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 Feb 2014
PrttyBrd
1

Overcast, sunless
Visibly silent screaming
Parched, now overjoyed

2

Wheat and weather watched
Drought gives way to summer storms
Lightning strikes with fire

3

Darkness falls so late
Chicken coop falls silent now
***** crow before dawn

4

Chasing butterflies
Buzzing bees on flowers still
Spiderwebs glisten

5

Birds bathe in sunshine
Chasing, dancing, singing free
Harmonious life

6

Breezes blow warm air
Waves of grasses hypnotize
Clouds float passed the sun

7

The water ripples
Slow concentric rings wave on
A rock and a splash

8

Attack, run away
Attack, attack, run away
Courtship rituals

9

Fowl scattered in fields
Hunting, pecking, roaming free
Chasing bugs and seeds

10

Corners filled with webs
Intricate art of nature
Respect without fear

11

Water beads on grass
Thirst quenched every morn
Silence before dawn

12

Seven eggs in nest
Encircled in royal blue
Three weeks to new life

13

Small spaces invite
The great escape attempted
Free birds in tall grass

14

Running through the fields
Frolicking in the sunlight
Sunset calls them home

15

Butterfly standing
Flapping wings in slow motion
Gently ate its fill

16

Short weeds in high grass
Flowers, bees, grasshoppers, ants
Seasonal creatures

17

Scorched earth, lightning strikes
Life lush green burning to ash
Renewal takes time

18

Five are missing, gone
The culprit is yet unknown
Life cycles throughout

19

Clawed dirt freshly turned
Evidence of a sly fox
Clever, impressive

20

Lightning strikes, sparks fly
Fire consumes through the darkness
A fresh start tomorrow

21

Winds of change blow in
Lightning storms of discontent
Perception adjusts

22

Stinging insects buzz
Flowers thrive in the meadow
View from a distance

23

The surface unmarred
Faint hint of things soon to come
Small crack, rotten egg

24

Distance still remains
Oceans and miles stretch onward
The phone is my friend

25

Leap and take a chance
Is easier said than done
knowledge kills hope

26

Change is forged in need
Optimistic tendencies
For better or worse

27

Clicking black keyboard
Ethereal glowing screen
Midnight love awaits

28

Separately we live
Together under one roof
Bound by a shared past

29

Swarms buzz all around
Armies crawl across the ground
Mammals hide in shade

30

Flying mosquitos
Settling in on warm flesh
Drinking in sweetness

31

Warm balmy breezes
Steam rising from burning streets
Lungs choke on wet air
copyright©PrttyBrd 07/2010
 Nov 2011
Marshal Gebbie
Serenely independent  of ineptitude in life
Unclamoured by resentment’s inconvenience and strife,
When borne upon a wave of incredible blue sea
To leave a beaming smile on this old, wrinkled face of me.

Gleefully convulsing at a funny story told
When the teller roared with laughter and crossed her legs to hold,
And the day began with sunshine and a twinkle in the eye
And progressed to such hilarity, to make a grown man cry.

And once you’ve got the giggles, they’re impossible to lose
Despite the glass of water or the remedy you choose.
The tickle of the moment will make you catch your breath
And you’ll erupt in gales of laughter and quite *** yourself bereft!

Oh the joy to have a  wet spot on a sunny afternoon
When the pheromones are coursing and the day is for the loons
When the aching in your belly joins the weakness in the knees
And reminds you of the magic found in laughter, if you please.

Marshalg
Tickled pink in the sunshine
23 November 2011
 Oct 2011
The They
On the path made holy by our steps
No rationality could possess
the openness of those flowing fields
rolling like placid ocean waves.

