Best Bestrew Poems
...to Juvie
With airy tread your footfall makes no sound,
as crackl’d leaves bestrew the frozen ground.
The lightness of your voice floats on the breeze,
its delicacies set my soul at ease.
A white-flecked silence hovers o’er the croft
and echoes perish, silence settles soft.
Weightless and peripheral you flitter
‘twixt snowflakes, and the robin’s cheerful twitter.
The beauties of the world are ours to hold,
to cherish and to share as they unfold.
You pass, as gentle as a soft spring rain,
as I behold your beauty once again!
With airy tread your footfall makes no sound
though crackling leaves bestrew the frozen ground,
the lightness of your voice floats on the breeze,
its delicacy sets my soul at ease.
A white-flecked silence hovers o’er the croft
as echoes perish, snowfall settles soft.
Weightless and peripheral you flitter,
‘twixt flakes, and the robin’s cheerful twitter.
The treasures of the world are ours to hold,
to cherish and to share as they unfold.
You pass, as gentle as a soft spring rain,
and I enjoy your beauty once again!
With airy tread your footfall makes no sound,
as crackl’d leaves bestrew the frozen ground.
The lightness of your voice floats on the breeze,
its delicacies set my soul at ease.
A white-flecked silence hovers o’er the croft
and echoes perish, silence settles soft.
Weightless and peripheral you flitter
‘twixt snowflakes, and the robin’s cheerful twitter.
The beauties of the world are ours to hold,
to cherish and to share as they unfold.
You pass, as gentle as a soft spring rain,
as I behold your beauty once again!
When true love’s gone and doom hangs over head
When life runs like a river to the sea
Then shall I take new lovers to my bed?
And with their carnal touch consoled be?
When my love lies,so breaks my tender heart.
When life seems grey and rocks bestrew my path.
Then, shall I my life of evil start?
And on the world shall I bestow my wrath?
When true love lies and wrecks all loyalty.
When puzzlement makes all my world seem mad.
Then I shall upend causality
And let myself do deeds which make me glad.
For I have love’s sweet child inside my soul
And I shall tend her till at last she’s whole
When true love's gone and doom hangs over head
When life runs like a river to the sea
Then shall I take new lovers to my bed.
And with their carnal touch consoled be?
When true loves lie and break my woman's heart.
When life seems grey and rocks bestrew my path.
Then, shall I my life of evil start
And on the world shall I bestow my wrath?
When true loves lie and wreck all loyalty.
When puzzlement makes all the world seem mad.
Then I shall upend causality
And let myself do deeds which make me glad.
For I have love's sweet child inside my soul
And I shall tend her till at last she's whole
When winds of change draw winter nigh,
The guilded leaves of Autumn sigh.
With memories of summer days,
And springtime blossoms sweet bouquets.
This golden age each year bestows,
An earthly majesty that glows.
When shadows of the evening fade,
And moonlight bathes a forest glade.
With one last dance, leaves celebrate,
Then silently they lie in state.
Beneath the boughs, which did display,
Their changing colours day by day.
The rising sun now paints the scene,
Red, yellow, silver, gold and green.
Where myriad leaves bestrew the floor,
Enriching nature evermore.
9/ 6/ 2018.
Let the rain splash incessantly,
And wash away with its flow;
These pangs of sorrow that linger,
Resting upon my brow;
Let it splatter upon the furrowed skin,
And bestrew these lines of grief;
Drenched by the ceaseless bout of tears;
Flared, deepened chasms tho’ brief;
Let it flood the rivulet bellies,
And in their swell, shall sink the trunks;
Unto the level of beveled apices;
Therein swims the dense foliage,
Whereas the flowery beds flare their cleavage,
To gulp and slake a longing thirst;
Let it not surrender to the biffs of the gust,
Let it pour me a life full of lust,
Let it cleanse the haze over my eye,
And indulge me into dreaming;
Daydreaming - Once Again!
This may not seem so special
This I believe is true
But some things are left unspoken
Like crying, or loving you
My heart has yet to darken
As for now, I will make-do.
But before you know, we’ll have to mention
What it is that’s sad but true
Thinking of you brings me so much tension
As if my body cannot bestrew.
It thinks of you as a simple binion
Regardless of what you seek to ensue
It has an eager want to leaven
To hope and pray and maybe imbue
As I fight this strong temptation
My heart has much in beaucoup
My skin is softer than Egyptian cotton
My eyes are the color of the midnight dew
My abdomen is strongly lesion
My lips are waiting for the cue
And yet you see none of my construe
And despite all this, I long for the view
Of a deserted hilltop with memories of a vermin
That doesn’t realize that it takes two
But you know who I keep wanton
Through all the fog and dew
I would love that precipitation
To fall right down on you
But never for you to be too lonesome
For that is depressing for such a gorgeous milieu.
Graze by space, breathe of obsolesce
To reach ends; loose gasps espy
Down hazy firmaments crash poise
Bestrew thoughts asunder, sunk in levity
Dust fervid of the stars; it burns thee
Respite it sowed, deprave by night
Down the deep, quiet all I see
Clean of root and soot, shunned by the light
Free of respire, out with thine satire
Toy rust of age, fades a soiled visage
Prune this heart of mine, a heart ill with desire
Quelled with depths, trace mine shooting vestige
Mind illudes self, truth eludes mind
To the ends my soul travails, here my body end
With airy tread your footfall makes no sound
though crackling leaves bestrew the frozen ground,
the lightness of your voice floats on the breeze,
its delicacy sets my soul at ease.
