This woodland stream could be a small English river,
it dibbles and dabbles, it meanders, and has the air
of an old water way, one that never saw the need
to rush or gush.
The small ripples pace themselves; a sepia rivulet
that tugs at a nutrient silt, carrying it down gently
to green pastures.
In autumn the fallen leaves add ocher flotillas
that sail into valley mists, never to return.
April showers refresh the brook,
it waltzes between tufted hillocks,
glides almost giddily between sky and earth.
If the path of the water flow has a name
it is known only to grazing cattle,
that drink of it,
and the meadow lark
that hovers high above the little beck
to sing of its native wandering ways.
Light
reflects
Autumn's ink
on smooth waters,
an image stirred by a passing canoe.
An image stirred by a passing canoe
on smooth waters,
Autumn's ink
reflects
light.
Fall
dabbles
red pigment,
strewn all about—
as Autumn arrives and Summer departs.
As Autumn arrives and Summer departs—
strewn all about,
red pigment
dabbles
Fall.
The gilding of the canopies
attests to Autumn's Midas touch,
whereas amber and orange leaves
are inlaid with gold filigree.
Jack Frost's icy breath ushers in
the gilding of the canopies,
and with yellow and crimson tints,
Nature dabbles in abstract art.
Fallen leaves crackle underfoot
as squirrels scamper for acorns.
The gilding of the canopies
signals that it's time to store nuts.
Honking geese begin flying south
over blazing leaves of scarlet,
yet the color change began with
the gilding of the canopies.
Litter on my mind
When I walk into the garden of my mind
I sometimes pick up weeds that must be rid of in the cold light of sanity.
A person, from the past, sent me a rancid email claimed
I had been lying when telling him I had crossed the Sahara barefoot when it was a simple spelling mistake
He also claimed that I had only been a cobbler's assistant and that knew nothing about upper soles of
clogs; it is a mystery how he found out I thought my abstract world was mine alone.
I'm told the rude, offensive person dabbles in electric matters.
I played with the idea of writing a devastating riposte
to this person, but two hurt people do not make one
person sane
I dignified silence is the best answer.
SPOUTING INKGASM
Time heals, season reveals,
It invigorates artistry & obliterates skills.
Profligacy of time mops up a beautiful mess,
saturated on the ageless smile of my empress.
But just like the simple touch on the nipples
that dabbles reasoning in sweet sequels,
and invites esctasy-like stimulation,
so your embodiment beguils my imagination;
extricating syntax from my indelible pen,
and causing a flow of inkgasm now & then.
VIck Manuel Poetry {VMP}
Form: Rhymes/The dizain.
Copyright ©? 5th April, 2023.
A man who enjoyed writing code
once took a wrong turn down a road.
Forsaking recursion,
he took an excursion,
now dabbles in sonnets and odes.
His java is still close at hand,
but now it is black and smells grand.
Who needs a compiler?
Just hike a two-miler;
the bugs are all out on the land.
Summer storms are thrashing
trees overladen with a lush glut
of arboreal heaviness.
Will the Fall enter through this crashing rain,
shall the canopy of a saturated season
crash now one leaf at a time?
I see fire in the sodden green,
it struggles to glow
and yet I watch it grow, become
and filter through.
The gale breaks not a single stem,
yet a more temperate breeze
hammers silently, burnishing,
a tinkering with copper shades
until at last an Autumn glaze
dabbles with bright or umber shades
and one leaf gently drops.
As Japanese cherry blossoms bloom pink,
Spring dabbles in assorted pastel shades.
When April rains offer the soil a drink,
water trickles as it flows and cascades.
Spring dabbles in assorted pastel shades,
purple crocus, and yellow daffodils.
Water trickles as it flows and cascades,
and green grass colors the valleys and hills.
Purple crocus and yellow daffodils,
pushing through the soil, summoned by the sun.
And green grass colors the valleys and hills,
for Winter lies defeated; Spring has won.
Pushing through the soil, summoned by the sun,
wildflower blooms carpet the forest floor.
For Winter lies defeated; Spring has won,
and Nature rearranges the decor.
Wildflower blooms carpet the forest floor
when April rains offer the soil a drink.
And Nature rearranges the decor
as Japanese cherry blossoms bloom pink.
