Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Robert C Howard Nov 2015
Earth (Pangaea)

Pangaea heaved and shifted
beneath the fire-storm sky.
Colliding plates and spewing mountains
shook, roared and thundered
under the brutal chaos
of torrential cataclysms.

In time she yielded her ire
to millennia of pacific rains -
her severed crust
set adrift across the oceans
like gigantic earthen rafts.

Jungles sprang up and terrible lizards
came, grazed and left their bones.
Forests, grains and multifarious beasts
grew and perished in accord
with their past and future destinies.

So here we are - earthbound,
tossed from our mothers' wombs -
fated to live and breed
by the grace of miracles
far beyond our ken.

Beloved mother Gaia,
from whose dust we are raised,
nurture and sustain us
and sing us to our mortal sleep.

2. Air

Air - earth's miracle brew of
     oxygen, nitrogen and all the rest
          meted out in perfect harmony.

Air - silent and still on a moonlit night -
     driver of sheeted rain on window panes -
          and winds that shake the trembling aspens.

Air - author of land and ocean squalls -
     bringer of that ominous pallor
          that presages a tornado's furor

Air - invisible aerial highway
     for majestic eagles and turbo-jets -
         medium of rhetoric and symphonies.

Air – window to the cosmos
      and our fragile life–giving broth -
          unwitting conveyer of toxic alchemy.

Keep watch my sisters and brothers:
     the air we breathe is what we make it
          or rather what we let it be.

3. Water

Water like a capricious deity
     wanders through time and topography -
     cherished and cursed for
     what it gives and what it takes away.

Gentle rains and strident gales
     sculpt rivers and streams
     through forests and plains
     bound for union with the open sea.

Diurnal tides ebb and wane
     at the whim of the charismatic moon.
     Ice mountains advance and retreat;
     rock-strewns moraines left in their wake.

Turbulent currents
     soar over jagged cataracts,
     spraying pastel prisms
     across the misted valleys.

Beneath our all too fragile skins,
     secret sanguine rivers navigate
     our veins and arteries
     bathing organs, limbs and sensors
     with curative balm and sustenance.

Wellspring of all elements,
     fill our daily ladles
     and grant us the will and empathy
     to bequeath the same to our progeny.

4. Fire

Two hundred million years ago
our Paleolithic cousins
seized branches from a burning forest
and stepped into a bold new world.

By the glow of fire-lit caves,
and the scent of searing venison,
they gathered wits and tools
to craft shelters and weaponry.

Their children's children would design
forges and furnaces, factories
and build engines that run on fire.

But their anxious siblings in despair
snatched lightning from the sky
and twisted by fits of anger pride
made also muskets, missiles, bombs
and nuclear Armageddons.

Loki, god of nobler flames
open our blood-stained eyes
and show us the means
to stay our arson lust and
abide by the light of reason.

*Revised and integrated version, December, 2015
These four poems are aligned with a set of piano preludes of the same title completed 12-21-2016. Here is a link to the music https://clyp.it/user/1qruizko
Jolene Heather Nov 2015
She was wild in a way that was swaying and ancient
It was not a crazy whipping about of emotion
But a building swell and a powerful and slow release
But most did not understand this
So when they touched her hips
They just held on
But she needed someone
To do so much more than hold on
She needed that slow
So slow you didn’t know it was happening
Slow steering
Gentle erosion
Like the water does to the mountain
The wind to the desert
She needed those ancient drums
To keep her rhythm
To loose her demons
To be free
Iris Oct 2015
For some reason, the wind today feels unpleasantly cold.
Perhaps it is the by-product of my imagination but then again,
Perhaps the elements are trying to send me a message.  

With the chilling winds piercing through my bones,
I can’t stop the aching from my old wounds.
Sombro Oct 2015
Breath to breath
Our winds, our mixing
I don't know if I'll handle
This hurricane.

But don't let me tell you
It's immoral,
We both know
That holds no water.

Skin to skin,
Ashes to ashes
The earth comes up
To meet our confusion.

Smoke, oh god, smoke.
My mind's become kindling
I burn for you
Fire is an evening well spent.

Don't let anyone tell you
You're a Machiavellian lover
For
Severity is its own reward

And I can be yours.
I'm not too sure how well I brought Machiavelli into this poem. I'm reading him at the moment and this poem came to me. It's funny how that happens, isn't it?
Snow Wolf Sep 2015
Maybe when the crows start flying.
Maybe when the ravens start gliding.
Maybe when the squirrels start crawling,
And the wolves start burrowing,
And the bears start hibernating,
And the mosquitoes start disappearing.

Maybe I'll go into that forest, so enchanting, so mysterious.
So white, so bare.
Yet the most beautiful I've ever seen.
The ground is snow, the sky is night, peppered with the souls of the universe. The day is dark, the air is cold, now it's time to do my part.

