Crackling of clouds, zigzag of light.
Puzzling the parks, jigsaw of sight.
A Summer storm, finding a spark.
Darkness of green and humid bark.
Adventure’s out, it’s boredom’s hymn.
Travel stories filled to the brim.
Not quite exciting as an ark -
Darkness of green and humid bark.
Balloons looming, red, white, and blue.
Will this cutout give me a clue?
Birds don’t chirrup, outside is stark.
Darkness of green and humid bark.
Little by little filling day.
Scrutinizing pieces in play.
Too quiet, whistling for lark.
Darkness of green and humid bark.
These fingers and eyes sharp’ning skill.
My adrenaline needs refill.
Need to find, national landmark,
Darkness of green and humid bark.
Alas, ‘tis a tire, a tire o’thy ire
Hilli-ho! Bless ye enlightenment so,
O wonder is glutinous’n glory
Ho! So deem thee glutinous whence basking’n this glory!
Some push, some pull, cutting so deftly with idle energy
Chirrup! Ho, chirrup! Dance, do prance anyhow, everyhow
Professing unlike the former, latter insignificant thoughts
Chirrup! Why, clear away!
F’why hath this matter so?
Gladly glaze the superstition that supper is but brief
Conduct thee here, pulsing, thriving, alive here so
Bold young brooding worrywart
Thwart ye worries, in excitement and ecstasy and boyish buoyancy
And in an unbroken light enlighten, ho!
Stream beneath thee, bequeath thy soul!
F’one shall bask in glutinous glory afterall!
Yo-ho! Resolve thee, t’be a bran-new barmy mare.
28//1//26
In kannigaten
Resides a fair maiden.
Whenever I behold her face
I know in spring the green will resurface
The birds shall chirrup in the trees.
Bathed in the morning freshness.
The lavender of the coloured roses
Shall rent the air anew
A new birth shall be ushered in
Under nature’s glorious might
Through my glassy pictures
I behold your face
Presently a miniature I see now
Some day the real you will stand
Then will the world see Ann-Sotie
The fair maiden from Sweden
Creatures chirrup, chirp and tweet
Or warble in their way,
All so that in case they meet,
They’ll know just what to say.
It’s kind of like a human text
Or email or a call,
Preparing what to talk of next
If they connect at all.
Or maybe all this reaching out
Is just to hear expressed
The sounds that show what we’re about
To set our minds at rest.
Brackish lichen forms a raft upon the pond,
a low haze floats like a moored airship.
Small frogs chirrup sotto-voce
as if they were
dreaming sparrows.
Water birds dabble in their sleep.
Soon the sun
will dash across a drop of dew
bursting dams of light.
A fisherman in his truck
drinks his coffee,
rubs his eyes and smacks his lips.
He grabs rod and tackle,
hopes fat fish are lazily
rising.
Feathers shake off waterlogged shadows,
wings slap the groggy face of the pond,
ripples splash up
to rinse the air.
Coots and Plover call
until the water
awakes.
Bluebells are a symbol of humility, gratitude and constancy
A perfect day is not lackluster, nor lusting for more, but
rather knowing the plenitude in each sentient moment.
—Quote by Poet
An Edenic Rise
it’s perfect degrees
of sixty-one stimulates
a chirrup ‘cross screen
in pjs; my feet are bare
pedicured cerulian
better than Summer
and Winter’s too cold to bear
love perfect degrees
in slight chill of fahrenheit
add cup of Highlander Grogg
an Edenic rise
joyful sighs sans monotone
with cream in the cup
retiree with work to do
bluebells boon in afternoon
Twinkle, twinkle little tweets
In the trees, not treading streets
Just one chirp, from each true bird
Each dawning day, thus feathers stirred
Twinkle, twinkle little tweets
Faithfully, the morning greets
Twinkle, twinkle, under sky
From loft branch, trills flutter-fly
Bright heralds do bring choice cheer
Expectation to my ear
Twinkle, twinkle, under sky
As sun dips, birds chirrup bye
"Every leaf speaks bliss to me
fluttering from the autumn tree."
Quote by _Emily Bronte
I love how each majestic tree will grow,
how each season is a moment in time;
and how each grand tree- her hued colors show,
oh, sparrow's chirrup and on a branch chime.
