Category Archives: Nature

Ocean Mists

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Mists evade the rolling surf, yet cling to every molecule,
here beneath blue spattered grey, before the cliffs, in ridicule.
Spring the forecast, fall, the truth,
winter’s dungeon through reproof
harbors only summer’s hope when we decide to claim this beach,
gain some sense of proof,
our dreams deny our reach.

Cold the morning air derides all sense of what we hope, to sea,
born on purposed waves of foam through which our selfish lovers flee.
Loath the moment, long for more,
beg a knock upon each door
that keeps a lover’s blush alive within the gently whispered sum,
upon this witless moor,
wonders why we’ve come.

In silent step, pressed in sand,
hushed beneath the cliff’s swift stand,
echoed dreams drift near as ghosts beneath a spattered sky,
walking sweetly hand in hand,
as mists upon tide.

photo courtesy of Public Domain
12 Apostles – Victoria Australia

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Filed under Dreams, Nature, Perspective, Poetry, Universal Soul

The Poet Cow

Ever wonder what goes on in the evening, after dusk, once the animals have all returned to the barn… Consider this…

Stories told at sunset’s arc when last the barn doors come to close, echo frames throughout the day, recalled in honor, artful prose that’s spoke in hushing laughter yet cast about in formal style, applauded when the speaker bows returning to the trough a while.

Amidst the hay and feed there, the poet cow enthralls in song, crafted day’s end stories collected from the farm’s sweet throng of horses bound to duty, of cows molested milking tales, of mice in chase and cats who beg to steal a sip from milking pales, of chicks and hens who peck about in counting grains of sand, of dogs who walk in mending fences beneath the gentle farmer’s hand.

Oh! The stories conjured, each verse with vim and vigor flows, weaves the country’s subtle life with dreams caught twixt the piglet’s toes.

The poet cow in bashful eye unmasks his soul when dusk is past, turns the stanzas fluently till all nod off and sleep is cast. Then to himself he mutters low, in Shakespearean tone and manner borrowed, “Good Night, Good night! … that I shall say good night till it be morrow.”

formatted and posted for dVerse – Poet’s Pub, Open Link Night

http://dversepoets.com/

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Filed under Nature, Perspective, Poetry

A Winter’s Kiss

Stand still amidst the frozen hush,
suspended twixt each crystal’s blush,
surrendered in mid-winter’s snow.
Starve your senses in the bold
retreat of hearth’s sweet warmth, left cold,
reducing now to all you know.

Iron bare, the season’s scent,
riding on a whisper’s hint,
each frozen note in languid air.
Blushing cheeks of summer rose,
stem the midnight’s soft repose,
hints of jasmine in your hair.

Within your deepest eyes, a smile,
transfixed, transposed in time, the while,
about you snowflakes swarm.
All angels draw their gaze on you,
our eyes, your eyes, here frozen, two,
yet still I find your lips are warm.

Ah! Winter’s night, within the storm,
impassioned hearts removed, reborn,
upon the white and virgin snow,
alive this moment, as lovers, know,
this moment, hallowed, sacred.

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Filed under Nature, Perspective, Poetry, True Love

Her Full Moon Haunt

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Cast across the virgin snow,
a starkly naked silhouette,
contrast black on diamond white,
full moon with no regret.

Thinly, night airs acquiesce
within a hushed reluctant freeze,
draws her limbs above her,
till shadow’s edge is crisply teased.

No sound or whisper wants,
her silent solace, her lonely stead,
grief, a separate solitude
through dreams of summer’s weeping dead.

She stands alone as beauty.
She nurses bold courageous stirs.
She haunts this meadow, her duty
in echoed light that’s solely hers.

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Filed under Nature, Perspective, Photography, Poetry

The Silent Quiet of Age

Still the silent quiet of age steeps rich this moment, reflecting,
echoes just what hopes deny in truth’s cold introspecting.
No fear, here, within the pause caught and loosely locked.
Just awe respecting shadow’s keep amongst the greying, flocked.

