Tranquility
always
tranquil, a maple leaf
floating on a
still pond
mirror of a white cloud
a ripple vanished.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Swan ~ A Villanelle
Floating upon the crystal pond
She kept wearing her diamond crown
While the other white swan was gone
Never doubting their fierce loving bond
As the leaves went from reddish to brown
Floating upon the crystal pond
Her blue eyes searching far beyond
Couldn't see that he'd recently drowned
While the other white swan was gone
So curling, becoming withdrawn
When ten suns in the sky settled down
Floating upon the crystal pond
She talked to the geese that were blond
And asked where he was with a frown
While the other white swan was gone
They cared not and didn't respond
In the reeds was a kings golden crown
Floating upon the crystal pond
While the other white swan was gone
poem by Sara Fielder
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I Could Have Told You
THAT YELLOW
SOLO LEAF floating on a very clear pond,
was it last summer?
will it really matter when someone is finally gone?
will the wind remember?
will the deep water of the pond be always true to its clarity and peace?
that yellow leaf that sank on the very clear pond on one peaceful day
will someone still remember?
i think, i will,
if i, too, shall live
longer than
you.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A Kingfisher On A Dead Tree
on a glass pond
a dead tree stands
perched is a kingfisher
on one of its weak twigs
i sit alone on a
rock thinking about nothing
i must have been lost
this day
blue wings and some
white feathers on the neck
black sharp beak
the kingfisher looks at me
a leaf falls on the glass pond
the eyes of the kingfisher
and my eyes ride on the ripple
like small paper boats
going nowhere
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Delphiniums Of Blue
Come follow me down the garden path,
Past the flowerbeds, planted neat.
Around the sweetbriar's scented hedge,
To the old carved wooden seat.
A tranquil arbour, where within its shade,
Lies a sheltered quiet place.
We'll hear music from the singing birds,
And let our eyes embrace.
There's clematis along the grey stone wall,
There's a maple's vivid hue.
Pots of red and pink geraniums,
And delphiniums of blue.
The pond's azure sky, mirror image,
Under which the goldfishes play.
Elegant water lilies with their floating leaves,
Recall a painting by Monsieur Monet.
This garden is a treasure and a blessing,
Just to wander in between the flowers,
To feel an informality and a freedom,
Whilst whiling away the hours.
Hold my hand and we will silently marvel,
At the beauty that nature can wear.
In this bower that's so hidden and secluded,
We'll start our secret love affair.
poem by Ernestine Northover
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I Keep A Place Where Everything Is Neither Sacred Nor Mundane
it is a place where
what i touch i can touch
where what i smell i can smell
with all freedom
where i can undress and look at my body
and see for myself the innermost chamber of my heart
where my soul sings for me the real songs of my life
there is a pond there
where i lay myself down where i can stare at myself
through the eyes of my being
at peace
the pond is a mirror where i can view the whole of my world
its face without any wrinkle its body without any ripple
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Oddfellowship in Woodstock
Well tell a tale, it shall be brief
It is of rise of Maple Leaf,
From noble Olive Branch it sprung,
And its good deeds shall yet be sung ;
This Encampment, though in its youth,
Glories in friendship, love, and truth
Of all our lodges yet the chief
May be this youthful Maple Leaf ;
Built of good timber, it doth launch
Well worthy of the Olive Branch,
And though it only is a shoot
We hope that it will take deep root,
And soon be vigorous Maple tree
In Canada so broad and free.
And may its usefulness ne'er cease
Sprung from the Olive Branch of peace,
But comfort brothers in distress,
Widows and orphans it will bless,
And console them in their grief,
Protected by the Maple Leaf.
Poor travellers in the wilderness
They oft do suffer great distress,
But may no pilgrim get rude shock
Sojourning here in Woodstock.
poem by James McIntyre
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Galatea Encore
As though the mercury's under its tongue, it won't
talk. As though with the mercury in its sphincter,
immobile, by a leaf-coated pond
a statue stands white like a blight of winter.
After such snow, there is nothing indeed: the ins
and outs of centuries, pestered heather.
That's what coming full circle means -
when your countenance starts to resemble weather,
when Pygmalion's vanished. And you are free
to cloud your folds, to bare the navel.