Those endless rows of corn
Found us in the setting sun
Whose first red reached our eyes
In the rapture of our peaceful walk

I still cannot remember a time
Our steps strode more perfectly side by side
Guided, like the waving corn guides the wind,
By the moment whose unveiling we share

My mind meets you here and now
As the realization sinks in:
You bring me here to witness
The reality that I am not alone
From my blog http://the-they.blogspot.com/
 Nov 2010
Anna Dunn
Why all the Jelousy
Why The Rage
You Cry About losing to a great friend
You ignore me for now two months on end
Why all the Jelousy why all the rage
why all the gossip and rumors
they make you
HATE ME
What did i do?
I dont think i did much
Just tell me and ill fix it
Why all the jelousy, why all the rage
why do tears soak up this page
Because you are my best friend
Leaving me in the dust
HER rumors devour you
But how can you believe
SHE has been causing drama for to long
I have to stop all this Jelousy and Hate
Before it gets too late......
 Oct 2010
Leonie Adams
Now the rich cherry, whose sleek wood,
And top with silver petals traced
Like a strict box its gems encased,
Has spilt from out that cunning lid,
All in an innocent green round,
Those melting rubies which it hid;
With moss ripe-strawberry-encrusted,
So birds get half, and minds lapse merry
To taste that deep-red, lark’s-bite berry,
And blackcap bloom is yellow-dusted.


The wren that thieved it in the eaves
A trailer of the rose could catch
To her poor droopy sloven thatch,
And side by side with the wren’s brood—
O lovely time of beggar’s luck—
Opens the quaint and hairy bud;
And full and golden is the yield
Of cows that never have to house,
But all night nibble under boughs,
Or cool their sides in the moist field.


Into the rooms flow meadow airs,
The warm farm baking smell’s blown round.
Inside and out, and sky and ground
Are much the same; the wishing star,
Hesperus, kind and early born,
Is risen only finger-far;
All stars stand close in summer air,
And tremble, and look mild as amber;
When wicks are lighted in the chamber,
They are like stars which settled there.


Now straightening from the flowery hay,
Down the still light the mowers look,
Or turn, because their dreaming shook,
And they waked half to other days,
When left alone in the yellow stubble
The rusty-coated mare would graze.
Yet thick the lazy dreams are born,
Another thought can come to mind,
But like the shivering of the wind,
Morning and evening in the corn.
 Oct 2010
Leonie Adams
(From a Persian Carpet)


Ash and strewments, the first moth-wings, pale
Ardour of brief evenings, on the fecund wind;
Or all a wing, less than wind,
Breath of low herbs upfloats, petal or wing,
Haunting the musk precincts of burial.
For the season of newer riches moves triumphing,
Of the evanescence of deaths. These potpourris
Earth-tinctured, jet insect-bead, cinder of bloom—
How weigh while a great summer knows increase,
Ceaselessly risen, what there entombs?—
Of candour fallen from the slight stems of Mays,
Corrupt of the rim a blue shades, pensively:
So a fatigue of wishes will young eyes.
And brightened, unpurged eyes of revery, now
Not to glance to fabulous groves again!
For now deep presence is, and binds its close,
And closes down the wreathed alleys escape of sighs.
And now rich time is weaving, hidden tree,
The fable of orient threads from bough to bough.
Old rinded wood, whose lissomeness within
Has reached from nothing to its covering
These many corymbs’ flourish!—And the green
Shells which wait amber, breathing, wrought
Towards the still trance of summer’s centering,
Motives by ravished humble fingers set,
Each in a noon of its own infinite.
And here is leant the branch and its repose
of the deep leaf to the pilgrim plume. Repose,
Inflections brilliant and mute of the voyager, light!
And here the nests, and freshet throats resume
Notes over and over found, names
For the silvery ascensions of joy. Nothing is here
But moss and its bells now of the root’s night;
But the beetle’s bower, and arc from grass to grass
For the flight in gauze. Now its fresh lair,
Grass-deep, nestles the cool eft to stir
Vague newborn limbs, and the bud’s dark winding has
Access of day. Now on the subtle noon
Time’s image, at pause with being, labours free
Of all its charge, for each in coverts laid,
Of clement kind; and everlastingly,
In some elision of bright moments is known,
Changed wide as Eden, the branch whose silence sways
Dazzle of the murmurous leaves to continual tone;
Its separations, sighing to own again
Being of the ignorant wish; and sways to sight,
Waked from it nighted, the marvelous foundlings of light;
Risen and weaving from the ceaseless root
A divine ease whispers toward fruitfulness,
While all a summer’s conscience tempts the fruit.
 Oct 2010
Nizar Qabbani
In the summer
I stretch out on the shore
And think of you
Had I told the sea
What I felt for you,
It would have left its shores,
Its shells,
Its fish,
And followed me
TIS past ! The sultry tyrant of the south
Has spent his short-liv'd rage ; more grateful hours
Move silent on; the skies no more repel
The dazzled sight, but with mild maiden beams
Of temper'd light, invite the cherish'd eye
To wander o'er their sphere ; where hung aloft
DIAN's bright crescent, like a silver bow
New strung in heaven, lifts high its beamy horns

