The oxide earth vapours, the vernal air trembles
A dirty white sky overhangs in your glasses
Viridian green tints the water, it shambles
The exuberant stems of the lilies and grasses
Like women with oars punt in David Brayne's pictures
My senses are floating through waters in bloom
No exaggerations in landscape are featured
No lyrical effects, but seasonal gloom
Filled with presentiment of evidential
I thought to smile, but in fact, didn't dare
In swinging of oars there is something essential
And something is missable, as if you care.
Categories:
overhangs, feelings, introspection, spring,
Form: Rhyme
How romantic, the fall, so far above the pleading waves.
The heights, the depth, to look the deep in eye and weep.
Air space between the lovers’ arc and shallow graves.
The tangible singsong of wedding bells and tragic leap.
Imagine it, the harp-like spray, the call of gulls, the fangs
that scared it up - the fade of white, of pearls and lace.
The cleft, the crags, the foaming ebb and flow, the overhangs,
the rage and misery one cursèd night, of love’s erase.
Romantic and tragic body of sea, a bride set free.
for she’d not live eternity of blood, thus spills her own.
He has no heart, but tears. Before his fate - a honeybee.
The heaviness of weight, the sea frothing with moans.
The scene has wings that fly and dive and sweetly catch
the widower’s debris. Invisible, the flight of ghostly light.
From precipice, how many tears do claw and scratch…
Hell laughs, but jealous witch wished bride to be first bite.
Categories:
overhangs, halloween,
Form: Rhyme
Climbing
Deliberately he climbs
twisted thread in hand,
underneath his narrow frame
the warm water breathes warnings
of free fall arrests,
amongst tentative overhangs
and twisted limbs
he stills himself.
Lost in instruction
he climbs until the air thins
and self-confessed
lines of communication with his anchor fray,
antediluvian tension
burns his cold palms.
Below the audible
anchored to hope,
petrified rope in hand
his twin waits
memory raw from extended grip,
the chance to protect a safe decline,
as distant now as then
Categories:
overhangs, allusion, childhood, endurance,
Form: Free verse
Thinking of dew in the mornings
Something cool with the rising African sun
In the shaded places by cliff overhangs and taller trees
The blades of grass, so many leaves, are bathing
And swimming with joy ...
And the sun comes with towels, as it were,
And before long, all green will be dry and hot –
A far cry from the refreshing mornings I have known
This morning I imagined life at the farm we "lost"
NOTE: all is well; shalom, shalom. Tell someone God is GOOD!
Categories:
overhangs, africa, appreciation, creation, extended
Form: Bio
Morning like evening gallows
casts eerie ominous shadows
slip sliding deep in the hallows
in along the walkway shallows.;
Inching in an out
below the overhangs stout
with fallen leaves and dopplegangs
where bent brittle branches hang
browned in amber reds and orange blood fangs.
The autumn rituals now begun,
a league of summer encounters brung
fallen by the wayside all spring undone;
cooled quick by early September breeze
brushed and chilled by a winter sneeze.
Blue skies fade to racing gray white squalls
whisked away by a seafarer's omen call
of forewarned storms and thunderous roars
of wind swept waves and sand beaten shores.
Here it comes, brisk in the air, the wind and rain,
retribution for the ultimate sin of unforgiving pain,
tornadic spins, relentless rains, the hurricane,
morning like evening, never the same again.
Categories:
overhangs, bereavement, earth, environment, hurt,
Form: Rhyme
Saturday Downtown
A sister and brother walking downtown, shops and shows and trolleys; smells of dimestore popcorn, caramel apples, warm nuts, candies, lunch counters, blue plate specials.
Sheltered beneath the overhangs and awnings, they, sister and brother cling, walking cautiously, as if to touch a stranger might bruise and hurt; he, weak, sickly, leans on her, she supports him, with body, both arms, both hands.
He's in a cheap pair of dark gabardines, a white starched cotton shirt stained here and there with rust; she's in a stiff dark dirty skirt, white blouse, funny little hat; both down at the heel.
Handsome though, but for the fear apparent on their face, the fear of touching, being touched, of being seen so pained, so poor; of not being seen at all.
2006 July 14
Categories:
overhangs, nostalgia,
Form: Prose Poetry
The ground is chained in frozen iron
Snow crystals glued on pine cones
Overhangs embroideries of polished ice
The wind shakes and shatters them into millions of pieces
Slowly more brightness toward longer days
A new light is born across a white landscape
With its beauty and bliss a squirrel in a pine tree
Thoughts and reflections how beautiful it is
04.02.2016
A-L Andresen :)
Categories:
overhangs, beauty, february,
Form: Free verse
An old photograph sits stuffed in an unlikely corner
of a forgotten book, tucked away in plain sight,
but with none to read it -
none who care to.
