Lullaby For Trees

“Lullaby for Trees”

The glow of silver trees against blue sky;
against that deepest royal blue’s delight.
White blankets meant to beautify each limb
with loving care, how nature covers them.

The trees so loved by nature’s wintry blast
it seems some artist covers to contrast.
Her deepest hue encircles icy trim
with loving care, how nature covers them!

To some, its nature’s deadly, frozen cost;
to others, it’s a message from some host.
Such honor sent to each as holy hymn
with loving care, how nature covers them.

The trees bejeweled now with breathless hue;
their branches blaze against an endless blue.
With adoration for their mother’s hymn.
With loving care, how nature covers them.

 

Kyrielle form: aa; bB; cc; bB; dd; bB; ee; bB (last line in each stanza is repeated) Meter: Iambic Pentameter

Ezra Pound Manifesto

The passion’s free without pentameter.

The word, more than the sum of all its parts.

Oppose the cosmic poet’s well-worn phrase.

Descriptive hue; green, sunlit energy.

Free, open verse: eternity’s white space.

The spirit: forlorn faces in a crowd.

Imagine death: ghost-blossoms on a bough.

MVC-005Sphoto by Jacqueline Casey

The End of Eden

The End of Eden”Eve

Eve offered it to Adam: “Take a bite!”

Meanwhile, the devil wormed his slimy way

into the apple’s core and out of sight.

“Hey, Eve, where did you find this fruit today?”

My friend, the snake, said ‘eat it’ and I did.”

As Eve complained her stockings had a run,

poor Adam tasted evil that was hid.

They say the silkworm had such enterprise

began as root of fashion in his day.

And was a way the devil could devise

to cost poor Adam all his daily pay.

Oh, Eden’s lost; our hero’s doomed they say

when Eve did stitch a fig leaf round his bay.

 

 

“The End of Love”

credit: Dreamstime.com

“The End of Love”

That end to our emotions mixed with doubt.
That chill is in the air and she’s a thief.
Her danse macabre comes with September’s rout
when green things turn and wither with relief.

When colors drunk with abnormality
cry out; their bloody cost then tossed to ground.
Their voices hushed. Dry, crackled brevity.
Plain-parted things, their dust cannot be found.

Forgotten now.  Dead thought without a trace.
And no one may recall our summer bloom.
That part of us inflamed with our embrace
now cold; dispersed to darker, solemn gloom.

Oh, dance, dear heart, before our final year;
before our fateful day brings winter’s sere.

When Love is Gone

A world abandoned,  nature now attends.

She grows her roving vines; surrounds the door.

The sound of children’s play is heard no more.

Around the gnarled roots that grow and stray

she grabs at windows once held curtain’s sway.

No human voices echo through her halls

No more the roaming Jasmine odor calls.

What mystery escapes her stucco walls?

What place is this once held such loveliness?

Mad roots now rave and overrun her past.

They strangle unknown cause so long forgot.

When love is gone, then covered is the heart.

overgrown house

The View From My Back Door

Snow
Photo by Jacqueline Casey

The glow of silver trees against blue sky
against a deeper royal blue ally
as snow now blankets each and every limb
with loving care, their mother covers them.

The trees so loved by nature’s wintry blast
it seems some artist covers to contrast.
Her richest blue encircles icy trim
with loving care, their mother covers them!

To some, a dark and deadly, frozen fear;
to others, it’s a message that they hear:
Such honor sent to each not as some whim.
With loving care, their mother covers them.

The trees bejeweled still with breathless hue;
their branches blaze against an endless blue.
They bow in adoration for her hymn;
with loving care, their mother covers them.

Form: Kyrielle: AA;BB;CC;bB;DD;bB;EE;bB
(from my kitchen door in Murphy, NC)

A Quiet Place

My prayer is mute

as hummingbird

whose pause is heard

mid hurried ohm

flutters wings

tips over open bud

and hovers, huddles home

in silent poem.

leucistic-albino-annas-hummingbird-flowerphoto by Sallie Rae Kimmel, California (a Leucistic, Anna’s Hummingbird)

 

 

“Starlight”

Van-Gogh.-Starry-Night-469x376

Starlight

Stars curl across the evening sky:
soulful, spinning out of sight.
So Van Gogh wants all to know
starry, vivid, glowing night.
Still, his canvas sings to us:
Shouts out to shining faithful
Swirling starlight with his brush.


Above called the “Pleiades” form.

Form invented in 1999 by Craig Tigerman, Sol Magazine’s Lead Editor. Only one word is allowed in title followed by a single seven-line stanza. The first word in each line begins with the same letter as the title. Hortensia Anderson, a popular haiku and tanka poet, added her own requirement of restricting the line length to six syllables. (I have restricted mine to 7 in honor of the seven sisters).

Background of the Pleiades: The Pleiades is a star cluster in the constellation Taurus. It is a cluster of stars identified by the ancients, mentioned by Homer in about 750 B.C and Hesiod in about 700 B.C. Six of the stars are readily visible to the naked eye.  Depending on visibility conditions,  between nine and twelve stars can be seen. Modern astronomers note that the cluster contains over 500 stars. The ancients named these stars the seven sisters: Alcyone, Asterope, Celaeno, Electra, Maia, Merope, and Tygeta; nearby are the clearly visible parents, Atlas and Pleione.

The Spider Woman’s Waltz

Blue Moon
“The Spider Woman’s Waltz”


She dances in my head as in a dream
and raven are her eyes as onyx blown.
As Autumn steps into her bleaker scene
chill mist is in the air; cold-to-the-bone.

“Oh, waltz with me”, said she; “Our time is brief
and through the hills and valleys, dancing, go!
I’ll bind your webs of old, remembered grief
and in the quiet moonlight’s golden glow.”

The music of the spider woman’s waltz
reminds me of a heart once in your care.
Now wilted, waste-filled memories repulse.
Old love’s forgotten and my branches bare.

Was on a night like this her glancing gloom
did overtake my soul; my heart entomb.

 

Life’s a Beach

Flamingo (2)“Life’s a Beach”
Hello, you hula-skirted palm tree’s sway.
I hear a ukulele’s wistful song.
It’s borne upon the breeze that floats my way
as shiny shells in water roll along.
The scent of seaweed and the cry of gull
beneath the yellow sun that glistens where
the rushing waves of water stir my soul.
My footprints find a soft reception there.
A dram of seaside air _a brew sublime_
a rippled shoreline I cannot resist.
A booming surf, my wanton friend, divine.
My heart is with your windy, sky-blown kiss.
Hello, my love of many youthful days.
Life’s still a beach so many blissful ways.