From the drab green-brown worm of caterpillars and pupae,
Emerges the phosphorescent butterfly so pleasing to the eye!
But, why oh why, are butterflies so superbly colorful,
That we admire the fleeting flutters and flashes as wonderful?
Is it to say: "Be warned I'm toxic don't you dare eat me!"
Is it to attract a mate or mimic leaves, or flowers, Tweedledum dee?
For the worm which once crawled on leaves with heavy down-trod tread,
Knew what splendor with patience lay within to burst out ahead.
Like the ugly duckling shun by clutch contentious, and mum,
That transforms to a magnificent white swan glistening in the sun!
Alice said: "When you have to turn into a chrysalis and butterfly on queue,
I should think you’ll feel it a little 'strange', I would, won’t you?”.
“Not a bit,” said the Caterpillar, with a leer and sneer for all to hear.
"You'll get used to it in time,” as it sucked its hookah into gear.
As the morning dew lies on the flower,
glistening in the sun,
so will the Spirit that comes down on you,
reflect the glory of His love.
He will pour out His living water,
drench your parched dry soul,
He will bring life to the dead in faith
making you alive and whole.
Come to the voice that calls you,
hear and believe what He has to say,
Abundant life He will pour into you,
For in Him you may be made new today!
guilt. Guilt guilt
my very bodily make up
my life’s Romance after romance.
Every roadmap has led to this single moment
dark, black sludge that starts slowly at the toes
slowly makes its way over and on top of my feet
crawling up and over my calves
why is it so thick like that?
Trying to move just an inch but it won’t let me budge
but continues to consume my body.
It is to my belly now.
How did it happen so ing fast?
Despite being scared at least I can still breathe.
It hasn’t gone into my chest just yet
what is that touching my chin?
oh ! It’s still here.
Hard to ignore now.
Feels like it’s taken over my life.
I try to push it away but it fully consumes me anyway
all because I am happy and enjoying life.
Why is there pain from feeling the utmost joy and pleasure in freedom?
Why can’t I just breathe easy?
But instead the dark black sludge is in my lungs,
each breath more labored than the last one
It has me cemented to the ground
while glistening in the sun and moon light
people gape in awe of how beautiful it looks on the outside,
but if I dare let them in,
they’d be stuck here too,
with nowhere to run or move.
On his raft, the lone traveler was now at a couple of cable lengths from the two islands. He could distinctively see the trees.
He smiled. At last, he would have some fresh fruits to eat instead of conserves and salty ham.
To reach to forest, one had a cliff to climb. The other had a welcoming beach.
He chose the warm sand glistening in the sun.
The paradise of hope was clear.
Above all, for the inhabitants of the island, hungry cannibals, happy to see fresh meat.
The tree of life is like a family growing and changing through life's journey.
Each delicate member of its family spreads its wings and departs to make their own way through this world.
Traveling by wind, seeing new places, meeting new faces, and finding a new home. Then life grows old and the journey ends.
But as they lay quietly on the ground, mixing with the earth, a new life begins. The tree of life starts again and the family sticks together glistening in the sun, nourishing their souls with the rain, and slumbering on long days and nights.
The tree of life is ever changing.
Your mother’s glass. The only one in the cabinet that
does not match the others. It’s beautiful. Purple
crystal scattered on linoleum like a layer of fine
mauve dust. The first tear falls from a thousand
fractaled faces, glistening in the sun. Birds turn
dirges in the late autumn air, as you push slivers
into the dustpan—the vision of her soft hand around
the glass fades with each reluctant sweep. Tears
pool in your eyes and you wonder why she gave
you such maladroit arms, sunspotted and shaky. Or
a brain wired to prefer the taste of Diet Coke in a
glass over ice, just as your mother did. Shards clink
in the trash, your tears race them to the bottom. The
lid closes in a soft thud—the birds stop singing
Each bon mot melts with
Nuanced, age-old symbolic flavors --
Growing, changing, challenging me.
Language arts baffle me.
Institutional norms perplex me.
Slowly, I listen for that precise sound.
History’s echoes bounce off my walls,
Heaving meanings like so many dock workers.
Overhead, cargoes glide by glistening in the sun.
Movers eye the carts going forward.
Only I stand still.
Purposefully, I dream of…
Houses filled with treasures – elegant libraries!
Open-hearted, I find and survey my grotto.
Nothing seems impossible as I
Enter into a new dwelling and
Seek to be transformed.
Sea shells on the beach,
Glistening in the sun.
Feeling all alone just lying there.
Remembering being swept away,
From my family.
