Best Thermals Poems
Roots and Dandelion Dreams: A Mother's Heart
- Daniel Henry Rodgers
Roots and Dandelion Dreams: A Mother's Heart
- Daniel Henry Rodgers
At dawn's first blush,
milkweed pods,
burst with a sigh,
A feathery shower of,
silk sending secrets...
on the wind's soft cry.
Yesterday they wore a crown of pink
Today they are set free;
like dandelion dreams floating on the vast sea
a thousand wishes taking flight.
I see you spinning gracefully
on dandelion fluff.
each strand like a
glowing thread
forming a halo.
Your laughter flows like
a babbling
brook over stones.
while your tears resemble mist
clinging to ferns in
the whisping breeze.
As twilight falls and fireflies twinkle
like scattered stars,
a new constellation is born.—
a flickering dance in the dimming light
as transient, as a summer evening.
In your eyes wild irises bloom
reflecting the evening sky as
they search for their fragrance.
Amidst meadowlarks songs
welcoming the dawn in morn.
my heart remains intertwined
with yours like a nurturing vine
that delves into the soil
forever connected to you.
You write the poetry of life
moments full of freedom.
Like a ballet of butterflies
a child experiencing wonder,
both wild and free.
No need,
for preaching!
just the melody of the wind
whispering through
the pine trees.
A communication,
a connection that binds eternally.
With patience engraved
in the face of mountains
I stand as a protector.
a sanctuary in this forests
intricate beauty.
While shadows dance in a transient
vanishing performance
My love stands firm like
a redwood sentinel enduring
all challenges.
In the settling of dusk,
where fireflies sparkle,
My presence is like a meadow
where bluebirds dream.
For you,
my child,
are a hawk,
on the wind's caress.
Soaring on thermals,
a spirit,
etched upon your face.
My heart,
a beacon's steady fire,
guiding,
through the unknown,
In this life's,
choreography,
bathed in your,
boundless exploration.
Mother
Sheltering, strong
Branches rustle tales
Roots grip the earth deep
Child
Categories:
thermals, heart, love, mothers day,
Form:
Ekphrasis
An unhurried sun slides across the horizon
Preparing for slumber behind distant waves
And daylight’s last seagull rides thermals in search
Of a late night fish supper - the herring he craves
A paint shop explosion enlivens the skies
As the sun doffs its cap to the tail end of day
That silhouette seagull, against crimson, flys
Before finally veering and heading away
As one with the beach and the shoreline beyond
I watch vibrant heavens succumb
To a darkness profound although I stick around
And I wait for tomorrow to come
The night has its chills but no hectic-life ills
As I feed my small campfire with sticks
One deck chair, one fire is all I desire…
And a thermos for my caffeine fix
There’s no moon, no stars and there’s no beachfront bars
The surf is my soundtrack tonight
I’ve seen moons and stars work with Venus and Mars
To set all above me alight
But tonight is unpainted and I get acquainted
With shadows that flicker and prance
As I recline there, amused, I’m aware
That the fire makes my own shadow dance
I don’t truly doze and a distant bell knows
That I count off its chimes in the night
And as the world sleeps, somewhere near, a bird cheeps
And I know that it soon will be light
I’ll witness the day and then scurry away
Through the hustle and bustle, to bed
Inspired, I’m rewired, and yet, rather tired
With my first chapter clear in my head
My thermos delivers one last warming cup
As a new dawn blue-rinses the grey
A seagull, perhaps who went last night unfed
Circles early for breakfast today
Categories:
thermals, beach, inspiration, sea, solitude,
Form:
Rhyme
As the weather softly turns
Beckoning in the Equinox
Clusters of colourful bulbs
Dance and sway in the breeze
Eagles swoop up on thermals
Flying high until they are specks
Golden feathers gleaming amid
Heather glowing white on the hills
Indigo skies with puffy clouds
Jutting into various shapes
Kale drift by lazily snapping flies
Luscious grasses adorn the meadows
Mushrooms appear nestled under trees
Nightingales sweetly sing in Spring
Osprey dive deep for fish
Plunging in time and again
Quaint old fashioned flowers
Radiant with rainbow colours
Spread rampant in the beds
Tulips dip and bow in greeting
Under the hosta's a dormouse lives
Velvet nose twitching the air
Watching out for birds of prey
Xanado bathed in sunshine highlights
Yellow buttercups which coat the ground as
Zenith of Spring soon now will fade away.
