Best Gathering(A) Poems
Gathering a plethora,
of abandoned blossoms high and low,
a covered basket and pockets full.
Light footsteps through shady trees
releasing dainty blooms for me,
nature’s soulful aliment like a
rainbow placed strategically
for a little girl's innocent eyes.
Blooms falling into my hands
on a wooded path for one,
then scattering to the wind,
a fanciful dance, free of
pending frailty; prancing
petals take flight
before their glory fades...
How can I preserve
God’s majestic beauty,
petals adorning a late
spring breeze? The newly
green earth and trees -
watch me, watch them.
I am but one girl
gathering blooms
to press between
pages of time or
seep into an intoxicating
potpourri. I could take
a snapshot of these
sacred scatterings but
never could a photo
fill my senses -
the sweet scents,
sounds and touch
of blooms on
a wooded path
and breezes all
around my face,
the sight of God’s
majestic beauty
in a magical place.
If I had one wish it would be, to share
these magical moments with you.
Dust hapless had settled rough
On vacuous land, tanned in taupe
Lonely and distressed
As it simmered for life
Its flowers had died
Only a few left in time
To settle calm and blossom elsewhere
Bearing remnants of an era gone by.
Trees cried until they died
Their seeds lay morose
Unable to steal
Elixir for their life
Their branches lay fallen
Gathering a fire
Their ache in crimson
Stalking deliriously in vain
As their embers crackling
Reveal their pain
Unto heavens mocking above
Unaware they had turned surdomute
More than a long while ago.
Along the tracks of Grandma's quaint backyard, her lavender perfume reminded me of my early teenhood,
digging the soil to thresh the roots as I buried seeds through its clayed womb.
In this late hour, my eyes feel her calm laughter, speaking to each blossom and naming every new bud after me:
Somehow, I sit on an old bench recalling how we tended ringlets of leaves...a pleasure which grew through seasons until it was my time to water more trees rising higher than I.
And fragile like shamrock, Grandma bowed low to greet new shoots while her fingers wrinkled and grew thin --hiding her unknown body pain.
Oh she owned the moon ; nature was her lavish throne.
Gathering a few truant stems, I hear her banter among vines... a melody so bouyant descending
from God knows where on the horizon:
I smile and sob in reverence at this panoram among the mist and weeds of duskfall.
A pond stretches its loop where ripples curl between my toes; and a festoon of red blooms huddle on its bent slope weaving through the rim of a hill...
The nimble tap of spring grazes my face as I wiggle my palms to relish this moment draped in pristine streams-- achingly alone-- bearing all
the glow of Grandma before an ensemble of birds whisks by.
Now as a midlifer, I trace back my teenhood with charmed fondness, knowing this secret garden is now mine to nourish and harness--
her spirit sashaying across the pampas
with abandon--
until then and until when, I cling to ' now.'
In the Australian vernacular
he was a ‘flea-bitten’ grey.
Not dappled like a dream horse
but speckled like a rock and not a
fine large horse like Tom Cable’s
roman-nosed, Major.
Dad had traded for him- with Tom -
two rolls of barbed wire and a fence strainer.
He came with a used saddle and bridle and
the high spirits of the seldom ridden.
Dad knew, that before he would let me mount him,
he had to take the 'curry' out of him -
rode him hard through a ploughed paddock.
Rode him until he stood in a foaming sweat
ears sideways, subdued.
I can’t forget being led, those first few rides
“Don’t let go of his head, Dad” I’m not ready yet,” Dad
and I knew the horse sensed the trembling in my being,
until one day, his bone- jarring trot, became a solved puzzle.
I felt a gathering- a sense of balance
between the pony’s mouth, the stirrups and the reins
and suddenly from a secret fulcrum
I was posting, “Let him go now, Dad,” I shouted,
A sweet transition to some rhythmic, magic floating
Around the homestead once and back I was cantering.
I pulled the reins, “Whoa boy!”
