Venture advances, the future ... occurs,
the White Willow trees, best found by rivers
edge. Salix alba, and 'Tristis' means sad,
hence, 'Weeping', yet the essence seems to add
a picturesque of a draped graceful scene,
nay gloomy but most tranquil, and serene.
The whitish tones of the leaf's undersides
evolved the tree's name. A meter trunk, wide's,
diameter, thirty-meter stretch that
leans caused by sloped limbs that bring its Top Hat
tilted downward. A bow ... accentuates,
or curtsey, being a deciduous
tree, where the flower's genders grow distinct,
genteel parade cascades in white trimmed linked.
Assures their breed a place among unknowns,
lest Europe and Asia part of their realms.
Peacock Butterfly, hues-full Inachis,
their uppermost topsides reveal truth bids,
yet undersides are black-like camouflage,
predators amiss, perplexed by mirage,
afears further by fake four eyes on wings,
and hissing sounds. The flower's nectar brings
life spans. They're killed whilst hibernating by
wood mice, and birds like Tit birds when they fly.
Folklore's namesake, Hera's Priestess Io,
eyed by Zeus, held by Hera as a cow.
A year's crawl and sleep, another takes flight,
climbing ivy draws and flowers, delight.
The undersides of school chairs
all gooey with gum
We thought it such fun
back in sixty-one
In sixty-two we tore fruit loops
from the backs of girls' shirts
The innocent way
we first learned to flirt
In sixty-three we all wore
skin-tight 'H.I.S.' pants
That ripped near your bulges
when you started to dance
Memories glorious
like your first cigarette
Or a long drawn-out kiss
with that gorgeous brunette
The Laurels in my garden line the fence,
resplendent in their leaves of vivid green,
the undersides are coloured less intense
and on the gentle days, they hang unseen.
But, come the fiercer wind from the south west,
the boughs bend to its will, nowhere to hide,
both trees yield to the force, do not contest,
as all leaves turn and show their other side.
We show one side to all, that's clear to see,
when life is good, and no hard choices made,
but only when in tougher times like these
our characters turn light or darker shades.
We all have sides that many do not know,
true colours, only shown when ill-winds blow.
From evening's very ground it seems
gathering swelling sounds
waves crescendo-ing, grandeur...
appear the first colors on the horizon
streaks of magenta lighting up
undersides of slate-gray clouds
powerful organ chords struck, playing
a frenzied symphony
in an ominous sky
A crack of thunder splits a humid June sky,
shattering into millions of tiny droplets
to the the ground
a desperately needed respite from the early summers heat.
I belonged out here
I knew this as I observed the sugar maples dancing with a pre-storm breeze
as if the world were breathing a sigh
inviting me to stay.
A whisper so soft you could only sense it
The silvery undersides of their leaves
turning in the wind
The charge across your skin as distant lightning flashes then dies with
a rumble that shutters the atmosphere
The smell of fresh sprinkles sizzling on the black top
The sound of splashing boots in muddy puddles
The taste of raindrops on your lips
While others waited for sunny skies
It was these moments that were for me
When the trails were empty
And the cloud tops high
catching every puffy curve in creamy golden hews
Reminding me all the time
That I belonged out here
Two
birds - sleek
ebony,
with tinge of blue,
undersides of red
and dotted tails - dart when
I step out of my back door.
Circling overhead, they soar. I’d
like a closer look at them, to find
their nest. . .but just can’t catch that pair at rest!
The brook claps over the tumbled rock bed
applauding the Spring thaw
like a gaggle of Irish revelers;
setting the man high marsh grass
to dance a slip jig in the bonnie breeze.
Returning Canadian geese chorus overhead
saluting the rippling waves
in the slate gray pond.
The white undersides of their wings mimicking
the flashing and snapping of the white caps on the lake.
Blodeuwedd, Flower Face;
returns with a fiddlers bow.
patch of blue sky
behind acacia foliage
turns ominously black,
winds wail, winds blow,
impatient, agitated,
flipping up undersides
of shaken leaves;
deluge comes,
crack and dazzle,
ripping away twigs,
tearing down branches,
lightning blasting away
at everything standing
upright in its way.
Step silent, listen
for the sizzle-slither
of a sister
snake who listens
soft for me, slides
among stones,
subsides
to undersides
of shadows, striking
soundless sinuous as
S, then slips
away
Broken glass tiles for your smile
Conch shell ears in pearly pink
Onyx mirror windows for your eyes
Butter yellow ribbons for your hair
Raw bamboo still green make up your arms
Sailor's knots in ropes, your veins to breathe
Apples, red delicious for your cheeks
Silver scales of fish each paper nail
Stilts of blooming rain trees for your legs
Finger prints of mushroom undersides
Kimono silk hand stitched makes up your skin
Palms of lotus flowers catching rain
Heart of solid salt born from the sea
Mind of lightning white against the night
Voice of two bright birds who lift the sky
Persona holding nature in refrain.
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