"mellows" poems
dust cloud heavy
in an apricot sky
cottonwood mucker
under ambrose pale
whippet and shepherd
mill at the earth patch
yellow birch hangs
over red bench park
combine shavings
in crack rust brown
scissors chips fall
at the back stop
whiskey jack looters
sing patented chords
siblings (and 2 wheel enthusiasts!)
give thanks
joyous retrievers
master the criss cross
bare maples stand
at settlers way
barred owl and blue jay
whistle in the fore-wind
ghosts
and goblins
pull on the seeds
wind gusts belt
over the west gulch
a blood rush churns
in the chilling fall morn
hallowed grounds still
at the midday
quiet reflections
of the afghan
and hound
jumpers unite
at the oxbow
route runners bend
(on a sultry foray!)
meadows exposed
in the framework
ball parks empty
with pennants past
barrel dirt favors
the brew house
crimson and copper
find bracken ridge gate
harvest hands savor
the honey and hops
blankets of color
for a winter's hatch
brush fire kept
under steady peruse
bark bites fly
and embers glow
pine cones drop
from the timber tops
3 wick candles
grace the dinner place
shiver and ******
at the piper's call
cob web dew
on the shadowy gates
a chilled mist mellows
the season's return ~
poets and artists
and dreamers awake
Oct 9, 2017
Oct 9, 2017 at 11:55 PM UTC
A garden of marigolds....orange, yellow and rust,
Bright, soft and rich, touched with golden dust.
Quiet and regal, sun kissed and fair,
Basil -citrus fragrance that mellows the moist air.
A thousand smiling marigolds, a thousand smiling suns,
Sweet nectar, ambrosia, for natures gentle ones.
Woven into garlands, yellow with tips of red,
Woven into memories with many a words unsaid.
Love's hopes of an Indian bride, clad in marigold,
With dreams wrought, promises that two hearts dearly hold.
Tearful farewell to soldiers who traverse through destiny's doors,
A garland weaved with love for those from across the seven shores.
And when the being is but a thought, as life grays and olds,
Wrapped in a hearse of love, their love, with weeping marigolds.
An offering so humble yet flowers that Gods wear,
An offering with love, with a souls quiet prayers.
Orange, yellow, rust..to love, to pray, to mourn,
Golden, sun kissed, blessed.. marigolds that life adorn.
Sep 14, 2016
Sep 14, 2016 at 9:11 AM UTC
*the droplets of water are singing a trail down the bricks of the houses
through the alleys of the glassy-eyed broken people with soft hearts, a pre-disposition for death
weaving a tabooed trail across the sidewalks that when gazed upon reeks of obscurity
and leaving faint lines on the creased skin of all the sinewy fatalities
the mildewed rain peaks across the rusted windowsill that sighs with familiarity
it sloshes against the children’s playground and slaps at the pavement with a sudden clarity
it empties itself into the spiked maze of the tree branch hoping the leafs will cling onto to it dearly
it mellows into a pond that breaks apart with sharp staccatos when mushy feet run down the street
and it hurls itself into the bitterly sweet lips of two frost-bitten lovers who will soon meet
it daintily steps into the burning embers of the flame, only to be flushed out in shame
it turns to the shower as a last resort, but whines in dismay when it’s slurped down the drain
it embraces the eyelashes until it’s shaken in misery and then watches wearily as it’s blinked away in positivity
it lumbers down the path of the bruised ego, a shattering of phrases that leaves the person’s mouth
and before it has the chance to drop it is scooped up and chastised until it moves no more
the tears and the rain drops wander listlessly for all of eternity
only to be hastily thrown away or brushed into cotton for fear of a restless divinity
it is never to reach a destination and only doomed to be forgotten
and so it seems dear friends, that raindrops are simply you and me*
Sep 18, 2013
Sep 18, 2013 at 9:51 PM UTC
I've got many things
on my mind
I might as well
talk to you.
I'm twisted
I'm disturbed
I'm vice ridden
I'm desperate too.
You look okay
I might as well
talk to you.
My life has been spent in shadows
trying to emerge
I've swept the floor
washed the windows
did the dishes too
I guess that is what they call this life.
I've seen the tunnel on one too many codeine
Grandma sent me away
I've gone astray
I blew up my future
behind *******
My children say
I gambled it all away.
