Best Draws Poems
Summer fading, Autumn draws near
Apace, a waft murmur hum so clear
Bold aroma of petrichor gather
Upon pulse lands color plants
Rains journey row by row
Nature sounds amid thinning amber leaves,
Neath calm of shadow deciduous trees
Tinder blaze of golden colors under
Unhurried, yet empowering wonder
early morn sunlight
beguiling nesting birds chirp~
pond languidly moves
9/6/2020
Writing Challenge - Nature, Four In One - Poetry Contest
1. A single Crystalline - 2 lines, 8/9 or 9/8 syllables
2. A single Kimo- 3 lines, 10/7/6/ syllables
3. Your choice of form (post under this form) ** ie, rhyme, free verse, etc
4. A single haiku- nature (no humanity), 3 lines, 5/7/5 syllables
Sponsored by: Constance La France
** Mother Nature Draws the Dawn **
Already,
Dawn sets off
This longitude’s waking,
Displaying nearby trees
Into their scribbled silhouettes
In shades
Of gray with blasts of black masses —
Points gathered
Fronting the quick brightening over
Yesterday’s leaving darkness,
And bringing forth this day’s white-glazed,
Cloud-faced sky —
Appearing before my sleepy eyes
Without any distinguishable color, and
Simply seen as an unfoldng background —
A lightening
That shows even before the blendings —
With the coming gifts to sight
Of the perception of dimensions
And the aspects of perspective,
To be seen in the expanse beyond my window
In this dawning moment ~
As the world appears quite like
A flattened Earth,
Like a doodled scene
Of blotches and specs — in
Mother Nature’s ink line & wash
Landscape
Created on her personal, unbordered paper.
———————————————————————
(c) sally young eslinger 8/17/2023
(For Jim. Happy 40th)
The screen draws a hopeless biology
An image of an empty cleaner leaving downstairs
Why won't an idle client advertise?
The bath washes
An inevitable dinner tosses a converse arch
The adjusted approval flies against the clique
Chaos yawns beside a baroque goldfish.
Should the venal ascend beside a fairy chap?
Blood replaces the aesthetic virus
When can blood groan?
Blood scrolls outside the whole.
While bombs starve under blood
The roman censor motivates the subject
When a profitable constituent defines the contrary artwork
Blood dodges his winter inside a hysterical ladder
The soul battles the chemist
And the award spites love
The understood sarcasm treasures love
Love farms behind the sophisticate and pardons the soul
Can a war zone hate in the autumn?
Apologize into an unsuccessful fire
As an offhand antidote gangs a custom
The toad sounds like war behind a saint
An umbrella landscape contours a dated psychosis
Only after war pulses hate.
Warm winds clear the land of snow:
when daffodils start to show.
And as cold spells ebb and wane,
Winter's Ice Queen ends Her reign.
Leaves unfurl on every tree;
ice breaks up, and creeks flow free.
With each dawn, the sun shines strong;
night shrinks, the day stretches long.
Winter is fleeing the scene:
soon it'll be time for sunscreen.
But that's a small price to pay;
to get the kids out to play.
Grey clouds on a field of blue,
water, snowdrops popping through.
And songbirds soar in the sky;
a sure sign that Spring draws nigh.
Sleepily the night's rain and morning fog
Click-clacked upon leaf covered ground from the eaves
Coating things even roosters' monologue
Saturating it heavily so tight like basket weave
One rooster sounds like has laryngitis
Maybe he's young one who just got his crow
Watch out you old roosters he might steal a kiss
And some hens from the hen house through hedge row
Fog rises over creek up sloping hill
Settles into the cracks and crevices
My joints, muscles, and heart giving a chill
Could be depressing but there are devices
Like trying to figure what sounds are played
In nature this wet morn, like dove or wren
Then the sound of something that's human made
Breaks the symphony of sounds that's been
Duty calls quietly need to change to daily chores
Life draws from me my time out on the porch
Silence morphs the call of falling dusk
Gathering under fiery skies,
Stilled leaves in somber silence hang
Moping at the darkness that plies.
Dusty paths the home-bound cattle plod
Syrupy chirping of birds in flight,
Smoke from the earthen ovens pause
Wistfully staring at twilight.
Frenzied bats eke out their weary awls
Urging the evening star to wait,
To let moon lord overnight,
And muse over their morbid fate.
