"clovered" poems
Make my life a hollow reed
That will bend now in stormy breeze
For in numbers I find my strength
Beneath the willow tree
Make my life like the rock
Piled high upon , top to top
A stonewall that runs for miles
Around my lands it stands
Make my life short and sweet
Give me peace not dire defeat
Give me love and woman's sigh
Amidst the clovered fields
Make my life a Godly song
One that knows right from wrong
With wisdon as old as stars
I'll dance inside the fire
Make my life to unfold
I am tired , my shoes have holes
My dreams are seeds cast to the wind
And just the husk remains
Make my life now come to end
It's my time to propend
I'll walk among the ghost's remains
And willingly I quote
Hollow reeds will bend not break
Holow reeds will not forsake
Of hollow reeds my death bed make
And lie amongst the stars
Oct 21, 2014
Oct 21, 2014 at 1:23 PM UTC
Glistening through shafts of sunlight, I spy the silvery dragonfly,
Hovering above the clovered knoll,
Swaying like wheat in speckled sun.
Cantering up grassy hills, away from the stream,
The bleating goats exchange existential crises,
Brushing past the whispering tulips ablaze in the sunset.
Behind me,
In the shade of oaks, in spiraling dusts,
Decaying logs half buried in the windbreak
Rekindle and animate in the orange beams.
I stand up and sip my beer, as the stars blink and stutter.
A snowy owl whooshes past, wishing for rain.
Somebody loves me.
May 4, 2010
May 4, 2010 at 5:00 PM UTC
7 o'clock
a light summertime dream
just before dark
unfolding it's scheme
painted in sandals
clovered kissed toes
lovely green shamrocks
are standing in prose
a fierce looking cat
Amber eyes
silver fur
bunting her leg
and giving a purrrr
getting back home
nearly hour gone by
look to the tree
playing ball in the sky
it looks like the moon
nearly 3 quarter size
outlined in countries
is neatly disguised
it's actually a ball
playing with leaves
That thing called the moon
has some tricks up its sleeves
she saw it glide down
and bounce off of a cloud
tipping it's hat
and bowing to town
See you tomorrow
her group of new friends
this just the beginning
we're far from the end
No need for luck
with her beau in the sky
a 3 quartered boy
with love in his eyes
she bows to the moon
as her Gypsy skirt flows
silver cat walking
wherever she goes
shamrock tipped pom poms
will twinkle her toes
Another summer time walk
with his dearest of Maidens
her toes and her eyes
are moon dipped and ladden
Goodnight Moon.
Cherie Nolan© 2016
Jun 16, 2016
Jun 16, 2016 at 7:57 PM UTC
(spring come
)come spring
spring come wetly
out the freezing serious
hair o' winter come
spring
thy greenest countenance
come lathered
(Spring in
thy poppy and
thy clovered
divine thighs)
O spring i,
in thy many
splendored love, in
thy loose and carefree
shapely plush pocket
,will lay in heaped
crushing wafts of
june bugs and
apples and gods
(the wilting rind
of day will kiss
plummeting eve
upon the tousled
breach of sky andEarth
will sorely muster
russet flecked charming
slatterned trees about
my careful self
)and your *****
pleasant smell
willto meander
in the failing
hues of
unsnowed languid
hillocks
be most a riotous
silent crudeness
and i will love you most
roughly Spring
i'll tear away the careful
pretty clothing
flowers and with
your crudlovely
naked salt
i will
play,
.
'
.
,
'
,
,
.
Jan 18, 2012
Jan 18, 2012 at 5:10 PM UTC
(there is always this moment)
quietly . littlely
soft within
bed and thinking
of lips eyes hair
breathing
still and strenuously
pressed beneath breast .
the heart feels
and pushes against
rib and spine;
(a fan plays
/
the cat eats)
and lingers little sleep,
for thought is always
and always of thoughts
there is something
somewhere
difficultly serene
improbable to touch
yet touches with
exacting grace;
My dear:
My love
of nothing
Little which
you are
not real
your hand is a vapor
of tense reeling to tingle
under skin which rushes
with clovered spice
of splintered health.
(my love i have always loved you
that you are not something real;
Sep 16, 2016
Sep 16, 2016 at 1:11 AM UTC