I sigh, remembering moments in time
Enjoying life in my younger years, just being a child.
I remember times living out in the country,
Surrounded by rows of young plants emerging from loose soil
And orange tree groves around our home.
I loved to sit or climb on their cool, dense, shaded limbs,
Extending and bending out like roots in the sky.
Temptation never failed to pull, peel, and enjoy the sweet, juicy oranges.
Or wash a freshly green top, an orange crisp carrot pulled from the soil.
The sun-glowing sea slowly moved toward the horizon,
Disappearing into the deep blues of the evening and the twilight hours.
A delightful flurry of fireflies would appear.
They drifted, glowing, an ethereal presence
With a delicate, rhythmic wing motion that made them appear
To float and twinkle among the foliage in the night,
Landing and perching among the foliage or on the ground.
I would run out into the high grass, in joyous excitement,
With a glass jar in hand to chase a whimsical scene.
I loved the feeling of joy watching them glow in flashes up close.
Over the years, looking across the tables at you
ambiance may change
meals range from simple
to aromas meandering tropical islands
roaming ports of call in far-off lands
the little Diner of long ago
caught in a torrential downpour
afterwards the petrichor aura
riding home with you
there remains that infrangible moment
when your tableware searches for another morsel
caught up in a moment intent
looking up, your eyes meet mine
a Duchenne smile adorned by doves perching
upon the Cupid's bow you wear
the moment i am reminded
reaching across the table
the oxytocin in touching your hand
rainbows are forever
Eugene 8/25/26
Like a murmuration,
they suddenly appear,
swirl, swoop and storm the
ancient, familiar compound,
perching on the strongest bough
of the school’s pine tree,
a brawny Methuselah,
chattering loosely about long-departed
waves of creamy city gossip, and asking one another,
“How do you do?”
When the clock ticks a little further down
the aisle of a wailing theatre,
“And how have you been?”
At the time of the greedy feasting —
hollow, glass-tinkling buffet,
“And where are you now?”
Just like in a romance —
Your ex-lover is that person you’re curious about his
or her present life.
Your present lover is that person you’re curious about his
or her past life.
So it is with school reunions.
O greenish blue neighbour of mine
across my kitchen window, sunning in shine
perching very high on the doctor's house fig tree
resonating your tunk...tunk louder than metronomic glee
Saw you today, puffing your yellow throat,
the silk floss petals plucking with your hand glove
bobbing your red head and flicking bluish tail,
have you tracked a sincere mate?
have you picked a red berry or two for your consort,
hope allopreening is not building on snort?
what about fluttering your blue grey black wings side by side ?
start a "Beak Game" in a full stride?
Keep flight straight, with rapid flaps
Be away from that, extortionist Blue-throated barbet
avoid flying klepto red-vented songbird,
eyeing at your red berries and burd.
PS:A coppersmith (barbet) , very old next tree neighbour, annoying sometimes by her incessant calls ,many times reminds me that that is how a life goes on
“Snowflakes are winter’s butterflies.” – Unknown
Winter is not always bitter, lifeless and drab
Snow gleams as it blankets and caresses nature
Birds become a vibrant display in reds and blues
A Blue Jay squawks as a cardinal stands ground
Perched on shimmery branches and bird feeders
As their songs warm frigid air with joyous melodies
Trees sleep as their barren branches provide shelter
While ice shimmers in artsy patterns under sunlight
Squirrels busy at feeders, hoarding seeds and nuts
Winds blow snowfall as it cleanses the drab ground
Ducks heard quacking while perching on icy riverbeds
Nature becomes a magical display in winter
Old fashioned memories of Christmas eve
wrap up her heart with twinkling fairy-lights
Hot sugar-plum trickles its sweetness from Winters gone
Cold waltzing winds invite wild fire to warm the hallway
till the last ember from maple logs fades soft and slowly within her soul.
A cup of joy from season's song fills up each thought with yester's vision
when silver tinsel sparkled the night and voices hummed in graceful cheer.
When melting icicles glistened in his eyes as virgin snowflakes veiled her brown hair.
Incadescent hues in cobbled alleys welcome December
with blue spruce pine cones and wholly wreaths
Comforting scents of cedar wood and vigil lanterns
light up the Grotto and winding streets.
