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#kingfisher
Those halcyon days peace in the still gentle night with you Calm in the Winter prosperity Kingfishers on a sea of blue, Each word a star a stone passion that nests us in our waves Safe in a fragile rest upon me sacred moves inside me laves That quiet in the storms of life where life can breathe again, A small bright hope, you settled on the surface of ever been Amid trouble, luminous waters of a soul lie in your smooth Just enough for meaning to land slides inside softest groove Silent anticipation churns a wish into a well a piece of peace That rare you between wars, waiting on a shore, let go cease Standing on a shore, an invisible thought, she touches down Brooding all a life in me riding beauty filled us in the sound.
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Mar 14
Mar 14, 2026 at 8:19 AM UTC
Those Halcyon Days
the Kingfisher studies the river 'no fish swimming today' this 'today' that was bound to arrive too much effluent discharged futher up stream to many shareholders sharing out the spoils.
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Feb 4
Feb 4, 2026 at 7:43 AM UTC
water
I came down with an absent mind not fully fixed on seeing you knowing that the paused world has changed much and the art of letting go is survival, to avoid the pockets of hurt So with loose hope, I stepped clumsy to where you’d always been when with azure shock, there you were, half-memory, caught in the high speed shutter of my eye a teal and orange thrill Gone as soon as seen I could lean into the loss, but I knew you’d been here to prove this dull distemper will quit scars that remain will fade and I’ll see you again
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Apr 3, 2021
Apr 3, 2021 at 6:31 AM UTC
Kingfisher’s return
The kingfisher lazily perched today as a sorry river sloped below fish so visible that fishing felt like cheating But, y’know, gift horses and such, and a full mouth for the nest is best for everyone I guess though glimmer and flash are rarely seen without challenge we all need a dose of easy pickings to even the game
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May 20, 2020
May 20, 2020 at 9:59 AM UTC
Kingfisher Perched
#*A lone kingfisher Meditates on lotus bud Fish in the pond springs Tigress walks her cubs Ferocious, in her ways Grooms with love, to prey A stag in the woods Flies with swiftness of the wind Sacred its antlers*#
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May 1, 2020
May 1, 2020 at 2:01 PM UTC
Beauty in nature, Animals
The window is ***** and smudged But beyond lies perfect blue. Crisp cut against glowing walls lit yellow By the sunset's paradise kingdom. Endless and abounding in his kingfisher coat The sky swoops down to the water's surface To ****** our hearts from our *******
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Nov 16, 2018
Nov 16, 2018 at 1:08 PM UTC
Summer Sky
Kingfisher at rest, Aggression’s switch still twitch; Uncertain balance!
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Jul 11, 2018
Jul 11, 2018 at 8:51 PM UTC
King fisher’s twitching
The kingfisher darts through leafy branches and between trees, ringing and bustling as it gently lands from one bough to the next. I feel the breeze upon my shoulders, I smell the cattails and water lilies, I see the light of morning reflecting off the surface in dazzling ripples.   This river runs from Au Train Lake to Lake Superior, flowing with such purity, allowing nothing but tranquility of spirit.
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Aug 26, 2017
Aug 26, 2017 at 9:32 PM UTC
Theophany
Prowling through the undergrowth In our barging juggernaut, Ploughing the rolling hills of water, Which crease as the narrowboat sluggishly gliding past, Brushes the bulrushes like a tiger in the reeds. For four intrepid days Our film and photographs are empty to show, No sign, only missed whispers, Of the hummingbird blue blur. A darting flash cresting the morning chill, Regal turquoise stealthily steals Our attention, our focus, and our tiller Noses toward the bank hugger. And we have him. Small amber-royal fisherman, Eclipsing his heron heralds And the swans silent vigil In majestic lapis lazuli. Swift and sure he graces the water, Fisher King, Which bends beneath his dive. Resurfacing, his golden breast Mottled with silver minnow. There recluse in his exclusive spot, Fish foundering still in the ****** The kingfisher's poise frames his catch Aperture, shutter, captured shot.
