I try to avoid them in the crisp morning light,
but I hastily sink into their mud-caked bottoms.
I sink to my knees in their inevitable stratum.
One after another, beyond memory or thought,
swirling pools of consciousness unspoken.
Parallel immersive mythos together and unbroken.
Heavy here, my trudge from pond to pond,
egoless consciousness watches with detachment.
My fledgling demanding acts are persistent.
My emotions are unwitting and hand-crafted.
These ponds of my making create schemas
from hormones and perceptual appraisals.
I plod through stages of deepening awareness.
From weeping to laughter, I feel each valence nuance.
Though I try to resist them again and again,
these are my schemas, my reckoned inventions.
Like a roaming wolf or a squirrel poised in a tree,
These emotional appraisals are my intentions.
These spontaneously self-organizing feelings
are my defenses, my epiphanies of universal marvel
as egoless consciousness awaits, unspoken.
Out in the forest, deep still water’s sleep
As through the bushes soft flowers peep
A reflection shines of bushes nearby
On top of the water like a quiet Angels sigh
Light brown Acer’s stand proud and tall
Forming a guard of honor over the small waterfall
As the water trickles making small ripples of light
As the Sun shines on the water, a reflection so bright
High trees are standing overlooking the scene
Remembering how many people, nearby have been
Fish swimming endlessly, no cares at all
Only disturbed by the leaves that may fall
Still waters run deep. Or so they say
As the Sun goes to rest at the end of the day
Soon darkness falls, all in the woods falls asleep
And the night animals come out and silently creep
All round the area, hope they do not fall in
Because at night that would be such a mortal sin
So on wards and upwards, this situation exists
For tomorrow is a another day, in this woodland, Pond tryst
Dear Lord,
I'm ready to sip the trumpet's venom.
I'm ready for the flood, the white fire fingertips.
To rinse the devil's grin into the abyss....
I pray the predators have a slow-motion bleed.
A cut of their chandelier's electricity.
I pray, Lord, you let the children gather wings.
To make their way into eternity.
Dear Lord.
I'm ready for a refurbishing of Eden.
A smoothing of a fractured soul
A refurbishing of our twisted strand.
An immaculate rebirth-a pristine gold.
Dear Lord.
I'm ready-so bring it on.
Lay it on thick and heavenly strong.
Bring the shadow of your blackest song.
Bring on the rapture
Flood their islands, crumble their castles
Cool down their nuclear reactors.
Lay a scythe to proud pyramids and rocket ships.
Treat their cock roach souls
like they've treated our children's dreams and hopes.
I pray you glean the gems from clay.
The lily from the winter pond of Monet.
solunar evening
serene azure beckoning ~
stirrers of the deep
(August Full Moon – Great Lakes and Lake Champlain)
orphan tadpoles plead
home returning foreign birds
to come back so soon
07 October 2021
stable is its core
depth and width rarely change up
it guarantees life
POND LIFE
White water lily rooted deep
Profusive alba in flora peep;
Over the surface,upside down
Waterboatman-nature's clown.
Spiders spin their bubbled bell
Close to a ramshorn in crimson shell;
Stick insects,two inches long
Feed midst a tumultuous throng;
Mosquitoes,midges and water fleas
Breed ' neath the shade of willow trees;
Rush,sedge in tall loose strife
In open ponds that team with life.
re-post from | Year Posted 2007
Along the blood road there are thousands of ponds.
Carved out by American bombs.
A futile attempt to blast communism
into the next millennium.
It'll take a hundred years to remove
unexploded ordinances.
Children mistake them for shiny toys.
Every day is black Christmas for children
who play along the blood road.
The metal from war doesn't go to waste.
The skin of bombs is made into skiffs.
That putter around the delta mist.
Some taking in round-eyed tourists...
Who're eager to see how a poor communist lives.
More often than not they'll be invited into a hut
provided a humble, heartfelt meal.
Sometimes by a widowed one-armed matriarch.
Today, the blood road is being devoured by jungle.
Natives still slave over rice paddies.
Just like they have for a thousand years.
And will for a thousand years more.
Some of the bomb ponds hold trapped fish
where villagers toss hopeful nets...
and who said war is good for nothing?
A Billion Ponds
----------------
I came to the land of a billion ponds
where they said there would be (one day) a million more.
A billion ponds shimmered in sunsets;
lined up purposefully for my delight.
A billion birds or more perished on these ponds
and they made twilight unbearable for me,
these billion birds on the trillion million ponds.
So I went away from ponds - all of them - far from the million,
or was it a trillion - the numbers in my head...
I went away from them and all the birds
but tweet of them on Twitter to the millions, (who forget).
----------------------------------------------------------------------
3/17/2019
Sail with me my darling!
Let’s ride on golden ponds,
Our summer times are ending
Winters far too long
Twilight years are mooring
Memories floating high,
Hand in hand we’ll travel
Through sunsets beyond the sky
Guided through every ripple
Destiny in our eyes,
Love will always remember,
Years that had drifted by,
Boat rides will continue,
In tomorrow’s paradise,
There we’ll see the Loon birds,
Kiss our final goodbye,
We’ll ride this final journey,
As we start to wonder why,
All our beautiful memories
Never to say goodbye
Only to kiss eternity,
On golden ponds, we die.
04/06/16
One, two
Spirits
Entwined
Side by side
Alone
Yet together
Not identical
Fraternal
Reflections
Images floating
Starry skies
Pond leaves
Debris
Covers
Bright colors
Masking Intentions
Rain falling
Uncovering
Veins of love
Stem to tip
Floating
Stopping
Pond's edge
Embracing
sweet rainy season
alike voice of toads in ponds
no sound when dried up
Moonlit Ponds
the moon's reflection
stirs in the pond as ripples
gather around us
so close we're breathing as one
' till our eyes meet I can't breathe
looking at the moon
holding each other tightly
the whispering wind
breathes our secret to the trees
and laughs ripples on the pond
my fever rages
as a hot caldron burning
you have bewitched me
my spellbound heart skips like stones
jumping on the moonlit pond
deborah burch©
5/26/2012
to cyndi because inquiering minds wanted to know...now duck ...quick! LOL
Lowell ponds what
nature you threw
at me.
It's been nice visiting
you these past few months,
fell in love with your peace
you handed out.
Red Winged blackbirds long
departed, such a wonderful
bird you were, you showed
me the ways of nature.
Farewell my feathered
friends, such marvels
I saw each day,
I came here.
Maybe next spring,
will come again, until
then farewell Lowell ponds,
until we meet again.
wrote 10-5-07 My last Lowell ponds poem I wrote.
Ducks from all over
have come to Lowell
ponds for the diving
championship of the pond.
As I watch so many
of them diving to
see who can stay
under the longest,
it will be a close
game, as they all
seem to be doing
fine job.
wrote 9-28-07
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