waiting for your questioning call.
Regret flows from the depths of my soul
With the strength of a flood
I have held these gates shut for too long
And though tormenting, they should not be stopped.
The thought of your anguish
Even as I write to you now
Stops my heart cold
As well it should
What I see in front of me
Is a painting of our love
Its most thoughtful brushstrokes
Mottled by hurried abstraction and inattention
A person who had not seen this masterpiece created
Might think it to be refuse and pass it by unknowingly
Letting be obscured the deep beauty of its many scenes
By layers of the tarnish of mistreatment
But as the painter
I see beyond the dark smears
To recall the hours that I attended to the details
And wonder how I could let it become so discolored
The painting that took me my life to create
Has lost its divinity in my careless treatment
And even if I were to refine it
I fear you would always see it as it is today
So today I paint a new masterpiece
One inspired by the muse of respect
A work that you can love through our old age
One that you will look to each day for inspiration
This one will take some time
As I want my brushstrokes to be carefully placed
I need to move steadily to ensure that this time,
My art represents my dream
This is my opus
Don't judge me on my past works
As I have never before had so much skill and inspiration
And never before have I wanted to please you as I do today
With you and my children as my muse
I will paint for you a lifetime
A portrait of devotion and friendship
A panorama of passion and admiration
All I ask is that you gaze upon it with an open heart
And you shall unquestionably love me again