The dappled leaves a painted veil above,
brimming with song birds singing so happy;
a solitary soul with trees I love,
gathering the gold- squirrels are snappy.
There is no gloom in the grandeur of Fall,
oh, how the honey breath just reaches out;
but there is decaying of big and small,
on the ground red, gold jewels lay about.
Trees go to sleep to wake eternally;
but they still stand on guard externally.
Where have the matchstick men and women gone,
they used to walk home from the smoky factories
just to light up?
Where has the Pork Pie hat flown to?
Even the birds chirrup less sweetly,
Is it because my shoes are old
that I walk this way?
The world has shaved off its hairiness
and lovers are both bold and bald.
Where was the 'candlewick' spread
transported?
Blackpool used to be goofy,
a ton of chilly fun,
now the donkeys are unionized
and all smirched up.
I wish I were silly again, not this
cranky, potted egghead.
Where and when did I scramble myself?
Zippo stole away the matchstick men
that's who,
and they never came back again.
Sad but true now and then.
Cerulean blue on blue, the sky is in the lake,
In a season of windswept clouds, sun baked,
At yellow hilltop cottage, a chirrup outbreak,
Red flowers line its winding path, no mistake!
The prince of noon and queen of blooms meet,
In red and golden splendor, a fragrance treat!
Green is everywhere, with the colors candied,
But red rose emerges, with its own mystique!
Oh, the forest whispers to me,
as stained leaves on the ground crinkle;
and birds chirp and trill in a tree,
but too soon those leaves will wrinkle.
As I walk the wind groans and moans,
oh, the forest whispers to me;
soon the branches will be bare bones,
the crows cawing is like a plea.
Squirrels chirrup running with glee,
through the leaves that swirl, twirl and dance;
oh, the forest whispers to me,
the beauty puts me in a trance.
A stream that gurgles and thunders,
and ducks still quack and float carefree;
so many sweet scenes and wonders,
oh, the forest whispers to me.
_______________________
October 16, 2021
Poetry/Quatern/ The Stained Glass Forest
Copyright Protected, ID-10-1397-695-16
All Rights Reserved, 2021, Constance La France
Written for the Premier contest, Onomatopoeia
sponsor, Emile Pinet, Judged 11/13/2021
Fourth Place
Poem of the Day October 18, 2021
When the sun sets and darkness arises,
With million stars shining and the moon in different sizes.
People complete their chores so that they sleep,
And there is me admiring the scene not in a leap.
Looking up the sky my neck aches,
But the scene is worth it like chocolate cakes.
Making the star patterns and remembering the loved ones,
Want to go up the sky and run and have fun.
Looking at the moon changing its place,
For once it seems like a world with no pace.
The moon is no where to be seen, And oh I guess the night time is over.
When I saw the sun rising beautifully, And the birds start their chirrup song cover.
The death-like world came to life again,
Just as the start of the engine of a train.
Thankyou!
Come, my love, let's unfetter and glide high,
Your hues leave me breathless, to feel your breath I long;
My dreamy dotted wings, with you, yearns to fly,
And to chirrup in tune with your lilting love song.
Your hues leave me breathless, to feel your breath I long,
As I creep up on you and kiss you sweetheart;
And to chirrup in tune with your lilting love song,
I crave to be caged forever in your heart.
As I creep up on you and kiss you sweetheart,
My dreamy dotted wings, with you, yearns to fly;
I crave to be caged forever in your heart,
Come, my love, let's unfetter and glide high.
Date: 06/07/2021
Pantoum Rhyme Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Eve Roper
Number of the photo: 2
Spring is striking string of harp
resonating cheerful chirrup.
Indian Bulbul whistling singing
Migratory rosy Starling!
Pretty Parrots and Parakeets
form flock in social circuits.
Golden back Woodpecker restless.
Little Robin red breast careless.
Blue birds showing season of Spring
Migratory birds most surprising
we wake up at the crack of dawn
to view the gold sun rise
it’s a glorious sunny morn
let’s wander over verdant hills
crossing the patchwork fields
of vibrant xanthic daffodils
and watch them dance on zephyr breeze
their golden trumpets sound
as blackbirds chirrup in the trees
after a hike we’ll stop and rest
and gaze at the blue sea
our nature rambles are the best!
Writing Challenge - Tercets - Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Constance la France
10/16/20
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