Best Flittering Poems
Out where the blooming path comes to an end,
Along with wildflowers and Queen Anne's Lace,
A white sandy beach is waiting in the sunshine,
With a house so inviting at the day's primetime.
Seagulls are swooping and diving so endlessly,
Like the turquoise waves that come crashing in,
Before rushing back out to wild fathomless sea!
At the end of the beginning of gold midmorning,
It is noontime in the silent house of the sun.
Red butterflies are flittering on a soft breeze,
And the bees have begun their quest for honey.
Blooms yellow orange and red sit upon the porch,
As if somehow lit up, by the sun's flaming torch!
So beautiful the night with moonlight beams
Shining upon your face, smiles never cease.
If I could brush those lips: such futile dreams.
Kindly thoughts in my head flowed in like streams
Why could I not find some degree of peace?
So beautiful the night with moonlight beams
I fly above you, flittering in streams,
And for a while my waning sorrows cease.
If I could brush those lips: such futile dreams.
May I become a human, be extremes
My light body in fire with love increase.
So beautiful the night with moonlight beams
From afar echoes a stop of these themes.
Yet naught can stop thoughts of a shining piece.
If I could brush those lips: such futile dreams.
My mind must ponder love and so it seems
Must muse over those lips so deep cerise,
So beautiful the night with moonlight beams
If I could brush those lips: such futile dreams.
for what
it's worth!
Sweated out 6 May 2021
one fine day they changed places
fireflies lit daytime shadows
while butterflies splashed the night
a shrewd color scheme
bright hues and exotic moon
flittering and fluttering
pure rapture under the stars
midnight was dreaming
the firefly shadows twinkled
above the enraptured blooms
the fervent day seemed to pause
in search of the moon
~
Winter breathes in sepia tones along a lonely two lane street
divided amongst the sweeping frozen dunes
now forced into shouldered amnesty
Street lights shiver in snowcapped bonnets
while sidewalks sleep ‘neath blankets of flittering flakes
The air, frigidly crisp…moves of tiny chiffon sparkles dancing
Rooftops, plump and soft, show off their frosted padding
as evergreens find alabaster fingers tickling their branches
in chilled teasings and frozen dustings
Footprints, once there are gone, covered and recovered again
all evidence of life is erased beneath pearl clouded skies
and faint outlines of distant thoughts
White on black stripes drape in glacial wanderings
spanning the slush of asphalt weavings
in straight line piercings across the wintry landscape
January reigns brutal, subzero ponderings swirl
from high above the icebox wasteland, once brimming with color
now opaque in its arctic seasoned disguise…
~
Written from memory…no winter here. : )
I Smiled
lying under the hundred year oak
watching the vibrant android green leaves
sway in the soft southern summer breeze
daydreaming of the time we swayed
to the slow beats of the Caribbean quintet
I Smiled
looking at the Monarch butterfly
with it's beautiful white and black and orange wings
fluttering and flittering about in the colorful flower garden
all I can think about is the time I brought you those daisies
your eyes lit up like caramel colored candy floss
You smiled
that gorgeous killer smile
and it lit up my heart
butterflies were churning
a warm calm overtook me
it was then and there I knew
I knew you were the one for me
I'd never be here without you and
I Smiled
skies of rainbow blue as ocean moves
girl’s sassy swirls of soft tangled hair,
where pearls would dare clasp its curls
glow in her eyes special gentle blue
waves flow of tear drops buckets full
beautiful mud stain blush cheeks
Oh, such a handful only three feet high
arms full of endless hugs and pretty please
barefooted, dirty, and grass stain knees
while magpie explores the world never to say good-bye
double bubbles scents of lavender berries
pink and blue little ponies warm and cozy PJs
night promise dreams of fairies,
flowering ponds, bunnies, and butterflies
over and over stories whispers lullabies hums
sleep little angel in clouds full of stars
wishes of rainbow bridges to the moon
fairyland castles held by balloons
where little ponies play musical tunes
yesterday’s gardens today and tomorrow
fairies glimmer flittering amongst its blooms
enchanting flavors of snow cones,
bubblegum and cherry plums
unicorns, maidens, and gnomes chuckles
sleep till morning when you rise
to endless hugs and pretty please
explore the world never to say good-bye
2/2/2016
Cockle shell candles and firefly lights
padding the path to the woods
Grass crunched and scattered in weeds and in patterns
of the way every garden should look
Cobblestone herb baths and sleepy old stars
shooting the breeze in the dark
Waiting for someone to wish and discover
the cobblestone path in their heart
Night time is patient and fragile and ancient
with secrets just bursting to share
Turn up the jasmine and glow in the shadows
with eyes open wide to the moon
Luxuries lunar light swinging old stars
parading their final hurrah
Flittering fireflies brush up on moves as they
follow the trails of the heart
Pumpkin shaped lanterns delight the warm eye
orange and gold muted voice
Hanging from tree limbs bent down to oblige
and also to be understood
Fly on with sonar and pipe cleaner wings
soaring above all the lights
Lit up like secrets, hovering, weaving
simplicity's gifts of the night...
