Poem | |
GREEN, GREEN, GREEN!!!
My name is Jade Shamrock Green.
I will not eat one single green bean.
When I get mad, I turn green.
I wear my favorite green jeans.
I am hypnotize by the color green.
Not every green path leads to a flowing stream.
I lay on the grass so green.
I won a jackpot of green.
To visit the Green Mountains in Vermont is like a dream.
My eyes are shaded green.
My jealousy comes in the color green.
I diet on green veggies that are lean.
The Green Bay Packers are my favorite team.
I believe all frogs should come in green.
It’s a family gift to carry a green thumb gene.
My garden has the greenest life I have ever seen.
Lemons are yellow, but limes are green.
The Irish do not all believe in green.
In my greenhouse all, the plants are full of good self-esteem.
I'm the jester who wore a green beret for the king and queen.
The unripe sour apple is moldy green!
Flicking me a green bugger is gross and mean.
Why do all leprechauns wear color green?
Not all clovers have only three leafs of green.
Green is the middle color of the rainbow team.
Good Luck, Care Bear's charming eyes are emerald green.
My favorite color has always been green.
This is all about wearing green on March the seventeen.
. (a) S.K.A.T. POETRY (re-post) by;p.d.
. 3-17-10 (update) 3-17-11
Poem | |
Enchantment of magic’s sweet passion has bound me
With minutes and hours I now must reclaim;
Spellbound, love calls to the spirits around me
And drifts into dreams at the sound of his name.
The breath of his memory awakens from slumber;
I hear the soft whispers of a loving refrain
That stirs in my heart such an infinite hunger
With incense to scent each exquisite strain.
The face of my love comes back in a vision
With sounds of his voice in the soft grey gloom;
In a twilight of stars when the scent is Elysian
I wait for him under the plum tree in bloom.
So hushed is the flute of a love song enchanted
With music he played when his mouth was stirred;
I now hear the song so tenderly haunted
Invading my dreams with all that I heard.
As green leaves and blossoms twine and are braided
The strings of my heart have come undone;
When the lush of the green vine is woven unfaded
The binding of my heart with his is as one.
Poem | |
I found myself against a willow propped.
The stones nearby me were a hundred-fold.
and one by one I tossed them as they plopped
into a rill while other pebbles rolled,
as if with one accord, away from me.
Their hundred ripples bubbled sweet champagne.
I drank. . . and then I tasted poetry.
saw flowers dance, and nothing was mundane!
Elysian then became the air I breathed.
The sun glowed purplescent. Hocus-pocus!
I lay in greenest green while music wreathed
the meadow, lulling me. . . till I lost focus.
I woke to dusk and that inquietude
that ever shadows my dark solitude.
For PD's GREEN contest (old poems only)
Poem | |
As early dawns sunlight, of golden glass....
Now drips from the ambient forest of green
Showers of light reflected, from across the pond
Gazing amid the cabins threshold; these love laced thoughts
A nightingale lingering; singing atop the windows ledge
Faraway whispers, from the preludings winds of time....
Ushering these images, beyond the corridores of ones soul
Still waters resurgent; resplendent, upon the silverish blue
Alluvions resillence, painted in criterion before my eyes
Lavishly renewed colours, brushed gently this heart of mine....
Fireflies and butterflies, floating through the turquoise sky
Melodies atop this brilliant canvas', carousels of life ~
But, as the pendulums gravities of truth sway inside my mind
I find myself within a fortitude of ponder; fortified
By the realization that not all is fairytales and or, ice cream rides....
Pestilence of plights befalling millions and who's wrong or right?
Thus in the referendum of self, one must choose and decide
The ways of justice, balanced upon the scales of conscious
Betwixt the pabulums dividing lines of love and hate?
And a poet writes....
Peering across the pond unto the other side
Beautiful faces beautiful eyes, beautiful hearts and beautiful lives
Red Robins sing and White Swans they fly ~
Embracing them all; this knowing; these treasures inside!?
The forest green....
Poem | |
She stands there like she has for years
The life in her all gone
Once she wore a coat of green
And she'd be filled with song
As feathered friends of every kind
Would rest among her leaves
And as in life the same in death
Our tree will never grieve.
So all alone, she looks, this tree
All etched against black clouds
Although the life in her be gone
She stands there looking proud
And all her majesty is seen
By those with eyes to see
I take her picture once again
Try to catch her mystery
21 September 2013 @1920hrs.
Poem | |
Green…you always reflected in my peripheral
And kept watch as I tried to color my world
But there I lay in my blacks and my blues,
lifeless and faltering In monotone hues.
Through kaleidoscope eyes, I envisioned my skies
But the pot at the rainbow was storybook lies
so with nothing to gain and nothing to lose,
I just shuffled around In my blacks and my blues.
Never did I imagine you!, Green… to be my savior
But there you arose, out of my dark abyss
With your bottle green dress and scarlet kiss
Your emerald green eyes and unbridled bliss.
Now my kaleidoscope dreams have all been unfurled
Since you Green, have colored my world
You rescued my heart, Green
You rescued my heart.
Poem | |
Light searches softly for me down here in the loamy dark;
I offer my awakening self to the vast blue canvas of sky.
Leaves filter a soft sigh of air through trees
Yielding their branches to the balmy, blossom-swirling breeze.
Open me gently to promises that still pulse in me, let me
Feel the sweet green unfurling of hope and possibility.
Turquoise murmurings of water seep into my scented skin.
Hear me as my floral notes begin to sing of a happy return of spring;
Efflorescing in sun-gold streams and trembling sunbeams.
Valleys sling their green hammocks between the hills
And pale fingers of light slide softly under my lucent skin.