That first halt obeyed filled my head for days and days.
I am here for the pain
yes I am entertained
a public hanging my choice
living amongst rules I use my voice
the tongue is sharp as a finished blade
my one reason to make you afraid
pleasure is mine to spread all within a crowd
To hang , draw and quarter your soul allowed
gathering a crowd is easy to find
for many like I are here that threw you aside .
Used by all to see the sights
Centuries of power cutting through darkness
Hand in front of flame as you walk carefully
with candle light.
Strike a match lighting each wick
The cakes a glow celebration of another year
Make a wish and blow out candle light.
A tub of warmed water and cloth relieving the
day’s stresses, light switch to off room's a glow
from candle light.
A romantic moment dinner made with passion
Overcome with anticipation your guest arrives
The wine is poured dinner for two by candle light.
It’s festive times traditional songs we sing
House to house we go that eve with carol
Lyrics flickering from candle light.
At times of need and reflection found at the shrine
We kneel down in prayer with heavy thought and hart
Comes your offering through candle light.
A gathering a vigil a remembrance of one’s place
A single flame is lit, down the line it goes
As the crowd grows brighter showing unity and
compassion from all through candle light.
Celebrations mood grief and passion come to life
giving each moment deeper meaning
in the presence of candle light.
-KR-
As I look pitifully at the expression of the drowning man;
Picturing how he works his way,
Trying his capability; pleading Nature for his life back.
As the going gets helpless,
The drowning man makes scratches at the bank of the rushing brook;
Gathering a sum of clay tightly in his fist;
Death has his hands on him,
Moving alongside him, through the mindless brook;
Bearing him without mercy; stealing from humanity so helpless.
Enjoying an appealing repartee
Over scones and a cup of tea
Belching whilst cooking
Avoiding chronic particles from choking
Comradeship amongst landed gentry and friends
It all makes faultless sense
Avoiding topics that’s nonsensical
Keeping a lid on emotions and remaining sensible
Being sensuously sociable
Status eminent and unreachable
It is nonetheless within pulpit reach
Spattered with a seven year itch
A contentious immoral pair
Culminating in an indelible affair
Relationship commencing from spontaneity
Both relenting with reciprocity
Inappropriate association stifling me
Loathing of perversity for all to see
Probing the other with a stolen glance
Guard down devoid of a lance
Facilitating a rendezvous
Gathering a result of a woo
Deeper drawn into the abyss in vain
Inglorious fall from grace of the luscious moral fountain
One part of the source
Neither one being remorseful
Subsequently asked for divorce
The indignant feeling pitiful
Both caught in shameless tryst
In the presence of taut vice
The spilling of the sauce
There shall now be no more recourse
TALKING TO AN ELEPHANT IN A TREE
by
JOHN M. ARRIBAS
I was stunned this morning saw an elephant in a tree
Motioning, trumpeting, hey, please come talk with me
Tell me please, how in the world did you get up there ?
You sentenced me to this place since you don’t care
About the poor, disabled, aged and the mentally ill
As long as your coffers are to the brim filled
What are you doing sitting in a tree all alone ?
Observing the madness that mans greed has sown
So tell me, how long have you sat there all alone ?
