Long Lovebirds Poems
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Tepid breeze, lull me to sleep
on this grass softer than hay;
all the aches make my brittle bones weak,
they need rest, not asking my body to wander away...
And if I fall asleep, I would like every star, spotting me.
to keep watch; and should the owls, hiding amid the shadows
of the hickories, emit very scary and strange sounds
and fix their vicious eyes on me, angels will guard me...
No harm will come to me from those treacherous evil spirits,
and by just invoking His Holy Name, it will prevent any attack on me;
and my light can be seen from far, this light which strengthens me:
and while praying alone, I will hear the fluttering of cherubs' wings...
Tepid breeze, lull me to sleep,
and without the lovebirds' song, something must
replace that harmony when a sudden rush of fear:
slowly and uninvitingly seeps into my throbbing chest...
And would I let any noise spoil this peace,
to allow distrust lessen my courage and let hope cease?
I am endowed with the faith of the martyrs that evil men are afraid of hearing;
come Satan, try to deceive me: the Holy Spirit will abide with me 'till my awakening...
Copyright 2009 by Andrew Crisci
birds of a quill, or a feather
flock together at odd times
from all four corners
of thinking creative
to jostle with keyboards,
pens and sharp pencils
fingers fidget, tap-tapping
frantic scribbling down
in notebook's lined pages
screens and keyboards
prepare for posting
all that flutters in skulls
staring blank-eyed into spaces
behind temples hot throbbing
turns tensile to tactile
steely minds become strings
unhinged yet synaptic
as typists happily fly
out of the window
out doing much undoing
with words, concrete stacks
of thoughts buried in letters
homing in on ideas is noted
by fraught-filled grey matters
e-motions will ruffle, jostle, shuffle
trying to find their feet
on narrow high perches
no one cooped up again
in confounded wired places
safety in numbers protects
from eagle-eyed predation
teeming teams have no trepidation
preening each other
pecking order in order
while who's who is related
faithful fair friends love being updated
lovebirds are word-cooing
with beak-kissing nibbles
some of us like darkness
it brings poets together
winter hibernation in torpor
taking wing in springing up ether
fancy that take off?
it's what we are made of....
all that really matters
when feathers start flying
is the daylight between them
caused not by division
but the tight act of trying
to avoid mid-air collision!
13/10/2018
Poets need poets....enough "space" for all of us!
Winter winds rattle window panes;
and yet no one ever complains.
And shadows on candlelit walls
flicker, as the flame flares and falls.
A worn-out blanket with a hole;
substitutes for a warm bedroll.
And though supplying meager heat,
a kerosene heater's a treat.
Money is as scarce as kind words,
for two impoverished lovebirds.
And though the hope held in their hearts
may dwindle, it never departs.
Poverty steals their very breath,
in this saga of life and death.
Their love helps them deal with their pain;
for it is all that keeps them sane.
Social Security's a joke;
hung around their necks like a yoke.
Poor folks are hard-pressed to exist,
and yet, no one wants to assist.
Without proper meds, death lurks near,
living in the shadow of fear.
And yet, faith is what gets them through;
thanking God for each day anew.
When we let the wealthy decide;
those without funds get swept aside.
Governments vow to fix this wrong;
let us pray the poor live that long.
An Overview
When Villonia Beebe was a baby of three
She got it in her head to trim the Christmas tree.
She lit all the pretty candles,
Tossed the matchstick away,
Sister, brother, dad, and mother
Never saw Christmas Day.
Nine years went by, she bloomed, and when Villonia was twelve,
She got a yen for French and Greek and so decided to delve.
When her language teachers asked her
What she wanted to do,
Villonia taught those profs some things
The French and Greeks never knew.
She played the field with lots of guys but at age thirty-two
She thought to get herself a steady man was what she should do.
She tried out Toms, and Dicks, and Harrys,
And then settled, in due course,
For a handsome hunk named Homer
Whose nickname was "Horse".
They lived as wife and husband then for sixty-four years,
A life of trials and tribulations, lots of laughter, lots of tears.
Homer made and sold corn "likker"
From a still up in the hills,
And Vee would sometimes turn a trick or two
To help pay the bills.
The lovebirds made their minds up when they turned ninety-five
That they would live to be the oldest couple alive,
But time and sex and "likker"
Tend to play funny tricks,
Hunky Homer kicked the bucket
At a neat ninety-six.
Villonia is alone again like when she was three.
She's outlived most of her friends and family.
As she sits, and sips, and waits her turn,
One reflection seems to calm her,
When she's found she'll be so full of 'shine,
They won't bother to embalm her.