A white-flecked silence hovers o’er the croft
as echoes perish, snowfall settles soft.
Weightless and peripheral you flitter,
‘twixt flakes, and the robin’s cheerful twitter.
The treasures of the world are ours to hold,
to cherish and to share as they unfold.
You pass, as gentle as a soft spring rain,
and I enjoy your beauty once again!
Ah... already the summer
approaches closing time,
but yours truly can squeeze
one more rhyme
before September first,
thus the following lines after...
Brainstorming, concentrating
panning... for poem
idea shattered brew
tilly by deafening seasonal
greensward cutting crew
contracted throughout summer to mow
leaves of grass
every Tuesday, which drew
attention toward fragrant aroma
seeping into nostrils
of me - match hew,
heavily negated true
quiescence courtesy ear splitting
soundcloud of driving
mowers even moo
ving bovines would
clap cloven hooves
over soft as lambs wool
sensitive hearing micro corkscrew
innards, viz their spade
shaped audiological
anatomical accouterments -
cow word lee lowing Jew
pitter Io sliver by jove whew
once silence returns
(after cessation rip snorting bedlam)
savoring the hum of nature anew,
and moost likely relish
fresh cut leaves of grass
as I inhale analogous
delectable waft of homebrew
albeit molecules borne aloft
after sharp heavy duty blades
of industrial riding mowers bestrew
higglety pigglety, helter skelter
juicy fruit chlorophyll rich
plants releasing nectar
sweet as honeydew
olfactory imbibing nostalgic view
of yesterday, when agrarian farmsteads
populated landscape picturesquely
anointing, exuding, messaging...
perfuming faint clue
intimating rural lifestyle forebears
hapt tubby privy too,
where deer and antelope played
unaccosted by impending urbanization,
hence such idyllic serene rue
man nation - visage you
would probably concur
as most divine comity
worth more than any buckeroo
could purchase - vestiges vanishing
without a trace adieu
mother nature nowhere found
except caged up within human zoo.
With airy tread your footfall makes no sound
though crackling leaves bestrew the frozen ground,
the lightness of your voice floats on the breeze,
its delicacy sets my soul at ease.
A white-flecked silence hovers o’er the croft
as echoes perish, snowfall settles soft.
Weightless and peripheral you flitter,
‘twixt flakes, and the robin’s cheerful twitter.
The treasures of the world are ours to hold,
to cherish and to share as they unfold.
You pass, as gentle as a soft spring rain,
and I enjoy your beauty once again!
Brainstorming, concentrating
panning... for poem
idea shattered brew
tilly by deafening seasonal
greensward cutting crew
contracted throughout summer to mow
leaves of grass
every Tuesday, which drew
attention toward fragrant aroma
seeping into nostrils
of me - match hew,
heavily negated true
quiescence courtesy ear splitting
soundcloud of driving
mowers even moo
ving bovines would
clap cloven hooves
over soft as lambs wool
sensitive hearing micro corkscrew
innards, viz their spade
shaped audiological
anatomical accouterments -
cow word lee lowing Jew
pitter Io sliver by jove whew
once silence returns
(after cessation rip snorting bedlam)
savoring the hum of nature anew,
and moost likely relish
fresh cut leaves of grass
as I inhale analogous
delectable waft of homebrew
albeit molecules borne aloft
after sharp heavy duty blades
of industrial riding mowers bestrew
higglety pigglety, helter skelter
juicy fruit chlorophyll rich
plants releasing nectar
sweet as honeydew
olfactory imbibing nostalgic view
of yesterday, when agrarian farmsteads
populated landscape picturesquely
anointing, exuding, messaging...
perfuming faint clue
intimating rural lifestyle forebears
hapt tubby privy too,
where deer and antelope played
unaccosted by impending urbanization,
hence such idyllic serene rue
man nation - visage you
would probably concur
as most divine comity
worth more than any buckeroo
could purchase - vestiges vanishing
without a trace adieu
mother nature nowhere found
except caged up within zoo.
With airy tread your footfall makes no sound,
as crackl’d leaves bestrew the frozen ground.
The lightness of your voice floats on the breeze,
its delicacies set my soul at ease.
A white-flecked silence hovers o’er the croft
and echoes perish, silence settles soft.
Weightless and peripheral you flitter
‘twixt snowflakes, and the robin’s cheerful twitter.
The beauties of the world are ours to hold,
to cherish and to share as they unfold.
You pass, as gentle as a soft spring rain,
as I behold your beauty once again!
He dances on the shore,
white shirt in hand,
and waves and waves.
The gold," he cries,
"I.ve found the gold
and ruby stones of deepest dye."
Heedless, the cross-masts
sink from sight.
Salt-water laps the shore.
Tears trickle down his cheeks,
for now he knows the reason why
white bones bestrew the golden strand
And vultures squat
so patiently upon
yonder head of bald-bare rock.