Perhaps I had fallen asleep
Like Rip Van Winkle
And had pleasant dreams.
Who knows?
All I know I woke one day
In an earthly paradise.
As I exited my room, onto the balcony,
I saw an awesome landscape.
And for all that is good
I have no recollection of the name
Of the place I found myself in.
Cliffs surrounded the little village.
On top I could discern so many trees,
Larches, pines, and sturdy spruce.
Down in the hamlet, grew
Low growing oaks and walnut trees,
Flourishing around dispersed homes.
Down the cliff a river flowed down
And wended itself further down the hill.
The air was pure and birds sang.
My wife called me for breakfast.
I was hungry but loathe to leave
Such a magnificent beautiful scene.
Categories:
larches, water,
Form: Free verse
Legendary lovers lay low,
Lurking longingly like lorikeets,
Languishing beneath a clump of larches,
Lena flirting with Leander
Lunching on lotus flowers,
Lost bearings to all.
Liquored up into a dual lullaby
Listening to a lay from Lake Lethe,
Eyes lit in lambent love.
Luck lifted their luminousness.
Greek Lord livid at their love
Lashed lightning
And locked them both out
Love flickered into oblivion.
Placed 1
11 December 2020
Alliteration Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Eve Roper
Categories:
larches, lost love,
Form: Alliteration
L’Heure Bleue
Winter comes into early spring,
Patches of grey crusted old snow linger in the shadows under spruce sentinels.
Larches still bare-branches, only for support of their moss beards.
Scraggily aspen limbs silhouetted against the sky
Crossed by airplane signatures of travel above, to far away unknown places.
The wind now laid to rest as day winds down.
On the valley floor surrounded by ancient craggy uplifted mountains
Capped with snow and surrounded by green belts of spruce and fire.
Winding down, the golden eye of God
Moves silently, almost drawn by the horizon beyond the mountain ridges.
Welcoming, awaiting, dreaming, of l’heure bleue
As twilight gathers.
Layering of colors -peach, violet, magenta and purple.
Veils never distinct but melting, fusing into the coming darkening,
As light fades and chill comes.
The silence of lambs, the putting up of memories, the opalescent retreat within,
Gathering time and place as a cloak to keep warmth within.
Categories:
larches, nature,
Form: Free verse
Softest breezes carry delicious scents from a carpet of flowers weaved in the woods,
Bluebells bend as one, ripples in the oceans, they rise high then fall like the tide,
Watching this sea of flowers it is hard to accept the one you love will soon be gone,
A nightingale sees your sadness from his bough, his head cocked and sings a sad song.
It's hard to see flowered landscapes growing rich, your love smiles with sunken eyes,
Plum bloom falls in showers following the wind when your love is weak with suffering,
It's so very hard to smile and laugh, watching your love, as her skin hangs off bones,
It's so hard to look at the sea of bluebells knowing your love will soon be in heaven.
At times, good people ask me how she is, I can't answer because it's too hard to speak,
Watching larches, dressed in spring green next to wild cherries, it gives me no comfort,
We used to sit and watch pink wallflowers in our cottage garden it bought us happiness,
But now my strength has gone it is so hard to pretend when your heart is in little bits.
Categories:
larches, nature, sea, love, me,
Form: Prose Poetry