Perspire, poor perspicacious?
Tenacious at the quick?
Sanguine, solemn, sagacious?
Lost lighter wheel, fine flick?
Yes, and when the autumn rain:
Turns the place to mud:
Twister. Terrible terrain.
Coat shed. Drawn in blood.
Chairs black walnut, open backs.
In a circle rest.
Fine feather-cut, trains on tracks.
Ash and smoke, pour west.
O canopy of crimson!
Thy ladies fair sparks blow!
Diadem diamond, honey dun!
Hummingbird, fly low!
Marble top, mahogany.
Tables outward curve.
Tracing white as destiny.
Vilified the verve.
Iron spouts conical?
Fire bellows breathing in.
Candelabra, port and pall.
Triangles of tin.
Project beyond thy sockets!
Blue star-shaped ornaments!
Dark night shattered, fired rockets!
Soldiers out of tents!
Concentric, calm, chiral.
Two-sided, layered thick.
Videos gone viral.
Stump oak and hickory stick.
He starts with the easy pieces~
the corners, the edges, the parts of life
that stay where they’re put.
But the sky refuses to behave.
Its fragments lift from the table,
hovering above his hands
like small constellations
waiting for him to remember
where they once belonged.
He doesn’t look startled anymore.
Some puzzles do that~
they rise when you’ve asked too much of gravity,
when the unfinished part of your life
decides it’s tired of lying flat.
He reaches for a star-shaped piece,
but it drifts upward,
as if the cosmos has opinions
about how he should finish himself.
He laughs under his breath,
the way someone laughs
when they’re almost ready
to admit the truth.
The truth is this:
he’s not assembling a picture.
He’s assembling a question.
Every floating shard of sky
is a reminder that the universe
isn’t something you complete~
it’s something you join
one piece at a time.
Written 5th Aug 2026 for weekly poetry competition. August 3rd 2026 to August 9th 2026
I am a tall American Sweetgum Tree
Star- shaped leaves colours of purple yellow and red
Graceful ~ loved by all
Robins land on my branches
Sweetly serenade me
Songs of joy sharing nature’s love
Children skip round me giggling
I am head tree guarding the Magical Forest
Unicorns, fairy’s ~ even goblins love me
People come hug me and tell me they love me
Majestic mountains bow to me
Magical kingdom is place to be
Castle glistens in the sunshine
At night owls hoot to me
Lights surround me showing my beauty
I love all seasons especially winter
Snow dazzles and sparkles on me
People from all over world photograph me
I stand at the edge of stillness,
a turquoise lake so calm it seems carved
from the breath between my thoughts.
the hills gather close, gentle silhouettes
holding the world in a loose embrace,
and the trees shimmer with
star-shaped leaves
that seem otherworldly
ahead, the moon lifts itself
like a golden clock face,
Roman numerals glowing faintly
as if time has chosen
to reveal its secret architecture.
its reflection drifts across the water,
a glowing ribbon of light
that stretches toward me~
not as a path,
but as a question
my heart already knows
but cannot answer.
in this place,
the hills, the star-leafed trees,
the turquoise stillness,
and the clock-moon
all seem to agree
that time is gentler
than we remember~
a soft turning,
a luminous pause
held in the hands of water.
A young woman steps into the woods,
its canopy caressing her,
the air around her
vibrating with stillness.
She pauses beneath a gnarled tree~
its branches covered
with star-shaped leaves
each one flickering
with prophecy.
Above her,
the crescent moon hangs low,
its lunar breath offering her
a secret.
She holds a basket of stars
in her hands,
each one glowing
with the possibility
of becoming something
she has not yet dared to imagine.
She stands there pondering…
not the path behind her,
nor the one ahead,
but the quiet question
the forest asks
when it senses
she’s come seeking
more than direction~
she’s come seeking
the shape of her own radiance.
And in that stillness,
the star-leaves murmur,
the moon leans nearer,
and the basket brightens
as though answering her
in a language
she is only now
beginning to remember.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The oven hums,
a steady hymn.
Like December's first snow,
flour drifts across the countertop.
Her hands~
kneading, rolling, pressing~
leave maps in the dough.
I trace them with a cookie cutter,
star-shaped, blunt at the edges.
