The lake was still sleeping
a light mist rose above,
a weathered dock could be seen,
its aged wood; full of memories.
The air crisp, breeze light,
trees majestic; watching all.
Squirrels busy scampering,
as a flock of geese soared above.
Way over yonder
clear across the still lake,
shining brightly were yellow shutters,
on our cabin; our special place.
We had toiled the garden
planted yellow roses with great care,
we had painted the old wood shutters,
yellow paint; speckled our hair.
The roof we re-shingled,
one painstaking nail at a time,
we even counted the ouches;
when our hammers got out of line.
With nothing but smiles
on our weary, aching bodies,
we held hands, and went running,
into the still of the lake; giggling.
We swam out to the dock,
it was a race; he won,
my hand he took laughing;
as he quickly scooped me up.
Our toes dangled playfully
sending ripples in the lake,
as we gazed at our cabin;
yellow shutters; fresh with paint.
The trees swayed slightly
as if nodding with approval,
for our cabin by the lake,
was our private sacred jewel.
As we cuddled together
warmth filled our souls,
for our bright yellow shutters,
symbolized, our love's blossoming growth.
It was on this very dock,
air crisp, breeze light,
when he gave me a yellow rose;
and asked me to be his wife.
Copyright © Lynn Marie | Year Posted 2006
Riding an elephant
Down the narrow trail looking triumphant
Scanning the golden landscape
Like Hannibal with enemies in flight
Sight from a lofty height
King of the jungle moving
With lioness by his side
Climbing Mount Kilimanjaro
Guides by my side with packs on their backs
Some paths steep with rocks
Boots slipping below our tired feet
Beautiful birds in unison flight
Moving with terrestrial light
Stunning sunlight summit on the peak
Praying in an Ethiopian Church
Preserved in rocks built by humans’ hands
Never touched by conquest plans
Protected from the invaders’ footsteps
Queen of Sheba and Solomon’s nest
Touched by Arch of the Covenant
Mary, Joseph, and Jesus once slept
Eating yam, sipping palm wine, and tasting milk
Freshly squeezed by experienced hands
Taste of life in the mosaic grassland
Sustaining and soul refreshing
Cradle of humankind adorning
Invaded for its gold, riches, and human capacity
Birth of life on earth with tenacity
Respecting its living and arduous journey
Essence of life once was and is again to come
Riding a camel across the hot Sahara sand
Once wet now dried, exported gold from Mali…
Treasures from the hearts of once African empires
That which was, is, and shall forever be
Africa the birthing Motherland
We still love and respect thee!
Seventh Place Winner
"African's Pride" Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Adeleke Adeite
June 30, 2010
Copyright © Joseph Spence Sr | Year Posted 2010
The arms of the willow started to sway
and this curious glow rippled my way.
While flirting with my feet,
nature played a song so sweet.
The lake our dance floor 'til the sun's first ray.
Copyright © Kristin Carter | Year Posted 2005
Orchard’s earthy mossy trails
Gray-brown bark like dragon scales
Crooked branches stretch to hold
Tender almonds encased in fuzzy fold
Leafy clusters filter sun
And dapple grasses newly spun
Bathed in tepid valley air
Rich soil echoes memories long grown there
Perfect crisscrossing rows align
Green canopy woven into tapestry fine
Nurtured seasons; pollinating swarms
Bare branches clatter in winter storms
Pale pink blossoms; fragile drapes
Fluttering down like blushing snowflakes
Prolific bounty once again
From a living sanctuary:
My orchard realm
Copyright © Kelly McDonald | Year Posted 2006
Ending a hot day
On the back of a lizard
Crusty desert dust
Copyright © Joseph Spence Sr | Year Posted 2007
for the stars
ambassadors of a
Sequoia-The great ones..Inspired by Steinbeck's observation on growing up in CA
Copyright © Brian Strand | Year Posted 2009
We bound down the stairs, out into the light-of-day, and into the blue of the
misty breezes, heavily laden with the smell of wild sea salt roses that grow in
perfusion along the winding road, that bends and turns in gentle lifts and dips to
the other side of the bay, where it crosses the bridge and rises up and winds
away, over the hill.
Overhead the seagulls screech and glide over the ocean spray that washes on
the rocks on the lower banks behind our house along the Fundy Bay, where we
run like the wind through the fields of fresh cut hay and make our way to the
rocky mantle below .
