Best Dappling Poems
Springing free from glistening
Fronds
The summers heat leaps for
Height;
Whilst drifting obscurely far
Above
A distant lark now hangs in
Flight.
Floats down his sweet trill,
Accompanied by joyous and
Uplifting revelry,
Over the black crows nasal
Calls;
Whose draped shadow,
contemplating devilry,
Flaps and furtively falls
Into ripening bean fields
Planted in neatly sowed rows:
Nourished in darkest till,
Enriched by pedantic verse of
Gaelic odes.
Do now these gentle Slopes
Pause to yield
Where secretive song,
Bursting forth, is much concealed
inside the plain of Aidhne;
For here the great rock of the
Burren,
Whereby so implored upon,
Revealed its grey stones...
To rebuild ancient and deserted
Thoor Ballylee.
Sweeping briskly past a tors
Grassy island busy in bloom,
Eagerly cramming under four
Crouched arches,
Skim the borrowed waters of
Thee immortal Cloone;
Dappling currents
Dawdling around squat stanchions -
Staunchly carrying the quiet bridge
Over the old concourse:
Momentarily loitering -
Wantonly begging to coyly swoon...
Now, joyfully sporting in gushing
Discourse,
Gleefully courting elusive and
Glimmering enchantments:
Mirrored reflections enticed to
Enter -
To be forever trapped within a
Burbling rivers sacred rhyme and
Tune.
Higher and higher the spiraling
Stairs of de Burgo
When through airy woodland
Glades
The towering shadow sought;
And higher and higher the spirit
Of an ageing poet...
His crowding thoughts
Roaming freely amidst these
Fabled legends of Gort.
Harken then to the feathered
Herald -
Tis Gods design that calls on
Ye!
For few men know of what he
Sings...
He sings of the forgotten paths
Forever lost within Innisfree.
"A woodland path in the dappled sun, hushed and quiet "
~A Rambling Poet~
A canopy of trees
filters the sun for me,
and I am grateful...
For I do not feel like
having the rays glare
in my eyes today,
in a brooding mood I am.
The earth is damp,
drunken with dew,
seemingly commiserating
with me
I lay myself down,
jagged rocks beneath me
--cutting, rough--
and I welcome it
For it grounds me,
a reminder
that not everything
is sunlight and blooms
I sink in my darkness
and close my eyes
to dwell in it and drown,
just sighing
For an eternity,
I am mired with
muck and moss in my mind,
thoughts eroding
to nothingness
...until I open my eyes
to Wonderment
The trees above me
stand tall and proud
in their radial glory,
the sun just
breaking through,
shimmering, dappling
my cold being
Leaves gilt with light
blink back in awe
and I am floored,
blanketed by warmth
of hushed spirits
surrounding me
These trees
tell their tales
of growth and survival,
of yearning for
that light,
of their struggle
to catch a glimpse
of heaven...
of capturing
its light,
using it,
feeding off from it,
in order to
give back to others
some of them stumble
yet most of them
succeed
I am humbled.
I am awed.
Yes, the canopy
gave me shade,
temporary darkness
from the light,
I look up again
and realize
that the tiniest
pinholes of hope exist,
reaching deep within...
little sparks
that set off
a chain reaction
of life
--June 11-12 (2011)
Dawn gently woke the sun on this humid morn
He yawned with splayed fingers of tepid light
dappling brown cattails along the lake's edge
and golden wings of a dragonfly ready for flight
A tint of rich ochre glossed over the water
suddenly rippled by strokes of a bull frog
and a blue heron appeared for his breakfast
Quietly, I observed them through wisps of fog
Upon the calm lake at this birthing hour of day
Nature reveals the ambiance of her majesty
In pastel threads, tightly woven with her breath
she creates sunrise scenes like those of a tapestry
I wander within the flowers of my mind
following the paths blind footsteps find
amid the flowing scent of rise and fall
sweet mystery of nature’s siren call
for darkness shrouds the vision that I seek
as flowers paint in aromatic brush
upon love’s petaled winds as if to speak
of color that would cause the sun to blush.
Thus, do I sit in darkness bathed in light
tears of memory dappling silenced ponds
inspired by such color to take flight
lay claim to sightless vision without bonds.
To be at peace with darkness, let it be
and share with it a dream it cannot see.
