Best Landscapes Poems
We leave the womb,
that place of warm safe-keeping,
and arrive to face our would-be lives
with nothing but a body and
a landscape, ready-made
but needing to be seeded
It's a pristine, faintly gleaming table of the mind.
Seeds of knowledge sown,
like clockwork, quickly grow,
nourished by the light
or even by mere shadows of examples
and fostered by a daily rain of practice.
Saplings soon arise in normal, fertile minds.
How the woodland shines when it’s enlightened!
Time passes. The trees of each soul’s forest
get taller; some get statelier. . .but all get old.
What mystery it is to me why some
who wish to keep their woodland strong
are met with great misfortune.
A parasite attacks, and one by one,
their trees succumb.
Soon each mind of these unfortunate souls
regresses to a time when
it was but a primal vacant landscape
with this exception. . .
the terrain is only rocky barren soil.
I wonder if they see in their last earthly moments
the glimmer of
a brand new gleam
on their horizon.
June 29, 2020 for
Strand Completely New (3) Any Theme Any Form Poetry Contest
Interior Landscapes: The Border Collie
It is the country of fallow fields in
my dream, our car pulls off the road
beside a fenced in area...
The grass is tall and merciful there.
In this field, a border collie runs at top
speed back and forth.
My soul knows the dog as my dog who
died years before.
My heart bounds, I alight from the car
through the evening's heat, climb through
the fence love pouring like painful nectar
from me.
God tells me, in this dream, the dog has
gone through many lifetimes, soul traveled
just to have this moment with me.
I stand in the middle of the field, gray night
sky to both sides of us, but dark clarity
above and I call to the dog, my arms
opened wide, "Come to me, my beautiful
dog. How long I have waited just to
hold you."
The dog knows me and leaps from a full
run into my arms. The dog is as warm as
love and reality.
Then, the moment passes and the dog
scurries joyously away into an enourmous
white church at the far end of the field, its
orange warm light resounding through the
fallow and the full fields then... The gray
and the vibrant purple.
I know the white church to be heaven and
God assures me the dog is happy and safe
there.
I turn, go back to the car through the
Summer night's heat and am rested in my
soul, rested in my dreams.
fallen autumn leaves
glissading across the fields
painting the landscape
2016
The strewn spider webs,
Thread the needles of the pines:
Tapestry of trees.
Midnight skies light up in a neon swirl of colors
with rainbow reams of light, shooting transient pathways
that blaze momentary lines of prism hues
like a brilliant comet leaving a sizzling trail
a color wheel of reds, yellows, blues, purples and greens
swirl of colors, going round and round, in my mind.
Written on 6/4/2016
The world is full of beautiful nature,
Of wonder and in the pursuit,
In the landscapes, the mountains,
And the oceans that we view.
The skies: their shine is so bright and beautiful.
The clouds are all fluffy and white,
They all have various kinds of shapes and sizes,
The clouds are roaming our skies.
From the tiniest of Natures flowers,
To the mightiest of bold trees.
Beauty in Mother Nature surrounds me,
Which fills me with such peace.
The birds that soar high up in the skies,
The creatures on the ground adorned evermore.
The flutter of a butterfly's wings,
How does the buzzing of a bee's wings sound?
The Sun, it rises every day in the dawn,
Set in the Western night sky,
Existing beautifully.
The Sun dips behind the horizon's skyline.
The darkening sky fades even darker,
The moon shines in the dark so brightly.
She's always looking down to the ground,
The stars up there are sparkling down.
Beauty in Mother Nature is all around us,
The gift that I can behold and see is true.
A source of unadulterated amazement,
And wonderment in the inspiration,
Mother Nature includes.
There are treasures in our Mother Nature,
And far more precious than any metals or jewels.
All abroad! Amazing airplane aims above Asia ascending at an ample airline.
Bestowing big buildings, busy businesses, beautiful beaches...
Camera captures candid cascading countryside.
Dozen dandelions display delightful destinations.
Everyone easily escapes enjoyment.
Families follow festivals featuring favorite foods.
Guests grow generating grand group gatherings.
