Delta Rain
Soft rain
on dark oaks
Clustered green
curving canyons rise
to velvet crease.
Thick mists consume
stoic cattle,
slowly climbing
verdant slopes.
Meadows gather
new-born lakes.
Delta birds -
grebe and pensive loon,
goldeneye and pintail,
ibis and snowy egret
slowly wade.
With flashing beak
they break
black waters.
poem by Steven Federle
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Grizzly Island Road
Soft sky, blue and white
cloud swelling over low hills,
and delta waters,
twilight sloughs
calling to geese and egret,
kingfisher and mallard
to lounge in waving reeds
as grazing cattle linger
in verdant valley.
Like a river the road flows
down to the sacred sea,
to the deep, living stream
of Earth.
poem by Steven Federle
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A Song Of Spring
The Spring comes slowly up this way,
Slowly, slowly,
Under a snood of hodden grey.
The black and white for her array,
Slowly, slowly,
The Spring comes slowly up this way.
Where is her green that was so gay?
Slowly, slowly,
The Spring comes slowly up this way.
Unto a world too sick for May,
Slowly, slowly,
The Spring comes slowly up this way.
Where are the lads that used to play?
Slowly, slowly,
The Spring comes slowly up this way.
She has no heart for holiday,
Slowly, slowly,
The Spring comes slowly up this way.
The trees are out in Heaven they say.
Slowly, slowly,
The Spring comes slowly up our way.
poem by Katharine Tynan
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Goldeneye
(bono, the edge)
Producer: nellee hooper
Albums: wildest dreams (96), goldeneye soundtrack (95)
See reflections on the water
More than darkness in the depths
See him surface and never a shadow
On the wind I feel his breath
Goldeneye, I found his weakness
Goldeneye, hell do what I please
Goldeneye, no time for sweetness
But a bitter kiss will bring him to his knees
Youll never know how I watched you from the shadows as a child
Youll never know how it feels to be the one whos left behind
Youll never know the days and the nights, the tears, the tears Ive cried
But now my time has come and time, time is not on your side
See him move through smoke and mirrors
Feel his presence in the crowd
Other girls they gather around him
If I had him I wouldnt let him out
Goldeneye, not lace or leather
Golden chain take him to the spot
Goldeneye, Ill show him forever
It will take forever to see what Ive got
Youll never know how I watched you from the shadows as a child
Youll never know how it feels to get so close and be denied
Its a gold and honey trap Ive got for you tonight
Revenge is a kiss this time I wont miss
Now Ive got you in my sight
With a goldeneye
Golden, goldeneye
With a goldeneye, goldeneye
song performed by by Tina Turner
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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Through Bright Morning I Run
Through bright morning I run,
eyes brimful with green love
as the silver world sings songs
of golden spring,
and through azure noon I love
how joyful psalms, bird-throated, rise
from verdant hills.
But when the long day ends,
in bright window framed
I see
your dark door.
I will not fear the velvet night.
for in the burning stars,
I see your eyes; in hushed
delta breeze,
I hear your voice
calling me.
poem by Steven Federle
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As slow as you are loving me
Slowly I know
Slowly slowly
I know what
Slow is, how
Is it to be slow
To be very
Slow like
A snail, like
A turtle like
A feather
Falling in air,
Like an ice cube
Melting and
Water dripping
Like you, slowly
Touching me,
Slow as how
Slow as you can
Be slowly loving
Me, slowly killing
Me in this kind
Of love so slow in
Suspended animation
Squeeze me, fleece me, and eke me out,
Crumple me, disarrange me, scatter me
Crease me, fold me, scrunch, crinkle,
Corrugate me, crimp me, and furrow me, ripple & ruffle me;
Jumble me, mess me, I am in love with you.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Beak Kind To Birds!
Beak kind to birds both near and far,
Both high and low as well...
To me, each bird's a superstar!
In fact, to me, they're swell!
Beak kind to birds and show you care
With titbits now and then...
And watch with wonder as they share
Their breakfast once again!
Beak kind and keep your cats at bay...
Else feeding birds take flight!
It's nicer seeing birds at play
Than watching them take fright!
Beak kind to birds, give them their space
So they may co-exist...
For none on Earth can take their place,
So they'd be sorely missed!
Beak kind to birds, they'll flock to you -
They're all our feathered friends!
It doesn't matter, black or blue...
