"greenest" poems
You were a different version of the religion,
you were a ****** of the region when we met.
I had the brownest eyes. You had the greenest eyes.
chin sits perfectly in shoulder,
hand fits in hand, molded.
I had hair like a little girl's. You had hair like a little boy's.
Both half ****** my arms were as thin as yours, and toned.
You didn't own a single curve, just edges and bone.
Only your lips were soft. Only my lips were soft.
The fading light bounced off the angles of my abdomen and visible ribcage,
made your mouth water. With a shy,
curling finger,
you called me over to you.
It drove me wilder.
We undressed each other under the covers.
You giggled and I crumbled when you saw
I needed help with the clasp of your bra.
I chuckled, returned the favor when you gave up on my belt buckle.
I had the body of a little girl. You had the body of a little boy.
The sheets wound around and pressed us together,
You had the hardest hips. I had the hardest hips.
You compromised what was inside your mind;
I felt those first few moans rattle your
visible ribcage and escape through lips pursed
like a porcelain doll.
Took it all in, held on to your fragile frame
and from the moment we were free,
two children in the wilderness.
Dec 27, 2010
Dec 27, 2010 at 8:00 AM UTC
The pathway to the hidden falls,
greenest trees and ivy walls,
Humid day and rain a threat,
Forest living, thick and wet.
Pebbles on this path to be,
Never ending, fast to me.
Flip flops make an obstacle,
For me to keep the pace we go.
The peach in hand is almost eaten,
When roaring waters reveal this Eden,
The water falls so quick approaching
seems to stick my memory's poaching.
We climb the uphill train of rocks,
more like boulders, need for socks,
Majesty miracle's tickle my senses,
Like watching babe ruth swing for the fences.
Something here is overpowering
behind the force field something is flowering,
Wet smooth rocks lay geometric,
something alive and something electric.
Native American premonitions,
Thoughts of the beginning of all of this swishin',
Waterfall dreams sparkle like diamonds,
Foam and water, slippery minded.
Brain chemical explosion.
Somethings been bound.
Something is gone
something I found
Burned in my imagination
is this place that I visited
on my vacation.
Jun 21, 2015
Jun 21, 2015 at 10:35 AM UTC
Welcome the new day
As night lifted her screen
The sun had brought its palette
Boasting of colours never before I've seen
Rays like paintbrushes
As they dove into the water
Light explosively burst into emeralds
Ripple and eddies would sparkle and shimmer
Bolts from the orange orb
Speared the tops of trees and sprawling ground
Tinting their leaves with green of olives
And grass with freshness abound
Its wand touched the tip of the distant lighthouse
Turning it the brightest green
It brought life back to my surrounding
Layered my eyes with the greenest of sheens
Such beauty laid bare
The difference was literally night and day
But my heart is also green
To readily accept what my mind has to say
As if a child
Or yet still a greenhorn
I should ignore the stains of yellow
And enjoy this new day that had just been born
Apr 5, 2015
Apr 5, 2015 at 11:35 AM UTC
*I searched
the deepest depths
of the vastest oceans,
I searched way up high,
past the clouds,
in the bluest of blue skies,
I searched
deep in the hearts
of nature's greenest forests...
It turns out,
that I was carrying it within me
all along - only now, do I realise.
By Lady R.F ©2016*
Oct 6, 2016
Oct 6, 2016 at 4:46 PM UTC
SPRING
I slowly unfurl to the World
Stretching up to the sky blue
And sense an early morning chill
Of Spring waking me anew.
Each day grows a little warmer
As daylight hours extend
Making this leaf feel fresher,
Tothe bright sunlight I bend.
SUMMER
I’m at my most greenest now,
Hot sun burns upon my veins;
How glad am I to finally enjoy
Those cooling, copious rains.
At which point, I pour in drips,
A refreshing, rousing trickle
That falls on grass and buttercup
Teasing them with a tickle.
AUTUMN
Mists have now arrived, enshrouding
My form with heavy dew;
The greens has all but leached away,
Bled from veins no longer new.
Down below the tree are vivid reds
Browns and translucent golds
Which, increasingly each day now
People their captivation holds.
WINTER
The first frost of Winter
And a biting, northerly breeze
Cut into me,and scores of others
Were torn from their trees.