Forever falling
As fireflies dance
amidst evergreen wishes
Lighting the skies
between soft stolen kisses
Flittering free
like the stars above shining
Lost in a moonbeam
our heartbeats entwining
On the horizon
the heavens are glowing
Star dust and shimmers
as romance is flowing
Taking your hand while
the evening is calling
In love with you I am
forever falling
Nestled in hills of Pine Mountain, Georgia
Butterflies thrive at Callaway Gardens
Pavilion filled with cornucopia
Vibrant beauties are captured on the lens
Floral-filled setting surrounded by glass
An international mixture abounds
Each majestic beauty in its own class
Flittering, fluttering, flying around
Magnificent magenta and sapphire
Flaunting deep purples and vivid yellows
The Lord blessed each with stunning attire
And they seem to be such carefree fellows
Pavilion visitors stand in great awe
Marveling at creatures without a flaw
Alone in the hallway where time stands still
She serves out her sentence against free will
Brilliance shimmers under torn papal masks
Submitting to servitude and mundane tasks
She listens as the trapped butterfly pleas
Wishing to break out, waiting to be free
Pining to spread it's painted wings and fly
To float on light breezes 'cross bluish skies
To be the butterfly bouncing about
through beamish fields of daisies she sings out
Flittering and fluttering she is in love
Soaking up the rays from the sun up above
Break free from the mask, let your bright beauty shine
Stamp out life's fears, leave all your demons behind
Mountain laurel perfume wafted in the soft breeze.
Myriads of flittering birds sang in the trees.
At peace on our cabin porch with feet on the rail
Until a trumpet blast called me to hit the trail.
When at last would come my soldier’s release
To return to our laurels, birds, and peace?
With the martial trumpet silent once more,
All survivors returned to their home shore.
Would I limp stiff legged down the last mile,
To laurels, and birds, and your peaceful smile?
Alas, but a dream that came not to pass.
My future lay beneath the clover grass.
Wrapped in red, white, and blue came my release,
To scentless laurels, silent birds and wailing peace.
oak leaves flittering
goldfinches heard but not seen~
sunshine ricochet
12\30\2020
in the open air
cacophonous solitude ~
quiet containment
the pert butterflies
speckled and multicoloured ~
flittering about
2/16/2023
Spring Flower, Bird or Butterfly Haiku x 2
Sponsor: Tania Kitchin
Poetry is tangerine and other potent or poisonous colors.
It is the breath you feel at the nape of your neck and
the strong caress of flesh on flesh, defying death.
It is most certainly Spring with petal flutters and jays
flittering about. Melodies come alive…words almost too
ravishing to versify…like brilliant diamonds and crystal lines.
Poetry is rhyme and not…it is time well spent. The clock
doesn’t give a hoot. It’s cuckoo to stand on your head
to get just the right angle, the geometric high. Likewise,
the adjustment on a thin wire, with ink blots to examine.
But a poet does, again and again, pounding at raw meat,
to settle a matter…but we never settle…there is always
one thing more. Death, maturity, seasonals. Let’s dig
up that grave. First we jump in, holding onto leaves dyed
in various tinctures. Often we swing over, on our trapeze,
thinking we are invincible - we don’t see the six foot ravine.
Not feeling trapped at all, until the Ice Queen shows up.
We paint that buttercup white, as if it were virtuous.
She vividly holds up the scales to weigh our slights,
to slow us down…now,
we dribble upon the page…drivelling every nuance, as if
our kids (our words) were leaving home and we need to drill
just one more thing. Sadly our words will hang
and slowly scroll away…our scribbles fondly remembered
by a few for a while (and our smile)
Paint giraffes ouside the line, and gaffes - keep them in time.
Don’t be afraid to annunciate or not…to be literate or
alliterative…to be silly…oh do be silly…to be human…
to be common or uncommon…we all have our place.
We are the apostrophes, colons and periods. We stop
in mid-sentence a lot. We throw the hammer down
with an exclamation point or dot. We write run ons
or put out briefs. We admire awe. This is just a small
treatise of thought…a mud pie, but certainly not
a prize…but I say, the prize is in the beholder’s stall.
3/13/2023
"She loves me, she loves me not”
“She loves me, she loves me not”
Petal by small white petal I ask
of this delicate bloom I now hold in my hand
Yellow face peering up at me as if it wants to answer
in only a way that will make me happy
“She loves me, she loves me not”
But does it know the answer I seek,
for I do want her to love me, like she loves the flowers,
the ocean and sipping tea by twilight music
filling the tree lined silhouettes with melodies of enchantment
“She loves me, she loves me not”
Two more petals fall to the ground,
creating elongated oval patterns about my feet
like ivory snow flakes flittering in the sun
staring up at me with questions of their own
“She loves me, she loves me not”
Maybe I will whisper my desires,
allowing them to flow on the wind,
absorbed by nature, dispersed upon the beauty
in hopes this earthly decoration might understand
“She loves me, she loves me not”
As nature offers her wonders, she too brings them
In perfectly presented symmetrical fashion
for I see there are only four petals remaining,
the count stays even
“She loves me, she loves me not”
Oh poor flower, shedding petals like tears
do they flood your core as they do my heart
fear not my petite friend, for I stand in a field
of your brothers and sisters
“She loves me, she loves me not”
I shall pick another tender bloom
to follow my quest again,
though unlike nature, I have no rules to follow
and I shall begin this time with
“She loves me not, she loves me”