Short Rustled Poems

Leaves rustled
i thought somebody is there
In my head...

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A cluster of leaves,
Rustled by enchanting winds:
Music of the Fall....

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Autumn...
Hues of dry leaves
Falling in blissful sway;
Rustled parkland frenzied-cold breeze
Winter...

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the tree, bare
in mid-summer
branches withered
bark peeling
a condemned sigh
rustled through
her brittle leaves
I had to look away...

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There once was a foxy young poet,
With a lawn and no one to mow it.
So she rustled some ewes,
And then ate them in twos -
And as for the grass, she’ll re-grow it....

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Cattle rustler’s name - Persnickety Pete
Never rustled, just lured cattle with treats
   For a rustler, a freak
   Pete was a real sneak
If treats didn’t work, he’d pull a cow’s teats...

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Leopard narrowed his yellow eyes for the night
His body is stretched across upper branch tight
He snores easily, but is awakened by a small boor
This small tasty mammal rustled across the jungle floor...

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The leaves rustled behind
The flowers swayed in the wind.
The document was signed.

The light dimmed.
The post pinned.

The diamond glistened,
The patron listened.
The trees swayed.
Portrait likes portrayed....

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…Money…in a voice that rustled.
No sir, I do not have any money.
How about getting a job?
…Change…in a voice that creaked.
Sorry sir, I don’t make the rules.
How about running a campaign?
…Help…in a voice that trailed.
Sir, how do I do that?...

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On wings of sunlight,
Enchanting sonnets of peace;
Composed by the morn.
·
Rustled by the leaves,
Carried by the footless winds:
Echoed by the breeze.
·
Poems of the dawn,
Written by the morning dew:
Passionate...fresh odes....

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The sky rumbled
The wind whispered
Trees swayed
Leaves rustled
Birds happily flew around 
The sea bubbled 
Faster waves raged
Vessels swayed
Fishes joyfully leaped
From the blues you surfaced
Such a heavenly sight you formed 
That I fell, tumbled and rolled
All for you....

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When a man understands the brilliance of nature, his voice is thirsted for like the babbling brook, and has an inherent influence, that is as relished as the wind rustling the leaves of a tree.



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Squirrel rustled leaves,
red maples in abundance.
burning embers glow.

light snow in the air
a leaf lies beyond the flames
maybe solar gleam

every willow leaf
tumble returned to its limb.
sorrow butterfly


Written: November 17, 2021...

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It is a living thing
And life-giving.
This water, a time echoes
First raised from seed.

Greenly rustled up to
A bowed world through.
Of each herbivorous thirst.
Goat's; bison's; deer's.

Manoeuvres to the end
Boulder, sharp bend;
As any irrepressive
Force for good can....

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It seems such a waste
Yellow roses on display
In a crystal vase
Not to be touched by warm skin
Or rustled by waning wind 

Wouldn't it be sweet
Yellow roses in her hair
Tickled by spring air
Like an overdue reprise
Petals scattered in the breeze


For Rick's "Tanka x2" contest...

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So for a laugh, I thought I would buy Mo a cockatiel
Even sent it to a speech therapist, to learn the spiel

Soon it arrived in the post, and made itself at home
Where Mo was more than happy to let it freely roam

Days passed and from the cockatiel, not one squeak
Until a day it rustled up and said to Mo, tweet tweet

 . . . *o*...

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Come on strong child
with forced happiness
all you can try to do 
is be a pee green insect,
vestiges of grass
betray a once forlong child
All your dreams are rustled in the wind
as the old man opens the gates
of despondency
Do you wish to hold the key
to being sixty
and those around you are now dust
as you are assured of your youthful angst...

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It wasn't much a lengthy walk.
It' only served my weight.
I'd walk as far as feet could walk
and all my muscles freight.

Ahead of me the final stop
Where coffee'd be my fate.
To finish off a feeble walk.
One suited for the bait.

Then rustled to a tired state
where all my hopes were high.
Arriving at a Horton's last
would bring a coffee sigh....

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There standing with a hill to view
Above a stream were just two
About little flowers, purple, white
Ever fading went the light
Evening air rustled the leaves
They stood close in the breeze
Her blue sapphires gleaming
His heart faster beating
The time was now
He took a bow
Her hand in his
The question is
Him to her and her to him
Love shines forever, never dim...

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The piano grumbled at his touch,
Playing fortissimo on command...
Nerves of steel snapping a string.

Ambitious to a fault, practicing the night into alarm,
Lizst spilled from the printed page
Like sour milk for a feral cat.

As he rose from the bench, music in hand,
An audible whispered relief rustled the curtains
And silence cradled the grateful room....

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"Chilly Air" 

I ponder on the things I have done; 
   the choices that I have made. 

As autumn has begun to change the green of nature, 
   to have a hint of cadmium red.

The air has a chill that cools my lungs 
   and puts goose bumps on my arms.

I reflect on the autumns that have past, 
   and how I rustled through the neat rows of fallen leaves....

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There's nothing like a pressured toot
to get you out of bed.
The moving sheets, the rustled beat;
of flatulence ahead.

That very sound to wake you up
and start your day off right.
With little push to shake you up
and mark your way in flight.

That everything you go to do
will be as night before.
When all you ate was beans and franks
and thoughts were farting yore....

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The sunlight appeared in the window,
Reflected on the branch of the tree,
Talking to us silently like god on a spring day,
The wind rustled the trees carefully,
The pictures on the shelf companions to nature,
The lamp and chairs standing like statues,
Books and magazines teachers of excellence,
The computers hosts to conversation and communication.

Author: Gwen von Erlach...

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We are all but falling stars
Shedding light across the sky
Nights inky canvas brought to life
Morning dew the joy we cry
 
Silence bleed the coming song
Our breeze in rustled leaves
Whispered grace to sooth the fire
Lost youth for which we grieve
 
Starlight twinkle before the dawn
To sleep with each new day
And rise anew as dusk draws near
Kissing the sun as it slips away...

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in shady glens the wild iris bloom 
like jewels strewn on dark velvet

in shadows the forest keeps her secrets
life abounds in its silence 
the fawn waits patiently

leaves rustled in the wind-early man walked softly

close your eyes and dream
of places untouched by man
the future is now



Barbara Gorelick
written for Constance La France and her contest
4-in-1...

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