"crape" poems - Hello Poetry

"crape" poems

* Crape myrtle blooms form the entrance now leading Into the garden of dreams that we share Rose buds and hyacinths tickle our senses Blending their fragrance so sweet with the air Lantana flowers in yellows of lemon Paint summer sunrises along the wall Hibiscus petals are raining so softly Before our eyes as their beauty does fall Daffodil dimples now show as they're smiling Watching the two of us learn happily That since we met we have found our dream garden Grows of our love now a reality*

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Aug 13, 2016

Aug 13, 2016 at 10:19 PM UTC

Daffodil dimples

* Crape myrtle blooms form the entrance now leading Into the garden of dreams that we share Rose buds and hyacinths tickle our senses Blending their fragrance so sweet with the air Lantana flowers in yellows of lemon Paint summer sunrises along the wall Hibiscus petals are raining so softly Before our eyes as their beauty does fall Daffodil dimples now show as they're smiling Watching the two of us learn happily That since we met we have found our dream garden Grows of our love now a reality*

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I gave away my heartbeats to a black dark night sculpted a stone into a new heart with each daily news break hanging from my dreams like silk shrouds for all the dead of just one day on Earth while the night unfolded her mystery and my heartbeats were pulsars in a distance too great to travel while my stone heart was stoic and hardened to grief I make paper flowers , now, out of black crape, for all those about to enter the land of the dead.

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Jan 5, 2016

Jan 5, 2016 at 11:54 AM UTC

The Land Of The Dead

I gave away my heartbeats to a black dark night sculpted a stone into a new heart with each daily news break hanging from my dreams like silk shrouds for all the dead of just one day on Earth while the night unfolded her mystery and my heartbeats were pulsars in a distance too great to travel while my stone heart was stoic and hardened to grief I make paper flowers , now, out of black crape, for all those about to enter the land of the dead.

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255 To die—takes just a little while— They say it doesn’t hurt— It’s only fainter—by degrees— And then—it’s out of sight— A darker Ribbon—for a Day— A Crape upon the Hat— And then the pretty sunshine comes— And helps us to forget— The absent—mystic—creature— That but for love of us— Had gone to sleep—that soundest time— Without the weariness—

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1.6k

Emily Dickinson

To die—takes just a little while

255 To die—takes just a little while— They say it doesn’t hurt— It’s only fainter—by degrees— And then—it’s out of sight— A darker Ribbon—for a Day— A Crape upon the Hat— And then the pretty sunshine comes— And helps us to forget— The absent—mystic—creature— That but for love of us— Had gone to sleep—that soundest time— Without the weariness—

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390 It’s coming—the postponeless Creature— It gains the Block—and now—it gains the Door— Chooses its latch, from all the other fastenings— Enters—with a “You know Me—Sir”? Simple Salute—and certain Recognition— Bold—were it Enemy—Brief—were it friend— Dresses each House in Crape, and Icicle— And carries one—out of it—to God—

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1.4k

Emily Dickinson

It’s coming—the postponeless Creature

390 It’s coming—the postponeless Creature— It gains the Block—and now—it gains the Door— Chooses its latch, from all the other fastenings— Enters—with a “You know Me—Sir”? Simple Salute—and certain Recognition— Bold—were it Enemy—Brief—were it friend— Dresses each House in Crape, and Icicle— And carries one—out of it—to God—

