Best Ponds Poems
POND LIFE
White water lily rooted deep
Profusive alba in flora peep;
Over the surface,upside down
Waterboatman-nature's clown.
Spiders spin their bubbled bell
Close to a ramshorn in crimson shell;
Stick insects,two inches long
Feed midst a tumultuous throng;
Mosquitoes,midges and water fleas
Breed ' neath the shade of willow trees;
Rush,sedge in tall loose strife
In open ponds that team with life.
re-post from | Year Posted 2007
Dingy dusty neglected nic-nacs~
weary weather brings dreary downs once again,
but I must move to lighten up
those shadowed corners creeping in on life~
cleansing clean makes glass glisten
like dreaming dewdrops in sunrise sun,
or lovely lotus on peaceful ponds.
A Billion Ponds
----------------
I came to the land of a billion ponds
where they said there would be (one day) a million more.
A billion ponds shimmered in sunsets;
lined up purposefully for my delight.
A billion birds or more perished on these ponds
and they made twilight unbearable for me,
these billion birds on the trillion million ponds.
So I went away from ponds - all of them - far from the million,
or was it a trillion - the numbers in my head...
I went away from them and all the birds
but tweet of them on Twitter to the millions, (who forget).
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3/17/2019
One, two
Spirits
Entwined
Side by side
Alone
Yet together
Not identical
Fraternal
Reflections
Images floating
Starry skies
Pond leaves
Debris
Covers
Bright colors
Masking Intentions
Rain falling
Uncovering
Veins of love
Stem to tip
Floating
Stopping
Pond's edge
Embracing
Moonlit Ponds
the moon's reflection
stirs in the pond as ripples
gather around us
so close we're breathing as one
' till our eyes meet I can't breathe
looking at the moon
holding each other tightly
the whispering wind
breathes our secret to the trees
and laughs ripples on the pond
my fever rages
as a hot caldron burning
you have bewitched me
my spellbound heart skips like stones
jumping on the moonlit pond
deborah burch©
5/26/2012
to cyndi because inquiering minds wanted to know...now duck ...quick! LOL
sweet rainy season
alike voice of toads in ponds
no sound when dried up
I am so very tired
Of death so endured,
Of people winning races
And sickness being cured.
I grow so cold
Of these repetitive pleas.
Their meaningless exasperations
And every cliche deed.
I'm hating all the rhymes
And metaphors inside
With bitterness for blinds
Who wish only to be deaf.
I'm sinking in these poems
Of love that only roams
To find one puzzled home
Of a love that never loved.
We're all just too the same
For playing time old games
Of pretending to be tame
When our lives are all a bore.
Our secrets slightly scheme
Our sinning souls be not redeemed.
Our lies are ripping at the seams
Of the masks we comfortably wear
On a clouded blurry web site
Where we pretend to feel so bare.
Along the blood road there are thousands of ponds.
Carved out by American bombs.
A futile attempt to blast communism
into the next millennium.
It'll take a hundred years to remove
unexploded ordinances.
Children mistake them for shiny toys.
Every day is black Christmas for children
who play along the blood road.
The metal from war doesn't go to waste.
The skin of bombs is made into skiffs.
That putter around the delta mist.
Some taking in round-eyed tourists...
Who're eager to see how a poor communist lives.
More often than not they'll be invited into a hut
provided a humble, heartfelt meal.
Sometimes by a widowed one-armed matriarch.
Today, the blood road is being devoured by jungle.
Natives still slave over rice paddies.
Just like they have for a thousand years.
And will for a thousand years more.
Some of the bomb ponds hold trapped fish
where villagers toss hopeful nets...
and who said war is good for nothing?
solunar evening
serene azure beckoning ~
stirrers of the deep
(August Full Moon – Great Lakes and Lake Champlain)
Sail with me my darling!
Let’s ride on golden ponds,
Our summer times are ending
Winters far too long
Twilight years are mooring
Memories floating high,
Hand in hand we’ll travel
Through sunsets beyond the sky
Guided through every ripple
Destiny in our eyes,
Love will always remember,
Years that had drifted by,
Boat rides will continue,
In tomorrow’s paradise,
There we’ll see the Loon birds,
Kiss our final goodbye,
We’ll ride this final journey,
As we start to wonder why,
All our beautiful memories
Never to say goodbye
Only to kiss eternity,
On golden ponds, we die.
04/06/16
Ducks from all over
have come to Lowell
ponds for the diving
championship of the pond.
As I watch so many
of them diving to
see who can stay
under the longest,
it will be a close
game, as they all
seem to be doing
fine job.
wrote 9-28-07
A humid day at Lowell ponds,
falling rain last night,
cleaned up nature's home.
Fresh air do I smell,
such clean water that
covers this pond.
A humid day in Colorado
is such a rare event,
more rain is on it's way.
So this pond will stay
clean for ducks, geese,
and fish to enjoy.
wrote 8-28-07
orphan tadpoles plead
home returning foreign birds
to come back so soon
07 October 2021
stable is its core
depth and width rarely change up
it guarantees life
Mere mire and quagmire,
not mere but more,
now it had turned dire,
I was splattered in face,
two particles,
came and plastered on cheeks,
they smelled and were crow black,
I was trying hard to get them off,
somebody in the while,
pushed me hard,
I fell deep and good,
in the mire pond,
that nearby stood,
now it was dire,
I was gasping for breath,
somebody had pulled it on me,
by fraud and stealth,
watch out for such pushers,
they are abound,
mostly they are found,
doing quagmire rounds,
its not that they have not been inside,
you would be surprised to know,
that they live in such quagmire ponds,
and come out for victims doing rounds.