Two Cabbage Whites fluttering
Through the warm summer air
And I'm watching them drowsily
From my comfy garden chair.
Leaves are whispering muttering
In the light steady breeze
Blowing through a neighbour’s
Tall, mature, garden trees.
The tomatoes are blushing on
The four plants we’ve got
Standing on the patio, each
In its own deep ceramic pot.
I let their fragrance§
Envelop my face
And i’m transported to
A different time and place.
To the long gardens behind
The blacksmith’s yard
Overhung by the trees
From the village graveyard.
Tomatoes in the greenhouse
With that very special smell
And the taste of stolen fruit
That i remember so well.
Hidden by the plants
Eating one or two
Deliciously home grown
Wondering if dad knew
Creeping in there
Time after time
Carefully repeating
My little acts of crime.
In a very different garden now
Just as tall but different trees
But still the same treesong
Drifting on a different breeze.
Both places of happiness
And, memory being kind,
They are now forever linked
In the recesses of my mind.
I've spread my blanket on the ground beside
the trunk of a majestic willow tree.
I relish how its long, green, wispy leaves,
which almost touch the ground, envelop me.
I watch them swaying in the gentle breeze
as I sit--silent, lost in pensive thought.
As one who feels that solitude can lead
to peace, I've found the perfect spot I sought.
I brought my pen and paper just in case . . .
but suddenly I’m nodding and my eyes
are closing. For a little while, I'll sleep.
Perhaps I’ll write a poem when I rise.
gossamer mists
dawn from nowhere
cross the lane,
sheer and diaphanous
they envelop the sunlight
in a web of mystery
the wind seeks to reveal
with soft puffs of breath
under the covers
day creeps to dusk
shadows stretch across the field,
drawing long dark veils
as threads, to strand the day's end.
They unravel their camouflage
to shield all the slumberers
trying to sleep
under the covers
like a sunny day
before the weather changes . . .
the man Mom once knew
To this day I still recall my strongest childhood memory. Dad is driving us to the seashore.
The sun follows us, a happy fellow, beaming in the mid-morning’s azure sky. In the back seat with my two sisters, I’m looking out the window as I crunch on Mom’s homemade salty Chex Mix, anticipating the warmth of salt spray from the waves I’ll be jumping on this beautiful day -
"Life is a beach" not yet even in my vocabulary.
We are now at the shore, a large blanket laid out, Mom with her bright red hair tied back with a brighter red checked scarf, and my dad, dark-haired and handsome, smiling. So rare is this happy countenance he wears today! For a while I sit as if entranced, watching the waves roll in.
But eventually, and predictably, my joy ebbs like the tide.
Dark clouds are gathering; gray begins to envelop the sky. I look over to my dad; the gray has recaptured his face. In the vanishing sunlight, familiar dark thoughts invade my mind -
Dad, can I see you be happy just once for a whole day?
the man I never knew
living in my memory . .
a sad sunless day
The shattered glass on the wall shows a crooked reflection of the soul I once had,
That child smiles at me as if she can't see the life ahead- no time limit to her joy, no suffering in sight,
Bloodstained shadows envelop me, like the embrace of a home I've never been to.
I never thought i'd have to bid valediction to a memory i'd fabricated- but when you've been isolated in your realm and burdened by your creation, that child's light begins to fade...
The helmet on my head is forged from divine carcass: the spine of an unfortunate challenger.
My crown is my armour, my symbols of office, I can't risk my throne or my realm or my mind.
My sanity is spent but reality is bent to my bidding: I can't crack the facade if the illusion is the truth.
Hail, heavy avalanche of milky whiteness.
A soft mountain moving in the dark.
Yumpy, your pale mass defies gravity.
Midnight strikes, and the thunder begins.
The floorboards groan beneath your charge.
Four paws drum a chaotic rhythm.
Sleep flees before your blinding furriness.
You hunt ghosts while the world rests.
Hoodoos and whatsits tremble at your pounce
Beneath the moon, a fat phantom flies.
You reject the quiet, gentle night.
A restless spirit wrapped in creamy fluff.
My closed eyes watch you blur past.
While chase scenes envelop my dreams.
I kneel down in solitude,
in an empty room all alone,
I try my best to communicate with God.
So difficult to focus inward,
more so to focus outwards to my Lord,
trying to accomplish my journey
of joy, discovery and growth.
Doubts linger in my memories:
have I a true and just heart?
My Father who art in heaven,
teach me to appreciate your gift,
a gift of faith, even if it's weak.
Give me strength that it might grow,
help me understand its value,
for I am blind even if I have sight.
Let your forgiving grace
envelop my hardened heart,
make it malleable to appreciate
your merciful stance.
Let that important gift of faith
guide me in my ways in life,
for without it I am not justified.
