Miramichi Afternoon
The sloping shoulders of the river
tumble down rock on rock toward
the wind-riffled, slow flowing water.
Alder and grass creep down the slope
but will be ripped out once again by
the ice out floods of early spring.
The stones and haphazard boulders
are sun baked into featureless gray,
their bright minerals shrouded from view.
Land living things are more sparce here
and those present are paused by the heat.
Out on the water a dimple of a ring rise,
perhaps a salmon, more likely a trout.
A noiseless punctuation of somnolence.
Categories:
riffled, day, earth, fishing, nature,
Form: Free verse
Twirling
Head over heels
Sun glinting
On its edges
Dreams afloat
On riffled air
The splash
A cool see-saw descent
Of hope’s
Last penny
Categories:
riffled, dream, hope,
Form: Free verse
Sitting alone she whispered:
“I wish I had Poetry”
A passing butterfly
Offered her wings
A setting sun
Its “orange-ness”
The passing breeze
Its scented story
The croaking frogs
Their harmony
10,000 insects
A riffled hum
A distant Loon
Its eerie call
A silent Owl
Blinked
Its eyes saying
“we are poetry”
“become as we”
She no longer sits alone
Categories:
riffled, poets,
Form: Free verse
An Incomplete Love Story
Too fast the pages riffled
through dreary decades
innocence confronted
loves lusty laughter
growing faint
in darkened corridors.
Forever’s love
hesitant in a hazy
distant stare,
longing
for a return
of its longing,
passion adrift
on a fleeing vision.
An incomplete love story
written in blank pages
riffling too slowly
too sadly,
too soon,
to end.
John G. Lawless
©7/10/2018
Categories:
riffled, longing, love,
Form: Free verse
Raven
He riffled through his thoughts erecting a wall;
black eyes from unplumbed depth of shifting sea.
Gray as gray, as the raven mocks and pin
with a withering look a prostrate pawn.
Impotent to think of anything at all
other than him on this ghostly bleak night.
His breath a combustion of nightmares
a roar of extreme death fear and horror,
suspend or expel like a reservoir.
The sounds, smells, and sights of a brittle star
and fierce with the passing of time.
His thoughts often turned an engorged raven in silent ire.
3/29/2018
Image 1
Categories:
riffled, raven,
Form: Free verse
anticipation
cradled in the arms
of hope
lies in wait
in the aisles
of the innocent mind;
so frail
steadily eroded
by experience,
riffled by
the wind of reality,
rebuked by
a negative word
Categories:
riffled, hope,
Form: Verse
I woke to the tinkling of melting snow
dipping from my roof to the ground below.
A Robin chirping in a nearby tree,
sounded like it was serenading me.
The rising sun was wearing a warm smile,
that made my getting up seem all worthwhile.
I opened my window to sniff the air,
and sure enough, it smelled like Spring out there.
My yard was riffled with patches of green,
and my snowman had all but fled the scene.
Daffodils had popped up through the snow,
and some wildflowers had begun to show.
A tepid, gentle breeze caressed my skin,
and I felt the shift in seasons begin.
Categories:
riffled, beauty, imagery, imagination, seasons,
Form: Couplet
Big Storm A’Comin’
“Big storm a’comin’”
that’s what the old man said.
A heavy quiet crept over the valley
as if embracing a frightened child.
No lullabies riffled through the muffled trees
no rocking motion to engender sleepiness.
Concern rose as heatedly as the sun
shutters nailed shut in defiance of its light
children running aimlessly
mimicking their parents
scurrying about chasing away
the memory of the last time
the old man said:
“Big storm a’comin’”.
4/16/2016
submitted to – A Storm Is Brewing – Poetry Contest
sponsor – Kelly Deschler
Categories:
riffled, children, nature, weather,
Form: Free verse
I hate to check my luggage
When I’m about to fly.
I much prefer to carry-on
And here are reasons why -
My suitcase can’t get very lost
If it’s within my reach
And no one’s hands have riffled through,
An oft-occurring breach.
But mostly it’s a case of time –
I really hate to wait
Until the baggage carousel
Begins to activate.
And so I schlep my bag aboard;
My husband heaves it high
And hopefully, there’ll be a space
For it to occupy.
Categories:
riffled, flying,
Form: Rhyme