Reveries of an Imaginary Landscape No.12 - Morning with Water
White mist
hiding the brownish patches of trees
looking upward the canopy scrumptious, vivacious
The air
cold at first
fresh, invigorating
Cool red earth
pitted and smooth, damp and vibrant
silky red flowers and burgeoning patches of green and blue
The sun
blasting, rippling through the canopy
bright dancing shadows on the red, red earth
Running water
clear, warm, from a steamy spring
shiny droplets dripping
poem by Timothy Marshal Nichols
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Patches Of
patches of sunlight,
patches of clouds.
patches of Jesus,
patches of doubt.
patches of joy,
patches of pain.
patches of hope,
patches of strain.
patches of tomorrow,
patches of today.
patches of forever,
patches of 'cant stay'!
patches of loving,
patches of cold.
patches of youth,
patches of old.
patches of bravery.
patches of fear.
patches of happiness,
patches of tears.
patches of life,
patches of death.
patches of trying
with your last breath!
poem by Eric Cockrell
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Habitat-Visions of a fragile planet
Babbling brook bubbles over broken pebbles
Rippling round smooth stones
Wonderful waterfall winding through
Meandering lazily, not in a hurry
Scorched sand beneath burning sun
Heat waves rippling upwards
Reaching towards the dry dead heat
Rushing to drown all in drought
Green grass in fresh pasture
Waving in soft cool breeze
Cattle slowly munching through
Yellow flowers and small green clovers
White streaks of wonder
Taint the clear blue sky
Whips of cloud, invisible mist
Pictures formed, incomprehensible
Black carpet splattered with invasive dots
Sparkle consistently no matter what
These far away stars glisten and shine
Remember how small we are, humbling.
Huge expanse of aqua blue space
Millions of colours mingle into obscurity
Flashes of red, blue, green yellow
Decorate the huge blue mass
Wet, humid sticky, green
Insects buzzing, damp over whelming
the pure heat enough to dizzy oneself
Rainforest drums with snakes like vines.
poem by Fae LundConlon
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Countryside
Patches of dark grey clouds
and streaks of white clouds
on the greenish brown hills
blocking the daylight;
The water-filled paddy fields
the swaying of the coconut tree leaves
the raindrops on mustard flowers;
some black and white coloured
cows tied under a tree
and a herd of mooing cows heading home;
The smiles of children playing in
rain puddles, various coloured
umbrellas scattered from
here to there, people rushing
to their homes, a small
temple sheltering all;
The cool breeze, the droplets of
water on every face,
the smell of damp brown-earth
made the time stand still.
I paused and resumed
my journey of life.
Copyright©2011Rizvana Parveen
poem by Rizvana Parveen
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Battle Of Fog Wind And Sun
It’s a mysterious morning in the wood as the fogs settled in
Fog dances with the wind through the trees twirling
A hazy white blanket diffusing scattering the light
Everything looks so different tricking your sight
The sun rays pours down breaking through the trees canopy
Linear streaks of light highlighting objects we see
Mysterious fog plays with the light as things it conceals
So when you are only near objects magically reappear
Strange shaped shadows jump out from the teasing mist
And twigs and objects appear that at first you did miss
The gloomy cold fog tries hard to hide the light of the new day
But the darkness and mystery it brings is not there to stay
The wind helps the sun to blow the mist from our sight
And wind sun versus the fog start their regular teasing fight
As normal the fog slowly loses, thins to a light haze in the air
Going patchy with little dancing wisps here and there
The light and the wind always it wins afterall
But the fog would just quickly disappear from us all
But look closely he left a present from his newly departed mist
On foliage are water jewel droplets where it gently kissed
Facing The Frost
People, around me, are confidently striding,
While I worry about slipping and sliding.
Where it is clear, my confidence grows,
But where it is icy, my pace, again, slows.
People are walking, looking fairly relaxed;
While I walk, head down, watching my tracks.
I approach an icy patch, and pull a funny face,
As, once again, I find I have to slow my pace.
I see some children on their way to school;
With walking on ice, they seem pretty cool.
From the looks on their faces, it is very clear,
That, unlike me, they do not hold any fear.
Where I am able, I walk along on the grass,
So that icy patches, on the pavement, I pass.
At times, I have no choice, but to face the ice;
With the threat of potential injury, I now dice.
My face is a picture of concern and worry;
With the ice around, I feel unable to hurry.
My journey to work seems to take forever.
