Millpond Poems | Examples

An Attenuated Tree Branch

An attenuated tree branch reaches out to its drowning shadow in the inert millpond.

(23 Syllables)

Personification is a poetic device and not a poetic form, hence me labeling this 'prose poetry'.

The Sheltering - Ifl

Owl eyes break as dimming light worms about,
Hollow clap surrenders a sparked ribboning,
Escapees breakout from their misty cells,
Wakes of earthen prints puddling,
Harbored ills bade sanctuary,
A glassy millpond beholds the begotten,
Abrupt warming tempts the absence,
Stirred tea sweetly idling,
An archer colorfully tools the realm,
Directives wondering,
Vibrant life answering,
A stranger to loneliness,
...I felt like being alive.

A Canine Eloquence

Old Spice’ and wet grass carry years
of understanding between us.

If I break wind, you run to me,
body rapt and heeding,
every hair translating
a smudged paragraph into
volumes of memory.

Rubbernecking my attention
with a fixed gaze,
you are staring at my next question,
willing to
jaw with more whiffs of intimacy.
A jargon of us both
surfacing in her millpond eyes.

Silent odiferous idioms crest
upon her black nose,
a cloddish lingo,
but it outruns anything that could be said.

Dog Talk

‘Old Spice’ and wet grass carry years 
of understanding between us.
What I wear and you gather into you,
become a language neither of us know,
but comprehend in mouse-tracks of deduction.
 
You read grease and engine oil, as if grease and engine oil
were two parts of a book left out in the wet,
a chemical patois revealed by an inborn knowledge
of petroleum pipes, and the long-distance howls
of Alaskan wolves.
 
If I break wind, you run to me, body rapt and heeding,
every hair translating a smudged paragraph or two into
volumes of memory.
Rubbernecking my attention with a fixed gaze,
(No, Timmy has not fallen down an abandoned mine shaft),
you are just staring at my next question,
willing to jaw with more whiffs of intimacy.
 
Tales of muddy boots, the flash-fiction of urine trails,
(hers and her canine buddies, not mine),
the breezy gossip of each rabbit hole. 
A jargon of us both
surfacing in her millpond eyes,
idioms cresting now on her black nose,
a cloddish lingo,
but it outruns anything that could be said.

Quiver Beneath Lilac Skies

over by the millpond
atop the banks of leaden loam
a patch of flowers sparsely grow
ivory petals open wide
as they sip the morning dew
then dance within the quiver
of august's cooler winds
dropping petals
on the ground

i sit beneath the hues
of lilac horizon
remembering youthful hands
dropping petals
beneath whispers
of "he loves me"
"he loves me not"
as if every crush 
was the right one
for a mere child
who didn't even know
what love was yet

the years span before me
like the folds 
of endless horizon
as i blush
beneath the sun

august 27, 2019

Game and Gamer

Errant hounds capriciously bustle in an exceptional position near some forsaken backwatered millpond during some quietude noontime dismal conclusion concerning the game,

Per some dense overgrowth forward furnishes an exquisite refuge over the stalked moreover the superfluous breathing of one well-earned evanescent freedom comprise paid via the pursuers prevailing pattern during this auspicious consequence,

Preeminent preyed scampers incessantly before optimism regarding its autonomy of a choice pursuit that endures stirringly as an affirmed conclusion achieves its goal amidst a unique resonance due upon by a fatal singular blast.

In the end, the right to life and the right to survive is the name of the game.



Date: 08/27/2019

By the Millpond, Musing

Beside the millpond, musing,
Of another day and time—
At times my mind confusing 
Both reality, and rhyme.

It is an easy thing to do, you see,
With the buckets timely turn—
What is this thing called poetry,
What from it do we learn?

Seems with every splash, and breath of breeze,
Do my thoughts go out to play—
About the mill and stand of trees,
I can hear them smiling say:

Take leave of all unpleasant things,
Fling open daydream’s gate—
Think now of clouds; the swell of springs,
For the morrow, it will wait.

So I set my worries finally free,
To skip, and play, and roam—
By the millpond, just my thoughts and me,
As the water spilled to foam.

Then I put away the imagery;
The meter, and the rhyme—
Give no more thought to poetry,
Neither toil, task nor time!