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The crape myrtle in front of his parents house together with several strains of palmatum acer whose twigs had been broken by his childhood-favorite ball still somehow grew up with him The swing carried his tender laughter lifted by the white oak once bearded his tiny footprints Will they remember him The toy car he had used as a skateboard sitting in a dust-covered corner of the attic accompanied by a broken water gun carrying his innocent dreams The afternoon sunlight covering the empty dinning table as gentle as it was on his face dozens of snowfalls ago Will they remember him The basketball used to hop around him witnessed numerous of his rejoicing moments now being wiped as new, inflated every once a while sitting on the bookshelf aside the medals and badges internally telling the stories of honor and courage in a voice we may never hear with our ears Will they remember him The swallows making nest under the eaves of his old apartment whose injured ancestor years ago had been carefully held in his hands cured, fed, and set free The quiet hybrid dog who has met many generations of this swallow family after being rescued by him from a trash can Will they remember him The scarf he had worn for many winters now tightly hugging the neck of this shepherd boy The compass he received as twelfth birthday gift now treasured in an orphan's pocket guarding every gunfire-lightened, terrified night Will they remember him The helmet and bulletproof vest on which painted camouflage has been worn and fading tasted his sweat in many places of the world The dogtag polished by his burly chest The cloudless sky reflected from his wide-opened eyes The sands and stones witnessed thousands of years of human self-redemption now lying under him dyed by the dark scarlet bursting out from his motionless body They will remember him.

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Jan 20, 2014

Jan 20, 2014 at 12:30 PM UTC

The crape myrtle in front of his parents house together with several strains of palmatum acer whose twigs had been broken by his childhood-favorite ball still somehow grew up with him The swing carried his tender laughter lifted by the white oak once bearded his tiny footprints Will they remember him The toy car he had used as a skateboard sitting in a dust-covered corner of the attic accompanied by a broken water gun carrying his innocent dreams The afternoon sunlight covering the empty dinning table as gentle as it was on his face dozens of snowfalls ago Will they remember him The basketball used to hop around him witnessed numerous of his rejoicing moments now being wiped as new, inflated every once a while sitting on the bookshelf aside the medals and badges internally telling the stories of honor and courage in a voice we may never hear with our ears Will they remember him The swallows making nest under the eaves of his old apartment whose injured ancestor years ago had been carefully held in his hands cured, fed, and set free The quiet hybrid dog who has met many generations of this swallow family after being rescued by him from a trash can Will they remember him The scarf he had worn for many winters now tightly hugging the neck of this shepherd boy The compass he received as twelfth birthday gift now treasured in an orphan's pocket guarding every gunfire-lightened, terrified night Will they remember him The helmet and bulletproof vest on which painted camouflage has been worn and fading tasted his sweat in many places of the world The dogtag polished by his burly chest The cloudless sky reflected from his wide-opened eyes The sands and stones witnessed thousands of years of human self-redemption now lying under him dyed by the dark scarlet bursting out from his motionless body They will remember him.

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The Dogwoods bloom in the name of Nellie .. Anointed with Spring flowers .. Gardenia , Sunflower and Crape Myrtle .. Whispering hymns , tolling the farm bell , calling her children home ...

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Dec 16, 2015

Dec 16, 2015 at 9:20 AM UTC

randolph-l-wilson

The Dogwoods bloom in the name of Nellie .. Anointed with Spring flowers .. Gardenia , Sunflower and Crape Myrtle .. Whispering hymns , tolling the farm bell , calling her children home ...

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Tuesday is a 'Whisper shower' away A night without fearsome lightning nor blustery winds The entrancing song of tickled chimes from front porch swings Harmonious pitter -patter of evening rains The steady trickle of copper , gutter drains Sweet , melodic call of Barn Owls o'er darkened fields Gentle drops of healing water from Cottonwood , Magnolia and Crape Myrtle trees , splendiferous offerings courtesy of cumulonimbus progeny , eventide hail of Spring Killdeer , Mockingbird and Whippoorwill harmony

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Apr 11, 2016

Apr 11, 2016 at 11:10 PM UTC

randolph-l-wilson

Rainy Monday ....

