When the light begins to early fade
In the rolled up air of Winter
And the Black Sun sits for hours
On the cold bedroom floor
We know for sure still
That Nature’s circle will come round again
To comfort us with a new sun
To fill the celestial dome above
And the tomb under Cavalry’s hill
In the dry eyed hill of winter’s altar
Reflected in sacrificing eyes
Even if the stars have begun to melt away
In the warming morning light
On the thawing Tuscan stream
We can wish them back into being
And hear Nature’s singing again
In the simple hope of Spring
You got me to a bower of mulberry blue,
And made me stick to it like with a glue,
You gave me the joy of expressing the self,
And filled with the books of joy - My shelf.
When I write you I feel I am in heaven,
And I won't be harmed even by the black raven,
You gave me joy and made me pine,
For writing you and craving for you time and again-
Like a glass jar of sweet red wine.
If cherry blossoms were hope
Gathered in a fragrant offering
To restore faith
We may restore our cherished dreams
As pretty as blossoms are to behold
With ponders of sweet Thoughts
Of things to come.
I was a land that was steeper
I became an ocean that was deeper
The waves in me were silent
And the view around was grimmer
The Moon wasn't there
Everything looked gloomy and in despair
Where was that shine I used to have?
Or it wasn't a shine but a betrayal
When all is lost, something you get
It's a wonder, and now I don't regret
It's when you dived in
The tides became gushing
You pulled me out from there,
To the shore that was never far but so near
Was it you who found me or was it me who found you,
doesn't matter because we are together now
On the shore, we are standing now,
The sun is shining with colors of wow
The only thing I want till the end
is your side by my side and your hand in my hand
Can I tell you a secret?
Every generation thinks their time is the last greatest struggle
and that their struggle will be the end of everything.
Every generation has its precipice and must choose whether to commit suicide or to survive and go on.
The more skittish men look up and panic! They scream, "THE SKY IS FALLING! WE SHALL ALL PERISH!"
Others that look at the world with more optimistic eyes say 'NO! If we all raise our hands together, we can raise the sky and keep it up above our heads! Tomorrow will come if we try!"
Others who truly know in their hearts that all is lost keep their peace and stay silent.
But the wise look on at all of this chaos and smile. They say, "Wow! I wonder what new sky lies beneath this old one? It must hold much splendor, for why else would it crack and fall?
Let us welcome what is being born over our heads.
Let us bear down and survive this falling, and when the chaos again subsides,
join hands and sing together under a brilliant new sky,
in a new time."
Splintered gold carpets the ground at her naked
feet. Stars spat from skies above crashing
down to carve out craters in the earth, barren.
She crunches memories once perfect between
her toes - the past squelching-squashing
in meadows bogged with rain and night-time tears.
His ashes, once held in an urn, float
now over a field, let out to pasture. The vase
cracked by her own hand, a widowed hand
grieving. It is said she walks under the moon
searching for those broken pieces. Grasping at
grass. Anything to meld his mosaic back together,
her palms the kiln moulding him into a frame,
a skeleton of pottery.
The winds blow lightly in the silence,
It's raining with sad leaves in quiet tears,
Lost rays dream of light, hot impatience,
Upper tired branches slowly break their fears.
It's autumn. Hopes are dashed in the dark fog,
Colors fade, and the pink flowers die,
The moonlight disappears in choking smog,
I began to roar, I began to cry,
I choose to sing together with the wind,
To cry with the golden leaves through the rain,
To embrace a ray of light, to be kind,
To feel the great sadness and flower's pain.
It's autumn, from her wealth of hopes we reap,
A new time to laugh, a new time to weep.
Sunlit clouds,
tapestries of vapor,
fill the void.
Summer nights,
moments I savor,
my mind toyed.
To be lost again,
in the winter brr,
all green destroyed.
But through summer's death
and winter's breath
Spring fields expand their breadth.
Watch the garden grow, the flowers bloom,
the trees sparkle, laden in pink blossom.
The dew dropped grass, the clear, sunny morns,
Hear the nightingale's beautiful, spring call.
