Ozark Mountain trails my small bare feet once knew
where whippoorwills stitched dusk with trilling song.
The hills held dusk and my dreams in shades of pine blue
and taught my heart where quiet souls belong.
"Spring being a tough act to follow, God created June." Al Bernstein
June’s moon illumines with gold light in a sapphire sky.
It’s as clear to me as a cloudless night summertime is nigh.
Though still-cool primrose evenings linger on from spring,
I listen for the sounds that warmer nights will bring:
crickets’ chirruping, whippoorwills in leafy trees. Sing,
oh lovely robin. Mockingbird, let me hear your charming croon.
Common loon, may I slumber to your haunting tune?
Sultry days mid-summer will be coaxing me to go
on long mid-afternoon walks to a yellow-flowered meadow.
Maybe I’ll go wading in cool water of a stream,
then lie beneath a willow and drift into a dream.
Fleeting is the sunny season; like my dreams, it too will end.
Then I will be writing of the beauty fall shall send.
Mornings are made for paper and pens
In the hands of a would-be scribe,
At each day’s awakening between sun and shade
And silence is coming alive.
From out of the dark, the touch of a spark
Of light on the distant shore,
This time of day has always been made
For would-be scribes for sure.
When the mourning doves and whippoorwills
Begin their ritual songs of life
Of cooing, wooing and renewing
Everything in sound or sight.
And the would-be scribe tries not to hide
His or her thoughts too deep,
But let them all rise like dew in the sky
And eagles to snowy mountain peaks.
Let the words come forth
Like cool water from a riverbed,
Bringing thoughtfulness, kindness and ponderings
Wherever hearts and minds are led.
Let no one cease this ancient peace
Of writing in early hours,
The writer’s way of flying away
Turning tragedy and tears into wildflowers.
Let their words be heard and hearts be stirred
In the twilight of the day,
Excelsior to the would-be scribes
And all they have to say.
© Terrell Martin, 01/25/2025
Woodland wildlife were weather wary, withdrawn.
Wily wolves watched winter's warning... woebegone.
Wildflowers withered while worrisome willows would
whisper, "Winter witchery weaves within Wildwood."
Watching with wonder, were winged whippoorwills.
Windstorms were whirling, wrecking wooden windmills.
Wrathfully whipping while wretchedly whistling, which
wakened wry Wanda... Wildwood's wickedest witch!
July 1, 2022
Begin with a letter contest
Sponsored by Angela Tune
waiting for wise words
whispering and wondering
whippoorwills wander
5/30/2022
~ Alliterative Haiku~
LIKE A STAR AM I
Like a star am I!
Who only shimmers in velvet gem darkness, aye.
This~ my world of transcendental mystery.
And the only place, you will ever substantiate the
mystical, me!
Sunshine's progeny, I am not.
Nor am I, cocoa butter's tot!
A silken moon for a gentle pillow,
Mating music of busy,plumaged whippoorwills.
The spinning, intoxicating,music of the universe.
Ah yes~~~that's when I can compose such vivid,
outstanding verse!
September 30, 2020
2pm PST
There is no greater mystery to me than the whippoorwill
He stops at my home each April and September - never late -
On his way to North or South to who - knows - where and who - knows - why
But as regular as clockwork in his search to find a mate
I know he's there because of his nightly three syllable calls
A lonelier cry you will never hear - at least I would pray
For twenty years I have listened fascinated to this call
I have never seen the bird as he vanishes in the day
But the mystery - I have never heard an answering call
Sometimes he cries all night long - silence is his only reward
Of course it could be he only stopped to say hello to me
What more fitting purpose than to cross paths with a lonely bard
Could this be the very same bird that visits each Spring and Fall
Unlikely that a single bird would live for twenty seasons
But then it wouldn't be a mystery without some puzzle
Poets and whippoorwills seem perfectly matched for some reasons
7-10-20
Contest: Bird
Sponsor: Constance La France
In my worst, most surreal childhood nightmare, my little sister and I
were playing near a rain-swollen creek, in which—in a flash--she floated
facedown, drowned. Then, already paralyzed, I was attacked by hundreds
of loud, vengeful whippoorwills.
