Best Thrushes Poems
In November I write of winter
for I am weary of the old year and tired bones
I visualize all hardships blanketed with fresh snowfall
geese in a "V" as they flee on trade winds to the south
season's celebrations, toasting in the new year
senior couples delighting in a luminous sunset
knowing it might be their last together
In February I write of spring
for I am weary of the bone-chilling cold
I envision the circle of life resurrecting dormant earth and tired souls
zephyr winds teasing nascent flower petals and young hummingbirds
mayday flower crowns adorning laughing children
young lovers sharing kisses, dreaming dreams of
infinite possibilities
In May I write of summer
for I am weary of the bone-soaking rain
I forecast cloudless skies and longer days
Santa Ana winds dismissing every chill
a lark's lilting lullaby lulling loons on the lake
vacationing families basking in the warm outdoors
brides and grooms viewing limitless horizons
In August I write of autumn
for I am weary of the bone-dry heat
I anticipate bewitching fall winds tantalizing neon maple leaves
turkeys gobbling, ducks wobbling, thrushes warbling
harvest home throbbing with the aroma of fresh pie
middle age couples cuddling by the fireplace
giving thanks for all that lies behind and ahead
Lord, help me to view the past with grace,
the future with hope,
the present with contentment,
and to write of November
in November.
written 25 October 2021
"In the echo of silence, the whispers of the Divine are heard." By Rumi
I entered the winding path into the captivating vale
Surrounded by ice-capped mountains and ancient trees
Firs, larches, redwoods, spruce, and ash, all grand
I shouted in glee: “I’m here!” All around some Echo replied.
A repetitive Echo, always vibrating and mesmerising.
What a singular sound to hear nature at its best!
I lounged beneath the shade of an old maple tree,
Where the verdant vale lay sprawled in front of me.
Balmy breezes blew through dark green trees, an Echo divine.
Tiny thrushes flitted from bush to bush.
They permeated the vale with their familiar songs.
Occasionally they rested on a dense bush,
Hush! Did I hear the song again?
Choirs of echo resounded all around the lush plateau.
Down on the majestic plain, a babbling brook meandered
Towards a clump of cottages, providing water for all.
The rivulet was a sight with fronds of ferns unfolding.
How delightful to hear the water emanating such dulcet echo
As the stream zigzagged around rocks and small waterfalls.
Every echo ended in silence profound and I was in God’s peace.
A holy hymn hummed serene: echo after echo, all divine.
Placed 1
Visions, above fluffy white clouds,
I would have as a bird,
And spy upon the fairy crowds
That frolic among stately pines.
Eat milk, cheese and honey,
Fly round elves and the Queen that shines.
On to the beach littered with tents
Oh if I were a bird,
Follow games and summer events.
Love children playing in the cove,
Bring on spades and red pails
Build fine sand castles in a grove.
Back to the hills to croon again.
Oh if I were a bird,
I'll join my friends sing on the plain.
A choir of melodious song.
A lyric of grosbeak,
Thrushes, robins, we'll sing for long.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
18 October 2020~
Writing Challenge - Tercets - Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Constance La France
Placed 2nd tier
Gnarled tree rooted firm, fallen bark,
abundant earthen ground cradles.
Horned larks and thrushes beat their wings,
wavering within sun's gold rays.
Lace shade dance a hush call, seep by
a calm sigh and the incessant
babbling of an adjoining brook.
Delicious breeze, reviving kiss,
entice utter lull in veiled dream.
A world, a marriage joined as one,
desire of only pleasant warmth.
A muse of chill wind and aching
darkness that stirs snow fall with wings.
The old bare and brittle, gnarled limbs
gaze out towards humble night sky.
So far I've done everything I could possibly do this year.
I've given thorough thought to cleaning up my act.
These early-day hours have been rough-house
The storm shudders inside me are all grimy, they need tending to,
I just need to find them first.
So tired from last night,
Riding unicorns through the stars.
(No one believes me.)
Trouble is we're all blinking too fast for our own good as it is.
I've done everything I've promised to do this year, so far,
And I haven't even made the promises yet.
That's how interesting I've been lately.
You have no idea how hard it is to be this interesting.
Riding Bellyglow through the thrushes of song birds...
I probably don't know, either.
What a bucket of letters this is.
Thanks for Peking, thanks for Hong Kong.