John G. Lawless
©12/28/2021
My little Eden --
before the fall
a screened porch
in the shade of
an ancient
overarching
fig tree
small wonder
Adam and Eve
needed only one each
to hide their new
nakedness --
chicks in their spring nests
chirping away, feeling nurtured
and protected
oblivious to the serpent
apples not his only ripe
fooled by his appealing strutting
fruited limbs and tasty appearance,
Lucifer, the cat, a black joke of
mine, stirs in my lap only slightly --
he is asleep for full – while I, a rival
fig picker, finish my second cup of
coffee…
my Eden has a thousand garden poems
and their seasons, come and gone,
one would think both heaven and hell
satiated by now
the many morbid failures and bright
triumphs~ despite the thick foliage
I try to write of dappling sunlight, dabbing
word-glistens, here and there, on my crinkly old
face
unkempt growth bleached but yet hopeful
Mantle of summer, cloaked so bright
Where flowers pose lending their grace.
Along red vines as sun ignites
My carefree notes that twirl, retrace
The gleam of breezes dappling through
On painted strokes with finest hue.
How then can I resist
The gush of wildness’ flow
When come nightfall, hands lift
To reach flamed moon aglow,
Like vignette of night’s show...
And tasting summer’s blaze
Heated sighs I release,
As blossoms now amaze
With my notes that tease...
One more dance
While hips fling
Of sweet romance;
While through beats
I'm a dizzy
song!
Contest:Who am I? Or, What am I ?
Sponsor: SKAT
Dawn gently woke the sun on this summer morn
He yawned with splayed fingers of tepid light
dappling brown cattails along the river's bank
and gilded the wings of mosquito hawks in flight
December 17, 2021
Bite Size Poem #30 Contest
Sponsor: Line Gauthier
I sat upon a fallen tree
In the forest deep,
As I sat there watching,
Autumn fell about my feet.
Sunlight pierced the canopy,
And danced among the trees.
Dappling all, it fell on boughs
And lit the falling leaves.
A staccato burst rent the air,
The woodpecker plied his trade.
Then from on high, startled crows
Began their own tirade.
Sitting there in silence,
I heard the forest speak.
Such enchantment did I find,
From my woodland seat.
The light was now fading,
But I was loathe to leave.
For I had found contentment,
My idyll, amongst the trees.
A tad over three blocks down Merion Lane
on the left is, an idyllic Cape Cod.
I must've passed it a thousand times
my own picturesque, perfect, postcard place
couched in the right light, dappling rays
fresh-painted, white fence, ruby red front door.
Never once did I not try looking in,
a golden kickplate, bright brass knocker ring.
Begging to be seen, this family within
lotsa plain pane windows, no blinds, no sheers.
There it still stands proudly these many years.
In deep snows that had filled front walkways
in warming, romantic, radiated, lustrous light
hearth hues burst through the panes beyond the glass.
One spring, I saw a fine fetching lass run
across this closely manicured front lawn with her
bouncing blonde, long locks, glowing gleefully.
I mused as I passed by half-staring;
we'd marry maybe, wishful pairing!
And have a dreamy storybook Cape Cod too.
That fall, our family moved far away.
But was I not to see her, who's to say?
Still, I remember that house, that dream
I might've married her, my crazy scheme.
Last night it snowed. Drove that road again.
Five years later, that same house was still there.
On the outside, the front door now lime green.
Inside, a fire burns brilliant like before.
I saw this striking blonde while I gawked.
Startled, the green door opens, she walked
across the snowy street, without her coat.
Poised, she stood there and said straight to me,
"Aren't you the boy who used to stare?",
through my window I gush, "Why yes, I am."
She said she'd wondered about me,
even though they'd never known my name.
Star-crossed, my illusion had dreamt back!
Those private affections landed somehow:
illusions can come true, they often do.
Left my car, took her hand, then went inside;
over a cozy cocoa we chatted.
No longer a star from afar - so near.
New worlds would now open for us right here.
Lost love came home to the house down the road.
Written 2/19/21
adorning apricot
stardust silently
enveloped
turbulent waves,
gingerly dappling
each ingrained
bit of sea glass
whence the tides
were stilled,
'til they ebbed
'tween streams
of serene
spring waters,
rushing sky castles
outer banks in
cascades of
tranquil
awed hushes
overflowing
midst
surrendered
fantasies
Rolling hills and dappling willows
Magnolias bordering each side
A mountain range set the background
Beneath a luxuriant bright blue sky
With wisps and trails of tiny clouds
The bright sunlight it dazzles my eyes
The blades of grass between my toes
These sensations make me realise
That within our minds we can create landscapes
And masterpieces of wonder and awe
A dog runs past, a aquirrel scampers up a tree
Butterflies fluttering everywhere I can see
Bees pollinating wild flows
I feel the freedom of beauty as I flows through me
We are artists we are designers
We are lovers living imaginatively.
echo, love ...
au contraire ...
when I wanted to see you
I closed my eyes
when I longed for your whisper
I screamed at the moon
when I craved your taste
I starved myself like a madman
and shed my skin
when I could not touch you.
