Balmy summer air to southern climes doth repair
On horizon, blue azure panels shaded with smoky tincture
Silky, white fondue relpaced by pallid, silver hue
Fondling, summer breezes; gripping, autumnal wind freezes
Cooling waves react with fertile leaves; amber gown doth
retract
Nutrient-rich chlorophyll doth spill and sugary saps rill
Anon, doth ween a bright, colorful sheen
Golden crescents and cherry strobes with lobes iridescent
Rounded discs on Global Willow in creamy glaze mellow
Spiny-toothed, Red Oak leaves flossed with reddish-
green gloss
Sugar Maple stars bathed in a bright pumpkin lathe
Ovular Blue Beech blades are brushed with a brackish rust
Veins of Aspen heart umbrella bleed bright yellow
Pentagram lobes of Sweet Gum gilded with purple robes
After scintillating charade, garnished blades began to
fade
Leaves' life-giving juices the stout bough refuses
Nutritious store salvaging trunk doth score
The regal, shimmering gown now shriveling crown
A duller shade of brown on the crumpled folds redound
Last gasp, its withering anchor doth cast
Descending from mercurial splendor to mother natures
blender
August 21, 2012
Categories:
ovular, naturesummer, blue, summer,
Form: Enclosed Rhyme
across there in cold light
gazing to the passing scenes
sometimes a glance back, then
and see that I’m still staring
a striking mask, your thunderous youth
that sharp ridge of a Roman nose, so narrow
deeply fixed emerald and golden-rimmed
eyes of a shepherd at the wing
light upon an ovular range of beautiful planes
where fine skin on signatures raised
is colored the same soft red
aloft in the morning sun
and how the curve of your brow
slips to a gaunt cheek lifting
love in the stoop of those lips
cradling crescent shapes of a jaw
flexed for greatness
filing away each of your features
to a safe place inside
where a figurine of grace
will wait to be painted
Categories:
ovular, art,
Form: I do not know?
Silk smooth
words,
well-rounded,
sweet with
chocolate glaze;
gold and
easy
on the ear,
all in one
basket
counting
the
days.
Ovular syntax
rolling
on tongue,
luxuriant in a
speech bubble;
hairline cracks
form
on fragile shell,
a sense of
unease,
a sense
of
trouble.
What have I done?
relinquished
trust
to whatever line I
would swallow;
promises,
promises,
moulded then
broke,
every
Easter Egg
was
hollow...
Categories:
ovular, life, love, seasons,
Form: I do not know?