Short Drowsing Poems

Summons

drowsing, most coyly, 
just beneath a placid mind
yearning, stirs a soul, 
tearing it from all content
siren from afar…Petra calls....

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among huge red blooms
ornamental grasses wave
fleecy clouds wander

drowsing in fierce sun
very fragrant snowball bush
greenest grass carpets

purple peonies
shaded by cream sunflowers
when plum sun passes...

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Playing in sunshine
is a twirling girl and cat
Meows and laughter
Romping away sweet moments
until the day is drowsing

In tall green grasses
pretty kitty's soon sleeping
in shadows of day
The orange sun's retreating
in meadow of memories...

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tickle of sweet love
                                      her image's in his aura
                                    youngsters drowsing well
                                     audiences of each other
                                 oneness is in eyes and hearts...

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Sleeping in blossoms, plush pillows!
Fleeting dreams, of pink, cloud billows.
Red, orange, purple and golden,
spread over green park, so olden.
Soft, the sighs, as hummingbird flies,
Oft' plagued by purple martin cries.
Falling through petals ~ deep, downy.
Crawling time, scented and drowsy....

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Hazy days 'neath summer skies,


Scent filled air and butterflies.


In the fields, lolling cows


Resting under shading boughs.


No breath of wind, no cooling breeze


Flowers greeting bumble bees.


High above, raucous crows


Sending scorn to all below.


All else though, half asleep


drowsing, in the midday heat....

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Let’s pretend Sundays last forever
and spend hours drowsing in the sun.
Let stress slowly fade, like a passing parade
and our cares will seem light as feathers.

I hear clouds still collage on blue canvas,
and deciduous leaves turned bright colors
we’ll picnic, we’ll laugh, and lay in the grass 
and this Sunday will outshine all the others....

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Lights off
Eyes shut
Mind drowsing
Its door ajar

Unseen the muse out sneaking
Silently the rooms soaring
Against walls blindly knocking
Preys restlessly around chasing

Over catchy images mulling
Poetic words in far corners hunting
Beautiful rhymes at last catching
Back through the door all of them haling

The master mind his sentence giving
Into verse the prisoners eternally latching...

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A work not done by heart is equal to scarlet thing. 
Ornament adored corpse, life doesn't bring.

 A donkey bathed with holy water wise it will not be
Decorated abandoned house happy it will not be

Patted food over stomach will not satisfy hunger  
Wax statues, body replica, not the power of thinker 

Fresh water added vodka a potion for drowsing
A work not done by heart is equal to scarlet thing...

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relish, oh relish
scream over your scream
feel ever more deeply
become the great dream
breath ever more deeply
climb ever more steeply
start drowsing- so sleepy
is nothing as seems?
feel, oh feel 
such is grasping and tearing
clawing and gnawing
so harsh and apalling
fighting and brawling
teeth clinched tight and snarling
touching and running
pushing and stunning
crawling with cunning
all in fun we agree...

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Today the mist rules, stolen horizon
in a merge of sea and dank air, sky
confiscated, parcelled in a grey 
patination like macular degrade.

Fields and village prematurely aged
to lie in a state of transience,
shrouded in mourning funereal garb
fashioning weighted reverend silence.

Even the rising tide treads  quiet
in its take as the pacing frill 
of frothed surf whispers a rhythmic  lullaby
to the drowsing day beneath its blanket....

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Drowsing on a grassy knoll, gazing out over the meadow
I watch
 the early morning mist dissipate
Like milky white vapour of silken gauze rising skyward,
 filtering through the trees of burnished gold
In this the season when trees undress
And leaves come swirling down
 The rough grass where I lie
Still damp with a wood sprite’s dewy tears
Lulling me like a babe,
My weary eyes close, and in this peaceful place 
I rest 

...

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