Impatient for the night, and seems to push
Her brother down the sky. Fair VENUS shines
Even in the eye of day ; with sweetest beam
Propitious shines, and shakes a trembling flood
Of soften'd radiance from her dewy locks.
The shadows spread apace ; while meeken'd Eve
Her cheek yet warm with blushes, slow retires
Thro' the Hesperian gardens of the west,
And shuts the gates of day. 'Tis now the hour
When Contemplation, from her sunless haunts,
The cool damp grotto, or the lonely depth
Of unpierc'd woods, where wrapt in solid shade
She mused away the gaudy hours of noon,
And fed on thoughts unripen'd by the sun,
Moves forward ; and with radiant finger points
To yon blue concave swell'd by breath divine,
Where, one by one, the living eyes of heaven
Awake, quick kindling o'er the face of ether

One boundless blaze ; ten thousand trembling fires,
And dancing lustres, where th' unsteady eye
Restless, and dazzled wanders unconfin'd
O'er all this field of glories : spacious field !
And worthy of the master : he, whose hand
With hieroglyphics older than the Nile,
Inscrib'd the mystic tablet; hung on high
To public gaze, and said, adore, O man !
The finger of thy GOD. From what pure wells
Of milky light, what soft o'erflowing urn,
Are all these lamps so fill'd ? these friendly lamps,
For ever streaming o'er the azure deep
To point our path, and light us to our home.
How soft they slide along their lucid spheres !
And silent as the foot of time, fulfil
Their destin'd courses : Nature's self is hush'd,
And, but a scatter'd leaf, which rustles thro'
The thick-wove foliage, not a sound is heard

To break the midnight air ; tho' the rais'd ear,
Intensely listening, drinks in every breath.
How deep the silence, yet how loud the praise !
But are they silent all ? or is there not
A tongue in every star that talks with man,
And wooes him to be wise ; nor wooes in vain :
This dead of midnight is the noon of thought,
And wisdom mounts her zenith with the stars.
At this still hour the self-collected soul
Turns inward, and beholds a stranger there
Of high descent, and more than mortal rank ;
An embryo GOD ; a spark of fire divine,
Which must burn on for ages, when the sun,
(Fair transitory creature of a day !)
Has clos'd his golden eye, and wrapt in shades
Forgets his wonted journey thro' the east.

Ye citadels of light, and seats of GODS !
Perhaps my future home, from whence the soul

Revolving periods past, may oft look back
With recollected tenderness, on all
The various busy scenes she left below,
Its deep laid projects and its strange events,
As on some fond and doating tale that sooth'd
Her infant hours ; O be it lawful now
To tread the hallow'd circles of your courts,
And with mute wonder and delighted awe
Approach your burning confines. Seiz'd in thought
On fancy's wild and roving wing I sail,
From the green borders of the peopled earth,
And the pale moon, her duteous fair attendant;
From solitary Mars ; from the vast orb
Of Jupiter, whose huge gigantic bulk
Dances in ether like the lightest leaf;
To the dim verge, the suburbs of the system,
Where chearless Saturn 'midst her watry moons
Girt with a lucid zone, majestic sits