Touch of morning
Kitchen aroma;
Caffeine fix
~~~~~~~~~
Sunlight dazzles
Myriad colours hurl;
Sights and sounds
~~~~~~~~~
Balcony duet
Lovebirds singing;
Morning serenade
~~~~~~~~~
Observe and see
Marvels of light;
Beyond words
~~~~~~~~~
Wonder tints
Calm acceptance;
Miracle moments
~~~~~~~~~
Bamboo swaying
Windy escapades;
Leafy music
~~~~~~~~~
Sample choice
Declare poise;
Fanfare moves voice
~~~~~~~~~
Pretty curves
Smiles and breasts;
Lovely delight
~~~~~~~~~
Here we sit
Aware of cares;
Stillness presides
~~~~~~~~~
Chinese herbal tea
Hot water brew;
Bitter taste comforts
~~~~~~~~~
Finesse shows
Humour fond wit;
Buzz of insight
~~~~~~~~~
Patient footprints sculpt
Telling footpath here;
Grassy shortcut
~~~~~~~~~
Morning offering
Stray house dog barks;
Urgent nature's call
~~~~~~~~~
City district buzz
Stock trades down south;
Uncertain dilemma
~~~~~~~~~
Crash and burn
Lost valuation;
Business distress
~~~~~~~~~
Sleeping partners
Awakened by loss;
Bad times hurt
~~~~~~~~~
In one swift stride
Joy ride tells;
Curvy smiles arc
~~~~~~~~~
Once upon then
Love's desire;
Discrete sensations
~~~~~~~~~
Leon Enriquez
01 May 2016
Singapore
They flutter and they flitter
Two lovebirds on the lam
Their beatings wings adorned with glitter
Tiny beads of dew reflecting in the sun.
From flower to flower they wander
A constant game of catch me if you can,
No time to wait or simply ponder
When procreation is now their only plan.
Short are the days their mission clear,
Their brief life's work comes down to this,
To live and love is what they hold most dear
One perfect union as part of Nature's bliss.
And while they dance we gaze
Lost in the beauty of their craft
Peering keenly through the wispish haze
As they glide and turn on every breath and draft.
Even the flowers smile at this fine show
Spreading their petals wide in welcome sign
Hoping that their alluring scent and glow
Will lead the lovers there to dine.
And so does nature prove it's worth
When such fine balance yields so much
As the pollen feeds the future birth
So too the flowers create from that gentle touch.
Bitter and sweet runs our inspired affair:
two brooding friends, in crisis of the heart,
suffer turmoil; but like ardent lovebirds,
we soar the same serene currents of air.
Whether coming together or apart,
we shred, then heal, with the raw power of words.
The wax and wane of our ballistic wars,
the ebb and flow of our constant campaigns,
we languish from conflict and division.
But passage through life's swift-revolving doors
transports us where relationship sustains:
with bill of rights, replete with revision.
Robbed of our missed customary foreplay,
two minds deprived of thoughtful intercourse,
we counteract with Platonic romance.
So until the Apocalypse and doomsday,
our friendship outlasts strife with tour de force,
whilst our bipolar swings in the balance.
Chuck and Nancy quite the couple
They work in tandem and speak as one,
Like two fly’s buzzing in unison
Into my space have they now come.
A New York hack and a California dreamer,
Their single purpose to stop me in my tracks,
Just when the nation needs my talent most,
All I hear from them are quacks.
There’s a national emergency
With heathens at our gates,
Rapists, robbers and molesters,
The basest form of life’s primates.
But my wall will stop them,
To protect us all,
For them to try and block it
Takes truly quite some gall.
The fight’s not over,
I’ll win this yet,
Upon the outcome
You can now bet.
Our darling lovebirds
Need watch the sky,
As this great eagle
Comes swooping by!
Curling
around the house,
the breeze was unfurling,
moving dead leaves in its twirling
fingers, apparently
satisfied with
whirling
The dance
lured the lovers
to come out and romance
under the willow's shadowed trance,
soft whispers of the breeze
inspired their love's
warm glance
Showers
gently fall on
them, even as flowers
bloom open with piquant powers,
they laugh and enjoy love's
passionate few
sweet hours
The soft
zephyr played with
trees in the woods and croft,
with laughter ringing, it does waft
mingling with mild murmurs
of love in skies
aloft
The breeze
lingers to look
at the lovebirds and tease
them with silky tendrils that squeeze,
meandering with ease,
watching o'er them
'mid trees.
05.28.2021
Form: "Heptastich"
(Syllable count: 2.4.6.8.6.4.2 with rhyme scheme: abaacda)
For Constance La France's ""Z" contest: new or old"
Love wings to nymphs
of flying termites,
Rain accords
Kindles swarming
Provokes lust, make them
Fly like lovebirds
Alates females start a new colony
Alas, the males, shed wings
grasp heavenly light
June 23 2021
Note:
An Alate is a flying Termite Swarmer...
Termites with wings (also called swarmers or alates) are reproductives that leave the nest to start new colonie
Alates prefer to swarm on an overcast day following a rain shower... They are attracted to light.
Most fly during the day, although some fly at night using lights as meeting spots.
After fertilization, the winged termites females head toward the ground where they break off their own wings and attempt to form a new colony. Males die shortly after mating