Beak kind - 'cos it makes sense!
poem by Denis Martindale (2003)
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Sunset
The evening wind stirs
our high, green trees,
whispering down the westering sun,
as shadows scale our eastern fence.
The sun surrenders its May heat
to a cooling Suisun breeze,
while already looming
on the eastern horizon,
rising from the gentle green swell
of low delta hills,
the copper moon vaults
into the cobalt,
its ascendant mastery astonishing
even the wading, gazing egret,
as on the other side
of our slowly rolling planet,
the bleeding sun declines,
searching the sea for healing.
Thus, from conflict and transition,
come poise and redemption.
poem by Steven Federle
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We Walk Naked In The Rain
we walk in the rain, we walk naked in the rain
we like the shower in nude, we like the droppings of rain in our nudity
dripping in our curving naked bodies, in eroticism
to all the waters slowly crawling around us to all the dainty showers from above us
the droplets the heavy rain, the coldness dripping in our chins, our lips, pelvis, legs and
toes
and the warmth now enclosed between us.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Adieu! Our Guest Birds
Adieu, our guest birds, adieu!
Adieu, till the next year!
Next year when you'll bring the scriptures of your flight
We would be waiting for you on the lake shore
Earth would feel the return of love
With the soft touch of your silk-soft feathers
But verily till the next year
The waters of the lake will have
The uncouth growth of sedge
Winds will carry the thick sediment of
black dust and smog
Sharp saws of new roads
Would have cut down fields, grassy meadows and thick forests
Into bits and scraps
The hunting seasons will intensify their intrigues.
Adieu! Our guest birds, Adieu!
Till you visit us again the next year
We'll celebrate the sorrow of your return.
poem by Naseer Ahmed Nasir
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As I Grew Older
It was a long time ago.
I have almost forgotten my dream.
But it was there then,
In front of me,
Bright like a sun--
My dream.
And then the wall rose,
Rose slowly,
Slowly,
Between me and my dream.
Rose until it touched the sky--
The wall.
Shadow.
I am black.
I lie down in the shadow.
No longer the light of my dream before me,
Above me.
Only the thick wall.
Only the shadow.
My hands!
My dark hands!
Break through the wall!
Find my dream!
Help me to shatter this darkness,
To smash this night,
To break this shadow
Into a thousand lights of sun,
Into a thousand whirling dreams
Of sun!
poem by Langston Hughes
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The Water Ways
The Water Ways
By Lori Triggs
Copyrighted June 14,2007
Earth was here first…
The rivers, lakes, creeks and oceans was born…
So the water was plangent in the crevices on the earth…
Than the plants with trees was rebirth…
Now came the dinosaurs that lasted millions of years…
Than came the volcanoes that wipe them out…
The reptiles came and still here on a slow decline…
So the mammals with the fish been around for centuries,
But for how long can we say…
Animals with birds been around since dooms day….
You notice they slowly diminishing…
Humans was put on earth last…
They consume in excess in
Water, plants, trees,
Reptiles, mammals, fish,
Animals & birds for money, food even to make a profit call greed…
Human have did toxics
The water with the lands around the earth…
So have they did with reptiles, mammals, fish, animals and birds…
You notice they slowly diminishing…
Humans they are in abounded…
They never die out only cause more harm than good…
They where put on earth by mistake…
So they should be the first to go…
Only one dropp of water…
The ground dried up so no water
Is their a plant or tree to spear to see…
Not a reptile to be seen…
The mammals with fish vanished…
So now the animals and birds are gone…
All is now is dying humans…
Died for excess wasting the earth away.
poem by Lori Triggs
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Snow
The poor ducks paddle in the partially frozen pond.
Farmers’ fields are covered with thick snow beyond.
Bewildered sheep, keep warm in their thick woolly coats.
On toboggans, cheerful children slide down slippery slopes.
Insects and fallen fruit are suddenly nowhere to be found,
By birds and animals, who forage for food upon the ground.
Kindly householders throw out cake crumbs for the birds,
But among the mammals, murmurs of discontent are heard.
Everywhere in sight is decorated with a thick layer of snow;
The world all about, is now either at a stop, or on a go-slow.
Cars slowly wind their way down the narrow country lanes.
The day sees dozens of delays on the slowly running trains.
Delayed or cancelled, are the large fleets of local buses.
In this weather, the whole world crawls: it never rushes.
Drivers furiously scrape clean their frozen windscreens,
Impatient for this world of white to turn back into green.
