Best Meadowland Poems
I invite you to go wild,
laugh till your sides nearly burst.
And act as you did a child,
letting raindrops quench your thirst.
Start a fire with scraps of wood,
or sculpt castles made of sand.
And pick berries that taste good,
or stroll through a meadowland.
Go splash in the creek barefoot
or chase frogs that swim away.
And track monsters like Bigfoot,
while you enjoy this play day.
Giggle at the dog's kisses,
or run, like, you'll never stop.
Poke a snake till it hisses,
or climb a tree to its top.
Gaze at the clouds sailing by,
as they slowly drift away.
And treat yourself to a pie,
while having a fun-filled day.
Splatter painted, Pollock blessed, leggy I stand,
among the green grass and healing Plantain
in a kaleidoscope of color panned.
A walking canvas in the meadowland
stems, humorously stippled to entertain
splatter painted, Pollock blessed; leggy I stand.
Blush brushed by daylight, a cheeky garland;
a stand bloomed within thin skinned constraints
in a kaleidoscope of color panned.
Pistils between petals unknown unplanned,
joyous the sound of honey bees restrained,
splatter painted, Pollock blessed; leggy I stand.
A plantigrade intrusion, a new brand
surface mounted digits adorned prearranged
in a kaleidoscope of color panned.
So bright the upright parts, so very grand
one can but dream the crown gloriously manned
splatter painted, Pollock blessed; leggy I stand
in a kaleidoscope of color panned.
Mused: Bella online Literary Review Winter 2015
Over in the meadowland the birds are singing
Warm weather portends the returning of spring
The bees have set about their pollen bringing.
Hopeful, bright spring days with excitement tingling
Cause our voices to shout out and lustily sing,
Over in the meadowland the birds are singing
While with glee my life’s breath is mingling
So happy I feel like life is gaudy glitter and bling
The bees have set about their pollen bringing.
Spring to me reminds of Barnum and Ringling
The colorful memories of childhood bring
Over in the meadowland the birds are singing.
I can reminisce about the high school flinging
The loss of my first love that brought a sting,
The bees have set about their pollen bringing.
The season of spring brings to me self-healing
More than anything else, a welcoming thing,
The bees have set about their pollen bringing
Over in the meadowland the birds are singing.
FIRST PLACE WINNER
edited April 7, 2022
written January 21, 2022
for "Springtime Villanelle" Poetry Contest
sponsored by Sotto Poet
I love you as I love the sun,
her blinding rays a blessed truth
that blaze o'er hill and meadowland
and sing a song of winsome youth.
Your warmth puts roaring fires to shame,
ignites the flame that inward glows,
it resonates, and sanctifies
my happy heart, the blushing rose.
Your tenderness, so blithe and sweet
entreats, and gently mystifies,
your countenance personifies
the glisten in your soft brown eyes.
May Helios, that wondrous orb,
forever shine, and play her part,
and may compassion ever mark
the fervent beating of your heart.
A scarlet tanager sits primly on the rail
Of the new fence erected near the meadow,
He eyes me stroll as I take in every detail
The path to the woodland is rather narrow,
Infrequently used, it is rapidly overgrowing
I am brushing against the yellow yarrow,
As hottest of summer is fast approaching
The meadowland has nary a cooling shadow.
Happily, I note the salt lick has disappeared
I hope its purposes were well-intentioned,
Certainly not as the hunter’s ploy, I feared
In a previous post, I am sure I mentioned.
I feel the coolness of the pleasant breeze
As I approach the edge of the tree line
Where meadow gives way to aspen trees,
And further on, a stand of taller pine.
I shall follow the trail through the wood
To the river which I can faintly hear, ahead
Where I saw a huge buck in full manhood,
And I have seen signs of where he bed.
It is a good two-mile hike, not exhausting
But I stop to examine new growth along
And for moments to reflect, I am pausing,
I’m encouraged by the tanager’s song.
Written June 18, 2022
for Juvie, with all my love...
I love you as I love the sun,
her blinding rays a blessed truth
that blaze o'er hill and meadowland
and sing a song of winsome youth.
Your warmth puts roaring fires to shame,
ignites the flame that inward glows,
it resonates, and sanctifies
my happy heart, the blushing rose.
Your tenderness, so blithe and sweet
entreats, and gently mystifies,
your countenance personifies
the glisten in your soft brown eyes.
May Helios, that wondrous orb,
forever shine, and play her part,
and may compassion ever mark
the fervent beating of your heart.
"Shades of Green"
In meadowland, fragrant heather cascaded
While I walked hand in hand flowered kisses invaded.
Pollen descended from golden honeybees
Buzzing contently upon billowing breeze.
Gazing at blue sky, I brightly smile
Into evening light, my eyes to beguile.
A haven of refuge in this peaceful place
Sun-rays touch so gently every leaf's face.
My true love appears in shades of green
As tender emotions emit unseen.
