Long Dapples Poems
Long Dapples Poems. Below are the most popular long Dapples by PoetrySoup Members. You can search for long Dapples poems by poem length and keyword.
This morning,
the sun-rise dapples bright yellow hues
onto the dark green leaves,
creating a lemon-lime splash.
The trees are still after a brief, breezy, sober night. The cool air chills the skin.
This morning
the birds are unseen, though their greetings, their songs, delight.
The trees within which they twill
reach for the sky, for each other..
they are of a lavish Summer flush;
they feel honored to be so adorned
by the Sun,
to wear such a golden effulgence.
Though they remain watchful, on guard.
This morning,
a shy cricket or two meekly chants.
This morning,
the windows of the apartments quietly refract the sunlight; their egg-shell-white blinds sleep.
This morning
is of a painting, oils of mellifluous sky colors.
Watching the Wake
The river serenity incarnate.
Water a liquid mirror holding sky, trees
Light falling, late summer eve perfection.
We smoothly glide along in the small boat
With old friends,
Saying nothing.
Looking behind us all the way
For hours, fascinated
I study how our wake unfolds behind us
From tossing turbulence
To a small and perfect wave behind that,
Curling at the ends just so,
Light falling into those curls
As though it were obsidian being shaved,
Short straight dapples across its ever forming edge
Then behind that
A nearly flat wider wave
Fans out to vanish into the river.
There's a lot of great art being made by this,
I think
So simple
So beautiful
Eternal, transient.
So it goes with us,
I feel
Our lives are our constant art,
Unfolding without plan.
Of spires of timbers tall,
mountains in the beauty of ancient.
The eagle’s flight takes my earthly breath,
as Native American spirit tales whisper
in the cool misty valley.
Lakes blue mirror the changing clouds,
sunlight dapples gold in the pine straw,
the deer with their grace.
I see my children the howling wolves,
their gray shadows loping through the
forest with their young.
Lumbering grizzlies dine on berries,
their cubs curious climbing a small
tree.
A hum of honeybees bobbing on
blooms.
Sierra Club is made up of so many
environmentalists to heal the
hurting earth.
Another generation joins in the cause
of her survival and a love for her.
The afternoon becomes a purple and
pink twilight,
crickets begin a starry song rising so
eloquent,
as the bats welcome night’s hunting,
with a whoosh of myriads of wings.
Thank you, Sierra Club,
this senior is proud to be a member. ~
Fresh spots of violet creak through the sky
Silently, violently assaulting the eye
Lavenders blush in the sweetest of hue
Spring has arrived with the calmness of blue
Soft summer rain dapples the floor
Raindrops like diamonds on the old barnyard door
The orange of sunset, as the dragonflies glow
And the mesmerised sounds, as the young cattle low
Warm autumn apples fall from the bough
To be sprinkled with honey for the fattening sow
Pumpkins erupt in shimmering gold
As the sheep return leisurely to the warmth of the fold
Crisp winter cold is dark and succinct
Foreboding clouds all around, as the sun is extinct
The jingle of sleigh bells can be heard up ahead
As the enveloping stillness leads you to bed
This is the landscape I rule without a crown.
A yard beneath a canopy of mango leaves
where afternoon sun lingers
beneath the boughs, exposing where doves
choose to roost overnight.
This is my garden - morning light
gleams over an aqua pool,
refracts, as a breeze sends
dapples over a long row of palms.
I was the one to dictate the thick
summer planting of tall bamboo
persuaded by added privacy
on the dividing fence,
This is my world and I am
the impossible one who will decree
what is painted, what remains unpainted,
where the birdbath will sit,
or, what species to plant.
I rule this landscape that the sky
changes each moment,
but not the phrases of birdsong
that slip from every branch
or each petal that unfolds,
unbidden.
Suzanne Delaney
Dawn's light roused me from morning mist
Upon my breast, his amber pendant lies
Gently awakened when warmly kissed
as sunlight dapples across my sleepy eyes
Upon my breast, an amber pendant lies
I stand at my window in a whisp of a gown
as sunlight dapples across my sleepy eyes
I weep in fear that my heart may drown
I stand at my window in a whisp of a gown
feeling the sun's comfort in a loving embrace
I weep in fear that my heart may drown
Tears brush my cheeks as he touched my face
Feeling the sun's comfort in a loving embrace
Gently awakened when warmly kissed
Tears brush my cheeks as he touched my face
Dawn's light roused me from morning mist
^__________May 23rd, 2017___________^
Contest: Form P, sponsored by Broken Wings
I step beyond my front door, shoes brushing dew
And the air is crisp, familiar-something old, something new.
