"synchronised" poems - Hello Poetry

Evening light is gentle, slow Caressing leaves, metal roofs, soil Plants, flowers, pavements and gates Clouds are the mothers - they shield us Lest the sun shines too much. Take a breath and look around; The sweet and tranquil garden will take it away. All colour blend in synchronised harmony; Blues and browns, pinks and whites Crossing into and over each other like oil paints, Warm, welcoming, beautiful. It is soothing - the sound of nothing That disrupts; razes; hates Disturbs; curbs quiet insight; One's imagination is the lone source of maximum sound That vibrates through the garden. My grandfather, my grandmother's brother, Smiles as though the sun shines through his teeth Dresses in a pale blue shirt Black shorts Both well-worn Ready to play some basketball. Oh, the joy, the fun The refreshment arising from this game in a courtyard In grandfather's garden Among young trees, leaves and other green growth. There stands a home by hand made Basketball stand, A concrete base with metal support hands Floppy strings of hoop To shoot the ball into. The garden has been bathed, it is fresh It is refreshed. Grandfather demonstrates, I listen and follow, To throw the ball into the hoop With precision and care; throw some force Into the air. The ball dances around the circle then drops to the concrete floor. We take turns As I throw and grandfather returns 9/10 of the time my aim's bad but the ball grandfather throws, I actually catch! (Or it will tumble on wet soil) Exciting, the thumping of rubber ball against ground; Keen eyes and agile hands and feet To catch the stray ball; With swift movements the ball flies! From sideways, afar and near, Into the hoop successfully, finally. Back into the house we go, As the sun leaves for home. The garden prepares for night; So do grandfather and I; Grandfather washes up; I talk to Grandmother in the garden; waiting for night, to fall fall fall, into infinite darkness - poignant memories

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Dec 15, 2014

Dec 15, 2014 at 5:05 AM UTC

195

My Grandfather's Garden

Evening light is gentle, slow Caressing leaves, metal roofs, soil Plants, flowers, pavements and gates Clouds are the mothers - they shield us Lest the sun shines too much. Take a breath and look around; The sweet and tranquil garden will take it away. All colour blend in synchronised harmony; Blues and browns, pinks and whites Crossing into and over each other like oil paints, Warm, welcoming, beautiful. It is soothing - the sound of nothing That disrupts; razes; hates Disturbs; curbs quiet insight; One's imagination is the lone source of maximum sound That vibrates through the garden. My grandfather, my grandmother's brother, Smiles as though the sun shines through his teeth Dresses in a pale blue shirt Black shorts Both well-worn Ready to play some basketball. Oh, the joy, the fun The refreshment arising from this game in a courtyard In grandfather's garden Among young trees, leaves and other green growth. There stands a home by hand made Basketball stand, A concrete base with metal support hands Floppy strings of hoop To shoot the ball into. The garden has been bathed, it is fresh It is refreshed. Grandfather demonstrates, I listen and follow, To throw the ball into the hoop With precision and care; throw some force Into the air. The ball dances around the circle then drops to the concrete floor. We take turns As I throw and grandfather returns 9/10 of the time my aim's bad but the ball grandfather throws, I actually catch! (Or it will tumble on wet soil) Exciting, the thumping of rubber ball against ground; Keen eyes and agile hands and feet To catch the stray ball; With swift movements the ball flies! From sideways, afar and near, Into the hoop successfully, finally. Back into the house we go, As the sun leaves for home. The garden prepares for night; So do grandfather and I; Grandfather washes up; I talk to Grandmother in the garden; waiting for night, to fall fall fall, into infinite darkness - poignant memories