Future at last! That is, bleached debris
of a glacier amid the five-lettered "never."
Hence the routine of a goddess, nee
alabaster, that lets roving pupils gorge on
the heart of color and the temperature of the knee.
That's what it looks like inside a virgin.
poem by Joseph Brodsky
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Maple Leaf
I watched a maple leaf’s descent to ground.
It’s downward swaying motion, every now
And then a pirouette without a sound
Until it came to rest so gently down.
I asked myself: A life so brief and yet
So beautiful, is life to be defined
By lasting time and taken for granted?
To go around in circles disinclined
To find profundity-Sad existence!
Ah! But the leaf, its purpose foreordained:
To live a measured life, a subsistence
Profound in many ways and unrestrained.
To waste a lengthy life, so incomplete
I’d sooner live my life a maple leaf.
poem by Albert Ahearn
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Moonlight Sestina
While reading Li Po, I fall
Asleep, and dream of the moon
My body lies on white
Cool sheets, flooded in a pool
Of moonlight. Lost in a dream
I lie in light, floating.
Like a full moon floating
On waves, I feel the fall
And rise, the tide of these dream
Currents. Closer, the moon
Approaches to my pool
Of flesh, shining me white.
From the glare of waxing white,
Gauze curtains – breeze floating -
Shield this rippling pool,
Become a waterfall,
And break the mirror moon-
Light through wet prisms, I dream.
Is this Shechinah? my dream
Self asks. At once the cold white
Chills me to ice. The moon
Swells until it's a floating
City, waiting to fall -
Atlantis – in the pool.
I yearn to be that pool
Skin, transparent as dream.
Instead I fear the moon fall:
I cannot part the white
Sea of thighs, Still floating
Whole, I cry to the moon:
“I am not ready, Moon”
Silence shimmers my pool,
But brightness fades, Floating
Away. Then from the dream
I emerge, weeping white
Tears that shine like star-fall.
Li Po's moon plunge sank dream
Deep. Whirlpool of lunar white
Drowns us; floating, we fall.
poem by Lillian Susan Thomas
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Leaves (thread)
under the dogwood
leaves cover
a cat’s grave
early spring
one leaf still dangles
from the tree
palmistry
dew drops on a leaf
pick a vein
widow’s diary
pressed rose petal
the last leaf
with the rain drops
leaves flutter to the ground
fall showers
fallen leaves
circusing in the grass
merry-go-wind
October shower
leaves in the gutter
disembark
leaves changing colors
across the landscape
season's chameleons
morning rain
under maple leaves
tap my shoulder
leaves ripple
with melodies
cicadas song
These were published online by Sketchbook. See September/October “leaves” Haiku thread:
poem by Ben Gieske
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At a koi pond in a nursery
When her fingers
lightly ripple the water,
a row of fishes
dart to come to investigate.
Fins cut through the water
and big eyes,
come to look
near to the surface.
Big and small bright coloured koi’s
dash past through the water,
while dark fresh water crayfish
crawl on the bottom of the pond.
The ripple on the water
rings out wider and wider,
till where it disappears in to eternity.
.
In my hart the sound
of the beautiful day resounds,
while I stand fascinated
at the fish pond.
poem by Gert Strydom
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Haunting reflection's
Mirror
Mirror
I am a killer
Mirror
Mirror
I have a heart that merely beats
Without sound
Mirror
Mirror
I am cold
Mirror
Mirror
I am tearless
Mirror
Mirror
I am the devil in white
poem by Noorie Ali
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As Huge As A Cruise Ship
as huge as cruise ship sailing on the ocean
as wide and broad as your dreams
as high as the sky as bright as the sun
as mellow as the moon yellow
floating on the silver river
as silent as the dark night as tranquil as the dew
as calm as the pond as cool as the wind from the sea
as beautiful as sweetly scented as a rose
so shall my love be for you.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Fall to Earth
The stubborn little Maple leaf
held on when all its fellows fled.
They carpeting the ground beneath
a vast lushscape of gold and red.
Leaf held on through wind and rain,
the last survivor of its race.
Leaf held on past Turkey day
maintaining there its pride of place.
