Long Here and there Poems
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I had a duck named Sylee.
She was little when we met.
I loved her and she loved me.
She became my perfect pet.
She grew fast, then grew some more.
She followed me here and there.
One day she went through the door
to enjoy the morning air.
She wandered in the back yard.
She liked the freedom of it.
I built a pool, it wasn't hard.
She could bathe and swim a bit.
When she was one, maybe two,
she got another best friend,
my cousin's pet rabbit, Boo.
They played a game of pretend.
Boo dug tunnels in the ground.
Sylee thought it dandy fun.
She followed Boo all around.
Through tunnels she tried to run.
One day the fun took a turn.
She tried reverse, but was stuck.
A tragic lesson to learn.
Black end to Sylee the Duck.
Sitting on a Greyhound awaiting to depart
Memphis being the start
My Greyhound bus ticket has no specific destination with only “Anywhere Bound”
The feeling is where to find the possibilities in where to settle
Journey into a new life
No fiddle faddle
Reclining in my seat, and just imagine my life through the off ramp in discovering my destiny
Miles upon miles will give me plenty time thinking while
Observing the various trucks, cars and other bus coaches as I view through the bus picture windows
Destinations in so many directions, North, South, East and West
Remembering an old slogan, “GO WEST YOUNG MAN”
There’s much to chose, but don’t dwell on confused
As the Greyhound bus wheels roll while kicking up dust and acceleration
My journey is the turning point in what is to come
Goals centered in my head in how to follow through
Destiny in control
Perhaps a town or major city being my objective
I am very subjective
Sense of commitment
Courage to move on
Through the days and nights
What settlement is in sight
Greyhound bus, show me the way
My journey in the horizon
People and places
Any place for me to be
Just relax and wait and see
Mysteries of my journey to anticipate
A place I can call home and appreciate
Greyhound bus stops here and there
A journey I experience that I can only share
Memphis was my start
I might be San Antonio where I might disembark
Texas wind and a Horse ride
Adventure that is what the state will provide
Fulfillment I see in my face
Achievement to follow
San Antonio is the place
Just for me
A place to see
Dwell and acquaint
San Antonio is my take away
New life and friendship
I have arrived
Destiny control
That Greyhound bus helped me to be bold
Behold
The mysterious Mangrove breathes in dark shadows.
The deer roam and graze verdant emerald leafy feast,
Something fierce lurks there veiled in thick meadows.
Monkeys rant beholding a dark-streaked yellow beast.
Even a sunny morning seems to be dark, dark twilight.
The murky rutted soil keeps the treading feet tottered,
Still they gaze not bellow but peek around upper sight
As they feel something moving near them, unsighted.
So many muddy ways lay here untrodden and brazen.
Here and there several one-wayward footsteps of deer
Are imprinted in the hardened slush as if it had frozen.
In the hushed wind resound the numb trumpets of fear.
Evening comes with some hissing, howling, growling.
Pythons make move, tigers tread and cruel eyes glare.
Whole of Mangrove waits with a tremulous quivering
As Nature’s red tooth haunts with the whispering air.
I hold three magic rocks, in my hand
Rolling them over and over and over
Leaving this reality behind, far behind
Distracted, I am just a rover.
For I have wandered in a field of fog
I cannot see or feel or know
Where I am going until the air had cleared
And a vast land displayed a great chateau.
Large mushroom like trees grow here and there.
With palms swishing lightly in the lawn,
But in the middle elves stand on guard
A beautiful woman is tied to a pole like a pawn.
I roll the magic rocks and a nasty sound blared.
The elves disappear and I quickly untie the beauty.
We run out into the fog and find a rocky patch.
She is hungry. The rocks yield berries fruity.
Danger lurk above as an eagle soared
She magically got a bow and shot down the bird
Others appear the fugitives must flee. A unicorn appears.
They climb upon the magic horse and spurred.
Now I have only one magic rock: what to do?
