Long Blue air Poems
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the raspy whisper
finally
gets my full attention -
wistfully I smile
..for its persistence reminds me of you..
the crisp red leaf
scuttles scrapingly
across the gray pavement
to and fro
like a dancing crab
moving with the whims of the winds
chasing me
as it seemed like I had once chased my dreams;
blown in directions left up to chance
..until I met you..
..is it now, as it was then
Destiny?
for in this instant, my sense of direction
seems predestined..
a smoky scent
spices the chilled blue air
reminding me of our cozy nights
curled with the fire
..entranced
as we were
with our warmth
and our flame..
could it be
love signals from the hearth
calling me home..?
..my soul
feels akin to the red leaf,
the wafting smoke
and I am ready to follow..
Would the cold atmosphere be so cruel
as to play capricious tricks upon my eyes... or
..is that really
YOU
standing there..?
Oh!
my beloved,
how my broken spirit
has suffered
in my pining desire to be with you -
I run to you!
years of yearning prayers answered
fingertips straining - stretching further
reaching out to touch you,
the whole of my being aching
to hold you and enfold you
..ah, I feel your heat
so very close to me..
Alas!
I fall to my knees,
my arms empty
but for the loss I carry..
your warm breath
on the nape of my neck
only my hot want
brewed with a cool wisp of the breeze
..Oh, God! Please!
just let it be
let me go..!
my forsaken flame less than a dying ember;
I but ashes in my grief
withered
in my autumn season
without you
still...
I’m slow to realize...
that your fading glow just the sun slanting low
blurring wicked whimsy with my wild sorrow
in the burning of these bitter tears.
Susan Ashley
December 2, 2018
~ First Place ~
Contest: NA the day away
Sponsor: Lu Loo
*N/A’d: Best Free Verse 2019 Poetry Contest*
~ Honorable Mention ~
Contest: Your Choice (2) Any Theme, Form
Sponsor: Brian Strand
~ Poem Of The Day ~
December 4, 2018
R a i n ~ a misted mirror
coated in petrichor pain ~
fused with memories
pirouetting through the
veiled salt of the earth,
caressing the Pina Colada dreams
adrift in the icy-blue air,
amidst clouds soaked
in prismatic hues ~
arching like opalescent canopies,
to hide the despair I’ve draped
in dragonfly hues that no one knows
but the moon and his
merciful silver, forever stroking
the silken surface of s i l e n c e ~
homed within my
heart that aches…
And along with the thunder ~
came confetti of scars,
a piercing flash of metallic truth
revealing midnight rays
of how I’ve long been the storm ~
a murky sky of cracked constellations,
a rush of roaring torrents,
driving my thoughts to the honed
borderline of tremors and torture ~
teetering on forsaken fragility.
O dahlia dawn ~
I am the splitting tempest,
the spectral outline of
electrified lightning.
I taste the bittersweet flavors
of opaline stars ~
trembling in angst,
as fleeting sparks of the buried past,
too, feel the hurt beneath
the pansies of paradise,
where angels unfurl their
wings, sprinkling tears of hope
upon the battlefield of
shattered dreams,
lamenting the endless war
that burns in the olive-green
orchard of the grief-struck mind,
where fairy-lights
flicker neon hints of
prejudice through broken twigs ~
a pitiful perception,
amplifying the echoing embers
floating above puddles
of weathered lilies,
stained with dust and powder,
weaving a requiem for the
f a l l e n jewels,
walking through the trails
of bruises and tilted tulips,
bleeding poetry ~
beautified with
polychromatic phrases
and falcon ink that cuts
through paper promises,
leaving nothing but a restless reverie,
breathing in the quivering
warmth of quietude…
This is perhaps the most powerful day,
early spring giving way to the main course,
the trees hastily bursting their buds,
blooming in reds, oranges and yellows -
the reflection of the opposite season,
now with the addition of white,
white as the clouds above,
which can't bring themselves to look like winter clouds anymore -
they lie in the blue air
watching the nymphs and pixies flit through the flowering trees,
they ride high above lawn and pasture;
clouds are the smiling souls of sheep,
sheep from far off and long ago,
remembering when they were lambs at play,
now looking down upon the new fields,
fields that bear witness to the raging torrent of unleashed energy -
this is Mother Nature going all in,
both her feet upon the accelerator of change,
lighting the afterburners with one hand while making a fist with the other,
shaking it at Old Man Winter,
just daring him to give it one more try before October,
that next October when the grass will be tired,
when the tone of light and the shade of sound slow down,
when the clouds will remember how to look like they're in cold air.
