Email Poem

Your IP Address: 3.147.47.108
Your Email Address:
To Email Address:
Subject
Personal Note:
Poem Title:
Poem
Oh ...

Spring-tide ...
Always things that juxtapose,
Life never flows as smoothly as a gentle rill 'round a stone.
Brief notes of harmony, torn asunder by a cacophony of chaos,
Turmoil the norm ... reality the chill that bites the skin ...

Brackets of the sated curiosity, and the known of all unknown,
Turn like the shutter of an eyelid, weighted by contemplation to the inner sway ...
The depths of a soul, stripped of intention or care ...
Spirit oscillating in the course of thoughts random, churning,
Bustling to introspection by memories on the breeze ...

Yet ...

Spring-tide, I know you're here ...
I see branches bend and dance, caressed by the hand of the wind,
Like tender fingers through a loved one's locks, golden ...
Soft tendrils of invisible energy tickle the blossoms like sprites,
And they giggle in soft response, so I know, you're here ...

I see the sun Demi-détourné on the wave tops,
Like a million gold coins, spilling, and I know you're here ...
I hear the belly laugh of a baby drenching the day in innocence,
And giving my worries their due and just dismissal,
And I know you're here ...

A sweet serenade of "peepers" cloaks the twilight in softened dreams,
The music of wistful longings hushed by an evening mist,
An essence of brokenhearted sunsets, burning in the heavens,
And splashed with trembling starlight ...
Yes, I know you're here ...

Souvenirs of love pressed into the pages of life,
Such as the petals from a first-date rose, long since wilted,
(Along with the memory of the love they expressed),
By the gently torn and frayed offenses of affection, lost ...
Melancholy, but sweet ... oh, I know you're here ...

Swirls of wonder and promise buoy my spirit, anew ...
Glorious aromas and impulses flood my senses with expectancy,
And like the flawless and vestal dreams of a child,
My hopes are born sun-ward on diaphanous wings, sure ...
And I know, you're here ...

Yes, Spring-tide ...

Always things that juxtapose,
But your presence in each day's circumstance
Gives reality its touch of magic ...
Like dew on the first daffodil, the joyous press of your prospect
Alights on each consequence and consideration ...

Your leaving was but ephemeral ...
Still, my guileless heart knew even then,
In the wistful and keen, umber ache of Autumn,
That you'd be here with me ...
Yes, I know ... oh, I know to my depths ...

That you're here.




~ 1st Place ~  in the "Your Best Free Verse 2018" Poetry Contest", John Hamilton, Judge & Sponsor.

~ 2nd Place ~  in the "July Standard Contest" Poetry Contest, Brian Strand, Judge & Sponsor.
CAPTCHA Preview
Type the characters you see in the picture
Required