To the joy of children, many primary schools have been shut;
Many deliveries to households and businesses have been cut.
People in tiny, remote villages are snowed in, and can’t get out.
Clearing the roads, an army of snow-ploughs are out and about.
The skeletal trees, at last, have got some winter decoration,
And are now looked upon with some degree of admiration.
The snow is thick, and will take many a day to disappear;
It will take a while till the road ahead is once again clear.
poem by Angela Wybrow
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Slowly And Surely
slowly but surely
and surely is slow is
and slowly is surely is
a snail climbing its way
up riding upon the merits
of its saliva
slowly, slowly,
winning whining
whining winning
till all of them drop
dead and slowly but surely
does the snail take its pace
as the rabbit
watches upon the tease
of sleep
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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The Cordell
She stands alone,
In the autumn rain.
Watching her life walk away.
The soft thud of,
Slowly disappearing dreams,
On the street.
Dreams muffled,
By the autumn rain.
Slowly fading in the twilight.
He won't look back,
There is something in his eye.
The autumn rain.
A voice deep down says,
Turn around you fool.
As the autumn rain falls.
The mustang sits by the curb,
Rain dripping like tears,
From the windshield.
Even his car is crying,
The car with her smell,
The car she loved so.
He gets in and sits behind the wheel,
And the autumn rain comes again.
Inside the car, briney salty, rain.
Looking in the rearview mirror,
He sees her silhouette.
Through his tears and the autumn rain.
Slowly the fastback pulls away,
From the curb.
Leaving her standing by the Cordell,
In the autumn rain.
8/12/12 Alton Texas.
poem by Juan Olivarez
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Blue and Yellow!
The creeper slowly climbs with slender tentacles,
The moisture of love that feed and flow with no obstacle,
Under the cold shine and hot rain, you and me,
Lessons felt, shared, absorbed and created,
The green grass under the ocean of salinity,
Where the green turtles feast frantically,
Velvety meadows to the distance eye can see,
Where the cattle and horses nibble the young leaves,
Colors of rainbows shaded on the grains, fruits and vegetables,
Where the machine and human toil to reap the sweat of our union,
You are the light and I am the universal solvent,
When the love between us is disturbed and destroyed,
What can they do with barren land and concrete jungles?
poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi
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Before The Fair
'Lost,' 'lost,' the beeves and the bullocks,
The cattle men sell and buy,
Crowded upon the fair green,
Low to the lightless sky.
'Live,' 'live,' and 'Here,' 'here,' the blackbird
From the top of the bare ash-tree,
Over the acres whistles
With beak of yellow blee.
And climbing, turning, and climbing
His little stair of sound,
'Content,' 'content,' from the low hedge
The redbreast sings in a round.
And I who hear that hedge-song
Will fare with all the rest,
With thoughts of lust and labour,
And bargain in my breast.
The bare hedge bright with rain-drops
That have not fallen down,
The golden-crowded whin-bush
Nor know these things my own!
poem by Padraic Colum
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The Filling of the Swamps
Hurrah for the storm-clouds sweeping!
Hurrah for the driving rain!
The dull earth out of her sleeping
Is wakened to life again.
There are mirrors of crystal shining
Whenever the cloud-wrack breaks,
And grass-clad banks are twining
A wreath for the fairy lakes - - -
Lakes that are links in an endless chain
For the water is out in the swamps again!
Hurrah for the red-gums standing
So high on the range above!
Hurrah for the she-oaks bending
So low to the wave they love!
Hurrah for the reed-stems slender!
Hurrah for the shade they fling,
For the curve of the cygnet's splendour,
The sheen of the black duck's wing!
Hurrah for the clouds and the glorious rain - - -
The water is out in the swamps again!
Hurrah for the laughing water,
The songs that the streamlets sing!
Whish! The teal duck's mate has sought her
With a stroke of his mottled wing!
Hurrah for the deepening shadows,
The ibis's eagle-eyed,
The dash of the purple swallows,
To bury their breasts in the tide!
Woe! It is woe to the Drought-King's reign!
The water is out in the swamps again!
poem by William Henry Ogilvie
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Baby Tortoise
You know what it is to be born alone,
Baby tortoise!
The first day to heave your feet little by little from the shell,
Not yet awake,
And remain lapsed on earth,
Not quite alive.
A tiny, fragile, half-animate bean.
