No soul left
The butter tin empty
White bread crumbles
The dust feeds me well.
Tents, and tents
Rows of lost dreams
White picket fence
Gone, and gone.
We know it's too late
A sky of swampy marshes
Rain from the acid
My flag drapes over me, cold.
We are children, grandparents
We are mothers and fathers
We are lost in diamond dirt.
My flag loves me with it's stars
When I die under the bloody stripes
When I am born under its navy Eye.
Hush, the bleak night is awake
Hush, this milk is all I have
Hush, they cannot hear you.
A galaxy of pearls, dancing above
But they are not for you and I.
Beaming sculpture whittled by awning clouds over blue sea
Ethereal beauty tinged in brown, green and yellow shea
Aerial bliss, flaunting on leaves-sunkissed
Under and over my wings, I breathe your scented mist
Talons I sprawl, your branches I grip
Yonder sanctuary, your soothing shield I trip
Amongst beauties of nature, your heights majestic
Narwhals of blue seas, unicorns of Atlantic
Dying depths of roots underlying masses so cryptic
Marshes of hidden paradise, your abode of beauty
Attached is madness of ethnic humanity
Desecrating pristine ages of dreamt forest
Nesting on mantels, burning unrest
Eaves of succulent leaves, carved barks and branches
Streaming on saps and man's cold blood
Sweet and sour blend of beauty and madness
aristocratic antelope alarms and annoys
blue-eyed baboon’s billy goat buster
causing confusion, consternation and crying
distressing and disturbing deliberate donkey
egg-producing egret elevates enthusiasm
forever frolicking in farmer fred’s pastures
giddy goats gallop in garnished with garlands
happy horse henry hypnotizes henrietta’s hens
intense iguana ignores idiocy of inmates
jackals justify jack rabbits jelly-like jeers
kangaroo keenly kicks off kingly kibitz
luxurious llamas lollygag in the lounge
mischievous monkeys march among marshes
nervous newts nibble on nutty Nutella
obnoxious oxen opts out of outrageous opportunities
preening peacock praises his pompous president
quivering quail questions quaking quasar
rustic rooster ruffles robin’s restlessness
sassy songbirds swizzle and sway toward sand beach
talkative turtle trains tarantula to twist and turn
understudy Ulysses utilizes universal unitedness
validating vocabulary of vicious vultures
wandering weasel wants to find his wishes
‘xacting ‘xtra ‘xhibitions ‘xperiment on eagle’s nest
yellow yak yawns next to yipping young wolf dog
zealous zebra zips into view of aristocratic antelope
When choosing a Solar System for your Earth,
Please keep this in mind:
Star size and color will determine where the planetary placement is most
optimal. Commonly known as "The Green Zone."
One moon, or two?
Earth size one, two, or three.
Class A, B, or C to Z.
Gas requirements for breathable Atmosphere.
Life span and spin. Degree of magmatism.
Oceans, mountains, continents.
Lakes, deserts, fountains of youth (first ones free), volcanos.
Marshes, rivers, trenches, whatever desired.
TIME zones, climate zones, anything-goes zones.
Magnetic poles, hot, warm, or cold, colorful dirt and/or sand.
And last but not least: Inhabitants. (provided only by request).
She whispers, ‘Stay’
yet I find myself heading toward the bay
I start with a hike though the woods
if only the way I knew I could
And then the marshes to soak my feet
I’m on my way to a divine treat
And then there is the entrance to the bay
So little time to release what I have to say
To immerse myself up to my neck
In cooling waters, oh what the heck
It’s late at night and I see the stars
Will they wish me goodbye so near or far
I hold glimpse to the waxing moon
My spiritual turnover is coming soon
Will she miss me my darling love
We were soulmates attached from above
I hear the ghostly fisherman’s bell
And now it’s time for me to go to hell
Don’t cry for me today
It was just an outing to the bay
Now you breath and feel the breeze
Yet time marshes
you may freeze
Shes a woman, a mother, a sheroine, a phenomenal view to life, based in the deepest marshes and swamps of Africa. One unescappable piece of Gods artifact, a being soo difinite and adorrable...
Her courageous persistence to her motherhood, waterring seed of hope to every unstained blood. With her undivided attention to the well being of her children, life arouse optomesticly to where Africa is heading to just because she's a woman...
Her unartificial love, soo nature defined for God took his time. "She" a pronoun unwavering, holding enermous weight of what caring means. Her divine tender, unconditionally unleashed to minds and hearts soo deserving just because its a woman.
Aroma and its gracious curves
Nepenthe of marshes is still a curse
Observe the birds passing by
When love is too loud, and lurid,
it languishes in lewd, lusty lakes.
When love is silent, and steadfast,
it sings sweetly with soft waves on sea shores.
When love is motionless and mute,
it meanders to black mold and makes miserable, monotonous marshes.
