Best Recycles Poems
II. Nature's Cyclical Dance
End is not death. Changing into something new is good.
A leaf falls, then goes back into the dark soil.
Next year's flowers sleep under winter's quiet.
We fear the end, but nature shows us it's not bad.
Death is a new start.
My Anishinaabe mentor Little Deer laughed at my wide eyes.
That first forest walk, as he plucked a bright trillium —
"Cherish her fleeting beauty, but mourn her not, my friend.
This flower's death will birth a thousand more to come."
His people know life dances on; death is rebirth.
I hear them now. Those ancient voices riding wind's breath.
They speak through birch and pine... calling me back to the way —
Honoring and not fearing, the seasons' turning tides.
Each dawn's first birdsong and each brook's gentle murmuring
Echoing the rhythm pulsing through this wild...
and wondrous earth.
Let me join this cycle, rooted but free.
I'll welcome death and the return of life.
Like the forest floor, decay and new growth mix.
With every breath, I'll connect with the source.
This cycle of life, death, and being born again is a gift.
----
"The Sacred Forest, a Nurturing Mother, never lets life die, / But reclaims, recycles, and rebirths in her eternal lullaby." - Daniel Henry Rodgers
Categories:
recycles, earth, environment, native american,
Form:
Free verse
Waters edge
gator lies
raccoon gets
big surprise!
In forest
something hides
bird on branch
with two
slit eyes...
Unsuspecting
no cry
empty branch
lump inside!
Snake digesting
waterside
hungry croc
snake inside!
Swimming salmon
seeking spawn
searing pain
bears claw!
Plants decay
feeding ground
newborn sprouts
spring abounds.
Life’s cycle
ever green
it recycles
everything.
Life’s cycle
circles ‘round
all life
feeds ground.
Categories:
recycles, life, nature, poems, poetry,
Form:
Rhyme
'down, down, down into the darkness of the grave
gently they go, the beautiful, the tender, the kind' -
Edna St Vincent Millay
In
Vastness
We shall lie
At peace, beneath
Mountains of moonbeams
No servants or masters
Equal bells, everlasting
Shackles of suffering release
Over celestial bridges, where the
Cosmos recycles our souls in stardust.
5/21/20
For 'Etheree' contest
Sponsor: Dear Heart
Categories:
recycles, appreciation, death, paradise, peace,
Form:
Etheree
Caterwauling winds
Force the once settled landfills far
Soil erosion starts
Settling so far out of bounds
To then dwindle down some again!
….didee © TANKA
Earth imploding ‘noted’
creation, environment, moon, morning, nature, night, science,
Three Strung Tanka Poems
Fished from science scales to date
Attention everyone
Demise for man’s brutal act
Will make a big blast!
didee© TANKA
Seasons change forever
No man needs worry today
Moonshine calls the tides
Morning brings up the sunrise
And evening spreads sunsets
….didee©TANKA
Moon segments abide tidal waves
Seasons brings changed weather casts
Sun dries all the wet again
And clouds bring on the rainfall
Earth recycles do you?
….didee©TANKA
Categories:
recycles, creation, environment, moon, morning,
Form:
Tanka
~September of remembrance to savor, after grueling August drought,
~Ever so pleasing, such as enjoying just one rain spout.
~Priming is timing an equinox change, adjusting period format,
~Timing is crucial as squirrels scamper about storing their winter’s fat.
~Enormous are the compose piles in back yards and the wilds,
~Major rich habitat, create images of squirming earth worm smiles.
~But yes, four seasons for good reason change human attitude,
~Enough recycles, and change rearrange human habitude.
~Remembering the equinox of fall, expressing to Creator some gratitude.
In Honor of Carol Brown
And Contest: Fall is Just Around The Corner
Categories:
recycles, nature, change,
Form:
Acrostic
Simple Step In Beauty
Passion flower towers at the crown of a radical Hippies’ heart revolution in waiting
blossoms for such longing deep sensual trust freedom justice compassion to prevail
Opens closes unlatches the moment past future spins memories for contemplating
of what to hold dear whom where and when cycles keep spinning on dialectical scale
From root to blossom up towards down from equality empowerment and social exclusion
love can be synthesized smelt scented with fragrance aroma communal power infused
When ‘Passiflora’ is lived and ‘ en-lived’ ‘en-storied’ to the meaning essence’s restitution
condensed ‘ad integrum’ oozing emotion reason strength determination dis-confused
I am a dreamer idealist so my favourite flower recycles in truth and all magic seasons
it grows and weaves amorous bouquets bunches and hunches inter-webbed branches
No strings no inequality no tyranny of hierarchy attached no spider web of treason
marque demarcate marginalize but complement resolve hypocrisy oppositional tranches
My flower reaches for nature for fusion not terror domination colonisation of minds
wishes to swift and sift gently the torments thunders blunders ring in winds of change
make love and not wars intercourses in slow rhyming rhythm in place and overall time
If we all cherished this flower we ‘d be more peaceful and turn anger to guardian’s ‘ange’
08th August
ABAB CDCE EFEF GHGH
Categories:
recycles, peace,
Form:
Rhyme
THE TIDES OF TIME
Willy nilly the aging process
Smooths and recycles the sharp edges of life
And re-sorts our big troubles and small.
