By my window, I stay and watch children play
I can hear their shouts of joy and hilarity.
Like tiger cubs, sometimes they fight,
Alerting the neighborhood to their noisy gaiety.
This scene has taken me back to my childhood.
As I move my hands through grooves of the past,
Before me opens, lovely vistas of happy days!
When such shadowy phantoms fill my brain
I yearn to be reborn once more a child.
As tiny kids, we ran down grassy slopes,
Looking for wild blooms and butterflies.
Ran up high hills to gather wild berries
Our carefree days, buoyant like bubbles.
Gone are those sweet times of frolic
With springing steps, wrapped in wonder~
Is it the death of verdant spring?
Or autumn’s ripe mellowing?
As a bygone sunset, the joy of childhood is gone.
Lost in tides of time. Will we ever get it back?
Childhood- a sweet gift, once and for all…
Sparks of mortal love,
Glowing embers eternal,
Mellowing embrace.....
his aurora eyes
melt into this heart's soft purr ~
mellowing meows ...
In the majestic mist—of a mountain’s dawn;
In the gray haze of fog, soon to move along.
Below smoky drifts, canopies, and the wind.
Below, the raven’s wings, and the perch he sits.
Bird’s eye view, gazing, gawking; blithely spying.
Yearnfully, yet, no eagerness for showing.
Mellowing caws; buoyant—wake the harvest moon,
Of streams and time, do not both cascade on by?
Frolicsome and flashing; a true sight to see,
To harken the lone wolf’s motley midday howl;
With these Great Smoky Mountains now cleared away—
The raven soars above; stately valleys low.
Humming a love song, atop love’s moonbeam,
our focus fixated on God alone,
we recognise earth life as but a dream.
Intuiting life’s not what it does seem,
heart the sanctum where we choose to atone,
humming a love song, atop love’s moonbeam.
With heart our fulcrum, high on self-esteem,
as breath by breath our consciousness we hone,
we recognise earth life as but a dream.
The seeds of joy planted, we now redeem,
seeking God realisation full blown,
humming a love song, atop love’s moonbeam.
Imbibing bliss of magnitude extreme,
gradually coming into our own,
we recognise earth life as but a dream.
With head and heart now working as a team,
slowing down life’s pace, mellowing our tone,
humming a love song, atop love’s moonbeam,
we recognise earth life as but a dream.
Lure of sunset quiets the soul
Mellowing hazed thoughts from day's work
Nothing but herbal tea clears mind
Oft not , caffeine- loaded Starbucks -
Peace wafts by brewing turmeric
Acebedarian Contest: sponsored by nette onclaus
June 12, 2025
Marigolds bloom for you,
Morning light breaking through,
Memories old, yet true,
Marking paths we've once crossed,
Majesty never lost,
Mirrors of love’s soft glow,
Mellowing hearts, we grow.
September Falls
Since the days of creation of seasons
Earth has witnessed the splendors of nature
Pervading time and space, for due reasons
That can be known but by the Creator;
Endless are the marvels of His creation:
Mellowing leaves do take flight in the air
Before kissing the ground of oblivion,
Eager to let others pursue the fare;
Recall the true cycle of human life:
Following birth in spring, men kiss the ground
As autumn wild winds whirl life in a strife
Leading each one anon to tumble down;
Let us respect the laws of the seasons
Since trespassing them is an illusion.
Whispers of Autumn
Whispers of wet winds on mellowing leaves
Herald coming of the autumn season,
Strip tress of their clothing, lead them to grieve
As swarms of swallows seek warmer regions.
The sky is oft spanned with gilded leaves in flight
Whirling with whispers of wild autumn winds
And coming to rest on the ground with fright
After their dance in the air with a swing.
Whispers of dry winds in autumn of life
Beckon grey hairs and wrinkles on the face,
Weather our strength as to tread we do strive
And as leaves, the ground we wish to embrace.
Whispers of autumn turn leaves yellowish
And curl human lives with season`s anguish.
In the gratifying embrace of the sun's glow
a delightful plight, a verdant tableau;
Where the blazing sovereign of light reigns
scattering, a gleam of kaleidoscopic refrains;
The sweet sounds of the dulcet birds
coercing me to summon these words;
the pulpy fruits with its mellowing taste
with an azure sky, so simple and chaste;
I wished more of these benign days
For I could enrapture my mind by I single gaze.
Twas' a mellowing twilight on the end of the day
Where the whispers of dusk benignly sway
when the weary traveler of orange bid adieu
varnishing the sky with amber and blue
As the shadows lengthen and daylight wanes
Couldn't endure enough of what my eye gains
The chaotic screams of the day departed at the dusk
The halcyon prevails with its demandless busk
So ended the beatific nightfall
an enrapturing memory I could forever recall.
Positivity breeds it graceful wings
Disseminating compassion, to all the lowly things.
'Tis as lustrous as the mellowing sun
delivering exuberance to everyone.
Yet there are shadows, lurking 'hind the good
A true bizarre, A malevolent hood.
But optimism overshadows the Agelasts
It ostracizes the demon, nurturing the outcasts
And so do I bleat, embrace Optimism's virtue
Promulgate saguinity to folks you come through.
The consummate scent of Earth's due decay
Subdues gently the fervor of Death's perennial
Parade, whose incumbent silences the withering leaves
Do so barely correct, by singing tremulous or crying to the choral winds.
But, as with an inspirited indifference, that incensed breeze yet swept
The consummate scent of Earth s due decay
Far from that secret tome whence mortal moments may,
As with grave strength from deepest wells of regret,
Be still distilled into that which, -despite bare Oblivion's
effortless sway-
Thus vivifies such frailty as whereby
The consummate scent of Earth's due decay
Has ever it's beauty in sanctity kept.
And does Death then yet impress a violence but so fair,
As with the mellowing maple leaf, or the ripening pear?
And who would prevent them that Death should repay?
Hence, the consummate scent of Earth's due decay.
Between the reaching shades of tall trees
copper-leafed hillocks’ catch fire,
ghost flames
burnish the slow stealth of evening.
A translucent straw-light
seen only through the thumb hole
of a painter’s pallet,
or in that late sunlit wash, that blooms
so openly that eyes miss it.
Redolent are the long shadows
dipped as they are in rich earthy scents.
The flaxen hay is layered between
timbered silhouettes,
where gossamer ribbons of vapor
hazes-over honeyed acers.
Softly a lambent buoyancy of evening
blends amber and russet wisps
with hues of sorrel and orange.
A mellowing sky drapes over the fields
a chiffon fan of muted rays.
The tawny straws turn slowly,
all unclear to daylight eyes,
but by this eventide
we will view this ebbing day
through a golden glass.
Sitting with steaming tea in hand,
Guaging the storm raging outside,
Splitting the sky is lightning grand,
Waging a war staging rain ride,
Bellowing thunder tears the sky,
Mellowing, her heart wears a sigh!
11.11.2022
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