Peace gathers warm in knowing,
treasured paths and journeys made,
rest in sweetened summer fields beside the rill and glade.

Ripened in the setting sun,
kisses’ pure, seduction brings
the whispered scent of lilac twixt my golden locks, in rings.

Oh! my heart weeps openly,
for home and love’s sweet hand,
yet aging now, my courting call,
returns my lust to dust and sand.

Shed not a tear for me, for I am ne’er gone away.
But find me in this whispered breeze upon a low and setting ray,
for I’ll see you there.
I’ll touch your young and flowing hair.
I’ll dance about you in delight!
I’ll raise the thrush to song and flight,
that you may sense me here…
my pipe and whiskers smiling, dear.

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Filed under Dreams, Memory, Nature, Perspective, Poetry, Universal Soul

Broken Dawn

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Painted thin beneath the dawn, a steel grey world rejoices morn,
tho nothing in this moment’s play gives rise to thought that hope is born.

Slow breezes bite and fiercely gnaw at stalks of summer’s grasses, downed.
Cattails’ chorus, stiff and brash, mourning in a whispered sound.
Tattered, torn, hollow reeds of spring’s seductive blushing,
crushed beneath the ice and snow, tossed in panic’s rushing.

Horizon holds the key. No hint of warmth is brought from thee.

Blackened poplar drives a nail of hopelessness in slivers,
renouncing dawning light’s quick glimpse. The distance holds a shiver.
Ice in flows from aged snows pins here and there to earth,
beneath a solid mastic flood where none escape its scattered girth.

Bitter. Uncontained. Eternal death and grey’s disdain.

Yet notice how the dawning light paints rivulets of frosted time.
Feel the sharp awareness build a frozen poise, sublime.
How perfectly the pain’s displayed
in grass and reed whose cattails fray.
How true the starving tree defies
the threat of death, the naked cries
of hungry ice in winter’s hand
tossed by driven wind’s demand.
How every frozen rivulet sustained in waves upon the ground,
stretches sensual, luxurious, across the patchy earth it drowns.

In supplication, mourning songs drift through the meadow’s air,
holding vigil, holding patience, while whispering a prayer.
The ghosts of summer haunt here, captured and betrayed,
to paint this lea horrifically, requited here in death, displayed.

Oh! Sorrow in this languid sight
that draws the bitter morn from night,
for winter’s step has just begun,
much more of what is here will come.

Spring, the hope and harbinger of dreams in softened virile soil,
yet only clings in beauty’s mask within this season’s toil.
Yet hope remains in hopelessness, when death and sleeping cast their play,
for time is what will take them past the frozen grace that runs this day.

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Filed under Nature, Perspective, Photography, Poetry

Crystal Breath

Paused before the frozen lea,
in subtle murmured rhythm,
a hidden rill in whisper sings
a quiet song of heaven.

Alpine giants upon their knees,
stretch low to earth to listen,
their sacred prayer hushed in woods
whose sun kissed boughs of emerald glisten.

No single soul disturbs the peace
within this supplication,
gently blessing winter’s love
across the drifting white’s elation.

In witness stands a wolf in grey,
transfixed upon a slope and seam,
lone with head in reverent bow,
eyes closed in silent dream.

His crystal breath moves round him,
in echo to the rill’s sweet song,
drawn in single dawning ray
suspended ‘cross the meadow long.

Upon the morning field of white
a sea of diamonds stretch in fire,
blending blue and gold to bathe
this single prayer’s pyre.

Hidden at the forest’s edge
my heart and soul hold hallowed praise,
in awe of God’s sweet secret here,
enrapt by dawning’s brilliant rays.

What gentle hands that grant such peace,
what blessed soul entreats us,
what love blends balance in this day
with life and hope to keep us.

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Filed under Grey Wolf, Mountains, Nature, Perspective, Poetry, Universal Soul