The ebb and flow of time - irresistible,
Repetitive, constructive, destructive -
Cleans the rubble-strewn
Patch of our life,
Rounds and makes regular each grain,
Filling in holes, combing each strand
To form a smoother pattern until
Seniority brings serenity,
And the tempests of hot temper
Abate, to be replaced by
More clement elements.
Our older, smoother, rounded
Patch of firmament
Must needs fit more firmly
Into the cycle of life,
For the tides of time wait for no man.
Categories:
recycles, age, life,
Form:
Imagism
The community cemetery adjoined
the rear fence-line of his property.
Broad, rolling green acres landscaped
with varieties of shrubbery and trees.
Monuments in lines, rows, and diagonal patterns.
Most of them simple, monolithic.
Carvings, etchings, and brief epitaphs
carved in granite or marble
The stones, like spring's green leafed
trees and fresh-cut grass, know the seasons.
They awake to the sun each dawn; grow
shadowed, docile, meditative at twilight.
Nature recycles around them by annum.
Precious stele' standing their post eternal,
while the invisible substance of air smoothes
each carving and etching ever so covertly.
Mornings he would sit, steaming coffee mug in hand,
reflecting on the tranquility of the sentinel stones.
He envisioned the markers being books
to be leafed through, revealing life
from the mundane to the ecstatic.
A few concave or convex letters and numbers
carved in stone could never convey a person's
full saga in time. The humanity of a life.
Those things their blood had seen, felt, or known.
The ranks of headstones still stand guard.
He sips hot black coffee and imagines reading
the story inside each book of stone;
opening each, as one gently peruses
the pages and content of a rare, precious book.
Books Etched in Stone
5-28-15
Free Verse
Categories:
recycles, appreciation, memory, remember,
Form:
Prose Poetry
Growing old, like quartz and diamonds, the human being occludes.
The trials of life, leave cracks in the soul; grind the body back to dust.
All life recycles, in life after life; we all give back.
Categories:
recycles, poems, poetry, power,
Form:
Sijo
The
magnificent
swan, a
symbol
of love
and of
loyalty.
Juxta- posed
against its own nest built
of weeds, old plastic bags, plastic
bottles and discarded diapers. The
splendor of the natural Earth:
man's bottomless-well of
inspiration is being
destroyed daily: polluted and poisoned because we want
more stuff we can throw away at the expense of
the stuff we’ve always treasured.
While, the swan recycles.
What are we doing?
06/17/15
Entry for Contest: Stuff
Hosted by: Thomas Martin
Categories:
recycles, addiction, earth, nature, simple,
Form:
Shape
September, a moment to savor after grueling August drought,
a season of pleasing, such as giving just one rain spout.
Soon an equinox change will adjust period format,
as squirrels scamper about storing their winter’s fat.
Leaves of compose piles in back yards and the wilds,
a rich habitat, create images of squirming earth worm smiles.
Shorter days meet to the changing phase of the equinox,
as one will adapt to nature’s way, setting back clocks.
A September to remember sure, enjoying nature’s clout,
a kind of precedent round to remind one, without a doubt.
Sacred principles in keeping good use of the fallowness,
of the coming winter’s splendor of the rest of Sabbath bliss.
Oh yes, four seasons for good reason change human attitude,
cycles of recycles, and change rearrange human habitude.
In Honor of: Brian Strand.
And Contest: September.
Categories:
recycles, nature, peace, change,
Form:
Couplet
R est my mind. Quiet my soul.
E mbattled. Tortured. Bitter.
S end me home where silence reigns,
E arthworms spin secrets and scars decompose.
T ime relieves, energy recycles ...reset
Categories:
recycles, death, freedom, growth, life,
Form:
Acrostic
A never ending task
over 4200 of them
we fire them
like Presidents
The secrets of eternity
change yourself
so that the universe
recycles you
for the butter
Categories:
recycles, art, christian, environment, fish,
Form:
Quatrain
A sad
miracle
of existence
in spite of our waste and
squander.
Our home
recycles
herself and cries
for complete renewal
and peace.
While we
reject our
first mandate to
care for and nurture all
of her.
*Cinqku: 2-3-4-6-2 syllables
*Meant for the Stuff contest (sponsored by Thomas Martin), but I was too late. :(
Categories:
recycles, creation, earth, environment, pollution,
Form:
Cinqku
Soul splinters,
divided like
shelter-halves
I played
army, for two years past.
Performing foreplay on self
gently stroking
temples
wondering what's next?
exploiting a perfect
opportunity
Dew recycles the
residual effects
of morning drizzle as
rain soaks a lover's skin
dark circles
protrude through
a silken blouse
Doused, rinsed
and cleansed,
baptized within
My mind wraps around
ideas, massaging
visions into fruition,
as I come to
I hear her faintly...
begging more than asking
"Can you feel me?"
As if my soul had splintered
in two and the center of me
became seed for you.
Yes, I feel the outskirts
and exact position
of a quickening pulse.
To a certain degree,
Fahrenheit and Celsius
couldn't compute
how thoughts of you
generate heat.
Take me the way
knights dance
around checkmate
I'll wait...
Categories:
recycles, how i feel, sexy,
Form:
Free verse