Sunscreen at the ready, sand baked between toes.
Sandals, bikinis, hats sprawled upon the beach.
Dipping in the icy sea, a kayak through the caves.
Surfing at sunrise then fishing for a fry up.
The whisp of autumn's breeze, a flurry of orange.
Crunching leaves in wellys, hunting for chestnuts.
Sunsets dazzling their natural firework display,
Over fields of corn, soon harvested and rolled.
Sniffles in the cold wind, hankies at the ready.
Nights spent cuddled by the log fire in pjs.
Families unite to play indoors on colder nights,
singing songs to mark the turning of new year.
05.09.2020
This thirsty ground with a barren view,
Once cooked to a blistering dance,
It baptized all the life with heat,
Cooking the grass, shrubs and plants,
Until the farmer, in his old leather boots,
Walked, throughout spring, to the fight,
Armed with nothing but hope and a spade,
Tube natives he sowed every night,
From Swampy She Oaks to Lanky Buttons,
Hopbush to Silky Sawn Pea,
He covered the hills over two years of work,
Covered in magnificent trees,
Til now, five years later, in our beautiful drought,
Life flourishes over the hills,
And the birds, bats, possums and quolls returned,
To the ground that no longer kills.
I came upon him suddenly,
as he paid me no mind.
I mistook him for a humming-bird
of a very different kind.
He was drinking long and deeply
from a flower in my garden.
I gazed at him so raptly
that I should have begged his pardon.
Sated on the delicacy
from which he had been sipping,
he flew from the friendly feed bag
without bothering with tipping.
I was still stunned at the wonder
of the mystery I’d seen
I went inside to Google humming birds
on my helpful computer screen.
There he is in living color,
the picture of the one I saw.
Not a bird, he's a humming bird moth,
I could only gaze at him with awe.
Hemaris thysbe.....his nomenclature,
olive color with red tummy band.
Why I didn’t know he existed
is hard for me to understand.
Now that I am primed with knowledge
I do hope we meet again.
He is only seen on sunny days.
Where does he shelter from the rain?
I’ll know him next time when I see him
and I will be more polite.
I’m planting flowers I think he’ll favor.
He will be welcome day or night.
By: Joyce Johnson
For Gail Doyle's contest "A butterfly's Trail of Kisses." ( I hope a beautiful moth qualifies)
I walk in the garden with the Lord alone
and feel his great love, everlasting and true
with compassion and grace, He calls me His own
my Savior, my Refuge, in Him I am new
I admire the garden, the beauty within
the hope of eternity, freedom from sin
the birds fall silent, hearing His song of love
my time in the garden, like hope from a dove
TEN lines max,any theme/form contest (Brian Strand)
Honorable Mention
I came to the beach, for a little sunshine
I came to the beach, for a little sunshine
But you slunk through the shadows, and into my mind
I look out to sea, to try and find peace
I look out to sea, to try and find peace
But I’m still tethered to you, like a mutt on a leash
Memories of us, erupt like ‘bing’ hits
Memories of us, erupt like ‘bing’ hits
I want to forget, our beach wedding bliss
So I lie on my back, and stare up at the sky
So I lie on my back, and stare up at the sky
Detesting you, and your new Barbie wife
Knots of you form, inside of my stomach
Knots of you form, inside of my stomach
I try to undo them, but my fortitude plummets
I hope that in time, I’ll be able to swim
I hope that in time, I’ll be able to swim
And my memories of you, will pour from my limbs
***based on typical blues music, where the first line is repeated and the third line is a "holler"/answer (rhyme scheme AAB)
The fog hung
over
the forest
a small black
bird flies out af a bush
grey mist
over the
forest and the
valley
weary travelers
walk silently in
the gloom
Breathe in the air
there's a tinge
of cold
leaves are
stirred by the
wind
near the
forest is a dark castle
Will we find hope
and sustenance
there?
eyes peer out
through the shadows
we still hope
so we
enter the
edifice
and before long our fate is sealed
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