Tuesday is a 'Whisper shower' away A night without fearsome lightning nor blustery winds The entrancing song of tickled chimes from front porch swings Harmonious pitter -patter of evening rains The steady trickle of copper , gutter drains Sweet , melodic call of Barn Owls o'er darkened fields Gentle drops of healing water from Cottonwood , Magnolia and Crape Myrtle trees , splendiferous offerings courtesy of cumulonimbus progeny , eventide hail of Spring Killdeer , Mockingbird and Whippoorwill harmony

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circumscribed circumstances circumspect ~ *these then the circumstances, that circumscribe my essentials the surround-sound orb walls of choices made and yet-to-be-made delimiting me, making me wary of the unforeseen, more circumspect of what I will someday have chosen recall standing on the now crushed, destroyed subway platform of the Cortlandt Street Station, debating take this job or that took the one but a crow mile fly away (and not the one that didn't survive) come that day, me, audience observer then,, not one of the death undefying unwilling circus performers, and heroes, when I pass the covered up burial sight, the many nearby and forever crinkly crape draped firehouses, or open the drawer where I have saved the tidbits of that particular day's memories walk home, a covenant reaffirmed, a circumcision of the soul renewed a circumcision upon the soul, the renewed cut, sheds, allows some light into the circularity of life* 9/11/16

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Oct 15, 2016

Oct 15, 2016 at 9:47 AM UTC

circumscribed circumstances circumspect 9/11

circumscribed circumstances circumspect ~ *these then the circumstances, that circumscribe my essentials the surround-sound orb walls of choices made and yet-to-be-made delimiting me, making me wary of the unforeseen, more circumspect of what I will someday have chosen recall standing on the now crushed, destroyed subway platform of the Cortlandt Street Station, debating take this job or that took the one but a crow mile fly away (and not the one that didn't survive) come that day, me, audience observer then,, not one of the death undefying unwilling circus performers, and heroes, when I pass the covered up burial sight, the many nearby and forever crinkly crape draped firehouses, or open the drawer where I have saved the tidbits of that particular day's memories walk home, a covenant reaffirmed, a circumcision of the soul renewed a circumcision upon the soul, the renewed cut, sheds, allows some light into the circularity of life* 9/11/16

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Spring. Tulips bloom and our crape myrtle grows, Along with our hope For a more promising year Summer. Seizures rock our world. Emanating like earthquakes From the fault lines of her brain Autumn. Leaves shrivel and drop Just like she does when she loses her balance, And falls to the ground. Winter. Cold winds and dark thoughts give me dry skin. A red rash that is a physical embodiment of the irritation Seething beneath my pale complexion.

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Feb 21, 2012

Feb 21, 2012 at 6:43 PM UTC

The Seasons of Mary

Spring. Tulips bloom and our crape myrtle grows, Along with our hope For a more promising year Summer. Seizures rock our world. Emanating like earthquakes From the fault lines of her brain Autumn. Leaves shrivel and drop Just like she does when she loses her balance, And falls to the ground. Winter. Cold winds and dark thoughts give me dry skin. A red rash that is a physical embodiment of the irritation Seething beneath my pale complexion.

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743 The Birds reported from the South— A News express to Me— A spicy Charge, My little Posts— But I am deaf—Today— The Flowers—appealed—a timid Throng— I reinforced the Door— Go blossom for the Bees—I said— And trouble Me—no More— The Summer Grace, for Notice strove— Remote—Her best Array— The Heart—to stimulate the Eye Refused too utterly— At length, a Mourner, like Myself, She drew away austere— Her frosts to ponder—then it was I recollected Her— She suffered Me, for I had mourned— I offered Her no word— My Witness—was the Crape I bore— Her—Witness—was Her Dead— Thenceforward—We—together dwelt— I never questioned Her— Our Contract A Wiser Sympathy

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942

Emily Dickinson

The Birds reported from the South

743 The Birds reported from the South— A News express to Me— A spicy Charge, My little Posts— But I am deaf—Today— The Flowers—appealed—a timid Throng— I reinforced the Door— Go blossom for the Bees—I said— And trouble Me—no More— The Summer Grace, for Notice strove— Remote—Her best Array— The Heart—to stimulate the Eye Refused too utterly— At length, a Mourner, like Myself, She drew away austere— Her frosts to ponder—then it was I recollected Her— She suffered Me, for I had mourned— I offered Her no word— My Witness—was the Crape I bore— Her—Witness—was Her Dead— Thenceforward—We—together dwelt— I never questioned Her— Our Contract A Wiser Sympathy