I’ve fallen now, to the ground
All wrinkled, and utterly fragile
Awaiting my final hour
Until, I meet my funeral pile…
Jan 20, 2012
Jan 20, 2012 at 1:50 AM UTC
“where time is the fly and age the fisher of men”
<>
*”until I fell forward
into fall where time is
the fly and age the fisher
of men, then when winter
begins all will be forgotten,
where time is the fly and
age the fisher of men”*
excerpt from “The Fall” by Rick Richardson
<>
that words from a different ionic state, jump as embodied ions from screen to the throat, evicting a guttural current of exclamation, you believe even with the half-heartedly palpitations from remainder of my damaged pumping heart, that these words were always intended, just for me…
boy and old man coexist, the pottage of memories stirred,
and the time is fly, and I drown in the miracle of greenest grass of
Yankee Stadium at age eight,
oasis, heaven, a child reborn in a sea of Bronx concrete,
and the swallowing up of my boyhood is forever marked henceforth, the hook has caught me, and I am of the age
once and forever
not a fisherman, but a fisher of men’s souls,
mine own is my best bait,
hooked line and sinker, and
wisdom and words
elude and delude always,
like summer is perpetual and aging a construct,
time does not fly, but slowly laps and waves
eroding our myths and ourselves upon a continuum with
no ends
~postscript~
<>
*yet I believe,
in miracles of
fish and loaves,
and that our individual continuums
will exist beyond the artifice of constraints
of
mortal time and that poems are
the forever chemicals within
our
bloodstreams,
even when our blood no longer spills*
yet I believe!
Sep 6, 2023
Sep 6, 2023 at 7:57 AM UTC
Her name is Halima
And she leans from her window
In her hijab that covers her hair
Halima don't spit on the people below
Her mama laughs - My Halima!
But that's her little daughter
And she knows when Halima spits -
It's - the purest rose water
Halima's hijab is of the greenest green
That covers her chestnut hair
With the handprint of a man
Large and brown embroidered there
And her long white dress embroidered
With buds and leaves and thorny stems
And secret roots and blooms of roses
In her house above the Thames
Halima don't spit! Her mama chides
But the people sailing by
Think the air is filled with roses
So they smile and they sigh
As Halima in her hijab
With the handprint of a man
Turns the ***** river to rose water
As only Halima can ...
Mar 12, 2014
Mar 12, 2014 at 11:26 AM UTC
In the greenest of our valleys
By good angels tenanted,
Once a fair and stately palace—
Radiant palace—reared its head.
In the monarch Thought’s dominion—
It stood there!
Never seraph spread a pinion
Over fabric half so fair!
Banners yellow, glorious, golden,
On its roof did float and flow,
(This—all this—was in the olden
Time long ago),
And every gentle air that dallied,
In that sweet day,
Along the ramparts plumed and pallid,
A winged odor went away.
Wanderers in that happy valley,
Through two luminous windows, saw
Spirits moving musically,
To a lute’s well-tuned law,
Bound about a throne where, sitting
(Porphyrogene!)
In state his glory well befitting,
The ruler of the realm was seen.
And all with pearl and ruby glowing
Was the fair palace door,
Through which came flowing, flowing, flowing,
And sparkling evermore,
A troop of Echoes, whose sweet duty
Was but to sing,
In voices of surpassing beauty,
The wit and wisdom of their king.
But evil things, in robes of sorrow,
Assailed the monarch’s high estate.
(Ah, let us mourn!—for never morrow
Shall dawn upon him desolate !)
And round about his home the glory
That blushed and bloomed,
Is but a dim-remembered story
Of the old time entombed.
And travellers, now, within that valley,
Through the red-litten windows see
Vast forms, that move fantastically
To a discordant melody,
While, like a ghastly rapid river,
Through the pale door
A hideous throng rush out forever
And laugh—but smile no more.
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The clock strikes, the hour shines
A warm rain brings fruit to the vine
An evening cool, a freshness divine
The sweetest grapes, the finest wine
In this hour, time churns
Life breaths, an ember burns
And ever still, the earth turns
As a glowing moon crosses the sky
Waves crash to shore, minutes grow dim
A cool wind directs a flowing hymn
A mornings warmth, a sparkling gem
The reddest rose, yet the greenest stem
But in this hour, time dissuades
Life chokes, the ember fades
And ever still, the earth waits
Until a garish sun crosses the sky
~D.B. Guy ( December 14, 2008 )
Nov 3, 2012
Nov 3, 2012 at 2:27 AM UTC
Cascades of red in Hedgehog Houle
The beginning of Autumn falls over
And breaks the greenest in morning
We pass the church arched doorway
And the hawthorn berries brightest.