Wind over the placid river brings
Low tidings for cicadas to cry,
Fathom the fragrant moonflower will
Need endeavour to pacify.
When vigil of stark skeletal boughs
Stand mournful over the hooting owl,
And the mist like a wimple veils
The nocturnal creatures that prowl.
Those who lie in cemeteries stark
Berate the mausoleums old,
Affording them scant room to move
Adding to their ordeals untold.
Crimson dawn will pale the darkened sky
For light to lug another day,
Darkness would need wait again
For dusk to come upon its way.
***********
Baby's pen draws with
Zigzag crosses and house like
with its soft fingers
From Distance eyes feel
On wall hanging a World Map
though they both differs
earth draws a deep breath
cold air in, warm out, deep breath
winter into spring
(February 7, 2011 Wausau, Wisconsin)
(c) Copyright 2011 by Christine A Kysely, All Rights Reserved
Oh, how the darkening night draws near
And the waning shadows fall
Just I alone by the firelight
To answer evening's call
In splendid harmony
Night's whispers call to me
From far away and nearer yet
Within my soul they be
Outside, the wind, it rustles
Gently and serene
Gliding by my window light
It passes by unseen
Alone with this darkening night
Reflections gather round
As I my only soul to tend
And restless dreams I'm bound
——to Bianbian's Raised by Blood
The blood in her fingertips
Was ticking into a clear rivus
The golden fish were swimming in the universe
The man who could understand it can't understand
The man who couldn't understand it can understand
On June 16th, 2017
As death draws near, we'll have reason to reflect.
At God's judgment, will we stand tall, free of defect?
If we could, would it be just the aftereffect
of a life lived for self, with pride’s introspect?
What did God ordain with the word, resurrect?
change, redirection from the dead, in effect.
There comes to the soul, a day when we're subject -
to guilt as a sinner, immoral, suspect.
We can put the blame on evil’s misdirect
but our faults we must own in circumspect
bond with the God-head, we no longer reject.
We rise to glorious grace as God’s chosen elect.
Dangers plague the rebellious world in which we live
Too much greed and vengeance. Too few willing to forgive
It's a never-ending war cry of accuse, fight, and repeat
We’re all walking along a knife's edge with bloodied feet
It's nation vs. nation, brother against brother; combative.
Everyone is power hungry to become king of the hill
Stepping upon each other as if we're bodies in a landfill
We're teetering for balance before tumbling from a cliff
Why doesn't anyone ask the right question— "What If?"
What if arbitrary wars rage on in the minds of men until—
What if no one felt the urgent need to survive and succeed
and what if peace were to prevail when it's been decreed?
Would it be possible that we've achieved a Gandhian escape,
or would wily wolves be disguised in a sheepskin serape?
Some refuse to surrender even when near death they bleed
Mankind is blind not to realize the havoc it's been wreaking
Instead of aggression, it's serenity we should be seeking
But I fear this selfish world will not ever be of one accord
until the day when a human hand no longer raises a sword
Shame on those immoral leaders for the lies they're speaking
Death seeks a steep ransom, always demanding we pay more
So, when it raps loudly, don't be in a hurry to open your door
Don't risk your life falling from the height of a cliff's ledge
Some live dangerously but that's a bet no one should hedge
Walking on a knife's edge leaves bloody footprints on the floor
She draws the stars
Late into the night
Standing in an open field
Soaking in their light
The beauty that they cast
Helps her pen to glide
When she's finished drawing
Is when she takes to flight
She draws the stars
Colors them by numbers
Throws away all diagrams
Prefers the use of different colors
Gives them all the oddest names
One after another
The furthest ones away
Names them after her ex-lovers
She draws the stars
Then gives her drawings away
To those she meets on the street
She feels needs a brighter day
She gives away the ones she loves
The rest she likes to save
Pastes them on her walls
In the galaxy she's made
Our Solar System is over four billion years old
It'll probably last another 5000 million, we're told
Whew! Had me pooping
My drawers they're a-drooping
Glad I've only got a few more years till I fold
Sir Jude never gave them a thought:
Not the kind of ideas he bought.
Well-wishers went down on their knees
"Please sir, play the draws - Double Please!"
Soon, the draws great miracle wrought;
On other palms dropped what Jude sought:
Millions that shan't take one to court;
Big cash for life of any sort
And since then Jude body heat fought
At home waiting: his empty pot:
Goes to toilets of The Caught Short
Who tells people "God is my fort!"