Categories:
thermals, spring,
Form:
Abecedarian
It’s been a long day beneath hot sun,
with sunset looming and daylight done,
came across water with a stand of trees,
deep in shadow with a zephyr breeze;
a perfect place to camp for the night,
joined by galahs in the fading light,
with swag rolled out near a cooking fire,
heating up a damper and then retire.
Stars like crystal light the outback sky,
way out here they don’t seem so high,
Dingoes howl beyond a red sand dune,
a mopoke hoots ‘neath a silver moon.
And through the night as I try to sleep,
the night feeders either call or creep,
could there be a pig or a kangaroo?
maybe a camel or an old emu.
Sunrise breaks on my morning camp,
The sky is lemon and leaves are damp.
I poke the ash and I grass the fire,
add kindling and the flames reach higher.
I hear the call of a warbling wren,
a butcherbird and a water hen.
There’s nothing better than bird song,
by a campfire near a billabong.
The billy boils for a cup of tea,
bacon and eggs sit upon my knee,
already the thermals are in the sky,
a wedge-tailed eagle is soaring high…
passing by with babbling words,
is a feeding family of apostle birds,
all quite content to stop for a chat,
as long as I feed them bacon fat.
Sunrise has lifted on my morning camp,
the suns’ in the sky, now nothing damp,
I roll my swag and I douse the fire,
with the campsite left as it was prior
for the budgerigar and the cockatoo,
or a flock of redrumps passing through.
I won’t see them for I’m on my way;
perhaps next year on another day.
Categories:
thermals, bird, nature,
Form:
Rhyme
The sun remains hidden behind a blanket of gray on this snowy winter afternoon. It doesn't matter. Gone for now are the playful sailors who dart about Salt Fork lake in better weather. The blackbirds caw from atop the old oaks that inhabit this place, their pleas echoing in the still and silence that surrounds us. Hawks circle high above in hopes of spotting prey, riding thermals like the leaves that softly ride the chilling wind. The cold feels invigorating and lets us know we are fully alive. Love is a celebration to be held during all of the four seasons, the seasons of the years of our lives. Time whooshes by and yet slows to a crawl when we are here, our respite from the storms of life. Today, and every day, we bow to our Maker and give thanks for the snippets of peace that make life tolerable, even enjoyable for a time. We are here. We are alive. We are in love. And the world is a little better place than it was yesterday.
living in the moment
watching the sparrows in peace
time stands still for two
Categories:
thermals, peace, romantic love,
Form:
Haibun
Rich marmalade clouds, sunset fades,
rooks dip and dive on thermals high;
wings flutter as the flock cascades.
Rich marmalade clouds, sunset fades
with golden hues of many shades,
dark shadows fly across the sky.
Rich marmalade clouds, sunset fades,
rooks dip and dive on thermals high.
Triolet Poetry Contest 160 Words or Less ' Contest Info
(47 words)
Contest sponsored by Caren Krutsinger
05~28~15
Categories:
thermals, sky, summer,
Form:
Triolet
Eagle flying high, just a dot in the sky
I fly in to join you and circle with you
together we take delight in plummeting down
then climbing back up to float on thermals
The landscape below shows trees the size of matches
individual flowers too small to see just splashes
of many different hues blending into each other
the steady wind ruffles my feathers as I tease you
Playing and courting we bond once more
and set about setting our eyrie to rights
high up on the steep jagged cliff top
any danger spotted miles away from this vantage point
I take turns with you sitting on our eggs
then off to hunt I soar searching for my prey
there down there a fat young rabbit grazes
I swoop down and now dinner daintily I eat
Replete I retire to the tree tops
and spread my wings basking in the sun
life is good so very good
soon the cycle restarts with my chicks
written 01/23/2013
Categories:
thermals, bird, nature,
Form:
Personification
In effortless glide
Amidst the invisible thermals
Air balloons do soar
Categories:
thermals, adventure, sports
Form:
Haiku
I climbed upon a gentle breeze
That drifted slow on tranquil seas
And played soft music , just to please
The anguish in my soul .
