the celestial dancer
pirouettes
bending
refracting
weaving
illuminating
the crossroads of reality
twisting fate
in cosmic alchemy
the universe yielding
to her will
The land lies
Chilled and stilled.
Whether flatlands
Or rolling hills.
Damp, cold, and alone;
She doesn't feel at home.
It's hard to feel at home
Where warmth and purpose seem
To be in decline or have departed.
The land knows that she was made to yield;
To yield grain, nuts, fruits, and vegetables.
But when she gives pause and thought,
She realizes that she's right at home.
She surrenders herself to a state of rest,
And when thought upon, she no longer feels
Bored and alone, but very much at home.
She becomes pleased that yesterday's yields
Are being utilized and feasted upon. So, she
Reclines and anticipates the yields of Spring.
She can't wait for the sprouting seeds and blossoming
trees. But until then, the lifeline of the land's present
season will thrive on patience, trust, sleep, and anticipation.
010624PS
truth peeled
hearts healed
City sleeps at night.
All our sadness fell asleep.
We sleep in our shades.
Fear yields to hope, as a new year beckons
Twenty twenty gone, in contemplation
With foe invisible, world could not cope
Rich and poor alike, in darkness did grope
Mother Earth has warned: our observation
No doubt fear of death had evoked tension
In time, we ceased to vent reaction
In tranquil silence, love within awoke
Fear yields to hope
As earth healed itself by fumigation
Mindful souls opted for meditation
Even though jobs were lost and we were broke
Fear became love as head and heart did yoke
Aligning with mother earths suggestion
Fear yields to hope
30-December-2020
*Image of Safflower Flower Saffron by Pixabay.
Yields In Yellows
Signs in marigold
with a daffodil accent
hints a yarrow drawl,
laughed I a sunflower be
saffron breaths refrain in gold.
2020 March 18
*HM*
Bite Size Poem no14
~~Line Gauthier: Judged 2021 July 28
*1st Place*
STRAND choice L, any theme any form
~~Brian Strand: Judged 2020 March 20
languished and fading
roses hang their heads in shame
whilst berries flourish
07.09.19
'A transition of seasons haiku contest' : sponsored by Tania Kitchin
R-ays
E-rase
N-ight
A-fter
L-ife
Y-ields
N-ew
L-ight
A-s
R-adiance
O-f
G-low
A-ppears
Topic: Birthday of Renalyn Laroga (December 27)
Form: Vertical Monocrostic
Fields, shields and yields of love heal
Upheavals hearts harassed and heckled in circumstances
Maintained, retained and sustained on a hill
Disown and drown doubts in cocoons that ingratiate impertinence instances.
Fields, shields and yields of love lubricate
Gears and gaskets gleaned from garages of gregariousness
Feted and elevated to sainthood to subjugate
Spirits and writs to wean wads of wickedness.
Fields, shields and yields of love amplify
Overt and covert conduits carried over
From ashes and slashes of creativity to mollify
Hearts that vowed never again to dignify a patriarchal palaver.
Fields, shields and yields of love cure
Hearts on fire with ire to hire an empire
Driven and given to glorifying the lure
They claim names romance recidivists to fire, retire or inspire.
The Rich Soil Which Yields My Food
Making a living from the earth is tough hard work and it is often done in extreme conditions. The shimmering rays passing through the open bedroom window awakens me with the warmth of the sun on my face. Lying a little longer enjoying the comfort of my bed, looking out the window before my day begins, enjoying the view of the blue sky while the clouds slowly move forming shapes. The light creeps through the leaves like water in a running stream through rocks. Listen to the gentle rustle movements of the leaves enjoying the cool morning breeze and the singing of the nesting birds in the trees in soothing harmony. My dog runs and jumps on my bed with some snuggles and a slight whimper to get me to rise to another long, tedious, exhausting, hard working day that’s ahead of me.
work morning till night
hustle behind a tractor
numbing exhausting
A farm takes pride in and being passionate about growing crops. It takes a special person to be a farmer.
farmers taking pride
rich crop triumph of hard work
always gives back more
© Eve Roper 7/28/2015
Fate's Seal Never Yields
A storm so dark and so very blue
fate delivers it's first misery clue
Earth and sky rapidly melt into an urn
soon, so very soon , comes my turn
Rain that spins so out of control
pelts down upon newly born souls
Awakening thoughts buried deep within
of the mortality of we lesser men
Short lives spent in duties often delayed
with dreams imagined but never quite made
Regret of the coming last dawn lingering around
like a lonely fish that is dark water bound
Ashes heaped upon a very wearisome head
Sleeping soundly in a very badly made bed
Robert J. Lindley 11/23/1977
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