To open your tiny beak-mouth, that looks as if it would never open,
Like some iron door;
To lift the upper hawk-beak from the lower base
And reach your skinny little neck
And take your first bite at some dim bit of herbage,
Alone, small insect,
Tiny bright-eye,
Slow one.
To take your first solitary bite
And move on your slow, solitary hunt.
Your bright, dark little eye,
Your eye of a dark disturbed night,
Under its slow lid, tiny baby tortoise,
So indomitable.
No one ever heard you complain.
You draw your head forward, slowly, from your little wimple
And set forward, slow-dragging, on your four-pinned toes, Rowing slowly forward.
Whither away, small bird?
Rather like a baby working its limbs,
Except that you make slow, ageless progress
And a baby makes none.
The touch of sun excites you,
And the long ages, and the lingering chill
Make you pause to yawn,
Opening your impervious mouth,
Suddenly beak-shaped, and very wide, like some suddenly gaping pincers;
Soft red tongue, and hard thin gums,
Then close the wedge of your little mountain front,
Your face, baby tortoise.
Do you wonder at the world, as slowly you turn your head in its wimple
And look with laconic, black eyes?
Or is sleep coming over you again,
The non-life?
You are so hard to wake.
Are you able to wonder?
Or is it just your indomitable will and pride of the first life
Looking round
And slowly pitching itself against the inertia
Which had seemed invincible?
The vast inanimate,
And the fine brilliance of your so tiny eye,
Challenger.
Nay, tiny shell-bird,
What a huge vast inanimate it is, that you must row against,
What an incalculable inertia.
Challenger,
Little Ulysses, fore-runner,
No bigger than my thumb-nail,
Buon viaggio.
All animate creation on your shoulder,
Set forth, little Titan, under your battle-shield.
The ponderous, preponderate,
Inanimate universe;
And you are slowly moving, pioneer, you alone.
How vivid your travelling seems now, in the troubled sunshine,
Stoic, Ulyssean atom;
Suddenly hasty, reckless, on high toes.
Voiceless little bird,
Resting your head half out of your wimple
In the slow dignity of your eternal pause.
Alone, with no sense of being alone,
And hence six times more solitary;
Fulfilled of the slow passion of pitching through immemorial ages
Your little round house in the midst of chaos.
Over the garden earth,
Small bird,
Over the edge of all things.
Traveller,
With your tail tucked a little on one side
Like a gentleman in a long-skirted coat.
All life carried on your shoulder,
Invincible fore-runner.
poem by David Herbert Lawrence
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The View At The Top
it is 3000 steps from the
ground. You begin climbing
on an early morning
when the grass are still
rich with dew
and then the sun
starts to shine and then
the birds start to gather
the sweet sap of the
fruit with their
tiny, and long, black beaks
along the way.
it is not strange to see
a variety of colored
butterflies hovering
from one flower to
another. They too
gather the nectar
from the wildflowers
along the way.
you climb slowly
each cemented stair
of this old shrine
you tackle each
station of the cross
of this catholic rite.
finally at noon you
reach the top and
see the whole of the
city below.
a river winds like a
snake.It is the same river
that you pass seven times
before reaching the
ground of this peak.
you see the sea beyond
like a basin with still water.
you see boats like
floating petals of a
white flower, and those
biggers ones appear
to you like leaves
that had fallen to the ground.
you see clouds and clear skies
and you feel that up here
you are both king and god.
do not look down on this cliff
the feeling that everyone pulls down
your feet is still there.
you have felt it before in the office
where you are working and you
want to quit.
just like the butterfly that gathers
the nectars or the birds that gather
the sap of the ripe fruits
you come here to gather
your spirit. You want to be strong.
You want to be whole again.
You like to move on.
There is so much silence at the top.
There is no noise except the comforting silence of the wind.
There is so much to gather here.
Memories. Thoughts. Solitude. Peace.
Harmony. The unity of the universe in the
palm of your hand.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Beauty of Spring
it starts with the grass
slowly, blade by blade
growing, sprouting, covering
while more beauty is made
the green of the grass
then the green of the trees
slowly, but early showing
the small but budding leaves
the early flowers
pouring color and beauty
a still bland land
but now with color to see
the birds coming back
with their squawks and their tweets
the bround growing warm
beneathe my bare feet
the bunnies and the squirrels
the turtles and the snakes
the fish swimming free
in the thawing lakes
the beauty of Spring
with new life all around!
the coming of pure beauty
with the thawing ground
poem by Kellsey Hartmann
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