Bonding with Nature
Early Sunday morning;
nature rattling at the front door!
I accept the invitation to bond,
stepping out with nothing more in tow
than an upturned collar
and a theatrical imagination.
The morning’s ground is well-baked pastry,
crusted with a shiver of winter;
sunlight whispering across the ground
all sharp colour and playfulness.
So I stride out, church bells skipping alongside
with light skating off in front of me.
Soon I am within reach of the beach;
my sandy sanctuary,
but nature is in a roguish mood,
its light fluctuating;
its moods shifting;
gloss turning to flat matt.
The sea offers up a cold, blue arm
encouraging me into watery depths
while the sky, heavy in thought, reclines
on a grey leather-weathered armchair.
Behind, peeking through clouded curtains
a new season waits to spring into action.
Ian Souter
Categories:
reclines, beach, life, nature, weather,
Form: Free verse
Fur bounds, through the cottony breeze, to me.
On a warm, summery day,
the scent of dog resounds.
A wet nose, commiserate smile and hug.
Against my skin, he reclines.
I’m always home with him.
His eyes, see not, purple flowers blooming;
not intuitive of hue;
but bud’s loyal as bees.
My shoulder’s bare, does he know skin, or care?
He stays very close to me
and wanders nearly far.
My pretty dress and handsome hat amidst
the enchantment of meadow.
He doesn’t know its charm.
Obeys, he stays, protects territory.
A fine life, with benefits;
faithful to each other.
Categories:
reclines, dog,
Form: Ekphrasis
An emperor reclines in
thrall to my confines
O, how he’d dictate to his heart’s delight
but he’s too wise to fight
my shrewd mind and my steely spine
~ carves out his place midst my shrine
Categories:
reclines, fantasy, me, strength, wisdom,
Form: Rhyme
In sunlit rooms, a feline form reclines,
Meolu, the cat with fur of silken sheen.
With eyes of jade, his gaze on birds' designs,
A graceful hunter, silent and serene.
His purrs, a melody that intertwines
With household sounds, create a peaceful scene.
At night, he roams on padded paws so light,
A shadow dancing in the pale moonlight.
Categories:
reclines, animal, cat, pets,
Form: Ottava rima
With sleek quartz body he reclines on the dune,
rolls on dancing with the rhyme of ripples strewn
listens to the arid music of the harsh desert wind,
face gleaming, doesn’t mind the grueling grind.
He lies still on mirage in the shadow of solitude,
his heart of cool crystal feels the heat intrude,
sees the scarlet sun scorch the desolate desert,
waits for the waltz of cool night breeze to start.
He feels the forceful fury as the sandstorm blows,
to the fervid fold of the opalescent oasis he goes,
where he sinks as serenity soaks his heart’s core,
the rage of the desert sun can’t sear him anymore.
Categories:
reclines, analogy, uplifting,
Form: Personification
tired of his violent program
turns off, un-reclines, stands up
scent of perfume drifts down stairs
turns on love station
Categories:
reclines, desire,
Form: Dodoitsu
The cherish of the pearled constellations reflect
in her eyes, so wondrous her eyes.
It is the hour of the romance of the spring equinox,
the saints are whispering in their night vespers.
Her muse slumbers in a gown of velveteen dreams,
yet, her moonlight-blessed creativity is such
lyrical ecstasy born from her quintessence.
Her gifts of poetry bid me to breathe them in
with their stardust enchantments.
No, she is not mortal,
she pens of not only love's light and stars,
but of humankind and it's folly.
The blithsome moon desires to stay,
as her eternal face of ageless lover's
inspiration will not leave her timeless poetess.
Poetess, oh poetess, reclines on
cumulus clouds of eventide pink and lavender,
that billows so gently from her being.
Rise, dear poetess, and pen more the
mastery of your words, your verse,
til God's gilded dawn. ~
Categories:
reclines, 7th grade, 8th grade,
Form: Free verse
His wife dies.
You have seen it all before,
you can tell what will happen next.
He will recline in the home
that she has woven around him.
He will let the ivy
of their long years together
coil around his somnambulant thoughts.
The house grows imperceptivity
into a mausoleum.
Some warmth remains,
within her carpet slippers
and housecoats.
He keeps them close.
The cat will always be
the shadow of her hand.
He is a watcher,
not at the funeral or the cemetery,
but from the other side of a bed.
He arranges ornaments,
puts them back the way they were.
Takes out fading photographs
of them both on vacation,
good times, also
times when heartbreaking rocks
had to be climbed.
He places all those sepia moments
into a shoe box
she has provided,
knowing he would need it.
Categories:
reclines, poetry,
Form: Free verse
The land lies
Chilled and stilled.
