"greening" poems
Mother Earth quakes
Absorbing heavens' tears
Like crystals on her greening robes
Her heart aches
She knows our fears
Within her are endless globes
Apr 22, 2017
Apr 22, 2017 at 9:02 PM UTC
In sunshine or in shadow how rich the loamy soil
light of earth, dream of rebirth greening
lilac buds and bluebells ring
magenta hills, aubretia spring
of burning fire
A mossy path of violets, soft my feet to wander
muscari blue the garden dew
birds to drink of leafy puddles
bluest skies go grey, drifts so swift a rain cloud by
to water quick the daffodil, silk umbrellas yellow
and comes alas the greening grass
robins hopping, weaving
Spring unfurls in flowery births
tiny violets upon the earth
Aug 13, 2013
Aug 13, 2013 at 12:41 AM UTC
the hills were beginning to grow
the grass greening on the approach
to Blue Earth, and how
in summer
Minnesota shed her old coat
to shy guilty into brief silty lakes
like the
joy of a little kid, sneaking a forbidden dip.
remarking, casually, about
white warm flowers hung low from
planned oaks, and the impossible way the town
pulled local hills close, to coat
in dandelions. and cultivate
all under an ambitious midwestern sun.
rolling through the stop sign, hand on mine
you told me if you’re moving at all
you should keep it in second gear.
and we had so far to go, but in the light that
broke through westbound clouds,
we became less so.
contented to spread toes out in earth we
dug into Minnesota, the middle coast:
a land we could like to get to know.
and you:
looking down at the salt, the sand, the scars of
the grand american plantation:
the last coast.
knowing that by the next coast, we
you and me.
we'd be through.
saying, ‘how could anybody die?’
saying,
‘how could anybody tell you anything true?’
undercut by the honest waves of the little lake,
the hum that drummed in my gas tank.
trying, for once, at a little piece of truth:
when I leave this place I leave
a part of me behind.
and that part of me
will be you.
saying there’s only so much sweetness in the soil,
only so long after the thaw,
and grief is rich and dark and made for sowing:
must be, for maintaining verdant local hills, must be
for to keep corn sweet. must be for to put
grief
on the table. must be for to
keep with us.
for to keep a little bit to eat.
saying, we bleed but together we make a hole
to bury both our bodies in.
saying there’s a west out west but too late it’s
already hemmed us in.
saying now I am only a fragile assimilation of this weak
and fractured purpose that drives me, and you are
beautiful enough I would lie to let you love me.
even I would scorch this soil if only things wouldn’t grow I would
saying Blue Earth is still in the trucker's atlas is
only an excuse for sunshine. a point,
where freeways go.
saying,
“with earth, so green, that here they call it 'Blue'.”
saying
“I could learn to love a leopard.”
saying
“how dare you.”
Jan 18, 2014
Jan 18, 2014 at 7:20 AM UTC
sensing you, i stood myself tall
i stayed and i grew
ten thousand tiny legs or more—
each root foot set upon your shoulders
lifted me among constellation stars
home i had never left,
not you
thank you ancestors thank you
for your neighborly attentions
sound vibrations spiral strung --
God’s first word, first and second
generation sun, a greening earth,
until everywhere shaping intelligence
this my body finally here
steady and true as weighed stone,
unjudging love is
what you have come to teach me
that i could choose to die to fear
and die to death itself
Jun 11, 2016
Jun 11, 2016 at 7:48 AM UTC
delicately, our dragonfly conversations
dance in Japanese gardens,
where jewelled concrete pagoda’s
stand stilted, like
timeless geometries, in greening water
then wind rustles timidly through
creek beds and pebbled leaves;
bells ring like wine glasses at a dinner table
and we feel our arm hairs stand on tiptoes,
pricked up to weary voices
(chanting monks, those that sit in circles
monkishly chant, in unison
“there are three meanings of loneliness”)
here, chanting also, we
find ourselves again not alone
enchanted in the fragmented daylight.
but then again, I turn, apathetically, and declare
“let us rest
in the immense imagery of our imagination
for it is easier to sleep,
as rain creeps closer to our doorstep,
than to ***** barricades, levies
and trenches around our house”
Oh, but the way the light reflects upon the Japanese trees
is so splendidly delicate,
and our delicate conversations
feel all so perfect…
so now please, time, lose me
in your whisper.
Jan 28, 2013
Jan 28, 2013 at 3:28 AM UTC
Wild geraniums collected
in pocket, red painted petal stains
my feet squish, squash in this forest
the earthy mud a mossy sponge
with fern and lichen the trees are hung
upon the ground greening with maidenhair fern
my satchel filled with dainty floral sprigs
in spring the sparrows gathering vine and twig
June's an efflorescent carpeting, soft with lady slippers
in summer the wildflowers and grasses wed
when celebrates all the flying things
wooded bees and butterflies in the sun
sparkling with faceted, glistening wings.
