Best Tufted Poems
Beneath this soft...dark silent sky
Beneath this soft…dark silent sky
as starlight teardrops weep
in moon glow feathered sonnets…
my heart waits
~
Clinging to every hope,
laced of tiny woven dreams
now filtered through weary eyes
and worried sighs
~
Collecting each moment shared
within my weathered hands…mixed
with essence of rose petal and
meadowlark song
~
Woven together in melodic patterns,
colorful arcs on golden horizons
bidding me a good evening while
riding in on the sweetest of mystic zephyrs…
~
as another tear paints my cheek
in transparent worry
and desperate longing for that day
when your happiness reappears
~
For here sits my whispered wishes,
behind tufted clouds of life,
touching me with poetic joy,
allowing me to exhale freely
~
Beneath this soft…dark silent sky
as starlight teardrops weep
in moon glow feathered sonnets…
where my heart waits…for your smile
Good Night Soupers
~
3:15 am…blurred red numbers tell as
I stir, reaching for what I have seen,
grasping for the moments spent in the presence of beauty
as once again you have visited me in a dream…
Pure white flowing whispered fabrics and butterfly trails
awash of waterfalls cascading and mountain top zephyrs,
rock face delights collect on horizons of hope
as softness frames your luminescent face
My eyes focus in the darkness
as your touch remains real on my skin
I am still while stars sleep in crescent moon hammocks
How can this be, I am alone, yet I was not, for I could see
You were searching for me,
barefoot on lush green vistas, daisy paths and buttercup drops
neath chiffon tufted clouds suspended
above echoes of love songs harmonizing with our heart beats
Night outside my window keeps time in silent motions,
slowly sweeping breezes form rhythmic patterns
and poetry settles upon my body
as I continue to write within my now awakened mind
Destiny beckons in fruited winds
as azure eyes find luscious views of nature’s majesty
Your skins glows of spring blooms in petal’d bliss
and opal desires in the warmth of the day
But I had found you…you had found me…
my desperate wanderings have shown me the prize, illumined the joy
lingering in your smile…your eyes
your touch which stays with me even as I lay alone…still dreaming
Sun beamed passions follow you, caress you in
dancing shadows of golden hair
breathing of morning glory skies
and shimmering dragonfly wings
At this early hour, with an apricot moon peering through the curtains
and these words which have found me
playing among my thoughts, I now realize
that my every dream is you...you are my poetry
Streaks of pink 'cross morning skies.
Land shaded lemon; last star dies…
Lightening blue spreads far and wide,
a half red sun. New dawn’s arrived.
This living desert yawns and wakes.
A foreign sparrow flits and takes
what morsel that darkness denied
to night feeders who now hide.
The sun begins its golden rise.
Shadows bear before my eyes.
Range of mountains now in view
look purple hazed and crumpled too.
A gentle breeze blows cool and soft.
A drifting hawk soars past aloft.
A static call echo's the morning.
Somewhere close, the first days warning.
There's golden bloom on mulga's face,
saltbush combines in shadow space,
a rabbit warren mounds the sand!
Three's company seems hand in hand.
The rugged hillside carved away,
gorged and furrowed brown and gray.
Eroded sand displays the shale,
where layered seams look to impale.
Tufted grasses dry and withered,
amongst that broken shale that slivered.
Stand out quartz already bright;
The rising sun turns glistening white.
A different swallow, black and white;
blue backed wrens dart out of sight.
Sunning now on walking tracks,
lay together; shingle backs.
And now the scene spreads far and wide,
to struggling wattle; sheer cliff side.
On closer look near at the base,
three kangaroos take a two-step pace.
Stillness lingers, there's an unknown call,
what bird is that? I love them all!
And the red plain grows beneath blue skies,
as the living desert welcomes sunrise.
Sacred Lake Titicaca
High atop the Andes, between Bolivia and Peru,
sits the birthplace of the Incas, sacred Lake Titicaca.
A powerhouse of nature through and through,
it was created by the Inca god of the lake, Viracocha.
A treetop view showcases unique flora and fauna that abound,
from llamas to fresh water snails dozing in the sun;
rainbow trout and other colorful fish are found
as sunlight reflects golden on the lake’s horizon.
