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your green eyes were as the mint

which gives good smell

and satisfy inner soul

let your sad out

throw it with your happy

and told yourself with confident

if the morning comes

the dark sure escapes
thetime is short when lovers talk and approach. let us forget our hate and face our enemy
~for Honey~

upon arrival in May, 2020, at the sheltering island:

sparser, leaner, the overage of summer fullness lacking,
some of the presumptuous early blooms silly attempting
with no success, the deceiving of new arrivals, while the many
naked branches, leaf-less, trees, struggling be fully realized, needy
to join, volunteer, with the troops of advancing green recruits

this no poem, just descriptive, a viewpoint, my eyes awaken
to calm waterways, white boat dots trawling, looking
for new births, bounties of raw refreshment, sailing to an audience
of landed, gentrified emerald grasses, their chorale singing ‘thirsty!’

of me they ask, who be you, we’ve not seen nary a human trod
our land and seascape for months many, we have no recollection,
no issuing, of an invitation to any two legged slightly-familiar interlopers, reply simple, essence of essential, I’m being, being here!

your shores shore me in ways undefinable, that my
travels and travails don’t dare accompany or defy,
looking for old friends, natural ones, some likely passed,  all
whilst I sing Over the Rainbow, wishing wishes wonderful

already becoming truth, eyes daren’t deceive, my somewhere
here, where a winter’s rainbow made its landing, dreams truthful revealed, richly greeted, our presence yet welcomed, by sea salted
odiferous air, lapidaries of sapphiric waves, animals of the Kingdom

the poetry nook members, askance asking, why, what so long took,
we, your audience, waiting patiently for a coming, to pen our
woods and tales, long, short and tall, prophecies of storms,
lighting crashes, of a stilling peacefulness, heaven-bequeathed

the Adirondack thrones, four kings, wearied worn, beyond gray,
show their weathering rings pride of ‘another year, we’ve survived,’
saying now, we’ll speak to the world, through you-man-poet,
our minions too, deer, wolves, rabbits, starfish, osprey, sea trout, piping plover, all winter survivors, will enjoin your verses

much to tell, newly created, new spells, to trance your eyes,
you seeing only our surfaces, guessing at our depths, our inherency,
looking for recovered keys to unlock your own hardy boyish mysteries, but ours, are perpetual unsolvable which is why,
you humans, ne’er fail to return

your soft footfalls, children’s shrieks, jewels to adorn us,
our nature, needs adoration and adulation, our tree limbs
for swinging on lumber-cut swings, flying towards our blued skies, requires humans to summer-slum, breaching the winters remaining slumbering yet few ends to join you when you at last first chant,

that, that’s where you will find me, 
thinking, think  to myself,
oh, what a wonderful  world.
Jac 7d
my dear, do not worry
too often
your flower is still young —
green, barely has it rooted.
the time will come
you will flourish,
as it will bloom.
pretty pretty flower that you are
Mitzi Ambrad May 23
Brush on one hand
Paint in the other
Poured a tint of green
Unto a pint of white.

I wanted more green.

You said stop
But it was too late
I already poured myself in
There was no turning back.

I wanted more green.

Instead, I got mint
Cold, cold minty hue
Now, I had to make do
With whatever green is left.

I wanted more green.

Green, green growth
And the best of my youth.
In memory of a failed paint mixing job that we were still able to 'wing'
Fiona May 20
It was a quiet place
Inside of that red room
Until the wind from inside shook the walls
Collapsing them outward
As the walls fell around her
The wildflowers appeared.
Growing rapidly
The red walls were replaced by
Blue Purple Yellow faces with Green stems.
She climbed those green stems,
For a long time.
So long she reached the top,
Where the Blue Purple Yellow faces stared into the sun.
She lay a top those wildflowers.
Closing her eyes,
Suddenly surrounded by red.
Inspired by Wild Flower, Fiona re-imagines the poem, 2 of 2.
The green in me is cleansing thee
Finds its way to the nearest tree
Spreading good like everyone should
In this world that we share.

It cuts through the sky like the rays of the sun
Peace and love has finally won
Reaching the ends of the Earth, seeking
For people like you and me.

Sing loud and find the joyous sound
That fills our hearts, making us proud
That we're human in a perfect union
Standing hand in hand

At last.
Thoughts?
Laura May 17
my eyes are laughing strolling arm in arm
cracking the pavement brimming of vibrations
stories of contentment, despondency
a feeling of being summoned urgently by an invite
gracious and acute
in the company of gods and goddesses
on a patch of green grass
i admit to being without admonition exceedingly happy
hybridstorm May 16
Burning beneath the ice,
bubbling effervescence,
torment it bears in violet,
silent as the owl lies the truth,
in the depths of the unknown soul.
Plead it to speak,
it stays quite.
Hope it comes out,
it stays invisible.
You have to befriend it,
for it is a dominance most uncooperative.
                                                                             -storm-
Truth is like the seed of poisonous fruit. You have to take all the risk and open the fruit, only then can you get the seed. Truth is many a time bitter and heart-wrenching. It also waits to push matters to the worst of limits before coming out. However, it is a power very furious. It could cause apocalypse or could be the apostrophe in your life begging you to hold on. Truth is very mysterious. Many people spent lifetimes trying to find it, others do so trying to deny it, there are others who try to hide it and some keep it in close confide. What your truth may be, wear it like a badge, for it is like a friend who demands your complete acceptance and understanding.
Ashlyn May 12
she is sunshine
with freckles like a sunflower,
and eyes like leaves,
sweetening my day like sugar.
she keeps me growing.
like a plant...
something like that
alanie May 11
her
that girl with green eyes
hazel rays of rising flames
how gentle they seemed
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