Long Cranes Poems
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He prowl very still across
the calm merky waters
I can see him and he can
see me with his big yellow
eyes his pupils are lime
green slowly he crawls not
even shooing the cranes
from off his back he crawls
past the woodstorck perching
on one leg the tall Cypress
trees seems to sway as the
moisture dampens the earth
it's July already Christmas
trees are ready to be cut and
shipped off in time for the
Christmas season I love this
time of year although the heat
covers the swamp not a breeze
in sight the female alligators
panted all night laying eggs
upon the drift wood herons
flying high as egrets feast
on snakes the sun peeks in
around noon as the alligators
approached the grass sun
bathing watching the golfers
tee off sipping brandy in all
this heat commotion beckons
someone fishing just lost a limb
my mind wanders the nature
of this prehistoric giant unseen
until prey invade his space again
chomp bones breaking cracking
like branches the lake swells wails
screeching lots of feathers the
deer rush through the forest just
keep moving continue on stop your
squawking and keep on walking
Written by Mrs Yolanda Joy Nicholsen
Listen
Bubbles pop quietly
around your head
the soothing smell of
lavender filling your
nostrils to overflowing.
Look
Shooting stars, cloudless
sky, graceful geese, no,
those are cranes, flying out
of the marsh to the farmers
field for dinner.
Feel
the breeze through the grass
softly moving the reeds
quietly talking to the trees,
leaves kiss your legs as
they move on by.
Smell
the violets in bloom,
the maple trees producing syrup,
the crick running over
rocks, pushing stinky
moss downstream.
Taste
grasses and grains
nuts and berries, all
growing in the woods and
pastures, waiting to
be eaten for dinner.
When I appear there Nature seems to
Dance and dance and dance,
When I disappear she is prone to
Weep and weep and weep.
Withdraws all clouds from sky to set a
Splendid scenery,
So that me rising from the river
Afresh may there espy.
Whether it sun or shower or snow or
Storm, when I arise
To set my arms, the setting Sun
Certainly will be there.
Women who go to the river for bathing
Choose my choicy time,
So that there they may bathe in warm and
Yellow sunshine time.
Now here a plant blossoms and blooms and
Soon another there,
Here Spring is reappearing, with her
Bring all beauties back.
Nature is dancing with her rhythmic
Steps and divine smile,
Why can't I row a boat here swaying
To and fro on waves?
The valleys wear their flowery carpets,
And the mountains are
Once again clad in colours, such this
Sylvan scene is set.
White cranes are there always on serene
Haunted islets sit,
Or stand by whiter cows there grazing
O'er the lushy green.
Suppose some Beauty glance and dance in
This wild atmosphere,
Then surely that's a dance to see, when
Mother Nature dance.
So Nature takes the pen out of my
Hands and writes for me,
May that there me, the clouds and cranes and
Cows and waves witness.
On cloudy days, practically there will be no sun to see. But it was my insistence that when I rise up after bathing in the river and look up to the sky, the sun should be there in the western horizon for me to worship. If it is a heavy raining day, I will select the time to go to the river according to when the rain will have a possibility of abating. Even on the heaviest raining days in the east, nature is benevolent enough to uncover sun at least for a few seconds. I will select this time to rise up from the river with my eyes closed and fervently wishing for father sun to be there when I open my eyes. With closed eyes when we look westward, standing river fresh, I don't know what makes it happen but the sun will always be there though sometimes be for only a few seconds. It is like this life-giver listens to fervent wishes of his off-springs and grants them.
A Poem By P.S.Remesh Chandran. Editor, Sahyadri Books & Bloom Books. Trivandrum.
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Are you chameleons, dearest leaves?
Stealing colors of amber, like thieves;
Hiding pure gold dusts within, sometimes,
Putting on crimson shown like sun-shines...!
Birds, dear, from for lands! Don't go away!
You're nature's pleasure; kindly do stay!
Nightingales, cuckoos, swifts, and cranes,
Tell us, time-to-time, your inner pains...!
Blackberries, rose-hips and crab apples,
Laced with vivacious cocktail samples;
Ivies, yet, seem to start flowering,
Your scent, like clear cologne, hovering...!
Seeds! Fallen like very falls of Christ!
Though within womb of earth, iced and sliced;
Will resurrect and resuscitate,
Ascend toward ethereal state...!
I sense you, dear autumn, you tickle,
Each vein of heart and mind, you prickle;
Falling of leaves makes me unhappy,
I know, they'd spring greenish and sappy...!