My eternal promise, now too aged to be left undone.
I've made my speeches, and I've said my goodbyes.
Into the Dead Forest I go.
Into the white bulls-eye, where my deed must be done.
I now give myself to the elements.
I let their power break me down, crush my shield.
I let them take my soul, and let my spirit rise.
A ritual, a ceremony.
I have the power to bring life, and to bring death.
And I have the power to decide.
And so I have decided I would give up my power, my life, my heart, And all for the sake,
Of those I love.
I learned a long time ago that usually, in any form of entertainment or reality, snow symbolizes death. Have you ever seen a movie or read a book that has a scene with snow in it? Does anyone or even anything die whenever there's snow around? Have you noticed that? Think about it :)
Elements, indivisible, naked
A single wayward rain drop falls from above
Clouds a whisper away
Sun heat thawing my helplessness
Tender wind cascading in the space between my fingers
Stubborn bones draped on stubborn rocks
Awake again, surrendering to their dance
An afternoon respite in our rocky mountain backyard. Co-authored by Ryan and Anna.
Poetic T Aug 2015
The first leaf born from the forests seeding. Birthing
What flourished, grew here today. Each woodland had
A keeper, a life born from seed to the fruit of souls.

Animals nourished this new born, language of each
Taught, spoken winds told her of what happened
Near and far the woodland was a majestic place.

Upon a staff the first leaf flourished free floating
Energies of the forest flowed, emanated from its aura.
The winds spoke and she listened staff  held in hand.

A light birthed from the sky had found ground and
Trees set ablaze in it anger, their cries heard felt, pain
As life was slowly turned to lifeless ash, she cried.

As her staff called upon elements, ground, water, air.
Each apart to platy as the stream did rise upon the
Banks water did touch her feet and the staff came down.

The vines did drop entwined in circular stance and water
Fed and rained out, quenching diluting flames anger.
The pain felt as smouldering now floating ash.

Her hand felt the orchard of blackened bark, some lost.
But in time new life would flourish where it fell, consumed
To ash before. A seed she settled where new birth given form.

She bowed to the forest for it guidance. A droplet feel from
The first leaf, a tear of sorrow for what was lost, nourishing,
Healing those not fallen bark did scar, reminders of before.

She walks among the trees, the winds talk too her, she laughs
Sometimes a joke maybe wind is funny that way, the cycle
Continues she is the guardian of first leaf, and then she walks.
Jasmine Martin Aug 2015
Hot desert winds’ve come up suddenly and
covered my reality with a blanket
of Sahara dust
obscuring the mountains
like fog in the fall

The view I so love is cast
in an eerie yellowish grey light
the endless horizon cut down to a fraction
of itself
surreal and unfamiliar

I’m feeling slightly schizophrenic

How can there be silence when
winds are howling and
why does my reality feel
so still
while everything’s clearly
in motion?
Sound in silence and movement in stillness
Blending dimensions are rattling
my mind as space and time
lose their meaning
for a while

Curiously detached from
what I observe yet
simultaneously
intensely involved I behold
these realities that are tumbling
in and out of each other

And I’m faintly aware of my leaden limbs

All the while
three little butterflies
gracefully defying gravity
are spiralling in an infinite dance around
my heavy form
inviting me to celebrate life
in the eye of
the storm

Mesmerized by this lightness of being
I contemplate my
quirky reality bubble
the appearance of which’d changed from
photoshop crispness to
confusing diffusion  
turning sparkling colors into
a blur of drab pastels

The meseta lays parched, silently hiding
in a cloud of sand and holding its breath
in this searing onslaught
no goats bells are ringing
or horses neighing
ev’n the cricket has ceased to sing

But undisturbed and unperturbed
the butterflies keep dancing


Then
from one instant to the next
the storm has drowned in a moment of
deafening silence
time’s standing still
neither sound nor movement until
a sudden cool breeze shivers me out of
my reverie

Now distant thunder in darkened skies  
is promising long awaited rain
and creation breathes out
in relief

And undisturbed and unperturbed
the butterflies keep dancing



©Jasmine, Vilacarillo, Spain, August 7, 2015
Observing my reality bubble from my hammock during siesta
As soon as I saw you I saw the lightning aura around you
The neon letting you flow from within
Properties of gadolinium are an excuse
A magnetic principle is what I say
Amazed at the oxygen that flows from your being
Yet shocked at the purity of life you support around you
Your smile like rubidium
Turning the light around you into energy
This helps fuel my inner battery
Which is possibly lined with lead
I'm able to feel the strong calcium within your body
Which is large enough to create multiple bones and beautiful shells
So perfect that you can go with anything gold
Which is why any jewelry is lucky to be yours
But your reach of perfection is further
As you go with any tellurium
Any coloring that's seen within a stained glass window
Just on you will make you look angelic
But to me your beauty is nothing but bromine
Nothing but *poisonous
Going back to the type of poet I truly am. A love poem that utlilizes elements and their uses in the real world.
Next page