Then Leaf grew lonely, I suppose-
Like the summer's final rose.
Leaf envied then the flakes of snow
Who fluttered past to their repose.
Then, just as winter came to call,
Leaf felt a tug and then a snap.
Flying, tumbling on the winds
Fall to Earth. Fade to black.
poem by John F. McCullagh
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On A Clear Morning
on a clear morning
the farmer
has just finished plowing
his field
the rain comes
and fills
the muddy field
with more water
a mirror is placed
and the sky look upon
itself
a very white sky
on a crystal clear rain water
a white heron from the green mountain
glides in perfect lightness
on the mirror of water
daintily it walks
and i see not a single ripple
on its feet
on a clear morning
the world is at peace with me.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Our World
The humming bird stood still
and raised it's wings waiting.
I drew my breath
and gave a gentle breeze
and it flew away.
A ripple from a dropped leaf
lands gently on the pond
and wavy sweet
rows flow
making tiny circles
to the center of the pond.
I touch a single rose
and it purrs.
.
I draw my breath
and exhale
deep into your lungs;
where mix
all things
between us.
All life is touch
and breaths offered.
All life
is gentle given
or badly rough.
All life is mixed
between the us
and the not us.
These exchanges
make up
what we know
as the World.
Be a gentle breather
not the badly rough.
poem by Lonnie Hicks
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Keep Listening Still
when our friends finally abandon us
we are still lucky
to have us: me myself and I,
NOW, there is no need to adjust
and chart what the other
needs
what amount of light must this room
have
what shape must the window be
half-open or wide open to see
the long stretch of the road beyond
this room
narrow and noisy with the other
when everything fails
do not ponder upon any loss or regret
how useless and faulty have you become
there is no use
the world moves on
the ship sails still
when made to choose between the joy of the crowd
when you cannot afford it
choose silence instead
purify the mind
live in the solitude of the soul
like a pond without a ripple
however, when a leaf falls (another metaphor for death
or failure)
welcome it
for such shall become your
wise company
listen to the duet
of leaf and water.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Mirror Struggled
The mirror struggled; reflecting beauty such as hers
Prescribed a glory in the challenge – a fairytale
Or such as like! To shimmer back hypnotic hues
From auras of her skin – how do mirrors cope?
Hoary tales of pretty adolescent buds
Could never hope to match the tomes of dreamy
Pulchritude apprising us of such a belle as she.
The mirror shone; and as it worked itself, a moment –
Did it overlook the hidden melancholy?
Were melting eyes bedewed–? Florid lips imbued
With mournfulness? The hindrance of the silver glass!
Oh! to seek – to know the meaning of the sorrow!
She (with tearful hair, an image out of heaven)
Never opened up her heart. The mirror struggled.
Copyright Mark R Slaughter 2009
m irror mirror mirror - mirror mirror mirror
mirror mirror mirror - mirror mirror mirror
mirror mirror mirror - mirror mirror mirror
mirror mirror mirror - mirror mirror mirror
mirror mirror mirror - mirror mirror mirror
mirror mirror mirror - mirror mirror mirror
mirror mirror mirror - mirror mirror mirror
mirror mirror mirror - mirror mirror mirror
poem by Mark R Slaughter
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God is here....
last night i had a very sound sleep
it felt like a still pond without a fish
but only moss and stone and light
like there was a full moon
drifting among the tree tops
no ripple of the air from the winds of the sea
and i remember what i dream
no bridges and flood below this time
it was like a Chinese painting of a river and mountains behind
it was so peaceful
that i can hear the sound of the leaf falling from its branch
and i told myself
this is home,
this is heaven
and what i have been dreaming has become all too true
i now, believe,
God is here.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Mirror Mirror
Mirror mirror
You tell lies
Who put crows feet
Round my eyes?
Mirror mirror
Hanging there
Who put that grey
In my hair?
Mirror mirror
Is that me
Is that really
Me I see?
Mirror Mirror
Stop your fun
That's not me
That is my mum
Mirror mirror
Don't stare back
For it's bad luck
If you should crack
Mirror mirror
On days like these
When what I see
Doesn't please
Mirror mirror
My mood this day
Will ask you turn
The other way!
poem by Stevie Taite
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