Prismatic colours, scintillating,
gladly splashed on green stalks
surrounded by variegated leaves, springing
into their summer dresses. Deciding, for the nonce,
that this or that colour will do
matched to this hue
or that. No hat, just a corona,
or a diadem, strategically worn
in concert with natural grace,
and an eloquent acquiescence to fresh tears
wrung from emotional summer clouds,
reluctant to let them thirst,
unsated.
By autumn, colours dated,
gold comes to the fore,
copper, and more silver filigree frost
tears mourn for the lost
prism of sun
that seasons have run. And
taking their loss
with natural grief, they chase not
the thief who stole their brief
time of glory and beauty.
They die
with a sigh
as all things must. But
here is the hope
that springs from the dust
of decay and mould. When all's said and done,
the natural way
is for them to return,
not lingering long, but blessing,
again and again, succeeding
years of self seeding bring back
from earth and from dust,
all that pleases our eyes,
our noses, our fingers. The poseys of
summer, dried for remembrance, crumble,
as stalks fall and surrender
their prismatic colours.
When it all comes to dust,
nature must, as a law of its making,
renew what was lost. Thus
we don't sigh for loss when winter returns.
The scars that it brings are lifebeds,
not things to dread, instead
anticipation sharpens our senses, and reawakens
ability to wonder
at spring's newest green.
A contest entry
- Celebrating the klassiest of lassies by tomisb.
2250 points, ended June 25, 2008, 15 entries
Bronze trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
First poem in 15 years. Should I just stick to prose?
Comments
1 - 6 of 6
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I LOVE this! This just blew me away!! I love, love the use of internal rhyme, it was perfect! I really wish I could write like this, this, is just stunning. I absolutely love it. Worthy of it's trophy, thank you for telling me about this!!
Blessings,
~Michaela~
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No, this doesn't look as if you should just stick to prose at all. This is a truly beautiful piece. It is ... magical; I felt like I was in an enchanted garden. Lovely words and rhymes, and flow... I see nothing that can be picked at. This is perfect!
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This is lovely poetry, which says as much between the lines as in them. I was caught in the images, as seasons and their reasons unrolled, decorated with magical rhymes, which seemed unplanned and fitting. The idea that all is well and all shall be well is set in natural beauty - this is divine truth.
If your prose is like this, it is poetry.
Congratulations for deserved recognition.
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This is a large and wonderous vision. Your gift for catching with tight imagery and taut phrases is well recieved. For taking the time to enter and delight Karen, Thank you. For making it harder for me to judge this contest . . . I am not so sure
Peace & LIght,
Tom B.
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Dear Jim,
I read this with great interest, because it speaks to the continuity and wisdom of spiritual seeing. There is a poem by Robert Frost called "Nothing Gold Can Stay" The content of your poem has the same ring of wisdom about it, for nothing born of the spirit decays or dies and is maintained in beauty and strength--always to return the "years the locust hath eaten."
Every season of nature carries this beauty, and it pertains to the human cycles of existence, too. The colors in this poem speak to my sense of green in a most spiritual way. Someone I love, who has passed, was an artist. He had an amazing life touched by physical trial and miracles. He used to say to me, "If you want to know the substance of spirit, close your eyes and tell me if you can still know the beauty of a flower, it's form, color, expression in perfection. That is the substance of it's being in Divine Mind and it's ever present." I know he wanted me to look beyond what my eyes could physically see.
I ever wonder at "spring's newest green," Jim. The miracles of life we witness here...how much more exquisite they must be in the realm of spirit seeing. Thank you for sharing this! Your thought truly touches mine with such beauty of color and sustenance! In truth is has many more, but I always thought if Love, the force of creation, had a color, it would be green,,,,
~Karen
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When it all comes to dust
Karen, first of all, let me say how glad I am that you are able to read, consider and comment. Both Delia and I continue to pray for your full recovery.
It's so long since I even attempted poetry that I was expecting this to be slated, but I should have known to expect graciousness from you, however undeserved.
Give me a little time and i might manage something more on this site; at the moment I'm busy with my first really major work, "Dad's Will", which is on Storywrite, and shows a little promise; at least it has attracted some interesting comments, so, thus encouraged, I'm plodding on with it.
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