through bottle green waves
glassy surface of the deep -
mysterious tide
She showed me her bicycle
With considerable pride
The wheels were red
With specks of black in-between
Handle bars in bottle green
As she sped away, little did
She know the bicycle was carved
From a watermelon ripe and green!
The bicycle wheels swirling
Slicing pieces for a queen
Squish squash sweet juice flying
Painting a watermelon sky
Pink rain cooling the air
She fell to the ground
With watermelon pieces in her hair!
28.6.22
Sponsor Mystic Rose Rose
A Watermelon Fantasy Ride
OUTSIDE THE CITY
Outside the city where the pomegranates grow,
I take a silent breath and walk a little slow,
The cottage I live in is not too far away,
All covered with ivy and an open doorway;
Outside the city where the icy waters flow,
There's a hidden garden where I often go,
Having ruby red apples and bottle green pears,
All ready to eat but there's no one who cares;
Outside the city where the unearthly folks show,
I take a tiny step and talk a little low,
The cottage I came for is right in front of me,
But there are others inside where I ought to be;
Outside the city where I had died long ago,
You can hear my laughter and laugh with me also,
I'm munching merrily on the apples and pears,
While inside my cottage others enjoy the scares.
28 April 2016
For Angela Tune's "A Ghost Story" contest
EMERALD BEAUTY
Mother Earth under cerulean sky
dressed in green foliage with lush verdure,
leafy vegetation and feral bottle green bushes matching with
glossy green grass in big mass growing in mirth.
Clad in olive green gown you were stepping down
from verdant valley to pastoral field,
harmonizing with viridescent panorama.
Your glimmering attire allured my dreamy dormant desire.
I listened to my rapid heart beats becoming faster.
I hastened to meet and address you but wobbling opposed.
Pearly passion entirely on confusion cascaded in plenitude,
resonating in rhapsody on melody of glamour of amour
as I faced the glistened emerald beauty.
12/10/19
Edited on 05/05/20
HM
' BRIAN'S CHOICE 4' Contest by Brian Strand
Bottle a vase Full of Flowers Picked from the Hillside - A Haiku
hillside steep flowers
green bottle stands placed in vase
flowers picked placed
all arrangements in
inside of a bottle green
swimming in water
while outside all’s wild
betrayed by birds steep flowers
they pick, pollinate
8/4/19
Written words by James Edward Lee Sr.©2019
A voyage to Greenland
Greenland is the largest island in the world, but it is not a continent
I looked up Nuuk the capital up on the YouTube; it is now a modern town
with supermarkets and even cafes.
I was there fifty years ago. Back then it was a rather primitive place
with a million barking dogs and drunk people on the dirt roads,
they used to hang dogs slowly so the hairs stood out and it was
exported as pelt one hopes this practice has been outlawed.
I remember the coastline it was bottle green and for once, still,
we went fishing in a clear stream so transparent and shallow
but when we waded over to the other side, it was so deep we could have drowned.
It was the coldest bath of my life.
Greenland was beautiful, but it was then not a place to remember with fondness,
except for the trout we caught.
Eloquently serene
Reminds me of seas
Of aquamarine,
Peaceful solitude
Aids my dreams,
Of forested trees
In bottle green verdancy,
I create my dreams
In luminescent
Tangerine themes,
Warm is my heart
That is fired by my passion,
In flames that are burning
White hot incandescently,
In a life that has more colour
Than we think or we see,
Vermilion is my blood
That races through me,
Golden are my days
Bathed in spirituality
Filigree are the wings
On which I fly from thee,
Into a pink, purple and orange
I fade into this sunset
And let it envelop me,
As well as all my hopes, beliefs and dreams
For now and all eternity.
I’m watching my surroundings
And I don’t know what to do
The world is coming to an end
And I’m trying to warn you.
I’m writing you a message
Which I hope that you’ll receive
And on this parchment written well
I hope that you’ll perceive
The dangers of experiments,
Of waste and luxury,
This planet just cannot sustain
The lives of you and me.
I tried to send it via air
But the planes just will not fly;
They say the air is far too thin
That carbon is the sky.
So then I tried the mail on land
Encountering a quirk
Disease has stricken everywhere
And no one’s left to work.
