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"broadleaf" poems
#(a travelogue) He stared down through the unbroken silence lapping the shoreline Water skippers dart around the rocks and windfall driftwood settled juxtaposed in cattail reeds and emerging broadleaf sprouts A petrified heartwood timber lie fallow waiting bare barked, hushed like a pining lover’s      timeworn love seat,      rubbed smooth as      the crystalline waters      of  half-moon lake Lingering for a while  ―   like a hidden stalker, a perched wildcat waiting for the full moon’s   swooning spell to saturate the thickening dusk quietude;      arousing the urgent      call of the wild — exhaled from the held breath of the wilderness nocturne     on half-moon lake The stillness was scattered with the soft downy hairs of the sleeping cattails,  and the newly shed catkins a spring gust bestrewed from a tall resin birch tree nigh the Sitka willows      He  sat  quietly ...      time out of mind ― tossing his eyes up into the sky; taking the time to read the stars ― catching  them  each  again as they fell into his gentle hands, to show him who he was Seeing their sparkly tracers   trail-out above the cattails,      from a distance they resembled falling stars unable to perceive their own renaissance ― plashing lightly upon the still-water      on half-moon lake A lone shadow glides stealthily near mid-tarn,.. swimming   enchantingly with the grace      of a blackswan Appearing to glance shoreward at the glowing low stars rise and fall, as his eyes twinkled skyward over      the moonlit lagoon ― heavenward of its moonlit ballet; the lone sleek dark shadow      slipping through      a faint circular ripple stirring the smooth as glass waters ―   disappearing like a fleeting moment      waning deep aneath      a subtle silent wake. When all the clear lines blurred, he knew it had been so long ...      but hearken ! … an interceding      long drawn out wail        echoed  a feral ache      across the stillness,      breaking the silence ― as the shadow reappeared;      his tears surrendered to the undulating call of the wild; he felt the spirit of the sole Loon,      as black and white      as the moonlit night, stir deeply in his wanting heart ―      lay bare the silence in lengthy yodeled psalms to the god of the moon Diving down deep yet again, keeping the light he’d been given, vanishing into the lifespring sanctuary of half-moon lake harlon rivers ... May 2018 travelogue: 4 of some more
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May 21, 2018
May 21, 2018 at 2:36 PM UTC
On half-moon lake ☽
#(a travelogue) He stared down through the unbroken silence lapping the shoreline Water skippers dart around the rocks and windfall driftwood settled juxtaposed in cattail reeds and emerging broadleaf sprouts A petrified heartwood timber lie fallow waiting bare barked, hushed like a pining lover’s      timeworn love seat,      rubbed smooth as      the crystalline waters      of  half-moon lake Lingering for a while  ―   like a hidden stalker, a perched wildcat waiting for the full moon’s   swooning spell to saturate the thickening dusk quietude;      arousing the urgent      call of the wild — exhaled from the held breath of the wilderness nocturne     on half-moon lake The stillness was scattered with the soft downy hairs of the sleeping cattails,  and the newly shed catkins a spring gust bestrewed from a tall resin birch tree nigh the Sitka willows      He  sat  quietly ...      time out of mind ― tossing his eyes up into the sky; taking the time to read the stars ― catching  them  each  again as they fell into his gentle hands, to show him who he was Seeing their sparkly tracers   trail-out above the cattails,      from a distance they resembled falling stars unable to perceive their own renaissance ― plashing lightly upon the still-water      on half-moon lake A lone shadow glides stealthily near mid-tarn,.. swimming   enchantingly with the grace      of a blackswan Appearing to glance shoreward at the glowing low stars rise and fall, as his eyes twinkled skyward over      the moonlit lagoon ― heavenward of its moonlit ballet; the lone sleek dark shadow      slipping through      a faint circular ripple stirring the smooth as glass waters ―   disappearing like a fleeting moment      waning deep aneath      a subtle silent wake. When all the clear lines blurred, he knew it had been so long ...      but hearken ! … an interceding      long drawn out wail        echoed  a feral ache      across the stillness,      breaking the silence ― as the shadow reappeared;      his tears surrendered to the undulating call of the wild; he felt the spirit of the sole Loon,      as black and white      as the moonlit night, stir deeply in his wanting heart ―      lay bare the silence in lengthy yodeled psalms to the god of the moon Diving down deep yet again, keeping the light he’d been given, vanishing into the lifespring sanctuary of half-moon lake harlon rivers ... May 2018 travelogue: 4 of some more
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The caterpillars preach their sermons, Crickets string their choirs, Under the shade of Broadleaf. Beetles teach their classes, The sunlight shines through the foliage, In the morning at Broadleaf. The leaves are green, The airport of insects is blue, A canopy above Broadleaf.
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Jan 16, 2016
Jan 16, 2016 at 12:37 AM UTC
Broadleaf
He’s shaved like a survivor of something And this is the first time I’ve realized, his Head normally baubled under a dark cap His arms spindle, bark bent at shoulder and elbow The leaf of his hands shiver around a 6B I watch him become a Broadleaf before my eyes He stretches long around the room Determined to crowd every corner Trundling, truncated at root I wish to be as I see him A beautiful tangle, loud in motion and Silent in speech, sprinting full speed His feet pound in dirt, Name sprawled on the walls in capital BLACK Demanding to be heard or at least recognized He is the mystery of the day, every day The jumbled stranger, in pieces strewn & unsolved -- c
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Mar 25, 2019
Mar 25, 2019 at 4:50 PM UTC
Charcoal Brow
prejudiced both against each other and , see a red squirrel or fox the same, as a conveyer, of seeds. The pine tree, or cedar, just as me, grows acidic green year round, day and night, commenting little as possible striving to get the sun and water, not judging the broadleaf nor the four leaf clovers, just rising above the reaches of it all. Flora vs. Fauna, aura in clorophyll, or flesh the squirrels don't care what species, color, race , gender, or whether you like hims or hers, just put in their pouch whatever, stand on back legs, laughingly adorable, going their way.
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Jul 8, 2015
Jul 8, 2015 at 10:03 PM UTC
Oaks vs. Elms
Like water A weeping willow swaying in the wind The reeds waving to the cosmos I am a fable breaking the fourth wall Look through my window and sing it with me You are telling lies so I can promise you nothing and You are slithering through the cracks in my mind and Now I am flying through the cracks of your words See me moving to the rhythm of my heart I am dancing to the pulsations of the distant stars Flowing up and out like the nectar from a honeysuckle Honey and milk pouring from my throat Sip the dew from the Broadleaf sage and breathe in its hearty breath There are diamonds glistening from the pine trees and quartz crystals dripping from the sky and These pine cones are red roses These nettles they are black feathers fanning white clouds and this lake here is your soul with your eyes in its reflection and the ripples on its surface undulate in loving breath with the universe
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Sep 15, 2015
Sep 15, 2015 at 1:42 PM UTC
ripplewillow