Something on nature

- Could be sad, inspiring, happy
- Should send across a message
- Can be an old poem
- 2 entries max
- As long as you want it to be
- Stick to the broader theme of mother nature, but you can focus on any one aspect like the leaf of a tree or the droplets of water before rain. But it should send across some message. Should make people think.
- I am a sucker for dramatic endings, so that is a hint?

Great Comp!! Head goin, betta beleeeve im enterin. Maybe a piece. Bout Aaaaaarti...mo nate style!!

Go grrrrrl!!#

Big Sur California

Where the ocean meets the forest  
that's where you'll find me  
amongst the trees listening  
to their ancient tales  
 
picking up pine cones  
as I trail under  
the leaf covered canopy  
naked like Eve in the garden  
 
adorned only by nature's beauty  
wild flowers my covering  
kissing my milky flesh  
with their tender petals  
 
making my way to the beach  
letting the sun and wind caress  
collecting sea shells  
 
lying down in the waves  
as the tide rolls in and out  
opening myself as the ocean  
makes sweet love to me  
 

The Orchard

Into the almond orchards
my soul floats like a breeze

Almond blossoms, like snow
fall all around me
taking my heart to another plane

Beautiful mother nature
in constant rebirth

The world continues to rotate on its axis
as I spin, letting the snow rain down on me

Feeling invigorated
I start to run from one tree to the next
connecting my body and soul with their roots

The trees speak to me of the coming summer
when they will be pregnant and ripe
ready for the harvest

I tell them my secrets
they are always willing to listen
so stoic and old, so full of wisdom

Look close dear one
see the magic that is hidden

I listen closely
hearing their voices in the rustling of their leaves

Even when I'm heavy hearted
these sentinels give me peace

Swarm

Bursting with construction, their hexagons  
of perfected lines, their airtight angles,  
the loyalty of drones lending their muse  
towards the gilding of everything.
Auditions of fools, drunk on labour's wine  
lamenting legendary fairytales of amber  
in six-fold spaces, the fullness of creation  
waxing the marrow, a curious lace-work.  
 
One does not break more than the next,  
living and dying cocooned in Gaia's mouth  
a penetration of sorts, one inch knives  
crystallised in defence of their dead.  
They are listening to the stalling of time,  
drawing the curtains of petals to shield  
days from vibrations of night, slumbering  
in the furnace of Eden's eye.  

The video reading, which I shot when I wrote this: http://youtu.be/mYcoft5AILY

Passing place

Eleven hours of watching buildings
dissolve into the breath of the mountains
and the rain greeted us with shining hair
that darted the water with the promise of change.

From here, the tents look like thumb prints
on the face of the ancient cliffs,
from here, I watch a heron sink
scoop it's first meal of the day
and ascend into the mist.

No rocks are the same;
I turn a few in my hands, examining
and wonder why the mussel shells
are the brightest blue I've ever seen,
cyan eyes peering through the driftwood.

I place a few in my pocket,
for my little box of memories.

This shore is a passing place,
micro-climates of science and history
shedding it's skin into the North Sea
that writes poetry on the hearts
of every lonely wanderer

It's a song I am yet to write
of how peace has set me free,
made waterfalls of my fears
and opened the door of the sky
into this secret garden
I prayed into existence.  

Thanks Jennifer. You are too sweet. And thank you guys for taking this competition so seriously. I am just a novice here, so there wont be any judgments. Only the one that I can personally connect to the MOST will be the winner. I am very excited

I often wonder about the thunder
The rumble in the sky
The flash of the lightning
Shocking to the eye
I could stand outside and watch the rain
Let it soak me to the bone
Hear the fighting of the gods
And there's noway I can moan
Keep your sun keep your tan keep your burning heat
As I watch the sky flash I feel absolutely sweet

Crimson, i am bent over listening close with you....shhh....ah you have great ppwers bringing readers in...yes! I think they share many secrets with you. They cant help sharing with such a charming witness.

Wrens
I saw a pleasing sight today;
Beside the path below the cliff,
Seven young wrens venturing out,
Their new found flight a little stiff,

The parents wary of my approach,
Chattered from a nearby stone.
I had no thought of ill intent;
But wished to see the young full grown.

###

The Linden Blossoms

white petals strewn on the ground
linden blossoms white carpet
like a fairy queen wedding
was held the night before

rustlings from the leaves
green canopy above
a pair of love birds neck
Cooing softly together

gently the flowers sway
on slim tall stalks
dancing to gentle zephyr
as it blows its magic flute

under the Linden tree I sit
white blossoms on my hair
with nature I sojourn
and wish that you are here.

Fireflies and Clouds
 
I had gathered wild juniper berries and lilacs    
to press inside my pillow    
they would serve as sentinels for my dreams    
the colony of my adolescence would pollinate them    
creating new honeycombs to hide in    
 
Mama was tending the fire    
Her hands were partners to the flame  
Truckers' hands    
burnt at the edges and palms    
from cigarettes meant to keep her awake    
when she used to have overnight runs    
She called them cricket bites    
Chirps that called her home to her babies  
she confessed in my ear    
 
my baby brother tended to his new menagerie this night    
Fireflies in one mason jar    
pond frog in another    
And him beggin' mama to let him fetch a snake next  
 
No, was always the answer    
sometimes before he even asked    
 
We kept our food in the boughs o'er head  
Less the Cimmerians came calling for scraps    
 
but when we ate on evenings like this    
It fed me whole    
the nectar in the flames and the echoes in the laughter    
 
mama told baby brother that the marshmallows we roasted    
were shavings from the clouds    
caramelized and dripping with sugary bliss and reverie    
 
Once brother asked  
If we eat them    
How'd they get back to heaven    
 
When we fart, mama giggled    
And your grandpa was the best cloud maker in the world,  
she'd say  
That's why we called him Big Jim    
 
fire  
clouds  
laughter  
 
fireflies    
 
Mama    
I ask  
Can we stay here in the park  
again  
tomorrow night  
I don't like that shelter  
 
We'll see Cricket  
we'll see  

...

dappled
white flakes
bid farewell

The Hills Lie
 

The past grows bony fingers
that stretch and cast an ice shadow
lingering on my throat.

The creeping chill was seeded seasons ago
in my rush through frosted daffodils,
swaying defiant and brush-stroked in vibrancy.

Impatience fluttered its winking white wings,
enticed me further in, where every fleeting choice
took root in blood rich soil, under twisted branches.

The illusion of warmth, a false sun has set
in shades of regret behind hollow hills
crowned in far-flung rays of grey that dimmed and died.

They rose from black fields, wrinkled like years
worn on the face of the Old Man.
I gaze in their direction, imagining the beyond.

The hills lie in darkness,
they lie to me,
relentless.