Short Layering Poems

cold air layering downward
surfaces...

warm moistured-ground airs
rising...

to be seen as bubble-face reflections
of...

round rain drops bowing colors
in air...


stan sand...

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Folding in the flowers
 in the basket in my mind
layering the poppies
with the marigolds and vines

eyes like sweet forget me nots
gazing at the moon,
gleaning through our garden
on a memory in June....

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The laggard oak leaves
skitter like brown field mice
their stem-tails and sharp edges
scratching across the road.
Grates and bushes trap them.
Layering they accumulate
awaiting the recomposition of life....

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Softly silver snow sifts, soundless,
lattice-like, a lacquered lace of layering light,
startling sparrows, shyly shivering for shelter,
on leafless, lustered limbs - lancets, londonite.

November 28, 2017
For Alliteration Contest...

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Grooving Time

Many beginnings and ends
Leave behind careless finger prints
Errors' dust and residue
Layering one's facade

But beneath it all
If embraced
Destiny's motion
Remains on course

Like the needle
In a record's groove
Fate travels true the path
‘til one's song runs out...

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A snow day what a lovely day the sight of the beautiful glistening white blankets of snow layering the once bright green grass and the trees usually covered by bright green leaves are now laden with snow and icicles protrude down from the branches the rhythmic sound of the snow crunching beneath ones feet oh yes a snow day what a lovely day...

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Boldly striking icy and white
Layering and building piles of snow  
Intensely stacking to block all site  
Zealously covering all with each blow
Zoning in to place the powder left to right
As high winds strengthen to continue this fight
Raging, destroying and yet leaving an ominous glow
Deceiving with the quiet calm of this mighty foe...

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June morning promising, bright
Hours full of silky light
Framed by ominous smokey gray foresight

Until the warning rumble of rain
Brings the cloud's revenge on sun's domain

The tumbling water's weight gathers vice
Layering grass in diamond-cut ice
Our season's roses, crystallized
Under dazzling sheen of glacier guise
With summer thunder, harmonized....

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Snowflakes fall thither to the drapes of my heart,

Savoring strong bonds to the joy of days anew,

Layering six feet of emotions forlorn,

Fear is all I feel, and my heart has split to two.



Will the sun ever shine like in days of old?

Will its warmth ever thaw these thickets of ice?

I long for that day when men shall be one,

When love and unity shall become comm’n ground....

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A warped perception created by the insecurities of society. Not motivated by nature or intuition, but of layering. Years of negativity, discouragement and unawareness adding grit to the already hazy lens. Deep into suffering, but the end; in no sight. Let the end be dimness, and the light be the start. The viciousness of a cycle; the circle uniting nature and man. I, who speaks, but a gesture from divine....

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Sycamores
 are amazing trees 
 shedding bark like skin 
 removing dry and brittle layers
 to reveal new pristine smooth pale green hues. 

The bark peels and laps over 
 like a tongue languishing,,
 thirsty,, panting in the Sun 
 and layering the trunk of patchwork design
 in a fresh clean quilting. 

Hail to the Sycamores 
 standing kingly tall
 unflinchingly in the wind 
 reaching toward the sky 
 with triple crowns of leaves up high....

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Forsake thee not!
For the winds may blow strong,
but the guilt will not blow away.
Like a coat, layering thee with warmth,
will remain with you and on you.
It will be your doing; to have the coat
removed.
Forsake thee not!
For though water cleanses thee,
the guilt, like an anchor, will weigh
strong and drag thee down.
Surface and remove thy weight.
For thee alone can change thy future
and effect change for those who care.
Forsake thee not!...

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Bitter cold creeps in through my bedroom window.
Wind chimes clang on the porch to announce her arrival.
December making way for the nuances of January.
I am layering up.
Two pairs of socks.
Two pairs of slacks.
Fluffy hooded sweatshirt 
Over t-shirt and sweater.
Why do I live in this freezing tundra?
Whistling at the window, making frost.
Gorgeously done crystallized and pretty.
Beautiful winter day, and I am cozy.
Not tempted to move to Florida yet....

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My skin is getting old where it has weathered against the world
Yet, I sit comfortable with my soul at my side
Watching the past
From the view on my hill
Sometimes I cry.
Sometimes I laugh
With the tides 
Exposing jagged truths and embarrassing reality.
Still, the gentle Wind forgives
Sweeping in from the Great Sea
Blanketing the animals and the land
Smoothing the edges
Layering the heart like a pearl
Preparing to illuminate the spirit protected within....

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Layering stroke by stroke
the syllables of filtered mist's breath,
eastern winds spin like a circle of tropical
fish and flower beds on a lattice...
and the soft tresses of this air pours
on wayfarers sort of crystal beads new.
Then another circle whistles
inside my flesh, a sponge... an oasis,
bathing loin towel of morn dawning;
how its flavor speaks and lifts 
trinkets of jeweled drops
to lightly swirl away.... mid way.


Wind Contest: SKAT's
8/29/2015...

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