Short Tendril Poems

the morning tendril
on the hands and face with the
windows of the kiss...

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One brave green tendril
    in a carpet of pine needles
           early spring...

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Single tendril leaps for 
     bachelorhood while still con-
            joined to the mother lode....

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Aroma of dawn
Whispering into nostrils
Your crimson tendril
_____________________________
6/1/2017...

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climb weeping willow
slide down its tendril to fence
hit the pavement in ascent

5/11/2022...

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blooming
of Daisy
Spring garden bed
tendril kisses descend
flower

3/1/2022
Bite Size Poem no.38
Sponsor: Line Gauthier...

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Mind like a tendril green
In the inspiration of the sun
Climbing walls unseen
Where common daffodils run
On a ledge of heaven, the angels' form to ken....

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Grief is not a straight line
it meanders down
echo cobbles
hiding in
black shadow forest
tendril fingertips
gnarled and knotted
pull you back
to a rememberance
of the gone...

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for any second of her happiness
yeah Shakespeare up here
Take this
What tea is the tee in the tea hee
i twirled a twine of twisted tendril
troughs of would trace tree face nots and knots to be
wood i notice...

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on tip of a wisp
as it bevels and bloats
streamlined scribbles etching a note
upturned waves collapsing
in cotton bobs
greys and embers mating a mistake
ethereal tendril veins knitting patters undone
phoenix fogs missed mist
of almost pink...

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A cold air
billowed over the threshold
dew spat itself
on blueing leather
its sting exhilarating
the pulling tendril finger tips of the sun
as it pulls itself from the shadow horizon
and diamond grass
splinters kaleidoscope fragments
and breath talons
deep within....

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your kisses burnt in the
banks of the
holy ri-
ver
sprouts and grow tall
embracing green
tendril twining trees
your sighs buried in the
depth of the  belly of
the remorseful earth
rises and enhance  the clouds
weeping sky
rain in the flowers
of my down-
trodden
grave...

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  I’ve been deceived by golden buttercups~
dipped in chamomile incensed rain,
while butterflies slumber on poisonous petals,
oblivious to the weathered garden of greed,
where I’ve seen more than words can tell,
for not every vibrant vine nor tender tendril serves honey.  ...

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Knock! Knock!! Knock!!! 
Fright hit on my breath
like a prey with the predator 

shoo! Shoo!! Shoo!!! 
Even in my place of bed
seen has a egg shell
In a black man's world
I tried to be tendril like
but dwelling with cynics
can I have a grip of life? 
Days are dying
my palm is empty
like a cast net with no fish....

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A shaft of light, this spine.
Bounded by bones,
draped in rottables.
Pathway of consumables,
the lone remarkable.

Still, I hold straight
the light.
Still, I insist on
this dent
this where
this place
on my cushion.

At start, spine
straight.
Incense stick
straight.

By now, spine
straight.
Incense:
tendril & ash....

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I don’t recognize myself;
this is not uncommon,
but he seems to me
like a white root 
suddenly exposed to sooty clouds;
a tendril unearthed
by quarrying shadows. 
A grainy tinge shades vacant eyes.
In the distance, tenement towers - 
grey tusks in a monochrome sky.
A callus of light is seen in the distance
it reveals just enough of him
to spook the dead....

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Drizzle drip the rain slips
Down from the eaves 
To water a seed
Pitter patter
Meandering shower
Sullen clouds
Jacob's ladder
Seasons change
Sustaining towers
Tendrils reach
Birthing a flower
[]
a tiny tendril
Fragile and pure
Unraveling beauty
In a stunning allure
Leaning eastward
The sun crawls to show
Vibrant velvet colors
In a spellbound glow...

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You are brighter than noon day,
A beautiful rose that keep blossoming in the courtyard of the gardener,
Who for all the world tends it with loving care.
You are a regal flower robed in pretty purple petals,
That tame the gleamer of sun to shine in the sky,
A gentle soft tendril that lovingly caress,
A memory that is worth remembering,
Every second ,
Every minute,
Every hour,
Of my day....

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I am lost in a tangled wood
Reaching for a rope like thread
Two fingers balancing
One, two, three….
Like ballerina legs
Gliding along the tendril floor
Inching forward, halted
By a knotty carrefour

The dense foliage
Throwing shadows around the cracks
Guiding God’s fingers
Illuminating the furcate tracks
A judgment, God or Heart…
Trust or regret…
One path forward
One path back...

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Carnivore lay in wait like,
the feline among the sparrows.
“Come sip my nectar,
sweet syrupy elixir
it’s free for the taking,
a desirous sensation
to lull you to sleep”
sings Darlingtonia.

Within ruby pitcher,
tendril awaits,
a cavernous throat
dining on insects,
perhaps a frog or 
tree shrew
for the gullet
of unassuming Cobra Lily,
pitfall trap.


...

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How many more times
Will the body count rise.
How many more times
While truth is denied.
How many more times
Will the rocket bombs fly
In the dark of night
To rain death from the sky.
And how many more times
Must little children die.
As their families ask why
With tears of despair filled eyes.
How many more times
On a fine tendril line.
How many more times
Can human kind survive....

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Seeping heavy under my skin
Shivering inception
Calming from its wisping caress
Tenderly soothing 

Reaching with tendril like fingers
Lithe and satin
Permeating through my veins
Enveloping essence

Taming the maelstrom within me
Purity embracing
Divulging the rains of promise
Cleansing shame

Defusing against the flow of time
Forever young
Standing open in naked candor
Unselfish passion...

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An 11 year old student poet is composing this poem.
 I am only the teacher


The old willow tree stands tall and hangs low
Each tendril, a memory dipping into the black waters of forget
A masterpiece burning in the past
The body of the willow shading itself 
From the maternal glow of the sun
With thin withering arms
Buttercups embrace the glow
But the willow does not
For it burns her with regret...

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Winter can oft seem cruel,
Her proud head held high to rule.
Will her reign end on this side of forever?

But the trees left forsaken and dead,
Will lift up their whispering heads.
Nothing can last forever.

A tendril of hope carries on,
After darkest night comes the dawn.
The cycle of time continues forever.

Never say all hope is lost,
In Spring there is bound to be frost.
Let love remain in your heart forever....

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in the pupil of her eye
don't know if its lost or trapped
not sure if anything has moved
around her
hold a fleck in emerald moat
to stop from drowning
Jack seriously move over
Tyrannically Titan
----------------------i
----------------------c
maybe the wisps are dancing
maybe they are praising her
like that glint
of light
that refuses
to leave
holding on with tendril
fingertips
this poem never left her eyes
like me....

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