The desolate wasteland of trepidation traversed
by my jagged life that strived relentless for so long
to smoothen the innate angularities of serrated mind,
swirling in the egregious whirlpool of sucking indignation.
Siphoned into sordid abyss of despondent delirium,
I searched out for myself a pathway of passion within,
leading through the pulsating portal to my affable heart,
not yet frozen passive in the prolonged winter of desolation.
The spring of longing came with fragrance of fervor,
floated on the dreamful wings of fleeting emotive time
across the flush of my floral heart where you had flittered
like a butterfly creating the cadence of chromatic symphony.
The concert of the mesmeric music of my yearning,
refrained the rhythm of concealed current called love,
that rolled between you and me to interweave us forever,
as engrossed emotions danced with the ripples of rhapsody.
What is that creature who lingers on the ’49 Ford? Asked Boss Hog.
We looked but were not sure until we saw the sniffing junk yard dog.
The red car with rust? The bookkeeper asked, wondering too.
Oh, yes, said Boss Hog. Is that a Faerie from the ocean blue?
I can go ask her I offered, but she flittered fast and away.
So I did not get to find out on that lovely October Monday.
It was a faerie, the junk yard dog said. I saw her filigree wings.
I thought it amazing that he could not only talk, but he sings!
The air called life flowed with the current of serenity,
my butterfly heart floated in the rippling zephyr free.
Its wings designing the lattice of your identity,
flittered with your enticing charisma to charm me.
The horizon splashed hues of ethereal ecstasy
on my dreams I bloomed as I was set beguiled to fly.
Rapture took me to the reverie realm of fantasy,
I didn’t see clouds gather at the edge of the ruined sky.
Splintered on the threshold of the tarnished twilight,
in deep abyss of dismay I found my sky’s ruin lie,
covering the debris of my dreams in the blue night.
Wrecked, I felt tears dry up in my disillusioned eye.
The flushed vale of love turned into wasteland fast,
wilted passion flower didn’t see the new sunshine spray.
The surge of sorrow drowned the snippets of the past,
colors of crumpled butterfly wings in ruin faded away.
________________
April 4, 2023
Word chosen : Ruin
Contest : Writing Challenge - "R" Words
Sponsored by : Constance La France
Unfading years draped you with grace
Like twilight tinged leaf you glowed
I floated around you on wings of dream
I thought I’d write a poem for you.
As we soaked the sheen of emerald meadow
The patina of dainty dawn you mirrored
On your face flushed by the sunburst sky
I thought I’d write a poem for you.
In my garden as the flowers withered
You blossomed with spectrum of lasting spring
My yearning flittered like beguiled butterfly
I thought I’d write a poem for you.
We’re drenched by mesmeric moonshine drizzle
The tinsels of longing rippled through me
Entranced me with enthralling rhythm
I thought I’d write a poem for you.
I sailed through the tempest of life
Couldn’t salvage the wrecked ship
As the ancient mariner didn’t reach the shore
All these poems I never wrote.
______________
October 8, 2022
I thought I would take a tiny walk about
A field of wild flowers was calling my name.
I sat among the Queen Anne’s lace, enjoying the sun.
She beat upon my shoulders a bit as I gathered violets.
On a whim I began to decorate my hair.
I looped dandelions together and made myself a crown.
I put one under my chin, and knew it would come up butter.
The sun and I laughed as a monarch flittered past.
It’s just you and me I told a brown cow on the other side of the fence.
She was not going anywhere, curious to see what I was about.
I took out a pen and began to write. Then I flopped down on my belly.
Where did all of these flowers go in the winter?
I put a few into my boots, and my boots laughed.
They were in a merry mood now, so I got more carried away.
When I returned home no one said a word.
It is what I do; it is part of being a nature-loving Gemini woman.
In this dark, I’ll create my light: ‘Rambi’
Switch gone realities to fantasies
lit green in sun and rains continual
Awash, rainbows flittered o’er land and sea…
Balm-like, soft thatch lightens my concrete tomb
Endless walls in a salty breeze dissolve
lifting heavy drapes to dance with palms tall
Languidly lacy, they sway where birds thrall
Ah! Warm sands I sip, drowning in aqua…
(12/28/21: Inspired by B forms contest)
My life faced tormenting time with future at stake,
writhed in the crushing clutch of stifling suffering,
my bequeathed heart splintered and bled in yearning ache,
no soothing arms I found reach out to me to cling.
In rough sea my boat sank in storm of agony,
for shelter I tried to swim to shore not in sight,
the inner voice told me to get detached and see
the rays of hope like the sun after the dark night.
From my heart a butterfly flew on latticed wings,
in rippling air it flittered on trail of sun ray
to the vale of rose blooming with sparkle of spring
under azure sky opening from gloom of grey.
I sensed sublime serenity suffuse my core,
my soul opened divine petals in deep abyss,
tranquility like summer rain began to pour
in my calm mind with surreal shower of bliss.
_____________________
December 11, 2021
Syllable count checked on HMS
Contest :"A" Forms, New Poems
Sponsor : Constance La France
Tired Angels
He was a lucky man by his side angels walked
or perhaps flittered a little jostling as they all wanted to be near him.
Absentminded, he came near the fiord walked across.
He was out cashing crabs that clung to the sheer cliff wall, yes, and a plastic bucket.
He got five crabs and walked back the same way the angels sweated he had trusted
(unknowingly) their blind faith in him,
to the point when some of them were at a point of giving up.
Looking after this person is hard. One angle sighed; the others mumbled in tacit agreement.
The angels watched him boil the crabs and eat everything, not offering them anything;
how could he?
We should have let go, one angel said, let him splash about with his bucket.
