Fullness in Emptiness 5-4-26
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Fullness in Emptiness
Emptiness clothed in humility
Hears the flowing invitation
Hollow space tires of frost's futility
A parched field begs for implantation.
Vines awake filling this empty space
As springtime dances through her arbors
Sweet grape clusters quivering, with grace,
Hear the earth's song in their snug harbor.
Roots nourished by warm rains understand
The vibrant language of the rich soil
A vineyard grows into the heart's land
Blessed by the summer's essential oil.
Soil and vine entwine in sweetest bliss
When autumn leaves their wine with a kiss.
She wrote of the fields she walked
the lakes she traversed
Her stick in one hand
her pen in her purse
Wherever none existed
she planted arbors
Revered by all, known by none
~ ‘til she was called back to harbor
Charity, whether given or received,
Harbors the ability to change lives.
Aiding a soul in need is not pity,
Rather, it is a show of empathy.
It’s not an obligation; but a gift
That’s given with compassion and kindness.
Yet, some still attach shame to this blessing.
Forever sacred the sweet breath of spring
Flowing in through the floral rose arbors
More fragrant on the breeze than anything,
Forever sacred the sweet breath of spring
Like notes the first May nightingale sings
Arousing for his mate all masculine ardors,
Forever sacred the sweet breath of spring
Flowing in through the floral rose arbors.
Written May 1, 2022
birds awaken morn
starlight fades in pink dawn rise
daffodils shiver
hummingbirds nectar
scented arbors tangle sunlight
spring glows with blossoms
3-23-2022
Bite Size Poem no.40 Poetry Contest
Calloused by the do-or-die hero's walk on the perilous road
Over hazard's hill stumbling in soldier's shoes of regret and sorrow
Merciless these wars of tired tyrants, this trailhead I have followed
I should bury these warrior's relics and take a train to tomorrow
Never looking back at my haggard patriot's duty, so torn apart
Go steady, stay strong with freed courage, as my heart's grief
Beats with the journeyed promise of going home unwary to relive
All of my memories there flooding to sing its lost and loving song
Catching 'God Speed' for my soul's simple sanctuary
Knowing these backroads lead to that certainty where I belong
Home
Over hazard's hill of regret and sorrow it waits in restful arbors
Marigolds and carnations embroider a calm and placid peace
Evermore scented in deep-rooted winds leading to my safe harbor
February 16, 2021
Coming Back Home Poetry Contest
Sponsored by John Hamilton
When clouds above dance to our song,
when stars are birthed from arbors strong,
we wish the days were extra long;
we sing our song, we sing our song.
Oh mother moon, smile down on us,
we raise voice in respectful trust,
to celebrate the twilight thus;
clouds swirl above, clouds swirl above.
The cotton balls dance a great reel,
swirling, twirling, first toe then heel,
they dance a jig and form a wheel;
it does appeal, it does appeal.
With golden tones, we sing along,
in this wide field, our mighty throngs,
serenading nature with bright song;
one thousand strong, one thousand strong!
On this street, they only grow roses,
Way down south, where summertime dozes,
By a mutually pleasing, neighborly pact,
The effect of which is a stunning impact!
The Street of Roses is famed for beauty!
For roses purple, gold, orange, and ruby.
For arbors, fountains, statues and green,
And more sweet scent than has ever been!
11/10/2019
limbs have been twisted
on blackened tongues of enmity
twigs of tormentia broken
settling deep into the arbors
where sun refuses to shine
disinigrated now,
left a crumpled brown
walked upon and crushed
still somehow remembering what once was
green - with life
vibrant and free
floating in an oceanic breeze
tantalizing the tease
with beauty
so so tenderly
but time has a way of ruining,
reminding, reprimanding
fated days gone ill
broken in disrepair
despair
lost
lost
lost
gone
the songbird serenades
gone
I float
in breathless transience
of heartbeats
as the moon's feral pupil peers
through keyholes
in the clouds
The Orpheus kiss
is a crap shoot
elevens showering sterling whispers
of soft Tiffany roses
from gentle arbors
or twelves
of black sky thundering
bastard answers
to unspoken prayers
I may toss
in subconscious unrest
but deep in pulsing ether
the pristine artery
to salvation sweetly beseeches
like an incandescent porthole
the siren lure of morning
from lips of nightmare
7/21/19
Abandoned, dry and brittle
Aged and neglected, still standing.
Timbers dry, even too whittle
Lost and non-commanding.
Here you could feel free as you can be
While early autumn hues grace the land.
Sounds from a lake you can see
The water lapping a shore of sand.
Not so distant Eagles fish
An Osprey tends its roost.
Softly a breeze flows as I wish
I resided, no need to nudge or boost.
Through broken windows
Tattered curtains hang.
Once belonged to a widow
Still, a wind chime rang.
I ponder the tales
And history within,
Roses blooming, arbors frail
I want to move in.
'O dreamy night
with wandering eyes
you could not lie to me;
deceive the drifts of snow
with crystal glitter...
Like tender downs in a midnite hour
Not a stirring soul but I in thy amphitheatre
this white night
where backyard chairs nestle snow-cakes
and the maple arbors
soft with wind shadows...
make my eyes wide with sleep
The sheep are calling in the stardust...
and from moonbeams
this muse must fade...
***I wrote this poem a few winters ago, but
I find it soothing to post this hot summer***
The grain on my hills,
Made into your bread while
Children grew thin in their homes.
The swine in my pens,
Roasted in your banquets until
Your corpulence matched your greed.
The grapes grown in my arbors
Fed to you by ambitions whores
Or drunk from my chalices.
The woman in my palace,
Desperate in her weaving, afraid
You would force your way upon her
The son on my speedy ship,
Driven away in guise so your
Claims could be written on scolls.
What was taken,
Will soon be once more
In my weathers hands.
Much like this bow
You could not string.
Grace had floated royal
among the sweet summered months,
and not a moment had passed
without the nectar of love;
Three feathered lords so fledgling
white-black,
sleeping white at noon,
'neath arbors brawn....
where the nestles are soft with love,
and dream to host all the world watching;
from horizon's scarlet painting pink
the billowed white hues ---
and black-purple from the Lord's smile
What crimson disguise five plumed hearts
beating as one,
return again o'er Swan Lake,
or with eternal love thy cherubin ponds;
with fountains swooning infinite grace
then they are gone.....
to privy their existence made,
sleeping black at night
('neath the gaze of tomorrow's moon)
the future brim with wind....
elder wings at dawn,
unto valor in evening's song,
fain to life again....
(flight of thy Royal Swan)
***Dedicated to the black swan and Queen's royal
swans of Ottawa***
Springtime sings
Springtime sings of wondrous things
Of warmer days and robin’s wings
Of daffodils and playground swings
Of sunny morning wanderings
Of fishing poles and wedding rings
Of family picnic gatherings
Of arbors blooming jasmine clings
Of sweetly scented offerings
Of firefly meanderings
Of stardust moonlit ponderings
Of all the happiness it brings
Yes springtime sings of wondrous things
Happy first day of spring 3/20/17
For the Spring Time poetry contest
Sponsored by Alexis Y.
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