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~ Crape myrtle highlights in chartreuse diversions, oak tree decisions along brittle stem Maple leaf push pins and ash scented postcards Autumn approaches, its fingers to send Northern now breezes as petals start falling, blending the colors of November dreams Days count much shorter and windows are open, change in direction a’ dance on the stream Standing behind me now caught in the mirror, reflections of summer and hummingbird song leaves painted softer in patterns of wishes butterfly tickles may happen along Warm apple cider and scarves plaid and woolen, hang from the pegs in the entryway hall Come again welcomes on echoes of sunlight send out the greeting, the coming of fall

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Nov 11, 2014

Nov 11, 2014 at 3:45 PM UTC

The Coming of Fall

~ Crape myrtle highlights in chartreuse diversions, oak tree decisions along brittle stem Maple leaf push pins and ash scented postcards Autumn approaches, its fingers to send Northern now breezes as petals start falling, blending the colors of November dreams Days count much shorter and windows are open, change in direction a’ dance on the stream Standing behind me now caught in the mirror, reflections of summer and hummingbird song leaves painted softer in patterns of wishes butterfly tickles may happen along Warm apple cider and scarves plaid and woolen, hang from the pegs in the entryway hall Come again welcomes on echoes of sunlight send out the greeting, the coming of fall

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Savannah is beautiful is she not, With her lovely homestead lots? Have you seen her in the spring? She is the most charming thing. Azaleas blooming everywhere, Adorning parks and town squares: Fuchsia, red, pink, and white. Such a breathtaking sight. Dogwoods scattered here and there, Nestled among the trees. Magnolia fragrance fills the air, Borne by gentle breeze. Wisteria lends a delicate touch. The aged oak we love so much. How charming, spirited and brisk; So beautiful and picturesque. Crape myrtle with a crimped look Brightens lawns and scenic nooks. The river with its gentle flow. The beach where many love to go. Juniper, cypress and cedar too, Give contrast with their dark-green hue. The sago palm in bold fanfare Is seen almost everywhere. Savannah is fortunate to be Richly filled with history. Beautiful art for all to see Adorns the various galleries. Fancy eating, southern style. Down-home cooking worthwhile. A little time is all it takes To visit the restaurants and lakes. Come see Savannah in the spring; Enjoy the view that nature brings. And may God's blessings ever be Upon our city by the sea.

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Jan 24, 2015

Jan 24, 2015 at 2:26 AM UTC

walterrean-salley

Savannah in the Spring

Savannah is beautiful is she not, With her lovely homestead lots? Have you seen her in the spring? She is the most charming thing. Azaleas blooming everywhere, Adorning parks and town squares: Fuchsia, red, pink, and white. Such a breathtaking sight. Dogwoods scattered here and there, Nestled among the trees. Magnolia fragrance fills the air, Borne by gentle breeze. Wisteria lends a delicate touch. The aged oak we love so much. How charming, spirited and brisk; So beautiful and picturesque. Crape myrtle with a crimped look Brightens lawns and scenic nooks. The river with its gentle flow. The beach where many love to go. Juniper, cypress and cedar too, Give contrast with their dark-green hue. The sago palm in bold fanfare Is seen almost everywhere. Savannah is fortunate to be Richly filled with history. Beautiful art for all to see Adorns the various galleries. Fancy eating, southern style. Down-home cooking worthwhile. A little time is all it takes To visit the restaurants and lakes. Come see Savannah in the spring; Enjoy the view that nature brings. And may God's blessings ever be Upon our city by the sea.

