Till the blooms are fed the aura
That low gleams the distant hills,
Glistens the dewy flora,
Enlights an ever bluing sky—
Glint and sparkle befell the swelling rill
Shall delight my sleep weary eye
Nature folds away her tinting hues
That dab each petal such singular art
Till blossoms burst forth and sunlight suffuse
The myriad colours of the mouldering heart
That even such as I, a waking recluse,
Cannot feel—a thing apart
No dew for the dandelions aloft
Their needles do not sting
No song is sung as soft
As the first notes of spring
The robin sings a far off melody
A cricket chirps in the wings
A squirrel sure unseen,
In the hollow of an oak tree
Are doubtless splendorous to glean—
What simple joys the morning brings
When we add ourselves to the scene
I know
you're wondering
who's really
pulling the strings
Puppeting things
unbeknownst
to you
The lines between
the lies & truth
are blurry
They hide what's true
in a hurry
to blind you to
the weight of the storm
You're beneath
a bevy of flurries
that weigh more
than imagined
The reality is heavy
& I imagine you're
looking for answers in
all the wrong places
Empty spaces
where clean mirrors
used to be
You can no longer
glean a clear reflection
due to all the
dirty projections
Harsh lessons
being taught in
the dead of winter
classes
No one passes
in the thick of it all
unless you're shoveling
your fastest
Watch as snowballs
metastasize into the size
of glaciers & roll before
you've had a chance
There's no running from
this avalanche no matter
where you go or
what angle you take
I suppose
they want you to
just accept your fate
& make a snow angel
dawn spills gold on waking sky
cloud-feathered paths drift soft and high~
each widening glean a cray
of light ascending day’s first wing
Salmon over the fire, we put that out, the sore as ever white squirrel was no rainbow trout as so with ease we enter carts and carry stones to inter arts, beneath our belts with revelry we askance doors and permissively glean and truest artform ever-bent we learn like ghosts with spirits spent, for which one brooding carefree word arises, past-tense like before this coming.
gem curvative dares jeweller
raw in form frequencies utter
each face fractal superlative —
dares jeweller gem curvative
sees she bright pendant perspective
each face fractal superlative ~
blow torch on the precious stone see
bright pendant perspective sees she
agree ! rapture names her trade's game
design is to lure one of fame —
timeless elegance captures fee
her trade's game name rapture, agree !
an heirloom gleans this gem to be
timeless elegance captures fee
jeweller's unmatched finesse see
this gem to be an heirloom, glean …
Destroyer, discrepancies.
How to sort them out?
Dismantle, then fire post-freeze.
River, run rue rout.
Destrier, to break mid-stride.
Sacrifice a pawn.
Midnight train, buy ticket, ride.
That will mow the lawn.
Priceless? Quite a prize? Surmise.
In passing? En prise.
Ring? Alchemy. Arcane? Rise.
Stifled cries? No lies.
Falconer, thy widening gyre.
Second coming? Now.
Come and see? Fine funeral pyre.
Live wire, take a bow!
Broil and char? From near to far.
Muskellunge and gar.
Peacocks pretty, poison par.
Dream, seem. Lead. Red star.
Serenity? Stable, sage.
Madness, mycophage.
Roundabout, rill. Rusty cage.
Symptoms mad, thy age.
Ark electric, how you burn.
Tones, burst sonic flame.
Mind cartoons? Ashes in urn.
Same game? Claim the name.
Armies, mechanize and wail.
Never end, our tale.
Weak resistance stale, you fail.
Blaspheme, boil and bail.
Silver, sickles. Red regrets.
Automaton, glean:
He who risks it all once bets.
Wind and wintergreen...
