Corners folding over
Darkness sliding down
I’m ink-fading
Paper-quaking
A blackberry-hearted
Fingerpricked failing.
Sometimes sweet enough
To stain your lips
And sometimes
Purple-centred,
Offering maggot-laden kiss.
Toes up!
Leave me ’til Michaelmas
And let the devil take me:
The world keeps turning
Night to day to night
With brambled yearning
Full of wordy thorns
And thorny words wrapt tight
I’ll bind my thoughts.
I won’t be yours.
Beyond the Fog
By Jesi Scott
Find your way o’er enchanted seas
Loose the sail and catch the breeze
Bring your heart and bend the knee
Come and stay with me
Seize the day and make your start
Don’t be blinded by the dark
Stay the course, the fog will part
Come and claim my heart
In the earth, we’ll delight
We, the heavens will excite
Love is always our birthright
Dance with me tonight
Loose the sail and catch the breeze
Bring your heart and be at ease
Find your way and live care free
Come and stay with me
Watch her beautiful face, how it shines
Round and full,
But not smooth…
No, her skin is not smooth at all.
Her face is showing her age,
Marked with cracks and crags,
Blemishes upon the white surface.
No matter how much she powders it,
The scars show through.
And so, she slowly loses her confidence,
Begins to turn away from me
And hide.
Every night I tell her how lovely she is,
Profess my love for her and her missing smile.
It takes a while,
But ever so gracefully she turns back around
And shines her light on me again.
How beautiful she is, my moon-
Aged and scarred, yes,
But beautiful, nevertheless.
The prompt for this week from Poets On the Page was to write a poem about cycles. What better correlation to make than the comparison between women and the moon?
Forest leaves fall
Into a nocturne lake
Reflecting the deep waters
Of a celestial sea
Merging to meet
The purpling vineyard horizon
That brightens basalt bark
And Oregon coastal sands
Kissed by the pearlescent waves
Of a winter ocean.
*I came up with this poem while knitting on a shawl on a rainy day listening to Moon by George Winston-the name of the colors of the yarn I am using are in the poem: Forest, Nocturne, Deep Waters, Vineyard, Basalt, Oregon Coast, and Pearlescent. Everything-yarn, words, music-joined together in one peaceful, harmonic moment. Proof that inspiration can come from anything.
The sky is morning-fresh
And dazzling blue-ly
The sun is shining down
And warming through-ly
The lip-numb wind whisks
Leaves all crackle-snappy
My soul soars – I am HERE
And I am happy
Bird-plundered branches
Full of berries bright
Stretch joyfully
Enwrapped in Texan light
The red bird peers
Wise-eyed and cardinally
He sees I’m HERE, at peace
And I am happy
The walkers wander by
On hilly trail
I’ve stopped in thought
Ensunned, to muse my tale
The challenges fade ‘gainst Now
For Now is truly
So right, so good, so HERE
And I am happy.
Drops still soak my shirt, but now they’re warm
I’m safe behind the wheel and looking on
As rolling gentle farmland flanks my way
Soft cloud-lit hills ere misting into grey
The air is warm and laced with summer rain
And thunder rumbles overhead again
The fields are patchworked; crop with fallow earth
In some, abundance, there, in others, dearth
Yet e’en amidst the long beheaded stalks
And stems, the crows and pigeons take their walks
To peck and fill each hungry feathered beak;
To worms and bugs a fast-pecked death they wreak
Ahead the tarmac greys and folds and dips
All runnel-pooled, fresh-washed and water slicked
Above, the boughs of trees reach out – hold hands
Unload sparkling fat drops across the land
And wreathing through the air across the fields
The forerunning scent of autumn woodsmoke yields
Hedgerows green yet now bedecked with brown
Where summer flowers have faded, seeds have grown
And wait their turn for scattering autumn breeze
To shake them free and grant new life’s release
For now, tangled, content amongst the briars
Where dark-juice berries draw hungry mouthed admirers
Here and there the fields of fattened summer grain
Hang soaking heads, with hopes to rise again
And ripen off in searing perfect sun
Complete in harvest-time, the season done
I hope for them blue skies will return soon
And for myself; not ready to face the gloom
Further on, a festival is in process
Great stage, watch-towers; a mark of human progress
To pitch in fields and celebrate the arts
Embrace life, and music, welcoming the parts
Acknowledging, rain-washed, their beauteous goals
To touch us deep in our aesthetic souls
Yet canvas-pods and crowds cannot compare
To simple beauty – forests; birdsong; there
Is everything an aesthete e’er could need
And in those vistas I could only heed
The landscape, silent, drenched in August glory
Yet mere footnotes in nature’s season-story
Hunkered down
In green-gold light
Dappled skin
Hold me tight
Surrounded by
The scent of you
Caress then scratch
I’m sunblushed too
Nuzzling in
In search of fruit
Close my eyes
Let scent take root
Leafy fingers
Stroke my face
Flash of red
In shade’s embrace
Lowered head
To taste your flesh
Sweet, bright smile
Your juice so fresh
Soft-fruit ripple
Twixt my lips
Mmm, give it up
Your raspberry kiss.
Lo! And there the first glimpse can be seen
Twixt piles of soft and billowing clouds
Shining through the gaps and in between
Gradually her glory is displayed, inspired
It seems, to oh-so-slowly play ‘reveal’
For dusk, but now she sets the sky on fire
Golden fingers, arcing through, and deep
Into the cloud-bed, turning it to vapours
Incredible moments you just want to keep
Let her fill your soul; slow down and savour
As she shines and brightens all your edges
Sit back – enjoy – each night a different flavour
Lie back as she spreads her light atop the earth
Welcome her with open heart and outstretched arms
She is the bringer of light and warmth, hope and worth
She’ll dance with zephyrs, seeking to fill every space
Bask in her and surely she’ll delight to shine:
Pour sunbeam kisses on your upturned face
Let her paint your world rich in golden splendour
She’ll sparkle in your veins and gild your shadows
Before the night is here, no doubt you will surrender
She’ll take your breath away; you’ll ne’er forget
The exquisite glory of her going down
Each night for your eyes only – perfect; sunset.
Cool-morning peace
Of a rain washed world
Waiting to drip-dry.
Dewdrop encrusted leaves
Gradually let their load fall
In diamond sparkling drips.
I can sit
And think, therefore
I am in heaven: my haven
Where bright sea meets azure sky
The place where dreams can come alive
To entertain, delight, or just pass time
Yet at my will they disappear Continue reading
The Well Tempered Bards 