#Forest Leaves - Hello Poetry

Sep 2016

Mary Pear

September ( a Collaboration with David Hewitt)

September morning and the blush pink of a child's eyelid
layers
With soft Wedgewood blue
And a silvery white.
Feathery treetops shiver in the light breeze
And there is a delicious chill in the air.
Contrails break apart in slow motion
Resting on the daybreak's skyline.

A blackbird hops across the dewy grass
To take his morning slice of stale bread.
Rose petals crimped and heavy wait
Patiently to be dried in the pastel sun.

There is no sadness as the summer slips by;
Just memories of freshly mown grass
On parish fields, of light, of warmth,
Of sea and country walks
Sweetening, like apples
In a sand box.

Sep 2016

Sjr1000

Generations

(Went out today,
Charter boat
Trinidad Bay
Limited out on rock fish
in two hours
Watching Elks Head
from the ocean,
Grandpa)

Isadore
Called him Izzy
Chewing all day
on a fat cigar
Looked at lot like Jimmy Durante

His father stowed away on a ship
Wasn't going to be a Russian military conscript
Genocidal pogroms were coming
how he knew
we'll never know.

Ended up in Philadelphia town,
Scranton Pennsylvania

Moved along to Brooklyn
Stubby Izzy
fighting it out with the Irish immigrants
Dreaming of having a chicken farm
over there in New Jersey

Izzy met Grandma Sarah at the family clothing store
they fought it out for 70 years
The 60's book
Games People Play
They were the star attraction
The friction was the glue
that kept them together
The friction was the match
that lit their passion.

Grandpa Izzy
funniest man I ever met
Drove an old 48 Ford
selling housewares in the Southern route.
In the morning far too early
Sneaking into his room
tickling his feet to the sounds
of ohhs and hoho's

At five years old
Grandpa Izzy
took me fishing
on some New Jersey pond -
Afternoon sun with yellow colors
bringing all the foliage alive

Sun setting
fish rising
a hand held in mine
defined the peace
I seek
in reoccurring dreams through out a lifetime

A troubled teen
all suicidal
the drive in the 48 Ford
with Grandpa Izzy
running down the Malibu pier
catching the half day boat before it
disappeared

Grandpa Izzy
never lived far from a race track
I don't know about those losing days
but the secret he said
Was to never lose your sense of humor
Always be able to laugh at yourself

Izzy smoked those big old chewed cigars
lived until he was 94

Ended up not knowing
Who or where he was

Maybe we all
end up
that way too

But in my memory
there is sharp focus
he remains alive in me

If heaven is there
I know I'll find
Izzy and I
on that New Jersey pond,
a fishing line
and
peace inside.

Grandparents are mythic creatures occupying a special place in our lives. I also want to acknowledge some were not so lucky as me, and grandparents were objects of fear and terror. Feel free to share your own experiences.

Sep 2016

Gwen Johnson

Autumn

I'm waiting for leaves to fall off trees
for art to fall at my feet
I'm waiting to wear baggy sweaters
to be wrapped in something cozy
I'm waiting for pumpkin pie
a delicious treat
I'm waiting for sipping on hot tea
my liquid warmth
I'm waiting for Autumn

#autumn

Sep 2016

Timothy Ward

A Winter's Tale (haiku 5-7-5)

a cold winter blast
two songbirds boldly took flight
eloquent silence

Sometimes haiku is utterly powerful and transcendent in its compactness and simplicity

#movingon

Sep 2016

Michael Murphy

I Wonder

I wonder

If the animal
The dog, duck, cat, and cow

Believe in life eternal
Or only think of now

I wonder

When the trees
Lose leaves

Will I hear them grieve

If they break a branch
Do they cry in pain

Do they think of God
Do they die in vein

I wonder

Who answers God's prayers
Does he pray at all

Or is that rare

I wonder

If God's so great
And we're so small

Are we like amebas
Does he care at all

I wonder

Wrote before my morning coffee...

#life

Sep 2016

Autumn Rose

The dried autumn leaf

Yesterday I
opened my old
poetry book, when
I found a pressed
autumn leaf.
Its fragrance took
me back in time,
back in that cold rainy day
Then I was so young
and beautiful
when it got caught in
my hair by the
mischievous wind,
bathed in sky's tears.
But now it's dried
And it will never
be as it was before.
Just like me...

Today i really did find an old autumn leaf pressed in my old poetry book. It brought back so many memories.
Good times...

#memories #sorrow #autumn #leaf

Sep 2016

Richard Riddle

"Tree of Life"

Your "Tree of Life" has many 'leaves'.......
not all are family...and friends

It's that person
   to whom you just said "Hi"....
While walking down the street

It's the driver of the car
   you let back out of that parking space...
and returned a wave as it was driven away

It's the homeless person
    to whom you gave a couple of dollars
without having been asked

It's that elderly person
    you let in front of you
in the check-out line at the grocery

It's those to whom you gave a smile
    those, whose name... you will never know
And may never......see again......

It's those acts of un-selfishness
     that seem to be 'minor' in scope.....
But, not.....to those addressed-

These are the 'leaves'
      that are on your....

'Tree of Life'...

Keep yours"watered", everyday

r. riddle 09-25-2016

Sep 2016

wordvango

next time

just a leaf left
on the pillow next to me
now, a whisper of smoke
vapor tracing your path

out the door
going back to the
limb I stole you from,
the place you must return

I rake my bed for more,
try to make
a place
for you to fall

again, next time.

Sep 2016

Lorraine day

Just A Tree?

Standing tall rooted to the ground
We watch the world go by
witnessing many happy sights
And some that make us cry

So many secrets do we hold
Locked in silence never told
We can be bought
We can be sold
And just like you We too get old

At times we change when seasons end
On rain and sun.
We must depend
Till We're felled by those
Who're not a friend

They cut us down with chain and saw
Believing we do not feel
But that's not true
We hurt like you
as scientists
Have revealed

Our roots connect to others
We warn of harm or threat
We have the greatest of respect
For those we've never met

We're here to serve a purpose
Not just for paper
Or for wood
So please help to preserve us
Our intentions are all good

Next time when you pass us by
Don't think it's just a tree ?
As without us theres no life force
We provide the air
You breathe ................

Sep 2016

alicia

Nostalgia

Autumn's amber hued
Sunday afternoons
are laced with regret
for days gone to soon.

Yellowed pages
folded and faded,
are the leaves underfoot,
sweet and decaying.

Now the fall moon
will be waning blue,
and so goes this life,
a memory too.

Sep 2016

guy scutellaro

once upon a winter's night

the snow...
all the street intoxicated by it.

a passing car's head light
disturbs the intelligence of her eyes.
"in sleepless dreams, I know you,"
she tells me.

and like the snow blowing across the deserted street,
a smile spreads across her face
and as her green eyes slowly lift

I look into them
and see van gogh
sitting in a lonely field
of twisted cypress trees
forever blue, mysterious
and possessed.

then, as a street light comes on,
her slim white hand
(whitened by eternal snows) reaches

and into that deeper dark we walk

in the distance the lonely tooting of a taxi horn.