I wish to be back in my home and in laughter
We arrive safe and sound. We will be married
And you know what: we live happily ever after.
I can see us now, sitting out back under the fruitless mulberry tree. Whether sitting side by side in lawn or rocking chairs, we are talking, smiling, and occasionally, holding hands.
Our three children are fine and so are the six grand kids. We are grateful to the Lord for their health and general welfare. We did something right, because all three are out and on their own. Hooray! They are emancipated!
Many were the days and years of our lives, with both the joys and the sorrows. But we are here now, both happily retired. Forty years married and together still, no excuses, no regrets.
On the patio or under the canopy, a bird stops by and sings a quick tune and flies away. A squirrel or two climbs from the tree, and hurries across the yard in search of fresh nuts or some other seeds. Peaches and tomatoes, we all get along just fine, not watching the world pass us by, just birds and squirrels instead.
During swell with a minor ache or pain here and there. But not to worry, not much for which to be sorry, and no need to hurry. God has always been good and faithful.
My wife strikes up with an acapella chorus of “He Touched Me”, followed by another favorite of “In His Time”. Yes, we rejoice, because He is still touching us and making all things beautiful, in His time.
We speak of times, people, places, and events; some recent and others of the distant past. Like when and where we met. Like our beloved pastor who joined us in Holy matrimony. And yes, like the long drive through the night from Chicago to our honeymoon site in North Western Wisconsin.
Moreover, I get romantic and begin to speak of her smile, a head turning and beautiful heart catching smile. The smile that swept me away, compelling a stoic and shy young man of 20 like me to confidently say, “Hello”.
We trust that we are wiser now than we were back then and back there. Clearly, there is no doubt that we are grateful to be growing old together.
cj12282012PS
The roses,the daisies,the sunflowers,the irises,
So many wonderful and lovely flowers He has made,
The sun, the soil, the rain, they all come to their aid,
Sometimes, in my garden some lay under a nice shade
The yellows,the purples,the pinks,the reds and the blues,
In so many colors and shades for our pleasure He has made,
And He's created them all with you and me really in mind,
They're all here and there from Him all for us ready-made
Some are so strikingly beautiful and some are just plain-looking,
Some flowers have a wonderful perfume and intoxicating smell,
Some of them have no fragrance or any sweet scent to gift at all,
Some flowers like the rose, richly cast us under their lovely spell
To me flowers are like these magical and magnificent creatures,
And I can't never get enough of them and their beauty night or day.
Dorian Petersen Potter
aka ladydp2000
copyright@2005
November,05,2014
The pearl Indian Ocean,my soil,Sri Lanka a blessed with no less anything,so impressed .Flora and fauna wherever to see and smell,mountain ranges sitting like angels in the central adding beauty,the rivers turning like snakes in all directions spring from their mother mountain genes.
It rains in all monsoons sometimes fails.Here and there some reservoirs holding rain water to generate hydroelectric power.Rotating Sun all over the world in March summer marched down here in Sri Lanka burning the Lankan heads.Rain falls here in monsoons and fails sometimes even during monsoon.The Sun in thirst drinking the waters with its ray hands,holding in the reservoirs until they are running dry.Sudden power cuts imposed for want of rain to the dismay of people.
When it rains in monsoons water,water everywhere in liters everyone to drink.But in March summer not a glass to drink.Power cuts imposed hitting the pockets of masses and crunch state treasury is like insult to injury.
Failing is in human genes came from Adam in Paradise but God never fails.God gives enough water even all to swim for years.How can it happen to rain every moment everyone like? God has given the sixth sense instead to make use of it to decide what’s right and what’s wrong.Men for his foolishness fail in his decisions and pass the blame on God for no rain.If men is that wise he has to save rain water in a proper way to utilize it when there is no rain.
We have enough learned people here but these unlearned give no room for the learned knowing geography,the one much learned mathematics but the unlearned let the learned to watch their monkey dancing to the tune of ignorance.It’s like
Dogs bark not allowing cows to chew grass!