One mellows in their old age
No time for anger
No time for drama too.
I've learned to accept myself
Accept you
That testerone
it blows up
it calms down
Sleep it goes way too fast
I wake up to another day.
I've rubbed myself raw
I know what it means to be deranged
I know what it means to long for it too.
You understand.
Don't nod off now
I'm coming to the most interesting part
But I woke up
in another horizon
Woke up on another plain
Another dimension has called my name
This life I now savor.
As you have said
I know it is predictable moves
A complicated game
I never learned to play.
Another opportunity
to prove I'm never
what I'm supposed to be.
I've done the best I could
with what I've got
With that I am at peace
I apologize for everything
I have ever been,
But I am alive
I'm still breathing
have another day to
prove it all again
I've got things on my mind
I might as well talk to you.
Dec 29, 2016
Dec 29, 2016 at 9:54 PM UTC
DEAR PENPAL PEOPLE, songs can make us imagine too;]
backs of freckles
cheeks to knuckles
breathes of swallows
deep to shallows
wild of mellows
-------ravenfeels
Apr 15, 2021
Apr 15, 2021 at 8:31 PM UTC
No! I aint going back.
I aint wishing to go back!
Back again to the same old routine.
The same insecure questions.
hanging in the air, behind your back.
When I hug you,they appear.
They stare at me and laugh at my miserable state.
My mind is playing games with me
and I have lost,badly.
Binge eating.Binge drinking.
Unconsciously.
Consciously.
Making yourself believe in the false
perception.
A rainbow,made of candy sprinkles and marsh mellows.
Sweet weddings and cuddly children.
But life has to be an un-idealistic *****
A sweet thing endowed on us.
A sweet candy handed to us by the shopkeeper.
a kind in kind that he gives to get away
from guilt and monotony.
A smile makes his day.
A penny gone though.
***
I aint going back.
To the TV watching.
to the hogging
and to the lousy cold **********
I aint going back to conversations that bear no fruit.
Conversations filled with hormonal rushes,
head rushes,motherly and fatherly feelings,
orderly arguments.
Angered moments,
angered and tempered to them limit.
fists, bumps,scratches.
Love drowned down with beer
smoked away in a puff.
I don't want to go back!
No way! No sir.
I would rather wait for the bus.
May be walk for miles myself.
I like to walk anyways.
***
May 14, 2013
May 14, 2013 at 7:43 AM UTC
Where did you go my queen,
Sun eluded,darkness hued the sky,
Clouds amalgamated and the sounds emerged,
Thunder tingling the mother earth,
Where did you go,you two little foot with your graceful fingers and celestial hands,
Wandering in the cosmos of obliviousness,
My mind envisaging your pastiche presence,
I see ur smile drifting on the rays of the imbued rainbow:
When the mellows of the zephyr that carried the voice of your breathe that breezed in to my breathe,
The ecstasy of tears cracked through the clustered clouds,
My hair winding as the zephyr roving through synecdoche strands...
My palm is under the influence of the dripping water,
and my eyes caught you floating, like the foliage leaf,
The ellipsoidal life carried your simulacrum,
I asked the drops of globular life that where did she impersonate you,
She limned with the bubbles that spoke chirpily:
"I saw her While I was in jaunt trip with the chariot clouds and lilting thunder,
she was strolling in the frolic fields fuddled with wallowing winds....
Her long hirsuite was in harmony with the zephyr,
As the brother zephyr was billowing in to her hair...".
I don't know where the place is,even my mind tends to imagine it,,
but I feel I too could fuse with you in the midst of that perpetual bliss,
I am waiting for you as my body transferring heat to the dripping life,
Didn't u hear those imbued silences that yelled your name...
Where did u go you plenary pulchritude,It is from you that I read what undulations are.....
If you don't come,I will...when I do...you wouldn't...
We will melt as one to the one....