The thought of this made every angle laugh; one took out a harp and beautiful music-filled sea and
land with everlasting peace and the satisfaction of a job well done,
A tormenting time came in my life with future at stake
when writhing in the crushing clutch of stifling suffering,
my bestowed heart broke and bled in the pining ache,
and I found no consoling arms stretched to me to cling.
My boat wrecked on the high sea in the tempest of agony,
I tried to swim to the calm shelter of the shore not in sight.
Someone from within told me to get detached and see
palliative hope rises like the sun at dawn after painful night.
A butterfly flew out of my aching heart on latticed wings,
flittered through the rippling air on the bright trail of sunray
to the garden of roses blooming in the sparkle of spring
under the new blue sky emerging from the gloom of grey.
In the encompassing ethereal solitude I sensed in my core
the essence of my floral soul opens the petals within abyss.
The tranquil tolerance then began to liquefy and downpour
within my serene mind with the soothing shower of bliss.
April 23, 2021
Contest : Writing Prompt-Ache
Sponsor : Constance La France
Night fell,
Summer’s heat abating,
I sat leaning against a tall magnolia,
Its fragrance spreading everywhere
Like echoes of whispering breezes.
Despite all I could not rest and sleep.
The moon and stars were invisible now,
But darkness could not cover the glade.
Fireflies flittered here and there, glowing.
I was mesmerised by the fireworks of the night.
Suddenly I heard a delicate delicious melody.
Was it the fireflies orchestrating their symphony?
Soft enchanting tunes enticed the whole glen.
Could this be a dream descended from the hidden stars?
The melody changed, cadences tuned up and down,
The fragrance of the magnolia increased,
The moon appeared and all was bright.
Butterflies flew all around. Or were they fairies?
I could not tell for suddenly my eyes became heavy
And blissfully I slept as joyfully I dreamt.
The pixie of the thicket, the Wren, that wee russet bird, bodly flittered forth with a staccato rhthym of wing beats. It flittered forth from dense garden thicket and proceeded to proclaim ire at my intrusion. With tail lifted high and head lowered, this sorrel scolding sprite reminded me of why I admire it so.
The bold feathered vagabond emerges from the safety of tangled flora recesses and chatters away at giants, giving them the what for, then darts away to sing melodic verses of pure joy. What lessons could one learn from this miniature passerine? For the Wren dwells in humble low settings, not worthy of mighty birds of prey. Yet, its heart is surely to be admired. Its indomitable spirit brings a smile to my face and lifts my own spirit to remind me that even seemingly insignificant creatures have a voice.
Oh mighty wee one, how I delight in you!
The forlorn wasteland of deprivation traversed
by my indigent life that tried long so very hard
to smoothen the angularities of the obtuse mind.
Swirling in egregious whirlpool of indignation,
sucked into the abyss of despondent delirium,
I searched out for me a path of passion within,
leading through the pulsating portal to my heart,
not yet frosted in the bare winter of desolation.
The spring of desire came with hour of awakening,
soaring on the dreaming wings of the flying time.
In my sky you flittered like an beguiled butterfly,
its fluttering cadence created a silent symphony,
synchronized with the rhythm of my revived heart,
where emotions danced on the ripples of rhapsody
that rolled endlessly between two of us to entice me,
and to consecrate the divine institution called love,
make it diaphanous weaving the delicate tapestry
with motif of belonging for us to unfurl in eternity.
August 28, 2019
Brian Strand's Contest A Brian Strand July 14
The queen of the monarchs had yet to land
Her subjects, waiting, for her royal command
They dare not take a nibble, a sigh or a drink.
She made the first move, so they pondered a think.
One little monarch almost made a swift move.
But her elder nudged her, and she lost all her groove.
She did not understand that royalty always goes first.
Her day which started badly simply got worse.
Butterfly brigade gave her the cold wing treatment now.
They ignored her pointedly, and called her names like old sow.
She felt horrible, until the queen called her to her side.
You may eat with me, she told her, let the tormenters hide.
The other butterflies were ashamed for they knew better.
They flew around like crazy, and flittered with fetter.
They soon apologized and said they would never be mean.
And the little monarch was invited to go live with the queen.
Camera
Once I found a camera, swept up
on a beach. I picked seaweed off
it like strands of hair, unwashed.
A crab’s claw, no body of note,
clasped the shutter as if protector,
a titan from the deep: the memories
caught within secret. The screen flittered and
buzzed, popped into life and suddenly
I was married - a wife, brown skinned, plaits down to shoulder,
and had children - twins, sobbing eyes clenched against a flash.
I’d painted a nursery - cot, blinds, seahorse mural,
and cooked Christmas lunch – steam frozen above a turkey, crackers caught in a silent bang.
Before the light fizzled and faded, before that life dimmed,
I’d swum with dolphins too,
held a sunset, liquid orange balancing, inside a palm;
even snapped the inside of a backpack, contents blurred.
The screen dissolved. I returned it to the sea,
but not before adding one empty click of me.
she flittered, she flew
taxing her wings, little sputtering things
with each teeny-tiny flap - a sparkle of gold
twinkled her wee little sky
up
up
up
she goes
faerie friends laughed at her goal
to see the heavens from Redwood Mount
the tree tickled by her effort
and sparkling breathless
arrayed with golden boots, skirt
then shirt
she lands and sleeps
for awhile dreaming of stars
circling her weary nest
maternal arms gently wrap
around this teeny-tiny force of nature
she yawns and sees the dawn
colors imagined only on the ground
paint the horizon
she waves her wand
and captures specks
her pointy toes will touch the earth
after the sunshine of Summer
the hallelujah winds of Fall
brisk snow of Winter
and in the flowery Spring she lands
as the faerie applause explodes
barely whispering in the ear’s of a gnat
1/5/2019
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