The sky unfolds in pale gold, the sparrows sing the same tune,
And I swear, I've wandered here before, beneath the waking moon.
Sunlight dapples over lawns just as it always does,
Neighbors wave, dogs bark, the world's gentle hum abuzz.
Every scent, each rustle, is a whisper from the past:
The rustling trees greet me-echoes that forever last.
My feet trace the sidewalk cracks, memory's soft parade,
I know the way the breeze feels, the shifting light and shade.
Deja vu in every heartbeat, in every glance I steal-
It seems, like yesterday, this day was wholly real.
Yet, as I wander outward, with wonder and with grace,
I find new meaning hidden in every time-worn place.
Perhaps I've lived this day before, or dreamed it in the night,
But outside, in the morning sun, the world feels just as right.
World stills of nature's hospitality
showing modesty and humility.
Sunlight dapples the hill's locality
winking through pines peace and tranquility.
A living, breathing, viability
cascading aquatic agility,
fluttering independent entity,
shine purely within the vicinity.
Dark trees, ferns, await dawn's stability
alive in amazing facility.
Birds sing providing audibility.
Brilliance with mental capability,
My mind's eye exceeds my ability
course the utmost responsibility
becoming a part of me willingly.
Warm seasons ebbing a reality,
winter will follow in servility.
5/27/2018
.
a day’s diary
turns to unwritten pages….
a new sun rises
from smoldering dark,
a spark ignites heart of dawn…
flames kindle the hills
darkness falls away
like the velvet rose petals....
a gold ring of sun
soft slippered skies watch
while drowsy earth awakens….
garlands of pink clouds
sun kisses the frost
with glittery lace designs…
dapples of white glass
begging attention,
the garden bursts into bloom…
valentine bouquet
all the red roses
stand tall with unabashed pride…
birds sing from the heart
P.S. Each morning sunrise is a valentine's gift. :)
For P.D.'s Contest: Valentine Haiku
Ah, the fortitude of a circle
the circular wisdom
of spring to summer fall to winter
the spinning wheel’s twist of threads -
at once both self-reliant and reliant
my soul to embryo seed to seedling
the mettle it takes for the genesis;
for my poppy pod to wake and break
a tiny speck of matter a fleck of duality unleashed
I surrender my dormancy to the earth -
roots reach deep like pale squiggly fingers
..for my kernel was laid to rest to bustle to life..
while my headstrong head pushes up through the soil
I come to be.. like a new idea taking shape
a physical being grounded
while seeking the realm of the Sun
the source of spirit as essential
as the dark womb from which I emerge
with a heart budding with the universe from nothing
I sprout as a sprig from a rounded grain
conceived in a gold-dusted flurry of furry buzz..
a bumblebee's dalliance with the center of a whorl
a mote of pollen so mite-like -- but
m i g h t y
in purpose potential and power
woven together in the art of creation
wind-driven autumn rains and sips of melted snow
..mother’s milk during the passage of time..
sweetly feeds the gentle needs for my tender birth
daystar’s dabble-dance with shadows
charm the chill from the cradle of the garden floor -
warm ginger dapples flit to find me between
canopy gaps in swish and sway..
mini-spots mirroring the disk of the Sun reminds me;
the image of what I’ll become
when my solar heart shines in a petal-chalice of flame..
rapture stirs the layers of humus
penetrating my essence with a ripening
stoking my fortitude to fulfill my destiny
to break free of that which holds me down
and reach ever higher inspired by a promise;
the golden circle of solace.. the bull's-eye in the sky
whose glow does kiss and grow my soul -
my inner space of bright sure to blaze
in a blossom cup’s confinement
my soul to embryo seed to seedling
sown to assure my flowering
my earthy ascension fulfills Nature’s cycle of nativity;
above the loam I rise to unfurl
and lift my airy leaves’ uncurl up high
in praise of the light
as the end of a gray season curves
into the festive yellow equinox of resurgence