Oh hypnotize, yon fields of grace,
your supple stems in wind’s embrace
and fill your scent my breathing space,
in sunlit rows and shadows
mid fuzzy hum in meadows.
Ahh bloom, dear blossoms, lavender!
Intoxicate the atmosphere;
a dalliance with yesteryear.
Do sway with rhythm blowy
sweet fleurs petite and showy,
do sway and let selves undulate
with air in rhythm celebrate
along with songs of windchimes, faint.
Oh dance, yes dance young breezes!
Romance the plume that teases
and reaches for the gold in skies,
where sylphs of sunset fraternize
as earth and heavens fantasize
of flowy ballerinas.
For gods a panacea
and too, my muse, as fingers sweep
the silk of petals on spikes steep
to wake my dreams that were asleep.
For long they lay forgotten
their silver-gleam stems trodden.
Oh rise in rhythm, wind! Do rise,
and gift my voice a tryst with chimes,
recite with lilt soprano rhymes...
Make smooth my pulse to groove through veins
like lavender in tufted waves
...and wind, let whirl the rooster’s vane.
Written: January 28, 2025, for contest
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Maples dance in fugue autumn's breath,
Symphony of mistral whispers,
In rhapsody, crimson embers adorn the sky,
In the musical air, copper leaves dance,
A mirthful, free caramel trill stems from the clay.
Alabaster sky sparkles with magic flares,
Rainbow frescoes flash at times,
Butterfly sylphs mutter arias into floral seas,
Abalones on a velvet tide stir sunlit petals.
Nature's fairy chorus sings slightly,
A frosty canopy awakens chrysalis dreams,
Iridescent hues paint blue skies with magic.
Each hue speaks, from rosy dawn to auburn sunset,
evoking fall-fading charm and whispered secrets.
Alabaster dreams soar as frost kisses farewell,
The chrysalis trio dances to the fading light,
Each leaf and shadow carries rhapsodic sounds,
A nature-painted fresco with hues that merge into twilight.
When dawn drifts into charmed meadows
enchantment fades with the shadows,
drinking perfume from the night's air,
stirring fragrance that lingers there.
Faintest mist sprinkles wild grasses,
when dawn drifts into charmed meadows.
Sewn jewels on satin sashes
of Sylphs dancing with Tylwyth Teg.
Fae play elaborate charades
before meadow enchantment fades.
When dawn drifts into charmed meadows,
Brownies comfort mourning Banshees.
Asrai frolic with the Selkies
as darkness fades into bleached sun.
Magic leaves as it had begun
when dawn drifts into charmed meadows.
5
In an endless night,
time is my nemesis.
In the realms of sleepwalking nightmares,
where trumpets blow an eerie tune,
I can see the Grim Reaper,
perched upon my tomb.
I search for the sandman
in the domain of dreams.
Where hope is an alchemy of potions,
igniting stars to cremate calamity.
In the marketplace of hallucination,
I barter with misty, moody moonlight,
before reality returns to spoil an ephemeral fate,
wishing to remain where imagination illuminates.
Sprites and Sylphs guide to a secret passage,
a labyrinth where ancient secrets sleep.
Yet their black gates are like Hercules' Twelve Labors.
Constant knocking results in the death of spirit.
Defeated by delusions of utopia,
I surrender to a tangible conclusion.
A scarlet-throated hummingbird, betrayed,
commences the annual rite of packing his nest,
in response to whimsical winds' pirouette
and the capricious moods of weather's ballet.
Distant friends once conspired in sunbeam pursuits,
beak-dipping in nectar teased from blossoms' allure,
whispers of the breeze tutoring flight's debut.
Without forewarning, save the whispers of history,
the wind turned, concealing its chilly shoulder,
snow's fragrance on its breath, contradicting denials.
Taking only essentials, nestled close to his breast,
an eccentric twig, a wisp of newborn down for nostalgia,
the unborn blueprints of a portico, a dream deferred.
Perched on a bare branch at dawn, the crimson aviator bids adieu,
soaring on a desolate breath, burden lightened,
leaving his heart with the capricious whimsy of sylphs.
A red-throated hummingbird, betrayed,
begins the annual rite of packing up his nest,
in response to the mercurial spinning of winds,
and the twisted temperaments of weather.
Distant friends once conspired together, chasing sunbeams,
beak-seeking nectar beckoned from blossoms' tease,
thoughtful temptations from the breeze who taught him to fly.
Without warning, save the predictions of history,
the wind turned her shoulder, hiding the cold,
smell of snow on her breath belying denials of inclemency.
Taking only what he needs, tucking it in next to his breast;
an odd stick, a tuft of newborn lanugo for the sake of nostalgia,
unhatched plans of a portico he had intended to build.
Red bird perched on bare branch, in morning bids farewell,
takes flight on desolate breath, his load less heavy now,
having left his heart with the unsteady humor of sylphs.
Sylphs, Fairies, Imps, Sprites
Moonlighting on the dark side
Bitstreaming the Night
Ology fractured
Today's Client, a new breed
That's the business
Mushrooming sales, sniffs
Crystal, clear intent
To manufacture
-oting with money
At the Poles, even my wife
There's Aurora now
Lunging from darkness
Retro grade it forward, Ho
Think plunges work well
Everything's for sale
Well, Specially People, Hell
Got a few right here
Ever since Biden
Been no need for deception
Magic, fade to black
That's a rap people
Cut it, print it, Sell it high
I miss the old days
Video stores, love
Obeying Constitutions
Common decency
They meet, eat and drink, flutter and make merry.
Smiles flying from face to face, laughter airy.
They share a party of the soul and spirit;
their portrayal of mere humans satiric.
Laughing at our silly, paranoid folly
they point and guffaw, “Oh gosh, oh golly!”
They mimic us; watch as fear takes our good senses;
cover faces with gossamer, hide behind fences.
They laugh, sing and flit until time to sleep –
dreaming of foolish humans being led as sheep
neither caring nor daring thoughts of their own,
their leaders controlling – independence flown.
They awake and wonder, “What does this day bring?
A new year party with bright baubles and bling!”
Faeries, nymphs and sylphs plan a gala with friends
to last through the year – their party never ends.
Stars that shine the brightest
Shining cluster above
Seven sisters shimmer
Sylphs from mythology
Silver Andromeda
Supernatural sky
Sparkling like sequins
Self-destruction
is erotic.
The ticking time-bomb type is infinitely more attractive
than the girl next door.
I prefer the taste of cheap tequila and No. 27s
on other girls’ lips.
There are sylphs and there are more modern nymphs-
those that thrive on neon and glitz.
Black lace, dark eyes, losing shoes and stroking thighs-
I think I’ve found a new addiction,
a Warhol, M.D. prescription.
.
The flower’s image before me
stares
So overwhelmed by the splendor
my fingers become
agitated
restless
frantic
and what spills
sears mine slip
stunning sky blue decorate
the sylphs eyes
clustered blond tresses ornament
her soft Caucasian flesh
to her hips
leading this soul’s gaze to those
naked distended lips
The poet pining for this
petite nubile miss
Now hark how brilliantly doth shine that place
So bright, of which the nymphs have spoken of.
A place where malevolence gives chase
To endless starry fields of sky above.
What I would sacrifice to situate
Myself in its divine vicinity!
A hundred thousand centuries I'll wait
To feel a flash of its affinity.
But then I was given a free demand.
An offer by three sylphs (of faith they lack)
"I wish you'd send me to that somewhere grand,"
Said I, "And never ever bring me back!"
And so, at once was I compressed to dust,
In life true beauty lies in thoughts, never discussed.
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