For now, the grass shines into your mind -
that's what tells you it's that powerful day of spring,
that special green color,
deeper, fuller, richer, vibrant and electrifying,
it races to your eye and fills you.
Mother Nature twirls in the upsurge of growth -
she can hear it, and you can see it and smell it -
and if you get close enough you can touch it,
blade of grass, leaf of clover,
and you're there with all the wee beasties of the yard and garden,
feeling what spring really is -
all life turning its face to the sun and jumping up and down.
Fall is getting prompt for its chilly main part.
Spread each leaf until the forest floor is strewn.
Joined by bright leaves waving to the summer's past.
Differing old layouts, and not a trice too soon!
Spread each leaf until the forest floor is strewn.
And the heron shriek out above the clear blue air
Differing old layouts, and not a trice too soon!
While the white clouds emerge to shout "beware!"
And the heron shriek out above the clear blue air
The swollen creek has no time to fade away.
While the white clouds emerge to shout "beware!"
The Fall charm waits for our parent's offer lay.
The swollen creek has no time to fade away.
A woodpecker beats on a tree searching food.
The Fall charm waits for our parent's offer lay.
Mixed together, they make for a timing, good.
A woodpecker beats on a tree searching food.
A parade of old thoughts walks within new sense.
Mixed together, they make for a timing, good.
And nothing is lost when the mood is intense!
A woodpecker beats on a tree searching food.
A parade of old thoughts walks within new sense.
Mixed together, they make for a timing, good.
And nothing is lost when the mood is intense!
A parade of old thoughts walks within new sense.
My heart is racing as I latch on to beat.
And nothing is lost when the mood is intense!
The kernel of Autumn's singing is so sweet.
My heart is racing as I latch on to beat.
Joined by bright leaves waving to the summer's past.
The kernel of Autumn's singing is so sweet.
Fall is getting prompt for its chilly main part.
Written: September 02, 2022
Autumn Pantoum Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Caren Krutsinger
The highlight of my Alaskan vacation was a singular
unexpected breach of a humpback whale.
— by Poet
MY DREAM VACATION - ALASKAN WHALE TOUR
What’s a routine blubberflip, is a marvel to humans -
a breathtaking splash of epic proportions, a whirlwind
propensity to pail - empty salt-sea into the sun-blue air.
The striated humpback, in blubberbreach, sates
in eye appeal, strums in rhythmic entrainment, and
a solid gold breath erupts through the human blowhole.
Mood lighting of the sea and sky, the heavens riding
the wave of creation’s emotion - God’s largesse smiling.
Gratitude of the cruisers from this unexpected explosion
through the give way sea, the crop yielding a hundredfold.
The humpback’s beauty is in his creativity of timing, sublime
in oceanic movement, his fin-finish finer than a diver’s.
Furthermore, the cleansing of his blubberhide - ridding
himself of lice and barnacles — morass that when it lingers
annoys but triggers the acceleration to release his form
to exaltation - he swims the blessed air for a few seconds,
with flipper wings, angel kisses and applause. Neither
proud nor humble, as he pressures through the deep.
What’s a routine of man - to exercise his sea legs,
to gorge on the monsters of the sea, to breathe in
all that life can be — tremulous, terrifying, out of sight.*
3/8/2022
Sponsor: L. Milton Hankins
*out of sight - extremely good, excellent
A fresh aroma of the winter roses bore upon
The break of the day light, the first ray hold upon
By the droplets beaded over the floral leaf
Mulled over by the sight so mimetic
The life glazed over the mist filled by the charismatic.
An ecstatic jubilation bided by the Christmas carol
The gala affair of the sunset, the last ray hold upon
By the beloved savored over the time cajole
Relived over by the chorus so balmy
The rendezvous solemnization blended by the carmine patty.
A warm welcome of the edging resolutions blessed upon
The solemnity of Mary, the first greet hold upon
By the wishes ordained over the coming élan
Pleased over by the time so worth
The time of the year met with the springtime growth.
Anew Sun brought upon the garden, bore upon
The green of the array, the first ray hold upon
By the moving moraine over the frost melted -
Drifted over by the season so pledged
The aroma suspired over the blue air, warmth blended.
Pooled by affections over the day choired by love, relived upon
Betrothals belonged forever, the first kiss hold upon
By the destiny manana over the time so limn -
Touched by the amity so dear
The warmth over the ardor met with sweetness so fair.
