The blue hills from the hazy horizon
undulated gently down the emerald gradient
of the rhythmic waves of the luring landscape
that carved the contours of the charming hamlet joyful
where my endearing home was once cradled,
nurturing me in the bounty of beguiling nature.
The fairy flotilla of the cotton clouds,
making seraphic celestial panorama, slid silently
upon the curved canvas of the sapphire sky,
where my childhood joy soared to great heights
with the colorful kites I loved to fly.
A gleaming stream of shining liquid pearls
flowed with flamboyant facade of silvery splendor,
bedecked our house with an ornate garland
of a lilting loop of embracing meander.
On its water I floated rainbow-tinged paper boats
that sailed with my mariner mind
to a distant dreamland of teenage fantasy.
The boats have disappeared with the ebb of time,
I live lonely with the reflections of childhood.
Flavor of rain, herbal.....clear
like broth lingering on your lips ,
relishing a taste of limey brew--
its vapor beguiles my senses
with undulated abandon...
For a moment time freezes
in trembled trance, the monsoon rivering
as your kiss seeps inside the bones,
and in gradual mount of liquid thrill
the concave grip kneading
into an embrace within
one evening's quiver rescues me,
Reminding me how surrender
can be subtle like the slow movement
from piety to rawness of gust,
gathering all that's aflame
and gentle... and I will wrap
your fingers around my soul
through hidden blue of eyes ,
that cleavage of spine
dressed in lavish caresses,
that nothing else will fulfill me
...but the nectar of our misted dew.
Two fifteen-year-olds stood in a dark hotel parking lot.
Laughing teenagers passed with their dates, to their cars.
The pair stood, awaiting her parents -
she, in a shiny, pink, satin dress, a corsage,
and a gold chain tracing a meandering path on her smooth neck,
he, in a crazy tuxedo,
and a strange garment - a cummerbund.
Earlier, clumsily, unnerved, and threatened by a huge concentration
of alien creatures, that is, fellow teenagers,
he had tried to navigate a new kind of obstacle course,
at one point, emulating something called a dance.
Her curves gracefully undulated,
stretching the fabric of her dress.
He hadn't talked much that night.
Now, in the dark, away from the crowd,
he spoke,
placing his hands around her waist,
and feeling, through slippery fabric,
something entirely new,
wonderful and real.
Piece by piece he began to fall apart,
Time wasn’t bringing what he needed,
Hope wasn’t opening any doors for him,
It was a carousel of unmet desires.
He reached out for help,
Excuses and disappointments towed the lines,
Held in his little corner,
He couldn’t launch out.
His mind wasn’t helping matters,
It was a sea of turbulence,
A road that undulated and meandered,
A room of recalcitrant nights.
Fighting incessant battles wearied him,
Monsters were often at his window,
He was living on the edge,
Tomorrow wasn’t an excitement.
He poured his sorrows into his writings,
He let them out of his chamber,
He wished they could fly to distant lands,
Probably tomorrow would bring sunshine.
April 12, 2024.
The night hung still
beneath the clouded moon,
and from our deck,
we watched the hazy glow.
The crickets softly chirped
their mating croon
as shadows spread
by trees, danced down below.
And then, we saw it
slithering out far!
Out on the grass,
it undulated there-
a snake-like vision,
crawling- so bazaar;
streaked white and black,
it writhed- gave us a scare!
Soon heading closer,
monster-like it moved.
With night binoculars
held to our eyes-
could not believe-
with vision then improved,
this mystery became
a huge surprise!
Sleek, white and black-
and moving like a snake,
a skunk with five kits
lined up in a row
as one big monster-
such fear did awake;
was wriggling in the grass,
real low and slow!
In the early morning, as the sun yawns and lets out her first light ray
two fishermen walk through the flooded bushes, searching for fish.
Inside cooler waters a silent lake says, " Take your time, take your time"
The sun slow at it's highest point drips with gold and continues to splay
while fish with their caudal fins and tails, kick forward into refreshing waters,
enjoying cool oxygen moments of grace, before the water gets too hot.
"Take your time, take your time" says the dawn
pink and purple, saffron yellow, with a touch of golden mellow.
Two buddies side by side, just like Abbott and Costello
catching fish and then releasing, into the undulated waves.
The sound of a female duck quacking in the distance,
followed by six mallard duckling babies, dark chocolate brown
with fuzzy yellow tails, wagging happily;
They appear to be saying, " take your time, take your time"
In the noon day sun an open tackle box and an empty thermos.
A passerby says " caught any fish yet?"
the fisherman smiles, not yet, they are just taking their time.
On peony buds
Undulated arms
Paint The valentine's rainbow
February 15, 2023
A Ripple To Me Poetry Contest
Sponsored by: JCB Brul
In April everything was green,
a patch of blue couldn't be seen,
the orange sun was kept away with dire;
I lied down a scented blanket of emerald...
while the yellow robins circled above
showing their aerial skills that impressed,
but the brown-winged hummingbirds perched
on plum trees created a piece of music so unique
that even a composer couldn't imagine...
how inspirational was their song to God!
