Come and see the bright wildflowers
Carpeting a sloping glen
And know that the desert endures!
Note how it's unrecognizable
Come March to the unaccustomed
When spring makes a spectacle
Except for some saguaros
That give the habitat away -
Standing on the ledge they chose.
Poppies and chuparosa beam -
Even the palo verdes celebrate
By tossing up confetti.
Steel angle-iron dates back ninety years,
the tower rises by a mirrored lake,
up top a ramp, like ski jumps, does appear,
sloping down to the shore without a break.
The lake is frozen flat by winter’s grip,
in some spots thick enough to drive a car,
and young people all around make the trip,
with tourists from hotels that are not far.
They climb the steps built on the ramp’s right side,
with blankets, sleds, toboggans old and new,
down the ramp in a rush the people slide,
joyous cries adding to the happy views.
For tens of yards across the ice they skid,
jump back in line to fly once more like kids.
I fear the hounds - ever they chase;
I must keep my pace or risk their overtake.
I fear the hounds, their hurtling pursuit;
I must watch my path to avoid rock and root.
I fear the hounds - ever they follow;
My feet must not fail me if I’m to make it to the morrow.
I hear the hounds, frantic as they bay,
My life the spoils they scrabble to claim.
I hear the hounds, and I wish to just rest;
I’m so weary of fleeing and giving my best.
I hear the hounds, and the temptation is great;
I slow my pace, and my end I embrace.
I see the hounds, and my blood runs cold;
They snarl with triumph and sprint to take hold.
I see the hounds - love of pride, love of me,
The easy path, wide and sloping in gentle degrees.
I see the hounds, and myself I revile:
Am I truly that tired, or just lacking the will for self-denial?
I flee the hounds; I lengthen my stride -
I’ll give them no easy victory tonight.
I flee the hounds - oh, they howl in rage;
They were just within reach of snaring their prey.
I flee the hounds through the brambles I run,
With faith that I’ll rest with the return of the Son.
A bright sunshine dawns
Joy prances in morning light
Laughter seals the air
A cheerful, cheery moment
A memory to engrave.
A startling grey cloud
Tears drip like showers of rain
Heart pinches with pain
The world feels bleak and hollow
Sorrow whispers in the soul.
Yet after the storm
A rainbow arches above
Hope begins to shine
The heart starts to patch up slow
Life resumes its normal train.
After a plain ride
The road starts upward-sloping
But descends again
To wit the high and low tide
The twists and turns of man`s life.
The shine of summer
Fans its fragrance in the air
Wiinter`s wild winds waft,
The two sides of the same coin
The light and darkness that dance,
Day fades into night
Moonless sky succeeds sunshine
Cold is gauged with warmth
A beeline journey of life
Would be dull, dry and dreary.
The seasons all change
Joy and sorrow interweave
A tapestry made
From moments bright and shady
Each thread adds to beauty`s depth.
Let`s greet all the feels
The sweet and the bitter taste
For both make us whole
A balanced life we`re given
let`s cherish all precious breath.
I live in an underground house
we built it eighteen years ago in a hill sloping south
from the road, our home is invisible
tree line of renegade shrubs hides us
our roof is four foot off the ground in the back
all of our windows and doors are in the front
the back is a solid wall of concrete
we live in the ground like moles and snakes
when the electricity goes out, it is a cave in here
darker than any place we had ever seen
best to take a nap when this happens
A cascade, shimmering, of rivulets that undulate,
Metaphor thalassic, richly blending at the pate.
Each silhouette of vitality, speaking with gentle weight,
On shoulders resting, an adornment, delicate.
Where inky depths meet sun-kissed golden thread,
Fair skin and russet lips, a harmony well-bred.
On sloping lids, where emerald hues are spread,
Completing thus, a visage subtly, richly said.
Every filament, a void of deepest night,
Pupils widen, mirroring its stark, endless plight.
Heartstrings tugged by fur of shadowed fall,
Where a blue throb pulses, binding all.
Miramichi Afternoon
The sloping shoulders of the river
tumble down rock on rock toward
the wind-riffled, slow flowing water.
Alder and grass creep down the slope
but will be ripped out once again by
the ice out floods of early spring.
The stones and haphazard boulders
are sun baked into featureless gray,
their bright minerals shrouded from view.
Land living things are more sparce here
and those present are paused by the heat.
Out on the water a dimple of a ring rise,
perhaps a salmon, more likely a trout.
A noiseless punctuation of somnolence.
Those curves speak
Down to the spine
Is like mountain peak
Undisturbed sloping pine
In eagle eye view it's good
A colorful landscape for free
A stunning winding road
An adorable woman I see.
The eagle circles high in the air, watching a mouse just leaving its lair.
With wide sloping turns he comes ever near hoping his prey won't know that he's there.
Blinded by the sun and driven by hunger the little mouse bewildered from its winter slumber, senses no fear.
But death is there, circling, watching, it waits.
The little mouse freezes sensing its fate. Can it make it to safety before it's too late?