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November Sun , refusing to reveal her loneliness , a cloudy piece of the world in tears this morning .. A red tailed Hawk , grounded by rain just outside my window , a blue dragonfly sailing aimlessly across the meadow .. The vigor and warmth of Summer , the candle of hope lighting the night has abated .. Tall Oaks , Magnolias and Crape Myrtles like lovers , stand naked , unashamed .. My eyes have lost peripheral vision , anxiety taken command of my consciousness , rumors of intrigue whisper softly on warm southern winds .. The physical forces in mechanical motion , condemnation of my spirit at the hour of the eruption .. My demon narcolepsy , a marionette of ploy and trickery for a student of hope standing dead on both feet .. With a red heart on your sleeve , she wears a smile well , like many a familiar door , slipping quietly from within my grasp ...

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Nov 18, 2015

Nov 18, 2015 at 1:02 PM UTC

randolph-l-wilson

November Sun , refusing to reveal her loneliness , a cloudy piece of the world in tears this morning .. A red tailed Hawk , grounded by rain just outside my window , a blue dragonfly sailing aimlessly across the meadow .. The vigor and warmth of Summer , the candle of hope lighting the night has abated .. Tall Oaks , Magnolias and Crape Myrtles like lovers , stand naked , unashamed .. My eyes have lost peripheral vision , anxiety taken command of my consciousness , rumors of intrigue whisper softly on warm southern winds .. The physical forces in mechanical motion , condemnation of my spirit at the hour of the eruption .. My demon narcolepsy , a marionette of ploy and trickery for a student of hope standing dead on both feet .. With a red heart on your sleeve , she wears a smile well , like many a familiar door , slipping quietly from within my grasp ...

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Wake me when the Elephant Ears grow tall , when the first red rose comes to call , as the mesmerizing scent of Gardenia fills the air , when the Butterfly bushes receive their host in Spring ... Come to my door when the Crape Myrtles stand glorious , as the Peach trees blossom , when songbirds of every shape and brilliant song prepare their nurseries , as the Pink Begonias undertake their beautiful Summer journey ....

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Feb 24, 2016

Feb 24, 2016 at 9:59 PM UTC

randolph-l-wilson

Wake me when the Elephant Ears grow tall , when the first red rose comes to call , as the mesmerizing scent of Gardenia fills the air , when the Butterfly bushes receive their host in Spring ... Come to my door when the Crape Myrtles stand glorious , as the Peach trees blossom , when songbirds of every shape and brilliant song prepare their nurseries , as the Pink Begonias undertake their beautiful Summer journey ....

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Arched pillars covered in wild Ivy Moonlight seeps in through the night's garden I stand alone I'm taking in the fresh air Enjoying the elegant beauty of the night I hear your deep voice It's like silk caressing me That's when I see you standing there You smile Your blue fire eyes start to dance They're sparkling bright in the moonlight Your wavy cold black hair shines The way a raven’s feathers shine in the midst of the sun’s light Your warm hands gently brush up against my iced skin You reach for me Your lips gently press in I cannot resist I give in Then I'm kissed long and deep My knees go weak A kiss, like I've never been kissed A kiss, which I've always missed The wind's cool on my skin Yet, you heat me within Your fingertips begin to slip down my skin Your lips begin to explore They creep slowly down the crape of my neck Then gently down my back There's air everywhere I try to take it in Still, I cannot breath Stuck in an intoxicating daydream I let out a gasp That's when my dress drops beneath me You start to strum my skin As though I'm merely your musical instrument It's just you and me There's no one near If there were We still wouldn't care Caught up in our own ecstasy Our dark shadows Are casted upon the night's wall This has to be everyone's fantasy Dancing naked The feel of real skin The feel of heat so near Two become one within There's no thought of sin Just when to begin When to end When to start all over again 4-29-2011 (Friday 1:17pm) Lc

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Jul 23, 2011

Jul 23, 2011 at 11:57 AM UTC

"THE NIGHT'S GARDEN"

