Best Sage Poems
The mustard seed
a wild mustard seed took flight
carried aloft in gathering light
over thistle'd sage and poppies
in countless colorful copies
as brash rain showers subside
the retreat of angry clouds abide
scolded by the Northern wind
in search of infinity's final end
once barren hills, now painted gold
snow geese forage with fledgling fold
amid the flutter of swallowtail's wings
from soil sprouted seedling life brings
'til once more mustard's children are blown
from heaven's heights the earth is sown
~~~Dedicated to my Uncle Joe~~~
The breeze annoying trees entices me,
I drift away afar to fields abloom,
with silver tongues untied their whispers free—
..ah prairie-weed does burn a sweet perfume.
The flowered spikes do strike a reminisce,
the musky scent upon each purple spear…
your kiss, our bliss… you I miss… you I miss—
I fall upon each heady spear, despite the golden air.
The gilt-edged frills and thrills of summer days— that flutter!
The guilt-wedged sway and suede of lusty meadow sage.
The jilted sun, once young, still shines above the haze— that clutter…
an unfledged page from when we came of age.
I linger lone and lost and loathe the lure of wind
as fuzzy leaves flaunt drizzle beads beneath the clouds chagrined.
*Oh babe, we now have three beautiful children that we admire
*We've fought through pain , we've fought to build our dreams , our love was never tired
*We lived like we wanted to be , two united souls, with our emotions growing higher
*But you became too weak my love when you suppose to be strong
*You've forgot who you are , who I am and every little memory that tied you to me
*Alzheimer's hurt you so bad but I never gave up , stood by your side in every second and I'll stay like this till my last breath
*Before you forget me again and have no more clue, before your memories go bare
*I tell you our story every day, so I can only have some minutes with you, 5 minutes from the memories we used to share
*But God is too kind, and allowed our desires to weave
*Our last wish we had it right babe , we started this life together and together we shall leave
*We held each other so tight , we closed our eyes and our souls started to make love in the air
*Our last breaths flew together, holding hands as the best pair-
*And United in God's heaven
*Together we came and together we left, since we started to love, our heart's got woven
*Mine beat for you and yours for me, whether we're on earth or in heaven you'll be my babe
*My one and only , my dream that came true
*I'll always give you all of me and I'll wait for you to give me all of you
*I know in heaven you'll remember who I am, and forever we will be glued
The 2 parts of the notebook poem is inspired by the notebook movie .
OF SAGE LEAVES AND SWEET FLOWERS…
While flowers may be deemed
The sweetness of nature and life,
It is the leaves of her trees that are
The essences of life, death, and rising:-
It is the leaves of the tree
That feeds and nourishes her;
That ensures her branches’ bearings;
Photosynthesizing her peace and love:-
While living flowers are plucked,
Vase-like buried, and housed until death,
They are later thrown away—forgotten.
But fallen leaves reflect resurrection:-
Yes, in nature, trees shed their shading blades
And for a while, stoically stand in nakedness;
Piercing skyward to the coming resurrection
Of their green and rainbow colored leaves.
Thus, I’d rather be a leaf than a flower;
All trees bear leaves; but all don’t flower.
