Short Rafts Poems

Emerged from the sea
      I have in skin its savor
       in  mind words rafts, sails...

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K-een
C-omposer

C-rafts
A-crostic
B-y
R-ightfully
I-mplementing
L-ovely
L-ines
A-bout
S-weetness

Topic: Birthday of KC Cabrillas (December 17) 
Form: Vertical Monocrostic...

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Oceans breathe calm
rafts of jellyfish
breeze on paper lanterns

Piles creak under
wave's rise, blue arch weight
stick ,slow slaps, picket fence

Bowed rod reveals
tug of sea's intent
empty pail sits on pier...

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A yellow moon rises huge
over great rafts of tundra
near the seventieth parallel:
twelve hundred miles to the Pole.
Under a faint Borealis
a young grey wolf drinks 
from a long tire pond
on the road once used
as a shortcut to Sitka...

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Dew ballet stirs animate on fragrant morning air
Acidic steam ere ancient winds admit first sight of dawn
Marsh rafts bearing saddened reeds through mangrove-sheltered heat
Perspiring forest greens' forced breaths as night so wetly fades....

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A world of sunshine 
Awaits the silver chirpy 
skylark perched on grey  scale branch 
as golden mornings 
usher in their spectral hue
that filter through the seamless 
mesh or float of rafts 
on green leaf bird house chant flock 
whose silken strain enchants me...

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Be still my heart
To know true peace;
Joy vp rafts bold art
In pleasant ease.


Think upon cheer
To bless and heal;
Love lives right here
To focus will.


Lovely each day
That comes with dawn;
Be on your way
To seize the morn.




Leon Enriquez
21 December 2016
Singapore...

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how long ago was it
...being as knot...

i passed away as
...uninformed...

a party of some nothing-event
...that did not register...

in something of a flow
...called time...

in which i'm aware of
...the being of constants...

rafts in the changing
...manifestation called time...

stan sand...

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crawling through tall green grass
making miles of tunnels
in fields all around

a lake, the yearly rain makes
floating on rafts
crafted from grandpa's woodpile

hot brown hills of slick dry grass
slid and sped down
in cardboard boxes

old knotted oak tree
climb up like a ladder
jump into leaves piled high

acorns falling
my childhood pastimes
wonderful memories of home...

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""""""""(((('''''''''''


auburn light tickling mystic marshlands
on thin rafts kissing noon's delight
husky day  lifts grasses’ hems
cradling petals on palms,
herons dance astray
a dizzy feast
all flowers
soaking
wine

""""""""""""""""""

all rights reserved
            ©



for Brian Strand's "Poem From Year First Year... Contest"
from nette onclaud...

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I draw a waking breath,
draw back sleeps curtains.

I'm drawing an image of myself
as a gray decay of distance,
a long swim away
from a day of youth,
where a boy once drew his name
into golden sands.

Sea shore, sea shores,
high-tides drawing ever nearer;
must I draw another dawn
onto a fast fading page

or shall I go open a window,
breath deep enough to clear my sight
of any more sinking life-rafts?...

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If Thou attempts to lend a foul touch of façade after dumping me in the pitiful pits full of gravel that Thou so soullingly buried me in. 

Than I shall rise with glory & spit on Thy’s shoes.

To be translucent against Thee rafts and struggles of evil, 

As for evil is sensing karma’s grand shovel digging each and one of us out with such honorable praise,

Heading steady on a straight light path of new beginnings....

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wooden sea- rafts float
  
     as the hardest beads

        the mildest prayers

offer layered dahlias

   for Holy Queen's regatta




~ Dedicated to Our Lady of Fatima's 90th Anniversary
 POTD/POTW
~ For Richard Lamoreaux's Poem of the Day Contest
-------
I was pleasantly glad to receive both awards for this
short form. It may have touched the spirit of those
who celebrate Mary's devotion as a Mother.  Resubmitted 4/11/2019...

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Logging with friends. 
Longing to receive a wood gift card. 
We cut trees, 
We make rafts, 
We ride them. 
We find we have much to say 
And with wood, a house to stay. 
We gather round a campfire 
Sitting on wood stumps 
With our jolly ol' boys, belly bumps. 
We share a merry Christmas. 
We smell pine tree incense. 
We open our presents in the out back. 
To nature we give back 
The seeds that keep on giving 
That spreads with a animal track....

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After Derek Walcott’s Poem

We have this in common
Sandy spit
Empty hours to walk alone

Needing to find use
For the forgotten
In the eyes of other people

Washed up
Softens all tones
To sandblasted blue glass

Eyes, drawn out toward sky
The driftwood branch has stars
Or rafts toward uncertain lands

Toward a fire pit nest
where paper cups makes castles
and feathers, a reedy sail

for those whose wings
have fluttered far and long
and settled down
on a temporary, final beach....

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