Best Leaved Poems
I’m feral like a fox
misplaced in the
maroon mists
of wilderness,
only found in
woeful woodland.
My skin is blanketed
in crimson balmy
hyacinth feathers
from a
forsaken rainforest.
Misguided on
delusional paths,
where spring-tides
mirror liquified colors
of warm diamond tears
I’ve suppressed
behind ice blue sighs.
And I’ve seen
splintered petals
beneath thick-leaved
jewel orchids,
that surrendered
to greying leaves
on tainted twigs
and broken branches.
I’ve walked through
fields of thorns
where the
musky scent
of roses remained
a poison to
my aching soul.
So, why does it
feel like I’m chained
from vines of changes,
that suffocate
the sun within me,
crucifying the fragility
of premature
begonia beginnings?
Am I to follow
the darkness,
to cast away the evil,
constantly pushing me
into a cave of
cacophonous silence?
As I see beyond
the gossamer veil,
hiding sharpened talons
of treacherous eagles-
flying amongst
vicious vampires;
emerald foes
masked as friends,
feeding my conscience
with cruel concoctions,
oblivious to the truth,
that I am a bark believer
of marigold miracles.
So let the
steel black breeze
and the
faceless ghosts
of fleeting time,
witness how I
rise against
wicked wolves
lurking behind
stars within
a chiffon laced
canopy of nightfalls.
For, I am more
than the empty labels
you’ve placed,
like the shame,
I’ve buried beneath
lyrical lies drizzling
from vanilla skies.
I turn to my girl highlighting Mayday is near
A day of spectacle that the whole village views
There's Jesters of folly and Knights without fear
Witnessing lances and jokes, always going askew
To view such we can venture along different ways
We can stroll by the river listening to many sounds
In awe as we walk amidst most wondrous displays
That on any given day beautiful vistas abound
Decisions, decisions, as we contemplate which way
It's such a special day wondering what to wear
Beauty personified will my Olive be on this day
Knights or Royal Princes, all they can do is stare
So tomorrow we've decided to be our chosen route
Two hearts in decision, declaring what's their suit
Mayday morn now greets as I turn next to me
She my guiding light as beautiful as the dawn
Excitement illuminates for into her eyes I see
Onto my back I lie, that feel she's now upon
Into this day we go heading along the river
Crystal clear translucent such serenity in it's flow
Under greened canopies cooled shaded deliver
Wafting leaved dress in delightful fanned throw
We sense the clearings near for scents we sense
Sporadic clusters in capture of welcoming eyes
Mayday games have started, distant heard suspense
Knights on horseback mounted, now in espy
Now we're in amidst encapsulated we now are
She's here to cheer, her Sir James, soon to spar
Balcony she now awaits, white steed he's now astride
Blinkered pairings gallop towards intended foe
To win this Mayday he, to fight for her his bride
Eliminate his enemy, witness his crimson flow
His lance in now connect, thrown metal disperses
Petals of beauty hurled of rainbows selected
Images of we, now thinking marital rehearses
To know on this day, her intended she's elected
Moments of their previous now in recent past
Knowing they're now free in kaleidoscopic stream
Spectrum of feelings now in view full cast
In colourful extremes, fight for your dreams
.
Trees
look down,
breath catching,
at reflections
mirrored in mountain
river's deep, quiet pools;
those shy wallflower maidens
leaved in sizzle tinted dance gowns
blush scarlet beneath the sun's bold gaze,
accept his hand, swirling to a wind waltz.
Copyright, September 20,2015
Faye Lanham Gibson
I see beyond the
sea-snake crown
of thick-leaved jewels,
as a gossamer veil
conceals jealous goblins
shape-shifting above
a snow-dappled forest
of freckled weeds…
there third-eye rests
amidst tangerine tentacles
tearing my cinnamon
green clemency
glazed with holographic
lime gold clover….
now I’m torn
between wicked willows,
and a weeping angel,
vying for my
peridot throne,
embellished with
envious emeralds,
piercing passionately
through sparkling scales
of mermaid skin,
as peacock oceanic fairies
within skeleton silence
flutter mint-teal memoirs
of a narcissistic mantis~
tangling starry soliloquies..
there eagle-spotted
mantas swirl across
moon-kissed streams
unfolding marine magnificence
through mysteriously
malevolent musings..
I care not for the
rustic trinkets you wear
on fiery feathers
like cluttered calligraphy~
screaming in
high-pitched stillness,
longing to be seen and heard,
their faded fragrance
glows now within
tranquil twilight roots
like a forgotten facade,
while I sit secluded~
in my flaming coral garden,
as the modest maiden
of the rosemary sun,
unmoved and unbothered,
by the wailing wind
carrying notorious narratives
of eclipsed echoes
from sorrowful souls,
where hollow fangs
caress cruel
currents of chaos,
oblivious to the
sonatas of jasmine rain,
for I sing not for the spiteful
tides of tethered turquoise,
rippling with
salt-soaked souvenirs
mirroring the
untamable agony
of lost ancestors.
Melodies pour out from my soul.
