Ruffling Poems

LISTEN TO THE WIND

LISTEN TO THE WIND
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Listen to the wind murmur. Can you hear it
     gently stirring yesterday’s dust motes, 
          kissing everyone's cheek with forgotten warmth,
               painting hues of hope into the bleeding blue? 

Listen to the wind sing. Can you hear it
     creating a soft melody from rustling leaves,
          whispering promises etched into tree bark,
               grounding us in the breath we share equitably?

Listen to the wind mumble. Can you hear it
     bowing giant oaks, tickling forest’s green expanse,
          ruffling the mouse’s coat as well as the king’s gold crown,
               leveling an equal, impartial hand to all?

Listen to the wind whisper. Can you hear it
     raising up paper cranes and giving them flight,
          carrying one’s dreams on its placid breezes,
               guaranteeing nothing, yet everything. 

Listen to the wind moan. Can you hear it
     lifting silent prayers, light as dandelion fluff,
          bidding us pause as life’s burdens dissolve?

trees in the wind

tree branches are ruffling and rustling
shimmering, shaking, talking among themselves
unraveling their secrets
flowing in a natural rhythmic way
manipulated by the north wind

I wish I was the wind

I wish I was the wind
ruffling oak leaves
wafting through a verdant meadow

traveling through the night air
gently kissing the tips of grasses
the lightest of songs

a whispering wisp
refreshing in the rain
rejuvenating the earth as I pass by

Allergies

steady, gentle breeze
ruffling almond tree blossoms~
red, runny noses

Winter's Coming Kiss

A-rush
In a feather ruffling frenzy
cooling the flamboyant sunrise
muffling the warblers
with waffling winds

chilling the audience
in an ice-like stare
your shivery essence
ricochets through the canyon

startles the cliffs
bellows amid the echoes
of yesteryears challenge
stirs a red dust devil

they call you cold, December
for they are frail
and cannot bear the sting
of Winter’s hoary kiss

On Beach Grass

Praise be unto waves,
rising as the surf warms up;
Join hands and voices;

Pitch pipe is ruffling 
the spirit that lay dormant;
Higher vibration;

Underlying breeze 
raises the hairs on your neck;
Windy rosary;

A hymn of the sea,
sitting in pews made of sand;
Full congregation;

Reporting for high noon Mass
with madrigals on beach grass.

HIDE AND SHRIEK

A whispered shhh  hung in the air
Tall grass rustled nearby
A slight sniffy, snorty snout sound
Preceded the crinkly crunch of dry grass
Sweat slithered across my brow
A large head appeared
Violently shaking
Hanging jowls jousting
Saliva arcing aimlessly
A growl ruffling the air
We ran
Screams scurrying ahead
Saliva spewing demon behind
Fear fueled our flight
Her hand thinly slipping from mine
She fell
The demon approached
We heard her
Breathlessly shriek

“DAD
          ….CALL THE DOG”

I Paused It And Now Joey Cora Is Staring At Me

Ruffling the feathers
Of your expectations.
Rilke to the left.
The portrait of Alf
The back of my left ear.
What unconscionable theives,
These Time Czars,
Where we live with the scars,
As joy bounces on the crevices.
I see you in the dark in some cave.
Let me be your bombastic populist.
The Strong Arm of the Soul.
Play in the light of least resistance. 
My garden grows in the garden of your heart.
My every breathe is your eternal existence.
Bite the doughnut. 
Press for hugs.

Bird on a Wire

A bird on a wire
Taking in the world
Looking around about to fly
Into the beauty of the sky

Ruffling of feathers
Body tensing for take-off
Jumping from the limb
Flapping of the wings

As it soars majestically into the air
Stretching it wings to full length
Sweeping down into the Valley
Hunting for its prey

Screeching through the air
Stretching its claws out
Grab what is his
An afternoon delight

If Only You Knew

If only you knew the feel of a zephyr,
With its current swooping around hillsides
Ruffling the spruce trees everywhere,
Or descend downwards towards verdant vales
Where flowers bloom all through the year.

If only you knew what the oceans utter
As wonderful waves smash into each other,
Or roll nonchalantly towards the bays,
Destroying sand castles or wiping up
The poor love letters which were written there.

If only you knew the various sounds of Earth,
The laughter of little children playing in our parks,
The parade of grown-ups commemorating feasts,
The sounds of aeroplanes fighting for supremacy,
Whilst on the ground tanks rumble on firing at will.

If only you knew the evil concocted by selfish persons,
Where kindness seems to be at a premium.
Yet I discern others who are compassionate
And help others less fortunate than themselves.
How grateful receivers of good works will be.

If only you knew how many angels fly above
Around the silver stars that orbit in perfect harmony.
Angels that care for this poor land which 
We have ruined successfully through our unwanted trash. 
While food is thrown away when others die in famine and pain.

Placed 1

Oh, March

Oh, March,
You vagabond of trumpet gales
Swirling city trash
‘round tipping cans
Tugging
At fully outstretched flags
Ruffling Robin feathers
Jousting with Jonquils
Elevating
A hungry hawk
Howling
At the heels of fleeing winter
Lest it keep you
From a date with spring

Bewildered Psychic Efflux

The disordered sands of entropy, 
churned by the wheel of chaotic time,
settle on the stratified shelf of the disorganized life.
In moments moving with perturbed dispersed dust,
the truth of trust oscillates in tumult 
on the ruffling ripples of mayhem. 

In the bewildered efflux of errant disarray,
everything rumpled changes in nonplussed instants, 
except for the notion of change.
The mystifying alchemy of metamorphosis
reveals the real façade fragile
of the perplexing psychic transformation.

In the baffling squall of divesting dismay,
my mind disheveled in befuddled moments 
into a dishabille state of confusion,
splinters the leitmotif of the embedded emotions.
The confounded cascade of consternation 
carries them away to the abyss of oblivion.

Yet, when my castle of sand on the shore of yearning
tumbles down in a clutter of dispersed debris,
in its disorientation I discover discombobulated 
the emotive flute of dormant feelings, 
play the tune of unfazed ecstasy, 
making the lucid music of mystique memory.

Look up

Pick a star.
Let it shine.
It sparkles.
All in time.
Let it fall.
Let it drop.
Such a bright sight.
Don't stop.
Specs of diamond.
Such a touch.
That can't glisten.
Too much.
What a star.
So far in the sky.
Whole earth asleep.
Looking down to.
Reflect on the deep.
Ruffling the water 
But yet no peep.
I drag all those thoughts
into my mind.
Here you are right in front
of me looking so soft and kind,
with a dazzling smile that's all mine.
You are the star I just couldn't 
decline.
So when you look up at night.
Remember the star with the insight.
No matter.
What day.
What month.
What year it will come our way.
We will both be those stars.
Living happily.

Plum Wings

Plum
wings,
plucky
is the strum
of love’s afterglow
With purple locks and negligee,
angel flew to hubby under sateen satin sheets
Lavender ruffling, at the midnight hour, had couple vibing in synchronicity

september ready

Sweet corn has been harvested, garden picked clean
Breezy mornings now, ruffling the cat’s fur
Front porch stocked with pumpkins and gourds
School is starting, new clothes are being bought

Last year’s backpacks are thrown into a bonfire
Grandma is taking the grandchildren shopping for new
Football games have begun in earnest, fans frenzied
Cool September, you are as welcome as any month ever is

Family has to start practicing getting up early
Bus will be picking the children up at seven o’four
Mom and Dad explain high school to their freshman
Silly because fifteen-year-olds know everything

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