Lake being so calm and crystal clean,
ripples and reflects so serene.
Every nerve dived in beauty,
while eyes perform their duty.
Blessed with moon's light,
mysteries evolving in the night.
Lake seems to be taken aback,
as if frightened by the wind's attack.
Perplexed to make a decision,
mind occupied by fear's illusion.
Whether to move in or to stay,
just longs to feel joy on the way.
I stood up to leave,
with my mind at reprieve.
Heart being so confined,
still no footprints left behind.
Forest and Dove
Artist: Max Ernst
Turn on the Lights
White of his eye, orange nose, black bird.
Blue sky flying high above the dark forest.
Scenery is haunting; like the kid’s movie “Coraline.”
Disturbing, the feeling of being lost in the forest.
Nightmare of trees depicted as serrated teeth.
(Hansel and Gretel in a cage) dove’s bars behind him.
Is he free, can he flee; will the bars surround him?
The woods, towering like skyscrapers, tight
in the frame; childhood claustrophobia, intense.
The full-bodied bird appears to be caught
“in the headlights,” like a deer taken aback.
Tenebrous green and rust brown, skeleton stature;
shadowy beasts bullying, stalking, terrorizing.
I can’t turn away. My eyes take in the scenery.
No matter how small the canvas, the ink
seeps into my brain, driving me mad in the night.
Surreality; reality of the young and very old.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Paul the squirrel tucked acorns 'neath his chin,
dreamt of tides and boarding in~
a tail for rope, a nut for gold,
his oak ship creaked, both brave and bold.
So Paul climbed the mast so vast~
Oak tree rigging, held on fast.
Acorn doubloons filled his chest,
With whiskey in paw,
Whispered, Aye, the West is best!
But storm clouds loomed—his tail went slack~
when oak-leaves turned his raft aback.
Yet home he scampered, safe and spry,
to stash his loot in his piebald tie.
To those who sit, anonymously making choices,
behind the soupy site
My gratitude, feel honoured to be chosen best new poet for two weeks and also POTD,
inspired, so more poems I will write
At age seventy seven, told that I am old, my reply, "if I think that way I will be"
some are taken aback
This honour bestowed upon me, I now know, gotta long way to go,
before I regard myself, as an uninspired hack
Beautiful!
Beautiful!
Beautiful!
In cohesion they recite
Walking in a prideful cheer
Towards thy who's proud to have accomplished a task so mean.
Broadened her smile seems
As a feathery crown she wears
In her imagination
Just to feel like the queen she's named by reality.
Wow!
Her mind exclaims
For she sees what was clouded
Before the road was paved by an idea
Formidable by thy's mind.
Thankful she remains as she's taken aback.
A mouthful of rewinds
Comfortable in the depths of her luxurious heart ,
Where a victory unforgotten is crowned.
Do the eyes see, or does the mind perceive
What shadows creep warily upon the eve
What forgotten past horde our gainful years
What winged doom bearers rouse our darkest fears
While doubts fester in the fields of the failed legionnaire
And fallen angels flock about thy desperate prayer
Know, aback the world dreaming dragon, I'll be there
Arisen from the dust and decay of The One's, promise broken
I am all that, of which mean, "power", awoken
The wailing grief of shadows fallen where darkness dare
Cleaved in twain by the righteous sword's gleaming glare
Nigh falls the last darkling felled to the abysmal deep
Goeth now from fretful slumbers to restful sleep
For, nor even death himself may reap
thy mortal soul
Whilst I stand guardian; the sacred fold
A fellow strode right up to me
tightened his belt and set his jaw
proclaimed his fame gesticulatedly
Taken aback, I mentioned that fame is fleeting
while those who toil in obscurity
~ do so until eternity
pink moon with purple shades
at the bosom of the blue skies
enticing paradise of divine hues
sings the nighttime lullabies
cypress trees charcoal black
arches to touch the moon
whispering their secrets shyly
a night chanting they croon
moonshine drizzles over lakes
silhouettes dance on the wave
tiny stars glitter on the azure
delineated as diamonds in pave
solemn somberness dissolves
aback the cascaded treetops
impetuous yet mystical gaze
downpours amity drop by drop.
SAM THE SQUIRREL
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Sam the Squirrel had a hunger profound
In a park, he was often found,
With nuts in his cheeks so tight,
He scurried with all his might,
But alas, his appetite had no bound.