Jun 22, 2016
Jun 22, 2016 at 12:51 PM UTC
green forest child
you grow in sponge drenched soils
drawing me in - an epiphyte longing
sunlight piercing raindrops
of lettuce lichens drinking
mosses soaked, greening
softly underfoot
Jan 2, 2014
Jan 2, 2014 at 5:11 PM UTC
Maple tree
giant skyward leaning
Dropping leaves
do you dream, long of summer's greening?
Your sunshine days,
the gray rains sway,
wintery cold
Once long ago
a tiny seedling
planted
Sep 28, 2012
Sep 28, 2012 at 11:33 AM UTC
Playing her parchment moon
Precosia comes
along a watery path of laurels and crystal lights.
The starless silence, fleeing
from her rhythmic tambourine,
falls where the sea whips and sings,
his night filled with silvery swarms.
High atop the mountain peaks
the sentinels are weeping;
they guard the tall white towers
of the English consulate.
And gypsies of the water
for their pleasure *****
little castles of conch shells
and arbors of greening pine.
Playing her parchment moon
Precosia comes.
The wind sees her and rises,
the wind that never slumbers.
Naked Saint Christopher swells,
watching the girl as he plays
with tongues of celestial bells
on an invisible bagpipe.
Gypsy, let me lift your skift
and have a look at you.
Open in my ancient fingers
the blue rose of your womb.
Precosia throws the tambourine
and runs away in terror.
But the virile wind pursues her
with his breahing and burning sword.
The sea darkens and roars,
while the olive trees turn pale.
The flutes of darkness sound,
and a muted gong of the snow.
Precosia, run, Precosia!
Of the green wind will catch you!
Precosia, run, Precosia!
And look how fast he comes!
A satyr of low-born stars
with their long and glistening tongues.
Precosia, filled with fear
now makes her way to that house
beyond the tall green pines
where the English consul lives.
Alarmed by the anguished cries,
three riflemen come running,
their black capes tightly drawn,
and berets down over their brow.
The Englishman gives the gypsy
a glass of tepid milk
and a shot of Holland gin
which Precosia does not drink.
And while she tells them, weeping,
of her strange adventure,
the wind furiously gnashes
against the slate roof tiles.
2k
The room was clouded with wisps of smoke, the smell of cheep tobacco mixing with the foul fetter of Budweiser's.
Heavy boots crowded the compact living room, some pacing on the floor, others resting on stools, and one certain pair standing on the couch. As the evening waned, their owners smoked and drank and composed.
The fan droned on above the huddle of men, attempting to counter-act the thick, humid air and suffocating clouds of smoke.
Likewise, the window hung open, a slight breeze entering in, attempting to remind the men that outside there was spring. However, not even the sweet smell of growing grass and greening pine trees could awaken the thinking mass of musicians.
Under the soft whirring of the fan hummed a gentle strum of acoustic guitars, two were in sync, one was free to do what he pleased.
At first the song was melancholy, an almost sickening minor protruding through the chords.
However, the two guitars which played this mournful tune were soon over-ruled by the lone guitar, this guitar introducing an almost ****** tune, sweet with lively colors, walks in the park; moody with aromatic evenings spent in wild-flower fields and peaceful nights sitting by the river, fishing and playing Texas Hold'em for pennies.
This strum of chords soon awakened the other musicians and as their ears perked up to the sound their eyes fell upon the man, the man with the boots that stood on the couch.
As the groups' gaze circled onto the man, he finished with a lulling C sharp minor and pulled the smoldering cigarette from his mouth, cocking his head towards the men and smirking ever so slightly as he proclaimed in his proud, deep, southern accent, an eyebrow raising to mark their heedfulness, "And there, gentlemen, is true music."
Dec 6, 2014
Dec 6, 2014 at 12:02 PM UTC
My little plant
I tend to you every day
I give you some sun
I pour in some water
But I do not ask for fruit
Fruit was never the purpose
The very process of you living
greening glimmering growing
In my soul
Is happiness
Pure unadulterated happiness.
