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With promises of the rising sun galore
Down the oceans deep & dark she diffused;
Churned by the finest unheard-of melodies
Contrived the tunes so soft and lyrics so sweet
Concealed it solemnly within a mysterious seashell, did she?

The ocean floor whipped and whacked vehemently
Unsettling the ***** & span seabed
Unbridling the galaxy of buoyant seashells
Washing up these secret treasure troves
Strewing them across those vagrant seashores.
Was she awaiting the passionate sublime Pursuer
Heeding to unravel the divine euphoric ode she once hummed?

Many a seashore he spurred & scrambled
Gone berserk for that special soothing one
Came across a myriad of elegant supreme seashells
Never found the mystical superlative one he'd been screening for.

He once whispered the code of love
Mellowing down her mysterious mazy ears
Unlocking a spree of pulsating sonnets
The odes of love from deep down her throbbing soulful heart.
How naive of him all these years
He had just discovered the evasive enigmatic shell
The mystical musical mellifluent conch shell
With its eternal pristine music well preserved for the ad rem.
-----------------------------------------------------------------­----------------------

Beneath Autumn's amber canopy, crimson leaves descend,
Breeze hums soft, winds rustle, golden branches fend.
Fields wear coats of copper, the skies a mellow blue,
Earth rests ever peaceful, wrapped in dreamy prismatic view.

But wait!

Whispers in the woodlands augur, of winter drawing near,
Streams grow silent and slower, the days are crisp and clear.
Autumn weaves her fading robe, down the vale and up the hill,
Trees now bare and blown alone, brace for the northern crispy chill.

She reigns bold with crystal breath, She adorns the silver mistal frost,
Locked in the slumber of icy warmth, world's mesmerized n bitten frost.
Yet there's beauty in Winter's bite, X'mas stars so sharp and bright,
The glaring moon does outshine, longest of all those lustrous nights.

Whispers stir the uncanny earth, Snow thaws timid and un-certain,
Tender shaven heads of buds uncurl, tranquil signs of birth unwhirl.
The air gets sweet with secret songs, Streams anew in lyrical reprise,
This stoic winter though lingering still, paves the way for spring's encore.

And aloha!

Spring blossoms bright and gay,
Skies sing choirs of purple nights, and vibrant radiant days.
Draped in spectrum hues, the air is filled with laughter cues,
Joy spills out from sprightly souls, life renews her tillowed-faery soles.

And there!

Summer sun ascends in blaze n might, Skies stretch far in endless blue,
Fields decked-up in emerald green, flowers enticing n kissed by dew.
Warmth that hums in every breeze, rollicks lush in flare and plume,
Golden rays embrace earth enchanted, Joy looms large in glints n glows.
Stanza 4: Soft whispers stir the uncanny earth, snow thaws timid n uncertain,
[Uncertain because, it's going to unmask the hidden dreams behind nature's winter curtain]

This poem fits primarily into the "quatrain type" idyll based nature poetry genre. Here are some characteristics that align it with this genre:

Themes of Nature: The poem tries to beautifully describe the changing seasons—autumn, winter, spring, and summer—highlighting their unique qualities and the beauty of the natural world.

Imagery: Vivid imagery is used throughout, painting a rich picture of landscapes, colors, and sensory experiences (e.g., "autumn's amber canopy," "golden rays," "crimson leaves").

Personification: Nature is personified, as seen in phrases like "She reigns bold with crystal breath," which adds depth and emotion to the portrayal of the seasons.

Rhythm and Flow: The poem has a musical quality, with a rhythmic flow that complements the theme of nature's symphony, making it feel both lyrical and harmonious.

Celebration of Change: The poem emphasizes the cyclical nature of life and the beauty in transitions between the seasons, a common theme in nature poetry.

