Within the warmth of home, I sit amazed
at the gentle fall of snow through window pane.
Cup of tea in hand, my layered thoughts unchain,
and tumble from the tip of tongue unfazed
to land upon a pristine page appraised,
aided by the silent fall through snowy pane.
Oh, the soft white wintry glow 'pon the lane
leaves a graceful drape, Lord be praised.
Within the warmth of home, I muse on themes
of days to come and those gone bye and so,
I thank the Lord for all of nature's schemes,
for the gift of time, for peace, and for the snow.
Oh, make the blanket deep, I wish to dream,
may all my days and 'morrows have this glow.
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
Floating down with grace and ease
Carried off by the Autumn breeze
Rich in hues of orange and red
Landing in the flower bed
What once was buzzing full of life
Now succumbs to the pruning knife
Staring up at the wilted rose
Another season comes to close
Looking for memories of this day
Not forgetting her fun filled stay
Lying amongst the rocks and sticks
I'm the one the little girl picks
Hurries home with the one she took
Placing it in her poetry book
Fear not the fierce wind, o gentle heart
Though it may rattle the eaves
And give no ear to its whispers with nothing to impart
But shallow promises that hang, like dried, parched leaves
Listen to its mournful wails on the way to some distant shore
Leaving in its trail, the harsh rawness of a chill
And envy not; give pity instead and be sure to keep no scores
For the warmth of a gentle heart is by far, richer still
For who can fathom the baleful howls invading valleys below;
Billowing across the fragile earth and her boundless seas?
Is it in anguish that it protests; who can really know?
Or is it a mere expression of a mighty power that seethes?
Yet, judge not, o gentle heart, but like a blade of grass amidst a storm
Lay calmly into the wind; rely not upon your strength to stay strong
Featuring:) Giorgio Veneto
She writes about Fall's beauty in the rain
The falling raindrops' dance ascribing thence
Bespoken verse that lightens her refrain
before the time they met - her steps commence.
She listens to the soft and rhythmic thrum,
her love turned to escape and cloudy string
Where nimbus mistletoe fell, tears to become
Their kiss of Autumn was symbolic ring.
The first light cotton mists with summer rays
While skyward cheerful laughs adorn the land,
their ceremonial dance diffuses grays,
affectionate embrace, where dreams expand.
Upon September's sky the raindrops gleam
With half of hidden Sun to laugh and beam.
Enjoy the FRAGRANCE OF RAIN
FRAGRANCE OF RAIN
~A Poet Destroyer Collaboration~
Earth’s sphere of fire bids adieu to me
As dying embers gleam across the sea
In rare hues reflected by autumn trees,
Swirling in motion with October’s breeze.
I feel the joy this season has to share
In golden harvest that the branches bear,
And I am thankful for this blessed year,
For divine abundance I share so dear.
The sun and moon take on a special glow
As thunder clouds move swiftly with the flow.
Yes, autumn coaxes feelings to revive,
Those mem’ries of past seasons still alive.
When autumn spreads her dress of lacey frost
I know, in breathless beauty, I’ll be lost.
© 2013 Connie Marcum Wong
The amaryllis yawns in bed of white
The fall of day paints shadows on the rose
Each flower is a ward of solemn night
Their gentle sleep upon which none impose
Beyond the halls and down the drowsy stair
Into the hallowed stillness of the lake
Illuminating every pebble there
The moon believes that no one is awake
Yet bittern watches all with eyes of gold
Alighted new in absence of the light
And with his lusty call so clear and bold
He breaks the quietude and then takes flight
A ripple in the water seeks the shore
It meets the rocks and ripples there no more
Her aqua skirt flows in the sky,
Like curtains of the gods they play;
A Monet brushstroke low to high
- Like life itself they go away.
But for now they dodge and weave
As in a phosphorescent pool;
A flirting dance before they leave,
Behind a veil of colored tulle.
Behind the veil are sapphire eyes,
Behind the skirt, there lies the night.
The curtains are a brief disguise;
Seductive show of pure delight.
Now deeper to the heavens drawn,
Within the night, before it's gone.
Craig Cornish for Archaic Poets Best Rhyme Contest
Leaves twirl through the chilly air
Leaving naked tree limbs flailing
Soft sweaters cover me with care
Winds caress with gentle breezing
Crackling and popping beneath my feet
When I walk across the dirt pathway
Colorful leaves even cover the street
Creating oak, poplar and birch bouquet
Squirrels carry nuts into their haunts
While birds begin to fly toward the south
Melancholy feelings start to taunt
Bringing suspicions of winter’s mouth
Autumn is a season of colorful charms
When harvest begins at all the farms
©2014 by Regina Riddle
Written on July 24, 2014
I grew up amongst every kind of plant and flower,
Beyond our gate was the garden of dear mother;
This Eden was colourful, tangled and so sensational,
So erratic, untamed and just totally unmanageable.
Mother knew the Latin names of each blooming posy,
The iris, lily, rose, aster, dahlia, marigold and peony;
I really loved the purple larkspur and pink gardenia,
Mother said she loved them all but adored camellia.
Brightly painted butterflies danced and glided happily,
And the nesting birds all sang their songs so loudly;
We had an old swing and we would sit and sip tea,
In the shade of the trees, just my mother and me.
O to turn back the clock of time, moving and clicking,
To be in my mother's garden again, a child dreaming.
July 2, 2014
Entered in the contest, Any poem under 15 lines, Poet Destroyer