Billowy Poems

Thirty Knots an Hour

         His very bones smell of ocean
            beard lashed with its salt
         On land, rubber legs awkward
             he gapes and he gawks

         But rig him up a mast 
             billowy sails to go with it
         Prow boldly juts forward ~
             Thirty knots an hour, his ticket

Heaven Bound

The river winds just around the bend
I can't wait to see the majestic mountains
Made by God's precious hands
The sky is full of billowy clouds
Like cotton in the palm of my hand
Lord send down Your Spirit
Where hearts and minds then collide
Bless me with all of Your favor
Never from You will I ever hide
I see the meadow just below me
Oh my feet have left the ground
I now know God's calling me
And now I'm heaven bound

BUSY BUSY BUMBLE BEE

Busy…Buzzing…Bumble Bee
Busy Buzzing Bottling Honey
Jumbo Bundled Bumble Bee
With Bold-Brown Buttoned Bottoms 
And Billowy Belted Blemished Top
All well-suited for yet another
Busy-Busy Beautifully-Buzzing
Kind of Day
Bottling Golden Malted Honey
For the Bubble-Blowing Honey-Bee…•

Ivory Flakes

Oh, lovely snowflakes,
from billowy clouds, 
plump with expectation,
you break free and come tip toeing lightly
on tiny feet, gliding and dancing,
through the air in crisp December.

You travel through ether
uncaged and free and drop down
littering the earth’s expanse.
you keep falling and collapsing
one on another, and lie huddled 
as a white massive heap-
sometimes landing thick as round balls
sometimes as the light dusting
of talcum, soft and pulverized.

The earth wears your white mantle with pride.

Those of you come first,
get vanquished instantly.
but when the real exodus begins,
you accumulate and heap,
inch by inch and foot by foot,
becoming a formidable force,
covering the earth in a thick white blanket.

In day light, you wink like twinkling stars.
at night what delight it is to watch you,
gleaming in moonlight, with your white hair, 
grizzled into grey and ivory.

Folded in your dazzling beauty,
and enjoying the silent lullaby, 
the world wrapped in cold stillness,
goes to sweet slumber.

The Beach - POTD

The sun set peacefully
as I looked out towards
the distant red horizon
of the calm, oily sea.
 
A gentle breeze caressed me,
I stood on the edge of the beach
leaving imprints on the fine sand.
I loved this lonely beach,
the silence was broken softly 
by the azure wavelets
that brushed the edge of the sand.
 
So much beauty and wonder
despite the darkness
that, like an old fog, descended
upon that peaceful part of earth.
 
I looked towards the sky
dotted with billowy clouds
that raced below the twinkling stars.
I wondered if my angel was up above,
looking down on me,
guarding me from my earthly woes.
What could I do without
my heavenly being of love?
 
I felt immense tranquillity,
the beach shrouded in peace
far away from the noisy cities
to which I would have to return.
The stars appeared: the evening star,
was it that heralded
the birth of my Creator?
It mattered not, for I was safe.
He was taking care of me.
I knew I'd never be forlorn.
 
Those days have passed.
Now I'm back home
among cold concrete blocks.
Yet in my heart is peace
for I can still hear
the gentle lapping of the sea waves
on the peaceful beach
that is my own.

Writings of a storm cold

Writings of a storm cold 

The house gently 
Creaks
From icy winds pressing against
Exteriors whilst slipping 
Through
Small inconsistencies.
Sleet dances against window panes.
Piling glass against glass,
Particulates of infinite possibilities. 
Fractals dancing down, 
Tap dancing on rooftops.
I sit at kitchen table, 
Bundled from the cold.
My only friend and partner, a
Dancing flame from candle
Casting shadows upon the walls. 
Words scratching valleys and 
Mountains across vast white expanse.
Scratching eloquence..
Moving still.
Plumes of billowy 
exhale
surround my head 
Like a haloed angel.
Tonalities of gray, from white to 
A Dark and shadowy blackness. 
Reaching out,
Ever growing,
Like the reach of sea creatures lost beneath vast depths.
Here I sit,
Staged against the cold.
A storm of ice,
From liquids fallen from skies with stories 
Told. 
I am their conductor.
Dance for me of wind,
Whisper in mine ear. 
Settle still o house of moaning temperance 
Against a northernly wind. 
All the while my quill to 
Parchment 
Sliding out visions painted by verbiage.

Aimless Wanderer

Suitcase packed 
Going on a journey
No fixed plan nor agenda
Through the shady woods
A bonfire in the night 
To a riverside camp 
Angling by a stream 
On a mountain trail
Where the snow capped peaks
Touch the sky 
Soaking up the sun 
On a sandy beach 
Listening to the billowy waves
Crashing on the shore 
Gazing at a glorious sunset 
And a star studded sky 
Passing through a lush meadow
A grassland swaying in the wind 
I wander wherever my heart desires

trickle

whirl …

where waters mingle -
the inky black that pulls down
swallows … enfolds …
the ballet breaks -
sun’s golden coins a-dancing,
birthing pixies to the brine
to draw the gaze with dazzled magic …
the glassy smooth that
dopplegangs a billowy azure and a
quivery, star-daubed vault …
the ruffled swells -
turning masts to pendulum poets,
ticking time as the hulls roll …
and rock … and roll …
and the foaming rage -
surf that breaks reefs to ruin
and howls at Calypso,
the salty sirens screaming at
her for just a taste of
jagged justice …
the seas roar and ebb and
sunder suns to ache
the rills run to the low to find them
and feed the confluences
water weaves and wells and works to
be the All of life -
the precious matter, miraculous
the shaper and sater and savior of
everything that actuates
yet …
the oceans, and washes, wild
and weeping heavens
in all their splendor and abundance
can not hope to accommodate
the love, sorrow, spirit, or
significance 
of one single, solitary
child’s …

tear.








