A LEAFY ALLEGORICAL MESSAGE
What a great season!
Leaves shall soon be leaving me,
Naked and challenged:-
But I will not be ashamed:
Canvassing life's endurance:-
Our allegory,
Teaches profound barked lessons
Of life's survival:
Despite cold tribulations,
Releaving warm leaves will come:-
Autumn, a-drowse
Ag'ed, drag them.
As deaf to a leafy music's
Bright shimmerings
As blinded are, further above
To whose throne rings.
Behind its sound
What do I see?
Out each branch hung, with timbrelled hand
A worshipper.
Nature, plainly more conscious of
Its own Maker!
Unstrolled, but of a heart
Spills, slow and dismal.
Unswept, but of a hand
Time's, whose lone recall.
Long years since, what shimmers
For evening's misted
Haunting appeal; far-lamped.
Ghost-paired, down-led!
Cicadas Hiku 38
c a d a
i s
b u z z i n g c
•------
•------
on v e r d a n t l t r e e s~
e a f y / \
/ \
n ~a ~t ~u ~re `s s -w -e e –e - t s ~u ~m ~m ~e ~r s –o –n –g –s.
leafy sea dragon so fragile and dainty
floating among the lifeless seaweed
unseen by most, maybe all the rest
Your costume a natural camouflage gown
I will keep your secret ensuring your safety
We sleep on each other,
lick on each other,
run around and nip on each other,
we are wholly 'each other,'
personalities
hid
in the ruff and fur around our necks
and the snaggle of our teeth.
We wag in unison
heart-timers synchronized.
When out in the big smell
we seek every scent
that sprout's
from the muddy baths and the great
wafting sky-waves that call to our blood
to come join,
come lope and snuffle.
The trails of other's drives us crazy,
we roll in bundles of ecstasy,
squat, squirt and snap at the thick odiferous airs
then inhale the news from every rump
we greet.
Under our skittering paws
leaf and grass, spatter and scatter
as we charge into each other.
What are these leaves of grass?
Each one could be a page
in poem of sniff and scratch.
The wind threads through our snouts
and we shake our heads
until our brains rattle in wonder.
Old Walt Whitman forgets to mention us,
but deep within his far pacing musings
we are there like an itch.
When he pauses his pen to nap and dream
our breathy huff huffiness
tickles his toes.
A fleet
of clover feet.
The puddle grunts.
Crouched atop
leafy beds,
groovy eyes
dance.
Croaks and caws,
a symphony.
A quartet
in the woods.
A bisque sun on the windowsill, the early light smells of marigolds.
Beyond, the garden is as usual, a haven for cracked clay pots,
after windy nights there are yet more broken terracotta options.
Breakfast and the Broadwood table is salted and buttery.
Blue and white dishes, like fledglings, wait to be fed.
I sense soccer moms hurrying their ducklings along.
Egg sandwiches will spontaneously appear on the hour.
Nearby, bushy shrubs sup on their own green tealeaves.
I like it here, where groundhogs whistle in the cabbage patch.
Spreading blueberry jam, wondering what kind of man I am,
shrugging the thought away.
I'm sitting in a pile of leaves
waiting for the mad to comb my hair.
My eyebrows are dead butterflies.
The wind comes with sips of water.
My wife has gone
to buy a rich, heavy, fruit cake,
she will bring it home
on a pick-up truck.
I'm just okay here,
soon I will have to move though,
this day needs me to stitch it together
with a Chinese leaf blower.
Is spirit of the leafy woods a he or a she?
Does it matter? Asked the sage mushroom.
Just curious, said the neonate elf.
Why?
I do not know.
The sage mushroom smiled at the neonate elf.
Shes and hes are more alike than different, right?
Both hes and shes have feelings.
Both hes and shes have thoughtfulness.
Both hes and shes help out the woods.
That is true, replied the neonate.
I have already borne many fruits in my life
pruned, today I don't even have leaves
by Wayne Wysocki
I'm eating kale to slim my waist
Lord knows it's not because of taste
It took some while to appreciate
The leafy green I love to hate
The fibrous queen of super foods
Can satisfy nutrition prudes,
And comes in leafy shapes galore:
Curly, Tuscan, dinosaur
For variation I can gnaw
This crucifer sautéed or raw,
Just as is, or baked as chips,
A smoothie blend to please my lips
But having said all that, I'll add
Too much of anything is bad,
And I've been craving, as of late,
A change of greens to grace my plate
I now peruse the produce aisle
To find the foods that make me smile
It's time to choose my next big thing
Like watercress or collards green
I'll greet my new nutrition trend
And say goodbye to you, old friend
Kale, we've had a lovely run,
But now my time with you is done.
eagles perch on leafy tree limb
overlooking territory below
guardians of the asphalt jungle and dumpster
gently touching hands
strolling barefoot by a stream
a timeless romance
And the grass won't pay no mind.
Written and performed by Neil Diamond.
9 / 2 / 2019.
A Leafy Land
To the North and East, green sloped Downs above
The Weald* of Kent. Beneath, the Pilgrim’s Way
Where Monk, traveller and Penitent walked
And Chaucer wrote of the Canturbury Tales.
A land of ancient paths; Chestnut and Oak,
Where Kings and Princes held castle towers.
Oast Houses; beacons to ancient crafts,
Red brick, half timbered dwellings, pan tiled roofs.**
Meadows of buttercup and columbine.
A historic land of hops and fruit.
A leafy land where Jute and Saxon came.
To the South, the bleak and lonely Marshes,
A land of sheep and one time smuggler’s haunts.
Then to the West, high chalk Downs and Sussex.
Beyond, the sea surging on shingled shores
Where the Saxon yielded to Norman Sword.
* Weald – Saxon – A forested or uncultivated tract of land. Probably related to ‘wild’.
**Pan tiles - A type of pan baked clay tile used in the Eastern counties of Scotland and England, rarely in other parts of the Country. First imported from Holland in the early 17th Century.
06/11/17
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