Flocks of snowy egrets among the rare totora reed
share this natural habitat with slate-gray Andean coots,
snowy egrets, and white-tufted grebes diving for feed,
while parrots scratch their heads perched on mangrove roots.
Sounds of nature overcome the silence of twilight,
as huge water frogs on lily pads croak their lullabies.
The black-crowned night heron forages in the dying light,
and gloomy catfish float underground for a tasty prize.
Incas believed that when their time on earth was done,
the mystical clear blue water was a portal to the stars,
and into the depths of Titicaca, their spirits would return,
to reunite with their gods and venerable ancestors.
05-25-2017
The colorant of dawn, the cardinal sees,
intoning its hues with, “pretty...pretty...pretty.”
As I covet red feathers, in the teaberry tree,
the sunlit chickadee harmonizes, “hey sweetie.”
The woodpecker like a heckler is pining for laughs -
pounding, drumming the marionette for gaffs.
A tufted titmouse tweets, “peter...peter...peter.”
The goldfinch dines on dandelion seeds, lilting sweeter.
Outfitted with winsome wildlife, comfortable and commodious,
my small bit of forest resonates with songbirds, melodious.
crisp wind dips low…
trembling on hammock
of rosette sky
along vast dome…
feathery air ripples
like scalloped leaves
winged azure glints…
lifting tufted veil
in autumn’s dance
SKAT's Contest: October Sky
8/25/2015
To lose our songbirds would be so tragic,
for their tunes hold a special magic.
And nature’s music unburdens the heart,
providing ebbing souls with a jumpstart.
The robin's chirp heralds the melting snow,
as the goldfinch serenades the meadow.
And in the spring, flocks of chickadees sing,
nesting near houses to rear their offspring.
Blue jays and nuthatches tweet from the trees
as woodpeckers rat-a-tat-tap with ease.
And crimson cardinals tweak overhead,
while tufted titmouse whistles are widespread.
(Rhyme)
2/16/2019
It was never exactly pinpointed
for only the African Crowned Eagles knew of the twisting paths
to its misplaced place.
In that crystalline chamber, upon that gold dusted floor
were found much thumbed volumes of all Nietzsche’s
works,
a penguin in a glass bell,
a twig cut from the tree of Life one million years from now'
A windblown leaf but only the wind that blew it.
a silver cuspidor, a ancient helmet made of Pittsburgh steel,
a Neolithic moonshine still,
a copy of the illustrated Karma Sutra,
several debunked words of wisdom from Aristotle,
an Olmec Letter Opener.
and a stuffed tufted rat.
The find has been carefully transported to the Smithsonian
where neuroscientists are trying
to solder together all these missing links.
The NYT has declared these odd finds
to be ‘Russian disinformation,’
but ‘Bokonon’ the mythical poet-sage of the Republic
of Never-Never Land
has blessed each artifact and declared them
to be far too strange not to be absolutely true.
Tufted white-tops
on pale beige staggered-stalks,
the coneflowers crowns
dressed the perennial bed;
leaning precariously against
the conical mushroomesque birdbath.
Snow, soft and wet wrapped the grape arbor like ermine;
making trellises reminiscent of Kanji on a blank page.
Fragile, frozen, flowers hung decoratively,
from frail clematis twined about cedar posts.
Brittle brown maple leaves, left behind by autumn;
drag branches draped,
as in bridal lace to the frosted tarp;
defying winter to do what fall could not.
Conifers cried under the weighty white down.
Their limbs straining not to crack, surrender,
snapping to attention as the day warms.
The snow plops pleasantly to the ground.
Winter waits patiently as the garden dreams.