I have searched your blossoms
to find only thorns
I have traded ten angels
for a demon, reborn
I once walked among giants
in your tiniest shoes
and plucked your strings -
your heart's aching strings
with naught ... but blues.
your walls ...
I climbed them, formidable
only to leap, lost, to your darkened depths
I swam your passion
but was dashed to ruin on your reef of apathy
ago, I coursed your very dreams with wild wonder
only to wake ... a nightmare ...
unanswered questions blooming like tombstones
dappling meadows ... in war.
love, echo.
~ 1st Place ~ in the "Completely Your Choice (27) Any Theme, Any Form" Poetry Contest, Brian Strand, Judge & Sponsor.
“Pearl Diving” (Part 2)
Angel fish are pretty, but they’re boring that’s they’re lot
the Man O War is far too flashy, frivilous,
Octupi are too touchy feely always begging for the real thing way too early,
the Dolphins always laugh out loud, they’re overly boisterous show-offs
always trying to call the shots;
perhaps she’s best off lying in her Clamshell tight and small
for she is understanding now
the Clamshell has cast a spell o’er her
to stop all creatures in the deep from
hijacking her magic powers.
It’s comfortable and very warm, no need to leave her purse,
how could she leave what’s she’s only ever known behind;
better to sleep forever with the Clamshell as her nurse...
dream her dreams,
keep very still -
it couldn’t get much worse.
She’s shiny and she’s aged just right
the Clamshell protects her from the light,
she’s not a real jewel anymore
she’s a bottled up narcotic bright,
a little white pill zipped up in her hardened purse
to numb out all that sunken hurt.
He swims down to get a deeper look
the sunlight now dappling through the
hottest deepest lure of blue
thrashes his legs much harder now
to get the closest view.
He sees the sharks surrounding her
he checks his dorsal fin
he’s now become a predator
and she his treasure there within,
to somehow prize and shuck her
from her clammy milky mucous shell.
Such a beautiful sin he grinned and thought for a nano-second,
“Maybe I can win”.
Somewhere in the distance from the surface way up above,
he hears a mermaid call down to him, her silky voice enticing him,
her echolocation surrounding him,
through all those other fish making such a blasted bubbly din,
“It’s mine.” the voice whispers mysteriously in his ears, “ I’m playing this, it's mine, a life to win”.
(Lovejoy-Burton/ December 2017)
"Aqualung", Morcheeba
https://youtu.be/xxHL5szgThQ
Morning Camp
hushed morning sun
dappling through the wood smoke
wake up! smell the toast!
Sundown Camp
embers glowing hot
s'mores branches whittled sharp
oops! marshmallow flame!
11/17/13
Oh, in inspirations winter dreaming, I’ve dream't
Of a mystic valley of the Aurora Borealis,
A chambered realm of frozen colors,
Exploding within reflected light aglow,
In the hushed silence of ice and snow.
Here the pondering thoughts are set from beyond
Limitations of realities boundaries.
I'm a poet on a free fall dive, into the human imagination,
Behold my polarized world of enchantment.
Tender are the delicate wildflower petals,
Gleaming beneath the frozen sun, ice blossoms adornments,
Brilliantly shining in the fields of glitter, amongst
The snow dust's razzle-dazzle, beguiling the eyes of this poetic
Heart.
A Floral tapestry of permafrost, drips with a frothy moisture
Mist of sleet, creating a dappling effect upon the white
Dandelions and ivory daisies.
Taste the frozen honeysuckle upon your lips of warmth,
As the swarming frost bees pollinate this arctic garden,
Stinging with their chilling venom of flash freezing.
Palest crystallized roses, with thorny prongs sharpened edges,
Embraces the colds icy light, but reject the soft touch of
The mortal hands of loves devotion.
The haunting sounds of the Arctic owl echoes, against the
Walls of these alpine fiord's, as waterfalls of avalanches,
Crashes downwards, cascading into the deep valley basin below.
Swirling arctic foam blasts across this translucent terrain,
Shattering the magical splendor of stillness,
And splintering the tender reed unto nothingness,
Except for the spreading of germination's life giving
Seeds of renewal.
Yet it leaves refineries thin fluffy powder, scattered for
The crystal humming birds, it is their sweet nectar’s
Refreshment to feast upon, as the swift wings sparkle,
In the dusk's afternoons setting sun last rays.
Welcome to my symphony of Tiffany, gems stones sacred
Meadow of frozen jewels, radiating luster's regalia
Of glitz and glamour, leaving behind a twinkling celestial display,
That comes from a rich imagination of a poetic heart.