Walking the steady step in this day
Finding the bend the windy winds
Show me little Alfie in his nestling
For love carries everything trusting
This pathway of flowing memories.
Love Mary **
Oct 15, 2018
Oct 15, 2018 at 8:34 AM UTC
Long hikes and motorbikes,
Cabins, starlight, kids and tykes,
Parents, and mommies soon to be,
Gather at the greenest tree.
Spirits in ******* are unbound,
Where the silence drowns the sound;
The victories that love has won.
We are never far when we are one.
Sep 13, 2015
Sep 13, 2015 at 12:33 AM UTC
I want summer like I want you, constantly. I’m tired of cold that snatches my breath and hope. I want the trees to regain their decency and cover their bare limbs. Wearing the greenest fullest blouses. I want the grass to grow. Thunder to roll and rain to fall. I want fat drops to bounce of the pavement, to wash my face and hair.
I want the sun to bath my skin in beauty, making it glow with warmth. I want dresses and shorts and skirts. I want brown legs and flip-flops. I want turquoise pools and florescent swimsuits.
I’m sick of cold fingers and toes. I’m tired of heaters and blankets. I want to roll down the windows. I want sweat on my back and only sheets on my bed. I’d love warm nights, drinking sweet tea, and making love beneath the stars. I wish for glowing street lights and lake nights. I want to sit in the windows of cars at sonic.
I want barbeque sunflower seeds and the fourth of July.
I want field parties with only beer and red bull, and only bonfires to see by. I want fireflies and chigger bites. Lemonade out of mason jars.
I miss cotton, and sandals. I miss volleyball, ***** feet, and ponytails. But what I miss most about summer is freedom. Those summer night driving under an endless sky of stars.
Aug 17, 2010
Aug 17, 2010 at 11:54 AM UTC
I've drank the finest of wine
Down to the bottom of the bottle
Only to witness an ocean alone
Barely surviving my own hands
A fire burned through my viens
That was blew out by the wind
Breezing through the leaves
A calmness that sits with me
Before calmness dismisses me
I walked across the tallest blue sky
Where wide winged birds soar high
Til promises of white clouds turn grey
And so there I fell with the rain
Dripping through the lowest gutter
Many times I was buried, lying in dirt
Like a grave, needing no help
Finding the dark inside of myself
But I always rise with the blades
Of the greenest fresh spring grass
No matter what feeling I catch
None of them seem to everlast
Feb 18, 2020
Feb 18, 2020 at 9:47 AM UTC
Move me
Fast through the winding roads
The tumbling winds
The deepest valleys
And the highest peaks
Settle me nowhere
Move me
Across fields of gold
Azure skies
And silver linings
Because no one
Drew a line I would not cross
Settle me nowhere
Move me
Pick me up and throw me
Over the sleeping bodies of water
And the restless hearts of the sands
I am closing my eyes now
Settle me nowhere
Move me
Weave me
Within the greenest trees
Tousle my hair
When the ride gets too calm
Settle me nowhere
Move me
Let the skyscrapers scrape sky
Let the towers tower
Let the roads twist and turn
And let houses be houses
Because I am not far from my own
Settle me nowhere
Until the rain patters
And the beach plays with sand-less shores
Settle
Me
Nowhere
Until I am home
Jul 10, 2014
Jul 10, 2014 at 3:06 PM UTC
In the greenest meadow,
With the clearest stream,
And the bluest sky,
There lived a lion.
His mane golden and his teeth white.
He had not yet tasted the flesh of deer.
On the other side of the meadow,
There lived a doe.
Her fur was a silken brown.
She knew not of lions.
The lion saw the doe, and was in awe.
She was clean, she was beautiful.
He wanted a taste.
He spoke to her in low, calming tones.
Speaking to her lovely lies.
He said he craved a taste of her flesh.
She fell for the lion.
The doe wanted to please the lion.
She offered him a taste.
So he tasted.
But the lion couldn't control his hunger.
He tore at her flesh.