We floated south to turquoise skies
And danced on quilted clouds that rise
Which misty memories disguise
Their glories to extol .
And catching dawn's bright morning rays
Transforming night to amber haze
The chorus sang it's hymn of praise
And then , my day was whole .
Gliding high , above all harm
On thermals , soft , safe and warm
Guided by strong Angels arm
'Till the Sandman takes his toll .
Inspired by Catie's Lull-A-Bye Contest .
Categories:
thermals, fantasy
Form:
Rhyme
I sit and pause, looking at the sky blue ceiling above me. White vapour cotton wool clouds
gently float like water lilies on an upside down pond. My humble seat, an igneous rock
from the Devonian period. A glaciation past has moulded this comfort to rest this weary
climber. I am in fortunate delight as this skyscraper of old can turn nasty with nature.
These marvels can unite and lure unsuspected hikers, and draw them into a weather world
they have never known. The gulley's and faces of this quite wonderful Munro hide
challenges and dangers for all who dare climb. Many have been lost as they become
disorientated, as natures weather closes in.
The ascent route to the summit on a day like today is quite wonderful. The beauty of the
glens, with their sporadic mix of andesite and basaltic lava mountains, rival many a range
on our fine planet. Many colours explode on the surrounding canvas. Greens and beige's,
greys mingling with red granite masses. Screes are in evidence, a sign of the range ageing
as natures seasons take their toll. Plant life carpets the slopes, where grasses of sorts
mingle with the purple and white heather. Ferns from a prehistoric age fan out catching
the breeze, like Sea´ ferns´ in the ocean.
As i climbed, at various intervals i would close my eyes and listen to the calls of the
wild. The sporadic bleating of sheep, as if echoing through the glens. Crows and their
hooded cousins fly sorties looking for carrion of such. Suddenly they scatter, as royalty
makes a welcomed appearance. As majestic as the King of the mountains can be, a Golden
Eagle glides on the thermals. His subjects looking on from a distance, for fear of
angering him. Rabbits, lizards and even sheep and lambs, bow down in whatever chambers of
safety allows them. As graceful as he arrived, he leaves. Slowly but slowly, the lookouts
of the species declare their haven a safe zone.
This climb has certainly given me a thirst, as the thinned mountain air leaves me tired.
Nearby a small stream offers a weary climber a much needed tonic. This pure fresh
translucent chemical substance quenches my crave, with a gentle splash over my sun beaten
face, i feel refreshed to a point.
http://www.thehighlanderspoems.com/scotland-3.php
Categories:
thermals, animals, inspirational, nature, places,
Form:
Free verse
The False Dichotomy of My
Descent...
Falling,
beyond the precipice,
into this gaping chasm.
Numbness ensues,
whirling emptiness,
swirling around and around,
in the recesses of my mind,
as it plummets,
in silent freefall.
My choices are stark,
hit rock bottom,
eyes open,
splitting into fragments,
left strewn across the canvas of
loss.
Or,
shutting my eyes,
descending into oblivion,
exhaling as the valley of sorrow
reaches up,
claiming me as its own.
But,
I choose to glide,
floating on thermals of hope,
settling deep in the bowels,
of this desolate grave,
to begin anew,
free from the fiction of truth,
to live, to love, once more,
no longer an accomplice,
and never again, a slave.
