Best Meadows Poems
IN THE MEADOWS IS MY DREAM
Strolling, strolling we are in the meadow: airy and green
where asters, dahlias, nod and wink passing their green
With him by my side, the hours of dread and fear are gone
His blue eyes speak: "we're a match in heaven, always green"
Dandelion heads float like little parachutes while we walk,
he spinning me round and round in the carpet of golds and green
Eyes to eyes meet, no more words from A to Z, we need not speak
for our heartbeats duet in vibrato of love so evergreen
Afar we hear thumps of small feet and some thunder laughs,
He and I turn round we behold our kids innocent and green
Father God-- the author of love along blue feathers
and yellow smile is watching over us in that vast green...
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8:40 pm , April 24, 2015
Now starved of sleep I watch the shadows creep,
this selfish heart now seething with desire,
beats and beats - relentless thrums grow deep-
they hide, oh how they hide inside the fire!
Then...peaceful in the meadow is this gloom,
in lunar lumen's self-defining light,
that cowers from the truth that dwells at noon
in one forgotten moment of its flight.
Precocious shadows sweep the slumbered fields,
like children of the day that tease the sun,
to loose the resurrection that it yields
while owls of conscience watch which way I run.
As moonlit meadows wander in my dreams,
my peaceful posture's not quite what it seems...
Sunlight or Moonlight - Moonlight on Meadows chosen title 8-21-24
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Moonlight on Meadows
Moonlight lays with meadows
Splashing auroras of platinum mist
On midnight
As lupine enters Luna’s corona
Dressed in veils of silver blue.
Light’s fingertips spread wide
Taking in the silk caress –
Hypnotic lavender and clover.
The silent silver flute song
Parts tangled nests of moonlit shadows
Sinking deeply into the crucible of light
While florid breaths of tuberose,
Leave an argent kiss
In moon pearls of satin dews.
Garlands of scented leaves
Undulate in polar wax and wane
Swaying
Holding close arching moonbows of sterling.
In full splendor of lunar madness
Sweet midnight ambrosias explode
To dust the moonlight and meadows
With crystal bits of silver glitz.
Subtle like the midnight air
She walks in meadows upon the sky
Never touching ground with a care
Her spirit lifts my heart high
Daydreaming often about you
You fill my mind with thoughts as well
Perhaps one day this dream comes true
An angel you are, time shall tell
2~July~2017
I love walking in dawn's emerging light,
when meadows are bathed in golden shimmers;
and the birds chirp a song of sweet delight,
with reflected hues of dancing glimmers.
The colored wildflowers wet with dew sway;
there is a promise of a perfect day !
I find an old tree with fluttering leaves,
and lay down beneath it's protecting limbs;
where delicate ivy here and there weaves,
and I think of fanciful dreamy whims.
Oh, time to explore another meadow;
for another whimsical lovely show !
Oh, must I leave this enchanted green place;
where every sweet scene is an embrace !
To fly like a bird, basically unencumbered
leaving behind the world's joy and pain.
To soar to spaces only birds have been,
and touch the very edge of a violet sky.
To drift on a cloud as it hides a rainbow,
and watch an iridescent raindrop begin.
See storms in their infancy, sung to by thunder,
as flashes of lightning echo brilliant refrain.
To fly low over mountains bathed in lavender;
watch creeks meander lazily by mossy banks.
To gaze at tall forests of evergreen and quaking aspen;
see meadows of wildflowers, fields of spun gold.
To watch night's different shades then choose black satin,
and be awed by dawn's brush of colorful pastels.
To admire many planets and sit among luminous stars.
To find our blue Earth and see how tiny we are.
June 2, 2022
Free Verse.
My heart remains asleep, until you touch it... (poet)
You are the most' enigmatic existence,'
which will never be mine.
I remain a million waves away,
trying to make beauty from your scars.
Love is a reflective remedy in a world
veiled behind hateful hallucinations.