They float up towards the stars,
swirl in and around clouds,
swerve, spiral and swoop like swallows
in search of their cozy homely branches
of the tall stately cedar trees.
Melodies of my passionate serenade,
a dulcet harmonious canticle of praise,
listen, they sing of my undying love
for you, just for you and none other than you.
For I was made for you as you were made for me.
What can come between us, my loved one?
Melodies of mine whirl glide and waltz,
like a breeze among the thick-leaved trees,
under the canopy of star-lit night sky and settle
upon your luscious lips in a long endearing kiss.
Shadowy images creep in
carried on a cold, November wind
and easing through the leaved trees
autumn gives one last final sneeze
as every leaf and even a branch or two
fall from the distant forestal yews.
Listen well to the howls and cries
whispering the song of wonder and beauty of the skies
when God and nature blend the seasons
with calm messages for change and reason.
Should December ease in gentle or wild
the snows ice chilled or the days warm and mild
remember this song whistling thru the trees
God's breath lay in every breeze.
The day surprised me
tiptoed in on warm autumn breezes
that slipped in an out the leaved trees
floating down like winged butterfly chains
crunchy and wrinkled from the lack of rain
sliding in on clouds without a hint of change;
autumn rustled light upon the earthen forms
with browning grass and fading blossoms torn
and birds gathering in-flight prep migrating winter storms;
along the garden edge,
bulbs slept in their deepened beds
and the dried and thirsting ground
held spring's new bounty to be later found;
summer gave up its burn as it slipped away
outrunning sun and moon of longer to shorter days
to rest immersed
in cloud burst
with winter fantasies reborn.
(Walking Seven Steps)
Catching the last shot of the sunset sky
Even more rustier than before
Delayed my departure.
I asked my friends to go ahead
And I would catch up with them, but
The perfect shot took longer than I thought.
Packing my bags I hurried downhill knowing
I was lagging far behind the others.
The thickness of the night engulfed me
And I knew I had lost my trail.
Stumbling over a stone I had also
Lost my torch, and started walking blindly
In the darkness of the woods.
The pitch black trees seemed statued
To the ones that breathed life
When I had often trampled
Through the varied wooded parks.
The autumn leaves were crackling
Under my light footsteps as
The tiniest crescent moon smiled
Through the bare leaved branches
Welcoming my partnership on our lone journey.
How long I walked, my feet knew not
How long I would walk, my heart knew not
My map was dark and my eyes could read it not.
But my ears were sharp to hear another crackling
Under footsteps many times heavier than mine.
From the dark slope above I saw a shadow enlarged
Hurrying down to my path as if to lead me out.
My breath was calm, my eyes happy, and quietly
My adventurous spirit followed him wherever he lead.
The woods became denser and our pace quicker
With a click of his finger the air became fresher.
So intoxicated was I with the heavenly air that
It perfumed my soul, my very breath and
Every transient thought that fleeted in,
Till I stood before a very flowery welcoming cottage.
I extended my hand to my shrouded partner and said:
'It takes seven steps together to make a friend.
We have walked more than seven steps together to......'.
My hooded companion most divinely intervened:
'It takes seven steps together to make a friend
It takes seven hours together
To make any journey most heavenly'.
Without raising his chin,without accepting my extended hand
He turned his back to retreat into the woods
As mysteriously as he had entered it.
My sister’s smile
Fourteen years ago, my sister founded something, something powerful, something she wore everyday, a smile. A smile that could defeat anything that was against her and make everyone around felt nothing but joy. My sister had a disease, there might not be another tomorrow for her but she did nothing but carpe diem; enjoy every single moment to the fullest. I can barely remember everything that passed during that time, I was just four years old but it is impossible for anyone to forget such a unique and beautiful smile. One day she had to do analysis, another day she needed to take about 10 medicines and the next day she was in chemo, this process repeated itself by several months and I was amazed because not a single day passed where she didn’t give a smile. Most of the days she had to go through intense and painful tests so she can get better and believe me they were extremely hard, but she had something that motivated her, a kind of award. She had a little book that was full of happy faces stickers of every single color, size and shape. She loved the shiny ones because it meant not only happiness; there was a little extra that made her feel so good. She wrote on a notebook her daily treatments and she leaved a little space so when her hard day was over, she can put the sticker on the blank space she left previously on the page. She filled about 240 pages with happy faces and every person that went to visit her read the whole notebook and left the place with a smiley face sticker on their forehead. It is a unique and simple daily motivation she had and it turned out that it worked really well for her. Many people find happiness with material things such as new clothes, accessories, cars, luxury things, and etc. They forget that the little and simple things have the most impact in their life. My sister’s happiness was represented by a simple smile and most of the persons that she knew and where present during that time had received that gift she founded one day. Through hard times and sad days don’t forget to smile because one single movement from your mouth can bring the most powerful feelings that can defeat almost everything that stands against you. Just like my sister, she founded her smile and it turned out that it worked really well for her.
INTO THE WILD
I dreamed ......