Suddenly Swans

Torn sail blowing in a gale
sand beautifully shifting, dunes flowing 
spray from the edge of a wave
moments camera frozen, seen
snapshots of the mind
memories only you can find

Long-lasting bulls eye ripples grow on the millpond surface 
a momentary jumping fish creation
dissipating, gently lapping the hard rocky edge
Suddenly two swans water-ski in
paired parallel wakes created
disrupting reflected hills, sky and trees

tinged pink in gentle sunset breeze
good dry day promised by the sky
red western evenings never lie
High pressure, breeze slow & soft, a warm waft 
cloudless ocean deep blue skies
natures treasures for our eyes

The rocky path carries us
up towards the setting sun
warmth disappears to the western coast
we are no longer warm as toast
cooler air moving in, breeze going thin
light fades as we reach the pub
time for hospitality, beer and grub

At the Millpond

The millwheel will not turn again till spring
for Winter’s icy cold grip holds it firm.
She squeezes it like Her private plaything,
though Her crushing power is but short-term.

As shorter days subtly lengthened; the sun
slowly began to liquefy the ice. 
And the waterwheel shook, and almost spun, 
while the miller posted his asking price.

Whispers ran through the town from door to door,
the ice is breaking up at the millpond.
And housewives could soon buy flour once more,
for each village, and its mill shared a bond.

The millwheel shimmies free from Winter’s grip,
shuddering as the water level peaks.
And as pressure increases drip by drip,
the pond ice melts, and the wooden wheel creaks. 


(Quatrain)


6/26/2018

The Red Parasol

I remember the painting, with a heavy heart....I
remember my best friend Valerie, how we sat and talked.
which was beating the most my heart or the sun
as in the shade of my red parasol
memories of my lost love drench my thoughts.  
How we looked up at the golden cliffs
 when we walked the seashore.

the sea in all its glory like a millpond,
just rolling rippling waves as it hit the shore,
how I sat there with my dear friend from schooldays 
remembering those times long ago,...those
sunny days are etched into my soul. 

we sat on the cliff top with my red parasol 
shading my head and my heart,
consoling myself with thoughts, remembering 
the seaweed smell of the sea we had both loved,

life would be so wonderful I related to my friend 
if only.......!!!


Penned 22/6/2016

Contest. The Red Parasol

Millpond Daybreak

The dawn sky throws a spear of vivid red
lancing the fir treetops, but not yet me
with my bag of bread.
The wheel is still asleep, the water still,
seems today we all have time to kill.
Scan the surface with imagination's eye
waiting for Excalibur to rise,
but no- just an indifferent pair of Swans
gliding softly through the mist to Avalon.
Reverie broken,
canned laughter from the ducks
their squabbles shatter the mirror
Dragonfly tries to referee.
I look down and, for a split second,
see another me.
I wonder if he's happy

March 15th 2015

River of Life

Manassian Quintain

As we stroll through the river of life
As it meanders  on it's way
Crossing the pebble stones of strife
Watching the flow and ebb each day
Life like a knife cutting the rotten parts away

Life like the river it sometimes runs slow
Twisting and turning at every chance
Obstacles try to halt its flow.
Stormy winds can lead a merry dance
when tempers flow, it is all by chance

The water, so calm on a summers  day
Like the millpond of a perfect life
A tiny whisper of wind , kicking up spray
Like careless words, that causes strife
Let this happy day control the strife in your life

Penned 26 January 2015

Fishy Story - Gone Fishn Contest

Was a calm and uneventful day on  a family holiday  
what can we do next, how about taking that boat out to sea

We begged some sandwiches cans of coke to drink
Borrowing a fishing rod, off we went Into the brink.

Sea was like a millpond, for miles we could see
Had a pull on the rod once it was one that got away.

Must have been a foot long, I am sure when put to the test
It wasn't near that length was mere minion size at best

Was then we saw the dolphins swimming and playing happily
They naughtily caught up the rope and pulled us out to  sea,,

Round and round in circles swimming merrily
up we went  like a inning top and landed in an island tree

Time was going on a big row if we weren't home for tea
But how to get down was evading us and then as a surprise to me.

Along came King Neptune in his chariot  wearing a silly grin
Better get you home for tea, a row to spoil your hols would be a sin.

As Good As It Get's

On glorious, golden millpond we sit and speak no words
  The evensong is calling it beckons in the night, as wings take flight
  Silhouetted dancers forming on the water, causing softened ripples
  that gently rock our little wooden boat
  Still we sit in silence, as coldness chills our bones, the sun is going down
  I look into your eyes and smile, we very rarely frown
  The water that was crystal clear have turned a muddy brown
  So we gather in the oars as the ripples find a sudden strength and
  darkness shows a menace
  But we're rowing with conviction and a purpose in our minds and
  still we do not speak
  It's been a perfect day as we wind our way down stream, to the lighthouse
  we call home

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