Needless to say, I’m not a fan of this weather.
It is a cold and sunny morn, but by midday,
Some patches of ice have begun to melt away.
The top temperature today is only four degrees;
It’s been forecast that tonight it will, again, freeze.
Upon the frozen ground, where shadows fall,
The frost appears not to have melted at all.
The shady side of the street is still ice white,
While the sunny side, is now clear and bright.
Come afternoon, some patches of ice are still there;
Shrouded in shadow; untouched by the sun’s glare
The day grows older and night time draws near;
The time when Jack Frost, once again, will appear.
poem by Angela Wybrow
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Mother...look At Your Nature:
Wrapped in green grass
And other green things,
Beautifully laced in pink
And white blooms,
A canopy of blossoms
For thousand of strollers,
Flowered heads fresh out
Of priestly cradle,
Perennial rite in spring,
Eastertime turns Mother Earth
Into glorious paradise,
Pink and white snowflake
On jackets and hats,
But all delay leaving
to stroll hand-in-hand,
Promenading
On
Floral carpeting,
Besieged
by
Brooklyn Botanic Garden’s
ritual of spring.
Almedia Knight-Oliver
poem by Almedia Knight Oliver
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Land Rape Earth Rape
Who cares what colour your skin
when you land rape earth rape
cut down pristine life giving forest
in the name of corporate profit
leaving but dust legacy mudslides.
Weep child the mighty totara is cut down fallen
no longer forests thick stretching 120 feet high
above dense canopy bird song broadleaf trees
linear sharp pointed leaves dark green-brownish
female totara flowers red swollen nut embedded.
Weep forests are ripped apart globally
who will purchase trees preserve forest
purchase inheritance diverse ecosystems
leave tress growing for children to explore
for friends descendants future generations?
Golden Totara your bark pattern is earth skin.
poem by Terence George Craddock
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Cool Water
Words and music by bob nolan
Revised lyrics by joni mitchell
All day I face the barren waste
Without a taste of water
Cool water
Old dan and i
Our throats slate dry
Our spirits cry out for water
Cool clear water
Keep on movin dan
Some devils had a plan
Buried poison in the sand
Dont drink it man
Its in the water
Cool clear water
In my mind I see
A big green tree
And a river flowin free
Waitin up ahead
For you and me
Cool clear water
The nights are cool and Im a fool
Each star is a pool of water
Cool water
But come the dawn
We carry on
We wont last long without water
Cool clear water
Keep on movin dan
Were still in no-mans land
Dry bones and sand
People never planned here for water
Cool clear water
In my mind I see
A big green tree
And a river flowin free
Waiting up ahead for you and me
Cool clear water
The shadows sway
They seem to say
Tonight we pray for water
Cool water
And way up there
If you care
Please show us where
Theres good water
Cool clear water
song performed by by Joni Mitchell
Submitted by Lucian Velea
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It Is Such A Beautiful Evening
Than Spring it is far more like Summer a summery warmth in the breeze
And sunshine on the old Town and Parkland and sunshine on the bushes and trees
The greeness of Spring all around me such beauty that cannot fail to please
The weather quite warm for September well over the twenty degrees.
Though early Spring few birds are singing in the warm sun of the day
They sing in the cool of the morning or in the twilight's fading gray
The Winter is finally over though Winter weather was far from severe
We may be due for an el nino a warm Spring is looming this year.
The heaths and prickly bushes are covered in their blue, pink and bright yellow flowers
They came to bloom in the late Winter in the cool and invigorating showers
The pardalotes by their nest entrance in a tiny hole in the ground
Wee wren sized birds spotted and pretty where they live small insects abound.
It is such a beautiful evening the swallows they chirp as they fly
And the sun with the warmth of Summer is glowing brightly in the blue sky
And the first brown butterflies of September are flitting in the balmy air
Alone and contented with Nature such moments are precious and rare.
poem by Francis Duggan
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A Love Spring
So Spring warm weather upon with you watch
bloom flowers: Tulip, Orchid, Cherry ect..
