Best Dapples Poems
Sunlight falls in breezy dapples
across your lichened stone,
solace now I seek in chapel’s
old yard while we’re alone.
It brings my heart back, being here -
love; that I remember,
the autumn brings a tender tear
season of September.
Neath supple sways my prayerful praise
I offer you a hymn;
may dreams evergreen be always
blessed to soulful brim.
...church bells black -
they toll the hours
mourning time
since you’ve been gone.
Losing you
and laughter ours
wrong side of Heaven
I am on...
Green leaves that sigh like grieving silk
have not yet turned to red,
memories sweet as mother’s milk
will nurse through snows ahead.
It brings my heart back, being here -
love; that I remember,
the autumn brings a tender tear
season of September.
Ah, the fortitude of a circle
the circular wisdom
of spring to summer fall to winter
the spinning wheel’s twist of threads -
at once both self-reliant and reliant
my soul to embryo seed to seedling
the mettle it takes for the genesis;
for my poppy pod to wake and break
a tiny speck of matter a fleck of duality unleashed
I surrender my dormancy to the earth -
roots reach deep like pale squiggly fingers
..for my kernel was laid to rest to bustle to life..
while my headstrong head pushes up through the soil
I come to be.. like a new idea taking shape
a physical being grounded
while seeking the realm of the Sun
the source of spirit as essential
as the dark womb from which I emerge
with a heart budding with the universe from nothing
I sprout as a sprig from a rounded grain
conceived in a gold-dusted flurry of furry buzz..
a bumblebee's dalliance with the center of a whorl
a mote of pollen so mite-like -- but
m i g h t y
in purpose potential and power
woven together in the art of creation
wind-driven autumn rains and sips of melted snow
..mother’s milk during the passage of time..
sweetly feeds the gentle needs for my tender birth
daystar’s dabble-dance with shadows
charm the chill from the cradle of the garden floor -
warm ginger dapples flit to find me between
canopy gaps in swish and sway..
mini-spots mirroring the disk of the Sun reminds me;
the image of what I’ll become
when my solar heart shines in a petal-chalice of flame..
rapture stirs the layers of humus
penetrating my essence with a ripening
stoking my fortitude to fulfill my destiny
to break free of that which holds me down
and reach ever higher inspired by a promise;
the golden circle of solace.. the bull's-eye in the sky
whose glow does kiss and grow my soul -
my inner space of bright sure to blaze
in a blossom cup’s confinement
my soul to embryo seed to seedling
sown to assure my flowering
my earthy ascension fulfills Nature’s cycle of nativity;
above the loam I rise to unfurl
and lift my airy leaves’ uncurl up high
in praise of the light
as the end of a gray season curves
into the festive yellow equinox of resurgence
Spring dapples the prairie flatlands
with colors' majestic splendor.
And the landscape gets painted with
purple pigments and soft pastels.
Tepid Chinooks melt mountain snows
that feed meandering rivers.
Fueling lazy loops, snaking
across an emerald grassland.
Dawn, gilding the edge of darkness,
heralds the day's resurrection.
And a rising sun imbues light
with a sense of hope and magic.
A watermelon horizon
marks the birthplace of a new day.
And pink, cotton-candy clouds float
upon a sea of vermilion.
Reminiscent of paradise,
Nature's wildflowers are in bloom.
And their dew-kissed petals open,
basking under indigo skies.
I start my afternoon hike up a mountain trail.
October’s sunlight, the vestige of Indian Summer,
dapples my exposed skin with welcomed warmth.
Sun’s rays are gilded tendrils cutting through pines
whose needles’ sweet scent
I breathe deeply in.
I can almost taste the breeze as it rushes past,
waltzing through the many trees.
The sky, immersed in azure, is heavenly!
I imagine its clouds having been swirled by the wind
with which I wish I too were dancing.
Bright foliage surrounds me.
I am bedazzled by them as they ostensibly flaunt
hues of scarlet, rich amber honey, russet, and tangerine -
an ocean of windswept trees!
