Long Gurgle Poems
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she has a special magic
or so it seems to me
in the early morning when i rise
i process the beans in the grinder
a short succession of tasks
the coffee is brewing
aroma of her hint of cinnamon
fills the kitchen
as i wait i look out the window
dawn has erased all the darkened shadows
the flowers line the property's end
all are ready for the day
i speak their language, tell them to be patient
let me take her coffee and a pastry
she will be with you shortly
it is Saturday and your day with her
tomorrow is Sunday and i am whisking
her away on a picnic
she does this to me you know
everything she touches becomes family
we share conversations about her
the coffee pot is in its last gurgles
remember, cream, one lump i hear
apple turnover, warmed, buttered
the tray is now filled and ready
pushing me to a faster pace
i turn to the coffee pot, thank you
be right back for mine
as i disappear into the hallway
there is a last gurgle, you're welcome
she has a special magic, everything she touches
becomes family to me
3/3/19 Kismet
Florida Nature
Lizard Smile – iguana neon green
In Florida some things are larger than the state
Summer is forever way down there
Lizards grow neon bright in hidden vegetation
Capture bugs on long tongues with a smile
Spanish moss veils the grasses wicked and dense
Birds of prey station themselves above nature
Thick trees and underbrush offer up moving meals
Humidity is always the welcome guest
Bushes grow long beards of briar, since it is so hot
Foliage can grow anywhere without permission
Green things prefer Florida over Texas though
As indicated or inferred
Swamps hold the rains in place; feed the young fish and birds
Nature down there tells a story dinosaur old and ancient
Symphonies of greenery thrive in secrecy
Drink the brooks winding wild
Trickling sounds from the water gurgle, “It’s nice to be alive”
Created on 3/07/15 for - Florida Nature – Poetry contest- sponsored by Rhonda Johnson- Saunders – Subject painting is “Wild Symphony”
He traveled round the whole world
Behind the computer screen
In search of that fountain fair
That would fulfill his every dream
The great poet explorer
Journeyed places far and near
His longing unquenchable
It overcame every fear
The fountain he had to find
Was not that of endless youth
Nor was it that of beauty
If you must know the truth
It was the fountain of love
That he vowed he would find
Age and beauty drowned in love
Love was blind and it was kind
He tasted many fountains
Quenched his thirst for just a while
Some had youth, others beauty
When fulfilled, he then would smile
But he soon got discouraged
For they could not satisfy
He then continued his search
His quest he could not deny
He stumbled upon a stream
That sparkled so crystal clear
He was sure this must be it
Gushing water drew him near
He touched its liquid beauty
Saw his face reflected there
Heard the stream gently whisper,
“To come in you must be bare.”
And so he stripped off his clothes
Got lost in her sweet embrace
Not wanting to resurface
He forgot all time and place
But the stream pushed him above
He heard her gurgle his name
“Your search at last is over
You’ll no longer be the same.
You think that I’m the secret
To all you’ve been searching for
And yes, I am refreshing
But the truth is something more
The fountain is inside you
The source of a love divine
From this source all streams are fed
Your love feeds this stream of mine
You see, you’ve come full circle
It's me you first tasted of
But you deemed there must be more
You left in search of that love
The fountain is inside you
Youth beauty and love, all three
Drink well, then let them all flow
To my stream, replenish me.”
The explorer pitched his tent
By the sweet gurgling stream
He'd finally found a home
A place to live out his dream
Eileen Manassian Ghali
In a similar poem before
I spoke of snow and snow again
But as we drove down the mountain
The doors led to different store
The snow was melting into green
The more we came down from Zuluk
Now a fountain and then a brook
Sun and shadow in love umpteen
So dense was love of snow for tree
That its very soul turned deep green
As the union grew serene
It was a hilly greening spree
Up and across ever green hill
Now grey and then blue sky above
Almond, coffee, all in green love
Nathula snow now a green thrill
The old silk route trip turned a dream
Then the world returned with a struggle
With our ears on music of gurgle
Jingling from the inviting stream
But to speak of Reshi Khola
I will need another umbrella
Like riding on waves wavering
not sure where it takes me
searching for a log just to hold on,
but helpless, and alone in an abyss.
Slumber, how I wish a day's sleep
to keep everything aside, and rest,
in my beloved’s lap, that warm lap.
Hours of cuddling , sweet lovemaking
the joy of belonging, drugged in love
kissing her wet lips, warmth so alluring
And a rest in the arms of the beloved.
But now left in life's wilderness
Searching For the lost oasis.
will I reach it before die of thirst?
or be buried in unfulfilled dreams.
Night again, pitch dark, dead silent
A chill passes through my spine
Spreads and chokes me like a python.
Unable to move, pushing to oblivion.
Me not alone ,have memories so fond
enough to rekindle, like resurrection,
The memory of love and her warmth
the lingering fragrance of the past
Enough to live on but why tears still?
This silence has thousand tongues
Audible silence of a forgotten living
told in a lovers song, life of the lonely.
long ride of a dreamer, moving yet still,
pangs of fatigue, a thirst so hurting.