Aug 29, 2014
Aug 29, 2014 at 11:48 PM UTC
*The saddest noise, the sweetest noise,
Your voice that has been
the music to my ears
There are times, it mellows my heart
Sometimes, it crushes my soul
A word that rushes my blood,
making my heart pump faster and louder
The deafening silence it creates,
makes me suffocate
for the air you breathe,
polluted my lungs
like a water pulling me down in a blink
Whispers are tender,
giving me warm embrace
but the inaudible screams,
made me float in the
darkness of infinity,
wanting for a hum of lullaby
that'll kiss me goodnight*
(a.k)
Dec 29, 2014
Dec 29, 2014 at 3:51 PM UTC
little devil I see you there
standing on the open fire,
pitch fork in hand, marsh
mellows cooking doing well,
devilish snack .
little devil dancing on the
bones of wood, skulls of burnt
pine cones burnt to black.
crushing them under foot I
hear them snap.
Flakes of flame dance in the
air, as the little one plays with
the flame dancing caressing
around him. Like it is alive and
knows who stands before it
flames engulf the air.
Shades change from orange
to red to white hot and back,
I look and the flame smiles back.
was I dreaming or was it that
skunk I smoked, wow I'm so going
to have quit that. ****** and fire
don't mix as take one last puff and
the fire consumes it smiling back..
Mar 27, 2014
Mar 27, 2014 at 2:41 PM UTC
I was flying
Above the vast sand hills,
Above yellow wheat fields,
Above the green mellows
Above the top blossomed trees,
Above the roaring dark sea,
I was flying
Above many stretched hands
Wanting me to fall,
Above many passed dreamed,
Above many obstacles,
Above many lost places,
Past tombs, graves, ruins
Above the life and love,
Above you –
All I had with me – my wings.
Jul 12, 2015
Jul 12, 2015 at 9:20 AM UTC
Fluid rivers, their white noise and chilly inhaled lace
ease my mind's labyrinth, catching deep breaths
dancing in dreams of forest filled landscapes
like a child's security blanket, mother nature's embrace
we awake to marsh mellows and sticky coat hangers
the dull, orange embers reignite purpose flames
as sunrise and coffee breaks the plains
a guitar lies naked near **** bottles of wine
reclaiming its tuning, strumming life into souls
and once the satsumas and the coffee's devoured
we bask in the sunshine, winding down hours
delaying the inevitable Watch Full Moon Tower
Apr 29, 2018
Apr 29, 2018 at 11:51 PM UTC
On my window sill, perched is a winged being
Unhappy to be sharing space with another form of life
Perplexed as I am, at what my next move might be -
Like it, I do not know what it is like to be bereft of being.
They say, beauty is in the eye of the beholder -
So I behold, and obscurity I see
Chaos and rivalry makes me cringe in my space
Hiding from circles – invitingly tainted.
Yet beauty I had seen amidst the chaotic life
Life – a symphony orchestrated at his free will
Though some notes were beyond my taste
I try to nod along, as if imbibing its grace.
My palms capture the monsoon after the blazing summer
Dark skies are torn open by the mighty thunders
It mellows down, pouring in as cold welcome showers
For halting hectic lives, it also makes some scream.
The earthy fragrance which follows induces in me – sleep
And paves its way smoothly within my tired frame – deep
I see myself relax, though my silence loud-ens
Embracing my soul it blocks out even seldom words that peep.
My life, a duet, maybe composed by time
But sung by me – and I hadn’t followed the rhymes
I tweaked a few tones, I’ve upset the hymn
Wrongly pitched a few notes - maybe missed a few lines!
A silent sigh somehow escapes my pursed lips
As the hurt which instilled it, eats into my will
Though I know I had tried to face it like a man -
I had never run away nor brought about any harm.
I hold no account for the countless days, bygone
Nor try to justify reckless moments, the past has now worn.
I know I have had my razing revenges – few
But I also know I have stood up for all my deeds, lewd.
I have created many bonds for my kids to take along
And broken a few too, for which into pillows I have sobbed
I may not have lived life, the way it was meant to be –
But I know I have lived it true, so now I recede!
Nov 18, 2011
Nov 18, 2011 at 10:51 AM UTC
Mornings with you
Are sad mornings too
They’re the saddest hellos
And the bestest goodbyes
They’re the greyer mellows
And the forsaken sighs
All fill the air with hardened conversations;
With lines of monotonous emotions
And gasps of bored, strained laughter
So regret comes thereafter
This remorse is not for the hidden indifference
But for spewing lackluster exuberance
(fake, all is fake)
Such a waste
It goes on and on with distaste
Neither one willing to shed the mask
Making this a pretender’s task
This masquerade will carry on
Spiraling us into decadence
The chance of us seems forlorn
I might never ever get to say “Good riddance!”
