Best Landscape Poems
When I close my eyes I hear the sound of your voice floating in the
air like dandelion fur, catching the breeze and dancing upward.
I remember the day when we camped in the rain and wrapped
ourselves in blankets to keep warm, hearing the acorn size
drops pelting the tent and feeling the rain vibrations explore
our coupled bodies.
How could I have known then what I know now …. the ancient
wisdom that you have carried with you since the beginning of time.
You speak to me …
Your words rise up in my soul
filling my being. I feel you gently
cupping my heart in your hands,
caressing it tenderly. Lifting your
arms above your head I feel the
warmth of the sunlight on my
heart. With eyes closed I bask in
the moment.
I am transported to flight as a white hawk
stretching my arms out into my new wings and alighting
on the warm current that lifts me higher.
I am surrounded ……
It is quiet as I glide. Looking downward
I dip one wing and then another. I let
myself be enveloped, conscious of the wind
on my feathers. I am free. Free to fly. Free
to take in all that surrounds me, all that is above me,
below me, the scents, the sounds, the silence, the
memories of past, and the vision of the future.
I am one with you.
Below winding rivers and streams make S shapes
and figure 8’s, dancing, curving and rolling
with winking glitter on their surfaces.
Dry red rocks dot their shores and a heat ….
A heat rushes by.
Onward, upward past towering pines reaching to
the sky whose tips call me with their green beauty.
They call. They sing. I hear their ancient voices, as
their seeds fall silently on the ground.
Leaning into a turn I dip one wing and
see water before me falling in the distance.
I am being called… beckoned onward.
There are answers ahead.
The mist clings to my feathers and
moisture coats me as I fly closer. The
water is my soul, my heart, my life.
Whiteness and sound thunder around
me and yet a peace resides within.
I am home.
Just as the moon
rises each night
and even as snow
is caressed by its light,
then glowing, I'll rise,
becoming your dawn,
your curved sleeping form
to smile upon.
With eyes like bright stars,
I then will embrace
the landscape of you,
each small line on your face.
And surely you’ll mirror
my worshiping glow,
for I am your moon
and you are my snow.
I’ll keep shining down
with each breath you take.
May I blaze in your dreams
before you awake.
And barely I’ll whisper,
“Keep sleeping, my dear.”
Your faithful beloved,
I’ll always be here.
9/14/2010 it was posted here but I believe it was written several years earlier.
I don't know when. Maybe before 2005! An OLD poem!!
For the "Your Favorite Old Poem Contest" of shadow Hamilton
How I love the sky, the sea and land.
Today I paint myself into a scene
of visual delight; though I'm on sand,
I dip my brush first into vivid green.
Tall trees are in my view far left and right.
I paint the path made out of stones that led
me to this beach which now is my escape!
I paint the sand, then dip into some red!
I'm all alone in my red bikini.
I like the fact that it’s in contrast to
the white of sand and forest’s verdancy.
But, oh, the backdrop is amazing blue!
My picture’s top half is the sea. Beyond
its tranquil surface, now my eyes are drawn
to hues of brightness of which I am fond
as twilight’s sky I am adding on.
Some tangerine with crimson I have swirled
onto the canvas, and the red’s the same
as my bikini! Finally, this world
I've been painting I inscribe with my name!
10/21/17
After the funeral,
the town changed its street maps,
old houses were relocated. new shops opened
in long emptied malls.
They had never shared their likes or interests,
they had not even shared an equitable life;
now she understood the changing landscape.
Before his death, the town was seen
through his own lens only;
he was ever determined
to shape her view, make her see things his way.
After this post-mortem revelation,
She recalibrated her car’s GPS:
It takes her now
to the as yet
unseen.
Cityscape
The artist’s hand reshapes yesterday
In straight lines
Of hard edges -
Peaks of
Right angles perfected
Missing oblique or obtuse –
Claiming the horizon
In full frontal
Silhouette
Cut from ebony shades,
When daylight sinks into the shadows
And twilight goes down meeting midnight
One dimension pyramids,
Floors layered by steel reinforced
Triangulated honeycombs,
Octagonal rounds
Gather cotton clouds
Topping off their naked crowns,
Lofty spires
Scrape the midnight
To gather far flung stars
Flat rectangles with jute box tops
Soar with arches -
Lines leaping up and sliding down -
Squares low and squat,
Took up their space,
Yanked from the line,
Openings left
Like toothless
Grinning;
Concealed within the cityscape unblinking
The murmurings of urban sighs,
No rise and fall of breathing,
Foundation’s feet bound in stone
Swaying only when magnum cores
Tremble moving plates east to west, north to south;
Unseen
The doorway cradle songs
Of shivering dreams,
Desperation
Pacing
On the nineteenth floor
Fauna’s night perfume
Floating up behind dark floral gates
Of swirling iron
Grids of neighbors – blocks of neighborhoods -
Graphs of boulevards winding round,
Absent from the cityscape.