There in the volcanic plateau, worn smooth as glass by the constant rolling
weight of the ocean, is our pool, known by all in our village, as ‘Lizza’s Bathtub’,
created by the eruption of the earth’s inner core, millennia’s ago.
We slip into the still, salty water that has been warmed beneath the blazing sun,
and float with the perry winkles and tiny crabs and listen to the sound of the
ocean, that roars beneath us as it leaves in the receding tide, while we drift
away, in our minds, my little brother the ‘King’ and I, the ‘Queen’ for a day on
the ‘Fundy Bay’.
Copyright © Elaine George | Year Posted 2006
WHERE THE BANKSIA’S BLOOM
My heart so yearns for the day’s way back when
your golden soil caressed my weary feet.
My mind is filled with treasures now and then
of the timeless land with its warm retreat.
Let time and distance take me back to where
the kookaburra’s sing and Banksia’s glow,
where the Aussies with their wit, show they care
with welcome calls; “G’day mate” and “ have a go”.
As the memories of the past unlocks
distant places to view your beauty’s might,
open spaces, grandeur of sculptured rocks,
the outback draws to its amazing sight.
As I seek to explore your beauty’s core,
most of all I long to see the Nullarbor.
11th March, 2017
For contest: Where I Want To Go
Sponsor: Nicola Byrne
Copyright © Teppo Gren | Year Posted 2017
My door is open
I welcome you
To my Highland lands
Off heathers and hue
Cross the bridge
Of centuries old
To my castle of grey
In it's regal fold
Stand with me
In the great hall of my past
Us Fraser's will last
Climb spiral stairs
To a turreted tower
Look out on my lands
As the northern lights shower
Turn to the left
Look out to the fields
They stretch for miles
Many harvests they yield
The moat leads off
Into a river so pure
With it's salmon ladder
Caught to mature
Lets take to the horses
To forests of pine
They carpet the glens
In greenery fine
Camp fire and cheer
Chasing the deer
The welcome we received
When we reached home
Venison and pheasant
From our Highland roam
Off the great hall
To the room of the past
Where tartans and paintings
My ancestral past
Open great fireplace
Lights up the room
Claymores and armour
In past battles bloom
The evening draws
Arrival of guests
To feast on the roam
For the food we are blessed
Bedtime retire for all
As i look out my window
In awe at it all
Copyright © James Fraser | Year Posted 2009
Some people are voices
On the edge of rocks
With steep slopes and cliffs.
Some people are echoes
At the bottom of walls
Carved by rushing waters.
Copyright © Leon Stacey | Year Posted 2007
Your glory touches
That stand tall to
Embrace your scarlet sky.
The quiet, broken by
The birds in song
As crimson clouds
Silently drift by.
The heat of summer
Warms the morning air.
Temperatures will soar
As you ascend;
A sequel to your
Fire rising high . . .
Breathless in the wind.
Copyright © Connie Marcum Wong | Year Posted 2010
below the boughs...
Copyright © Connie Marcum Wong | Year Posted 2013
I left my
of wonder and
awe. A place that
knows me better
than any other place
I’ve been. This place
has changed me and
molded me into the
person I am now.
The forests, trees, creeks,
and open skies instilled in
me a love for God’s works.
The harshness of the winters has
taught me to be patient and to endure. My small
town is where I learned the small-town work ethic;
you don’t get what you don’t earn and earning what
you want takes a little bit of sweat and tears. Here
I learned that you don’t have to be blood to be
family. Brothers and sisters are made throughout
years of school together. We relied on each other to
be happy. This place will forever hold my heart and
soul. I am a small town girl through and through.
It’s who I will always be. Forever. Thanks IDAHO
for shaping me into something more than I was.
Copyright © Samantha Farr | Year Posted 2013
We are known for our football, bratwurst, and beer,
Iridescent blue lakes with fresh waters, crystal clear,
Summer's sun blazes hot enough to make skin burn,
Cheese producing dairy farms are around every turn,
Our bright autumn leaves change their colors with ease,
Near spring, the scent of lilac floats upon the breeze,
Snowy winters, with temperatures below zero degrees,
In our green forests, raccoons and deer have a home,
Near the roadside, wildflowers grow wherever you roam.
Harley-Davidson was born, where the eagles fly free,
Wisconsin is as close to heaven, as home can be.
