Come to the field of forgiveness
when you are feeling low.
If negativity nags at you,
you need to let it all go.
Let go of your bitterness.
Bluebells will beckon to you.
These meadow empaths feel your pain.
Your soul they will renew.
Lie down near lovely flowered spaces.
Take a whiff of the fragrance of
lilac, lavender and larkspur.
Breathe the pure scent of love.
Lay down anger and hatred.
Hostility you must release
if you want to know in life
happiness and peace.
Kneel beside white lilies and
offer up a heartfelt prayer.
Touch the petals of roses red.
Feel the good Lord’s care.
Compassion toward those who hurt you
in your heart you will sow
when you visit the field of forgiveness
where the greatest miracles grow.
Torn skirt billowing behind you
like a parachute,
you fell,
fell,
for the telescoped eternity
of two seconds.
The pond turned its blind eye
to the sky,
and the shuddering gate
swung shut.
No one was talking.
Next day, the sun stirred
the larkspur into bloom again.
A rambler saw the flattened weeds,
suspected a fox,
and poked around for feathers.
They found your body later:
drowned in the darkness of the wood.
And raped,
or so the papers said.
‘A rendezvous with death’
was how one writer put it.
The police are looking for a man in black.
First published in Landfall, New Zealand
I could look at this painting
forever, oh Klimt was a talent
lake side with birch trees is where I would like to be
beside the dappled blue still water . . .
picking yellow buttercups
bluebells and purple larkspur growing wild, oh beautiful
oh dream
so sublime
Klimt takes me away
to a serene place in my mind
to a divine green dream of nature and tranquility
but the painting- I must leave behind
for I think the gallery would miss it . . .
though when days are rainy and I am forlorn, I always go
to view
the beauty painted
larks soar autumn's sky
as sun follows prairie rain . . .
wild larkspur sparkles
hemlock
a shock
foxglove
no love
orchid
morbid
wolf’s bane
insane
larkspur
bad blur
glory
gory
sumac
step back
laurel
quarrel
bloodroot
a brute
jimson
no fun
bella
donna
monkshood
not good
rhubarb
grim garb
flower
power
Taking my first summer stroll in the meadow,
I marveled at the new growth and flowers
The sun was shining full blast, not a single shadow
My mind rummaged through its ivory towers.
Wild carrot and cosmos were in full bloom
Along with larkspur and bright columbine,
Tempting me to pick for my living room
But I demurred, not to disturb the natural
Habitat for the critters, pollinators for the bees
Seeing in them something awesomely spiritual,
I headed for the woodland line of trees.
Surprisingly, someone has set up a salt lick
I wonder, this being a wildlife sanctuary
Surely no hunting, it hit me like a brick,
I thought it so entirely unnecessary.
Surely not here...a deer hunter's nasty trick.
An afternoon so filled with joy and promise
Suddenly was overshadowed with awful thoughts,
I quicky turned and headed toward the house,
My stomach churning, gut tied up in knots.
I shall complain of this infraction to authorities,
Next thing I know, they'll be chopping down trees.
Written June 3, 2022
[Last year partial fencing was a scare;
Now hunting? They wouldn't dare!]
Soon spring wildflowers will appear
Red Larkspur in the meadow near,
And sweet honeysuckle blooming
With birch twigs ready for brooming
All to the stroller bring good cheer.
Strolling through the meadow I find
A peace enhanced with beauty rare,
The perfect place to say a prayer*
Where one may come to clear the mind,
And leave one’s worries far behind.
written March 1, 2022
(prayer is a one-syllable word
where I come from)
The meadow is greening, a little each day
Buds are beginning to swell with anticipation,
Small, furry creatures are appearing to play
The meadow is greening, a little each day.
Soon the larkspur will appear in full array,
As I stroll through with fond admiration
The meadow is greening, a little each day,
Buds are beginning to swell with anticipation.
As I stroll through with fond admiration
The meadow is greening, a little each day
Soon the larkspur will appear in full array,
Small, furry creatures are appearing to play
Buds are beginning to swell with anticipation
I cannot conceive of a more lovely location.
written February 22, 2022
[a Trionet, fusion of the repeated lines
of a triolet with the 14-lines of a sonnet,
a poetry form I invented.]
As dawn undressed the night,
putting the purples of sorrow to flight.
It started to paint an horizon new,
in burnished golds of every hue,
that streaked the heavens and edged each cloud
with fire that danced and billowed proud.
Heralding a bright new day
that blew the sullen nights cobwebs away
and lasered light into Earths dark corners,
to gladden the hearts of cynics and mourners.
And Oxeye daisies raised their heads,
whilst sweet campion and larkspur stirred in their beds
and drank the dew the night had bestowed,
as field and meadow softly glowed
in that tranquil, thankful morning light,
that broke each day and banished the night.
