Best Greyness Poems

Come to me my child
Rest your head in my lap
My hand strokes your wild curls
Feeling the dampness on your neck
Lamplight caresses your flushed cheeks
Shadows waltzing...

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Lost in a wistful arbor, where malaise blooms,
Mists flower in hypnotic bleak violet dusks
Shades of brooding melancholy  
Bruise my treasured bouquets of dreams
And plod...

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Wildflowers

Your words scream out the relative cynicism
Of an age that doesn’t believe
	In anything –
		Not God nor Goodwill
		Nor possibility:
You label me a Pollyanna,
		Mary Sunshine,
		And a fool
For...

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The promiscuous length of daylight
in the month of June,
spawned from a sunrise that 
allocated a childish franchise.
The moorland breeze; that, to
rely upon when indulgence in...

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this place of living
where foliage and grass grow...
i talk to headstones
as the breeze whispers to trees
and the greyness of clouds part

written 2/2/2023
For writing challenge
'C' word...

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winter wellspring

greyness dyes white clouds
 brittle gales howl ice and pant ~
  still meadows shiver

sequoia trees thirst
 fog mists bathe redwood giants ~
 ...

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I have a grey shirt, grey short pants and grey socks.
The grey school with its grey toilet blocks and grey nuns
made my mother buy them,
which...

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Cardinal and the Rose

As greyness dyes white clouds 
When icy fingers rattle wind chimes of icicles
A shiver rustles still meadows of frost bouquets;
Through brittle gales...

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You look sideways at me
I look straight on at you
You glance towards me
I stare at you
memorize the stiches of your coat
they are uneven
 it must...

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I take no shelter from the force
barely do I prepare for changeable weather
I'll withstand these winds
the North Wind is predictable in it's whimsy

I'm as solid...

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Amber-brown sea oats stand tall -
whistling as ocean breezes gently 
blow them in unchartered directions
Voluminous waves impact into jetty rocks
inducing sea urchins to lose their...

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Windless, the somber winter shore is welded
imperceptibly to the ashen water, the
horizon hemmed by distant dams of fog. 

Advance, advance.

Gloveless, the chalky hands stand out...

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It is February and the air still stings,
But stirrings of spring can be found.
Atop a telephone pole a bird sings,
And little things move in the...

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Flint 
Within its brilliance gleaming
Cool black in lacquered polished silver chrome
Cranked up pistons bleached in summer’s heat
Hot steam rising as gears thundering
Beyond the crystal liquid...

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From earth’s deep bowels when flames spit forth
and thunder shakes the ground
a seething mass of melted rock
is strewn for miles around.

When red grows dark and...

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