Sep 8, 2018
Sep 8, 2018 at 5:25 PM UTC
Stepping stones
wet twigs mossy overgrown
footfalls, rain washing the greening path home
grassy droplets, little trickles running
puddles fill the pothole road
clouds break, parting dusk of day
tiny violets sunning
Mar 27, 2013
Mar 27, 2013 at 12:48 AM UTC
While I gaze in your eyes, cool cerulean blue,
Sifting night, straining stars through morning’s sweet dew,
I can fathom the depths of empyreal skies,
Angels fluttering by, riding wild butterflies
While I gaze in your eyes, changing, aqua-blue greening,
I’m ****** into chasms, cascading, careening,
And yield to enticements which meekly disarm,
Seeping virtuous beauty, sad sensuous charm
While I gaze in your eyes, bleeding fiery blue
Ever tempting with treasures, with pleasures for two,
Being caught at the core of a blazing sapphire
Possessing, enthralling, aflame with desire
While I gaze in your eyes, misty emeralds, deep green,
Veiling laughter and banter, and echoes between,
Then I dream, so it seems, in whatever the place,
Of your scent, of your breath, of your radiant face
While I gaze in your eyes, at times placidly blue,
Near’ as calm as the weirs in the woods all bedewed,
Forty winks relegate to a shimmering lake,
Gently floating on lilies, while waiting to wake
While I gaze in your eyes, caught engulfed in the greens
And consigning my fate unto verdant ravines,
My reactions, at length, become shyer and shyer
Reminiscent of ravens at risk in the briar
While I gaze in your eyes, restless, hesitant blues
Overwhelming sensations with turbulent hues,
I’m succumbing to waves of a storm battered sea,
Being cast like a plank, never meant to be free
While I gaze in your eyes, shadowed, Midnight Lake green
Glowing hazy with dreams, misty thoughts so serene,
Sudden silence befalls me, a fast sinking stone,
Looming lost in your eyes, I am never alone
While I gaze in your eyes, saddened, lachrymal blue,
Spilling trickles of rain, pearls obscuring your view,
I’ll attend to your anguish and feelings morose,
Lightly kissing your tears, touching, holding you close
While I gaze in your eyes, pulsing infinite green
Of the earth and of heaven and all in between,
It is simple to see that my hands can hold all
Of the treasures I find which so humbly enthral
While I gaze in your eyes, when they’re bountifully blue,
I’m reminded, love’s lightning is granted to few...
While I gaze in your eyes, when they’re blindingly green,
I’m reminded, love’s lightning cannot be foreseen...
Yet I hope... and I wait...
Mar 9, 2013
Mar 9, 2013 at 6:26 PM UTC
Someone's speaking in the kitchen,
though I know I'm on my own.
It's no ordinary sound of house.
We do not usually converse.
Its chatter is perverse,
so dialogue leads to friction,
when it nags me into cleaning,
while competing for attention
with the garden, growing, greening.
Like twins they twist my tolerance.
That speaker's spoiled my thinking,
so easy to displace,
but I'll stop his broadcast bleating
and tune to inner space.
Jun 24, 2015
Jun 24, 2015 at 2:20 PM UTC
The rain it pooled deep within the leaf, the hollow
and drank there - insect, vole and swallow
along a mud and marshy path, my feet for to follow
and tread upon the lichen moss, I sank softly greening
watching all the day, the trickling of the woodland trees
the light that breathed there glistening.
Dec 14, 2015
Dec 14, 2015 at 9:40 AM UTC
Watercolor crimson skies
bleed indigo blue pastel lines
waterfall rains spill over
Yellowy blues sink viridian green
paper clouds bloom fire
a sunrise to devour
She is a sable brush
born of resurrected ashes
sifting her soul in colors
Hillsides greening, looking out
a painter of days and ruins
Jul 13, 2012
Jul 13, 2012 at 11:36 AM UTC
Who shall remain to speak of Eden sleeping?
When gone the earth, our splendid garden
left of backward dreaming
and all the glorious twisty tendril reaches
vines to cling to life, anew the greening seasons
Alone the fields in September shades, grains
of wheat and rye will not play, of fall's refraining
or sing the cat birds strange meowing
Once rows and rows, the fields flowed,
fed heavenly our daily bread
before the GMOs
Unearthly - sick the flocks afield
no bees about, the headless flowering yields
all the gifts, the seeds of life cannot be found again
we've decimated Eden
http://www.greenmedinfo.com/blog/dows-deadly-harvest-return-agent-orange
There's hope:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6P03nNeYiJo&feature;=related
Sep 18, 2012
Sep 18, 2012 at 10:13 PM UTC
When the earth in Spring
and all the yellows are nearly green
exploding ripe the catkin maple seeds
hung for flitting sparrows
When swift the clouds
dark, with pelting rain
of droplets wet pooling
in the hollows
As the clouds give way to sun
move hurriedly to fill the day with light
there where tiny budding leaves
are greening in the shadows
Apr 15, 2013
Apr 15, 2013 at 9:45 AM UTC
This was written in the dark.
Whispered in the night.
