Sue’s nine-year-old husky Blue wanted to drive
she laughed and said “not while I’m alive!”
The next time I saw them, he was in her lap.
Driving her Caddy; she said “I am such a sap!”
Her children have all bested her in many ways too.
A really weak sister is my neighbor Sue.
Sunlight leaking through every tree of girth
White tree sap dripping onto the earth
Feeding insects scurrying with no fright
This sap of life that gives our eyes sight
Gives us shadows to dance in praise till night
Breaking through the web of branches impermanent
A shining sap beyond the blue firmament
That our forebears tasted every day with eyes bright
A sap spread across our spinning world in plight
Wrapping our world in sunlight beyond the great height
Kiss
hidden
in secret.
Locked forever,
shining leaves caught in sap turned to amber:
a golden love held in rings betrothed.
In unison,
palm to palm,
fingers
touch.
(Painting 1, 30th August)
worn winter withers
tantalizing tasty tears~
mapleworm pupates
blood
divine
creation
miraculous
sap
i pine
for your
pine tree
yes licking
not but a
knot
where the
sap spills
out and
where my
tongue in
mouth
takes in
it all so
say
thank
you
Retsina
meaning must rise as
sap in a tree too blossom
and leave what we see
as unhindered word
spaces between leaf faces
where meaning climbs past
as life's sap waters
an inevitable cure
against final fall
stan sand
Our election is over and Doug Ford is the chap
In the face of we Liberals, a humongous slap
One Ford was enough
We've fallen on our duffs
Our Canadian maples have been drained of their sap
Me doing programming
Being a part of a wonderful team…
Knowing, not snoring
During the meetings…
During discussions about the sky
Which is above us…
About its azure
Bright blue in color in cloudless skies…
(Now read slowly)
Sun shining brightly
Intervening with slumber.
If there's one thing worse than winter
It's more winter that makes us whimper
80 years of this crap
I'm nutso, what a sap
Think I just heard you agree in a whisper
© Jack Ellison 2016
The wild hair of the trees
lay down on the ground.
Others burn up in a blue smoke.
The severed branches in small heaps.
I saw, in the middle of the sawdust,
The pieces of the great plane tree,
Where we carved our names.
The drawn heart, smiled at me,
Even with its sap tears,
the wounded sapwood
a kind of last farewell.
-
RC
-
La chevelure sauvage des arbres
s'est couchée sur le sol.
D'autres se consument
en fumées bleues.
Les branches sectionnées en petit tas.
J'ai vu, au milieu de la sciure,
Les billots du grand platane,
Où nous avions gravés nos noms.
Le cœur dessiné, me souriait,
Même avec ses larmes de sève,
d'aubier blessé,
en une sorte de dernier adieu.
Green is more than a color it’s true;
In viridescence there’s the promise
Of life springing anew,
Or maybe that’s found
In hues vibrant chartreuse.
Pea is the eyes of a jaundice and spite
It’s a virulent shade
Which foreshadows a fight
That’s driven by envy—
An emotional blight.
And once March is near
Let’s not forget Shamrock--
To the Irish it’s dear
For old countries remembrance,
They even color rivers and beer.
And the list could go with endless zeal
Shades of green with names
Like Moss, Mint and Teal.
Pear, Avocado, and Apple
Each have their own a-peel.
JSC 3/23/2015
"It's Spring--Show Me the Green" Contest by Francine Roberts
Runners, joggers, wheeler, hikers -
They feel the power of nature's glow, with breeze and sun
Then with such course, the walking dead joins in? or shun?
Each runner's course is rough, then smooth
They and the jogger feel lifted up, by golden rule
Hikers hike, and what do they feel? zeal!
Like wheeler; they, too, zip up for fresh air's meal
Runners, joggers, wheeler, hikers; they all know who rules
Even walkers are a pert of their pool... in which
The Maker of breeze, and nature's glow and sun
Holds reservoir of sap fit for everyone.
*
From the root, the sap rises up into the artist,
Flows through him, flows to his eye.
Activated by the force of the current,
He conveys his vision into his work.
He stands at a fixed place as the trunk of the tree
He does nothing other than gather
And pass on what rises from the depths
Neither he serves nor commands but transmits.
What a transmission of the classical music
It is certainly a form of meditation,
His consciousness is not in the lower vital world
And playing something soulful in high consciousness.
+++++++
April 29, 2014
Form Free Verse
Dr. Ram Mehta
Third Place Win
Contest: Rock My World by Debbie
(this has happened a few times to me when
trying to sleep out on my deck in the sun!)
I longed to nap
and laid me down right here.
Then peacefully I closed my eyes
and drifted off round “sheep one-hundred-four.”
But what a sap!
When sleep came very near,
my body jolted; with surprise
I wakened from the sound of my own snore.
For paula Swanson's "The Light is On, But Nobody Is Home"
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