Leaves—nature’s resurrection symbols;
Her saged bristlecone pine allegories:-
*From the day your eyes threw a spell on me, i became yours
*You rejected me many times, but dear, I never gave up ,
*I knew that it's our destiny to be for each other, I was sure
*you were too rich and I was too poor
*but that couldn't stop me from loving, oh how I pine
*Time by Time, your heart started to lay down next to mine
*We fell in love so hard , with so much sweet intoxicating passion , our love was so divine
*Your mother built high sloppy mountains between us
*Mountains that she thought we won't be able to climb, because I was a mere country boy,
*So I let go of you , not 'cause I was a quitter , not 'cause my desires came less, no
*I was leaving to make a better life for you and me, so-
*there will be a garden for you and me to live in tomorrow
*You left town so soon and I never had the chance to apologize for our last fight , never had the chance to tell you how much I love you for one last time
*Yes I never had the chance to say goodbye,
*Sent you so many love letters but never saw a reply
*With a blink of an eye I saw-
*Your moon face and then you disappeared
*Thought you forgot about me, forgot my love and moved on
*Searched for you , lost hope but my love-tamed heart felt you so near
*And absolutely near you were, but your heart wasn't pumping for me , you were with a fancy fiancee that your mother liked over there
*I've bought the house of our dreams, our heaven, the one we made love in , it was so pretty just like we imagined it would be
*And in my heart, I strongly wished you could see
*Before your wedding, a fortune for our undisputable love, you saw my picture in the news paper and your heart started to scream
*Ran away so fast from your nightmare, and you came to my lap for another warm hold, with passion that beam
*You refreshed your love for me, and my love never went any less, only stronger as burning flames
*We made love and talked for hours -
*you knew that our hearts still belong to each other, our lips pine with such power
*And our desires climbed up the roof
*You thought I haven't sent you anything not even a little word , without knowing that your mom deprived you from the 337 letters that I've wrote to you
*You were so angry but I've calmed you down and held you tight , told you the truth
When all of youth flees
and even the whitest eye reddens, rheums,
words, fair words, dispel the gloom.
When hands are mapped with age and knurled,
still, they transform the page, the eye, the cage,
for where words flow, the mind goes,
to the pristine smiles and
the smooth curves which once were
yours, your cheek, your neck, your hip.
Deny me anything but the word
for it’s magic will soon be all that remains
of fleeting youth.
Oh
hermit,
we have heard
that you have seen,
that which is unseen,
namely the face of God
and that too in broad daylight,
so with folded hands, we request
you to please teach us all the practice,
following which, we too may see the light.
Dear soul, the path to follow is pathless,
appearing on its own when we seek
with a pure heart, in childlike trust,
making mindful every touch,
seeing God’s light in all
for that is the truth,
so recognised
in the cave
of our
heart.
When I was young the broom sage grew so tall
It towered over me, fuzzy tickling
Right there in front of momma harvesting
Harvesting just enough sage for a broom
Broom sage to sweep the hearth clean of debris
A hearth white washed with Georgia kaolin
Nothing to cover the dirty black sooted bricks
In summer even the inside was white washed
Taller now towering over the sage
Whose sick sparse shoots reach up to claim sunlight
Purple hues shimmer in breeze, wait for spring
Renewed to live again, again, again
Like sage cut, fashioned into a hearth broom
Life is short, wears away the youthful joy
Soon the end in sight, retired to kindling
Laid down upon the white washed inside brick
Awaiting morn when a spark will ignite.
A roaring fire will spring forth ablaze
While all the family gathers around
Warmed by the hearth of a happy snug home
Written:December 9, 2015
Definition of Blank Verse
Blank verse is a literary device defined as un-rhyming verse written in iambic pentameter. In poetry and prose, it has a consistent meter with 10 syllables in each line (pentameter); where, unstressed syllables are followed by stressed ones and five of which are stressed but do not rhyme. It is also known as un-rhymed iambic pentameter.
•Blank verse poetry has no fixed number of lines.
•Blank verse can be composed in any kind of meter, such as iamb, trochee, spondee and dactyl
I chose this form because I did not want to rhyme..
Aged Osage;
twisting, turning,
tentacled specter of the soil;
centuries of thrills, you have seen.
Gnarly old fingers,
still reach for brother sun’s embrace
and you share your elation freely.
Stories told in limb and bough,
are road maps through time;
I see that history,
can hide nothing from you.
I listen to your whispers;
I hear your songs,
on the tempestuous winds.
What a study in tolerance you are!
Arthritis specter in the moonlight;
Story teller of old;
I visit and am inspired.
Trees, like humans, have wisdom to share
and tell their stories to those,
willing to listen and learn.
An education is found in every tiny seed.
Random thoughts flutter across a page
And take shape in verses of expression
Reflecting the notions of the poet/sage.
While the actor repeats upon the stage
Phrases acting out playwright’s impression
Random thoughts flutter across a page.