That awake Springtime beautiful blue sky
With me, feeling of peace with Spring
Pollen of the flowers trees everywhere
To let you know the Spring coming
Green grass with flowers fill us with joy
Outdoor full of activities
Spring gently warm our souls
To the Spring 's love within you and me forever.
poem by Natasa Tocuc
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Ode To The Green Grass Of Summer
green green grass
spreading slowly on the path
of my feet
treaded upon
such green beauty
covering once
this dust, this mud,
this plain expanse
of ugliness
i sing the song
of green green grasess
spreading thinly on
the pavement
grasshoppers
and ants and some worms
yes, the green green grasses
are still their home
patches of earth
from far
you may see
this stitches
of moss
a landscape
of this earth
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Hammock Upon The Winds
there lies sadness like patches of green moss
sticking upon a rock half covered by the clear water of the river
one may think that sadness will always be there as patches of
what we have always wanted to get rid off like peeling them off gently from
an old sharp and rugged edged rock
sometimes you become so tired planning and doing and then surrendering into the helplessness of a fallen leaf that floats and is carried slowly by the current of the river early morning on a Sunday
when people are not around spending holidays on places that they miss for the whole week
and so one lays its tired body on the side of the river's bank
wades his hands and feels the coolness of the water and then starts to flow and release what he thinks must be given away
one feels the restfulness of finally giving up
of not minding about what cares must be done in order to make
life smoother
flowing and easier like the way the brown leaf floats
like the way the blue clouds drift
like the way we let the moss grow
upon the side of the rock
having more wet times with the clear water of the river
having a clearer view of the orange fish within and the shiny pebbles
beneath them
words lull me like i were carried by the hammock upon the arms of the unseen winds....
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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A Dream Of Water Moon!
Cool bright Moon shines bright in the Starry night Sky!
Dreams of Moon absorb poets, scientists, lovers, all!
Even in Honey Moon dream of water Moon never dries!
Polluting water on Earth man searches water in Moon!
Physical feature is contrasting between Earth and Moon!
Green vegetation, blue water and white ice make Earth
Unique with atmosphere all round protecting it forever!
Sands, rocks with ice at tips Moon is sans atmosphere!
Rotating itself Earth revolves round the Sun night or day;
But Moon’s bright side and dark side are fixed forever!
The mystery of dark side Moon is in suspense since long;
The frozen sides of Moon are – 238 degrees is still chilling!
Water Moon has indeed become a great interest for all and
Many nations are vying with one another to see water there!
poem by Ramesh T A
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Canopy
We all live under a canopy
of hope, hate, love and lies.
The canopy gets bigger
every day within our lives.
We walk through the world
each day brings new things
that come under our canopy.
5 February 2008
poem by David Harris
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And we will call it Britain
Crisp green the stems of daffodils
That brave in spring cold sun
Soft tender green the hawthorn buds
Unfurled with winter done
Bright green the fresh leaves on the limes
That verdant branches lace
Dark green the lily’s slender shoot
That moist earth, piercing breaks
But greenest of all that is green
An island Earth did make
And we will call it Britain
Natures green estate
poem by Egal Bohen
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Malaysiana - At the Kapit Jungle Produce Market
the chopped up boa
chunk and chunk
of floral leather
geometric design
of a forest digested
smooth and thinly oiled
each log is a thick
pinkish cold proof of life
the forest was a haven
for the boa that had slithered
its length and breath,
to come out a tough
and marvellous piece
of its habitat
the samba deer stares down
at its own cut out body parts
bleary eyed, otherwise as good as alive
its flesh is a bastion of robust health
tissues that like the boa's
had digested the forest
to reveal its magic forces
its oily shiny brown hair
with traces of yellow
is also a thick jungle of vigour
the animal though
is now chunk after chunk
of heartchilling flesh
soon to greet pots and pans of buyers
i coldly marvel at the ability
of the forest to give rise to
such an admirable velvety ecology
which sadly will be lost at the hands
of its reckless neighbours
people who despite warnings
from the heavens, continue to
snarl earth of its green
leaving patches and patches
of concrete jungles, polluted air and
a near ecological disaster
poem by John Tiong Chunghoo
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Sentinels In Green
Leaves a dancing.
Sentinels in green.
They cascade down the hill
An emerald waterfall.
Oak, ash, beech,
A joyous blending,
A whispering chorus.
Flirting in the wind,
This gossiping canopy.
Glorying in the sun.
Set deep in black earth
They know no boundaries.
Do not fight for their scraps of earth.