It was wished upon a rising sun,
Released in morning light.
Less a poem than a prayer,
A whimper more than scream.
Born as naked hope and watered,
Grown from faint idea to dream.
Now the sound of summer coming;
Breezes rustling greening leaves,
Leaves us knowing things as growing,
Be it flowers, crops or trees.
Painless birth from earth to air,
Summer; springtime's daughter
Laughs and sings to sunkissed things,
Wet with broken water.
Jun 5, 2015
Jun 5, 2015 at 8:20 AM UTC
Sun's going down...
Around my miniature height,
Gloom is gathering itself
To usher in the night.
Beside the darkening feet
Of towering trees,
Shade-cooled and looking up,
I see sunlight climb
The upward reaches
Of tall pines.
Leaving shadows far below,
Green needled branches
****** new growth:
Yellow-candled greening flames,
To see the sun,
Greeting and adieu-ing
Steady moving days.
Light and life,
Ageless quests:
Upward reaching light
Downward breaching water,
Insatiable thrusting,
Splitting stone,
Spewing oxygen.
Monstrous undertakings
Glorious oversights.
Fitting past times for giants,
Mountain dwellers,
Living at a pace too slow
For careless passers-by to see.
Silent pines
Contemplate endless days,
Moving or un-moving,
Resolute certainty,
Imperceptible sojourners
Dominating vertical empires;
Joyous, silent soldiers march
Up and down these mountain sides,
While I, mere mortal, pass
Ant-like,
Scurrying in wonder,
Aware the urgency
Of ephemeral routine,
Mortal emergency...
Beneath Tall Pines.
May 24, 2012
May 24, 2012 at 3:10 PM UTC
*And Isaac went out to meditate in the field at the eventide:
and he lifted up his eyes, and saw, and, behold …
GENESIS 24:63*
You remember, oh Isaac, the face of the bride
From the Genesis foothills of dreaming’s beginning
Arriving with dusk as the sunset was bringing
The camel-bells music, the end of the ride?
The nomadic return of a hope that had died
Like a riverbed flooding and suddenly greening
A promise fulfilled, flowing into the evening
The song and the rhythm of life undenied…
I remember the landscapes, the names, the dark faces
A golden Havilah of biblical places
the handclapping chants overcoding a mystery.
Timeless recurrence; eternity imminent
Israelite graves I beheld on that continent;
Songs of Rebecca: the morning of history.
Oct 8, 2016
Oct 8, 2016 at 7:28 PM UTC
Even the stars, they say, and worlds -- but first,
It's April rain, it's light on greening gardens --
One sparrow, yes, in book and branch -- then worse,
All memory of love, the heart that hardens,
Resisting still the news. Seasons, reversed,
All water, always, quick or slow, the snow
On fields, then farmers' woods and crops immersed
By river's-work, and floodplains' overflow.
All leaves, all trees, all earth by wind dispersed;
And men, men too, each falling long-rehearsed.
Sep 3, 2011
Sep 3, 2011 at 10:47 PM UTC
as a child
I wander my young eyes
over hills in the greening
back roads
my love is the sun
how it shone
with the river around me
a breeze through these broken
fence posts,
the water, my home
how it grows, how it grows
like a hope told in silence
the sky is an opening breath
to my hazy goodbyes
and the love I have tucked
in your chest
in your hands
in your eyes.
will you say from the forest
"I kept all your
night cries and hid them in the moss
mixed your heartbeat with bird calls
and named your life a draw"?
or will I still find home
a blue shard in my arm
torn loose like a tooth from
the sand?
Sep 15, 2013
Sep 15, 2013 at 9:22 PM UTC
dew drops glisten
as the morning light dances
in peaceful silence
*in peaceful silence
the great eastern sun rises
greening the ridges*
Greening the ridges
Of the mountains and the vales
Delightful—serene.
Delightful— Serene
Flowers Waltz Upon The Ground
Feel The Rising Sun
*Feeling the rising sun
Beaming on angelic faces
Leaving a heart dazed*
Leaving a heart dazed
In love with this tranquil scenery -
A true beauty!
*A true beauty
Of love and colours,
Brightening life forever.*
Brightnening life forever,
Like a dove engulfed in a clear sky,
Yet a trick of our sore eyes.
*Yet a trick of our sore eyes
Cannot obscure the glistening
Of whispered rain*
of whispered rain
which drenches our mother earth
in a warm and loving embrace
*In a warm and loving embrace,
The winds prance apace
While the rain sings its tranquil grace*
while the rain sings it's tranquil grace
my soul dances with joy and
my heart joins in the song of the universe
Jan 22, 2015
Jan 22, 2015 at 1:14 PM UTC