(Pantoum)
05/12/2022
A RHYMING PANTOUM OF FIVE STANZAS Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: L MILTON HANKINS
*Image of Hope Member Feeling by Pixabay
AUDIO: Nuthin But A G Thang by Dr Dre & Snoop Dog
Hope
It begins
from depths within
unmeasurable plunging phantoms down
festerin' the grounds
Lingerin' up sounds
trace
sin
space
sing
Astir the Astros
call on the cosmos play-sures
endeavors
Psyche
assimilators consciousness
dabbles
Wake the dreamers
the unreal
the liars
The dream team
zookeepers senses that
it sucks as it pants in
suspense feeling
the zeal for
realism
Tangibles
hand-all with care
The Dreamer
Ahh! Wakes up now to form
just a tad late yet find I
brave and craving
Echoes from a conch shell
sounds of the see
voice articulates
to be alert and
reassert
Reach for the stars
else, no heaven be
simply permeate
and then create
the essence
It's dope when
one invokes!
HOPE ...
Loves and losses
revives
relived
rejoice.
2022 February 02
*1st Place*
A BRIAN STRAND INFORMEL
~~Brian Strand: Judged 2022 March 14
*Image of Human Wake Up Light by Pixabay.
The Eternals Wake
Afterlifer's believes consciousness dabbles, effecting furtherance,
gainsayers, henceforth, interjects jocularity,
knowledgeable limits mortality nonbeing ... obliviates predominating, quasistationary,
relinquishes significance tasked ultrafamiliar,
vaticinators wanderings xenial,
yearning zen.
2021 October 18
fall
is spring
in reverse
green leaves, bud bursts,
shrivel to brown, red,
tumble down and crumble
making pastel collage
dabbles of purple
orange, yellow
scattered in
lovely
daubs
Light of our lives
Kicking, he came
And then our world
Was not the same
Joy of our hearts
He's innocence
Making us laugh
With his presence
Love of us all
Childish babbles
Stolen our hearts
With his dabbles
Heaven's li'l child
Active and smart
How blessed we’re
To be a part!
Sunshine that smiles
Oh yes, that's him!
Such naughty acts!
Life's never dim
Song of our lips
He's truly that
His parents' gem
No matter what!
His dad's delight
His mom's treasure
Whate'er he does
Brings us pleasure
Go, spread your light,
Your love and joy
This world needs you,
Our bright young boy.
{This poem is about my young nephew}
written on 08.27.2021
For Regina McIntosh's "The One Who Touched My Heart" contest
SHATTERED SCREAMS
ECHOES OF OUR SILENT SCREAM,
TORTURE FROM A LEADER'S STEAM,
DWINDLING OF OUR NATIONS DREAM.
WE CHOOSE TO FIGHT AS A TEAM,
OR WATCH THEIR THEATRICS LIKE A FILM.
IF WE FIGHT, OUR VOCIFEROUS WEAPON IS HUSHED,
IF SILENT, OUR FUTURE IS CRUSHED.
TOLLGATE IS NOW THE BLOOD GATE,
WHERE HEROS OF JUSTICE LEARN THEIR FATE.
OUR VOICES ARE STRANGLED,
WE'RE MANHANDLED LIKE A STAR SPANGLED.
THE PILLARS OF OUR STRUCTURE IS FALLING.
WHO HURTS HIS CHILD AND FLOGS HER FOR WAILING?
RELEASING THE CAMOS, WOLFS IN DIRTY SHEEP'S CLOTHINGS
AND BLACKMARIAL TO HUNT DOWN CITIZENS.
INTERNAL TERROR SUMS UP MY ANALYSIS.
NIGERIA, YOUR ACTS DABBLES & DAGGERS MY HEART.
WHERE IS THE LABOUR OF OUR HEROS PAST?
OUR RESIDUE IS IN THE DEN OF THIEVES,
AND THE OLD CERTAINTY OF THE FUTURE HAVE BECOME MERE "IFs".
VickManuelPoetry {VMP}
Copyright© 14th Feb, 2021.
All About Japan
A feather plummets slacks downwards,
a sparrowhawk caught prey soars upwards,
bonsai trees grow its shadow midst sunrise,
cherry blossoms shade a path,
sugis eclipse a shrine,
maguro (tuna) swims the deep ocean,
unagi (eel) curves nearby Mount Fuji,
tako (octopus) struts whilst in motion,
fugu (pufferfish) deadly still, yummy,
pink perianths float
touch air then dabbles a creek
~clear blue spills cherries
2020 September 20
*1st Place*
Writing Challenge - Nature, Four in One
~~Constance La France
Listen, as brisk breezes begin
whistling, tickling the rustling leaves.
And hear children laugh as they play
amidst falling leaves in the fall.
Nature dabbles in abstract art:
tapping its palette's deepest depths.
And blending amber with scarlet;
captures Autumn's innate beauty.
But beauty is a fragile thing;
that can wither rather quickly.
And Winter's chilled breath sends shivers
running up the trees late at night.
Flurries carpet a drab landscape
with a fluffy, puffy duvet.
While fragile white flakes fall freely,
like feathers, tumbling in the wind.
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