Even now a sound
sweet to others is haunting
to me~~whip poor will.
38 words, 17 syllables
Date: June 28, 2020
entered in A Memory Poetry Contest
Sponsor: Line Gauthier
In full twilight surrender.
Whippoorwills chirped as they danced.
Asteria strummed her lyre
for them; music of the night!
The newlyweds stepped out for
a romantic rendezvous
under billions of bright stars!
ON BROADWAY Poetry Contest (Winner: 3rd Place)
Sponsored by Nette Onclaud
Theme chosen: Music Of The Night
Checked at howmanysyllables. com
Date Written: 06/21/2020
"In all things of nature there is something of the marvelous." Aristotle
Dusk
Is a
Suddeness
Night sounds come forth
As fireflies alight
Whippoorwills seek a mate
And crickets warm up their legs
One star shines on the horizon
Then darkness falls -the sky is alive
With the billion stars of the Milky Way
5-13-20
Contest: Etheree
Sponsor: Dear Heart
Baby birds cheeping in treetops high, mellow yellow,
Whippoorwills' song when even is nigh, red sunset glow,
Raucous crows in the hot noon sun, deep orange gold,
Humming bees in blazing wildflowers, dark green wold!
Seagulls' elegant glide over pounding surf, royal blue,
Crickets calling through a summer night, a black revue,
Loons hooting across transparent lake, twilight purple,
And cardinal chirps lonely songs, in pink crape myrtle!
Parrots squawk away the sunny hours, of forests green,
Nightingales sing forever and a day, white moonbeams,
Humming bird emblazons the peony bush, pretty pink,
Goldfinch trills on desert bush, as orange sun slinks!
A memory of yellow blooms lives in the heart;
A smile.
Creamy gold dawn hails a propitious start;
Dreamt awhile.
Late last night, the soon ember of today;
Stars twinkled.
Now sublime Mother Nature in exotic array;
And brooks tinkle.
All nature is guided by divine wisdom unseen,
Which is why the lorikeet's home is ever green,
And the moon at primetime evokes such thrills,
And the evening shadows bring whippoorwills!
God sagely keeps track of every human desire,
And keeps the bluejay in the woodland choir,
And makes cobalt skies glow, and warm winds blow,
And pink daisies to emblazon the entire meadow.
It's small wonder nature's so gay under the sun,
And crickets chirp their joy when day is done!
I sing to the sun in a sky of blue
And dream in the clouds painting pictures of you
My heart starts to soar like rainbows above
My one and only love
I dance with the moon in the darkest of nights
To hold you in my arms and waltz with delight
A potion in hand for my beautiful white dove
My one and only love
I laugh with the stars in a sea of midnight
Happiness dreams of our passions tonight
When our hearts start to fly fluttering above
My one and only love
Chorus:
I am and ever will be yours
Forever true as true can be
For our love is so divine it will endure
The infinite waters of the deepest seas
(instrumental-interlude)
I speak to the earth with an enchanting tale
Whispering sweet secrets to each other's delight
While whippoorwills mimic our words and take flight
My one and only love
I sing with the sun that "I love you"
I dance with the moon while tenderly holding you
I laugh with the stars as I adore you
My one and only love
January 2, 2020
Sonata Lyrics Poetry Contest
Sponsored by James Edward Lee Sr.
love me like you mean it
and tell me loud and clear
hold me like you used to
and whisper in my ear
you've been gone much too long
don't tell me where you've been
shortly the sun will rise
just love me once again
say naught of tomorrow
while we have yesterday
tell me you've been lonely
and we'll let come what may
talk of the silver moon
and fireflies in the night
listen to the crickets
and whippoorwills in flight
love me like you mean it
kiss away my tears
I will smile deep inside -
then brush away my fears
11-28-19
Contest: Love Me Like You Mean It
Sponsor:Julie Leigh Rodeheaver
i sent my prayers out to the wind
doubting anyone was listening
i called out to the universe
in each and every direction
'twas then I heard in echo
the likes of angel voices
midst silence of the night
the songs of whippoorwills
AP: 1st place 2021, Honorable Mention 2021, Honorable Mention 2021
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