Kim Merryman's contest - "Tell Me About Where You're From"
Copyright © Kelly Deschler | Year Posted 2014
Sun glints off ripples
Play of light in sheltered cove
Backyard full of stars
Footsteps crack on frozen grass
Forested mountain side
Above twisting single track
Over arid land
Falling rain evaporates
Hot Aussie dunny
Sandy beach stretches
Tropical coral waters
Beneath St. Paul’s dome
Lies manicured garden
Copyright © scott thirtyseven | Year Posted 2014
Chilly late October;
early morning fog banks
the roadside, cloaks
a trickling bayou...
in the thickets of dense trees,
the wispy tufts
goldenrod, Queen Anne's lace,
dried-out thistle stalks...
A school bus, solitary,
yellow, slowly passes
on skinny black asphalt
where wet spots reflect
the newly risen sun.
Only rustles of high,
green cane fields and
intermittent bird songs
interrupt pervasive quiet...
Timelessness, and solace --
calming, soothing --
a Louisiana bayou:
Copyright © Leo Larry Amadore | Year Posted 2012
The sweetest sounds of burning trees
A gentle stroking in the breeze
The calm has lasted past the storm
Cloudy visions, Satan’s roar
Too many sights have passed my way
A time found only in the haze
The softest screams are running bare
My aching bones creak as I stare
You walk a distance towards me
The fall’s eternal, can’t you see?
I’m a memory in your heart
I whisper to you in the dark
The battle’s started at the end
No one is coming to repent
The sinners grab their wine from prey
No judgment calling here to stay
The sport is reckless to be told
The one is laughing at his souls
It falters nowhere to be sure
The power grows forevermore
Like a spirit in the wind
I have no say in where you’ve been
But cross the line to come to me
And pay the price for ecstasy
You walk a distance towards me
The fall’s eternal, can’t you see?
I’m a memory in your heart
I whisper to you in the dark.
Copyright © John Paluszek | Year Posted 2013
Here further down the hillside slope
Down close to the creek with hope
My husband bought a house, land
Fenced in and made many plans
Subdued the land to cow pasture
And planted a garden, fruit trees sure
Fathered another child to call him sir
The creek seemed to like the stir
Enjoyed the children for a little while___
Loved them so that it made her smile
Today she loves grandchildren the same
No girls there are in frills ___tame
The creek keeps on flowing to the sea
The land is mostly stripped of trees
(This is my adaptation of Robert Frost's poem "The Birthplace". I hope that it does not insult
Copyright © Sara Kendrick | Year Posted 2010
Contractual agreements with publisher caused DELETION
Copyright © JSLambert Mister ROBOTO | Year Posted 2011
I am the
The emblem of my
proud country it has
been our valiant
pride for so
The thistle has been the national emblem of Scotland
since the reign of Alexander III (1249 - 1286) and was
used on silver coins issued by James III in 1470.
According to the legend, an invading Norse army was
attempting to sneak up at night upon a Scots army
encampment. During this operation one barefoot Norseman
had the misfortune to step upon a Scots Thistle,
causing him to cry out in pain, thus alerting Scots
to the presence of the Norse invaders.
My entry into Deborah Guzzi's " Oh, what a Shape I'm in! " contest.
Not easy doing the above, i nearly went cross eyed.
Copyright © James Fraser | Year Posted 2009
We smile, it's raining
Jovial in dancing joy
Soaked to the skin
Warm hearth welcomes us
Naked to bare, towelling
Pillows, rugs, two lie
Face to face, lips now caress
We, attraction flows
Undulating shadows grace
Copyright © James Fraser | Year Posted 2014
yellow bus roars through
blood leaves assail the stop sign..
geese traffic honk south
Copyright © Gerard Keogh Jr. | Year Posted 2010
Summer scent is the smell of freedom
where we can escape the flavor of boredom
so we plan to have our vacation on the beach
where we can relax and fresh air is within our reach
The warm wind tenderly embraced my spirit
I felt excited on this first visit
on an island where refugees can find paradise
an island where spending time is wise
The dulcet breeze gently kisses lush green trees
and the mirthful sun smiles over the vast seas
Where surfers play with gigantic waves
and are not certain on what road it paves
The fluffy clouds are smoothly sailing
the birds are singing and harmoniously dancing
There are butterflies that are colorful in hue
like enchanted fairies changing colors from pink to blue
I need my sun block, it's time for swimming
the tables are full because later we're all eating
Ladies are smiling to many cool surfer dudes
Children are hungry seeing delicious exotic foods
I picked a shell that whispered peacefully in my ears
and we built castles that we fancied over the years
out of the small grains of white sands
and all you need is helping hands
God was really great in creating splendid wonders
that were loved by all especially the nature lovers
There are numerous oceans that are aquamarine
and abundant trees and grasses that are green
The brother sun was slowly hiding
because the sister moon was coming
I guess it was our time to pack
but there will come a time for us to go back
Go back to a place of leisure and freedom
where you'll not taste the flavor of boredom
It would be hard for us to say goodbye
because truly we will come back and say Hi!
