Silken whispers greet the blithe morning
damp mist spring tap on red oak door
joyful treat preempted faint dawning
Felicity a phase one can’t ignore
bright daffodil white and pink bloom
fragrant garden bouquet stuff of lore
Alyssum’s plump trailing mound may loom
where greyedging border might seem bare
ideal cluster wraparound March plume
Ever present awe inflames my stare
rampant green aroma gust blown sent
nearby rabbit chuckled in its lair
Ample rose bush color splash in lent
showcase of enduring floral sign
tints and tones that ruffle by assent
Snowdrop bells perennial align
sprout from moistened brown earth
on pebbled wall a green creeping vine
Embrace this heady seasonal birth
marvel at its blue spruce tapestry
exhale your élan vital of mirth
Categories:
wraparound, art, beautiful, beauty, change,
Form: Terza Rima
From across the park I see the house,
Open windows spilling pools of light
Onto the wide wraparound porch.
As I walk nearer, I take a look inside.
On the walls, framed paintings
And a cluster of family photographs,
Over-stuffed furniture, a little worn,
Sleepy dog on a towel on the chair.
Through the side window I see
Shelves crammed with stacks of books,
A daybed, cluttered desk with a computer,
Drawing table, a rack of supplies.
Candles on the dining room table,
Mahogany and glass china closet,
Old fashioned sideboard with
A slightly tarnished silver tea service.
Upstairs, lights glow behind shades,
But in the kitchen a cheery brightness!
Someone moving, talking, carrying a plate
And laughing at some unknown joke!
What sort of people live in this house?
I think I know - comfortable, unpretentious
People, real, who live and love and care.
Heart full, I tread the steps up to my porch!
Categories:
wraparound, family, love,
Form: Free verse
Weepy and willowy
purple and greening…
Green and purpling vines,
Landowners between the lines.
Beyond the willowing pines,
Spring’s surplusity sublime.
Weepy and willowy
purple and greening…
Conifers a leap, in front of creek,
reminiscent-flooding was not meek.
Caught in my wide eye that week —
the bubbling serendipitous freak.
Weepy and willowy
purple and greening…
Wraparound fence a lá wisteria blooms.
Honey and carpenter bees, hornets zoom,
‘round about its heady-cocktail’d perfume.
All aboard the buzz of springtide costume.
Weepy and willowy
purple and greening
Spring is a-leaping and lording
raising a poet’s pulse, an unpreventable affording
of contentment—
sickness of singing feathers, courting
unforgettable fetters
of magical colors, supporting
one’s cause for rhyming
hypnotic, its timing…
3/31/2021
Categories:
wraparound, imagery,
Form: Rhyme
in a state of chill
i am lost in a world long lost
revisiting here for a few days is like my heart skipping rocks in a hot tub
my mind is in a sauna of contentment
my soul is on a wraparound deck overlooking lake whatchamacallit
chocolate covered paradise
vanilla based effervescence
the cherry on top is the peaceful breeze doctoring my tested sanity
my body temperature is back to balanced
in a state of chill
Categories:
wraparound, meaningful, peace, uplifting,
Form: Free verse
A vertical line of point on a beach is a starving starfish. Enterprises of ravishing seagulls. Swoop swap. Thresholds of alignment. Delivery of stone reason. No rhyme. Under a large bridge a worm sits playing a banjo. Jolting it's head. And an abacus fancies a date with a calculator to discuss economic apparitions. Never turret a noted head on a silver backed gorilla packet as carpets can be raised to form sky tunnels. So be stoic in one's behaviour in a jar. Choosing chasing chased chasers casted caste credit creeds. And a knife speaks to a chopping board. Pretty not a wildebeest in a negligée as it prefers leather. Hahahaha and a dormancy. Hahahaha eradicated euphemisms hahahaha days of normal summery red wraparound dress xxxx pickled. 'paleobiological' z v z - ?
Categories:
wraparound, anniversary,
Form: I do not know?
A vertical line of point on a beach is a starving starfish. Enterprises of ravishing seagulls. Swoop swap. Thresholds of alignment. Delivery of stone reason. No rhyme. Under a large bridge a worm sits playing a banjo. Jolting it's head. And an abacus fancies a date with a calculator to discuss economic apparitions. Never turret a noted head on a silver backed gorilla packet as carpets can be raised to form sky tunnels. So be stoic in one's behaviour in a jar. Choosing chasing chased chasers casted caste credit creeds. And a knife speaks to a chopping board. Pretty not a wildebeest in a negligée as it prefers leather. Hahahaha and a dormancy. Hahahaha eradicated euphemisms hahahaha days of normal summery red wraparound dress xxxx pickled. 'paleobiological' z v z - ?
Categories:
wraparound, anniversary,
Form: I do not know?
corner unit joy
wraparound fun
borderline lightning taps the heart of the surface
images of wonder
neverending artwork
borderline lightning teases the beautification of the peaceful stillness
happiness in temporary dwelling
immovable inspiration
borderline lightning expresses loudly that it means no harm
unscathed sunshine smile
investigated abuse undetected
borderline lightning quietly moves on after freeing its constipated currents
corner unit bliss
wraparound peace
Categories:
wraparound, poetry,
Form: Free verse
Long, Low and Wide
By Elton Camp
American cars of the fifties were a big hit
Although some in a garage wouldn’t fit
No tailfin could possibly be too high
A wraparound windshield had to spy
Gobs of shiny chrome was the in thing
Like a cheap woman covered in bling
They weaved uncertainly down the way
Safety was not a concern of the day
They would rattle, shimmy and shake
The shoddy construction was a mistake
Ten miles per gallon is all some got
Get 100,000 miles and they were shot
That decade was the beginning of disgust
So that later, foreign cars became a must
Those of us who were young in that time
Considered those cars to be so sublime
Categories:
wraparound, car,
Form: Rhyme
Evening left you signaling the chime
The witness standing back in your eyes,
Pin shut lips
Words without a shot glass
Pouring freely down vacant streets.
Pages of the past hanging from the eave
Dancing the drunkard's lullaby,
falling from shoe tops.
Fingers twirling busy bees
In the palms of honey cups.
The empty barrel of the pen
Inked, in the letter left
Sleeping next to the wine.
This writing is familiar, you wrote it.
A love letter sealed
with slivers,
Post dated to a place long passed.
Sinewy paper placed neatly in script,
On the welcome mat to nowhere.
Souls infused through creased air, protest
Each breathe
peeling the pages,
Your blue wraparound dress.
Consenting the satisfaction of knowing, there
Across the hall is your door, uncloaked
leading to your bed,
This is also my bed.
Rendezvous hanging like stale pipe smoke,
Where clothes splash ripples in absinthe sheets.
Categories:
wraparound, lost love
Form: Free verse