Lie back, lie back upon the wind,
let him hold you in his arms,
his silken cords, suspended dreams,
caress the soul and soothe the mind.
Lie back in the hammock of wind,
whisper your secrets into his ear
his clews attached to the crescent moon,
his bed embracing your heart's desire.
July 22, 2026
Through Aesthetica Poetry Contest
Nette Onclaud, Sponsor
The invisible waves of wind glide gently over me,
I sense a smooth stream stroke my shoulders,
letting me feel I’m on a swinging feather bed
like the cradle of childhood on which I lie.
As the tender zephyr softly sways me
I turn in a trance into a lilting buoyant leaf,
floating with the rhythm of the autumn breeze,
hanging on a hammock woven from wisp of wind.
Written: July 21, 2026 for a contest sponsored by: Nette Onclaud
*****************
Wide leafy cradle for the westward air,
The fruit of twilight ripens in stillness.
My soul tugs at a glittering green, bare.
Sighs cover the silky vines of dimness.
It whispers below the gilt repose of dusk's rage,
Brooks warble amid the slow breath of night.
The wind's hammock rattles the soul's cage,
Till hearts unburden what load shows in quiet.
Oh wind, I feel your soothing arms
enfolding me this summer day.
Touch me with caressing charms
while in your hammock, I will stay
to gently sway within your flow
that calms my spirit for a while,
for as a hammock, you bestow
a dreamy peace that brings a smile.
a seed I am, my silky hair loose without band.
a voyager on a hammock of wind-
drifting up and down with no compass to direct.
the sky warmly greets, nothing to obstruct.
I carry no heavy burden or luggage
if I plunge on land, I will manage,
to tether my roots deep down,
into soil to be reborn a thistledown.
A seed floats on a cushion of air,
a milkweed for a monarch to share
under a sun that fairly grinned
on that hammock of wind.
What fun to feel the breeze and sun
and watch the beauty that God has spun -
monarch wings, mirror image twinned
from my hammock in the wind.
when I was but a little girl we had a hammock
in our backyard between the trees
it was lovely to crawl in and let the wind caress me
back and forth
I would gather my doll close to my heart
and quietly spend hours swaying, dreaming
oh, so exquisite the wind- like a soft breath
a soft murmur in the trees
I loved the whooshing, hissing, and whispering
and the delicate sound of birds tweeting
I felt tranquility, serenity and calmness
and I could dream of beautiful places and things
as I lay floating in the wind
smelling the aroma of mothers flower garden
oh, the wind nudges me from my dream
with a pleasant poetic breeze
like a ripple on the water
and peace has wrapped me in her arms
.
.
. hands seek the branches eyes search the sky
. fingers grasp bark doubts asking why
. waiting for certainty my spirit wants to fly
. HAMMOCK OF WIND
. knows my measure rocks me gently
. no ends to tie nothing to let go
. the wily wind holds on to me
. I'm free, falling my chute holds
Between two mesquite limbs, the wind slings its cradle,
a slow sway rising from the sun-struck sand.
Warm desert air gathers like woven cloth,
lifting the body into a drifting, heat-soft lull.
Light flickers through thorn-shadow and dust-gold,
the world rocking in wide, breath-born stillness.
The Chihuahuan breeze loosens the grip of the day,
holding it in the wind’s quiet keeping across the desert’s spine.
A flock of birds are lifted up
Like kites to the sky,
Swirling, swaying, swooping round
Dipping and flowing
To the shape of the land
Congregating in a shadow like mass
Swinging
On the Hammock Of Wind
.
up this angle
down them
thar
and smile
hern
thuh moments
rich
for thuh poet
starez
When in the cradle
or a boat that rocks
life's lessons are learned
at the school of hard knocks
where these things are taught
you didn't oughta
1., stand up in a canoe
when it's in the water
as you may pitch
overboard
go down
and nearly drown
&/or,
2., stand up in a hammock
slung between the trees
as you could fall
all out
but merely skin your knees
unless you land upon your head
and then you may end up dead
If I had a hammock I would sleep outside
with the snakes, the rats, the spiders and all
I would love the night wind, as you sleep inside.
Not understanding the lure of nature’s nighttime call
MARTI THE MOUSE
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Marti, a mouse of discerning taste,
strung his hammock.
not of woven reeds,
nor silken thread pilfered
from a sleeping giant's beard,
but dandelion floss,
a sun-bleached tapestry
between two golden towers.
He wrestled the fluff,
a Herculean feat for one so small,
tied knots with nimble paws,
cursing only slightly
when a rogue seed tickled his nose.
Now, he swung,
a furry pendulum
in a field of green,
eyes half-closed,
whiskers twitching
at the buzzing of a bee.
I was better off in my hammock, at the heart of the Amazon,
That rue Saint Marc, or rue Jules Guesde, without flames
My only enemies were mosquitoes and pirhanas,
Not the bakers, the students or the vanitous drunk,
I was better thinking of couroupitas or guaranas, (1)
In my hammock at the heart of the great Amazon, sleeping
I had seen the banana sellers, simple people like me,
Not journalists, principals or pretentious factors,
I was better in my hammock at the heart of the Amazon,
Everything was silent as in a transparent cathedral
Two or three friends were sleeping by my side in the jungle,
We could dream of black caracaras, aracaris blues,(2)
(1) these are plants from the Amazon
(2) these are birds from the Amazon
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