Happy New Year.
early rising sun
hovering over the hills ~
my heart skips a beat
the welcome presence
of thrushes in the garden ~
ethereal tunes
purple clematis
adorns the wooden trellis ~
fragrant elegance
fluttering of wings ~
butterflies adapt to wind’s
choreography
it is late; my work must start
with reluctance I depart
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
Haiku Sonnet Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Joanna Daniel
© 31st May 2023
An oak tree stood beside a narrow stream
All bent and twisted like an agéd man
So gently flowed the stream through ancient roots
While laughing with the innocence of youth
In summertime the children came to play
Within the cooling water of the stream
Or rest beneath the gnarled oak tree's limbs
Spread, father-like, to shade them from the sun
In autumntime, when gusts and breezes blow
The leaves would float like dancers through the air
First here, then there, they softly tripped, until
They lit at last to grace the frozen ground
In wintertime, the sprightly youths would skate
Along the crystal surface of the stream
Above, the windswept branches firmly stood
Like blacksmiths' limbs are hardened from the forge
In springtime burst the oak leaves forth anew
As kingly robes they grace the ancient tree
Inside its keep the squirrels and thrushes chirp
Secure from danger's threat and free from care
Time sped, its unrelenting chimes yet tolled
The youths that loved its shade have passed away
Yet still he laughs and seems to mock at time
He stands as stout and tall as ages past
But time, its current flows at even pace
And now the oak is bent with cruel decay
Though doubled at the back like aging man
He stands there yet, a monument of strength
~ Written for "Personification" Contest. Second Place.
Somewhere downriver, among thrushes and the swallows,
Ducks in hidden hallows have silky, satin wings
Among the reedy shallows, swim ducks in hidden hollows
rest awhile where willows lean, and haloed twilight clings
Summer's been forsaken. Now the leaves are drifting
A constant current takes them to where the sun resides
Dreams are carried with them, in waters ever shifting
Without much hesitation. a few are cast aside
Sodden leaves are drifting, to where the sun resides
I watch the streams meander, and I hear the seasons call
Water soothes the jagged stones, and sparkles in the sun
The moon arrives and sun goes down, as if from earth it falls
Then it melts into the river's flow, and seams blend into one
I hear the seasons call, as the seams blend into one
_____________________________________________________
Contest: 255
Sponsor Brian Strand
There is a river at my garden
end, where amongst the reeds birds sing
melodious songs filling shadows,
and the golden lilies float and spin.
The rolling river has a murmur,
on its long winding path that in time
pours into the sea- the deep unknown.
Rivers cannot just flow forever!
But at my gardens end, I linger
walking in the shallows by the shore.
I feel the great pull of the current,
then from the thrushes sweet ducklings drift.
________________________________
November 29, 2016
Poetry/Verse/At the End Of My Garden
Copyright Protected, ID 11 853-880-29
All Rights Reserved, 2016, Constance La France
Written for the Premier contest, River Line
sponsor, Rick Parise, Judged 12/2016
First Place
"I carry your heart with me (I carry it in my heart) I am never without it..." E.E. Cummings
Hello my dearest darling, it was our time to wake,
The rustic rooster had already roused my reverie,
Heralding the dewy dawn
Of our new great day.
For I could never live without you.
I yearned for your presence all the time.
Everywhere in the countryside was peace
And crowned with our steadfast love
With the sound of nurturing nature.
As I lay on our comfy broad bed,
I looked at my still-slumbering wedded wife.
Her fragrant freckled face looked on so serenely,
A soft sweet smile hovered on her luscious lips
So peaceful and fair,
As if she were amid many pleasant placid dreams
So I could not bear to wake her up and spoil
Her various favorite fantasies.
Suddenly her emerald eyes fluttered wide open,
And saw my boyish grim smiling seductively at her.
She grabbed my head and lowered me on her lips
That smell of lavish lavender filled my nostrils.
This was a harmonious heaven on earth.
Later we went down for our favorite food,
We rode our bikes and pedaled hard,
Admiring the snow-capped mountains that rose far.
Cedars, larches, and junipers adorned the steep slopes
Where eagles, kites and vultures flew
Searching for their potential prey.
Whilst on the grassy picturesque plain,
Warblers, thrushes and orioles
Twittered their serenade symphony songs.
Finally, we arrived at my Taverna
And beckoned the masterful Manager.
Heard the required report on the gains I made.
Everything was smooth
For I wear my enchanting emotions up my sleeve.
We idled the dreamy day away,
Hugging and kissing most of the time.
Partook of a delicious dinner for two,
But at closing time we went back home,
To a well-needed restful rural repose
In each other’s enticing embrace.