In gloomy grandeur ; like an exil'd queen
Amongst her weeping handmaids: fearless thence
I launch into the trackless deeps of space,
Where, burning round, ten thousand suns appear,
Of elder beam ; which ask no leave to shine
Of our terrestrial star, nor borrow light
From the proud regent of our scanty day ;
Sons of the morning, first born of creation,
And only less than him who marks their track,
And guides their fiery wheels. Here must I stop,
Or is there aught beyond ? What hand unseen
Impels me onward thro' the glowing orbs
Of inhabitable nature ; far remote,
To the dread confines of eternal night,
To solitudes of vast unpeopled space,
The desarts of creation, wide and wild ;
Where embryo systems and unkindled suns
Sleep in the womb of chaos; fancy droops,

And thought astonish'd stops her bold career.
But oh thou mighty mind ! whose powerful word
Said, thus let all things be, and thus they were,
Where shall I seek thy presence ? how unblam'd
Invoke thy dread perfection ?
Have the broad eye-lids of the morn beheld thee ?
Or does the beamy shoulder of Orion
Support thy throne ? O look with pity down
On erring guilty man ; not in thy names
Of terrour clad ; not with those thunders arm'd
That conscious Sinai felt, when fear appall'd
The scatter'd tribes; thou hast a gentler voice,
That whispers comfort to the swelling heart,
Abash'd, yet longing to behold her Maker.

But now my soul unus'd tostretch her powers
In flight so daring, drops her weary wing,
And seeks again the known accustom'd spot,

Drest up with sun, and shade, and lawns, and streams,
A mansion fair and spacious for its guest,
And full replete with wonders. Let me here
Content and grateful, wait th' appointed time
And ripen for the skies: the hour will come
When all these splendours bursting on my sight
Shall stand unveil'd, and to my ravished sense
Unlock the glories of the world unknown.
 Sep 2010
Melanie Welch
rain in the summer
is always the best
because
the wet doesn't make you
cold.
instead,
the humidity is like
a blanket engulfing you,
hugging you close
all warm and safe
just like
your lover does
while he kisses the top
of your head
*plip plip plip plip
 Sep 2010
HEK
The air of summer is

cotton cooling in the house

sweet grasses

and

a friend napping in the sun

while yellow bee crawls unnoticed

across pillowed arms
Copyright Hannah Kollef 2010
 Sep 2010
Shelly Dee
Let's walk along the seaside roads
what goes on
in a summer's day
down the shore


Bathing suited kids & moms
move towards sandcastled shore
anxious to see the ocean
to smell the salt air

Breezes, warm
but refreshing on
sunkissed faces
worshipping for a look
to call relaxed and carefree

Tides crashing on
skim boards, buckets carried
to the sandy holes dug
by hard working dads
on their day off at the beach

Sun sets smoothly
as lovers hold hands
while their footprints
are erased with each new tide

Kites flying
in the pink sky
while seagulls
perch on tipped
lifeguard stands

A day down the shore
marks a memory
of  another summer
gone by
 Aug 2010
D Conors
When the first sweet scent of summertime,
sifted through the sea-salt scented air,
so many things and everything
were bright, light and happy-go-fair,
the Summer Life with you was finally here.

As soon as our bare feet hit the wood bridge,
running from the road up over the dunes,
great grey seagulls squawked, dove and swoon,
we held hands together, one and one
made two,
dash-dancing across the shiny sand with you,
dressed and undressed in our Summer Life moods.

Colours like pinwheels spun like yarn,
flashed and clashed bright orange to blue,
you danced and giggled like a loon,
pulled me up and so close, so close
to you,
that I had to dance, I had to dance like a loon,
I just had to laugh and dance and laugh along with you.

How we played, we frolicked beneath the beachy sun,
belly-surfed upon the waves just for funny fun,
flicked flecks of sand from our sticky picnic lunch,
shared swigs from a big blue thermos jug
of fruity-fruit yummy punch,
sharing and caring beneath the Summer Life's sun.

By evening-tide the air grew cool,
you called me 'lover,' I called you 'fool'
-with a big ol' blanket draped over our shoulders,
we kissed and cuddled, growing much bolder,
falling flat back
upon the mighty mattress of sand,
feeling the mists of the waves licking our hands,
as the Man-In-The-Moon arose and shone,
to dance and laugh with us on the Summer Life's throne.
D. Conors
Early August, 2010
Written over a 4 day period from a hospital bed.
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