Short Faun Poems

Faun over a sight.
Rip tide in the maple leaves
means peril is nigh....

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With rounded ram horns, the faun could hear better than most.
I do not even try to do it either, he will readily boast.
Today he is sitting on a crescent moon, who loves being his host.
They are in the cosmos, barely moving, both of them upon coast....

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Dry leaves falling down 
valley lost in melancholy
nature smiles silently

Life crawls in the woods
pine tree waits for new costumes
flora-faun drowsy

chime of dry oak leaves
rustle of wind missing charm
peacock forgot dance

(By Kishan Negi)...

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Golden moon's tears rain through shear silken mist,
when shadows grow long in evening breeze,
the flute of the faun through hushed trees
fills the night in baneful tryst.
Arduous sounds of love's
passionate caress
leaving lovers'
stolen kiss
ever
lost.


01/28/16...

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AFTERNOON ( two Cinquain)

Deep breath
Winter is done
Spring breath rustles the trees
And here I sit       all afternoon
Thinking     (winter is done)
You foolish man!
Live NOW!


Warm flute
And Debussy
“Afternoon of a Faun”
I can almost see the meadow
Sense his young innocence
He’s safe    quite calm
Respite...

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Wooden paths I seek forlorn,
I miss the smell where I was born.
The coolest air of blossoms bloom 
no longer wait for me to loom.
No canopy to be my roof ~
now ashes scattered under hoof.
I had to leave I couldn't stay,
they took upon themselves that day:
destroying what I miss the most ~
My home,
 now just a charcoal ghost....

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Tender notes
harmonic echoes
ancient myth
a specter
half man, half goat, pan-piping
a Faunus named Pan.

Where fairies
dance and play all day
Pan pipes his
lovely songs
ethereal, images
display in moonlight.

Fleeting scenes
woodland dreams play out
greenwood stage
moonlights play
a mythic operetta
in night lit gardens.



2-18-2022
Give Me A Shadorma Poetry Contest
Sotto Poet...

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It’s said that, if you find Pan
when he’s unaware, he has to give you his
magic panpipes.

I do covet that sound;
that ethereal, lilting, chiming
sound; it’s tranquilizing harmony.

And so, I’ve hunted him since I was a kid;
in every greenwood, forest and hedgerow;
every mountain and emerald dale.

Ever-elusive faun...I feel as though
he’s watching me; they also say...
the trees will cloak him...
...

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