Arched pillars covered in wild Ivy Moonlight seeps in through the night's garden I stand alone I'm taking in the fresh air Enjoying the elegant beauty of the night I hear your deep voice It's like silk caressing me That's when I see you standing there You smile Your blue fire eyes start to dance They're sparkling bright in the moonlight Your wavy cold black hair shines The way a raven’s feathers shine in the midst of the sun’s light Your warm hands gently brush up against my iced skin You reach for me Your lips gently press in I cannot resist I give in Then I'm kissed long and deep My knees go weak A kiss, like I've never been kissed A kiss, which I've always missed The wind's cool on my skin Yet, you heat me within Your fingertips begin to slip down my skin Your lips begin to explore They creep slowly down the crape of my neck Then gently down my back There's air everywhere I try to take it in Still, I cannot breath Stuck in an intoxicating daydream I let out a gasp That's when my dress drops beneath me You start to strum my skin As though I'm merely your musical instrument It's just you and me There's no one near If there were We still wouldn't care Caught up in our own ecstasy Our dark shadows Are casted upon the night's wall This has to be everyone's fantasy Dancing naked The feel of real skin The feel of heat so near Two become one within There's no thought of sin Just when to begin When to end When to start all over again 4-29-2011 (Friday 1:17pm) Lc

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Turtles, crape myrtles Tadpoles, baby frogs Running feet, summer heat Cicadas, crossing logs Glancing back smiling Forging on to explore Oh, how i love Little you, age four

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Aug 4, 2015

Aug 4, 2015 at 12:00 AM UTC

Turtles, crape myrtles Tadpoles, baby frogs Running feet, summer heat Cicadas, crossing logs Glancing back smiling Forging on to explore Oh, how i love Little you, age four

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Acariasis Crawls me due to this homeless feeling, I seeketh flight, delight and meaning To bench me and lay me down! Acanaceous Cuts polish me uninvitingly, A blow of snot to every breeze A town with no mi amour'! Abundance Where light meets the center road, Two chalice's to meet one soul An overspilling of madpoet syndrome! Acatalectic, An allowance from god to man, A show of pictures and words with hands A reality I seeketh, Not a myth!!!

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May 29, 2015

May 29, 2015 at 10:33 AM UTC

Acariasis Crawls me due to this homeless feeling, I seeketh flight, delight and meaning To bench me and lay me down! Acanaceous Cuts polish me uninvitingly, A blow of snot to every breeze A town with no mi amour'! Abundance Where light meets the center road, Two chalice's to meet one soul An overspilling of madpoet syndrome! Acatalectic, An allowance from god to man, A show of pictures and words with hands A reality I seeketh, Not a myth!!!

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I am so sad depress in i just cant take it anymour im tired of being called names in being bullyed by outhers im a real nice i just wish people could see that i am . i love for what i fight for in i fight for what i love in yes i might think im top crape yes i might have a moth on me but its gives no one to treat me like i an nothing ' im a girl how only 13

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Apr 2, 2014

Apr 2, 2014 at 6:29 PM UTC

I am so sad depress in i just cant take it anymour im tired of being called names in being bullyed by outhers im a real nice i just wish people could see that i am . i love for what i fight for in i fight for what i love in yes i might think im top crape yes i might have a moth on me but its gives no one to treat me like i an nothing ' im a girl how only 13

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*At the collision of timothy and zoysia , where Crape Myrtles reveal their late morning luster , where luminosity and cloud continually sketch , color and reinvent open pastures , individuality forever fading , leaving sadness at the afternoon approach then gone Hours without occupation , warmth and windsong Tethered , embittered and hidden*...

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May 5, 2016

May 5, 2016 at 11:53 AM UTC

randolph-l-wilson

The Long Thursday ....