Categories:
thermals, introspection
Form:
i wander these winter beaches
where autumn's storms
have removed the footfalls of summer
believing in spring
here i am alone listening
to the waves mellifluously remind
yet never recalling
floating the river Lethe
alone where the frigates soar above
pelicans traversing the waves
the terns work the receding water
i am the intruder
waves erasing my past
placing before me rearranging sands
paths never worn
only the belief in spring
with each step forward
i wonder if the gulls see
my past being removed, the future
dependent upon some wave
fortune or contretemps
i wonder if the gulls feel
this surreal gull glides, turns, drift
upon grateful wings
grateful to those who long ago
gave freedom to thought from hunger
the plight of thought
the flight of thought
freeing this surreal gull to wander in wonder
i wander here keeping the dream alive
faith it will evolve into more
some empyreal dictate
some Newtonian machine
there is a numen to winter beaches
here i can laugh with humanity, smile
the hubris belief this can be destroyed
changed yes, but so may volcanoes, asteroids
none of which has a brain
here i can believe that dreams
will be given to reason, logic
and end to war and peace on earth
that there is nothing fatal
even science cannot deny
these rearranging sands and time
will produce another poet wandering, wondering
i wander these winter beaches
where autumn's storms
have removed the footfalls of summer
knowing sunrise, sunset, and spring returns
i am alone, yet far from alone
i am home
where dreams glide, turn, drift
soaring in the thermals of thought
the flight of belief
terminus ad quem
terminus a quo
Playa Del Rey 91 The Patient Stones
Categories:
thermals, solitude, winter,
Form:
Free verse
Sol hung in the western sky,
in the western sky Sol hung,
like a dead man on a rope
when dying time has come.
Watch how you tread in the desert,
in the desert watch how you tread,
the vultures soar high on the thermals
as they seek out the dying and dead.
Take water to drink on your journey,
on your journey take water to drink,
there's a lack of sweat, on that you can bet,
but you've dried out more than you think.
Plant your feet with care when walking,
when walking plant your feet with care,
the horse crippler cactus is waiting
to take you unawares.
Pass by the brush with caution,
with caution pass by the brush,
the diamondback lounges in shadows
but his strike comes on with a rush.
Disturb not the stones on your travels,
on your travels disturb not the stones,
a scorpion may surprise you,
their sting goes down to your bones.
All is not dread in the wasteland,
in the wasteland all is not dread,
but vultures fly high on the thermals
as they wait one and all to be fed.
All is not death in the desert,
in the desert all is not death,
beauty enough for the seeker
to take away their breath.
Categories:
thermals, travel,
Form:
Rhyme
You capture me tightly, like a trance,
enrapturing me, from very first glance,
excuse me, may I have this dance?
And who knows? Maybe a chance,
it could all end in sweet romance?!
Holding your hand, on strolls through the coast,
one pleasure to treasure, I'd enjoy the most,
Life dreams into you, as if by remote,
whilst I've got these words stuck in my throat,
screaming for you, higher than thermals, these babies float.
You centre me towards my zone,
to capture each word, make it my own,
farming seeds of thought re-grown,
Our intimate workings, each are knowing,
ensures raging rivers of lust are flowing,
it's either cumming or it's going,
all the same, ecstacies throeing,
you can't beat the embrace, at the climax of the race with silly smiles upon our face!
The feel of your skin, to inhale your aroma deep within,
like an oasis in my deserted life so far,
freeing emotions like open a jar,
you make me feel like a shooting star,
come to me, wherever you are,
fragments of reality, we each hold a piece,
come to me my darling, lets share a kiss! XX
©John-Ovan.P.Hull
Categories:
thermals, devotion, friendship, girlfriend-boyfriend, love,
Form:
He circles around this rustic boat launch,
the locals know he nests in the pine trees,
fish bone at the base tell of his last lunch,
these birds like water, big lakes and sea.
White heads draw the eye, even if far off,
it’s clear why most men think them majestic,
he looks better still plunging for the waves,
into a trout yellow talons now rip.
Some folks snap photos from this rocky beach,
zoom in on fledglings with thin mottled heads,
they flap wings to fly, but it’s still a reach,
so they just hop back to their nesting bed,
it will be some months before they’re ready
to soar on the thermals, strong and steady.
Categories:
thermals, animal, appreciation, beauty, bird,
Form:
Sonnet