A Poet's Voice - Hello Poetry

Oct 2016

betterdays

hayfever

ignite the flames of memory
amazing in their strength
and synchronicity

cavorting with fibonacci numbers,
expanding exponentially

dust motes spinning crazily
life
exploding,
destabilizing,
imploding
without a
whimper
or a
warcry

these are the high days of spring
verdent and fecund
glances fervid and askance
lead to ***
under the still warming sun

Oct 2016

wordvango

an ounce of pain

of picking cotton almost
or fruit from trees
you ***** a finger
bruise a knee
the children now
so brought up
without need
think a lack
of wireless is the end of the world
but
I see young men
strong going to war for our country
like my generation
and those before me did
so I hold out hope
that not all this new
generation is blind
and all about greed
some
are
truly like my and mine before
see
beyond this horizon

Oct 2016

Fay Slimm

Poets Like Me.

Poets Like Me..

Suspended at portals of rigid
and well-defined
thought reclines most whimsy,
which poets like me
welcome and use to un-stick
rusted up vision.
Freeing the mind we care not
where reality ends.
Wonder notices even the tiny
and gasps at gross,
the newly dry gossamer wing
seen as fillagreed
diamonds with eyesight, night
versed with ghostly
metaphor, the tides as emotion.
Humanized nature
allures the inventive in scribes
bent on perception
where real meets make-believe.
Awe, understood
as a lever appeals to romantics
like me addicted
to all ethereal's seducing fancy.
Idealized love
presents realms of impassioned
expression, themes,
versing spirit personified holds
complusion, creative
vision awakens to other worlds
where, finally winning
utopia becomes no mere illusion.
What feels real merges
and mixes with linguistic flights
of beguiling imagery.
Life through the eyes of all poets
like me changes
at will from the galling mundane
to that which excites
inspiration for evocative writing.

Oct 2016

Nishu Mathur

Poetree, if trees be poems by the earth

If trees be poems by the earth
In avid joy I read each one
Florets writ in fragrant verse
Inked with beams of the morning sun
In shade, a fruit, a whiff of air
I rest beneath wide branches spread
A cavort of emerald canopy
Bestows comfort upon my breath
I lean against the bark, recline
And think of how it stands in time

Through tunneled years it's stoic trunk
Stands proud against frost and rain
Drops it's leaves to nakedness
Till spring dresses in green again
On but an arm, the  koel sings
'Tis home to birds that weave a nest
Haven to sojourners ache
Clasp around, hold close to breast
I trace the names of love engraved
Now forgot; asleep in graves

On felled bark my soul I pen
On papyrus the past I feel
The murmured songs of sentiments
In susurrus as branches kneel.
Nymphs would hide or fairies entreat
With fireflies in silver light
Creatures tip toe on their feet
Lithe, in the darkness of the night
In engraved lines meaning I see
What better song, what poetree?

Trees are poems that the earth writes upon the sky -  Gibran

#life #nature #trees