Short Windowsills Poems

curious little humans
attacking flies in mid air
tapping the air with tiny paws
sitting on windowsills
watching birds...

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Peering though their windowsills 
Their diamond studded eyes glaring 
wicked laughs whispered as I pass them
heeled sandals strapped Black 
and leather combat boots
gleam and glow in sarcasm
never to be approached, unless custom made....

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I welcome the silence of falling snow
  the virginity of pure crystalline flakes
    gathering to frost my windowsills

But I watch while snuggled beside a fire
  a cup of cocoa and soft rock playing
    A warm hand to hold is all I need...

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many daffodils
beautiful on windowsills
narcissus appeals

one yellow divine
single or double refine
purist flower mine

dainty and sublime
standing hours at a time
waving in their prime

*For Carol Browns "What's The Buzz" Haiku contest...

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Tulips fronting daffodils
  Azaleas in pots on windowsills

Rows of rainbow chrysanthemums
  Mingle with orange geraniums

Bright pink peonies ready to pop
  A bird of paradise sits on top

Still ~ Red roses always make my day
  Arrange them in a sweet bouquet...

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I have been waiting without knowing,
my breath curled like a child
in the wardrobe of my lungs.
I have been waiting,
my hands resting idly on doorknobs, windowsills,
on the blankets of a bed still made,
staring at the bright, young globe of the sun,
staring without hope....

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   Perched in a leafy tree
     sipping on poetry

   eyes trained on rolling hills
     toggling ‘tween windowsills 

   points of vantage as yet unimagined
     heretofore ne’er examined  

   Dare one say ‘the thrill is gone’
     ~ leave him listless lie on languid liquid lawns
...

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golden beams of dawn
are glinting amber prairies--
smiles of daffodils

enchanting day break
are red, white, purple tulips--
pride of early spring

waltzing lilac winds
charm violet hyacinth--
gems on windowsills

June 4, 2020
Placed 1st: Fresh Traditional Haiku by JCB Burl
Placed 2nd: Brian's Select 5 Contest...

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Blackout 

I sit in a blackout
What can I do
Wind is a howling
The rain's angry too

Windowsills rattle
High up on my floor 
I live on the seventh 
And hear every roar

I'm starting to find 
A still quietness
Mixed with a thunder
Of solitudeness

I sit in a blackout
What will I do
I'll sit here and bask 
In my gratitude

Bill MacEachern December 18, 2023...

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This week, snow is expected in the hills
A bitter cold Halloween like I remember
Thinking about it gives me the chills
Mostly the looming winter heating bills
It’s time to caulk up the windowsills
Against a blustery, blizzardly November
This week, snow is expected in the hills
A bitter cold Halloween like I remember.

Written October 16, 2022...

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Crystal sands,
eager fingers digging,
bounty from the shoreline carry home.

On display,
gracing my windowsills,
dancing 'round with the sun's reflection.

Exquisite,
ridged in sea tones and hues,
every nuance bears the froth of tides.

Memories;
each one tells a story
of adventure sought,of life and love.

By Deb Wilson
for Nette Onclaud's contest "Paralellogram de Crystaline"...

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We talk small in big spaces
Leaving the words around us empty
 helium balloons floating
Wasn't my voice atmospheric
It's disappearing into the clouds
My muffled thoughts, my meaningless mumbling 
Enter the room before me now
 lagging emotions left in the windowsills 
The sighs escaping my lips etching their homes in the fog forming on the glass
Vanishing quickly
 these fleeting feelings
And me always dragging behind


...

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Succulent lined windowsills 
Coffee seasoned air
Crimson colored daffodils 
Home, rich of boho flair

Silky, velvet, puppy tails
Pup breath to peer the vibe
Pleasing sights, delightful smells
Assure me, I’m alive

A familiar lilt, treats my ears 
A melody, so fine
Hushing all my pesky fears
All demons left behind

 A joyful state, my happy place
Curled tightly, in a ball
There truly is no other space
I care to be at all...

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With lilting tongue and glittering eye, the Celtic potter chortles by.
His clay-browned hands delicately placing, kiln God's on shelves and window facings.

Minute figures of Sun and Moon, mystical men with beard and rune;
sheep wandering on grassy hills, all on clay placards for windowsills.

And tossed about through roof and rafter hung, pink and purple, from pilasters,
were all the glorious flowers' of Spring, saved, dust covered, on dangling strings....

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