Both painting portraits of love and rage
In concise words, the writer’s profession,
Reflecting the notions of the poet/sage.
Visually the reader will absorb, engage,
Theatergoers easily observe the passion
Random thoughts flutter across a page.
Poets create images like a bird in a cage
Their poems coming in and out of fashion,
Reflecting the notions of the poet/sage.
The value of writers the public will gauge
Sometimes without the proper caution
Random thoughts flutter across a page
Reflecting the notions of the poet/sage.
Written May 13, 2022
#51 on the BEST POEMS LIST
June 12, 2022
I have no wish to partner with armor making my defenses sharper –
it is spiritual truth I seek to garner.
I choose to never deliberately hush any moments passing brush –
but try absorbing its full blush.
I strive to never miss night’s surrender as her curtain unfolds tender –
flaring my sense of splendor.
I retain my dreams with no border or restrictive list for order –
to nurture even as I grow older.
I will not abandon laughter as one sure inner joy crafter –
well worth sharing and looking after.
I shall never avoid emotional pain or swallow their teary refrain –
though I refuse to tote their stain.
I decline to record my mistakes on any lined journal page -
errors serve my life's as my sage.
walk slow and light my feet
to the corner of my time
where my best self is dwelling,
waiting to be claimed as mine.
White Sage
Date: 2/7/2016 5:13:00 PM
You need not ask James. Poetry is built of words that touch, words which the body feels, which the tongue taste and such beauty the eyes feast on, a path the fingers walk....and you've portrayed such excellence in your poems dear one.
Poetry is built
Of words that touch, words which the
Body feels and feels.
Words the tongue does taste
And such beauty eyes feast on
Path the fingers walk.
You dearly portrayed
Such excellence in your poems
Dear one you have done.
Thank you the real, true dear one, White Sage.
Jim Horn
When we sat together,
we whispered almost as one,
not as conspirators,
but as mentor and acolyte,
and you spoke of things that I did not comprehend
yet with words that I knew were true.
You warned me of a chimera,
I've fallen prey to several since.
When we stood counter,
we opposed one another's reason,
not as equals,
but as victor and vanquished,
and you spoke of things that I could not escape
and with words that I could not refute.
You warned me of your power,
I still dare not deny.
And I may have known at once,
or I may have known at last,
that you were The Emperor's Sage
and I was the jester's cur.
26th August 2018
There’s a desert sage northwest of here
In a town called Sugarville,
Not on the top of a mountain
Nor even a humble hill.
This sage lives on the desert floor
Where the ring-neck roosters prattle,
Where rabbits hide in the rabbit brush
And the prairie rattlers rattle.
I would walk five miles on wounded feet
Just to spend an afternoon
And listen to wisdom, free of spin,
Out there in the desert dunes.
For this sage sees life as life unfolds;
The dross refused as we progress.
She knows there are no perfect flowers,
But loves them none-the-less.
No agenda; just the truth!
And we listen all the more,
And count it fortune she is here;
This sage on the desert floor.
“as we passed her she did wilt
which caused in us sense of guilt
since our stance perhaps did cause
to put her heart’s joy on pause
though we’re gentle, not hostile
we diminished her soul’s smile
since our aura as she viewed
scent of love did not exude” —Unseeking Seeker
the passersby wailed in laughter
with a blink of an eye she sought the here after
prompting hatred she'd rid and had been
gone the sun's soul beaming within
left are the pieces contusion once dealt
exemplification deep purple, blue/black welt
anticipating that it is all in the imagination
innuendo scorns, undertones as intimidation
the nuances of facial expression and body language
an undercurrent hides beneath an open bridge
the windy storm blows farther its opaque steam
whilst whispering mantras gently stream
uttering phonemes begin and she softly chants
deep breaths balm lofty thoughts further enhance
‘I choose and listen how my inner voice druthers,
and not the random opinions of others’
forgiveness is the fragrance the violet sheds—perfume
on the heel that has crushed it, where sweet aromas loom