My destination is a pristine lake where new trees
shimmer - mirrored in its crystal blue.
One oak is so tall it seems like a steeple reaching upward.
Its limbs have formed an arbor which beautifies
the view that greets my eyes.
Acquiescing to enthrallment, I linger there
where tranquility’s quintessence abides,
inhaling October’s unique potpourri.
Dusk will soon swallow up the day,
so I begin my descent. Birds twitter; leaves whisper.
Seeing me, a timid rabbit scampers behind a bush.
Heaven seems fused with the terrain,
igniting my world with iridescence
as against a splash of persimmon, seagulls soar.
How I would love to glide home like those glorious birds.
Intoxicated by the rhapsody of colors,
I come to the bottom of the trail with just enough time
to reach my home’s comfort before night’s chill
envelops all.
Dec. 16, 2022
For Eve Roper's Still-Life Autumn Scene Poetry Contest
Initially, it appears
Jackson Pollock's interspatial painting
"Ocean - Tribute,"
overtly oversteps the boundaries of abstract art.
And the eye struggles
to validate its bewildering beauty,
hidden amongst the dribbled droplets of paint!
But then, seemingly spontaneously,
the blobs and dapples of color
intermingle in purpose.
And you see a kaleidoscope of shapes
and forms merge and disperse
into limitless shifting patterns;
as your imagination
gains access to the artist's dream.
Unique to the beholder:
interpretations tap into the imagination,
to abstractly convey cemetery and fluid motion
in the natural cadence of chaos.
Beyond beautiful; it's breathtaking!
On a sunny Spring day,
songbirds sing their sweet songs,
while the wildflowers bloom.
And pink apple blossoms,
release a sweet perfume.
On a sunny Spring day
Nature smells fresh and clean,
like a tropical breeze.
And green inks every scene,
even the tops of trees.
On a sunny Spring day,
dandelion seeds spread
ubiquitous flowers.
And yellow dapples lawns,
drenched by April showers.
On a sunny Spring day,
Robin redbreasts start to
build nests of straw and earth.
And all Nature's creatures
celebrate Spring's rebirth.
How humbly hover honey bees
betwixt and 'tween as flowers preen
in April's opalescent sheen
and petals palpitate in breeze.
Beside an arbor's graceful ease
of roses splayed in promenade
with poppies sprayed across the glade
how humbly hover honey bees.
While lilies lilt beneath the trees
the sunlight dapples daffodils
that pose in pots upon the sills
as petals palpitate in breeze.
How humbly hover honey bees,
purveyors of the pollen yield.
As petals palpitate in breeze
they fend the fragrant flower field.
8/24/19
As warm as the sun and as cold as ice,
Nature's the mother for whom the birds sing.
Strolling through the woods, I embrace Autumn's
sensually immersive sensations.
From a crackling carpet of fallen leaves
to the smell of rotting logs and fungi:
Nature's presence is all-encompassing.
And a chorus of skeletal branches
rattle, like bones, in the wake of each breeze.
Each season
Nature changes
Her looks,
using color
to express Herself.
Spring is green,
Summer
is khaki,
and Fall
dapples orange
and scarlet
highlights, on the trees.
While Winter wears powder
white,
with crystals of ice.