Happy hikers holler, "Hello", having heartfelt hospitality.
Itinerary illustrates interest.
Journalists jot joyful journeys.
Kindreds keep keepsakes.
Laziness lingers leaving luxury lounging.
Many mountains measure meaningful moments.
Neighbors noticing newfound nature.
Onlookers observe outstanding overviews.
People profile pretty picturesque plains.
Quaint quiet quests.
Rivers rage radiating rainbow rays.
Souvenirs stock storefronts signaling surging sales.
Tourists travel tracing town's treasures.
Upcoming unbelievable utopia.
Visitors vacation vast vicinities.
Wonderful walks were waiting world wonders.
XOXO's xeroxed.
Yesterday's yearly yacht yearnings.
Zooming zestfully.
A variety of fine brushes…thin, medium, wide,
soft and smooth... to paint landscapes - sky, ocean, tree,
at tranquil dawn, my backyard turns into an oasis,
A transient escape for peace, sanctuary for me!
Focused on visual delight, savour sublimity!
umbrella-like willow, lush leaves offering shade,
dainty roses bloom, elegant hydrangea smiles,
playful birds chirp, frisky squirrels run, until daylight fade!
Sky often mesmerizing vermillion at quiet dawn,
sun rises, waking up the world, with glorious light
bees frolic, pretty butterflies kiss ravishing flowers,
I get lost in the allure of a captivating sight!
My blank canvases get covered with gorgeous paints,
I dip and glide my brush, whimsical colours I splash in,
sunset at Arabian Sea, sunrise on Himalayas,
create amazing views even where I had never been!
Poetry, cascading fountain of our soul, paints life with words,
Painters, sparked by imagination, borrow colours from Nature,
Depict the surreal universe with unique perspectives,
Poetry and Art… blend, connect, compensate each other.
View a rose landscape: rose shrubs for pleasure,
admiration and desire. Natures’ natural beauty with a sweet scent
Of Roses hybrid teas: their features of abundant large ornate blooms with colorful petals budding from long luscious green stems extending
Roses grandiflora: tall and statuesque blooms that comes in vigorous and vivacious clusters rather than many precocious individual ones
Roses floribunda: a cross of hybrid teas with polyantha:
this of large clusters of beautiful blooms that are continuous and steady
Roses polyantha: are of smaller roses than floribunda roses this at about 1 inch in diameter; many are seen on hedges and on white picket fences
Roses shrubs: has sprawling vine stems in all directions and are hardy in fine cool temperatures; also having a grand flower cluster of sensuous sweet fragrances
Roses of miniature or miniflora: they are shorter and more compact in growth yet, the impact is not miniature in all its glorious pleasure
Roses in bushes: has vibrant colors of pinks, reds, yellows, white and orange;
all are of joyful displays of a nature's lovely ornament enchantments
Their stems pruned and shaped are a designed landscape: seen on houses and a countryside and a holiday display and a great grand parade and a lovely lady's fine wedding day
Where to place the rippling paint uponthe whitish canvas, setting on a beast of burden,with a palette of bright watery pastels loadedLike a multicolored flower, a masterpiece of its own,lifting the paint and pulling, the first strokeI am bristling with excitement of where,this crosshatching idea of a painting should goSqueezing the crinkled tube to addanother color to cover my Venetian lagoonDry brushing a marmalade sunset sinking,into a greenish seaNakedly dipping into shades, that only I can only imagine,casting a little shade here and there cannot hurtMistakes are easily hidden with a few strokesThe undertone is on purpose, for the commissioncomes from Lady Contesta, a lacey discreet loveTo bring this, stippling but quaint portrait, to an endI sign with my secret pen near the gondola,on the bricola, Burano 6/17/2017
“Santa Fe”
Santa Fe, Santa Fe,
Oh Santa Fe,
Take me home to Santa Fe.
Where mountain peaks
Are bathed in gold.
Where artists and seekers
Come to unfold.
Where natives live in ages past
Stair step terra-cotta
Rise on desert floors.