Mar 1, 2014
Mar 1, 2014 at 6:11 AM UTC
I am from pancakes, from ovaltine and cheerios
I am from an empty street that welcomes bare feet at twilight
I am from a big green back yard
from lilacs and daffodils
valentines and Easter eggs
from road trips in the van
And tuna sandwiches with extra mayonnaise
I am from being late to everything
And bedtime and naptime
From Bactine and band aids and bee stings and remember to wear shoes
when you ride your scooter
or walk over the pine needles
or under the slide where the grass is dry and sharp
I am from everyone is equal and religion is not a bad thing
And no one is wrong to believe,
But you don’t have to.
I am from Cheese pizza and Chocolate Milk
From the dinner bell when dad gets home from work
Or the candy cookie at the end of the day
if you help mom with the groceries
I am from waffles and homemade peach ice cream on the forth of July
From water melon and doctor Suess on a picnic blanket
From Crayons and markers and coloring books
I am from stuffed animals covered in dust cause you left them outside
From ski school
From pink lemonade and M&Ms;
I am from no matter how cold that water is
I will swim in the rivers and oceans
I am from flying kites
From riding bikes to the end of the street
From sleeping outside on the deck
But not the whole night,
Cause you start to miss your bed.
I am from Halloween is scary sometimes-
And so is the queen in Snow White and Sleeping Beauty
And the witch in the Wizard of Oz
And the abominable snowman in Rudolph
From I think we will stick to the jungle Book and Lady and the *****
I am from snowmen and sledding hills and hot chocolate
with extra marsh mellows
From hanging Christmas lights in a snowstorm
And Dads sorry he let you jump off the deck
when you hit your nose to your knee-
He thought the snow was deep enough.
I am from Sprinklers and Trampolines
From Lodge Pole, Columbine, Bear Tree
From Ten minutes to bedtime
Junie B Jones Clifford the Big Red Dog and Bear in the Big Blue House
I am from Juice Coffee and Cinnamon toast
From broken heels and Sticky fingers
From counting stairs and sheep and pennies
and the days until Christmas
From the top of Dad shoulders at the tree lighting
From falling asleep with your head in Moms lap
in the booth at the restaurant.
I am from love
From hugs and kisses and holding on to one another so tight
Because what other way to show them you care.
Feb 25, 2014
Feb 25, 2014 at 1:30 AM UTC
Hear the whistling wind. See the snow flakes fall. Look at ice crystals as they glisten like jewels on tree limbs. School is cancelled for a snow day and children laugh and fall down on patches of ice as they skate and sled. Hot chocolate had replaced iced tea and marsh mellows stick to your nose as you try to eat hot smores. The heat of summer has vanished and the bluster of fall has gone. Now is a joyous and restful time as the song of winter is sung.
Sep 26, 2015
Sep 26, 2015 at 11:24 PM UTC
A sweet smile,
A cheerful laugh
full of glee.
O, how she shines
with the sun!
A friend,
if she may
be today
what tomorrow is
to Spring
And as Springtime
arrives,
you'll be glad to see,
the cheer
you'll hear
As she dances
with the daffodils
And Fall may come
Autumn, it may be
She mellows at the beauty
of yellow from the green.
Winter, with its blizzards
and cold nights,
But a friend she may be;
to a snowman, company.
Her sweet smile
therefore, be Summer;
She melts the ice and snow
as the sun arises.
And when the day
comes to pass:
O, what happy day!
Let this be for me
That I'll be
as ever amiable
as thee.
Jun 21, 2017
Jun 21, 2017 at 8:02 AM UTC
And look now, as we stroll to the gallows,
How my harsh laughter suddenly mellows
And from a whimsical immunity
Turns into a hellish reality.
And as I know not of what will follow,
With eyes unclear and a gaze so hollow,
My mind turns into a cacophony
Of endless screams, that speak uncertainties.
And, with a tearful eye and a smile so grim,
I turn to this rope, that so final seems.
Smiling anxiously and suppressing a scream,
Forward, in obedience, my head I lean,
And turn to the roaring crowd, with a raised chin.
Knowing I lived, I grant them my final grin.