Lucid memory will return again: how the sun's rays reached for me,
Luminous upon my white fragrant frailty; how the vast expanse of blue
Entranced me, as I awakened to ascend the ladder of light,
Yearning for my perfumed release from the earth's cold clamp.
Poem | |
Continued from Part 2
Ah Consuela! I’m watching as lightning at midnight in green Spanish eyes
Kindles cracks within crystals like flashes from pistols residing inside of the gloom,
And it hovers above us betraying a dove as she basks in the blackness of doom.
Ah Consuela! I’m watching, distilling despair in her green Spanish eyes,
And the bitterness stings like the snap of the strings when a mystical mandolin sighs
As the vampire shades suck the life from charades neath the resinous residue skies.
Ah Consuela! I’m watching, she steps to the ledge with her green Spanish eyes,
For the terrace hangs high and she’s thinking to fly and abandon fate’s merry-go-round.
At the edge I perceive her and rush to retrieve her - she stumbles, falls far to the ground.
Ah Consuela! I’m watching the sparkles a’ spilling from green Spanish eyes.
As I peer from the railing, with evening exhaling, I cry out a lover’s lament -
There she lies midst the crowd with her spirit unbowed, but her body’s all broken and bent.
Ah Consuela! I’m watching, she beckons me hither with green Spanish eyes,
And I’m slightly amazed being snared in her gaze and a’ swirl in a hurricane way,
But the seconds are slipping, my courage is dripping, the moment is bleeding away.
Ah Consuela! I’m touching, she weeps tender tears with her green Spanish eyes;
As the breezes cease blowing, her essence leaves, flowing, in streams neath the ambient light,
And the droplets drip swarming, so silent, yet warming, like rain in a midsummer night.
Ah Consuela! I’m holding, and hushed by the hints in her green Spanish eyes,
While her whispers are breathing the breaths of the seething electrical skeletal winds,
And the words paint the poems that rivers a’ slowin’ reveal where the waterfall ends.
Ah Consuela! I’m fading in fires a' flicker in green Spanish eyes,
As she plays back the past, she abandons and casts away matters that no longer mend...
And she reached out instead, as she lifted her head, and we kissed as she parted, my friend.
Ah Consuela! I’m tangled, entombed, trapped in tales of your green Spanish eyes,
In forsaken cantinas beyond the arenas where night-time illusions once flowed,
For the ash neath my shoulder still throbs as it smoulders some place near the end of the road.
Poem | |
Across the valley
Stood the mountain I believed to be id
Two levels and a summit
Made it appear layered
Like first-dynasty pyramids
It would be a long climb
Step, stumble, slip,
Clutch and elevate my entire being
The valley’s simple green plants
Lived in symbiotic coexistence
With bees and ants
Nature nurturing nature
An embryonic journey
Between the Tigres and Euphrates
Such splendor might have caused me to remain
But I walked on
At the base of the mountain I paused
The summit hidden by a cloud ring
I looked back upon my Mesopotamia
Hailing its verdant simplicity
Questioning the summit’s worth
But uncontrollable curiosity
And unquenchable desire
Edged me forward
I climbed onto rocky soil
I stumbled as stones slipped ‘neath my feet
Reaching out to clutch a bush
I pulled upward
The first plateau ran before me as a brook
I peered into the pool of life
Finding amphibians, reptiles, fish
Ankles rubbing green algae
Creating eerie sensitivity
The water cooled me
Thinning air brought calm
A sandy bottom soothed me
Such harmony might have
Caused me to remain
But above me
Within a mystical Saturnic cloud
Secrets of the summit beckoned
Edging me to elevate
Sweaty palms grasped a wild rose’s stem
Sharp thorns drew blood
My body fatigued, I cursed the climb
What marvels lay above the ring
The second plateau’s diversity thrilled me
Simple moss, brown rabbits
Deer with long, willowy legs
Hundreds of life forms
Gave me entrance
To Thoreau’s untouched paradise
The alluring cloud hung low above me
I questioned my destination
The second plateau’s oasis might have
Caused me to remain
But irresistible desire
Again edged me to step, stumble
Slip, clutch and elevate
I entered the cloud layer
Feeling hot and cold dancing vapor
The mountain I believed to be id
Swam under my feet
Perplexed, I muddled upward
Above the timber line
No trees, no grass
No plants, no animals
Still I was curious for id
And took the final step
A cold granite peak
Amidst the grey moisture
Self-realization was achieved
I had seen all that was beautiful
But passed it by
The key to paradise was offered
Yet I had been a martyr to my own desire
I could not see
The valley, brook,
Or paradise of total life
I could see
And I cried
For want of something beautiful
Poem | |
‘Come bring my bow of English yew and raise me from this bed
And let me look upon the wood where once I lay my head’
With fading sight and wearied limb through window rose he gazed
With summoned strength and trembling arm his mighty bow was raised
Sinews drawn to fullest test he let the arrow fly
And sinking back upon his bed he breathed a heavy sigh
‘Follow yonder willow shaft through forests darkened keep
For flighted by the angels, twill appoint where I shall sleep’
The stalwart oak tree caught the shaft, appointed by Gods grace
Beside a brook, in bluebell’d wood, there marked his resting place
In tunic Gold and Lincoln green, his sword upon his breast
Beneath the trees of Sherwood green was Robyn laid to rest
That mighty heart, its labour done, when stilled its Valliant quest
All England mourned its stalwart son who bore the Locksley crest
And through the silent forest, soft April showers wept
To wash that place from hearts and minds, a secret ever kept
One maid, one Friar, with little John, in sombre vigil stood
In silent witness mourning, the passing of the Hood
On England’s green and pleasant land was played a Hero’s part
And Never more on sceptre’d isle will beat a truer heart