An arboreal wandering into the wild
Creeping in narrow-leaved green herbage
Afraid to be mashed by other wolverines got riled
Their safe abode is now in the siege
The rampage and stampede make a harsh noise
Joining the rumble will stumble into near-death
Swiftly moving away, intend to do a ploy
Taking hold of strength and a grasp of pure breath
Chasing the weak and hear the piercing shriek of pains
The fauna now in a vain attempt to meet and regroup from the maze
A lurking prowler just outside ready to take his aim
A Carnivore’s rendezvous dealing another round of faze
Forays refrain them from regression
Marsupial bearing young is watchful and vigilant
For a hostile entry, a swift run from apprehension
Saving the younglings and safely back to Taiga so verdant
With balsam fir’s magical warming in winter and cooling summer
Tall trees get blown over osiers, shrubs, and miniature spruce
Hear the wind swayed the trees gently just like a hummer
A walk to wet spongy forest ground that has a soft carpet of moss
A truly look at life into the wild is precarious
Feeding on flesh and a quench from trickling stream
Some nocturnal species tending to be gregarious
To survive in this biome is a short-lived dream
Previously posted in voicesnet.com poetry site last 21 October 2009.
O pening up my front door this morning,
C ould not believe what I saw there.
T he aroma of wood smoke was in the air.
O vernight the entire world had changed,
B ountiful beauty as far as the eye could see.
E very leaved limb shivered in the cool air.
R eminding me of all my autumns gone by.
Written for Andrea Dietrich's contest
"Skipping Six, Going Straight to Seven-Acrostics Challenge #3"
https://youtu.be/Otq_Z1-99rE
https://m.soundcloud.com/user-921599710/our-rainforests
Deep into the rainforest, a struggle to survive
From insects to leaved trees, wanting all to thrive
The habitat of animals, species all around
Living things a-plenty, crawling on the ground
The four main layers play a different role
The bio-diversity forms part of the whole
The dark forest floor and the understory
Shorter plants existing, many bugs to see
The vibrant middle layer, yet forms the canopy
Climbing the emergent, just like a monkey
The strong plant materials, helps to build a home
For people of the Amazon, food that has been grown
Tropical regions, Equator ever near
A moderate climate, giant trees are here
Forests on a mountain, misty all around
Coated in a moss, such an eerie surround
North and South America and Oceania
Asia and Europe, as well as Africa
There’s a cycle of life, yet deforestation
Affects the homes of animals for plantation
Removing ecosystems, can cause erosion
Droughts as well as flooding, less cohesion
The modern ways of man affects vegetation
Contributing to a silent devastation
Replanting, recycling, assisting with crops
Steps of preservation quench like raindrops
The precious seeds and life, of which can be found
Yet, it’s not too late to turn this world around
Written by Geraldine Taylor ©
Skeletal garden stalks rattle, shivering,
long leaved arms rustle in the wind,
bony fingers snap in rhythm
to October’s haunting song;
they gather as shadowy hillside wraiths,
spectral companions for Ichabod Crane.
Summer shudders,
scattering abundant harvest corn,
thick as hoar frost,
squirreled away in darkened dens by scurrying rodents,
tasty treats against winter’s frigid tricks.
Wet days drip from the eaves,
hardening in lengthening icy fingers
that pry slippery edges from shortening days.
The pumpkin fields,
beaten chocolate brownie cakes,
sweetened with light snow,
have surrendered fat orange fruits
to carvers’ knives for spicy pies and jack-o-lanterns.
Autumn bridges fire and ice,
a zesty-sweet season splice.
© September 15, 2015
Huldra
In the green valley
Near lake blue and pink salmon
Lived a huldra
Beautiful in human eyes
But trolls had rejected her
Ugly in their eyes
I heard her desolate song
Saw her shimmering
Blond as Iberian sea straw
Made gold-leaved by the sun
I saw her tail too
And before she charmed me
Sprinted for my life
Since folklore has made it clear
Human and trolls may not mix
Because if they do
The offspring will be rejected
By trolls and human
And for perpetuity be lost
Walking the strand of loneliness
(Huldra, Female Troll in Nordic mythology)
They have bad renomé and that´s a pity)
O Catie love ye do ask too much of a poor scribbling poet to ask him to
open the doors so ye can view the terrible thing he knows himself to be.
All men and mayhap women too know what terrors hide behind our own locked
doors. Yet still ye ask, so very well, I'll unbolt the door to allow ye to peer with-
in if ye are so inclined. I for one have seen inside and know what a putrid slice
of humanity I am and how I revel in the darkness when drunkeness or pain or even
simply living allows those fetid shutters to slip and let me see. I speak not of evil
deeds I have performed nor of any punishment I fear for these foul perfomances,
but of the satisfaction felt when the girl who wouldna dance with me is paralysed in
a car wreck or when my old boss hangs himself after going bankrupt. These
thoughts and others like them and worse I have imprisoned herein. Because these
things hang festering like buboes on my soul ready to rupture and allow their
stinking pus to flow, I cannae further go. Still here be the key for ye to use if ye still
wish to see. I ask only that ye dinna remove my chance to suicide but leaved it
within and bring it not into the light. I dinna believe we'll like each other after but I
will understand if ye wish not to bear my company more. This key and my love as my
friend are all I have to gie thee. Pray, use both well.