Swaying auburn trees on a November magical day
show their lustrous colors to daze minds,
their branches undulated by the auspicious wind
remind me of that red-headed girl I kissed;
did her image vanish before I could express my dismay?
I assumed that manifesting passion would bind hearts!
This is one of my favorite places I often frequent
when loneliness grips me by a feeling of helplessness;
I've built an imagery temple to her frivolousness,
to someone too sensual and stripped of amorous intent...
kissing her under swaying auburn trees that enchant
and spread their delusional essence of stifling dissent!
As I touched its surface I wondered
what the petal of the pansy was made of.
How its softness spoke of velvet and how
it shared the beauty of its color as it spoke
its joy to me, smiling every day with the
sweet enthusiasm only found in children.
As I felt my heartbeat quicken I wondered
what it would feel like to touch my deepest artery,
to feel the warm wet surface as it undulated
smoothly to the rhythm of my blood.
I wondered long about how things
can be so different when they are made
of the same love
An ancient salamander
swam the ocean deep,
scarlet toes,
upon his feet.
Frilly gills were,
floating free;
down into the brine’s
darkest keep.
Stiff finned ridges
upon his back
helped him keep
away attacks.
Undulated through
the waters black,
he was the last one
living of his pack.
Salamander’s getting old;
ancient amphibian with face half black.
Mining crustaceans for his meal,
though his stamina is slack.
Caecillian knows one day, he will die,
but, for now, he’ll swim back,
to the land, to his nest,
with tail, obliterating his paw tracks.
The night hung still beneath the clouded moon,
and from our deck, we watched the hazy glow.
The crickets softly chirped their mating croon
as shadows spread upon the ground below.
And then, we saw it slithering out far!
Close to the ground, it undulated there,
a snake-like vision, crawling- so bazaar;
jet black and white, it writhed- gave us a scare!
Soon heading closer, monster-like it moved;
held night binoculars up to our eyes.
Could not believe- with vision then improved,
this mystery became a huge surprise!
A skunk with five kits lined up in a row
was wriggling in the grass, real low and slow.
September 20, 2018
True! We witnessed this in the summer of 2017.
The forest was lush green and dripping of moss and rain,
Glittering flowing streams meandered past dark foliage and trees;
And wild flowers dropped their petals into the water,
Where they drifted down waterfalls into sapphire blue lakes.
I listened deeply to the rippling water kissing the wet rocks,
And the forest was loudly chirping and breathing and beckoning me;
Then I heard my name being called from a faraway place,
It undulated in the tangled branches and whispered on the wind.
The voice called my name over and over and I ran towards it,
My sobbing a loud moaning wail lost in the vast forest and streams;
Then,it was dark night, the blue sky had withered away,
The stars trembled as I ran through the maze . . .
Then, I awoke . . . weeping.
______________________
November 4, 2013
Poetry/Verse/Tangled Dream
Copyright Protected, ID 13-1013-771-0
All Rights Reserved. Written Under Pseudonym.
Submitted into the contest,
Mid April 2019 Premiere Contest,
sponsor, Brian Strand
Sixth Place
She was sweet
and beautiful;
her thoughts undulated
like ocean waves,
her movements were
like a dance, but
she was fragile
like ribbon candy and
broke into small shards
at the lightest touch.
In my land-
There are roads,
With no signs but wonders
There are passages;
Littered with broken promises,
Leaving dwellers with wounded feats
Echoes of 'change' fills the air,
As sneezing hopes gather dust
Gradually,
Undulated zeals are diluted;
Leaving watery goals
Beyond the surface-
I see sore faces;
Curtained behind a broad smile,
A smile broad enough-
To conceal pain from blind minds¤
I see feeble hearts,
Dancing to the melodies of deceit
I see the sea thirsty¤
Laws baked in flawed flours¤
Pure pain mixed up for strength;
By the chefs of ignorance
In my land,
These roads are also rode by rogues
These passages inhabits rusted promises
The roads fight to live,
As citizens-
Are left with mixed chores
Indeed, it's a land of mixtures
To find solace from misty tides that curve,
In low beats gently weaving their way
Along the coastline where our town rests:
This aging lake I knew as a girl
Is now draped with crumpled lily pads,
Against night’s advancing shade. I heave…
Yet, the clear music of waves endure
All trespasses from environ's care;
Chanting the legends of time's folklore
Much like a rhapsody warbling stories
Passed from one era to the next:
This water- bend filled with salt of love, death
As I listen to its undulated psalms---
Still beautiful in a wilting habitat,
Knowing my lake resides in my inner world.
---------------
END JULY PREMIERE CONTEST OF Brian Strand
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