"waterbirds" poems - Hello Poetry

I TOOK away three pictures. One was a white gull forming a half-mile arch from the pines toward Waukegan. One was a whistle in the little sandhills, a bird crying either to the sunset gone or the dusk come. One was three spotted waterbirds, zigzagging, cutting scrolls and jags, writing a bird Sanscrit of wing points, half over the sand, half over the water, a half-love for the sea, a half-love for the land. I took away three thoughts. One was a thing my people call "love," a shut-in river hunting the sea, breaking white falls between tall clefs of hill country. One was a thing my people call "silence," the wind running over the butter faced sand-flowers, running over the sea, and never heard of again. One was a thing my people call "death," neither a whistle in the little sandhills, nor a bird Sanscrit of wing points, yet a coat all the stars and seas have worn, yet a face the beach wears between sunset and dusk.

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Carl Sandburg

Sandhill People

I TOOK away three pictures. One was a white gull forming a half-mile arch from the pines toward Waukegan. One was a whistle in the little sandhills, a bird crying either to the sunset gone or the dusk come. One was three spotted waterbirds, zigzagging, cutting scrolls and jags, writing a bird Sanscrit of wing points, half over the sand, half over the water, a half-love for the sea, a half-love for the land. I took away three thoughts. One was a thing my people call "love," a shut-in river hunting the sea, breaking white falls between tall clefs of hill country. One was a thing my people call "silence," the wind running over the butter faced sand-flowers, running over the sea, and never heard of again. One was a thing my people call "death," neither a whistle in the little sandhills, nor a bird Sanscrit of wing points, yet a coat all the stars and seas have worn, yet a face the beach wears between sunset and dusk.

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*Barefoot and blue Waiting for a waterbirds solemn return Silently guided by a stiff windward call to closure , my melancholy day in sunlit exposure , from behind the clouds lie such explosions , red eyes placed center stage , as would be thespians hide elephant red rage Caramel colored , landlocked baptistry Soak these tired feet , wash the salt from open wounds , diluting memory and public affairs Carry them to the bottom* ...

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Nov 12, 2016

Nov 12, 2016 at 3:48 PM UTC

randolph-l-wilson

Crashing at Lakeside ...

*Barefoot and blue Waiting for a waterbirds solemn return Silently guided by a stiff windward call to closure , my melancholy day in sunlit exposure , from behind the clouds lie such explosions , red eyes placed center stage , as would be thespians hide elephant red rage Caramel colored , landlocked baptistry Soak these tired feet , wash the salt from open wounds , diluting memory and public affairs Carry them to the bottom* ...

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*Who made the hawk so sad in winter sky , etching it's loneliness to my wandering eye , Noble upon the tallest elm Steeped in curiosity , crying tales of Cherokee , of Muscogee , of hunter and warring party* *What hand did color the Georgia dusk , with lavender blue oils and orange sunshine traipsing centurion forest With waterbirds following the lantern of God home , through arable pastures , o'er granite domes*

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Mar 12, 2017

Mar 12, 2017 at 5:05 PM UTC

randolph-l-wilson

Rainy Afternoon ...

*Who made the hawk so sad in winter sky , etching it's loneliness to my wandering eye , Noble upon the tallest elm Steeped in curiosity , crying tales of Cherokee , of Muscogee , of hunter and warring party* *What hand did color the Georgia dusk , with lavender blue oils and orange sunshine traipsing centurion forest With waterbirds following the lantern of God home , through arable pastures , o'er granite domes*

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*Spinning silver , silken sweaters with - my catawba brethren , foresting oakwood estates beside red fox companions , in witness of white-tail herds , compelling frigid streams of yellow perch and shellcracker , lemongrass sun hued byways engulfed in dewdrop prisms reign atop pattern encrusted red clay earth In memory of morning , of the caterwauling Alabama easterlies , of vagabond waterbirds that sail frost laden , bucolic scenery*

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Oct 8, 2016

Oct 8, 2016 at 7:21 PM UTC

randolph-l-wilson

Highlights from a morning frolic

*Spinning silver , silken sweaters with - my catawba brethren , foresting oakwood estates beside red fox companions , in witness of white-tail herds , compelling frigid streams of yellow perch and shellcracker , lemongrass sun hued byways engulfed in dewdrop prisms reign atop pattern encrusted red clay earth In memory of morning , of the caterwauling Alabama easterlies , of vagabond waterbirds that sail frost laden , bucolic scenery*

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Braying marsh hounds of the trembling earth Thickened pools of black reserve - retained by copper red blushing , post painterly- abstracted horizons The boisterous quagmire dims with- the passing of Heavens Lamp Agitated waterbirds swarm to available- lucidity Waning apprehension ensues ...

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Apr 5, 2016

Apr 5, 2016 at 11:25 PM UTC

randolph-l-wilson

Swamp Evenings ..

Braying marsh hounds of the trembling earth Thickened pools of black reserve - retained by copper red blushing , post painterly- abstracted horizons The boisterous quagmire dims with- the passing of Heavens Lamp Agitated waterbirds swarm to available- lucidity Waning apprehension ensues ...

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A powder blue epiphany of - cumulus figurines , dancing conifers - and copious sun-showers Roadsides teeming with daffodil , dogwood and wildflower Burnt orange dusk , southbound - waterbirds , violet vallies and - silvered hillsides Noble oaks brimmed with - vociferous crows , jays and - blackbirds Wind driven brown grass disappearing - into the western horizon Village bells Distant afternoon fires Roosters calling for the day to close The clang of Angus and Brahma coming home Stars mingling with earthen shadow ...

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Mar 21, 2018

Mar 21, 2018 at 7:37 PM UTC

randolph-l-wilson

My Western View ...

A powder blue epiphany of - cumulus figurines , dancing conifers - and copious sun-showers Roadsides teeming with daffodil , dogwood and wildflower Burnt orange dusk , southbound - waterbirds , violet vallies and - silvered hillsides Noble oaks brimmed with - vociferous crows , jays and - blackbirds Wind driven brown grass disappearing - into the western horizon Village bells Distant afternoon fires Roosters calling for the day to close The clang of Angus and Brahma coming home Stars mingling with earthen shadow ...

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Coming, going, the waterbirds don’t leave a trace, don’t follow a path.

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Sep 14, 2014

Sep 14, 2014 at 9:39 PM UTC

MattG

On Non-Dependence of Mind

Coming, going, the waterbirds don’t leave a trace, don’t follow a path.

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