Out of the depths, I cry to you, O Lord;
hear my voice. Let your ears
be attentive to my cry for mercy. (Psalm 130)
As the bass thunders through my ears
Some stress disappears
Pent up anger releases
Full body tension decreases
Music is my way to let go
I freeing feeling to feel less low
The bass must be at one hundred percent
For any relief or content
Bouncing off every wall unrestricted
Only my mind inflicted
Everything has to vibrate
For my soul to mitigate
The toxic feelings I have developed
To not consume me and envelop
My only way to control
The deep pain in my soul
aesthetic
intuition
metamorphosis
&envelop
beauty
a paradox
of
ambiguity
underpins
the
everyday
heroics
deviations
delight
in
elaboration
of
the conspicuous
I've severed my conscious from the backplates of my brain. I’ve pleated vine and cord through the cracks of my rib, bedsores spreading across my ever-paling appearance. I haven't left this hole in weeks.
I get nauseous at my own proof of life, conviction, correction of every flaw flowing out the gaps in my crooked mouth. I let insecurity envelop me, so I hide. I hibernate through nightfall and shorter sunshine. I paint powder over blemishes and broken bones. I crave to be coddled in frozen droplets and sheer fabrics that cool my skin; But I can't bear to be draped in anything but harsh winter coats and the pudge that distorts my figure.
Maybe, I'm addicted to hatred. A taste so strong I can only starve it out of my system - though I'd drown in the taste of every regret I've shoved down. Every loss of control is sharp at the end, blackening my ivories and souring my savory-sweet till I'm all overt ailment and I can't salt the snow that strikes me.
Over time, I've been pricked and prodded. What is now only winter breath replacing empty calories down my throat. What was once soft snowfall is now avalanche, and I can't bring myself to do anything but lay down and freeze.
Autumn twilight remembers, breathe
Shadows envelop the singsong colors of dreams
Who are brisk as the purgatory where summer’s grace
Quietly cheers as the impatient feel of autumn
Replaces the sun with waves of orange and gold
Mahagony memories, bold – flames of the season’s tears
When I least expect it,
BOOM, a trigger,
and then come the dark thoughts
I try my best to be positive
and focus on the good things in life
but sometimes life gets so hard
I need to reach out for help
I did and I am glad!
But I can see how you could
let the dark thoughts envelop you
until that's all you can see or feel
I am doing my best not to let that happen
and I am getting the help I need
but life is hard for me right now
So, if you know someone struggling
be the hand of kindness and mercy
You really never know what someone
is truly going through by the outside
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I walked through the woods this morning, nary an animal crossing my path. The only sounds I heard were birds chirping, small animals collecting nuts, and my feet as they gently landed on autumn’s leaves and the decaying pine straws.
I rounded the bend and paused just in time to witness the sun’s gradual ascent into the enormous Texas sky. I closed my eyes and stood perfectly still letting the silence envelop me. In the distance I heard them, geese honking. The blue air above me was filled with a skein of wild geese flying in V-formation.
They glided together effortlessly through the sky, homeward bound for the season. I stood in awe watching them noticing the geese had a pride about them, as if they were aware of their own magnificence.
fall equinox brings
skein of geese flying above
interrupts silence
wild geese, sunlit sky
V-formation heading south
seasonal journey
boldly unimpressed
by opinions, fears, and doubts
geese trust the Knowing
Lighting a cigarette, I take a drag, letting the signature scent and taste envelop me: slightly bitter tobacco with the lingering taste of mint.
Lying back, staring at the light blue sky where the clouds create a flawless abstract piece of art.
Closing my eyes, I feel the grass tickling my skin where my clothes fail to cover.
Birds flying overhead, gliding on the breeze, slowing as they approach their destination.
Black and yellow honeybees work hard, hovering over every flower in their sight.
Suddenly, thunder booms so loudly I open my eyes, blinking away the fog. I realize I’m sitting in my chair and it was all a daydream.
Now here I sit, gazing out the window to see the rain coming down harder than before, hitting the window pane.
Drip… Drip… Drip…
The breast of the Carolina wren sighs,
and the tinge of autumn glorifies the
silent beauty of his engraved name on
marble and granite,
a tribute to the youth bridegroom
known for the cherish of his gleaming
love he had in life.
A cascading veil of lace,
white roses,
teardrops,
a pall cast over his bride and
nuptial guests.
Hail him, with his heart that had
goodness, generosity, and joy.
The bridegroom died on his
wedding morn.
In a passage of mortal to eternal,
the sparrows dedicate sorrow in
autumnal songs to him.
His betrothed stands in the grass,
her groom, her love, in
September’s embrace,
In the mourning fields.
North Carolina bereavement is
everlasting,
in her mountains of gold and
crimson,
her Piedmont, her coast.
Such lament aflame-
unbridled in its pain.
Our paean rings of his song,
his tragic journey to join the Lord
and His angels,
as the mist shrouds envelop
his bride,
in the mourning fields. ~
Sub Categories
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.