They fall from grace to grass,
aged, scorched and dehydrated,
fluttering away further
the vanity of previous
greenness and elevated times,
reminding us of the fragility
of life,
the futility of striving to hang on
when time is up.
Maple and Oak must to Fall obey.
Shedding their leaves to colder winds, they die.
The greenness of a Pine endures to stay,
tall, living branches pointed to the sky.
Gusty storms will test in every way.
But the mighty Pine’s defense none can defy.
9/11/2024
Memory of Muriel
When the big wave crashed ashore
on the rocky side of the bay, seven white stallions, silky manes flying, galloped ashore to seek freedom in the green winter valley.
The old man's sons helped their father to swim
and he was glad
Coming home, he called his wife Muriel and told her he had been swimming with his son.
The sons were worried their mother had been dead for many years
In the valley of greenness, the stallions see
the grass turned pale
longed for the freedom of the open sea.
When a summer storm came, the stallions galloped back to the shore to join mighty swells
on the back of a horse, an old man rode
finally, he was going to meet his wife Muriel.
Fervent redbirds began to croon,
As onyx shadows danced in tune,
Idle afternoon of peacock plumes,
amid greenness and floral fumes.
Saffron sunshine forever resumes,
with memories of pale, pink moon.
Gardener's pride, flowers maroon,
seeking the usual golden fortune,
under skies of lost purple balloon,
and mystery clouds, leaving soon.
Wistful, aging Saturday afternoon!
"Spring drew on...and a greenness grew over those brown beds, which, freshening daily, suggested the thought that Hope traversed them at night, and left each morning brighter traces of her steps." —Charlotte Brontë
Spring heeds His voice,
Prepared to rejoice…
Spring showers wash away each fear,
Singing light across the new year…
Spring invites souls to the blessing,
As sun sings hope so impressing…
Spring whispers of His amazing,
Silencing the past, always praising…
Spring knows the time has come,
The dark of winter will succumb…
Spring risks the disgrace, the shame,
As the wind begins to play its game…
Spring, mostly alive with pleasure,
Restores the spirit’s joy, a treasure…
Spring erases all the tired,
Bringing new, it is inspired…
Spring’s smile, it is assured,
Brings peace that has endured…
Spring listens to His command,
Spreading glory, so great and grand…
Spring is God’s grace poured out,
On the heart who refuses to doubt!
Most nights I stay awake,
Just the mere thought of you has the ability to turn my legs to jelly...
And my heart to break.
My stomach gets butterflies,
That's a feeling I would always take.
I wonder what you would say if I asked you out on a date,
Would you be as happy as I am when I think of you?
Will you let me down as if there's nothing to lose?
Out of all the people who've confessed their love to me,
I only want you.
I hope whoever you end up with looks into your eyes
And I hope they see the greenness in them
Like the algae in my lake I've known since childhood.
I hope they look at your face as if it were sculpted by the Gods,
I hope they accept you for who you are, and not who they want you to be.
I see your potential, so please...
Come with me.
Fix this hole in my heart that only you could fix,
Your love as big as the ocean, but small enough to fit in my fist.
I love you, enough to want to love me too.
Memory of Muriel
When the big wave crashed ashore on the rocky side of the bay
seven white stallions, silky manes flying galloped ashore to seek
freedom in the green winter valley.
The old man's sons helped their father to swim and he was glad
Coming back home he called his wife Muriel, told her he had been swimming with his son.
The sons were worried, their mother had been dead for many years
In the valley of greenness, the stallions see the grass turn pale
longed for the freedom of the open sea.
When a summer storm came, the stallions galloped back to the shore
to join a mighty swell, on the back of a horse an old man rode finally, he was going to meet his wife Muriel.
If I had not been born,
Poetry would have been born
This world has been awake for a long time
Not I’m; only in the constant torrent
Poetry has given this world the greenness
Man and woman, we are in love
Poetry comes and makes a match between us
Then this world has been alive for plentiful years
I’m human that’s why I can't give you anything
Poetry can give what you want that’s why
Poetry is divine power
In resurrection I want to be your reciting poetry
So that I can be your offerings in worship saintly
©Mahtab Bangalee
Chattogram
February 05, 2023
Dark trees, ferns, sweet with seasons showers pace.
Winking sunlight through pines greenness embrace.
Dew pearls embroidered flowers autumn's grace,
Becoming earths choral flute twirl and lace.
Onlookers, sunny laughter fairies face,
Glean upon the blooms rich entrancing place.
Silliness of Fauns magic dance through space.
Forest snide imps while day lasts, quick retrace.
Nesting birds departing and upward chase.
11/8/2022
a stirring
before words
early light
through window
greenness
first without
form
stillness
of a branch
the moment
the tree and I
are one
Non Dual Awareness Poetry Contest
July 28, 2022
??EVERGREEN??
Green Panther, does wearing green
Or being homegrown and living as indigene
equals patriotism and makes you ever green?
Does staying or returning to your home country
signifies patriotism and make you unchary?
Your choice annihilate your reality as a being.
Like a garden, no black nor blue is ever seen.
Living matutinal lifestyle, I resurge to green thoughts
to exeunt in green array, occupying my daily slot.
Don't change but embrace the greenness of nature;
Your legacy remains irrespective of life's puncture,
only if you decide your destiny with your own signature.
VickManuelPoetry {VMP}
Form: Rondeau Prime (12 lines).
Copyright©July 14th, 2022.
Juicy, plump rings of summer.
Spinning round and round -
While bedecked with kernels of dawn.
What luck I have found!
Unique in your venture-
Riding with the whirls of sweetness.
Please take me with you!
As we radiate in our greenness.
spring bows to summer
spring bows to summer
long nights give way to daylight ~
footprints on the sand
cold days nod to warmth
days comes early then leave late ~
shooting star pizzazz
frost curtseys to dew
empty fields burst with blossoms ~
bird songs fill the dawn
tree buds smile with leaves
barren limbs expand with life ~
forest greenness thrives
moonlight swaddles night
moon shadows dance in rondeaus ~
summer bows to spring
6-8-22
their greenness is different than anyone else's
They have a sway that reminds me of a pliable back
I watch them waving and I smile
"From green, tender buds to full burnished art-
the seasons take pause amid weathered leaves."
_by Poet
To weathered leaves of fall, the seasons turned.
Once buds unfurled in springtime April rain-
to verdant greenness; now red-orange burned-
dried, curled, and crumpled- ending summer reign.
No longer green, but brilliant hues again
drape seasoned shawls of golden browns and rust
that soon crisp autumn winds, to ground, will thrust
and carpet well the faded grass below;
the last hurrah- emblaze the earthen crust-
then sink, full-weathered, neath the winter snow.
November 24, 2021
Premiere Strand Contest No. 1096
Sponsor: Brian Strand
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