It seems
A sadness creeping in
An errant breeze
Bereft of ocean scent
More an idle odor
Mercilessly meandering
Tingeing all
With its turbid touch
Recalling
From the depth of joy
A hidden angst
A faded scar-like distress
Painless
Yet
Somehow
Calling attention
To itself
Categories:
tingeing, angst,
Form: Free verse
September’s serendipitous serenade
Evokes the ebullience of ecstasy
Provokes a prancing promenade
Tingeing the torrid leaf tips
Exacting an elemental excitements
Monumental majesty
Blue-black horizons blending
Exotically enigmatic exigencies
Ruby reds rollicking in the Rockies
John G. Lawless
©9/1/2018
Categories:
tingeing, september,
Form: Acrostic
a splash of pink
in a deep blue sky
just tingeing the clouds
as they slowly drift by
sun slips behind the mountain
Categories:
tingeing, sky,
Form: Tanka
The warm spring rain still falls on the cherry trees,
pelting on the sodden and drooping *lavender lilies...
forming a small lake, where playful robins
bathe and fend off the thrusting, thirsty shrikes.
Soon children will come out and act dippy...
chased by wild puppies and mousy kitties
fighting over their stuffed, torn bears;
oh, there goes my peace and *tranquility!
The *fragrant lilacs are in dire need of growth and color,
lately they haven't soaked up enough sun and raindrops:
tingeing them, allowing them to revel in their *splendor;
never denying lovers the *dulcet tones of their voices.
The tranquil skies conjure up a past *bliss,
can a poet's unrhymed words, emitted in a *whisper, go on *lilting?
He will delightfully inhale the strong perfume of the breeze *wafting!
And will he create verses with *eloquence?
Entered in Andrea Dietrich's contest,
Word Warrior Challenge: Beautiful Words
Categories:
tingeing, children, funny, happiness, imagination,
Form: Quatrain
The rose so delicately picked
Pricks and bleeds its life blood from the thorn,
The droplets marring the green grass;
Tingeing the blades with death.
Watch your hands,
Don’t get caught.
Life lessons are learnt
As lies are taught.
A world with no morals
And a hell with no bounds,
Luring the damned
As the demons dance round.
Petals turn to dust
As the fire of depravity
Turns morality to rust.
As the years unfold
The story is told
Of how the roses colour
Came to be.
A fair young maiden
In the fields does wait
For her brave young hero
Who has being slaying enemies in battle.
He did arrive, wounded badly
And hardly alive.
The maiden ran to him as he did collapse
And held him in her arms.
As his life slipped away.
Thru sheer despair
The young maiden did weep.
She cried for so many years
Her eyes had bled,
Making the ground so wet
That the flowers she did weep upon
Soaked up her stained tears
And that is why
The rose is red.
Categories:
tingeing, death, loss, love, nature,
Form: I do not know?