Yelling, screaming
Being pushed away now all I see are,
little dots in the ocean.
I am gone never to return again.
I am forever lost
We went swimming
The blue sky reflected in the mirror surface,
the forest covered hills all glistening in the sun
No clothes, tanned skin, soft, wet, your eyes smiling
Our bodies breaking the mirror in laughter and splashes
Breath taken from the first coldness
Then warmth
Circling, floating, we swim in the expanse
Surrounded by green under open skies
Caressed by clear water, refreshed in it’s clasp
We approach, hands take hands
Arms encircle
We kiss the water drops from soft tender lips
Eyes softening, we hold tight
Legs entwined, floating, a freedom seldom felt
Laying back, gazing in love, adoring such beauty
We went swimming
2021
fall
leaves
brilliantly glistening in the sun
many
beautiful colors
red yellow and orange
Date Written:10/8/2020
Note: The septolet has fourteen WORDS. It is broken between two stanzas to make up the fourteen words. Each stanza can have seven words each but that is not a requirement. Both stanzas deal with the same thought and create a picture.
The eye refracts the light and then is born
An image, and ideas are likewise shown
When Poet tilts each ray of thought to form
Reflections set to sonnets’ rhythm own.
A river glistening in the sun does flow,
And so a sonnet moves and shimmers rhyme.
This stream of words with not so far to go
May ripple in the soul with glow sublime.
A diamond that is cut to form exact
By craftsman's hands, a brilliance will impart.
The sonneteer must chisel to extract
From rough a clarity which is his art.
The sonnet's beauty shines through history
In prisms of precision's poetry.
July 17, 2020
An Island home
A land that is not my own, but one I call my home,
born in the sound of ‘bow bells’, brought up in the squawk of seagulls,
my cockney slang, traded for a gaelic twang.
I stepped off the boat, a journey to a home away from home
greeted by a gust of wind, my new life was about to begin.
I fell in love with the foaming blue, glistening in the sun,
I fell in love with the grey cliffs, towering among emerald hills,
I fell in love with golden sand, spreading between my toes.
That night the moon shone brightly in the clear sky;
Inside the sea-beaten walls of Peel Castle,
the Moddey dhoo howled its sad tale.
The beauty of the hills still mists my eyes,
All around me, Manannan cloaks this magic isle.
Yoshino cherry tree, blossoms glistening in the sun
Most vibrant display of white-pink blossoms, with faint almond fragrance
Delightful moment, overcome by a massive sneeze attack
***
October 15, 2019
F F I series 29 sijo
Brian Strand, sponsor
Dressed in spike shoes
And summer whites
He steps onto the manicured fairway
Heart in the game and focused
Toting proudly a new bag
With left-handed custom
Putters drivers and irons
Glistening in the sun
Studying every curvature of the lawn
He carefully analyzes distances
Sandy bunkers and water hazards
Pulling out the perfect driver
Defending his championship title
His tournament life on the line
Practicing the swing in his mind
Like he’s done a million times
Stepping up to the tee
A prayer under breath
Positioning the ball just so
There it is the perfect swing
In control of every motion
Everyone follows the flight of the ball
Towards the flag fluttering in the breeze
Kerplunk right in the victory cup
A hole in one !!
Crowd roars and there it is
The jubilant victory dance
And a kiss for that lucky driver
Published in my 24-page photo/anthology ~RANDOM MUSINGS VOL.1~ 2020
AP: 2nd place 2025, 2nd place 2022
Submitted on June 6, 2019 for contest DRIVER OF VICTORY sponsored by JULIA WARD - RANKED 2ND
The Ambiance of Amber Light
I watch the morning glow behind you
inviting my eyes to pause in soft amber light
which frames your beauty
warming my heart with a smile
bursting the seeds of passion
allowing them to float endlessly...through my soul
pouring desire into the eyes of love
until they overflow and drip like dew from leaves
glistening in the sun spiraling towards Earth
leaving a wondrous glint in the eyes
could that this moment never end
nor escape into the unknown
Bathed is my essence in sweet dew of dawn
and wondrous is the glint that luster your eyes
as I radiate morning-glory grandeur
within your golden gaze of ardor
whose fervent seeds sow saffron dreams
wishing to possess and be possessed
I reach for you surrendering in softest amber light
luscious in the bloom of morn
captured in the nectar of each breath
taken in the heated heights of desire's depths
this moment an amaranth
thrilling this twinkling of time never to fade like a distant star
My gratitude to Susan and her beautiful mind and heart
for her help and kindness
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