Steel Gray skies with threatening rain and restless wind
My breath gathers as mist on the inside of the window pane
...as I watched for the school bus
A slender birch tree with spiral scars
of flayed bark against its white skin
like curlicues of sharpened pencil shavings
Still clutching many bright yellow leaves,
Some collecting at its base like a discarded garment
Sunlight, just a small shaft flickers bright dapples on tiny dancers
Ocherous curtains against the bruised sky
Prodigious vibrant final act
Just for me
The tree manages a sly curtsey
in my direction,
Sacrificing more of her fragile costume
My beautiful rosy-cheeked child kicks playfully
through the saffron sea of discarded programs
“Here are some for you Mama” he says
as he bursts into the kitchen smelling of peanut butter and early fall
There he deposits a chubby handful of my regard
gently into my apron pocket
And into my heart's hiding place as well
Perfect poignant performance;
Beautifully done slender birch,
Most beautifully done
Dawn's light roused me from morning mist
Upon my breast, his amber pendant lies
Gently awakened when warmly kissed
as sunlight dapples across my sleepy eyes
Upon my breast, an amber pendant lies
I stand at my window in a whisp of a gown
as sunlight dapples across my sleepy eyes
I weep in fear that my heart may drown
I stand at my window in a whisp of a gown
feeling the sun's comfort in a loving embrace
I weep in fear that my heart may drown
Tears brush my cheeks as he touched my face
Feeling the sun's comfort in a loving embrace
Gently awakened when warmly kissed
Tears brush my cheeks as he touched my face
Dawn's light roused me from morning mist
^__________May 23rd, 2017___________^
Contest: Form P, sponsored by Broken Wings
The leaves of the fern
Begin the rhythm of the forest.
The music of the woodland floor
Pulsates to the rise of the sun.
The morning...mists dissipate in silent beats
Playing to every lead from the composer above.
Dapples of light pierce the canopy
Dancing atop the undergrowth’s skin.
Reflective light serenades...the complimentary
Colors of nature...as the day begins.
The cantata of Spring’s movement reverberates
The forest walls with echoes of wildlife sounds.
Nature’s mellifluous voice...graces the day.
Melodic tones of the chanting thicket,
Boundless in splendor...in harmonious hums.
Soft chirps...in a soothing ambience.
Elegant masses of birds lilt the air.
Amongst the sun and shadow,
An array of serenity dazzles the calm,
Displaying the beauty of nature.
The woven...movement shifts,
To the euphonious of a gentle rain,
As the acoustic waves chase the sun,
Dulcet tones begin to wind down,
As the fern plays its’ sonata of praise.
In its’ natural role in the forest.
The lush...fern bows with its coppery...red leaves,
As the curtain of night begins to close.
A standing ovation emerges at dusk
From the chattering...crickets...chirping applause.
OF MOTION and STILLNESS
The meer now seen in frantic action spate
The feathered life all bustling with a will
Intent on search for food or for a mate
Active throughout, no place for body still
The constant motions all across the lake
Speak clearly of a powerful intent
Survival that each specie seeks to make
By feed and breed and family extent
But down the river all is calm and cool
Through boughs sun dapples stream with gold motif
The pebbled bed now gleams with nature’s jewels
While on the bank - a motionless relief
In essence still and splendid stands the tree
Sublime and simple purpose thus: To Be
6 August 2020
I step beyond my front door, shoes brushing dew
And the air is crisp, familiar-something old, something new.
The sky unfolds in pale gold, the sparrows sing the same tune,
And I swear, I've wandered here before, beneath the waking moon.
Sunlight dapples over lawns just as it always does,
Neighbors wave, dogs bark, the world's gentle hum abuzz.
Every scent, each rustle, is a whisper from the past:
The rustling trees greet me-echoes that forever last.
My feet trace the sidewalk cracks, memory's soft parade,
I know the way the breeze feels, the shifting light and shade.
Deja vu in every heartbeat, in every glance I steal-
It seems, like yesterday, this day was wholly real.
Yet, as I wander outward, with wonder and with grace,
I find new meaning hidden in every time-worn place.
Perhaps I've lived this day before, or dreamed it in the night,
But outside, in the morning sun, the world feels just as right.
The Seasons of the Sun ©
angle of fall’s sun
so different from spring’s rays
dapples the sun porch
end of hot summer
the crisp, sharp tang of fall’s breath
smokes the air about
a waiting for sleep
under the blanket of snow
until spring sun beams
Trisha Sugarek
World of Haiku
Fall Opens the Door (Haiku)
morning sun dapples
trees in a polka-dot dress
shines soft green and light
chill hint of autumn
smells of summer, loam, and pause
visions of winter
sap returns from leaves
to store deep in the tree heart
yellow, red, orange, burnt
Trisha Sugarek from
The World of Haiku