They held back for the bathe in the colour so motleyed, poured upon
The meme prevailed over decades across the east, the last ray hold upon
By the field blazed over the harvests so sear
Turned over by the air so brut
The time of the year met with the season so hot.
Note: Continued from Fragrance - II
She was beautiful,ever so graceful, sitting in the Zen garden,
In the quietude evening of summer,painting a mural,
Art is her muse,as she herself looks like art,a precious and priceless one,
Her eyes shine like gems,so pure,so white,but blind,so sad,
Talented she is in art, although blind,
Fairest skin like porcelain, beautifully clear,almost translucent,almost,
Flower fields of blue roses I reside in,
And blue air I exhale,
Home is what I see when I gaze upon her countenance,
Oh her countenance home to Rosy cheeks and sparkling ruby lips,
I find myself lost within the world of her orbs,
Xue fang,her name,her name,fragrant snow,
Red she wore,with golden flowers and coy fish detailing,
It curved her beauty so effortlessly,
Strings of lush hair cascading down her young spine,
A hairpin,a gift from her ancestors in place,
Her talent she used so elegantly,she blesses the paper so delicately,
What she don't know is she painted her figure right in my heart,like a stamp of an emperor's seal,
There she resides in,known but unknown,
Xue fang,oh fragrant snow,
You are my fantasy land,
A dream,a dream I want not woke,you are,
You are my love,
You are my muse,so priceless you are,
Gazing at you,my fragrant snow,
Feels like a thousand years of bliss.
Somewhere in a spring time of the day
in a velvet shadow of memories
I played music to the guitar of the wind.
You were the song that I am singing
You were the words that I have written
In every note, in every rhythm.
Somewhere long ago,
There is a portrait of memories
That I have seen in all shades of green.
Like verdant fields flourish my day.
Like a blue air, comes my way
Was I used to laugh, until I cried?
Somewhere back in time
There is a portrait of memories
That I have seen in mirror water.
As a crystal clear glistened in my eyes,
like a water from the spring,
that flows inside my being.
Somewhere in a quiet of my remembrance
There is a portrait of memories
That I have seen before the morning dawn.
The early morning smile, I cheerfully recall.
Wonderful moments, I had to cherish
A portrait of memories that I sketched on a stone
And here was I, somewhere along the way
As I glide over the boat of our memories’
Sailing our yesterday that we have left behind,
And so it goes as a breeze blew from the past.
The portrait of memories that I kept deep inside
The memories that painted here in my heart.
To avoid the pale blue pain hue
I do not visit the river shore any more
If I do sometimes by chance
One by one
Our spent moments
Both closed and open
Come in a long bluish queue
And in the snow of thought grow deep blue sores
Hospital odour
shreds of blue in the air
Prayers seem hollow
Blues inexorably follow
The river-shore blue beauty
Is elegiac and unbearable for me
Do you remember
The blue river shore
Would madden us more and more
The blue air from your hair
That we ecstatically shared
While dissolving our lips in the mutual cups
In the veins
In the blue lanes and bye lanes of our laugh
Would gallop the horses
Now they are dews on forceps
Of the frightening time
In tattered rhymes
All chimes robbed of
As one day all on a sudden you fell
The current went pell-mell in the river
Leaving me sobbing
In those blue myriad cells
Very pale by your sudden departure
Into the ethereal air
Never to return
Time sits in urn
When I come here
The moment broken seemed irreparable
The embracing blue unbearable
____________________________________
2/11/2016
Fairy kings, dryads
in the labyrinths of nightfall
fill children’s heads with dread.
They walk hushed, their pockets full of bread
Bewitched these children bring
elusive, unthinkable thoughts,
of wings that flitter in aqua tints,
perch a silver instant on nodding fronds
tumble into violet, dew- drop flowers.
Spirits of the blue air,
fragments of a baby’s first laugh
travel to us over centuries of sky
in a boat of glass
On rainbow wings that flutter
among flowered garlands,
sparkle in waterfalls,
shimmer in twisted vedigris woods.
haunting moonlit narratives. Awaken
imagination in ethereal meadow-pinks
Arise from lakes on a pure white horse.
Hide their gold in blossoms of gorse
Reign over deep earth, intervolve,
spells from midnight 'til the cock’s first crow.
Glorious gladness and frivolity.
In the shadowed hours of indigo,
dance in a secret ring.
Spin star shine into fairy dust and sing
nature’s magic.