Night – Page 2

September 30, 2018

The Color of Elocution

So many introductions
to the season of Fall
from the splashy
vibrantly hued colors

of oranges, golds
yellows and reds

to burnt textures of
browns and bronze

as foliage processes death
into sleeping droughts
of winter nights

where each day temperatures
fade to cool breezes
sending all matter of life
scurrying
fluttering
down

atop objects stationary or
those moving
steadily onward

while the noise and chatter
of nature’s interlude
finds the quest
for food

in the eyes of the ever busy
squirrel who squirrels away
any nuts he can

to the ever noisy, never
complacent jay
I catch a glimpse of
high in the branches

of acorn tree boughs
apparently abundantly full
whilst he screeches
at the energetic
squirrel

always mindful these acorns
belong to him
the bountiful trees
his domain

trespassing bandits
will receive
a long and wrathful
scolding

such elocution this jay
but the squirrel
will not
be deterred

Photo Taken From Public Domain Pictures and Created as Art

Squirrel in Tree

May 31, 2018June 1, 2018

Purveyor of Dreams

Photo Taken From Public Domain Pictures & Digitally Created as Art

Dream Purveyor

I am not a purveyor of dreams
for sleepless nights are undressed
and shorn of innocence
peppered weary of thoughts
like thorns

not even scented with night orchids
nor born of water lilies nocturne
viewed less in colored
prisms dim

for I do not fly weightless
high above the earth
casting giant shadows
beneath the light of the moon
revealing me integral
in the realm
of hope
of desire

I cannot be the purveyor of dreams
for life’s knowing opens
only to one garnering dreams
in nights deepest sleep
with orchids fragrant
and water lilies
a buoy for the ecstasy
of flight

Perhaps the purveyor of dreams
is illusive, a hidden vestige
of night’s firmament
for to purvey dreams
one must hold onto them
one must dream

January 2, 2018

The Moon Waxing Gibbous

Image Taken From Public Domain Pictures and Digitally Altered by Myself.

The moon waxing gibbous yet still
slicing a swath of brilliant light
as a star cloaked in clouds of grey
heralds in another new year

while fallen leaves rain-soaked
leave paths of design wind-blown
on still another cold winter night

speaking in cursory tones of apathy
clothed in ice or frosty breath
billowing as tiny puffs of clouds
as revelers send fireworks skyward

each past year is now a footprint
knowing garnered as grains of sand
stitched into the living fabric

of each life taking every step
along an ocean bathed
in luminous moonlight

as unique as the night sky filled
with a moon waxing gibbous

May everyone have a Peace filled 2018.

October 20, 2017October 20, 2017

Magic and a Mystery

The rusted tool chest on wheels now
a silent reminder of childhood wonder
when in mystery it did appear as

the night spread before us and sleep
a distant presence wrapped
in the excitement of holiday magic

we were sent to bed you and I
to await the morning’s sunrise
but I was vigilant and
so were you

as I listened to laughter seeping
beneath the door I smelled the
familiar scent of cigarette smoke
unfurling

from the neighbor who often was seen
visiting but it was late at night….and

I knew something or someone was about
as I saw you quietly push the door
to opening

I wanted to know if the gossip was true
that there was no Santa or St Nicholas
who would magically appear for
wishes come true

as we peeked carefully into the living room
it was mother who busied herself there
with the wonder of
holiday gifts
and fare

a shiny red tool box on wheels she moved
beside the tree as she smiled
with care

This is in response to Jamie Dede’s Wednesday Writing Prompt. Read more at https://jamiededes.com/2017/10/18/the-scent-of-maamoul-a-poem-and-your-wednesday-writing-prompt. The photo below was taken from the Morgue File and digitally altered by myself.

Mystery of Magic

October 9, 2017

Every New Beginning

To every newborn baby born
to those that overcome
to family diverse and all

for every new sunrise bright
for every moonlit night

the seasons that bring change
mother nature nurturing growth
remains

as seen in fields of flowers
kaleidoscope colors
in seeding fields & in
fields laid fallow

to harvesting and being thankful
for the celebration of life
& living

within each beginning
lies peace
Meta

This is in response to Jamie Dede’s Wednesday Prompt. Read more at https://jamiededes.com/2017/10/04/lchaim-a-poem-and-your-wednesday-writing-prompt. The photo below was taken from Public Domain Pictures and digitally
altered by myself.

New Beginning

September 16, 2017

The Happiness of Music

Visiting family always meant surprises
anticipated from my niece then a girl
who loved everything theater and song

whose tight curly hair & bright eyes
shone like a happy beacon of light

she remembers talk of a voice teacher
& the one time both niece and sister
practiced the violin

but the one memory that dances across
the pages of her mind is the visit
to a restaurant on a clear warm night

where the happiness of the girl seemed
simply to overflow & take flight

so when they walked into the night air
she believed they had left her behind
but not very far had she gone

for the landscape had small hills there
where she stood upon the top of one

hence she raised her arms spread wide
breaking into song to make us smile
‘the hills are alive…

my sister just smiling at the big voice
that filled the night and I sighed

This was first published in the Jamie Dede’s August Issue of the Bezine at https://thebezine.com. The photo below was taken from the Public Domain Pictures and digitally altered.

Love of Music

August 6, 2017

The Heat of August Nights

The longing for warmer weather and sunny days
falls somewhere between Winter rain
and Spring flowers beginning to petal

but it all has given way to a heat so heavy
that it settles upon her August nights
as though weighted a substantial burden

it permeates every living thing and even
insects take refuge long for cooling air
causing the synergy of habitats once again

for the fine line between longing and needing
takes her back to the petals of flowers and green
days with a cool breeze a paramour of the sun

This is in response to Jamie Dede’s Wednesday Prompt at https://jamiededes.com/2017/08/02/hot-august-nights-and-wednesday-writing-pompt where you can read more from other poets. The photo below was taken from Morgue File & digitally altered by myself.

August Nights

July 24, 2017

An Angel Waiting

I lay restlessly, upon the sheets of my bed, now soaked with perspiration. I tried in vain to sleep but drifted in and out of what I came to believe were the realities of my night.

I could see you there as real as though you were standing by my bed. “You are my comfort”, I told you. “You are my angel”. You give me your strength night after long night and even though you fade with the morning light, I know you will come to me again.

The window though closed seemed to be open and the leaves of the tree outside drifted inside. They fell to the floor to accumulate like a soft carpet and fell atop my pillow by my head. Each night these were my realities. I called to you and you came as though no walls could hinder your presence by my bed.

Beacon of darkest night
Portent of life
Guardian of my soul

You could have been a dream but each night you returned when I called. Who is to say what is real.

I quickly took out my watercolors and acrylics to create something to go with this newest post. I had been thinking of this image and so rather than ponder it too much, which I have a tendancy to do, I painted what it was my mind saw.

Dream (2)

March 31, 2017September 2, 2017

A Siphon For Dreams

The night is a siphon for dreams
drifting thru stars & moonbeams

nudging in its’ turn each muse
igniting imaginations’ fuse

visiting angels night’s shadows
a lighting of a candles’ tallow

This is in response to Jamie Dedes’ Wednesday Prompt. You can see more of this post at https://jamiededes.com/2017/03/29/but-not-the-night-a-poem-and-your-wednesday-writing-prompt. The image below was taken from Morgue File & Digitized by Myself.