Short Loam Poems

orange daylilies
bright trumpet of gray morning
deer tracks in the loam...

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Slick, moisture, refresh
forest floor's seedlings, nurture,
peat loam soil diet


Thanks to Raul Moreno's inspiration:)...

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Since first the polished acorn lulled in loam

it has borne the weight of sun

The leaves it birthed are  gone...

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Bulbs
Buried
Beneath rich loam
Anticipation

Hot 
Pink Hue
Hyacinth blooms
Extraordinary

Watch
Walking
Around the beds
Anticipation...

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Storm

Summer sky boils
Mother natures way
Fierce ozone and loam

Sway and thrash
Relentless rain falls
Sun bright flashes

Hypnotic cadence this sky
Towers of air
Gravity brings to earth...

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silent under loam
your hand charcoal
squeezing the dark
between the stars

you hide

under our feet
a fouled stick, skin
we are heavy
along cow ways

you are there,
always here, you
touble stones
and evening...

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Anklecut but running;
cornchildren at break,
dust and more dust.

Flight the cutting
of a lost sanctuary,
legless with shock

at life turned upside.
Subble the blunt cut,
the wait of the expectant
loam, under the farrow....

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my little round sleepers
with lots of coats on, mud
huggers with a tribal bottom

perfectly lined up at the
bus stop of spring, soft
under cold loam, a miracle

despite the banality of hidden
numbers; time to drink tea
as I wait in a cooling garden...

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It would be like a Cessna hitting a mountain;
Weltschmerz; rain falling on a tin roof.
So let me work my garden with burnt hands,
Thoughtless as a spade in cold loam.
Let all words fail as the day reduces.
We all love the holes in which we put our heads....

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mushrooming loam 
amber and red daub the sludge 
with water and glaze. 
stirred by the whispering breeze
sharing their stealthy karma

written: February 18, 2022


A Brian Strand Tanka Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: Brian Strand...

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Will I be somber?
Will you look at skies
as each your own?
Would you take my hand
And with me roam?
Will your skin be as smooth and silky 
As porcelain loam?
Will the nights be long,
And the moon be full?
Will our children rise
like giants from the sands?...

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drowned in the drumming wetlands
we wade through pools of glass
             and begging loam

as young fish we tumble
             in running water
             a child`s palm

just one with water, the rain;
we have the wash and ebb
             in our eyes...

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Satin flowers droop
in gray wind, shadows streaming
through a slate forest.
Clouds are smoky foliage
blocking marigold sun rays.

Bright umbrellas bloom
in summer's sudden cloudburst.
Pewter raindrops fall
like pebbles on concrete loam,
dark stems arcing a rainbow....

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Known to stone and loam
Black with sodden wood,
              the rain`s heart

Au fait with clay and ash
Burnt like a brandmark into clay
              a tree`s burial

Launched into a night like tar
Full of fallen lights and stars
              the taste of darkness...

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The first six days;
a cold stage
waiting for snowdrop

orphans;then the rest,
the sky of constant sorrow
breaking thanks to brittle

light.The white bones
devoid of recall,the crust
of cold loam hanging

alone.Travel this way
again.missing on a thrown road.
It waits....

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Wicked winds and wandering mists,
Moonlit hours and secret trysts,
Spells and charms; unhallowed loam,
Stealthy do the witches roam.

Boiling cauldrons, smoke and fire,
Fallowed fields, dearth and dire,
Ungodly grants that demons give—
O’ thou must suffer not a witch to live....

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In fertile loam soil rising
From railroad ties aligned new,
When spring rains and warm sun come
I will plant petunias, pink and blue. 

written January 12, 2022
[a Lind30 (7/7/7/9) format invented
by Poet Robert Lindley and introduced
on Poetry Soup]...

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Jade scythes
of areca fronds
slice slate air;
Medusa's snakes writhe.
Pewter arrows pierce
my garden.
I sit beneath an eave
pondering
the nascent storm.
Geraniums cloister
like vestal butterflies
in darkening loam
as a multitude
of emerald tufts
bend on the fleeing lawn.

5/12/18...

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unholy earth, dark with stein
unformed loam at birth;
a worded child of mud,

fingernail skinned blacklack eyes
peek out of a ball of wet slam,
a groundling that waves like a black branch

across the sleeping fields,
see a shadow under the cold grass,
near in sight under a crust of frost...

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Fall Opens the Door  (Haiku)

morning sun dapples
trees in a  polka-dot dress
shines soft green and light

chill hint of autumn
smells of summer, loam, and pause
visions of winter

sap returns from leaves
to store deep in the tree heart
yellow, red, orange, burnt

Trisha Sugarek from
The World of Haiku...

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planting 
the staple of life
new beginnings

seedlings
nurtured by natures flow
future hopes

nestling 
in the loam and water
sustenance

farmers
weeding the paddies
a crane forages

greens arise
to greet morning rays
honking geese

thrashing 
out tiny grains
happy tummies

...

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Abode of the avatars and the demigods,
I am ageless, calm and deep rooted
Indulged in the timeless meditations, I find vigor in serenity
Covered in the blanket of loam, rocks and snow
countess trees of life are sheltered on my back
The sun, the stars, the wind and the skies are all my allies
O mortal, I am just not conquerable...

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The garden cheers with wonder 
Over the bees that wander 
For, the touch of their sweet kiss 
Pours the loam some rains of bliss 

The lilies sway with grace 
Over sunlights warm embrace 
While the rays of sun's blow 
Give the roses a gorgeous glow

G or T personification poetry contest 
1st place 
Judged September 2, 2023...

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Drowned in the drumming wetlands
We wade through pools of glass,
                     wet smoke and sacrifice

A summer rain, warm as loam
As young fish we tumble
                     in pools of standing water

Solvent with rain, a child`s wet hand,
Diverted by the sea in our eyes,
                     we are more than water....

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What joy to see the end of winter days
as snowdrops rise with bells of ermine white,
the signal that winter has reached its end.
More hours of precious daylight now appear
and no longer the shroud of gloomy grey.
At last we wake up from that long cold night
and look forward to seeing saffron show
when from the black loam purple petals rise.  
...

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