So let me
love thee silently, softly,
with actions,
with adjectives and valiant verbs.
Saying I love you with
kind kisses,
empathetic embraces,
tender touches,
longing looks,
weary work, and
tedious tasks.
An underwater silence full of
graceful gestures and
mysterious moves…
…letting love lead, and last a lifetime.
Kiawah's sun dips,
Marshes blush in soft pastels,
Spring whispers low.
Egrets dance in twilight's grace,
Day ends in a gentle sigh.
Marshy, muddy, like the alluvial soil after rains
Slippery, clutching, quaking, and giving way underfoot
Pulling the solitary wayfarers with vein-nerve strains
Pets and cattle, as though sailing on sinking boats, get hooked.
Is human kinship as smooth as rolling on fresh flowers?
Amidst love, laughter, and unbridled joy and fulfillment
Like seasons change from sunny summer to monsoon showers
Don't relationships bring in quagmires of self-concealment?
Under the seemingly muddy water of emotions
When headaches and heartaches dare to abide with happiness
Within opens notions of communication erosions.
Grass blades hiding the messy marshes lead to fussiness.
Ponder! Meditate! Contemplate! Walk in a Zen rhythm!
Quagmire says, Beware of the existential vacuum.
Fishing Holiday
A kingfisher sitting on the old harbour wall
Listening to the geese from the mud flats call
I'm here for some sea fishing until after the thaw
Braced against the north wind so cold and raw
No Kamikaze diving into a frozen pond
The quickest route through to a life beyond
I need to cut a hole to fish with rod and line
To catch minnows like an Eskimo for my tea time
A sound of crunching from the lake what can it be
I fly over the marsh to take a look and see
Two swans are on the salt lagoon a winter wonderland
I watch from the sluice gate where the water is damned
The leaders pushing through the thick sea ice
Slowly inching forward, heroic self-sacrifice
Jet propulsion is required, web feet redesigned
Whilst tail end Charlie swims serenely behind
The Buntings skating through the reeds ask me to stay
But I've frost bitten feathers and don't want to play
The brochure promised beaches and sunshine every day
I am flying further south for my next Seaside holiday
Keyhaven Marshes, 17th January 2023
I'll take you on a floatplane ride
I know some quiet lakes
We'll land and in the marshes hide
Drift where the current takes
We'll moor along the shoreline
I'll provide the gear
We'll set up camp then light a fire
And spend the evening here
We'll talk until the sun goes down
Then snuggle in the tent
The great outdoors gets cold real quick
Once the day is spent
But that's ok, the night is long
We'll find something to do
Inside the sleeping blanket
Alone, just me and you
At sunrise I'll get up and make
Fresh coffee, piping hot
Then go and catch our breakfast
And cook it on the spot
I'll wake you with a gentle kiss
While whispering your name
And when those blue eyes open
I'll kiss you once again
Come out now, all's prepared for you
A feast made for my queen
All done to perfection
A picture perfect scene
Then when the morning slips into
The early afternoon
I'll pack the gear and load the plane
And one last time I'll swoon
My little dove, I'll shower you
With kisses from my heart
And right before we take off,
Once more,
Then we'll depart
"Even in a small space you can mimic a magical flowering
woodland with stepping stones and a variety of wildflowers."
Quote by _Constance
Willow Amsonia (Blue-Dogbane) is a wildflower_
In sun with some shade it will flourish, the
lush green fountain-like foliage so pretty, it
looks great as a background plant in a garden.
Oh, the flower clusters are dainty and divine,
with sweet blueish-purple blooms like stars !
And bushy clumps could be yours in a few years, wild in
meadows, just growing happy and free, and also
so delightful in marshes where the soil is wet, delightful
on Fall days when the foliage turns a sublime yellow. They are
never, ever, never bothered by insects of any kind,
in Spring they bloom- remove the withered ones for more blooms_
A lovely addition to any wildflower garden, in my opinion !
________________________
May 31, 2023
Poetry/Acrostic/Willow Amsonia
Copyright Protected, ID 05-1551-052-31
All Rights Reserved, 2023,Constance La France
I walked through the forest
or perhaps a small batch of trees
to find the creek
I waded into with my clothes on
and my shoes off
to find nothing but chin high water and stars
The water was cold and before long
I was shivering yet I kept my gaze
above to the stars, planets and the waning moon
This would be my end
my transition to the other side
filled with demons, hellfire and eternal pain
My pain and sorrow is too much
so I put my head beneath the water
and challenged myself to take a breath
But I couldn't do it
I climbed out back onto the marshes
Drenching wet, smelling like the ocean
And I began my walk back home
in the middle of the night where the stars
did nothing but laugh and mock me
It's okay
I'm stronger now
and I won't let the demons take me back to that creek
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