The book highlights rules, orders,
guidelines that put the reader to sleep.
The picture highlights a bygone era,
black and white the norm.
A dapper gentleman appears, smirking,
wearing the same uniform as I -
and yet his seems to speak more volume,
crisp on his photogenic frame.
A lovely dame has her arm through his,
smiling as wide as can be -
I can only surmise the joy they found
all those years ago.
A tree overhangs them in the background,
looking for all the world like it was there
for the express purpose of this held memory;
picturesque doesn't scratch the surface.
On the other side, another photograph:
this one of the same man, in different clothes.
A flight jacket, goggles, and khaki pants,
posed outside a bird's open cockpit.
Both photographs beckon through the keyhole,
for the viewer to glimpse through to antiquity;
gently they're placed back in their place of rest,
for another on duty to catch that fleeting glance.
Categories:
overhangs, cool, image, remember,
Form: Free verse
It's the weirdest feeling.
You know?
Being here, in my lonesome room outlined with a soft glow that I'd like to call Salvation.
But at the same time,
There is another outlining glow.
But it's not in my room; or around it even.
It's right across the hall.
A ball of light that always seems to bounce around with delight as long as my house confines it.
This light has made my days so much better.
I have calmed.
I have claimed.
And I have comprehended.
Let it be for the best.
For I now know where I stand upon the overhangs of the wondrous hills in my dreams and in my world alone.
You have the parts of life where the most faithful butterfly comes along and kisses you on the cheek.
And those.
Are the best times of your life.
Categories:
overhangs,
Form: I do not know?
Life like from a fish bowl, really!
Way ... encapsulated like above and behind, you know?
All those like gilded dado's of peachy-pink, gnarly puff, sweet aye?
All those awesome totally rad houses of
flannel-gray San Fran's Victorian Ladies, classic!
Life all sweet and wrapped in the ledges and overhangs, really!
Portcullis like totally frail, precious, half formed, clueless babes.
Really, half the town is like crazed!
Full of what-evers and dandy duds like newborns
each Lilliputian pop-up a sweet meat, smoked
stoked and toked inside their saccharin selves.
Life's a gay and grodie array of colorful buggers.
A,gag me with a spoon, side show of hard candy colored covers.
Really, like jujubes shaken from raspberry doors...
So take a chill pill, a coffee toffee, a licorice bit, a vanilla sucker
and get your most excellent self
with your killer looks and like surprisingly soft center
to sweet Ole San Francisco's scene.
*internal line rhyme [not end rhyme ;)]
** 1980's Cal i forn i a English
Contest: Talk Like That
Sponsor:Craig Cornish
Poet: Debbie Guzzi
Categories:
overhangs, funny, history, satire, sweet,
Form: Verse
Life from a fish bowl
encapsulated ..above and
behind the gilded dado's of peachy pink
and flannel-gray of San Fran's
Victorian Ladies
Life wrapped with the ledges and overhangs
and portcullis , frail, precious, half formed,
half crazed, oft newly born
each Lilliputian presence a sweet meat
inside their saccharin selves.
Life dawns, as a colorful array
of hard candy colored covers
shake forth from raspberry doors...
coffee toffee
liquorice bits
vanilla suckers
all with their surprisingly soft centers
to sweeten San Francisco's scene.
Categories:
overhangs, art,
Form: Free verse
Hurriedly, silently, in purposeful fluid movements
and long, determined strides, he dashed among
the thickets, bending and darting amidst the vines
searching for a perfect little place to stay and hide.
Stealthily and noiselessly he slithered underneath
lush, leafy overhangs shielding him from the sun -
keen, cautious, like a crouching, hungry predator
anxious not to draw unwanted attention to himself.
The birds on treetops hushed their singing in haste
as the woods turned suddenly still - frozen in place,
shocked, stunned and unprepared to bear witness
to the mysterious man’s strange, diabolical scheme.
He threw a quick look to his left and another to the right
then jerked, turning his head around to make doubly sure
that no human soul finds him in this quiet, secluded place
about to carry out his dark, sinister and unplanned crime.
Taking a deep, measured breath and now totally reassured
of being truly alone, away from prying eyes to a gory crime,
in his madness he violently yanked down his old Levi jeans,
squatted to the ground, grimacing, and…ahh, sweet release!
Categories:
overhangs, funny, mystery
Form: Dramatic Verse