*Inspired by a comment Marikate Kingston made on one of my poems.
Not for contest.
First I was small, shorter than flowers around me
The world was so vast, a kingdom to see
Then time flew fast and I felt stronger each season
Some things passed me quickly without any reason
Birds flew by, but others stopped to take a rest
I could feel them on my branches, some would make a nest
In years I felt change, with colors of my leaves, I stood tall
I let go through these times, as my acorns would fall
I saw people come along and sit beneath me in the shade
I watched love, heard their laughter, saw picnics made
One young girl decided she would make a swing
She had so much fun, in the breeze, she would sing
One time an owl startled me during the night
It seemed to find its respite, in the glow of moonlight
I had some long time friends around me, ash, birch and pine
The sun would reach each one of them as they would shine
The storms could be fierce, breaking branches here and there
We all had our stories that we would love to share
How our strength helped us survive, rooted in the ground
As everyone walked by, we stood speechless without a sound
*I could tell many stories, written in rings through the years
I will leave that up to my baby acorns and all their happy cheers
Heidi Sands
8/23/23
In the early morning of Thursday,
Down the way to the down bush,
To fetch bamboo for Mah’s firewood,
He came across the untold and the unseen,
Just to speak the doubtable.
Few days after,
The community gathered,
Murmuring in their bellies,
Pointing accusing fingers here and there,
Blaming the grand-pa, aunt and uncle for witch craft;
Ignoring the happened,
Not knowing every one has got his/her own tern into the barber’s shop.
Perhaps,
Things should have been the other way;
For these moments to be time enough.
But as my people say;
“Troubles are like chilli the add flavour to life.”
And what account shall I then give?
On what, madness?
Besides; what conclusion?
I could stand here questioning the whole world,
But the truth is;
There are no shortcuts to the top of a coconut tree.
It continues...
PERPETUAL PETALS
The
bouquet
of autumn,
lasts but a short
while-
but
real
flowers live-
that spring from our
soul
to
sprinkle
here and there
in posies of
love-
such
coloured
aromas,
garland others'
day
SPRING
Purple vetch and ribwort plantain
Jostle lush clover in English rain
Dogrose dotted on a briared sprawl
prickly as it meandrs tall
Speaking volumes of words,unheard
Spring,flowers,in which all senses merge
FLOWERS OF THE FIELD
Daisy,buttercup,yellow cowslip
together mix in fellowship
MUTED
Silent,
nature's flowers
with which all senses merge-
become a dialogue with words
unheard.
SYMBOLIC INTUTION
She
moved the
empiric
into abstract
form
from
above
and beyond
the natural
view-
a
close-up
of flowers
in magnified
bloom
Ekphrasis tribute to Georgia O'Keeffe
LOVELIER than LILAC structured prose
Along the primrose path,passion flowers
luminous beauties all of a flutter,true,
natural and gentle on the stream of time.
This drift of time fashions silence into
words,silent thoughts.flowers of perfect
speech by wayside haunts.Sights sounds
and secrets so full of sweet song.
Songs of picture poetry chasing shadows
in an eclectic amalgam ,lovelier than lilac
FLOWERY WORDS
Meadowsweet & wiilow herb
and forget-me-nots
Blue,white,green & yellow
Wild flowers in abundance
Pastel shade my garden plot
LITTLE PIECES OF HEAVEN
Flowers to us,may teach
as to them,our fingers reach,
of God's love,they preach
Flowers to us,so bright
colours to fill our sight,
reveal to us,God's delight
Flowers each day to inspire,
igniting poetic fire,
God's poiema,never tire
Flowers,that smell so sweet,
good enough for us to eat,
'til that day,God we'll meet
Changed in a moment,our bodies too
on that earth and heaven, new
inspired by Christina Rossetti poem Lillies of the field