Inspirational verse – “When the lights go down in the city and the sun shines on the bay; do I want to be there in my city….I want to be there in my city.” Journey
Caressing the mind
And kissing
Glossy, smooth stones
Liquid rippling
Flowing over the bed
Hues of taupe
Sand and charcoal
With hints of lavender
Coloring the emotions
Wistful, willful, warm
Like the flavor
Of a rising storm
Resting on the sand
Brilliant like the sunshine
Glowing in moonlight
Smooth stones
Risking their stability
In the currents
Gracefully pouring
Along the edge
Of an emerald forest
Pines, oaks and birch
A leaf dancing
In the starry flames
Night’s radiance
Whispering to souls
In prayers of faith
Discovered on
The winds of a day
Bought by the songs
Of wren and robin
Frogs on mossy stones
Beckoning to the
Promise of rainfall
Smooth, lasting stones
Layered on shores
Of rivers and creeks
Awakening the bare feet
To memories
Of childhood days
Spent wading, playing
In the clear, cool waters
Alive with sinuous fluid
Waters surging, rolling
Across the mind
Who delights in praising
The Creator who
Rests these stones
Upon the shores
Of hope and faith
Love which praises
As it slides
Across the surface
Of these fluent waves
Both agile and gracious
Molding the stones
In their favor
L Contest
I believe that long ago, the universe’s most artistic landscaper
mixed woodlands with tropics, rock formations with mountains,
volcanic craters with lush valleys, and cascading waterfalls with
pristine still waters before blending all with an ocean and
topping it off with sunshine. Man named this place, Hawaii.
The absolute awe that defines Hawaii, is bound to awaken
any slumbering faith and rejuvenate any emotion grown numb
to the brilliance of life. While visiting the Islands of Hawaii, I
absorbed a joy and wonder from the plants that delightfully
startled my own routine senses. I have been blessed in my life
to personally view beautiful and eye-catching plant life in many
regions of the world. In Hawaii, the plants adorning and tending
the islands are the most dramatic, glorious and enchanting that
my vision has ever drunk. There is an otherness to Hawaiian flora
that suggests plants are empowered with the ability to uplift,
stimulate and captivate even the most withdrawn human vision.
entrancing colors
paint a wonderland terrain ~
landscaped free of charge
bodacious flora
thrives in hawaii's landscape ~
no mute legs walk there
Night's silent shadows softly fall
from moonlight's muted, mellow glow,
that shroud the land with sunless shawls
on cold ground glazed with glinting snow.
Tree branches, seen with broader breadths
by shadows that bestow their form,
splayed stark atop the snowy depths;
by wind, they swirl like snaky swarms.
Small bushes sway between the trees
to shadow snow like ghastly ghosts
that dance deceptively to tease
and harrow wary human hosts.
Pure, peaceful pageantry at night;
such lovely landscapes, to be viewed.
But, sometimes shadows strain our sight-
with varied visions misconstrued.
March 27, 2018
Premiere Contest: 2022 Poetry Marathon
Mile 6 Poetry Contest
The sylvan landscape stretched for miles
reached across golden fields by stiles.
Leaves carpeted the ground like tiles
whilst branches lay in gathered woodpiles.
Ancient venerable trees lined the aisles
that wandered willy nilly like juveniles.
Along the river's banks were basking reptiles
with mouths that upturned in happy smiles.
In the midst of the rushing water were isles
that rose up high like big projectiles.
And trees marched up the hills in files
giving shelter to the fox and his wiles.
The peace of the woodlands beguiles
within its tranquillity there are no exiles.
Symphonic wheat fields
Singing van Gogh’s final verse
Lyrical landscapes
To be lost in Her magnificence:
pristine and pleasant
alive every moment
renewing and moving...
To see the charm:
The charm of an Idyllic Spirit...
As I wander through
widespread wilderness...
My eyes' lenses capture
the flourishing bucolic beauty
of a breathtaking view:
a panoramic terrain of rugged hills
surrounded by grassy hummocks
beside a still lake - gleaming,
reflecting the highland and steep hills
in yellow dazzling sunlight.
The foreground is adorned
with sunlit grey pebbles
glistening in crystal clear water
of the shallow unruffled blue lake.
The silent brown hill:
rough, rocky and lofty;
Wildflowers and bushes
embellish the distant ravines.
The steep towering hill
seems to whisper a secret
to the fleecy white clouds
in the clear blue sky -
A secret no one heard thus far
in heaven or earth...
2022 Poetry Marathon Mile 10 Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Mark Toney
Date: 09/15/2021
"L" Contest New Or Old Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Constance La France
Occasionally in a yard,
You were the focused scene
Library, high wall, green tree and lawn included,
As the spaceless view.
I desired to shoot this landscape
But the shutter of emotions
Missed that very moment.
In my heart, you became
The blank film.
I should have taken a photograph of it again
However I lost its focal length.
The changed landscape
Far away
Turned into
A poetic distance.
I feel more incomplete
Now than before
Exand my heart is a cartography.
Of interrupted rhythms.
In the echoes of ancestral whispers.
I stand fragmented,unfinished.
Lands that once cradled our songs
Now distant unreachable,
My heart beating between
Bitter and sweet landscapes.
Dreaming of retracing old paths
But my imagination incomplete.
My hearth's rhythm interrupted.
The winter landscape
blue on the route of the sky
forged crystals sparkle
in indifferent mute moan
singing heaven's joyful hymn
08.12.2022
Sun :) - A-L Andresen :)
Copyright © All Rights Reserved
alone
wrapped up in deep
melancholy I yearn
for the dark shadows to dissolve…
my doubts
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Cinquain Poetry Contest
Hosted by William Kekaula
Placed 1st
© 4th February 2020