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 Jan 2017
RJW
tree spirits beckoned
through pools of dawn's blushing glow
trees silvered seeping with soft musk and hazel
their lilting throngs of whispering tilleul arms
splitting misted air into swirls of hushed enchantment
pressed into the grass with strokes of emerald shade
etched into that twisting turret
lines
a hundred
each a miniature scroll of letters and words
blazing through sap and bark and bramble
each a sample of language
the ancient and vast
ink of sun's blood, gilt and dragon's fire
A dream ~
 Jan 2017
ryn
The box remained shut.
His fingers probe but with invisible eyes.
Finding the clasp that had forgotten the last time.
With the lid pried open,
the dancer would soon arise.

•••••

As expected, she rose...
Accompanied by a tune, truly a haunting sound.
She slid and pirouetted.
She fulfilled the promise to which she was bound.

Her routine was well rehearsed.
She embodied the music, as it carried her.
It mattered not if it was for a single audience.
She cared not if there was no other.

She performed like she might never again,
she inhaled the moment like it was her last.
She sung the song silent like she always would,
she embraced her dance like sail unto mast.

Then the melody slowed,
as the tension in the spring
played itself unwound.
This day for her, had drawn to a close...
But renewed hope for a new one is found.

•••••

He hesitated before resting the lid upon its case.
He caressed his dancer as his eyes start to smart.
His ears would yearn for the song in his head...
He would surely miss the dancer in his heart.

But he knows
when days grow dark
and filled with strife.
The music box lies ready...
And his dancer will again
come to life.
 Jan 2017
K Balachandran
Sylvie, I am alone here
doing nothing, except
thinking about you,
in a meditative trance.

It's a beautiful feeling Sylvie
strange, I don't miss you,even!
I imagine you as an awakening  flower
of changing colors and petals
You are in a whirl of realization.

Then a lone tree you are,
near a vast,waveless  lake
what an intriguing  koan,
to churn my inner sea.

You're nowa drifting white cloud
all through the kaleidoscopic shifts
I forget to think,what would I be
in relation with your whims,spectacular


Beyond apparitions, I search for  meaning
that  eludes, as it is fathomless

I hear the song of the lonely star, so near
and realize,"I am the light of the burning star"

Sylvie, I can't remember
neither you nor me exactly
or the distant star that sings
a song in the tunes of light years


You were from the forest, Sylvie
I used to be the mountain wind
that once caressed the forest trees.
Sylvie, we are one; the imagination
of the waves of light, beyond time.
 Dec 2016
Kelly Rose
You have given my life grace and beauty
Offering your light when darkness filled me
Never has your love felt like some duty
No, you have filled my life with joyous glee

Offering your light when darkness filled me
You gave me courage to discard the hate
No, you have filled my life with joyous glee
Always, you make me feel lovely and great

You gave me courage to discard the hate
Allowing me to discover my way
Making me feel like your wife and soul mate
And always meeting me more than halfway

Allowing me to discover my way
Is a gift beyond compare, truly
And always meeting me more than halfway
You have given my life grace and beauty

Kelly Rose
© December 24, 2016
The cloth I gave it as cover for chill
is lying still.

Christmas eve was its last night.

Not that I knew
when picked it up
and gave it back
to the cold night.

I'm still holding it
heavy and invisible
on my heart
as my eyes repeat the scene
of crows pecking out its eyes
the head rolling on the earth
eyes closed.

I close my eyes
scared life could be so thin a thread
barely holding
and incredibly uncertain.
I am sad beyond words, my kitten Laloo died mysteriously sometime last night. I'm sorry if it spoils your joy of Christmas.
p.s. thanks friends, you really helped me to bear, grateful to you all.
 Dec 2016
South-by-Southwest
I looked outside
my windows to see
a yellow butterfly
flying south
for the rest
of winter
you see

It dived through
where the roses
used to be
The day lilies
long withered
and no irises
there to be

Bounding over
the fence so fast
this creature surely
must be
tough as nails
For frost and freeze
has coated grass
and comes
nipping at it's
yellow tails

A few dips
of it's yellow wings
and it has disappeared
out of sight
Leaving me in awe
and disbelief
I hope it makes it's
journey complete
True story .
 Dec 2016
Onoma
As this Sunday afternoon
writes itself into existence...
pine needles ****** fine
crowns of sunlight.
Depths of shadow have
entered into states of
reverence...along a pine
tree.
 Dec 2016
r
To all of you poets
down South and up North
West and to the East
whoever you are
whatever your beliefs
I wish you much joy
happiness and peace
for on this one night
at least think no more
of spite, anger and war
sickness, sorrow or grief
for wherever you are
may kindness be the star
that lights all of our ways.
Peace to you, holy poets.
There was a handmade cake on my table
and a letter with immature hand:

I start with this
but know that
whenever and wherever I bake a cake
you'll be in my mind.


It tasted not that sweet
I remember
and she was never to make another
in my corners of bitter December.

I have no other Christmas memory.

There couldn't be.
In remembrance of a girl who could not be a woman, but was almost, as God withdrew the angel too soon.
Interwoven with my Christmas memory.
 Dec 2016
SE Reimer
(a tribute; if mere words could be enough)

~

the life of this River,
'tis an unending stream;
is an unpublished book,
its current fast at flood;
a flow that washes clean,
all the gathered debris;
its words like diamonds,
sparkling neath its lapping
waters at its river bank;
a sound refreshing,
hushes the rush in my mind,
calling to my soul.
where does the river go at night,
and whence flows its waters
when hidden, out of sight?
its flow is eternal to the sea;
a place of waters gathering,
of floods heaping,
of reflection's seeking,
where still waters lie,
where the hand of friendship
holds and lifts all who venture
to its depth where feet
can touch no longer
the point where most
would flounder
become a place of calm
of peaceable retreat without
and deep within
a flow of tears for thee!

~

post script.

a heart on sleeve composure,
for he who knows the River best!
who's breath is water deep,...
who's heart beat its very current!

added 12-13-16
my dearest HP friends, i want to thank you for this Daily and for your generous words, though i cannot truly claim this credit for my own.  those of you who have walked these halls with me for a few years will read between the lines and will know precisely for whom this tribute is written.  he is become to me one of a small handful of poetry mentors and it was a moment of great appreciation for his artistic talent that inspired these words... words that tumbled from this pen as a rush, and in mere minutes.  such is he, that he inspired this spill of words; a flood that i would not claim for my own.  to he who knows, thank you, my friend... this River... these and this belongs to you!!
I do not need,
nor do I ever want
anyone to quiet or silence my mind...

I want to paint a picture
with every colour
that is alive,
that is screaming out loud,
that is dying to come out proud,
whilst it resides inside me.

The only way
that I can possibly do this articulately
is by speaking the only fluent language
that I know - the language of Poetry.

~ I only speak Poetry.

By Lady R.F ©2016
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