Envious eyes are an enemy
in episodes of egression.
As you are a mistress of midnight,
and I, a dahlia rejoicing in daylight.
To the one who has composed an
enchanted poem with silken whispers,
concealed within the silent
chambers of my sentiments,
lets go to a place where we can engrave
our own molten bronze memoirs,
where death can never keep us apart.
An eternal paradise for just me and you,
where the hidden passages of unheard chapters,
no longer remain unspoken and untouched.
Kiss me like moonlight on meadows,
caressing each blade of my oasis
in shimmering, silvery sensations.
Knowing my memories will appear
at dawn, in the form of dewdrops.
When aroused embers emerge,
uncontrollable words flow on virgin fibers,
as each intimate beat of hypnotic hearts,
floats along psychedelic paths of harmony,
where perpetual petals blossom like rainbows.
Heavenly scents scintillate senses,
as glittering butterflies float like our souls,
with shadows of satin stars serenading
our spellbound, sensual, sparkling spirits,
in realms with breathless nights and
velvet sighs echoing like lulling lullabies.
Each scribe springs into life in vivid visions,
like a divine dance, easing us into a tranquil trance.
A place called forever, illustrating immortal vows,
overwhelming like a Michelangelo masterpiece,
outliving the breaths of time in pristine clarity.
you dismantled my
wisteria-covered walls,
unraveling my defenses
like frayed silk...
my nights are now
painted with your kisses
soft as twilight spilling
across an oasis
in an Arabian desert...
I am lost in the
reminiscence of your rays~
the taste of sunbeams
sweet yet sharp citrus
tantalizing my tongue ...
the warmth lingering
long after the moonlight
on meadows that have faded...
but beneath this bliss
breathe a
lagoon of lemonade lies
where truth dissolves
in the tang of deceit
in the form of a mirage
as the veil slips
my exposed heart~
now bearing the
embroidery of your poetry
subtly sewn in
demure damask hues~
feels each word
as a poking plunge
of the needle
weaving through
the fabric of my being
binding me to
the memories we’ve created...
yet with every stitch,
I wonder if I am adorned
or undone~
whether this beautiful façade
Is a gift
or a curse,
f o r e v e r
trapped in
this poisonous paradise...
Dancing in a moonlit meadow makes me feel alive.
~ Poet
Sunlight surrenders the sky when night takes hold,
offering tiara and throne to the moon's glow of gold.
Luminous Luna, beautifully and regally she bestows
moonlight over flowering fields, heaths and meadows.
Paradisical and placid is the night to a stargazer like me,
where moonbeams of light resemble fine lace filagree.
The celestial orb shines across the evening's expanse.
Around her stars glisten as if partnering her in a dance.
A fragrant floral perfume wafts along on a gentle breeze
and sweet-scented magnolia blooms decorate the trees.
The calm is comforting, and the world seems less stressed
each night when moonlight shines over mountain crests.
I linger in the tranquility of earth's empyrean embrace,
admiring the black velvet canvas of boundless space.
I feel the need to be grateful for such gracious treasures
that soothe my soul when I enjoy these cosmic pleasures.
When the ruler of tides reigns and I am unable to sleep,
I hear nightingales trilling somewhere in darkness, deep.
Their sweet songs are a serenading symphony to my ears,
a lilting lullaby telling me there is nothing I should fear.
I'm in absolute awe while gazing at nocturnal splendors,
never taking for granted what God so lovingly renders.
Sonnets have been written by poets smitten to compose
verses about the majesty of moonlight on the meadows.
In Dreams, We Danced In Flowered Meadows
I wrote you, yet only to find silence
cast into shadows were clear sun once beamed
Was hiding so far away your defense
from my love that saddened earth and sky screamed
Where moonlight once graced our united stars
now empty sky holds its long, darkened veils
Polishing my hope, I ignore these scars
sending me through nights, red-hot burning hells
Stay alive, if need be wait in shadows
my heart endures, that Fate may give relief
In dreams, we danced in flowered meadows
WE AGAIN LOVE AND DEAR LIFE HOLDS NO GRIEF!