Copyright © Gregory Richard Barden, July 27, 2024

Music and Magic

     The lyrics sweep over me
        as a wave of enchantment
           over a magic forest

     The melody embraces me, lifts me up
        o’er highest treetops
  
     to a place where billowy clouds
        lull me to sleep

Curtains

Setting:  A castle garden where a man and woman are talking

Character 1 - Giselle
Character 2 - Robert

Dialogue: 

Robert: My dear, you look ravishing today !
Giselle: Thank you darling, do you like it ?

Robert:  The colors are perfect for your skin !
Giselle:  I thought so also, do you like the material ?

Robert:  I do indeed, so delightful and bright !
Giselle:  Does the material remind you of anything ?

Robert:  Well, now that you mention it, my curtains !
Giselle:  Do you think I would make a dress out of curtains ?

Robert:  No, of course not, that was silly of me !
Giselle:  Do you like how it flows all billowy in the breeze ?

Robert:  I do indeed, the inside panel all filmy and soft !
Giselle:  Well, darling did you really like your curtains ?

Robert:  I do, now hold on a second dear heart !
Giselle:  Yes, darling this dress could be made of curtains ?

Robert:  And now I see that it is, what a talent you are !
Giselle:  Oh thank goodness, I thought you would be angry ?

Robert: So let me get this straight you are wearing my curtains !
Giselle: Exactly, they were too pretty for a window don't you think ?

Tensions

Billowy storm clouds turn to skies of azure blue
Agonizing pain fades when its days are through
The trek of life has its many ups and downs
Its seasons of smiles, its times of frowns

We hope more joy and gladness are recorded
Than all the heartache and sadness that’s reported
Yet troubles and trials are given that we might know
That adversities strengthen; crises help us grow

If all the joys were placed in a basket of cane
And all the pains put in another of the same
Then both are put on a balance scale at life’s end
Would they equalize or which one would ascend

Perhaps, it is just a matter of how one views life
Joys are difficult to evaluate amid strife
And pain often accompanies times of celebration
These tensions are oft together whatever the occasion

Daresay, it is not whether these tensions exist or not
Inner feelings of ecstasy or agony play their part
It’s how we handle and ascertain life’s various scripts
Life’s many ups and downs, its differential treatments

storm gathers her minions

Storm gathers her minions, trains her army,
I watch from my window, thinking of smoke
She is unusually puffy and billowy, personable
Determined and distinguished, I feel fearful

Storm continues to bring in troops
I think it is overkill, but what do I know?
I have never been a commander of an element
I sit back and wait, worried about the possibilities.

Scenes of Childhood

Running fancy free into a field,
Chasing butterflies my path revealed,
My arms outstretched into the sky,
I am so happy--not caring why.
Cooled by a fragrant soft Spring breeze,
I trip and fall down to my knees,
Then wistfully gaze into the sky,
To watch the clouds drift slowly by.
Slowly my youthful mind escapes,
Into their billowy pillowy shapes,
As my youthful imagination rages,
Onto life’s unwritten pages.

I reminisce about these scenes so well,
But to them I’ve had to say farewell,
To blend with the accepted propriety
Of my adult world’s fast society.
Though I mostly do what people expect,
I sometimes upon my youth reflect,
And dream nostalgically of my life then,
Knowing I can never be that person again.

Life's Highway

Speeding along life's highway
With the scenery flashing by
Must stop and smell the roses
There's more than meets the eye

We miss the tiny intricacies 
Subtleties that mean so much
Life's delightful wee treasures
The warmth of a babies touch

A gentle breeze at daybreak
Welcoming a brand new day
Puffy white billowy clouds
Trees as they swing and sway

Life's a highway, enjoy the ride
The end comes far too soon
As you look for it's hidden meaning
You reach life's final swoon

Reflecting back over the years
Of the good times and the bad
You realize it's been a blast my friends
Thankful for the life you've had

With heartaches and some sorrows
To get through it all unscathed
Is nothing short of a miracle
In your memories you're left to bathe

Are the clouds just soapsuds too

"Clouds
Are so gorgeous
Just as clouds--
They border the edge of heaven
In great, rolling, billowy puffs...
Or they float
In little trailing wisps
Across the sky...
Why do poets try
To liken clouds to mundane things
Like soapsuds?
And cotton...
Or even sea foam?
Clouds
Are too gorgeous
Just as clouds
To pretend they are anything else"

(Grandmother Joy, 1942)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I tested her comment
--soapsuds or sea foam--
out of curiosity
used Google to roam
as it turns out, in 1932
there was this little ditty
I wonder if Grandma knew?...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Soapsuds, soapsuds, in my hair
Soapsuds, soapsuds, white and fair;
Tell me mother, tell me true, 
Are the clouds just soapsuds too?"

(T.G Nichols Co. Inc., Kansa City, 1932)

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