A perfect synthesis, harmonius,
Joyous to behold.
poem by Paul Brookes
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Visualize and Wonder
Night-blue, starlit river
like a ribbon across the rugged land,
reflecting a transition of the heavens
traveling from night into morning
rushing into a churning, tumbling lake
just below the mighty waterfall
icy black water in a tiny loch,
rippling like deep emerald history
ancient and wise, impenetrable mystery
smelling musty, like fresh earth,
or old books in a dusty library
the heartache glows like hot iron.
doused in this unexpected chilly water
taking away the anxiety and uplifting
thoughts come clear and clarifying,
like breathing jackfrost puffs of winter
dark walls rising up on three sides,
cradling morning in a ragged half circle
of smoothe, mossy and black mountain rock.
I love the embrace of this old rock tarn
Where the dusky green hills flow aside,
and a single worn path skirts the pool
carved, perched in a long, curved niche
above the cold, ice-fed water on one side
And stops here, just aside the curtain
that carries light in crystal swirls
from the far path on the other side
dark lines and mist converging in dew drops
Inside illusions building up like movies
Is this a time, or a place?
Or a dream of simple pleasures?
the heartache glows like warm sunlight.
Is this reality? Broken reality?
Illusions tumble apart, leaving void
Patient, comfortable void, filling me
from below the navel and up, breathing out
Close my eyes. I am smiling,
forgetting to breathe, to see,
just swinging like a slow pendulum
swinging, breathing in and out
with the open sky behind me,
and this tarn of closing dark magic,
not evil, only dark and cloudy,
like black mist obscuring an autumn night
where low above the skeletal trees
is a faint, full circle of greenish light,
that is the light on the other side,
but deeper than the night sky,
colder and further down, under the earth
exploring wide, dark caverns,
leading deeper down still,
into a black hole filled with rushing water
watching the edge of the walls rush past
and I am falling, into a wide dark void
filled with stars, and a golden light
spilling down from where the water flows in,
the droplets fling themselves into the cosmos
becoming more stars in the dark emptiness.
In the back of my head is a glowing
fading into the dull roar of massive water
Beyond the curtain of crystal clear
the light is still glowing,
the cavern, still calling.
I yearn for it, looking back as if...
hoping that I have the strength to turn back
to step through, into that world.
The morning above and behind me now,
Steep, green slope before me,
I cross out of the shadows of the tarn,
into the shafts of morning's honey
walking paths of thin brown dirt,
crossing up and down the deep green hills
into the giant woods atop the mountain
where the knowledge of flora is found
The curling mists around the tree roots
shifting and crawling deeper into the shadows
lifting simple, joyful song birds
into the morning sun and clouds.
Here between the dark forest floor,
and the vaulting forest canopy,
I am framed for a moment, looking back
at the dark V of the tarn
and the winding slip of the river,
leading away into the rocky mountains
a terrain pale and fading quickly
against the morning sun breaking free.
The dawn is so wonderful, awakening.
Light pink cuddles in the wisps of far off cumulus.
Whirling into the fall of rosy twilight tears.
Within the trees, I follow the mists
retreating into the forest depths.
Muzzy and gray, this day has yet to wake.
poem by Poet Dragon
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Viewing The World After A Calamity
when you step out the door
the rain stops
you walk avoiding the patches
of water
the trees are still in their
solitude
the wings are cautious
even in the making of its whispers
the skies are clear, white
stainless
the sun shines moderately
upon the cold pavement
you climb a mountain and sits
on a rock
from the top you see
how beautiful is this world still
after a storm after a 6.9 quake
if it ends as they predict
surely you will always miss it.
poem by Ric S. Bastasa
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Cold, clear, and blue the morning heaven
Cold, clear, and blue the morning heaven
Expands its arch on high;
Cold, clear, and blue Lake Werna's water
Reflects that winter sky:
The moon has set, but Venus shines,
A silent, silvery star.
Will the day be bright or cloudy?
Sweetly has its dawn begun;
But the heaveb may shake with thunder
Ere the settling sun.
Lady, watch Apollo's journey;
Thus thy first hour's course shall be;
If his beams through summer vapours
Warm the earth all placidly,
Her days shall pass like a pleasant dream in sweet tranquility.
If it darken, if a shadow
Quench his rays and summon rain,
Flowers may open, buds may blossom,
Bud and flower alike are vain;
Her days shall pass like a mournful story in care and tears and pain.
If the wind be fresh and free,
The wide skies clear and cloudless blue,
The woods and fields and golden flowers
Sparkling in sunshine and in dew,
Her days shall pass in Glory's light the world's drear desert through.
poem by Emily Brontë from The Complete Poems of Emily Brontë (1908)
Submitted by Veronica Serbanoiu
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