The eagles' eyes narrow, its talons extend, the time for waiting has come to its end.
He dives, the mouse runs: zig zagging through the grass.
The play of life plays on, who of them will win?
If not this mouse, then another for the eagle on the wind.
The boat sways under a reddening sunset.
Is it wrong to wish for a Viking funeral,
to ponder a last journey West
into the dying light?
Strangers have always been my companions,
they intuit
the liquid, and inflammable nature
of this thing we do
- this poetry that is the life of us.
I could rest here in a free-floating skiff
adrift on a long warm wave of evening,
let the wooded lands and sloping meadows,
the smoke-stacked barge brimming harbors.
the patched up, river towns,
let them all slip on by
under the furled sails of evening clouds.
Just drift myself into the dusky flames,
as kindling for a starry night,
until the flowing waters enter a darkening fall,
or should I hitch this small craft
to an uncertain tomorrow,
maybe land upon another stump of reality,
one where imagination
can still idly play with fire?
Massive, monumental, mammoth, mighty, and marvelous
Has my magnificence been devoid of arduousness?
With an unknown collision of plates, as though two hearts
With folding, faulting, and fondling, nature creates my parts.
There's in me, life-like evolution and involution.
Volcanoes and earthquakes bring me inner persecution.
I try to grow tall with my steep, sharp, sloping, sliding sides.
Within my compassionate folds, any scared creature hides.
With snow capped peaks, valley glaciers, and river gorges
I've flora and fauna that are gorgeously glorious.
Caring cliffs call the creatures to the peaks to touch the sky.
Fountains, streams, and rivers from me towards the sea flow by.
Amidst strong stone shifting, rock rifting, and boulder bouncing
Amidst storms, rains, avalanches, landslides, and floods, astounding
I exist, as the plains and seas, a part of the cosmos.
When and how I'll rise or fall, the Almighty alone knows.
With no wings to fly…
and no legs to walk…
as an elevated portion of the Earth’s crust,
with sloping sides and a peak,
stuck to the ground…, I am found.
Appear so majestic…
But to the core, a rock I am…!
Fixed at one place,
to be the guest of others,
I can’t move an inch further!
Whistling winds, rustling leaves,
Frothing waterfalls are my bosom friends!
I take delight in being a host
for calling birds, pattering animals,
and the passionate Mountaineers,
who experience the bliss
of climbing my summit!
Who is devoid of a failing?
Contentment with what you have…,
results in living the life of beatitude!
It does require a change in your attitude!!
Written: November 03, 2023
__________________________________________
Pristine his soul and tamed to the core,
Who was semaphored by a sloping wave?
He escaped the safe harbor of the shore,
And pushed by each coxswain and crave.
God foretells a quaint future for humanity,
The hidden channel for thinking and action.
Beware of fools; this is a hazardous vanity,
He sought sanctuary in the chilly reaction.
Underground stars emerged victorious,
And the ocean served as an awful grave.
He is surely a compassionate star, glorious,
People who pulled the cast first are brave.
Their moorings have above welcoming past,
Ventured out into the sea, lacking a map.
Liberty is the root of every storm and blast,
A span is the breadth of the Earth's sea gap.
And their daily unrest is merely a brief respite,
Mixed with man's untrustworthy spiritual kernel.
Desires lacking a shore, hidden and desperate,
Quite ardent, open to faith or clan air, eternal.
Merrily, my soda hopped, skipped
…rolled merrily along,
jumping hurdles of falling leaves,
sloping t’wards steep driveway.
The bottle, fizzing, shaken up -
merrily, as I watched
it’s descent, hoping it would stop,
not hop the boundary.
My neighbor, not the sort to laugh.
Congregation of leaves
held it back, so no disaster.
Merrily I retrieved.
Ivory pilots night's idyllic sighs,
like timely climbing sky--untying cries,
lights espying irises gliding rise.
Evening lean sleeping,
beacon competing,
concedes pleasing keen scenes,
appealing leaping,
sincere esteeming,
green treat sweetly redeems.
Trailing rays draping shapes,
maple framing trace,
claiming plains facing lakes,
bravely wades gauged space.
Green fields teasing,
--thieving seething,
weeds beseech release,
feel they cheated,
leaves defeated,
ease sense peaceful wreaths.
Yellow roses,
showy floats,
potato groves,
grown rows notes,
tomatoes hold,
closely wove,
flowering show,
sloping globe,
drove lonesome road,
banjo tone,
broken myPhone,
coasting home.
Reeling breezes freely sweep ...
weakened peels, eternal sleep ...
green trees reach needed relief,
complete healing frees fig leaf.
Humans muse Cupid,
blew flutes,
spooking unicorns,
smooth tunes moody blooms,
grew blue,
jewel unique forms.
Severe events fleecing green dreams,
precede teaching seeding extremes.
Sub Categories
Looking for the formal definition, structure, and history of this poetry form? Visit the Poetry Dictionary entry below. Then return to explore how PoetrySoup members bring the form to life through their own poems.