Overall, it may also be classified under lyric poetry due to its personal reflection and emotional resonance regarding nature.
own the title, and perhaps
what follows, but,
“it,”
came & went,
like so many desires,
moments to momentarily,
only to retreat to unreachable
recesses,
shelves in my mind,
for Without Witchcrafon Steam,
no ladder exists
for them be cleansed
or reached,

except when my dreams bleed

it is almost unfair that time is
not
on my side,
that I am eaten alive
by insiders, no
that self~kerrects,
to mere acquaintances,
more or lessened to

NOR

does the peculiar rain’s
that exists in my brain,
permits the razors
not
to go undulled, unsullied,
no,
they are scathed to
unshaven , un-sharpened,
where &
when I search for a
bon mot, invariably
the answer is a 503.
gateway closed to thee/me,
by virtue of your lack of
virtues

nor
is the motif,
my scrappy pieces
of no resistance

for all are closing rapid,
and that’s an endpoint
of sordid…

now the brain bleeds
persistent
no contented to wait
for just dreams,
the rain is hard at work
24/7
 Sep 2024 vienna bombardieri
Jill
Beyond worth
Knew it at a glance
Never had a chance
Verdict-stuck and public scorned
Hardly noticed, never mourned

Beyond hope
Always them to blame
Father was the same
Ruling-locked and villain stained
Nature surely deep ingrained

Beyond thought
Pointless waste of time
Never mind the crime
Cover-judged and rubber stamped
Name and image rumour-tramped

Beyond help
Judges sit unmoved
Felonies unproved
Stigma-sword to reputation
Vanished view of approbation

Beyond sight
Don’t avert your eyes
Recognise the lies
Tarnish-washed and shame-suspended
Approbates with hands extended
       Repeat until we’re justice-mended
©2024

BLT Webster’s Word of the Day challenge (approbation) date 19th September 2024. Approbation is "a formal word that refers to praise or approval."

Thank you to CJ Sutherland for introducing me to this challenge!
I need a hug, a warm embrace,
To fill this empty, lonely space.
I miss the touch, the gentle care,
Of someone who is always there.

To love and be loved, a simple plea,
A heart that beats in harmony.
The nights are long, the days are cold,
Without a hand for mine to hold.

I dream of laughter, shared delight,
Of whispered words in soft moonlight.
A bond so strong, a love so true,
I miss the warmth of being with you.

Until that day, I’ll hold on tight,
To memories that light the night.
For love will come, I know it’s near,
And fill my world with joy and cheer.
I miss my wife
 Sep 2024 vienna bombardieri
Lea
Don't say anything, just
                         enjoy
               being
       there.
Say it all, it's just feelings.
Every morning I kneel and pray
For the needs of other people.
But nobody prays for me.
Fourteen ways my body fails
And my mind is failing too.
Yet nobody prays for me.
My needs are on the bottom shelf
I carefully set it up that way.
So nobody prays for me.
I thought I was invincible
But my needs outweigh my strength.
Won’t somebody somewhere pray for me.
             ljm
Orison is an archaic word for prayer.
Once there was this
woman that I could talk about
writing and
poetry with.
We talked about Emily and Bukowski,
and many others.
We were poets in our own right.
We shared tears and laughter,
like a joint among friends.
Once, we sang our daughter to sleep.
It was beautiful and sublime.
But, the brutal dawn destroyed that
glorious night.

She farted a lot, but I fell
in love with her anyway,
and her son too.
We even cooked together.
It was magnificent,
although she got a little bossy in
the kitchen.
I can still smell the coriander
and garlic and taste the salt on
the back of her neck.

I picked her wildflowers, and
ate well from her garden- all slippery and divine.
She had these pastel soft blue eyes,
like something out of a Degas painting.
She could be as mean as Humpty Dumpty,
all cracked and broken, yoke flowing everywhere.
And I couldn't fix her. And I certainly
couldn't put myself back together again.

And then one autumn, I turned around,
and she was gone. A wall went up.
Occasionally I could see her through the
holes in the bricks. But I knew that
I would never touch her again;
hold her, kiss her.
It made me feel sad and lonely.
But I keep her real close in my heart.
And some days that gets me by.
And other times, it's like she was
never there at all just a tender dream.

I want to escape the memory of her;
overdose on artichokes and avocados,
drowned in a sea of ****** Marys,
or run away to far-off lands,
like Montana or Idaho.
But, I'm afraid I'd still see her there,
in the Snake River or the wide open sky.
Here is a link to my you tube channel where I read my poetry from my recently published book, Seedy Town Blues Collected Poems, available on Amazon.com.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=cSAlwXq6VDA
This is a repost.
The short videos on my you tube channel are videos of my fishing trips.
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