One day, as he climbed up so high,
In a tree with a nut-laden sky,
Saw bird feeder, what a sight!
'Twas filled with a feast, a delight,
"This snacking's too good to pass by!"
With a cleverness that took them aback,
He pilfered birds’ seeds in munchy attack,
Birds squawked and complained quite loud,
Sam the Squirrel was quite proud,
His cunning had earned him smorgasbord snack.
A cloud from the sky
plopped down on my knee
Said, ‘Do you realize
all my rain is for free’
Not only that
for the cloud was not done
asking, ‘Are you aware
I shield folks from the sun’
Taken aback, I kept my mouth shut ~
relaxing under a shady chestnut
When I was younger, I thought that in retirement I would take pictures of or paint beautiful clouds situated so vividly above us.
Clouds more often appear as wonderous displays in the canopy.
Clouds sometime seems so ominous and threatening.
Clouds often hover above us like a band of darkness and at other
times, they are white and crystal clear. Some clouds are blown by
the winds and descend in tornadic ways that are too close for comfort, twisting in rotations of destruction.
Casual observers of clouds may be filled with fright. Living in a region where clouds change so suddenly, never have I observed clouds as I do presently. I think that real farmers are not taken aback when grey clouds appear. If they dared to be frightened by troubling clouds, perhaps they would never sow seeds.
Perhaps someday I will follow through on what I once wanted to do. Perhaps I'll begin to paint beautiful clouds as I sit under a shady tree.
Through the beige isle, veins of green holler aloud
Lush foliages of maple, yet I pick upon a rosebud
Mists of sentiment brabble, springing whistles of reminiscing
From the floor, they call out to me, unrelenting
I kept at it, pacing across the vast meadow
Lights begin to dim, even so, I shall escape under the nightly glow
Along the paths, I turned over, my gaze fixed on a lonely, yet luminous flower
Gasping for its life, each breath drew me closer, soon after, I saw it flicker
Taken aback, with these bare hands, I gave it my company
As it swayed, we fell in harmony
The fickle daffodil bathed in silence, hapless, it let out a thud
Gently, sunlight veiled its charcoal petals, a light breeze blew, and I too shall return to mud
Out of nowhere it seems, he appeared to me.
He had the eyes of an eagle; the heart of a lion.
He had the strength of a bear, but he was a man.
He posed questions to me in the tone of a teacher.
My curiosity ran high when in a gentle voice
He said to me, "The answers are for you alone
To find". Taken aback, I stared and waited.
He then asked me the following 8 questions:
"What is your vision?
What is your mission?
What is your plan?
What is your passion?"
"Without vision, where is your hope?
Without mission, where is your destiny?
Without plan, can there be victory?
Without passion, do you really care?"
And then it seems, he drew pleasure from
My staring eyes, my pounding heart, and my
Feeble strength dripping down my spine. He then
Stepped back into nowhere and quickly disappeared.
To the best of my memory, the word brainwash
has been used in reference to me only twice.
The first time happened more than 50 years ago.
The second one occurred less than a year ago.
One referred to my religious involvement.
The other was connected to social ideology.
The first one came from a stranger
The other came from a relative.
When told that I had been brainwashed
in reference to my beliefs about Christ, I felt
nothing amiss about such assessment.
In fact, such a veiw of me was acceptable.
However, when charged by a relative that I had
been among certain people and allowed myself
to be brainwashed by them, I was taken aback
and deeply hurt.
I took offense by my relative's accusation and
told him so. He apologized for how it made me
feel, and I have forgiven him. Notwithstanding,
although the subject has not risen again, there
is a very thin wall between us regarding that
encounter. We are close friends, but I cannot
deny that something 'not good' happened that day.
It was on the 7th of May.
It was in the early part of the day.
He appeared but was never invited.
Upon seeing his kind, I was not delighted.
There were smaller ones I had seen,
But not this size since I was fifteen.
Slowly, around the corner, I saw him glide.
He then settled into his curl as if to hide.
I called a friend and learned that he was out of town.
I then called a relative who could not be found.
Years ago, I touched a large one as it lay in a hedge.
"He's harmless" are the words that my coworker alleged.
Now, 60 years later, a large one had glided onto my patio.
Of this I was certain: He could not stay but had to go.
I then quickly reached for a hoe and a stick for my defense.
That snake was in the wrong place; Of this I was convinced.
Indeed, I was a little afraid and taken aback;
But my fear quickly switched into a mode of attack.
050325PS
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