Use what talents you possess; the woods would be very silent if no birds sang there except those that sang best. - Henry Van Dyke
Reflected in the water, flowing gently
Sighs, songs, silence, so wonderfully inviting
Her rhythm, still as the music’s soul,
Glowing like the autumn’s knowing, her joy
Rising to the surface, leaves in vibrant hues
Glittering gold and trembling tangerine,
Rustling rusts and breathless burgundies
Floating, following the rapids soothing tracks
Listening to the birds, crooning, singing
Revealing their tales, caught up in the music
Of a moment, the descant’s sigh, breathing
Light over October, while the waters pass on by,
Spraying the ages with soft words, goodbye
To the summer’s version of the forest’s cry.
sleeping deep as night
and dreaming up to the stars
such midnight colors
burnt orange and creams
vividness imaginings
under red, red mars
burgundies and golds
converge on the pinks and blues
soon sweet sunshine blooms
It's in the early hours of the morning
when the sun is barely rising,
distant clouds blush in their lavenders and pinks
the seasons are changing, come round to this time of year,
the fall of autumn leaves on a coloring palette flow
from old withered greens to burgundies and reds
spotted yellow on orange pumpkin residue
leftovers from summer dying
giving way to autumn dispensaries of harvest stars and moon
lighting pathways in the ebony night;
as I walk in my own shadow marveling
at how the years have passed so quickly
I find, new dreams formed, hopeful and inspiring
that time remaining is all I have
and my dream is simple
to live it well.
A dozen roses
petals falling away
one by one,
crimson red burgundies fading
Cleopatra longing in seduction
Anthony succumbing with every
touch at I love you;
fading red to gentle pinks
reverent grace and innocence
calling out to you,
a single white rose in purity
Adonis wounded in love pursuit
Aphrodite rushing to his side,
set aside to silently speak
here I am, just for you.
QUIRKS
I once had a friend long time past
Who was wont to always break his fast
On cornflakes not with honey and milk
But pickled onions, gherkins and their ilk
Now if that’s not a quirk I’ll eat my hat
But when I do I must specify that
The brim must have ketchup, and then the crown
Will need Mulligatawny soup to wash it down
I have penchants predilections and preferences
For which others give tolerance and deferences
Like playing Wagner while eating beef jerky
And some other things that are just as quirky
I can ride a bike when not too far
Sitting backwards perched on handle bar
And though not Welsh, but from English stock
I can pronounce Llanfairpwllgwyngyllgogerychwyrndrobwllllantysiliogogogoch
In choosing twixt the Burgundies and Bordeaux’s
I adjudicate by colour and by nose
But if the menu’s fish and chips with mushy pea
I’ll settle for a nice cup of tea
So live and let live and we’ll get along
With our whims each singing a different song
These fancies, whether from Venus Mars or Saturn
All add to life’s rich quirky pattern
Dark wine reminds me of you
The burgundies and cabarets
The tang and thrum and hiss
That spiral like Egyptian silk
Nights that swell like cork
This night, a thousand
Under va single lamplight
In public or alone
Very late or very early
When I write my poems
Something of you still taut
Still tugs still pulls
A rope that trembled
Hummed between us
Hummed, love, didn't it
Love, how it hummed
The dirt filled path holds pumpkins on the farm
Thrill of autumn is set with mighty charm
Heart skips a beat every year at this time
And sure invigorates to the sublime
No matter the colors, like reds and rusts
Yellows and burgundies where brown entrusts
Beauty surely comes from all of these hues
Evenings coming quicker with darker blues
The fog is enjoyed in the morning hours
Very cool mist fills all with its power
Down in the valley it stays much longer
The morning mist loves the fall to ponder
No ravens fly this dusk with nighttime’s view
Secure in knowing autumn’s peace is true
Russell Sivey
I go to the edge of the world
And I find
Yellows and oranges
Reds, scarlets, mauves, and burgundies
All congested together
Into a blasting color display
Turning the blue gradually
Into black nothingness
And bringing the darkening sky
Black behind the tail
Of the solar ball
As the sun sets
These colors get darker
Until darkness comes
At the very end
Russell Sivey
Contest: Poem about "Sunset"
Sponsor: Leonora Galinta
8/5/2013
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