20 August 2022
Hint of Autumn Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Regina McIntosh
gray day
gray velvet
velvet pillows
velvet cheeks
cheeks flushed
cheeks pale white
white as snow
white as paper
paper cranes
paper boats
boats which sail ponds
boats reflected
reflected from clouds forms
forms made by children
forms diminutive
diminutive fingers
diminutive toes
toes cool in the water
toes nibbled
nibbled peanut butter sandwiches
nibbled blueberries
blueberry skies
blueberry tongues
tongues of storm
tongues of rain
rain on the lashes
rain on the grass
grass covered in droplets
grass Kelly green
green luscious in low light
green wet and clean
clean as the storm crossed day
clean as an oragami lily
lily of the valley
lily sweet the day
day of cool quietude
day subtle and warm
warm as hot caramel
warm as your arms
arms strong
arms engulfing
engulfing the sky and earth
engulfing the passive scene
scene full of storm clouds now
scene of umbrella laughter
laughter of children pink-cheeked
laughter in sapphire eyes
eyes mischievous
mischievous
eyes
*Image of Flying Cranes by Pixabay.
Zoetic Long-Legged Birds
A crane flew down and stood still on its stilts,
their necks straighten in flights,
a heron too would stand in silts,
of lakes or bights.
Heron's neck forms an "S" shape when they fly,
functions like some egrets,
beak's long versus shorten ally,
character sets.
The contrasts between herons and egrets,
are plumage and their hues,
cranes only eat plants--they're dead set,
holds distinct views.
2023 January 16
*3rd Place*
Writing Challenge - Zip, Zig, Zag, Zing
~~Constance La France: Judged 2023 January 17
*RZ & HMS.
How beautiful and discreet, this port, at night,
When you listen to fado, come that voice, Misia
It becomes deep and mysterious, sonorous,
Its numerous lights are warm as wool.
How enchanting this port, at night, o night
Between the sea and the starry sky that sleeps,
Its illiterate cranes are so stupid, yes,
Yet they really know the pain of the world,
How beautiful, so quiet on the horizon, this port,
When listening to fado, O Misia, my queen,
We want to love you like Lisbon or Porto, now
I understand Rimbaud abandoning poetry.
Qu’il est beau et discret, ce port, la nuit,
Quand vous écoutez du fado, cette voix, Misia
Il devient profond et mystérieux, sonore,
Ses lumières sont chaudes comme la laine.
Qu’il est enchanteur ce port, la nuit, O nuit
Entre la mer et le ciel étoilé qui dort,
Ses grues analphabètes sont si bêtes, oui,
Elles savent pourtant la douleur du monde,
Qu’il est beau, si calme sur l’horizon, ce port,
Quand on écoute du fado, O Misia, ma reine,
On veut t’aimer comme Lisbonne ou Porto, Enfin,
Je comprends Rimbaud qui abandonne la poésie.
A building’s going up across
The river and I find
Though I’ve watched it be constructed,
Still, it really blows my mind.
Where once was just some empty space,
The crew and all their cranes
Have built a massive structure;
Now no empty space remains.
I don’t know how they do it
But it’s rising really fast,
The view forever altered,
For that building’s meant to last.
It doesn’t block the river –
Well, at least from where I sit,
Though the residents who live behind it
Might just have a fit
Since this brand-new edifice appears
To 99%
Cause all those unlucky souls to wonder
Where the river went.
Our wing span is six to eight feet
Our V-formation cannot be beat
We fly from the Ukraine to Germany
Winters are spent in North Africa you see
Our wings flap all the way across the sea
Our long legs rest as we travel in our vee.
We soar on thermal currents when over land
High altitudes help us glide in our little band.
We are the Eurasian Cranes, pleased to meet you.
Our hairy crest announces our type quickly too.
We can fly as high as thirty-three thousand feet.
Our socialization skills are to be envied, they are sweet.
If you want to see us, come to the Ukraine.
You can hike, walk, or take the holiday train.
When you see a large pterodactyl-like bird up in the sky.
With a huge wingspan, it is probably us, gliding by.
regrets rise and fall
chafing at the frayed nerve endings of a finite life,
unfolding like origami cranes around the neck of kamikaze pilots
chewing at the bones of our discontent,
leaving holes in the fabric being.
regrets, like and of, unborn children
never growing to fruition, never falling
bud to blossom they decay, never reaching the Guf
pointless misconceptions of a wary heart
first born in joy left to rot in sorrow.
regrets rise and fall
yet we chose to retain them in the after-image
of retinal flares, ocular migraines inwardly staring
toward Gabriel’s outstretched palm
embryos unblessed.
never regret
ever regret
never