A fantasy paradise, sweet and serene
Passions overflow among beautiful green.
My dreams of delight transport me there
Immersed in embrace without a care.
As tall as green grass, the winds, I kiss,
Curve on curve sways, bending in bliss.
*For Catie Lindsey's Re-Write One of My Poems Contest.
Walking along the trail he thought about days past.
They were told they had to leave, but never were they asked.
The morning dew was cool as they began the long walk west.
When his father said don't look back he knew it was for the best.
Leaving his home was hard, he couldn't begin to understand.
The place they were going was said to be grassy meadowland.
As the days turned into weeks many of his people perished.
The hope they felt in the beginning had already vanished.
It's impossible to know the horror they were forced to endure.
Without John Ross however, they'd have lost more to be sure.
There's no doubt they were forced to endure heinous barbarity.
However, he walks with head held high because he is Cherokee.
Flowers flourish flavoring the field,
wild waifs that wave and whirl and whip
beneath the wind's wanton waltzing ways.
Bucolic bees buzz blooms and sip
sweet sage, sacramental savorings.
A halcyon habitat, a happy home,
for blessing birds and bees and blossoms,
majestic, magical May meadowland, my own.
Copyright, July 6, 2014
Faye Lanham Gibson
My Backyard Playground....Mt. Lassen Peak
Our playground is a mountain steep
Come climb with me to Lassen's Peak!
It guards our valley, rust and green
Like roughing it? A camper's dream!
Or take a picnic for the day
Such beauty takes your breath away
With lakes and streams and meadowland
Boiling mudpots, volcanic thrills
And sulpher springs to take a bath
With fish and game and hiking trails
In summer take your fishing poles
Or ski the slopes when winter calls
One hundred years, since last it blew
Prepare to run....'cause it ain't through!!!
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Inspired by Brian's contest "SONNET ME"
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Lassen_Peak
Come with me
into the meadow of the mind
where God is found. Its ambience
is of reflection, and cannot be earned.
It is the ringing in the far-off hills,
never heard above the silence of the damned.
It is the glimmer of the light
just after sundown as it falls
upon the facing cliffs that form
the walls of dreams.
It is the unpretentious whispering of love
relentless patriots will always bury
underneath the fusillade of war.
So limns the meadowland of God,
footprint of the divine.
It is too much to worship, venerate or pray to.
Too much to wrap around reality
or ever simulate or hold above our heads.
It is not to understand; for
God may not be any where...
at all.
~
I love you as I love the sun,
her blinding rays a blessed truth
that blaze o'er hill and meadowland
and sing a song of winsome youth.
Your warmth puts roaring fires to shame,
ignites the flame that inward glows,
it resonates, and sanctifies
my happy heart, the blushing rose.
Your tenderness, so blithe and sweet
entreats, and gently mystifies,
your countenance personifies
the glisten in your soft blue eyes.
May Helios, that wondrous orb,
forever shine, and play her part,
and may compassion ever mark
the fervent beating of your heart!
Don't Give Up
When friends forsake and promised love dies you still have purpose.
Who could leave the Summer and her moon drenched country stream,
Where pilgrims bathe when tired in body and soul?
Who could leave the splendor of the Sun's glorious might,
That penetrates the darkness and enchants the earth with light?
Who could leave the Winter and her sweet snow white grace
That shelters every shrub and tree with clusters of glistening lace
And is the motivator of Blue Ridge and Rocky Mountain sport,
Persuading both friend and lover to coze 'round fires of blazing warmth?
Who could leave the Autumn and her discarded crispy leaves,
That afford the ear such pleasure 'til recalled by melancholy trees?
Who could deny eyes her intoxicating colors or nose her rare perfume?
Autumn banishes from the soul every bit of gloom.
Who could leave the Springtime that births a tingling in the toes?
And with her healing fragrances and gift of Gypsy Rose,
Woos you deep into green forests and magic meadowland,
Where flowers sway taking one's breath away,
And inspire's the poets hand.
By Joan May (Donnelly) Ellis
When the leaves are budding on the trees
It is said love blooms in the springtime,
Meadowland critters are going on sprees
When the leaves are budding on the trees,
We hear the soft whisper of the breeze
From our warm hearts we pen a rhyme
When the leaves are budding on the trees,
It is said love blooms in the springtime.
Written March 26, 2022
Snow melting, icicles dripping from the eave
Hint that winter’s frigid air may soon leave,
Replaced by warm breezes from the south
In swampy bayous return the cottonmouth.
When mulberry buds are ready to burst
Buttercups turn upward like they thirst,
My lawn will glow with sweet dandelions
In nature the colors change like chameleons,
Spring flowers present as a lovely bouquet
While the hibernating animals come to play.
The meadowland beckons me for a stroll
And a newness of spirit refreshes my soul.
written January 19, 2022
submitted to "A STRAND" Poetry Contest
sponsored by Brian Strand