Wounding the deer.
The green grass turned red.
The sky grew dark.
When he had enough, he got up.
He looked at her.
He growled, he hissed, he walked away.
He wanted no blame for his own doing.
The doe nursed her wounds.
And the water turned red.
She grew strong again.
Washed clean by the stream.
The grass green again.
The sky blue.
But her scars remained.
The silken fur turned ragged.
The doe had a friend.
One with much shinier fur.
One more beautiful than she had been.
One that was unable to stand on her own.
Her friend was weak.
Weary from running.
She also did not know of lions.
The doe told her of the lion.
Showed her the scars.
Her friend saw, and hated the lion.
Or so she said.
The sky grew dark again.
The lion came back.
His mane with deep red in it.
His teeth bloodstained.
The doe was wary.
The doe knew he was flesh-hungry.
Her scars ached.
And she knew.
Her friend was in danger.
Mar 13, 2013
Mar 13, 2013 at 3:21 PM UTC
I hid my love when young till I
Couldn’t bear the buzzing of a fly;
I hid my love to my despite
Till I could not bear to look at light:
I dare not gaze upon her face
But left her memory in each place;
Where’er I saw a wild flower lie
I kissed and bade my love good-bye.
I met her in the greenest dells,
Where dewdrops pearl the wood bluebells;
The lost breeze kissed her bright blue eye,
The bee kissed and went singing by,
A sunbeam found a passage there,
A gold chain round her neck so fair;
As secret as the wild bee’s song
She lay there all the summer long.
I hid my love in field and town
Till e’en the breeze would knock me down;
The bees seemed singing ballads o’er,
The fly’s bass turned a lion’s roar;
And even silence found a tongue,
To haunt me all the summer long;
The riddle nature could not prove
Was nothing else but secret love.
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I walk through the groves and the singing treetops
silence enrobing every sound, in these places where
people lay still living, under the ground,
for here the grass grows the greenest
and the trees all stand tall, yes
they are gone, but they did not long fall.
Apr 21, 2015
Apr 21, 2015 at 9:23 AM UTC
Long back once
I was a God
I painted some lovely birds
on the greenest trees
which stood by the most beautiful river
that had vivacious flowers
all along its grassy banks
I brought all this to life
people saw all of it and admired
then they thought it'd be
the sweetest, purest water
and they built a bottling plant by riverside
as if their thirst was deep rather than large
they plucked flowers and adorned houses
as if their paints were not bright enough,
they brought flowers to weddings and parties too
as if the mood and purpose were never up to mark,
they caught the birds and put them into cages
as if their free wings made people resent own servitude
they cut down trees to make skyscrapers
as if their life spans were ever eternal
and when they distorted whatever was all my hard work
they came with gloated hearts to temples and churches
they sang glorious hymns and offered construed prayers,
and in almost a state of self-praise they told me how noble I was
for I endowed them with capabilities none could ever fathom
Oct 15, 2012
Oct 15, 2012 at 4:04 AM UTC
Oh California!
How my heart burns for you,
how beautiful you are!
The greenest trees and the most picturesque beaches.
The soft sands of the desert,
and the rolling slopes of the foothills.
My body, my mind, my spirit, all belong to you, oh Great and Wonderful! California.
Your hills are on fire,
scarring the beauty of your curves.
Your rivers run dry,
suffocating the green into brown.
How my heart cries for you! Oh dry, oh burning, oh how relentless this war against you, oh California! And there is no relief in sight, winter promises no respite, and the summer will be long and tough and dry like the ones before and before and before.
Oh California!
How I tremble, how I shake in awe,
your sun burns a bright orange,
smoke fills your sunsets,
even fire cannot detract from your beauty!
Oh cleansing rains!
Oh cleansing El Niño!
Oh how I beg you to save California!
My California!
My roots go deeper than that of the greatest redwood, California is my home, and not the most fearsome of fires could cause me to leave, not the fiercest and most ruthless of droughts could scare me away!
Oh California!
Let my tears be absorbed by your thirsty soil!
Let my body one day feed your hungry crops!
Oh California! I am yours, to the very last.
God bless California!
God bless the desert and the mountains!
God bless the foothills and the valleys!
God bless the beaches and the forests!
God bless my home and spare it from the relentless.
California is my God, and I hope she hears my prayers!