Been in this tree, lets see, since man started to own
He started out, simply gathering a few pretty stones
Then others joined causing clashes and undertones
Accumulations of objects brought about some envy
Then suddenly another accumulator became an enemy
The possession of objects then became an addiction
To own n amass fortunes was the common ambition
You haven’t progressed much since those early days
Accumulating, not letting anything, escape your gaze
Initially you were crude, a quick strike to the head
Now more sophisticated: you lend money instead
The strong rule the weak, the smart run the show
It’s the same tunes and libretto where ever you go
Crescendoes will be reached then the bubble pops
Chaos will ensue, when the music stops
I see more and more elephants sitting in trees
Dominating the landscapes causing sages ill ease
Elephants becoming impatient, angry, sitting in trees
Malcontention has no remedy, with which to appease
I noticed each time I visit; the elephant gets bigger
His continued bloating will eventually trigger
A destructive insurrection against the status quo
Possessions, worthless, when there’s no place to go
Ready to plant glory
Royal pansies caught my view
Gathering a basket full
almost every day
before the sun’s first blinding ray
clouds are touched by warmest hues
displaying their splendid red-soled shoes
each a ship of cumulus shape
far and high their tops will scrape
grayness off the blue domed sky
heralded by a thousand birds dry
inching up the growing screen
jostling as they puff and preen
kissing heads of other domes
lovingly writing sky-based poems
moving all in unison now
nodding and bobbing with furrowed brow
opening a soft thunderous throat
passing over hill and valley’s moat
quickly gathering a soft grey weight
rain and wind inevitable fate
slowly moving across the land
together to make a final stand
up in the tops of the tallest heads
violet lightning neon glow spreads
wind now touches and bends the trees
x-rayed by white lightning sprees
you can almost see the insects flee
zooming over the earth with glee
He screams follow your dreams! Nightmares are dreams.
Awake in a cold sweat, try to forget;
The monsters gathering a head of steam.
He screams follow your dreams! Nightmares are dreams.
His mind awash with reams of scary schemes;
Dreaming of frightening images, yet
He screams follow your dreams! Nightmares are dreams.
Awake in a cold sweat, try to forget;
The monsters gathering a head of steam.
He screams follow your dreams! Nightmares are dreams.
His mind awash with reams of scary schemes;
Dreaming of frightening images, yet
Awake in a cold sweat, try to forget;
And give your nightmares no aid and abet.
Written 6/7/21
Welcome autumn with your beautiful
colors and cool breezes ...
How I love you !
And all those swirling and drifting burnt orange
red, and gold leaves tumbling down . . .
some tattered and torn
some perfect and deep veined.
Time to lay down your golden gowns, dear trees !
And I,
must begin gathering a collection
to press within pages of my many old books.
Oh delight,
to open a book on a cold winter day
and have a beautiful leaf
fall out . . .
____________________________
September 18, 2017
Poetry/Free Verse/Welcome Autumn
Copyright Protected, ID 17-9497-18-0
All Rights Reserved. Written Under Pseudonym
Written for the contest,Autumn Colors
sponsor, Nayda Ivette Negron
Second Place
Stormy clouds are traveling through your heart
And bitter grudges are ruining your happiness
Hate destroys and love builds everything which
Is beautiful. Get a grip on yourself while the midday sun
Shines on the neighboring hills and on the blue sea
Being angry, day and night, is bad and dangerous
Start by gathering a myriad of beautiful roses
For your life. Sometimes one must stop for breaks
You are the only person in the world who's perfect
What will you do, dear friend, on your last birthday?
Because you must weed and burn the grudges and excuses
You need more light; it's time to change the fuses
Humility is a divine gift. You must drown the grudges
That block you from living under the light of beautiful moons.
Copyright © November 2020, Hébert Logerie, All rights reserved
Hébert Logerie is the author of several books of poetry.
And who's to blame??? Riding supernovas trail across the celestial sky ~
Escaping the realities of which always fill these, my weary eyes....
Wishing to make a heart smile and or to brighten anothers spirit; inside
Bringing hope in a world cracked to be broken unto its cerements core
Wherein the majority of life truly do not live at all; not really!?
Painting with pastels dipped into fragrant oils amid these sanctums
Ointments, to cover the sores within this lingering mask of death....
Trapped aneath its box of misfit dreams; as lights continue to fade away
In a hand full of sand upon this shore; existence, slipping into the sea?!
Tainted; lives struggling everyday to grasp but another breath of fresh air
Gathering a morsel of food upon their empty and ofttimes, poisoned plates
To awake without a dream that none of them have ever seen; these....
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....“Supernova Skies” *