Best Lifegreen Poems
Mystical the old Hill standing
Over it thick mist hazing
Kids, we were at its foot playing
In a large green meadow dallying
Heedless, innocence enjoying
The Hill’s slopes utterly ignoring
In youths, up we were growing
The Hill in our eyes was swelling
The mist little by little retreating
An enthralling Hill gradually unveiling
Majestic it stood there really tempting
The pasture we were all forsaking
One day at its bottom standing
Our sires admiringly observing
The Hill’s slopes they were climbing
The top in sight yet remote looking
A desire, inside, our minds seizing
To conquer the peak an urging longing
The meadow in our hearts dying
To venture up the Hill all our wanting
Vernal, conceited the worst choice making
A steep, sharpest inclination challenging
Soon unknown hardships we were facing
Feet down the slope perilously sliding
Fingernails for a grasp breaking
A helping hand around searching
Bruises our skin covering
The price we were told for learning.
That was only the beginning
Harder moments later we were enduring
Helpless we saw our sires one by one down falling
Yet the ascent wasn’t just sadness and mourning
Dear kids in the meadow our places taking
Their sinless smiles our hearts warming
To green flowery fields for a rest inviting
Peaceful sweet- scented fields, regenerating.
Form:
Sintered tiles of green wreathed marbles
bejewelled in steps that elevate to where you are entombed
incense wafts white and slate, demure and shy
my growing guilt is deflowered by your-her friend's- sly smirk
she scoffs along-was she forgotten, faded and gone when you left her cow carcass dead
she winced and sighed names that were you- breathing in your sights and smells
that had faded bad and blue, she had meant it with every cigar cad
she was whisky and powder for long till we had her
and they screwed and pinned her to her cross
her passion was her death as it guffawed along
your memory comes late..she is lying in state!
I pay ,bray,stay,hay,lay and walk the green wreathed marble back!
There are globs of hard snow topped on the small
Green bushes running alongside the alleys between the houses.
The branches that obstruct my view of that alley are still, quiet.
But I can see the ground is caked over in icy snow,
A tan SUV sits on the other end of the alleyway,
On a suburban road really.
A green SUV passes by.
A green truck passes by.
See now I have lost the thread.
Just watching things pass by.
Beneath the singing glass is a brick tower
where the gargoyles spit raspberries and whistle at passerby
On top cracked stained glass and crumbling masonry
Pigeons roost in its eaves, their feathers snowing on the ground
The clouds pass over the wilting copper vaults
The once-proud buttresses sweeping endlessly to the sky
Ivy creeps pitilessly onward, green upon green and stone
It noses its way into hidden nooks where the beetles sleep
Underneath saint's feet they hide
Safe from the wind that slips through the weathered brown pews
The bats here hang from the supports, twitching their flaring noses at the mice far below
Pitying them for their puny arms
While the mice look up, pitying their cousins for their ungainly legs
As the owl pities them all, for he is the one who perches on the singing glass
He surveys his cathedral with sharp yellow eyes, struck through by blackness
His wings spread over his dominion, unshakable
His talons grip the metal that hold the ceiling high, feathers twitching over tensed muscles
With his call the pigeons freeze, beady eyes wide with terror
With his silent wingbeat the ivy barely rustles
His flashing eye makes the mice flee into their holes beneath the bricks
The bats cling tightly to their tapestries
Who are they to question the undisputed?
The owl knows his place at the top of the tower
And his subjects know theirs underneath the world.
Form: