Short Livening Poems

shadows in the woods
exotic and erotic
livening the day...

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Poetry is fun. Happy and delightful.
She is joy – inspiration and insightful.

Poetry is hungry to show her words on a wall.
She can be evil, a horrible downfall.

Poetry is music, livening up a dance.
Whether people like it, entirely up to chance....

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chipper chapper bitter batter
bird speak livening the forest
I strain my ears to hear their sounds
None of them satisfactorily captured
In verse or poems in a satisfactory way
bird peak simply cannot be duplicated 
For our alphabet does not speak beak....

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a musical trio
livening up the prairie
enthusiastic beatnik dog on bongo drums
terrifically talented tambourine-playing Tomcat
Romanian beauty with flashing eyes with a ukulele
people arrive to sing along and dance
it feels like the seventies
Woodstock sixty years later...

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water rushing in the brook
livening up the forest

dainty dew drops on verdant grass
lady bugs fly

daffodil leads the flower parade
sharing brilliant yellow

robins and cardinals
sing today's praise songs

brightly colored tulips
showing off their Dutchiness

lilac's unique fragrance
opening up the gateway to summer...

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Mama mallard
Shaped like a well-sailored ship
From Columbus' voyage
With a flipped up tweakable tail

Enjoying motherhood
Followed by five ducklings,
Quacking and cavorting
Livening up pond

Feathers shining, 
Proud beak,
Sharp black eyes, 
missing nothing.

Helping ducklings 
Gain confidence they will need
to raise their own ducklings....

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Should doors close when I journey inward
questing for tints of  awakening
to free myself  from your past ravages-
and accept this burden of unrest.

Should doors close against my earnest will
as midnight tucks you in foams of sheet;
I stand undaunted by ghastly thoughts
Livening your numb heart, should doors close.


Repeat The Phrase Contest: Nette Onclaud
June 10, 2020...

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Each season comes with unique challenges
and blessings that affect me countless ways.
I’ve found that autumn woos my pensive side
the most. I seek an isolated place
where only nature makes a welcome sound—
the rustle of the boldly colored leaves 
as they descend, embellishing the path;
the breeze that wakens meditative thoughts,
the woodland creatures, unaware of me
but livening the setting that inspires
the inkling of a poem yet to be....

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