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Green Swatches


My body will forget
My thoughts will be Scattered
Amongst Winter's Gloom.

Amongst Nature’s Seasoned robes
I walk and restore
My broken thoughts.

With widening strides
I turn to the botanical essence
Leaving traces of desire.

To swatches of green
I turn my attentiveness
To refresh tomorrow’s thoughts.

Jim
 
Poetry Theme(s):

Currently Popular Poems:

Leper Chapel - Screams from the Past

Ghost-like stones Of crumbled chalk And forgotten dreams: A leper screams. Lost limbs and Fallen faces: Nuns and monk’s graces Lost to leprosy. Condemned to the chapel: Painful screams, Disfiguring disease In Eleventh Century. A prosperous port To Dunwich they came, Outside Pales Dyke -The fortified ditch. Fragments of columns, Wind-worn capitals And carved Caen stone: Soulless shadows alone. Sandstone arches Guarding unearthly silhouettes Of threatened and isolated lepers Forbidden to work. Medicinal monk-fussing ointments Of hemlock, henbane and mandrake. Preparing for surgery, Opium alerts and vinegar-dabbed faces. Herbs soothing bacteria progressing; Curved sandstone arches Clasping the ghost-like shadows, Echoing the delicate gloom. Stephanie
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After Ozymandias

I met this itinerant in a van He says, “two huge cables dangle from cliffs In Dunwich, on the slant, with a casing round There’s printing on it where the shingle shifts And drags at the retreating sandy ground A bold script part-survives through rust, in blue A knowing, falsely modest, lower case Proclaims a proud legend for all to view Who crunch along the edge of Doggerland It tells me that the national grid renew… the rest corrodes into the shingle strand And that’s it. I’d have liked a cup of tea But the café is long gone beneath the waves” A gull skims the surface of the grey sea. Rod Smith
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Dunwich Heath Cliff

Beachen sand, coastal gravel Heave and spew with every wave Are fixed above my head Banks of sand, clots of gravel Two million-years adrift Are rolling at my feet Same old, same old Dunwich Cliff, Dunwich Beach: The poetry of sediment remains Tim
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Stones of Old

Tell me your song oh stones of old of the summers that warmed you and the strike of the cold the voices of song absorbed in your heart the anger and fear that tore you apart. Speak to me of church bells and whispered dreams the rough hands that gathered your broken seams the waterways that carried your bones of lime the soft crunch of bread and red rivers of wine. Who did you cradle in your shadowed arch as the songbirds heralded the soldiers march as battles raged in the skies ahead and you sheltered your spiders in a stony bed? Is the wear on your shoulders the marks of the wild or the scrape of a heel from a venturing child? Discarded windows frame the dance of time Oh tell me your stories great stalwarts of lime.     Emmalene  
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Castaway

If my cast was made of moss I’d be content With the spring of reassurance. If my emotions were made of clay I’d mould them Into a ball. If my ball rolled Far away I’d rescue them Without fail. Natasha
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A Woodland Ensemble - Psithurism of the Trees.

The plane tree With paper-like rustle Elephant patches And scaly trunk. Memories And mellow whispers Of a darkest tempest Dropping the bass. Constable elms Whispering, suckering saplings Converting To beetle runs beneath. Ash- With minstrel keys playing harmonies masking sinister die back. Crataegus thickets The scratchy rasping may catch you quick. Whispering pines Bend forwards Reaching skywards Splintering the silence. Mother beech With spaltered Marks waltzing And humoresque streaks. Holly reigns in Summer solstice Days shorten And poco a poco winter returns. King of the woods Ships hold Forte and Table fast. Eric
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Love Poem To Myself

Yes, I can, I surely can. Reminding myself that I always have and always will. No need to worry, no need to fret, no need to bite my nails, nor lie awake, nor forget, in clammy doubt wasting sleep-time on negative imaginings. I make positive probabilities more certain and real. I am calm, I am kind, I am fun, brave and generous too. Smiling more than most I see the good in everything you do. Deep breathing with a cheerful heart, I’ll fight your corner, feel your pain, make you laugh. I am a ‘doer’, a helper, a friend. I align my thoughts to health. I let go and I love, dancing in rain and on the edge of a cliff. Silence is better than to deliver a curse, I like to smile and to listen. Encouraging others to be the best that they can be. I am a mender, a maker of things and I am mindful of my consumption. I plant trees, sing songs, make tea and play simply and fairly. I will be as I am the intuitive, the sorter, the lover of life, the mender of minds, the ideas person, the performer, th...
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Blue Sky

Blue sky And clouds float by Looking up high I can see why They do fly Blue sky Mavis
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S.A.D

The black dog Shook his weary head Stay in bed He said. The black dog Followed me again Munching biscuits Lost energies for meals. The black dog Didn’t go for walks For three weeks He stayed inside. Not answering his calls The black dog remained silent Until Spring. Chris
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Community of Stones & Souls

Timeless, resilient stones; Miraculous creations. Fractured, yet not destroyed; Revealing artistic beauty within. Assembled into a constructive entity; A purposeful community of stones. Timeless, resilient souls; Miraculous creations. Fractured, yet not destroyed; Revealing artistic beauty within. Assembled into a constructive entity; A purposeful community of souls.   by Adrian
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