Placed 1st
Paddling on a swirling river.
Her husband takes the right.
His wife uses her powerful left hand.
Oh, what a truly serene feeling.
Gently gliding over the rippling water,
As the moon mesmerises the sweet scene,
Stars twinkle in the vast, darkening sunset sky.
They paddle in a sing-song, singing off-key.
One, two, kiss me sweet, kiss me soft.
Moonlight dances on the rippling river.
Their hearts entwined in an elated effect.
The peaceful sounds of flowing water
Mingle with the thrushes. chirping wildlife.
But as water seems to seep into the old canoe,
They paddle to the shore and safety.
And on the dew grass, they hug and kiss,
Their old canoe is truly drowned in the abyss.
In the resplendent dawn of one seraphic spring
I saw a delicately weaved bird’s nest nestled
on the baroque bough of the magnolia tree
that was in full bloom in the backyard lawn.
Since then I saw every morning a cheery Robin
fly low in zest through the crispy fragrant air
with the wings spread to span the cerulean sky,
and descend to its nest as my songbird.
The bird of bright daylight flew with sunburst zest,
kept the secrets of avian delight in scarlet breast.
When thrushes were silent it sang to the first sunray,
the winds carried away the lyric of the dawn.
Little Robin swung on tree boughs in the surge of squall,
fluttered with rhythmic melody when rainbow appeared.
I heard the bird perched high outside my window
sing for me the sunrise song of the new day.
The charming bird dancing on the bowed branches
gave me enchanting company in the lonesome hours,
singing delightful songs that sailed in the gloomy air,
suffused my time with the ether of sensuous joy.
As I enjoyed the friendly closeness of the chirping robin
my pet cat sat by my side at the edge of the portico.
Perhaps with a built-up feeling of envy she watched me
engrossed with the little bird, unmindful of her presence.
One sunny morning I placed some corn on the porch,
found the bird fly in, hopped around to eat the grains.
My cat appeared from nowhere, pounced like lightning,
caught the robin in her sharp claws and ran away.
Sitting now by the window I miss my robin on the tree,
but in my ear still resonates the twitter of the bruised bird.
About a castle crowned with gleaming towers,
Young grass and budding trees announce the Maytime;
Above the mountain streams or blooming flowers,
The thrushes and the larks sing all the daytime.
There through the woods rove pairs of lad and maiden,
Each damsels' hair with flowers overladen:
One plays a harp beside a crystal grotto;
To live each day 'neath beauty's locks their motto.
Having engaged in unlawful
Sexual intercourse
The hunter inflicted suffering
Upon my dissent.
Trained for rapid eye movement
He showcased with a violent temper
And in conversation
How it was for the purpose
Of my moral improvement
That in his chasuble
He designed to subdue me.
What an obscenity
To doubt the machinery
By which my chastity
Supports my collected bodies!
The gun carriage moved
Backwards and forwards.
The old world thrushes
chatted in "la Casula".
His discipline hastened
A yawning fissure.
The gorge that would
Breach the structure
Of our relations
With divergent opinions.
The chaser chassed in
Cheap chauvinism.
The change in this
Chattel's luster
Could be seen in a
Chatelaine's cat's eyes.
Apocopated celebrants
Gathered for the sacrifice
I could tell by the
Marked interruptions
Gapping the framework
Of our forlorn continuity.
It scared me so
That I was not trusted
To trust myself
Or my resultant suffix.
Castitas, intercourse
Or crying became informal.
I longed for the days
Before the chasm
When secured
In composed type
We were the receiving set
Of a mounting foundation.
Now an uninformed attendant,
A collection of various sections
I indulge in mild beverage
And still find no quenching
The deep cleft of my harmed surface.
To write a tongue twister is not funny mister
I just don’t know where to begin
There’s one that I’ve written with which I’m quite smitten
But I’d had a very large gin...
Workers wrinkles worsen when wind worsens winters worst weathers
If your decision is instant derision
I guess I should try it again
So here is another, I pray to my mother
That your words will not cause me pain
Working writers write written works: Writing workers write workers rights
But too many choices in too many voices
Might just leave some of you floored
So I think one more is plenty before
I leave every one of you bored...
Fierce forest fires frazzle thrushes feathers
So, okay, I’ll brave it and say that’s my fav’rit
I hope that it tangled your tongue
But if that one didn’t but one of them did
It means that my song had been sung
P.S... Freds frozen fingers feed thread through first
7 January 2021
Contest: Tongue Twister Challenge
Sponsor: Joe Sandler