Where artists come to paint and play
Calling all to Santa Fe
Dream maker’s dreams
Come true in the
Travertine
Aisles of Canyon Road.
Take me home to Santa Fe.
Zuni, Navajo and Hopi jewels
Laid out on woven throws.
Travelers come to barter
For jewels upon their wrists.
Sculptors, painters and weavers
Silversmiths, potters and glass blowers
Excite the spirits hidden deep
Within your soul.
The joy of beauty unfolds.
Galleries upon Galleries;
Artistic nudes,
Golden sunsets and landscapes.
Glimpses through storefront glass
Play on your senses.
The sun shines bright in Santa Fe.
Boxes carved in walls
Deliver stories from the past.
Colored doors tell tales of lives within.
Many an O’Keeffe have come and gone
Yet they linger in the spirits
And walls of Santa Fe.
No other place inspires
Like Santa Fe.
I dream of her
Whenever I’m blue.
Take me back to Santa Fe;
Paint a picture on my soul.
You wake up my senses
You beautify my soul
You heal my sorrows
You bring joy to my life
When I die let it be in Santa Fe
There is no better place
To lay your bones
Than dear old Santa Fe.
Take me home to Santa Fe.
Lon 9/24/2021
The day smelled of light living
Of loud laughs and hearty hugs
The day shined with the rays of a ferocious sun
And seemed to shout at me to get out of my cocoon
And draw its beauty on a painting
Such a one which would remain etched
On souls' admiring glances for eons on end!
I thus walked out of my one room apartment
With my materials and faced the glares of people
A woman claiming to be an artist is still unheard of
Still I sat in a corner of the bus station
There where I knew everyone would see me
And started painting!
I painted myself, as I saw me and not
As the rest of the world did
Pray, I painted myself seated on swing
In an orchard, an orchard laden with juicy fruits
And blossoming flowers
I sat and relished the upward flow of the swing
While the white lilies scattered everywhere
Turned gradually dark red
Pray, I propelled myself up to the skies
But, left, a part of me in the flowers
The white lilies shall be me
While being for the rest an unexplained mystery!
The Unexplained Mystery
horizontal landscapes with anthills
ants plant poison pills on mulch trails
solar breezes inspire physicists
the universe works overtime
earth dances with oceans
becomes desert without mulch
the universe doesn't work anymore
poisoned ants occupy dead planets
Like travellers,
We cross this arid land
Aiming at the city of rest.
As we traverse the landscapes
We may, of a truth, sully our feet
With besetting dust of sin
But we must from time to time
Remember Calvary, the place of cleansing
Where mercy flows immeasurably
We go through marketplaces
Let’s be pleased with divine supplies
Lest we are tangled with vanities of life
We faint many a time
But we are resuscitated; we move on
We despair not.
We shall win!
We are soldiers in the warfare
Let’s fight, holding onto the cross
Weigh the ideological anchor, set sail to the flexible space.
A place that has no existence in and of itself, in reality the quest into
a fascinating territory, with no borders and are of the conceptualized phantasm.
An incursion into an imaginary land of perception or maybe, a recursion,
as you define it or defining the definition in a dictionary.
This story began, in a story or just maybe, in the dreams of continuum,
only you know, for the only conjugant is that of your own inflection,
in the mirror of a mirror, where colors vibrate musically and
the sky is upside down and time is not the factor of flight and
moments do not adhere, to themselves put slide in poly-diagonals and
the snowflake effect reverses itself, building a better snowman,
who in turn, offers you a drink of music, that makes you feel, right at home,
in your igloo. Mi casa es vuestra casa, where the cold is not relative to the dynamics, of thermal barriers. Parry, the Fisher King is eating Gilbert’s grapes, while discussing the Rain man. Don’t be disturbed,
I am not the Black Swan, of the family or playing the Game,
while flying over the cuckoo's nest. In fact, Beautifully minded,
without the hallucinations, just a few changes and your mind,
went on a rant picturesque or grotesque about, what is he talking about but the digression was a fluid response, of outside stimuli and
not where your imagination is going or was or could have been but
it was captured and then set free in a land of make believe...