*At the collision of timothy and zoysia , where Crape Myrtles reveal their late morning luster , where luminosity and cloud continually sketch , color and reinvent open pastures , individuality forever fading , leaving sadness at the afternoon approach then gone Hours without occupation , warmth and windsong Tethered , embittered and hidden*...

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*Concoctions of morning Blackstrap Molasses , Apple blossom honey Afternoon Sugar Cane treat Sundays Catfish feeder pond thrills Stirring Bobwhite Quail wood line hideaways Plentiful , native green grass runways Kerosene lanterns , john boats o'er - Black Crappie midnight waters A thousand new songs rippled the moonlight - causeways Lakes melting into night The warm , thick air of first light Mockingbird chirrup , Killdeer call August morning star convocations of - Crape Myrtle with butterfly epiphanies*

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Aug 29, 2016

Aug 29, 2016 at 11:37 PM UTC

randolph-l-wilson

*Concoctions of morning Blackstrap Molasses , Apple blossom honey Afternoon Sugar Cane treat Sundays Catfish feeder pond thrills Stirring Bobwhite Quail wood line hideaways Plentiful , native green grass runways Kerosene lanterns , john boats o'er - Black Crappie midnight waters A thousand new songs rippled the moonlight - causeways Lakes melting into night The warm , thick air of first light Mockingbird chirrup , Killdeer call August morning star convocations of - Crape Myrtle with butterfly epiphanies*

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Patricia pancake maker Passing your store day after day and watching you as you make Patricia Pancakes caressing the batter as you do and making all the crape things you do Patricia I just can not tell you!

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Aug 8, 2014

Aug 8, 2014 at 4:05 PM UTC

Patricia pancake maker Passing your store day after day and watching you as you make Patricia Pancakes caressing the batter as you do and making all the crape things you do Patricia I just can not tell you!

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*One of these days I'll become a Jay I'll bathe in Port Lake everyday I'll command the fencerow with early morning original song Feed on blackberries and pine nuts the whole day long I'll nap in Live Oaks whenever I wish I'll turn Crape Myrtles into my evening niche* ...

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Nov 28, 2016

Nov 28, 2016 at 6:48 PM UTC

randolph-l-wilson

Blue Wonders ....

*One of these days I'll become a Jay I'll bathe in Port Lake everyday I'll command the fencerow with early morning original song Feed on blackberries and pine nuts the whole day long I'll nap in Live Oaks whenever I wish I'll turn Crape Myrtles into my evening niche* ...

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Briar vines merely scratched the itch for more , porcelain fingers tattooed wine red Morning rays become possessed , muting - early day laughter and fervent desires Humid air thickened with pine , wild grass , -fertile humus , clay and wisteria Stirring the brown locust , bluebird , thrasher , Guinea wasp , blue skink , toad and cottontail Three ripe berries in the jar , one for the forager , one for the eve , one for the morrow Traipsing gravel byways to the music of the rattling corn , ****** broomsage and the iron harrow A whitewashed homestead wrapped in oak , mulberry , sycamore and crape myrtle , Songbirds of every shape and melodious - occupation , alert geese crying from the - hedgerows , waves of sorghum dancing in the - shaded meadows ...

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Mar 3, 2018

Mar 3, 2018 at 1:48 AM UTC

randolph-l-wilson

The Blackberry Hunt ...

Briar vines merely scratched the itch for more , porcelain fingers tattooed wine red Morning rays become possessed , muting - early day laughter and fervent desires Humid air thickened with pine , wild grass , -fertile humus , clay and wisteria Stirring the brown locust , bluebird , thrasher , Guinea wasp , blue skink , toad and cottontail Three ripe berries in the jar , one for the forager , one for the eve , one for the morrow Traipsing gravel byways to the music of the rattling corn , ****** broomsage and the iron harrow A whitewashed homestead wrapped in oak , mulberry , sycamore and crape myrtle , Songbirds of every shape and melodious - occupation , alert geese crying from the - hedgerows , waves of sorghum dancing in the - shaded meadows ...

Continue reading...