Writing you, to rekindle love's fire
upon ashes of its funeral pyre
R. J. Lindley
Feb. 23rd, 1975
Poem Syllable Counter Results
Syllables Per Line: 10 10 10 10 0 10 10 10 10 0 10 10 10 10 0 10 10
Total # Syllables: 140
Total # Lines: 17 (Including empty lines)
Words with (syllables) counted programmatically: N/A
Total # Words: 105
Down in the meadows the sound of a calling lark
is filling my ears with melodious sounds of beauty
He heralds Autumn's arrival with his brave chirps
and as his tinkling notes summon up the sunrise,
he sings this mellifluous song of old for me ;
The hour changes everything from hue to hue
as I sit on that log that once held our beating hearts;
As a butterfly lands on a maple tree I am suddenly
reminded, of your Autumn gait;
I could almost see your face again
as each hour melts into a contemplative musing.
There in the cross horizon of that beautiful meadow,
the lark quietly flies away leaving me with
indescribable thoughts of you.
December 22, 2022
Sponsor Eve Roper
Contest Name Still-Life Autumn Scene
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Where meadows flush with hints of rose
Soft lavender and amber wild
That blossoms drop their silhouettes ,
Against a moonbeam's afterglow .
This regal glint carries me high
From meadow lush to summer's grace
When nothing but Luna divine
Mirrors through treetop's lambent view.
And the floral pageant ensues
Hints exploding on prairies' trail
While moonglow streams...eve's alchemy;
My heart enticed, its rapture flown!
How glory of May's lune bequiles
Enkindling inner dance and sway;
Within these soulful reveries
My prayers greet such night,bewitched.
*When Dawn drifts into enchanted meadows,
listen to the choruses of birds’ song.
Feel on your skin the wind that softly blows.
Hear the crickets too which with birds chirp along.
Right before Dawn has arrived, maybe she
will paint the sky with orange, and I know
sometimes you might be fortunate to see
Dawn bringing to the landscape a warm glow.
Lay yourself down on grass. See sky change blue.
To be enchanted, meadows have flowers.
Wild, they’ll be dancing when a breeze blows through.
Enjoy their beauty in the morning hours.
Before it gets too hot, come with me. We’ll gaze
at clouds that shift like magic as we laze.
*(based on line 5 given by Joseph May)
THE MEADOWS
A soft gentle breeze flows through the quite meadows
as the birds and butterflies joyfully sing and dance,
The perfect scene for you and I
The perfect scene for romance.
With all of our troubles set aside
with no worries on our minds,
The meadows seem to have adopted us
we have become as one of their kind.
So much peace, so much freedom
so much joy
We both entered these meadows as adults
But have now become a little girl and a boy.
"Sing" she says to me,
"for the birds shall sing with you"
"dance" I say to her,
"and the butterflies will too."
Vashon Memories
A song to sing itself –
A birthing voice,
Shouting then whispering
Of fields and quiet harbors
Of blackberries and sunlight on smooth waters,
Of boredom, rest and restlessness
In tidal pools
Hunting hermit crabs and limpets,
Sticking on all fingers,
Avoiding jelly fish and barnacles
When pigtails and freckles
Fly through misty bracken fern,
Evergreen Madrone leaves,
Hemlock and the Douglas fir
Shading meadows
Of green apple trees,
Fat blackberries -
Huckleberries red and blue
Eluding nettles reaching out
To leave their sting
Then rest beside
Old logs
Wrapped in pitch
Stacked up by mischievous waves
To dot the shoreline
With drifting wood
Of mysterious shapes
On pebbled sands
Warmed in the welcomed sunlight
And drink in afternoon tea
Steeped in curiosity.
My grandparents had a summer home on Vashon Island. We would spend several weeks on the island during the summer.