sunset on lily pad pond
look, I say look
basho and that frog
moss embraces stone walls
l
i l
a skylark sings over h s
warmth s e e p s into earth.
cascading
l l
i o
w w
w
e
e
p
s
beneath
frost-laced
velvet firmament
Flowing from the river of love, I watch you dance in beautiful strides...like rolling ripples in my heart, you come to me along the river side
A mirror of the vast wilderness,
you reflect a calmness dwelling deep inside, to appear with the rising sun, lingering with a twinkling of your eye
Of all the youthful dreams I hold...
For I am the poet and you are my soul
I gather all the wonderous gifts you provide
And forge within me a story of flight
Upon the the wilderness of gilded light
A moment arrives of great insight..
Alone together with you by my side
Written on April 14th 2025 for Mystic Rose Rose prompt Finish my Poem contest
Mystic Rose Roses’ two couplets
“As she drinks nectar from a flower, sweetness from heaven falls like dew
Anointed with a gentle rain amidst sun showers she appears as if on cue
Lifting her wings she lands on a Zinnia beneath a tinted sky of April blue
Flight of fancy fanning fast, fabulous marvel, she is beauty true
on true”
My two couplets
She dips where honeysuckle clings and rain has kissed the loam
Her wings cast iridescent light that drift like silver foam
The world beneath her arches close, seduced by wing and gleam
Each petal shivers in her wake, as if touched by a stream.
Why should I add another word
To words already spoke and heard.
Because to say, "The morning web was hung with light."
Is not to say,
"A spider gathered jewels today."
We all follow our destiny
A poet will write, what is right for thee
Whether chatterbox or Silent One
On our marks we are set
And follow fore ordained scripts
Since times beginning, begun
All birds shall take wing
Compelled to sing, twittering
To God as to Man
It matters not who
They sing their song to
For all will understand
Doorstep birds sing
Don't worry about a thing
Cause everything will all be alright
The sky will be blue
Under which nothing is new
And flocks will take graceful flight
Tall Skyscraper nests or
Empty Wilderness,
Audience of Man, beast, or none
Birds will be Birds
And Birds will sing
Until God turns out the sun.
Do poets always walk in the rain?
This poet once did
When she was but a kid.
The bathwater of summer drops
Cascading from suburban chimney tops,
Puddles on pavement
Begging for splashing,
A robin’s egg in the grass
All fractured and bashed-in.
The simple wonders
Of childhood
Are not so long gone.
Be mindful, you children
Don’t fail to hold on.
Dreaming of verdant meadows and amber acreage
flush on the banks of a dazzling blue lake's ridge
Jousting with villains for the hand of fair damsels
or expounding the writ close by the chancel
Forsooth, verily, indeed and indubitably
though others kvetch and moan lugubriously
Verily, forsooth, by my troth and a tad convolutedly
I've plied my trade unfailingly jubilantly
Always meant to be a poet from the age of nine
~ crafting dainty vials of nectar with zesty grape wine
Twirling leaves of gold and brown
surrender humbly to death's round.
Summer memories autumns drown,
while whistling winds in woods resound.
Squirrels scurry in hunt profound.
A morning's mist rises from damp ground,
early cold in a frosty gown,
covers geraniums with wet crowns.
What a season of keen renown
for poets are moved to greatly expound,
sitting by fires peacefully unwound
as autumn’s beauty their words propound.
10/3/2022
In different forests,
there live poets...
They are trees, they are plants...
Some are full of fruits,
others full of thorns,
some offer shadows,
others just haunt...
Just as in real life...!
Oh, you know it when will you find it!
You smell it, and it carries a very special message
Just for you.
That empowers you in conversation,
Taking you to write with beauty of
other people and places.
It sings of tall trees, birds and rushing
waters.
It whispers to you that you are God’s
son or daughter.
It is nature’s most divine alchemy.
Reminding poets that they are sisters
and brothers of the stars and the seas!
4-4-2022
Raindrops falling on windowpane
cloudy grey sky with lightning vein
Upon close look, a lilac hue
and tiny pockets found of blue
Rainy days tempt poets to write
of roses in bloom, stars at night;
of golden leaves as Autumn fades,
or shadows found in dappled shades
Dawn that breaks with pure golden skies,
adds crimson touch as a surprise.
deepened sunset paints scarlet hues,
touch of iris in purple-blues.
Nature's watercolor pages
filled with poems for the ages--
words that poets find to capture
nature's most glorious rapture.
Nature
April 1, 2022
form L-LAY New Poetry Contest
by Constance La France
How Many Syllables.com
FIRST PLACE!
Far away over meadows, fields and hills
Or through oak woodland which is ever sweet;
Seeking out Wordsworth's golden daffodils.
Early morning, amid the dewy chills
Where a dawn kissed grassland moistens the feet
Far away over meadows, fields and hills.
A perfumed carpet your raw sense it fills
A yellow trumpeted aspect replete
Seeking out Wordsworth's golden daffodils.
And by the noon, as mid-day sunlight spills,
I wander onward down a floral street
Far away over meadows, fields and hills.
By farmstead ruins and old water mills
Where sheep now dwell and brightly bleat and eat,
Seeking out Wordsworth's golden daffodils.
So, the land where the poet whet his skills
I walk at springtime in nature's elite.
Far away over meadows, fields and hills
Seeking out Wordsworth's golden daffodils.
Alan S Jeeves
a poetic heart ~
isolated and unique
as a Baikal Dzen
2 January 2021
________________________________________________________
BAIKAL DZEN/ZEN
The rings are caused by warm, circular currents of water under the ice, called eddies. The eddies' strong currents melt the ice at the edge, but weaker ones keep the centre frozen.
Lake Baikal in Serbia, Russia, is the deepest freshwater lake on earth. Another phenomenon is the quantity of methane gas emissions -- the bubbles make for some stunning photo shoots.
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