Apr 21, 2014
Apr 21, 2014 at 10:14 AM UTC
I used to spend my weekends on a lake called Ossipee, somewhere up in New Hampshire. During the day we’d spend hours in the crystal waters, working on our tans and watching as our skins turned a shade of golden brown. At night we’d make campfires and roast marsh mellows and play loud music until the old neighbors next door told us to keep it down.
I would ride my bike down to the campsite where my friend Brian’s parents had a place, and we’d ride all over the grounds or swim the lengths of the beaches. When we had money we would go to the general store and stock up on sweets and pizza, and sometimes our parents would bring us out on the boats to explore new sections of the lake.
We did this every weekend until the day that Brian’s brother fell off his boat and drown under the dock. After that, Brian’s parents didn’t bring him up on the weekends as often, but during the week his mother would sit in their doorway and cry, and sometimes when I rode by seeing if Brian was around I’d hear her saying William’s name.
Nov 22, 2013
Nov 22, 2013 at 12:28 AM UTC
Nakedly bottled.
Capturing bursting seasons
here and now.
Life, delicate in its notes,
the top notes,
lithe as youth,
citrus and bloom,
ever briefly,
recondite pleasure,
a suppliance of time
a rush that fades away.
Heart notes,
the flesh of our days, unfold—
warm spices, florals, deeper and continues to exude as winter winds careless breath.
In the middle years, the scent sits and blares and mellows—a steady pulse of sandalwood and musk.
Sultry as the scent may have lingered,
flirtatious colors in the breeze’s hair
the base notes come,
the earthier tones,
amber and resin,
heavier on the air,
decays a final wisp
until faint on the skin.
A memory is born.
Sep 27, 2024
Sep 27, 2024 at 1:21 AM UTC
My heart writhes of pain, in the chilling fire
The fire for which she gathered, tinder
My quill and his ink froze, in the chilling fire
The fire which she gathered for my pyre.
My vellum sits bone-dry, in the chilling fire
Her fire, which burns my voices to cinder
Every fortnight, I see her glistening eyes
Reciting a monotonous sonnet of grey
That sonnet would never ever suffice
In sheathing me from her stagnant voice
As she smothers my final embers of life
As she “graces” me staleness from life’s fray
Her brushed hair, smooth in bronze.
Her florid face, baroque and supple.
Her lips, curled to a fluttering smile
Her gait, silent, steady and subtle
Her eyes, icy daggers skewering my heart
Her fingertips, flames freezing my breathe
I await in void as her hand rests on mine
Glaring the gloaming sky with heavy eyes
She drained my soul into a dead mine.
But... she birthed my precious Daphne
A shallow stream began from my dry eyes
“I miss our waltz, I always did, Ania.”
The ink on my quill began its flows
My heart repose, as my Ania mellows.
But sorrow, clutch me, she was my Ania
I shall see her very soon, in our meadows
We will have our Final Waltz, Ania
Yes, Ania; Our joyous waltz to Follia.
Aug 19, 2020
Aug 19, 2020 at 2:28 AM UTC
keen dance in the willows
a weeping to come
never keeping anything
yet always reaping
your colors seep and bleed
deep and fast into my tapestry
alter complexion
darker hues peer subtly over
the ledge of lost dreams
and its sister comes to lodge
within the temple of this
lonely yellow heart, mellows
bright green soul, bruised
indignant white passion, bright
vivid purple bliss, falters
turn your bright eyes from me
Apr 21, 2013
Apr 21, 2013 at 8:09 AM UTC
Enjoying being alone
With first snow falling
On my lawn,
Covering Spring
Til distant dawn
With mini mellows.
Beulah, my new magnolia,
Will ring the bell in May,
But resting now,
Beneath the warmth of winter.
Dec 12, 2016
Dec 12, 2016 at 8:48 AM UTC
Early Summer,
Cherry Trees Blossom,
Sitting in the moonlight,
And two a.m calls.
The soft scent of perfume,
Whisps in the air,
Take a deep breath,
And take a listen.
Early birds chirping,
Crickets creeking,
Hands touching,
And marsh-mellows roasting.
The guitar strings strum,
The crowd starts to hum,
You close your eyes,
And cherish this moment.
It's full of heaven,
It's full of life,
It's early Summer,
Where Cherry Trees Blossom.
Jun 26, 2014
Jun 26, 2014 at 2:08 PM UTC