Long Sightseers Poems
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Those wooden meant to for all season,
Blue painted motored boats beacon,
Us to calm green sea waters,
To sail on and that’s all that matters.
The calm green waters dolphin rides,
Deep inside when the tide subsides.
Eight pals and two sailors sailed on
On a boat with the rent haggled upon.
Two and a half miles have gone,
Into the waters we sail on,
Squealing and giggling in delight,
Adrenalin pumped up and over excite.
The motor the sailor cuts off,
Over and over with a bit of scoff,
The dolphins they say swim and are gone
By the dull sounds of the motor whirr &drone.
Waves they splash frothy sprays
On the bodies bathed in hot sunrays,
Shrills cries of joy erupt,
From us sightseers eight on a glimpse of dolphins seen abrupt.
The wet bath suits and sun tans,
Some with hand held beer cans,
Watch the dolphins frolic in the sea
Cavorting in graceful curves both she and he.
The sailor maneuvers you to the place
Of marine life ,pelagic birds his boat with grace,
The sight of these magnificent mammals,
Feeding and playing their bodies look coated with enamel.
The thrill so great just to watch,
These mammals is just top notch
This pod of dolphins swim away,
We watch through misty sea sprays.
Salty breeze seep in our hair,
Smiling sun shines on our burnt backs bare,
The dull sounds of engine power,
The enchanting sounds of rythimic waves in my ears still hover.
By Sashi Prabhu(zeauoxian)
The day started
as a breeze without tracks
in the dew of a fresh mowed lawn;
But days come without warranty,
of things starting right,
remaining that way;
For soon after sunset
this breeze had metamorphosed
into a locomotive,
following a northeasterly path,
its only tracks, were of devastation in its wake;
Dawn, brought with it, sightseers,
and of course, a feeding frenzy of Shad
seeking cash for services,
from the aftermath of this great wind;
The area,
now resembled a war zone,
absent of bodies,
and for this I was thankful.
Then, God put a rainbow in the sky,
above Church steeple;
Was this His way of saying, time is short,
to His people?
Creeping creepy creepers, the crawling trellis
jutting out of everywhere
snaking through country and metropolis
twisting turning in floral bliss
but more like snakes that hiss
But in quietude feign death for self-defense!
Weeping willows with an unreal surreal sorrow
weeping tears of dew onto the silted furrow.
Perhaps weeping for bretheren felled
in deforestations and land clearings in
my imaginations of the call to preservation.
Against ethnic cleansing of greenery for selfish building
As per man's construction for mere recreation
Velvety-green tear- stained faces or rather foliage
When dew is stuck on them as nature's trinkets of pearls.
And over there touch-me-nots swaying coyly
like prim and proper maidens
in the fantastic floral gardens.
And what in the world is this case?
Imitation flowery in place of imitation jewellery?
Yeah, thats poinsettia in a vase
Leaves in the disguise of flowers
Its actual flowers relegated to backstage.
And ethereal fairy-slippers await their never coming wearers
and Indian pipes to be admired by Red Indian sightseers.
Oh and here's another spectacle- but sniper tactics this time
Yikes! Let the naive insect world beware!
Whilst the bloodthirsty killers lie in ambush
Those camouflaged jungle guerrillas
or should we say the venus fly-traps!
Or a more harmless one yet mimicking the scary
A snap-dragon flora, its mouth opening and snapping shut.
Then watch that mega-sized jumbo giant flora
The world's largest flower
No stems, no leaves, plant-eater plant, rafflesia.
Is it too much for the faint-hearted ha ha.
And wow now watch that incredible costume, oh my!
A flower masked as some pesky fly!
None other than the remarkable fly orchid.
And yet another, the silent music of the fiddlenecks
Fiddles as if for the light-weight fairies.
And lastly not forgetting ofcourse
the sky-blue unforgettable forget-me-nots
A memorable bouquet but themselves devoid of memory.
Ah nature lover poets if you wish to view
more of flora in a fancy dress masquerade
Go ahead and flip through the pages of
a botanical, floral
horticultural
pictorial journal.
And see for yourself the fantastic flora's charade
or else imagine them dressed as a floral renegade!
28th jan2012
By Sashi Prabhu(zeauoxian)
These wooden meant to for all season,
Blue painted motored boats beacon,
Us to calm green sea waters,
To sail on and that’s all that matters.
The calm green waters dolphin rides,
Deep inside when the tide subsides.
Eight pals and two sailors sailed on
On a boat with the rent haggled upon.
Two and a half miles have gone,
Into the waters we sail on,
Squealing and giggling in delight,
Adrenalin pumped up and over excite.
The motor the sailor cuts off,
Over and over with a bit of scoff,
The dolphins they say swim and are gone
By the dull sounds of the motor whirr &drone.
Waves they splash frothy sprays
On the bodies bathed in hot sunrays,
Shrills cries of joy erupt,
From us sightseers eight on a glimpse of dolphins seen abrupt.
The wet bath suits and sun tans,
Some with hand held beer cans,
Watch the dolphins frolic in the sea
Cavorting in graceful curves both she and he.
The sailor maneuvers you to the place
Of marine life ,pelagic birds his boat with grace,
The sight of these magnificent mammals,
Feeding and playing their bodies look coated with enamel.
The thrill so great just to watch,
These mammals is just top notch
This pod of dolphins swim away,
We watch through misty sea sprays.
Salty breeze seep in our hair,
Smiling sun shines on our burnt backs bare,
The dull sounds of engine power,
The enchanting sounds of rythimic waves in my ears still hover.
For thirty-three years,
you stood there in full view
to so may sightseers
at Broad Street and Pattison Avenue.