addicted to a familiar routine
it could simply be just an evening walk
on feeling the need to comply we glean
our ego’s cravings continue to stalk
so in nonchalance we watch body talk
but the fact that we noticed sets us free
our response any, we roam earth carefree
As the Snow falls by the lake
A white sheen it has to forsake
But the blueness of the water so still
That trickles and yet still turns the mill wheel
The shining figure that was once a tree
By the water’s edge growing wild and free
However, its branches now all covered in white
And makes for a ghostly sight at night
The surrounding ground a carpet no less
As the Snow lies, quite thick I guess
To walk by the lake, a wilderness dream
Which looks and feels so quiet and serene
Its Christmas time and all that entails
Now’s the time that Frogs and Snails
Disappear to their winter retreat
Out of sight and mind, that’s kinda neat
Once the Lake freezes over it’s on with the skates
And off we go me and all my mates
Though it’s cold who cares, were free
The Snows no barrier to them and me
A scene as picturesque as this
Caught early morning as the Sun has kissed
The rippling water and the lands surrounding glean
Quite a sight, nature’s special sheen
When life's falling apart it seems
Even though you've done all you can do
Will you give up now on your dreams
Or look for help to get you through
You should not be going alone
When life's falling apart it seems
Instead seek help from those who've grown
To where your life can be redeemed
In failure you can wisdom glean
As long as pride's not in our way
When life's falling apart it seems
We should then get on knees and pray
I've seen that help that's from above
Will be to you a well-placed beam
That comes from Him who's full of love
When life's falling apart it seems
For the Open the Door and Enter the World of Possibilities Poetry Contest
Butterflies float
With petals and feathers
In every note
Of your voice. In its tenor -
Nectarine, white,
Full of light, full of sky -
There is delight -
And I will not ask why
Sometimes your voice
Shimmers like a bright star -
Sometimes it's close
Sometimes it's far
Sometimes I hear in it
Rivers and streams
Sometimes I see in it
Passions and dreams
Sometimes it crests
Like a wave in a sea
Sometimes it nests
Like a bird in a tree
Sometimes it rings
Like a vanishing bell
Sometimes it sings
As if casting a spell -
Sometimes it flings
Like a lasso, ensnares
Prey. Or grows wings
And then flies everywhere -
Sometimes it drops
Like a leaf from an oak
Sometimes it stops
Like a belltower clock
Sometimes it wafts
Like a sweet summer breeze
Or like a raft
It floats over the seas -
Sometimes I feel it
Caressing my ear
Holding me in it
Drawing me near.
Sometimes I glimpse
What your voice holds within
When it so seems,
I can fully glean
Its warmth and softness
Its passion and peace
Then I am lost in
The most perfect bliss.
Sophie is wallowing in the despair of her furlough
it suits her; she enjoys pain, anguish and disappointment.
Her sister Henrietta tries to instill hope, but her attempts are thwarted.
Some people choose the land of depression over everything else.
Sophie is a professional at this; she has made a career out of it.
No one has had more car wrecks, accidents or mishaps at work.
It would be impossible to find someone more desperate to glean gloom.
Henrietta is a Pollyanna, a quintessential optimist., wasting her time.
The other sisters giggle about this behind her back, not realizing….
She is doing the work of the angels; what we should all be doing.
The universe is here to inspire, uplift and alleviate stress.
Can you imagine how terrific this world would be if we all inspired hope?
wipe the slate clean
that soul’s sheen shines
thus glean the truth
my eyes glean a shape
in the lurid dark
I go for it through the cold
edge of night
my fingers touch mist
a memory flickers
unreliable as an old film
did the window face east or west
I cannot quite place the shadow
the mirror shows a face I know
the lines etched with years
yet the eyes peering back
hold a question I cannot answer
I reach for the tangible cup
its ceramic warmth steadying
a brief anchor in the soft drifts
I watch the dust motes dance
in a beam that isn't there
or maybe it is everywhere
we build lovely castles
of brick and glass
and then the walls begin to breathe
slowly
imperceptibly
turning to watercolour
perhaps reality is just
a shape we hold
in the mind
for duration of the breath
and when that breath eases out,
what structure remains
is only the echo
of believing.
Dear Lord,
I'm ready to sip the trumpet's venom.
I'm ready for the flood, the white fire fingertips.
To rinse the devil's grin into the abyss....
I pray the predators have a slow-motion bleed.
A cut of their chandelier's electricity.
I pray, Lord, you let the children gather wings.
To make their way into eternity.
Dear Lord.
I'm ready for a refurbishing of Eden.
A smoothing of a fractured soul
A refurbishing of our twisted strand.
An immaculate rebirth-a pristine gold.
Dear Lord.
I'm ready-so bring it on.
Lay it on thick and heavenly strong.
Bring the shadow of your blackest song.
Bring on the rapture
Flood their islands, crumble their castles
Cool down their nuclear reactors.
Lay a scythe to proud pyramids and rocket ships.
Treat their cock roach souls
like they've treated our children's dreams and hopes.
I pray you glean the gems from clay.
The lily from the winter pond of Monet.
Woe - A poem from Isaiah 5:20
Woe to those who stride with pride and call evil good
Woe to those who hush the noise from voices they have shunned
Woe to those whose hands held high on Sunday,
Hit hard the humble and the good on Monday
Woe to those who stride with pride their clothes of gold and silver
Woe to those who glimmer and glean with false light all over.
Woe to those who sing and chant and dance about
Sprinkling light of all their marvelous deeds, while little ones die in shadows
Woe to those who stride with pride, feeding food of bitterness and gall
Woe to those who salt their words and breed arrogance all over
Woe to those who call the bitterness of their actions sweet and
take the sweetness of the our young ones and point out every child as bitter.
May we all take note of those who stride about,
look into a mirror and guarantee that the one who strides, does not begin with me.
Chantelle Smith
09 Feb 2026
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