Then sea it is, I’ll have it float
Within a bottle green,
But when I walked along the beach
There was no water to be seen.
I took it out and sat to think,
I’ll offer it by hand,
But when I reached to pick it up
It burnt into the sand.
I’d write another warning sign
But no pages in my hand,
I’d tell you using word of mouth –
Would you ever understand?
The air, polluted thick and through,
Disease from you to me,
The water’s gone and fires rage,
How can I make you see?
July 11, 2007
Moon of the night,
I wish you could sing
You're indispensable to my being,
You guide me through this land,
of sparrows and nightingales,
over the bottle-green grass,
rain or shine or snow;
You're there every night
and the wrens sing to you,
contemplating you
and pondering on their thirst;
and in your eyes they see,
a lovely face,
for you have a face,
like all moons,
sometimes different
but you have one face
A face that illuminates.
Green…you always reflected in my peripheral
And kept watch as I tried to color my world
But there I lay in my blacks and my blues,
lifeless and faltering In monotone hues.
Through kaleidoscope eyes, I envisioned my skies
But the pot at the rainbow was storybook lies
so with nothing to gain and nothing to lose,
I just shuffled around In my blacks and my blues.
Never did I imagine you!, Green… to be my savior
But there you arose, out of my dark abyss
With your bottle green dress and scarlet kiss
Your emerald green eyes and unbridled bliss.
Now my kaleidoscope dreams have all been unfurled
Since you Green, have colored my world
You rescued my heart, Green
You rescued my heart.
Sonnet.
I touched upon a dream perfectly chorographic
as a ballet troupe of sardines avoiding predators.
A dance where no one applauds and everyone
is a loser, sad except for the mysterious beauty
of shimmering silver in a bottle- green ocean.
I touched upon a dream sparkling as fizzy wine
bobbles clung to cool glass disappearing with
plop- a momentarily rush of happiness- murmour
of voices; then the wine was still, yet for a second
the of mysterious wonder is remembered.
I touched upon a dream cold as a winter forest,
blue, frosty mist wrapped around trees; layers
of snow on the lake of recollection, but one day
a mysterious flash; and all will be remembered.
A bottle green, I’m lost at sea,
A cup or two of shamrock dew.
An emerald green, the forest queen,
My silk is spun a leafy hue.
An alpine white, tread polar ice,
The frosted hold of winter’s cold.
A snowdrop white, the spring moonlight,
A swan, a dove, or so I’m told.
A regal blue, and turquoise too,
The fragrant sigh of summer sky.
A cobalt blue, teal velvet view,
Cerulean and lazuli.
A furnace red, cold rubies bled,
The trees must learn autumnal burn.
A merlot red, the Sun’s bloodshed,
The flowers flare and blush in turn.
A tender grey, clouds hush the day,
You’ve silver-lined my burnished mind.
A lover’s grey, my pencils pray,
Soft feathers sleep, our sky is kind.
Seemingly floating along the bank
Where the river turns to bend
A bottle of green with cork atop
Thrust from the owner's hand
Crumbled paper brown with age
Scribbled words donned in haste
Hoping to find a permanent place
Where meaning has no end
Foam swept tides reaching up
High upon the shore-
To carry back the bottle green
And float forever more.
Emerald green throughout the scene,
I’m trapped within the stone,
Every hue of aquamarine and bottle green
The colours of things that grow.
Dappled sunlight filters through,
Light shafts that drift and float
Highlighting the greens of every hue
Picking out every dusty mote
My carpet is of mossy grass soft
Like a wave of soft green feathers
In my little green hidden croft
I sleep lightly in the heathers
The trees of green are old and strong,
Their mighty branches like a roof
Limbs so thick you can walk along
The leaves so big they’re rain proof
When summer comes the flowers bloom
With every conceivable shade
In my home, there are flowers in every room
Deep in my green, green glade
Into my secret dell you cannot come,
Because it was made only for me
It is created by a person so gleesome
It’s what my imagination will let me see
How sunlight turns everything green –
emerald grass on the headland,
bottle-green of undergrowth and shadow,
verdigris of shallow water in the cove,
moss-green of tidal pools.
But oh, the browns – auburn, russet,
cinnamon – shades that render
sea and land, as painted
by this morning’s artist sun-brush,
so much greener.
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