O Ruby; you are my resuming red
Red, the heart of the gemstone
Symbol of love and passion
Comes to the path of romance
Takes the soul gratefully at a glance
Fountain of July torrential rain
Within rhythmic welcome sane
Dearly drenching nibbling grass
Where we're for the rabbit nurse
Rain kisses the dog, the barbed wire fence,
The floodlights of night, where camera lens
Sieges your dancing through neon lights
And silhouette of heart phantom behind
No sun and no moon there are
Days fairness and nights darkness desire
Unstoppable life force in dripping
From your scented body of evergreen
Maiden tulips and lotus on your soaked cloths
Cheerfully greet wild reunion with the inner smooth
Bluish-purple the larkspur far alone
The water lily on the brimfull pond
Bonding a grove of amorous eyes
With the red wine and craving ties
Warm and burning warm everywhere
Deaths and deceptive virus also snare
Soggy mind in the beat of window
Hearing the weep of Leo born widow
10.07.2020 Chattogram
Dream
In the realm of realistic eyes or surreal
And there are you, prevailing all my sense
My girl, the charismatic beauty of world
On the blooming bud of the Eden garden
Flying with the butterfly's wings
Through the aromatic hydrocarbons of scent
Exotic thy smiles with white diamond teeth
Luscious lips on the breeze kissing
O no hypnotic mango juice there is to melt
But my heart to feel you like the furnace flame
Through the July raindrops
With the bluish-purple larkspur...
Dream
Still I dream you
Like the Venus rising from the white foam of earthly water
O my girl, to your coming the dream is wanderer
09.07.2020 Chattogram
I have an ardent attachment with July,
Coz me and my partner share our born days
This month ~for love on each other we rely.
Monsoon seems to be high, hoping to satisfy
Nature showers whole heartedly, as it sprays
I have an ardent attachment with july
"July" named by the Roman Senate, to imply
The birth of Julius Caesar, for giving honour it says
This month ~for love on each other we rely
Larkspur and water Lily are in largest supply,
Blossoms absolute bond of love, prevents frays
I have an ardent attachment with july
Meditating in dark, about him who is in Dubai,
Refusing to message & enquire regarding holidays
This month~for love on each other we rely
Sitting in two different countries, we ally
Thinking of past memoirs always
I have an ardent attachment with july.
This month~for love on each other we rely.
Villanelle form with rhyme scheme:
A1 b A2 / a b A1 / a b A2 / a b A1 / a b A2 / a b A1 A2.
Written on 27-6-2020.
Note1:Month of the year that I like most poetry Contest.(N/A)
Judged on 18-7-2020
Note2:STRAND COMPLETELY NEW (24) ,any form,
any theme Poetry Contest(N/A)
Judged on 19-8-2020
The green song of Spring. A coloring book - the pages fluttering.
Pastel azaleas blooming. Violet hyacinths hug a vertical space.
Lemony tulips with lavish leaves. Iris cycloglossa ~ lilac, yellow, blue.
A felicitous field of larkspur. Petrichor and dewdrop bliss. Sunkisst!
4/3/2020
Why did men long ago sing to the skies
When they burned hot with scorching honeyed flame
When the graphite waters began to rise
Why did their hope remain ever the same?
Did they inspire sweet, naïve Juliet
Who begged sharp, bleeding dawn to never shine?
Are they the larkspur wish for dead moonset
That Romeo made for his lover fine?
For love, they so desperately hope, alters
The fingers, bladed hands, of cruel time
Like mortal words could change the universe—
But to challenge stars, is that not a crime?
For if my lips bleed when you I speak of
How can worlds be changed by mere poppy love?
Life-giving blue lake filled almost to rim
Brings beauty and delight to ones full of dreams
Gives plentiful to migrated Canadian geese
Offers cozy homes to duck families
Meditating Cranes stand by banks
Male Gobblers dance charmingly ruffling their fans
Red-tailed Hawks, Kestrels and Eagles circle over high
Searching for tasty meal using exceptional eye
Clever Blue Jays show presence by daring loud quacks
Chirping Robins feed on insects in small cracks
Scurrying squirrels enjoy hidden nut feasts
Draw packs of howling coyotes
Grassy greens become playground for scampering rabbits
Nourish Black-tail Deer with scrumptious treats
Ornate blooming fields of wild lupines, larkspur and poppies
Heighten magnificence of surroundings
Bursting woodlands of Digger pines and varieties of Oaks
Provide blackbirds, quails, towhees and wrens continual homes
Filled with moderate hills and dirt trails
I’m in awe of the splendor of the landscape
Glorious sunsets heighten beauty of the lake
Displaying shades of yellow, orange and fiery red
Astonished by generous affluence from dear Mother Earth
I bow to her feeling gratified and loved
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