Whether flatlands
Or rolling hills.
Damp, cold, and alone;
She doesn't feel at home.
It's hard to feel at home
Where warmth and purpose seem
To be in decline or have departed.
The land knows that she was made to yield;
To yield grain, nuts, fruits, and vegetables.
But when she gives pause and thought,
She realizes that she's right at home.
She surrenders herself to a state of rest,
And when thought upon, she no longer feels
Bored and alone, but very much at home.
She becomes pleased that yesterday's yields
Are being utilized and feasted upon. So, she
Reclines and anticipates the yields of Spring.
She can't wait for the sprouting seeds and blossoming
trees. But until then, the lifeline of the land's present
season will thrive on patience, trust, sleep, and anticipation.
010624PS
Categories:
reclines, seasons, winter,
Form: Prose Poetry
Contest: Brooding Nimbus Sponsor: Edward Ibeh 6-19-23
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Brooding Nimbus
Midnight trails a filmy brooding nimbus,
Idle shadows etch lines on the daylight;
Vertigo lingers, teeters on limbus,
Distorted ghosts escape into dawn’s sight.
Remnants of realms, inborn of misshaped clouds,
Ruminate raindrops to bleed the bizarre
Palpable phantoms the mid-day enshrouds -
Reclines as shape-shifts in murmuring stars.
Hobbled memories drifting unresolved,
Surrealistic needles stab dazed eyes
Fretting repines, floats in veils unabsolved,
Fades slowly into the unanswered why.
Slowly day chases back mystic extremes
Evening broods in misty nests of new dreams.
Categories:
reclines, dream,
Form: Sonnet
I will doff my ermine gown
and take off my kingly crown.
The day declines, the course is run,
on fleece of gold reclines the sun.
I'll not retouche the Mona Lisa
or straighten up the Tower of Pisa.
Further work in that connection
I leave to those who seek perfection.
Categories:
reclines, art, career, retirement,
Form: Lyric
So, Saint Paul, you faced a thorn in your flesh?
I can hardly hide my envy tonight.
Softer and smoother than hay in the creche -
My cross does her best when I dim the light.
No threat of pain, unless it might service
promise of pleasures that she seeks to give.
Aroused ev'n more because I am nervous,
she loves most the sin she'll never forgive.
Keenly attuned to fantasy's wishes,
she pushes me down, proves herself master.
Then she reclines with grin so malicious,
as well-taught student courts his disaster.
Paul, I'll take black thorn instead of white thighs.
Let me trade. Let me trade! Let me trade!!! Lies ...
5 May 2023
Categories:
reclines, dark, desire, dream, evil,
Form: Sonnet
The Lion and the Gypsy
For some, life is simple in raw assertiveness,
With no disarmament of conscience, alertness.
Beneath a moonlit sky, a heartbeat from closed eyes,
The wild beast presides with the power over life.
Sleep, child. Water to drink and music to compose,
Let the restraining odour fill the lion’s nostrils.
Whose appetite is satiated and mind perplexed
Questions itself, ‘is it living or is it dead?’
The gypsy, tranquil, reclines on the sands of time,
While the big cat is stymied by its unresolved find.
His, the will to survive with the instinct to kill, to eat,
Hers, the want of love to create and the desire for peace.
Where now destined the lion and gypsy shift,
The outcome determined and the conclusion swift.
***
Note:
‘The Lion and the Gypsy’ is an ekphrastic poem perspective of the 1897 painting "The Sleeping Gypsy" by Henri Rousseau (1844-1910).
Categories:
reclines, animal, life, nature,
Form: Ekphrasis
In my countryside, silent at sunset
Long gone is the stress, long gone is the fret,
Long gone is the need to be so wide-eyed
Silent at sunset, in my countryside
Calm now are my skies with their colors bold
Streaks of blue marry with orange and gold,
My mind long gone astray, as the crow flies
With their colors bold, calm now are my skies
Another day ends on my small hometown
It's old, sunbathed bricks now shading brown,
As dusk creeps in corners, silence descends
On my small hometown, another day ends
Down the sun dips behind my shadowed pines
And so easily now my head reclines,
Watching and awaiting some dreamy trips
Behind my shadowed pines, down the sun dips.
Categories:
reclines, nature, silence, sky, stress,
Form: Quatrain
Who on God reclines
Worldly offers declines:
To the scripture inclines
Noting the sharp lines
Between Gods and gods;
Though both sides wield rods;
From worshipers nods:
The latter mere pods,
Things to smoke like cods
Or just kick with leg
And refuse to beg...
Who an God reclines
Only dines and wines
From Lord God's rich mines...
This, forever, signs
Categories:
reclines, god, image, people, religious,
Form: Rhyme
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