~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
sun,
ablaze, brilliant,
rising, warming, illuminating,
horizon, decent, shadows, twilight,
cooling, dimming, settling,
quiet, faint
moon
Sproing!
What's that?
Joyful sun,
shining brightly,
ready for some fun,
radiant and sprightly.
Will my mom make me pancakes,
or will I scarf down Frosted Flakes
before I romp 'neath your warmth all day
to find out just how much one boy can play,
and before I grow tired, at last, and rest,
but first reluctantly get undressed
to avoid mother's frightful wrath.
I deign to take a vile bath,
and then it will be soon,
when, from my window,
I'll ask the moon,
will I miss
my 'night
kiss?
Pop!
sunshine
and birdsong
awaken them.
The boy gardener,
the sprout breaking the earth,
with the birds, they arise first,
leaving their beds to gather sun,
reflecting, quietly excited,
soil cultivated - a dream realized.
Vibrant growth, vines branch exponentially,
fueled by the sun, new life triumphs,
as boy and plant conquer the earth.
In time, nature sings it song,
flowers bloom, fruit ripens
as old vines wither
and turn to seed,
resting in
silent
night.
Our nature's growing old -
The wondrous weight to hold.
Uplifting tune of time
Subsides to farewell chime.
So dusk descends from dawn,
So golden days are gone.
Nothing that we can do,
When nature's call is due.
February 22, 2023
Inspired by R. Frost
dawn
rises
splendidly
with amber rays
spreading across sky
the joy of new day’s light
magic glazes the sky
as days seamlessly
pass into nights
painting rich
hues at
dusk
Aug 18, 2021
For The Merse Poetry Contest: Glory of nature
Sponsor: Malabika Ray Choudhury
Malabika's Merse form: this descriptive verse of two stanzas - starts with one word, one syllable - goes up to six lines with six syllables (increasing syllables). Second stanza vice versa - begins with six, and it ends with one word, one syllable (decreasing).
The black beyond gives way to light,
starting the early show,
in which horizon all ablaze
from arc of yellow glow.
Aloft, white satin veil reflects,
but half-lit ground a blur,
as it awaits a warming breeze
to make the thin grey stir.
Soon eye of day takes centre stage,
the leading part to play.
Colour, birdsong and fine perfume
bring life to new born day.
On thermal rise there rides white flock,
a major vapour show,
that on the top is brightest fleece
in contrast to below,
where it is one dull leaden mass
which makes us ill at ease,
for it does hold the forecast threat
– precipitate release.
Elsewhere the eye is still on stage
and actors on the scene.
Cumulus, stratus and cirrus,
a grand show to be seen.
Some hours on from noon they rest,
then closing of the eye,
when light is forfeit to the dusk
and return of black sky.
Watching from my window sill
I saw him walking, a lion in thrill
Streets shivering of his mighty shrill
On his call they come and fill
An army of dogs route march and drill.
Peeping through my window pane
A group of birds landing on the lane
Through which cars flown in train
Now laying like a snake in pain.
Prying eyes through melancholy windows
I saw spring sprouting fast in meadows
Nature dancing reviving lacking human shadows.
For bringing back her magical touches
As she strikes, one but all happily blushes.
Oh, dear mother, forgive your prodigal sons.
Awful calmth of streets in still
Sinking my spirits in silence they remain
Without the treading feet of two legged fellows
One and twenty days freed from his clutches
Nature will revive, but her sons fearfully in their prisons.
Honorable Mention in Minuanetta Poems Poetry Contest sponsored by Emile Pinet
The sky invites us openly to dance around the rim of daily grinds
if only we would listen,
the clouds implore us earnestly to weep when sorrow calls but sadly we are deaf, the sea, it opens up its gallery of ocean murals, salted fables, naval yarns, dawn to dusk,
if only we, the Royal We, would use those faculties that Mother Nature gifted us
strange how the day shuts down, suddenly bleak,
as when the dawn crested three-quarters past six.
cumbersome eyelids befriend pen and ink —
outline of skinny trees, lack of stars,
hush’d homes — fig leaves do not hide them.
visible neighbors smoking chimneys.
the sooted smell of winterscape
as she falls fast asleep.
12/18/2019
There is heavenly bliss in the sunrise…
The sun is the giver and the taker of life
The grandmaster of spectacular manifestation
The god of the ancient civilizations
The sentinel of our times
The star of our world;
There’s magic in the picturesque sunset…
When the sun retreats
it sets the moon ablaze
drawing blood across the sky
melting into the tumultuous sea.
It stirs up the waves into a fierce frenzy
unleashing a horde of deep shadows
that engulfs the shoreline in darkness.
Turn wheresoever I might
I see mesmerizing celestial light…
Oh what a soul-soothing sight!
~Dawn or Dusk contest by Emile Pinet
When I awake each early morning
And my eyes adjust to dawn
I see what Mother Nature's brought
Today...there's rabbits on my lawn
Tulips and roses of shades of red
And yellow and pink carnations
Flowers growing everywhere
Beautiful - god creations
A picturesque sky...way up high
The rising of the sun
Trails and trails from bunnies tails
The rabbits on the run
In fading moon - a kit raccoon...
Hides beneath a tower
Scared from chimes - ringing
Church bells on the hour
Soon the moon man hides his face
And says good-bye - but not in brusque
He says good day, live life...go play
Before the day turns dusk
Dusk or Dawn (New Poems Only) Poetry Contest
Sponsored by Emile Pinet
7/20/2018
A reunion awaits us..
My love
As I long for your embrace..
Even though much time has passed..
Our love is timeless..
As it is immeasurable..
From dawn to dusk..
I await your return..
With every passing day
My heart continues to ache..
Do not know how much more of this..
I can take..
Missing you immensely..
As there is an empty void..
Praying I will fill the void..
Just to feel whole once again..
From dawn to dusk...
I await your return
Gazing upon the clear blue sky..
Pure white lovely doves
Fly high upon the sky..
Doves flapping their wings ..
As they fly..
Beautifully and effortlessly
A heavenly view it is..
Peace and love..
Are messages from up above..
Brought to us
By white doves..
Until we meet again, my love..
From dawn to dusk..
I await your return..
Dawn
sunrise
daylight breaks
the sun beams down
colours set ablaze
shadows slowly lengthen
now the sun begins to set
dusk now rules over the earth
shyly the moon peeks out
starlight brightens all
twinkling silver
in the sky
darkness
fades
Being a lover of the classics
my show would be classically true
all the great composers would play
to lift listeners hearts that I would do
Raise the profile of young and new
these future prospects would perform
grabbing hold of today's audience
showing that this music is the norm
From dawn to dusk on the air
interviewing real classical talent
Mutter, Benedetti, Bocelli, Netrebko
just a few to get classical pulses sent
So that would be my show
loving every minute of it all
to bring pleasure to the many
music at it's height supremely tall
AUTHOR NOTES:
Just some thoughts if I had the opportunity to have my own radio show
and what I would want it to be.
Do you love me on this fine summer's day
as I dream of the bottle brush bees?
Your heart answers 'yes'
fly beneath me, I'm blessed
as I swim through the thickening breeze.
The moon and the stars
are eternally ours,
a betrothal 'tween nature and men
In your slumber tonight
love your summertime wife
as we fly on the wing and the mend.
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