Another year,her eyes sat on a silent star which stands upon the verdant tree
Which knows a wish,which hears each sigh,yet fails to sprinkle serenity.
The perching robin has left its nest,leaving its scarlet upon her chest
Smouldering ash is what remains and lurking frost on window-panes.
Neath the lone mistletoe by candle bliss, Upon her brow His withered kiss.
An amazing perching songbird,
the males are bright, lively and striking to see,
a splash of color in Canada's winter snow.
Can survive in the coldest of temperatures somehow,
to sing beautiful whistling songs
repeated over and over from a bare tree top.
Autumn wings grace the stout limbs,
That quiver with the perching
Of mimicking mockingbirds.
Amid a lone live oak tree,
A bachelor sings to its
Intended in an endless
Ebony Garden of stars.
perching sparrow bird
migrator bird in winter
calm dark blue grosbeak
Asters and morning glory stud on the ground,
In fresh blooming scents fill the air as they abound;
Butterflies and bees hovering and perching to probe,
Are ardent kisses for month’s enchantment in our globe.
Golden trees’ pirouetting foliage boast with sunshine,
Raining confetti-leaves bless born babies, so divine!
The dark sky stretches across the heights.
Overcast clouds roam, late at night.
The round moon does not reveal its rays.
The snow on the peaks may melt away.
In the morning, the sparrows fly joyfully,
Plucking flowers and perching in the trees.
A pair of wild doves appears sad and silent,
While blackbirds search for worms with talent.
Spring flowers bloom along the front fence,
Like a group of teenagers practicing a dance,
Watching the rain play in the new season.
The small leaves will take turns next month.
The spring blends both sad and happy
It is a rule that governs human society
There is a desire for couples to despise
Thus, we all change from time to time
River, Heart, Gaze, Eclipse, Lush, Tender
-------------------------------------
A gentle flowing RIVER
reflecting an ECLIPSED moon
no tides, no pretended pull,
unlike influenced ocean
flows TENDERLY not hurting
dear lives depending on her
LUSH vibrant gulmohar trees
stand sentinel banking her
where greenish feathery leaves
sway to give full shade decor
They speak in new love whispers,
meaningless sweet so nothings
Oh! Tired song birds sleep-perching
light on frail branches of trees
Embrace lovers' ambience,
a lullaby to HEART'S fill
Stars GAZE in combined wonder
at glistening mild river
Somewhere near, a lonely heart
immersed in soothing music
Asks the cool breeze to carry
harmonics and secret notes
listeners hear, walkers walk
towards divine melody
quiver across limbs
perching mockingbird mimic
a sound that last forever in our memory
Second Chance For Non Placement Poetry Contest
Constance La France
Ends Poetry Contest
1/16/25
Quote-
"At the end of rainbow the couple found their pot of gold breathtaking."
By Author
At the end of the rainbow
A couple romanced
Under the arches of love
So vibrant, timely, and colorful
Stretching under the sheets of the sky
And the pillows of the clouds
A bed of two roses perching toward the sun
Slowly, softly, sensually, and simultaneously
The spectrum of two turning to one
As the couple raced in cadence
With the passing rainbow
And kaleidoscope
Weathering nature's course naturally
Such wildness of this aphrodisiac
And mimicking the flapping birds above
The wings of love stretching
And flying freely, arching and releasing
Happily ending ...
Then landing in a field of rain showers
charcoal grey horizon~
on the rusty cast iron bench
my old self sits in pensive mood
beside the lake beneath December sky
the wayward wind as it teases my hair
whispers melodies from long ago~
that breath echo in the air
the echo reverberates ~
weaving fragments into vivid voices
and symphonies of yesteryears
my grandma's lullaby
our high-school graduation song
then tender laughters
of children at play fill the air
then comes the echo
of my father's sobbing voice
as he handed me to my groom
on that Saturday afternoon
whilst the organist played
the Wedding March by Mendelssohn
as the echo fades
and turns tenebrous twilight
into enchanting ebony evening
I look around ~
the coffee shop behind me
inviting for another cup
whilst the coffee on my lap
gets colder and colder
yet not as cold as the winter chill
perching inside of me
Sub Categories
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.