Sep 17, 2015
Sep 17, 2015 at 11:02 PM UTC
I love the yellow sun,
the blue morning's sky,
the countless colorful birds,
quickly flying by.....
I love the radiating warmth,
that kisses my smooth skin,
tingles my tender heart,
always makes me sing.....
I love the aqua ocean who's playful waves
dance across the horizon,
on brilliant sunny days......
I love the shadows that settle into night,
that bring a cool quiet, as I gaze upon
the starry. starlit night........
I love the silver moon,
its smiling face afar
which I could only wish to touch
assuring him,
I'm never very far......
I love the pouring rain,
whether it be cool, or warm,
for it feeds the heavenly flowers
that line the greenest lawns......
Finally,
all I can ever say,
is that I love this world so true,
for its beauty,
its life,
its inclusion,
of someone as sweet
as You!!!!
Aug 1, 2011
Aug 1, 2011 at 8:29 AM UTC
energy surging,
heat begetting heat
expands to dark expanse to cool and brew what slow restocking weight
with white supernal flare between
around an equipoise of center you imagined as you write
and what non-being-being residing in beneath the deep?
inspired by the question-thought embracing
death beyond what death to value life a blissful state
in even darkest reaches found
the pain a sundered gate of joy you capture with poetic greeting ploy,
that coin is split to join opposing worlds
as when blind Shiva blinded world
unbridled lust arrayed from hut to hut
obliging them his ***** to rip
but then extinguishing their rant
to foster pleading for the dance again
collecting yoga as viyoga
in samanvaya chiaroscuro maya-vidya
or adept on cosmic player focus
hate-trancendent into vast eternal love
which even Luke (14:26) dropped lovely clue to
un conditioned by contingent fondness
for what myth of real play
we stage together evermore
to frolic in the uncut hair of graves
(greenest grass to know what past)
whose leavings are for future sunrise lush to celebrate another self envisioned
in another set of singing eyes
the literal, empty, formless mien
a synthesized good-bye recursion rush
.
Nov 9, 2012
Nov 9, 2012 at 9:23 PM UTC
So valiantly did he die upon a little hill
Of greenest grass and under sweetest air,
And he died grinning for his unfailing will,
And for what eternal glory met him there-
And his courageous heroism will be told
In song by each new coming generation
Who still sing those fighting songs of old
Within our proud and glorious nation-
What true sacrifice and supreme nobility
Lies in he who serves our shining vision
Where everyone else can grow up to be
Just like him, perhaps be on television-
Because he believed in his bleeding heart
What it means to die for where you live,
If he had one regret, and was let to restart-
It'd be that he hadn't another life to give.
Dec 4, 2018
Dec 4, 2018 at 11:04 AM UTC
.
A thatched and wicker basket-nest
Cradles a cluster bright and new
And delicate and coolly blue,
With speckled royal freckles blessed.
The cherry blossoms pink the trees.
A snowy fall of tiny white
And quickly flipping petals light
Into an errant summer breeze.
Diffusely, prodigally blows
A heavy opiate-like scent,—
The lilac's prized accomplishment,—
The greenest envy of the rose.
And everywhere I idly walk
I see, in all the lightened notes
And whited tones and frosted coats,
The springtide paints that mix with chalk.
^ ^
Feb 23, 2015
Feb 23, 2015 at 5:28 PM UTC
I saw her crop a rose
Right early in the day,
And I went to kiss the place
Where she broke the rose away
And I saw the patten rings
Where she o’er the stile had gone,
And I love all other things
Her bright eyes look upon.
If she looks upon the hedge or up the leafing tree,
The whitethorn or the brown oak are made dearer things to me.
I have a pleasant hill
Which I sit upon for hours,
Where she cropt some sprigs of thyme
And other little flowers;
And she muttered as she did it
As does beauty in a dream,
And I loved her when she hid it
On her breast, so like to cream,
Near the brown mole on her neck that to me a diamond shone;
Then my eye was like to fire, and my heart was like to stone.
There is a small green place
Where cowslips early curled,
Which on Sabbath day I traced,
The dearest in the world.
A little oak spreads o’er it,
And throws a shadow round,
A green sward close before it,
The greenest ever found:
There is not a woodland nigh nor is there a green grove,
Yet stood the fair maid nigh me and told me all her love.
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