Powdered sugar hangs in the air,
a sweet ghost.
We laugh,
and it sticks to our cheeks,
to the aprons she sewed from fabric scraps,
to the memories we don’t yet know
we’re making.
The timer rings.
The cookies glow.
And for a moment,
the whole world is warm.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Midwinter’s blush—not born of frost,
but coaxed from shadows when days shrink
to slivers. A star-shaped constellation
pressed between panes, each scarlet leaf
a silent flare against winter’s gray.
Some call it flor de Nochebuena,
flower of the Holy Night~
as if crimson could hold reverence,
as if a plant remembers angels
or the weight of a child’s breath.
Yet here it stands: unbothered by theology,
a bold geometry of joy.
Watch how its gold-tipped stamens
ignite like votives~
not praying, simply being light.
I bought you star shaped lillies of blue,
just to tell you that I love you.
Abundance of daisies,
Delicate white petals,
Leaves of green,
A meadow, so beautiful,
A joy to be seen.
Star shaped white faces,
Gently swaying in the breeze,
They appear everywhere,
In fields and amongst trees.
The joy of nature.
Wild and wonderful,
So graceful and silent,
Daisies so delicate and small,
A field full of daisies,
Such a lovely view,
I made a little daisy chain,
Especially for you!!
Star shaped, seriously sassy
Nodding needle-nosed, light chassis
Capped column, looking conniving
Irregular yet interesting without striving
Decidedly diabolically dendrite-dated
Practically perfect, placidly plated
Snowflakes have six points or six sides
Depending on moisture in clouds and temp outside
mint green Christmas and
star shaped poinsettias point
at the golden hour
red plant revelry
and hoot owl's quiet in snow
mauve sun is setting
pretty centerpiece
where loved ones gather laughing
joy of the season
the scarecrow leaning
calls to mind the songbird days
in burgundy hat
celebrating Him
and jack frost is at the door
flower of christmas
Sweet scented, star shaped,
Summer sedative, silky spike
Shines with its short stature
Sign of sensuality and suppleness
Supports spirits, slashes stress
Scents and colognes made from it
Small, lovely, luminous jasmine, the
Special choice of beloved-hearts
Place : Honourable Mention
You’re a Flower in My Garden 3-5-24
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Daphne
Your winter child, with beguiling scent perfumes snow and rain,
I smile in January’s barrenness to herald crocus, wrens and snowdrops.
Sometimes a temperamental garden tot, don’t like wet feet,
Evergreen harbinger of bees and ladybugs and butterflies
Whispering of vernal winds in their hibernating renewal.
I watch the furry maniacs retrieve a cache of summer pine nuts
From beneath the cloak of my protection –
Spear leaves edged in yellow like wispy winter sunshine -–
Giving back a fountain of fragrance splashing from star shaped blooms.
Robed in purple royalty, decorating winter’s threadbare garden gown,
My blossoms glow through your garden’s gloom,
A jubilee of sweet incense, heaven’s winter grace, lovingly shared.
A
Crow cawed
Then a dove
Cooed early while
Still dark from cloudy
Skies on this late winter's
Morn, the only gold was the
Daffodils' blossoms flashing smiles
To the star magnolia's delicate
Star shaped blooms seeking a friend before spring
I stroll through the garden of delight,
Where fragrant flowers scent the air.
Each one a different hue and sight,
Each one a gift of nature's care.
I breathe in the sweet scent of gardenia,
A melody of citrus-floral blend.
It soothes my soul like a symphonia,
A white blossom, a harmonious friend.
I marvel at the lily of the valley,
A bell-shaped beauty, a graceful sight.
It fills my heart with joy and glee,
A fresh embrace, pure and light.
I inhale the rich scent of jasmine,
An exotic spice, sensual and bold.
It stirs my senses with passion,
A star-shaped flower, a story untold.
I unwind with the soothing scent of lavender,
A herbal balm, calming and mild.
It eases my mind with wonder,
A purple charm, nature's child.
I smile at the romantic scent of rose,
A classic love, floral and bright.
It warms my spirit with its pose,
A red symbol of the dove's flight.
I stroll through the garden of delight,
Where fragrant flowers scent the air.
Each one a different hue and sight,
Each one a gift of nature's care.
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