Copyright © Nadine Fababier | Year Posted 2008
< Cascading lakes and streams
The loon stands out it seems
Minnesota's state bird
I know it must sound absurd
Adopted in nineteen sixty one
Wails and yodels heard under the sun
Black and white bearing red eyes
Wingspans five feet can make one cry
Body lengths up to three feet
Yet clumsy on lands and moss peat
They are high speed flyers
And great underwater divers
They can dive up to ninety feet
In pursuit of fish they want to eat
They are even on our license plates
An critical habitat drawn on metal slates
Twelve thousand of these unique birds
God that has to be a lot of turds
But for now I'll enjoy it's captured views
Of this beautiful loon and it's most colorful hues
Written By Katherine Stella
Entry For Mini - Blog Beautiful Bird Contest
By Constance ~ A Rambling Poet
Copyright © Katherine Stella | Year Posted 2010
gentle flakes drift down
to soften the valley floors
while lacing the trees
with the silent retelling
of ancient native legends
winding brooks of glass
shimmer as they meander
through meadows of gleaming frost
A crystalline bridal veil
adorns the cathedral cliffs
crafted by glacier giants,
surround this valley...
hovering, as if to guard
the peace in God's gift to earth
For Brian Strand's Contest: #223
Copyright © Carrie Richards | Year Posted 2008
Pass onto this thinking place
Pristine with luster and rhythmic textures
Bath in its heart-warming splendor
Here in this monolithic emerald patchwork
This relationship consoles your psyche
A pluck from here, a collection from there
A rack of tools and an now idle straw-hat
From the loam to dust that stick upon your shoes
A place to conceal with an atmosphere
Contiguous to the eyes embracing and rich
Time honored in its entirety
Carefully romanced by birds and creatures alike
I found you here in a home of comforts
Now your essence is complete
Behold the gardens of light and sound
As perfect as the gift given to man
A portrait flowering a secrete of love
Its scenery influences your center
Today and always
A thinking place
With a reflecting pool
Copyright © Laura Mckenzie | Year Posted 2010
The afternoon outlined. The sunny strokes
of a samurai blade on her body
revealing things the eyes feign see.
Tempted, wounded, the virgin parchment floats
between her skin and satin cloak.
Artist; afternoon, craving company
draws her inside-out so innocently,
on purpose leaves the yolk indwelling.
The painter in the corner moans,
he jealous of the afternoons artly
Improving skin, bare olive tones
of subtle pastel, the moment partly lost
to the constellations.
Copyright © Jim Marshal | Year Posted 2010
A beach captivating deprived eyes,
Fascination, grandiose haven in July,
Keeping lovely mountains nearby,
Of Pacific, quixotic, refulgent sunset/sunrise.
Tarry! Unwind! Vast waves eXtrudes Yuletide-like Zephyr.
Written: Aug. 16, 2012
This is a beautiful beach in Tamurong, Candon, I.S. It is located near my place or compound just a walking distance from my house. Its name was officially given by the people living in that area who are mostly relatives. The word "namagyan" means "relatives." Many visitors are going to this place and enjoy the nature, their moments and most especially the whole day of Sabado De Gloria (Black Saturday) and ecumenical services are held on this beautiful beach on the dawn/sunrise of Easter Sunday! It's a very fantastic place to visit! Come and see!
Copyright © Galeo DS | Year Posted 2012
Serene Mountain’s so inviting
With clad stone cold faces peeking
Blue mirror pools so exciting
Quivering patches touch my skin
Leaning against a moaning wind
Rapped in a rapture of heavens grin
Inspired by John freeman’s “A Nature Verse contest”
Copyright © Laura Mckenzie | Year Posted 2011
Clouds in a blue sky,
Crystal clear, peaceful waters;
Palm trees casting shade.
Copyright © Daniel Neal | Year Posted 2009