South Philadelphia
was the site where you stood.
Sports memories were a plethora;
they were both bad and good.
To the Eagles you were home,
where there were many games of football.
From Franklin Field the birds would roam.
You also hosted baseball,
where the Phillies played many a game.
I have remembered it all.
Some players made the Hall of Fame.
You remain as pictures and imagery
because you no longer exist.
Your presence no one will ever see.
However, memories will persist.
In the summer months, Neuschwanstein Castle hosts six thousand visitors a day.
Mad King Ludwig II of Bavaria’s ghost cannot keep these sightseers away.
He does his best to make them feel uncomfortable, inserting sadness in each room.
However, he was never great at people skills. They do not feel a sense of gloom.
The fairytale king built this private sanctuary as a place to hide and lick his wounds.
He died in 1886, and his finished fourteen rooms became a gawker’s place to swoon.
Not in six months or a year. The survivors opened it quickly up to public view.
They were selling tickets and showing it in seven weeks to the likes of you.
Walt Disney was enamored by this charming castle. He immediately planned.
A similar dwelling named Sleeping Beauty Castle, now found in Disneyland.
If you go to Bavaria Germany, I am sure you’d better go to taunt King Ludwig’s ghost.
He will be furious, and try to scare you away. Shhh Don’t tell the ones who host.
My father raised roses from the very root
they grew in straight, taunt, magnificent shoots.
They stretched high determined to touch the sky’s very brink
in blooms of mammoth reds, whites, yellows and pinks.
They caught the eye with scented perfumed fragrance
that aroused the senses of every passers glance.
Long stemmed, petal laden tight budding beauties
that swayed rhythmically in the wind as if by duty.
Sightseers awed as nature’s bounty prevailed
and he pruned and tended them each day without fail.
They gave him both joy and pleasure,
a satisfaction he found nothing else could measure.
In his garden he kept his dreams in secret quiet solitude
strengthened by persistence and tenacity imbued.
In his heart lay some inner deeper beauty flowing
from the scented rose to a hidden unknowing
that would be forever him.
I went by the house today
so many years after he had passed away.
Everything was changed, not a rose or bush to spare,
and the garden - it was no longer there.
Only with my eyes tightly closed
could I see and recall the beauty of the rose.
The saying then is true for all women and men
you never can go home again.
Everything changes and passes into time,
for a moment, brief as it was, I saw it in my mind.
I saw him - just as I remembered, in his element, well and alive
tending each bud and blossom where he once thrived.
I wanted to embrace, wrap him close against my breast
but the vision was his and I was but a guest.
For you Pop, Dec.27th, 1983
Lake, Pond, and Kettle
The lake is glistening beneath the sun,
and paddle boats leave ripples in the light.
The sky above, a lovely turquoise blue
with fluffy cotton-candy clouds in sight.
Sightseers settle on the wooden porch;
from rocking chairs, survey the lovely views.
While others, by the pond of large Coy fish,
observe their colors and designs that fuse.
Inquisitive and friendly, on the hunt,
they swim around the center fountain spray;
come close to take bread from a waiting hand,
then flip their tails to 'round again, make way.
Inside the lodge, it's four o'clock...tea time;
and coffee too is served, if you're inclined.
From the huge copper kettle tea is poured,
and cookies wait with cream and lemon rind.
The 'tea at four' at Mohonk Mountain House
is one of many joys at this retreat's
amazing, peaceful settings to relax
with nature's beauty, tea, and cookie treats.
Sandra M. Haight
~1st Place~
Contest: Lake, Pond, Kettle
Sponsor: Nayda Ivette Negron
Rules: Use Words: Lake, Pond, Kettle
Judged: 05/17/2018
When everything starts going awry
No qualms in acceding to a special mortal, no matter how grouchy
All gospels on controlling sentiments go down the drain
Blessed and cursed simultaneously like an ounce of hydration in a desert of sand
Seemingly the only logical thing
Belies all the comments on being just a fling
No matter how much bereavement it brings
It is the least ransom one can afford in love from which sightseers cringe
Getting enraptured by it
Even on loosing precious moments one feels most fit
Hope sapped by the fact
As it doesn't seem right
Still unable to curb
Though one tries with might
Only consolation in prenominal testament
That the chosen one is in sight
Prays for divergence from feeling atrabilious
And to channelise energy for what is more precious
The cherry blossom over the Osaka River in Osaka city,
Keeps the castle overhead mesmerized in its beauty,
The pink and white blossom sparkle and shine on nice Spring Day,
Like the stars glowing from supernova in an explosive way.
The spring has heralded its arrival in a magnificent way,
The blossoms bend over to greet the sightseers in Japanese way,
Reflecting its beauty and majesty in the river,
The snow-covered mountains turning green in its wonder.
Cherry blossoms are so reflective and full of charms,
Romance and pleasure have been invoked forever in hearts,
The painting of woman in red and white kimonos picnicking in the park,
Blends the vision of the painter with nature’s most beautiful art.
In the nighttime, the castle is illuminated in nice colors in dark sky,
The cherry blossoms radiate their own heavenly charm in dark sky,
Songs of nightingale make her divine in moonlit night,
The onlookers hope that they would not lose such a beautiful sight.
Throngs of people view the beauty of blossoms, in sheer admiration,
So intricate, they can only be designed by God in heaven,
Butterflies drink its nectar,
Bees and hummingbirds spread its pollen to needy in nature.
On a spring rain, or a windy day, the blossoms depart,
They fall, leave the tree, signifying transience of good life,
The blossoms will be celebrated in dance and art,
I will wait till next spring, to see the cycle of rebirth in life.