Short Hilltops Poems

The golden sunshine
Adorns the hilltops with such
Royal coronets......

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I can see the vibrant colors of autumn slowly beginning to mesh into these misty Tennessee hilltops.
I love this season....

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verdant the hilltops
gold as light
flushed without a moon



3 August 2015
Pretty Little Lunes Contest
#5--- Kelly Lune...

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Prescriptions
Are stories 
Providing many
Twists and turns
Paths and hilltops
And valleys 
In searches for
Something better.....

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leopard's domain
                                                        flatlands hilltops jungle
                                                            scavanger's feast...

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Bittersweet

It comes in bloom when winds blow cold on hilltops, in valleys, flowers get bold,
With petals of orange, scarlet centers, Bittersweet comes when autumn enters.

11-16-20...

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Whirling gently on the hilltops,
Idling lightly in the breeze,
New technology old as time,
Driven wind making power.
Finest set in Australia,
Always turning, never sleeping,
Round and round they go.
Magical, merry windmills,
Snowtown they surround....

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In pastoral lands
With green fields abound
And high hilltops to search and explore
The old man sheep stubbornly stands
All alone in wind and rain
The shepherd looks on and idly wonders
Whether the wether, will weather the weather,
or whether the wether will not...

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Her allure blooms in musty shops
Held on silver bands of celtic lores

A foretelling of ancient paths...

Of twilight-caught scarlet raindrops
Of visions gleaned through fateful doors

Of spells whispered to Welsh hilltops

A mystic gem on Wiccan staff
My opal of demure witchcraft

5/15/19...

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Now on the hilltops,
Snow on the trees,
Snow everywhere I walk,
Way up to my knees.

Scoop the snow up with your hands
And roll into a ball.
We can make a fine snowman
Standing white and tall.

What a fine morning day
With all the snow I see,
I want to go outside to play
When winter visits me....

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Coming back home.
On your own.
Morning mist.
In the rain.
Nothing is the same.
Get going, man,
Back home again.
Another time, a different person.
Cable cars move me down the road.
Kites torn and wet on the ground.
Hilltops in the haze.
Onerous and erroneous,
My acrostic a broken cheese grater.
Everything's greater at home....

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Watch that great, hot, metal disk spin on the burning horizon.
It bellows waves of undulating bronze
pouring brilliance over rolling hilltops below.
Its dazzling glare gives way to long, dark shadows,
cast by a myriad of towering green behemoths
gathering together beneath that metallic sky.
In stillness, they discuss the earth's darkest secrets....

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Gray skies and heavy fogs
Gusty wind with hovering calls
Downpour of cold raindrops 
Soaking wet oak treetops

Swaying meadows of hilltops
Delighted deer grazing on grass
Green pasture and turkey flocks
Blue pond with two mallards

Pink moon’s gleams at dawn
Silvery-pink dusting on lake-top
Scatters of nippy dewdrops
Chilly goosebumps on arms...

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Cut from glass
Cut from flesh
My steel windows peer
From hilltops to the marketplace

Rotary clubs banishing good taste
With taxes to fill up the State
Now following fault lines
To earthquake insure the day, stay awake

Insurance claims fake a new mistake
Numbers surround the climax of fate
Urging paper weights to cover shifting sands
Allow us to stand anew...

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When Donald Trump rants
or a drunk pulls down his wet pants

Mike Pompeo runs his detention camps
in Gods name of course

When the Fox
Is wiser than the hen

One day Freddie
will boil in mercury

never to come back
from the dead

Queens will have their say
Pushing the bully over to the quay

When arrogance yells high on the hilltops
NO COMMENT...

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The apple tree
With its sunshine
Sought its entry
At my window

I was busy
I liked it though
Its smile and glow
Had to decline

Now when I see
With you the shine
Pain of green pine
Clouds the hilltops

In the lone blues
Time seek dew drops
Once the full stops
Lost the warm sea

Still, I look at
Mellowed beauty
Out of pity
If it comes once


July 4, 2018...

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Flowers seek the sun-
As newborn lambs find their feet
Life begins anew.

The sweltering sun-
Beams down on summertime fun
Hosepipe ban again.

Leaves fall from the trees
How the nights start closing in.
Everything dying.

Snow on the hilltops
Nothing seems to be alive 
Except crackling fires.

Sun and rain give life-
Once more to countrysides.
Spring is here again....

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When I close my eyes you come crawling 
stirring up my soul 
diving in my dreams 
delving thru my seams 

Flutter my butterfly with vestigial wings 
let me chase after you 
where the catail do sing 

Fly over hilltops seduced by the sea 
slip off to the sunshine 
and visions of me 

Enter my pasture where waters run deep 
place your wings upon my shoulders 
and let yesterday's sleep...

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___________________


She wanders soft sway alive 

Among the drunken savage souls 

Within a forbidden whiskey dive

Perhaps a man would join her side

for now she strolls along 



Mosaic honey hilltops high

Unfurled swaying rhythmic glide

She taunts and turns a naughty smile

If only to be seen

_____________________________________




...

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wake up

arrogant bird
black velvet blot
calling now raucously down the wind
light is barely caressing the patch work hilltops
snow creeps minutely 
backing off from the slumbering valley

a new spring chorus will soon commence
you self inflated huckster
rush to grab the top most branch
arranging a choir of cacophony
out-sounding the melodious songsters  
attempting to mate
through the rusty gate imitations....

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Fragrant blossoms imbue
in a distillation of technicolor vision
across the dampened meadow,
awakening it from a winter repose.

Dew-tipped grass lightly bends
as a chilled breath swirls in the air.
Verdant landscape hues cover
faraway shadowed rolling hilltops.

A crispness in the surrounding signals
an embraced dusting of vapors,
following a light cloudburst above:
A sprinkling refresh for growth.

Spring has sprung....

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Walking on this green grassy path
In the far spread fields of flowery mustards
Provides a priceless relief to my oh! Tired soul;
Better than the meditating monks feel 
In solitude, in the stupas on the Himalayan hilltops;
Where light winds blow continual, 
And duck-birds dive in and dance.
And it at first saddens a bit, later making me smile,
When I find it, at places, often,
How my old innocent farmer neighbor
Has secretly budged the stony boundary marks....

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Dawn breaks through the darkened night
exhaling beams of sprinkled light
across dense blankets of snowy white.

Naked, bony limbs start snapping
reaching arms upward while napping
allotting chilled moss to lay wrapping.

Frosted crystalline water awaiting
the ice-kissed surroundings, while creating
melancholy moans of biting wind deflating.

Craggy hilltops bordering, in sharp peaks,
glistening barren landscapes in streaks
as relentless Winter hibernation bespeaks....

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And over every wall that blocks me,

Over 
Every distant hill that I can see,

I imagine 
A magical land,

A land,
Where somehow things are different,

Winged creatures 
dance among the trees,

Sunlight, 
Falls like torch beams,

White Clouds, 
Rise, 

Like Mountains in the sky, 

Stars hang like diamonds,

Rivers flow like electric blue,

A place 
across the hilltops,

The other side of walls,

A place that’s waiting, 

Waiting 
to be found.

John Roberts...

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