The morning sun, on a spring
winter not far away, naked trees shy
Rushing to cover with new foliage.
song of the cuckoos, resting on twigs
Echoes of distant church bell chimes ,
the creepers waving to the farmers
dews, shining diamonds in dawn rays
the gurgle of the sparkling stream
In thickets the chirpings of love birds
smell of raw earth, ants lined in order,
the cattle linedup, heading pastures
A silhouette afar dressed in snow
A hoof sound of a horse in its course
It's all fine dear to exalt my heart
but on a lonely day it's all wasted gift.
Wandering in search, to love reclaim
Where should I search that I lost
than in your own heart love preserved
my life, a loser's lament, a dirge-
of a priest burying the dead in cold
a whisper of the devil to the cursed
a mistake of the master of creation
Blemish on the moon reflecting sun
yet a crave to live, if she were here.
Even the mirage formed by memories
Make me wander in arid deserts
where the sun burns all it's fuel .
I sustain on dreams wandering
living! a faint feeling now hurting.
the heart is dried unable to beat
but somewhere, just a feeble throb
a throb that lost rhythmic speed.
just waiting for her sweet breath
To inclaim my life with her love.
My teeth walked down the stairs today
Molar stepped on aluminum and I yelled “hey!”
They were rioting to protest the new floss.
I rolled my eyes; after all, I am the boss!
My mouth tried to speak but nothing came out
Not whisper, a gurgle, a cough or a shout.
My teeth snickered; a sassy incisor cheered.
They were gaining momentum as I had feared!
My tongue gave me a wagging; I heard not a word.
Those damn teeth had made my face feel absurd.
My teeth began dancing, in the night, in the street.
To a crazy, happy, sensual reggae beat.
How to get them back? What would I have to do?
I promised them the moon, and new floss too….
Today, it's a warm splash in a rubber pool
bright bobbing toys-smiling,
A giggle with every splash...
too soon it'll be the open ocean
silver things darting just beneath the feet
a gasp with every splash and every flash off teeth.
A journey all must take
they call it growth-
Out from the shadow of comfort zones...
reaching for unreachable goals.
family-blood-security, be damned.
One could get lost in the froth
fighting off gulls waiting to steal your French fry refrain.
It's all about survival
ignoring stings
the shell games
dolphin man jumping through golden rings
salt smiling.
Someday you'll make it back home
back through the backstabbing breakers
but home will be nothing like you remembered it to be.
"Hallowed be her name, who's art is Earth".
She stood sheltered, a companion
to Maple, Alder and Willow.
A busy brook flowed
in accompaniment
to the chorus of bird song
perfect in her presence.
The patron had fulfilled her will
for a magical and protected place.
A peaceful tranquility
that celebrated her coming as a completion.
As though nature knew an absence
without her.
Through the sculptor's wielding
of her chisel and hammer
she conveyed the features, the stance
that would become her persona.
Her enkindling presence illuminating
the rough studio of her origin.
Where the vision that furrowed the brow;
informed the craft and art to reveal,
hands compliant, what slept within the stone.
Distraught by a midnight's harrowing
I come to her, seeking solace
from my existential crisis.
By sliver of silver moonlight.
My hand against her chest
her chill and my warmth flow.
Until languid, I lay upon the pedestal.
A reverent supplicant
in Pre-Raphaelite pose.
The brooks rhythmic gurgle and splash
benumbing my anguish, till words surface
intuitively, of blasphemy and beauty.
June of nineteen seventy-two,
Favorite month of my life so far
Brand new baby girl with eyes of blue
Mother’s instinct showed me what to do.
She was our family’s newest star.
June of nineteen seventy-two.
Hopeful feelings and wishes quickly grew
Our Angela truly raised the bar
Loved each baby gurgle and tender coo
Sentimentality sticks like glue
Love’s sweet memory in soul’s fire jar,
June of nineteen seventy-two
Cuddling child oh so new
Perfect bliss, much more than par
Rivaling violet’s love of dew.
Honoring glory of rainbow’s hue,
This child with her eyes of blue made glorious
June of nineteen seventy-two
Written 7-8-2020
Contest: Month of Year I liked the Most, type Villanelle
Sponsor: Mohan Chutani
Scarlet shadows linger in the deep recesses of the forest
Slithering snakes cautiously sliding under the leaves
Making their way toward enlightenment
A curious journey of their well-deserved solitude
Hushed silence permeates the forest
Stretching an emotional feeling of reverence
Not felt in other less sacred places
Faerie magic dances on mushroom houses
Every footstep brings me closer to my soul self
Wisdom of rocks nod softly at my inner thoughts
Guarded and protected, encircled by oak soldiers
I sit lightly, admiring the brook few have ever seen
There is such a lightness surrounding this darkness
Angels are near, and they can be felt and sometimes heard
In the whispers of the forest trees and the gurgle of the brook.
A leaf floats down gently, landing at my feet. I am delighted.
Date: 12-06-2019
Contest: Your Best New Poem
Sponsor: Emile Pinet