Splendour and grandeur!
Mountain crest, castle.
Uprisen but to unite
For awing purpose.
In himself secure.
And for a german
Striking with dauntless aspect.
Further down below!
For proud speck a vain shadow
Twixt each of those.
Stand there; whilst beg you not stay.
Apart from dangers
Heel to head do creep up on
Till as one quivers
For a mist-wrapped place, dear, tis
Where as fair attired
Nothing ever has a chance
To be so admired.
Between the mountains
And waters, the wary soul
Finds tranquility.
Summertimes sunshine, melts alpines snowline ~ waters ice cold, crystalline.
cascading torrents
tumbling atop limestone rocks ~
flowers awaken
Wild meadows emerge, sweet scents grace fresh air,
from alpine flowers, in bloom, everywhere.
Violet blue snowbells, to white edelweiss,
waterfalls rainbows, earths own paradise.
6 / 10 / 2023.
Sponsor Tania Kitchin.
Contest. A Monoku, Haiku and 4 lines of Rhyme - Same theme.
snow swiftly falling
anticipating ski run
exhilaration
Haiku
Fall or Winter
Poetry Contest
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Poetry Soup Syllable Counter
12/11/21
Alpine Park
Our children's laughing voices animated the alpine air.
The scene was a park chain-sawed out of a small forest.
We took them there for the swings--and a fanciful bear.
That was burnt summers ago when all of us were young.
One autumn noon when shadows are like thoughts--long
my wife and I resolved to revisit our family's alpine retreat.
Swings were gone, but 'Higher, Daddy!' echoed as a song
and so did 'I'm hungry, Mom, when will we eat?'
We breathed deeply, sighed sadly, mulling vanished years.
We asked anew if we did all we could to raise them right.
But the idyllic scene that encompassed us calmed our fears
and every nagging doubt was laid to rest that autumn night.
© 2017 poetryaa3 (All rights reserved)
I want to bottle this air just for you
I wish I could wrap it up and bring it back!
If I could hold my breath long enough this would be easier.
So I think you should just come with me next time
So I can kiss you
I wish you could feel this breeze
I wish you could come above the clouds!
If I had a fan just gentle enough then maybe I could show you.
Until then I think you should just come with me
So I can brush my fingers through your hair.
I wish you could see these flowers
I wish you could see these colours!
If I could show you the shades of your eyes maybe then you'd see
So next time I think you should just follow me
And we can smell the same flowers together
I wish you could feel these hands,
I wish you could feel these lips!
If I could place a kiss on your cheek and my hands on your hips
Maybe i wouldn't have to ask you to follow me
And we could smell the same flowers together
And roll around in the same grass
Forever.
Early morning seedlings
The thoughts of a new day
Sprout from my mind
And travel up your way
In northern Italy
By train, by plane, by mail,
By digital rails
My spirit to you sails
And my heart for you prevails
Completely unveiled
Forever in the gale
That ebbs and flows aloft
These alpine mountaintops
This mountain of tall firs and pines
overlooks a placid valley with a hut,
meadows of wild flowers intrigue.
Hikers go upward meeting clouds,
their adventure is kind of unique.
Bell-shaped trumpet gentians spout--
rain on the pretty flowers of the Alps.
No mountain in this region is gaudier
than the unfolding new discoveries...
boulders and cliffs with sparkling dew.
Alpinists adore mounts that are greener,
they snap lots of pictures, not a few;
below, sheep graze in open grasslands--
they shiver when the breeze gets colder.
Away from sunless and urban settings,
one feels free doing the extraordinary;
breathing an air not spoiled by smog.
Alpinists have lived here for many ages,
tending their herds watched by a dog.
The blinding sunrise ascends gleefully--
joy overwhelms the heart that dreams.
Calm valleys with wooden huts, amid mounts,
are prone to avalanches with a rapid force;
violent storms can deform the luscious green.
Locals are afraid, they pray holding hands;
strong faith may avert what could have been.
It's twilight, flowers droop looking morose;
brightness fades--an evening of sad sounds.
Our children’s laughing voices animated the alpine air.
The scene was a park carved from a forest for a clearing.
We took them there for the swings—and a fanciful bear.
'Twas burnt summers ago, when we were child-rearing.
One autumn noon when shadows are like thoughts—long
My wife and I resolved to revisit our family’s alpine retreat.
Swings were gone, but “Higher, Daddy!” echoed as a song
And so did “I’m hungry, Mom, when will it be time to eat?”
We breathed deeply, sighed sadly, mulling vanished years
And asking anew if we did all we could to raise them right.
But the idyllic scene that encompassed us calmed our fears
And every nagging doubt was laid to rest that autumn night.
Across the Swiss and Austrian Alps
brutal gusts steadly blow,
calling for heavy snowflakes
dancing as lost butterflies...
falling as summer's lonely stars.
Ginger bread smells good,
honey in tea is superb;
I inhale the steamy swirls that
jackrabbits love to smell.
Kaffe Klatsch is strong
lurching through their nostrils,
making them too hyper.
Northern Italy's wooden shacks
over the wide, frigid vallies...
point to a warmer South
quiet only at evening or night.
Roam as deer on snowy slopes,
stunning is the alpine scenery:
trees as tall as redwoods
ululate louder than hungry wolves...
vulnerable to snowdrifts' attacks.
Watch the skiers having fun,
xelophones making music,
yummy polenta being eaten...
zealous alpinists singing.
barren palisade
horned rams prance rocky redoubt
wolf pack scales rampart
Springing from the highest rocky crags
Tiny treasures, splendid little jewels
High in the drifting blue alpine mists
Strong ladies, survivors of winters cruel
Soft yellow, palest pink and vanilla cream
Tiny bits of heaven, glistening like tear drops
Thrown with abandon on the gray strata
A rainbow promise on the mountain tops
Sunrise mountain peak
Snow paint swirls on rock-strewn lake
Chilly Alpine Morn
Entry for Raul Moreno's Contest
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