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Jul 30, 2016
Jul 30, 2016 at 1:26 AM UTC
Kingfisher
“God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, courage to change the things I can, and wisdom to know the difference.” —The Serenity Prayer I. Heron I was born arrow-straight, built for flying, Three skipping stones past Otter Creek, hollow Bones blanketed by slate gray, blue stones slight And callused by well-worn prayers and shallow Swells of minnows — subterranean aches — And water cold on yellow scales, hardened By the calamity of sunsets, lakes — The drowning weight of too many pardons. Dip low, tend this broken shoreline sweetly, Spread shadowed wings and break honeyed silence. Forgiveness take flight at dusk, discreetly Written in psalms. Tepid soul find balance Between the calm, a resting river space This old trembling mind cannot displace. II. Quetzal After the storm, the chaos and quiet Meet like dew poised on timid fingertips And shallow grasses to quell the riot Stirring inside. Fix fragments of this ship Made of broken parts. My soul’s petrichor: Inhale failure with a benediction That fills tired lungs with bravery, before Nature proposed expectations — fiction Taut and mended by truth. The earth exhales In breaths refreshed by rain, accompanied By loudening trills and harmonious tales — The tremor of circumstance, and the need To continue existence like the weeds That grow in sidewalks despite human greed. III. The Pelican and the Gull American Magicicadas choose To surface seventeen years after birth For the purpose of recreation. The Blue Pelican cannot quietly unearth The patterns of the tide without the gull, But she does so with tireless trials And the moon at her back — the lunar pull Shaping stray shells for a little while. Twenty-one years of tawny solitude Shattered by innate desires, buried Deep by stubborn aches, and kindly allude To breathing for the first time. Weight carried And lifted by rekindled hope, reaching Sands like a button shell kissing the beach. IV. Kingfisher I pondered self-acceptance before diving Into seas uncharted, with the patience Of Tibetan monks softly harvesting Grains of sand on an abandoned shore. Since Emptiness is impermanence, we change Like shifting seas suspended in nature, Born from the crease of God’s hand — rearranged Flaws bound by circumstance. Come close. Nurture This silent heart into awakening. Beyond these gray waters surges the sun, Hopeful in the wake of a newfound spring, Ochre and alizarin. We become — Aware that no one saves us but ourselves, With self-worth rising in tremendous swells.
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Apr 27, 2015
Apr 27, 2015 at 4:07 PM UTC
Spirit of the Birds, a Declaration
“God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change, courage to change the things I can, and wisdom to know the difference.” —The Serenity Prayer I. Heron I was born arrow-straight, built for flying, Three skipping stones past Otter Creek, hollow Bones blanketed by slate gray, blue stones slight And callused by well-worn prayers and shallow Swells of minnows — subterranean aches — And water cold on yellow scales, hardened By the calamity of sunsets, lakes — The drowning weight of too many pardons. Dip low, tend this broken shoreline sweetly, Spread shadowed wings and break honeyed silence. Forgiveness take flight at dusk, discreetly Written in psalms. Tepid soul find balance Between the calm, a resting river space This old trembling mind cannot displace. II. Quetzal After the storm, the chaos and quiet Meet like dew poised on timid fingertips And shallow grasses to quell the riot Stirring inside. Fix fragments of this ship Made of broken parts. My soul’s petrichor: Inhale failure with a benediction That fills tired lungs with bravery, before Nature proposed expectations — fiction Taut and mended by truth. The earth exhales In breaths refreshed by rain, accompanied By loudening trills and harmonious tales — The tremor of circumstance, and the need To continue existence like the weeds That grow in sidewalks despite human greed. III. The Pelican and the Gull American Magicicadas choose To surface seventeen years after birth For the purpose of recreation. The Blue Pelican cannot quietly unearth The patterns of the tide without the gull, But she does so with tireless trials And the moon at her back — the lunar pull Shaping stray shells for a little while. Twenty-one years of tawny solitude Shattered by innate desires, buried Deep by stubborn aches, and kindly allude To breathing for the first time. Weight carried And lifted by rekindled hope, reaching Sands like a button shell kissing the beach. IV. Kingfisher I pondered self-acceptance before diving Into seas uncharted, with the patience Of Tibetan monks softly harvesting Grains of sand on an abandoned shore. Since Emptiness is impermanence, we change Like shifting seas suspended in nature, Born from the crease of God’s hand — rearranged Flaws bound by circumstance. Come close. Nurture This silent heart into awakening. Beyond these gray waters surges the sun, Hopeful in the wake of a newfound spring, Ochre and alizarin. We become — Aware that no one saves us but ourselves, With self-worth rising in tremendous swells.
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When you drive into water, We always wonder about ‘What you will bring for us’! When you fly back with fish....... We turn out to be delighted Since you blot prosperity for us! But when you rush back empty We befall to upset, As you bring misfortune for us! However, we love you! You are our fortune taller!
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May 30, 2014
May 30, 2014 at 2:22 PM UTC
Manchalenka