Spring green decorates the hills
Down in the hollow where the creek flows
Wild azaleas and mountain laurel appeal
As spring a masterpiece gently shows
Once I was in my spring of life
Born, grew, developed, lived, love flowed
Years passed into summer being a wife
Then fall came, how my life slowed
Those autumn leaves swiftly fell flowing down
Their beautiful colors slowly turned into gold
Then so many shades and colors of trees' crown
What a story their descent to earth told
Bare skeletal oaks, poplar, sweet gum and dogwood
Each shape decorated the drab countryside
A longing once again for spring to come if it would
But alas the last spring has come, and can no longer abide
Mountain laurel perfume wafted in the soft breeze.
Myriads of flittering birds sang in the trees.
At peace on our cabin porch with feet on the rail
Until a trumpet blast called me to hit the trail.
When at last would come my soldier’s release
To return to our laurels, birds, and peace?
With the martial trumpet silent once more,
All survivors returned to their home shore.
Would I limp stiff legged down the last mile,
To laurels, and birds, and your peaceful smile?
Alas, but a dream that came not to pass.
My future lay beneath the clover grass.
Wrapped in red, white, and blue came my release,
To scentless laurels, silent birds and wailing peace.
Beautiful spring blooms
Decorate the light and dark
Essence of the heart
one would wonder where is this garden on the hill
unsighted from many searches, now I’m standing still
bewildered and weary I sat down on a log to rest
I know that I have given it my best.
this garden has no flowers or weeds to pull
nothing illuminates when the moon is full
the soil is crusted no rain touches down
I can only imagine an image on this ground.
perhaps I was dreaming about this garden
my heart once soft, now becomes harden
to lose my ideal garden will leave me with hurt
won’t carry this picture of useless dirt.
the scented ambiance and the colorful array of floral
was once thriving with mountain laurel
vividly within my mind is Ervin kneeling in jeans
tending to his garden, planting what true beauty means
White, like ice
still burns like fire
How beautiful it seems,
The flower bleeding poison
White Calla trumpets
Veratrum’s snowy star
Lacy mountain laurel
Bloodroot’s sweet slumber
Snow is white
White like so many
delicate blossoms
bringing untimely death
Death cold as the deepest winter
Pale, mimicking the ghostly petals
dipped in the white stain
of angel’s feathers
Sweet white slumber
soundless, still
just like the soft, innocent
bringer of death
Wrapped in frosted gowns
made of lethal fabric
Beautiful silence
The flower bleeding poison
A valley of flowers and season of spring
Base is green with colourful toppings
Coveted vibrant gems are dropping
Decorated board looks so alive
Evening dusky shadows arrive
Frame as fragile as a dream
Gardenia romania look supreme
Himalayan hills and hybrid hues
I hymn for this picturesque
Jasmine flora smell is raising
Knighthood piece of art amazing
Lotus petals where dew dwells
Mountain laurel and bluebells
Nothing can beat their persona
Orange marigold pink belladonna
Purple syringa forget-me-not
Queen of flowers rose red hot
Rain drop ink makes them scarlet
Sun rays develop them to starlet
Tulip triumph on blooming ride
Vivid as a newly wedding bride
Underneath clouds canopy beside
What an imaginary
Xerox created
Yellow daffodils
Zenith far and wide
Dated: 04/13/2016
Entered Contest : Spring Flowers (Abecedarian)
Sponsored by: Shadow Hamilton
The clouds drape low,
shrugging blue mountain shoulders,
melding with ghostly river mist
ascending in specterous vapor trails
salted with primordial tears.
Between stately mottled sycamores
and aged medicinal white oaks,
slippered phantom figures glide,
clad in hides of deer and mountain lion.
Down to the silvered stream--
a mirror for chalky spirits and bright stars--
they slip to drink of pristine springs.
The powerful spell impacts within, without,
invading every animated sense.
A dream, an apparition?
I wonder at the dawn of bright sun rising,
green moss clad boulders warmed, fog dissipated.
I discern the curious sensation
of withdrawing from an ancient trance.
The happy river dances down the valley,
bordered in mountain laurel ruffles, pink;
the fragrance of breakfast bacon wafts,
a tantalizing, hunger inducing wave,
and campers' laughter echoes off a dream.
Copyright, August 19, 2014
As man unravels the mysteries
Of God's creation some loose
Their awe of God's power
Seeing more instills within more
His omniscience, his love
Fills my heart and soul
I want to praise Him
For His love , His design
The purple mountain laurel
A feast to the eyes
Sunlight that filters through
The forest to nourish each thing
Cool purified running water
Plants, animals drink their fill
As I am filled with the awe
Once again of His love for all
You are so beautiful my love
So beautiful my dear said the moose
To the female moose so beautiful
God never ceases to awe me
White blossoms of the Mountain Laurel
Contrasted to the waxy green leaves
Nestled under trees along the creek
Showing some of the beauty of spring
Snuggled on a blanket close to the edge
Enjoying the music that nature makes
Chirping of birds, no no not a word said
Rustle of leaves, buzz, buzzing of bees
Babbble of creek, splash of the deer's feet
Joy, oh, joy for the outdoor cheer
Wishing that we could share this time
This time of the year
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