Long Rambunctiously Poems
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FOR ONLY A MOMENT
I CLOSED MY EYES ,
IMAGINATION ,
STORMED BY SUPRISE
THE HUSTLE AND BUSSLE ,
OF WHIRLING WINDS ,
MINGLING TOGETHER ,
BEFORE THE SHOW BEGINS
CLOUDS RAPIDLY GATHERED ,
AND FILLED THE SEATS.
AS IF TO ENJOY ,
A SUMMER TIME FEAT.
THE RUMBLE OF THUNDER
BUILT TO A ROAR
LIGHTING STRUCK
AND LIT UP THE FLOOR.
A DOWN POUR OF RAIN
FELL FROM THE SKIES
AS BOLTS OF LIGHTING
TRIUMPHANTLY FLY.
THE PITTER PATTER
OF RAIN IN THE TREES
BROUGHT TO LIFE
EMERGING NEW LEAVES.
THE WILD FLOWERS
RAMBUNCTIOUSLY PLAY
AS THE LUSCIOUS RAINDROPS
SOAKED UP THE DAY.
AS THE CLOUDS DISSIPATED ,
THE RAIN FADED AWAY.
ALL THAT WAS LEFT ,
WAS A BEAUTIFUL DAY.
A FLORESCENT RAINBOW
STREACHED CROSS THE SKY
TO THE AMAZEMENT
OF SPECTATORS EYES
THE SUN RETURNED SMILING ,
AS IF HAPPY TO REIGN ,
OVER THUNDER , LIGHTING
AND THE SUMMER TIME GAMES
Michael E. Harris
03072020
FOR ONLY A MOMENT
I CLOSED MY EYES ,
IMAGINATION ,
STORMED BY SUPRISE
THE HUSTLE AND BUSSLE ,
OF WHIRLING WINDS ,
MINGLING TOGETHER ,
BEFORE THE SHOW BEGINS
CLOUDS RAPIDLY GATHERED ,
AND FILLED THE SEATS.
AS IF TO ENJOY ,
A SUMMER TIME FEAT.
THE RUMBLE OF THUNDER
BUILT TO A ROAR
LIGHTING STRUCK
AND LIT UP THE FLOOR.
A DOWN POUR OF RAIN
FELL FROM THE SKIES
AS BOLTS OF LIGHTING
TRIUMPHANTLY FLY.
THE PITTER PATTER
OF RAIN IN THE TREES
BROUGHT TO LIFE
EMERGING NEW LEAVES.
THE WILD FLOWERS
RAMBUNCTIOUSLY PLAY
AS THE LUSCIOUS RAINDROPS
SOAKED UP THE DAY.
AS THE CLOUDS DISSIPATED ,
THE RAIN FADED AWAY.
ALL THAT WAS LEFT ,
WAS A BEAUTIFUL DAY.
A FLORESCENT RAINBOW
STREACHED CROSS THE SKY
TO THE AMAZEMENT
OF SPECTATORS EYES
THE SUN RETURNED SMILING ,
AS IF HAPPY TO REIGN ,
OVER THUNDER , LIGHTING
AND THE SUMMER TIME GAMES
Michael E. Harris
03072020
When Autumn scenes arrive in Munich, Germany,
Exciting times bring visitors from far and near,
With people dancing, singing, mugs of beer held high,
In halls or tents, saluting so rambunctiously, and
Loving our Oktoberfest with heartfelt cheer that
Lasts more than two weeks with much to see and do.
Parades, arcades, and rides, much like a carnival,
Aglow with dancers in bright Bavarian dress, and
Rides on quaint, old-fashioned pretty carousels,
Together with the varied puppet shows, are fun;
Yes, even shooting galleries to test one's aim.
Laughter and cold beer in mugs enjoyed by most;
If not one's taste, great wines are sold 'neath tents.
Kept close at hand, champagne, cocktails; also
Fresh-squeezed juices are offered if one must abstain.
The delicious food consists of many tastes and treats:
Hearty eaters gather round wild ox roast on a spit, or
Enjoyed is chicken with potato dumplings, red cabbage;
Relished too are Bratwurst, spaetzle, and baked beans,
Ending with desserts like rich black forest cake, plump
Strudels filled with fruit and gingerbread creations.
No one goes hungry at this great Oktoberfest, and
Of fests around the world, ours is one of the best.
To dance and sing with spirits high and free
On meadow grounds in city center, brings joy to
Munich, where feasts were held since eighteen-ten.
Opening with carriages and floats of costumed scenes
Reveals the promises of drink, loud songs, and dance.
Resounding well into the festive night, we sing,
Oh, happy time for us! Let's toast to love and life, and
We will party like there's no tomorrow!
Sunlight spills on sprightly steeds,
Spring's sweet song stirs sleeping seeds.
Spirited stallions, sleek and swift,
Sashaying through the springtime mist.
Silken shadows shift and sway,
In the serene, splendid break of day.
Three thoroughbreds rambunctiously thrive,
Their thunderous thumps come alive.
Pastures painted in subtle shades of green,
Outstretched playground, pure and pristine.
Playful prancing, powerful paces,
Pleasure painted on their faces.
Celebrating, chasing, carefree,
Cascading manes, wild and free.
In the cozy, comforting light,
Spring's splendor shines so bright.
Frolicking freely, feeling fine,
For this trine, dazzling day so divine.
Eternal energy, ever so spry,
Beneath the vast, vibrant sky.
in soft susurrations
and lofty aberrations,
a special specimen
spills out spontaneously,
the wan white winter rose
has withered and wilted,
but its petals wrap themselves
around arousing aromas,
the chosen bits lay frozen
under the glow of snow,
in an eerie, dreary,
ghastly, ghostly graveyard,
where silence sweeps
through weeping willows,
and cawing ravens croak
their curses rambunctiously,
winter honeysuckle climbs
in clusters near the cracked wall,
which some forgotten Pharisee
has planted for its fragrance,
bare twisted, twined branches
of wild wisteria beckon,
uncanny, uncared for tombstones
tell of their travails
to tall, tattered, tired trees,
listening listlessly, lustrelessly,
leaflessly and lifelessly...
a crackling and a rustling,
someone is bustling,
he goes straight to one gloomy tomb,
the cemetery comes alive,
awakened after hibernation,
sniffing the whiff of something different,
he spends time, cleaning the grime,
clearing his cherished love's sepulchre,
and places there a pleasant,
perfume-giving, pale piece ~
a single, white rose
~ her favourite fetish