An early spring morning is greeted with a robin’s song
A delightful chorus inviting other songbirds to sing along
In his chorus of “cheery, cherry, tut, tut” sounds
From a robin happily singing and dancing on the ground
A chickadee perches at the feeders to watch the show
And stops to eat some seeds before letting his music flow
He sings his chorus of “chick -a dee-dee-dee-dee-dee”
And continues his chirping for all the other songbirds to see
A red cardinal starts to sing to make his presence known
With a loud “cheer, cheer, cheer, tweet- cheer” not to be out shown
He’s perched high on a tree branch in vibrant feathers for all to see
His mate now lands on his branch and joins his chorus perfectly
A tufted titmouse is now perched on the bird feeder pole
Singing “peter, peter, peter” sounds as his loud whistles roll
Now the birds have all left after their cheery morning serenade
Hopeful tomorrow may bring another delightful songbird parade
in Pando's shadow a young maiden sings
wander'd to and fro peat bog feet sloshing
auburn locks adorned in daisy crowned rings
quite unaware that something was watching
one with thick skinned carion heart at core
to scavenge Middlemist's red camellia
he too delivered from far away shores
a renaissance ratel in rebellion
Leila leisured in shade of quaking aspen trees
treacle honey joys spilled out across her dress
temptation so strong insatiable hunger needs
dark honey badger lept from a tufted hedge
in presence one so endeared, showed no fear
for all beasts, nature's greatest gift bequeath
proffered morsel from open hand as he neared
inquisitive eyes belied soft heart and sharp teeth
forest branches embraced the two in nosh
as trembling giant's rustling now subdued
ladybugs flit from branch to dew covered moss
fingers stroked rough fur nape to back as he chewed
two walked ancestral shores as newfound kin
sniff'g this way and that among tufted pearls
claws tap entranced her soft cooing voice hymn
face framed in rivulets long carefree curls
long past gone Leila's song through far away gates
honey badger' forest friend rests - Pando waits
Let off a lead,
freedom bounds
as if all joy is held
within a bouncing ball
to be retrieved
and brought back to lay
at a lover's feet. Then
sent off to do again.
Smells wafting
from tree trunks,
fence posts and tufted grass
flood the air with molecules
sending canine bladders
into spasm eager
to mark the moment
as their own.
Focussed on what is firm
beneath their feet,
every nerve they have
is wired to ‘now’
whilst I, looking on,
try and retrieve phantoms
bouncing across what was
and what is yet to come.
" We can learn lessons from nature." by poet
I feel the need to relax today
As I sit outside on this sunny day
I try to let all my stress slip away
I can feel the sunny rays warm my soul
As my worries gently slide off and roll
I am no longer worried about things
As a butterfly flutters its wings
and watch it dip in blooms and out it springs
A bee joins with pollen laden legs
The butterfly gently protects its eggs
A light warm breeze tickles my nose
with sweet perfumes of a freshly bloomed rose
A hummingbird zips by and feeds from blooms
Another one joins as they zip and zoom
Embracing the moment, not feeling gloom
A tufted titmouse flies past my chair
And lands at the feeders, singing with flair
He feeds and sings without any care
A moment in nature is all I need
To enjoy life at a much calmer speed
Swift bee, the gilded messenger of bliss,
Begirt with golden stars of Heaven’s span,
What draws you to the clover’s gentle kiss?
Sweet nectars, that the strongest drinker can
Carouse with dreams and dizzy waves of sleep,
Or mocks the freshest breath of summer’s clime?
Swift bee, a flame-plumed star of black and gold,
Why do you with your mouth, completely reap
The liquors that each golden bud does hold,
And lulls with somnolence the might of time?
Oh, bee, you spread the tufted pollen clouds
Like nebulae of opal stars crossways
The delicate, soft digitalis crowds,
Which passionately garner sunbeam rays
Within their coral shells. I can’t express
How much your toil’s worth to coming spring,
And how so passioned glide your wings around
The purple, gentle harebell’s loosened dress,
And make, through pretty hums, spring’s hopeful sound
Oft too profaned by your most fearsome sting!
Oh, pretty hummer! Hearty worker! Bee!
I see you roaming round the garden’s bend,
Where sweet, white daisies wreathe a canopy,
And make you but a hearty, cheerful friend.
Swift bee, the aching, swollen heart of mine
Desires comfort where pain knows no ruth
The buds hold, like rich garners golden grain,
Ambrosia of the gods, dream’s honeyed wine
So bring and let dear bee, such moisture stain
My lips and warm my heart with spring’s bright youth!
© 2014 Gleb Zavlanov
so, the chicken
came first
with an inventive burst
no wonder it can't happen backwards
the law of physics would surrender
the concept as beautiful as new weather
and fluffy tufted pink flamingo feathers
time and space travels only forward
no reason though, not to travel backwards
yet, God gives us a pink paradise
like pink roses he is so concise!
Pinks calm caring hues
a look on world views