[x]

A Standing CorpseUnder the seething heat of the sun
A juniper stands on a dry hill
Like so many surrounding him
He was burned to death by a wildfire

His twisted branches are smoky white
Still reaching out for all the heavens
In botanical rigor mortis
Commemorating desperation

He is a skeleton of a tree
A standing corpse in desert sunlight
Never to drink another raindrop
As dry as the arth that hold his roots

I step closer to this juniper
Small clouds of dust kicked up by my feet
I gently touch his bark and wonder
How longuntil his form break apart

Shade's ReprieveBeneath the shade of a juniper
I rest amid arid, yellow grass
Leaning with my arms propping me up
For many miles before me, dry hills
Stand covered in juniper and sage
Bathed in scorching unobscured sunlight
I take another swig of water
From my bottle and slowly inhale
Ever thankful for the shade's reprieve

A poem for the MoonThe moon is like a lamp in the night
It shines down on the world with its pure light
It listens to the calm sleep
Of its world’s little sheep
So gently is the light that embraces us
And in the day it leaves without making a fuss
Unnoticed in the day, but the moon is there
And it watches us and follows us everywhere
It shines its soothing light in my darkest days
It tries to cheer me up in its own ways
For me, the moon is something I could sing about
And it will listen to my voice and I have no doubt
Oh lovely moon so big, so round, so white
Never stop shining your pure light which shines so bright

StargazingI have the most wonderful view
As I sit here talking to you
I look to the sky
As a bright star flies by
Hoping my wish will come true

JasmineJasmine
Driving down the road, windows rolled down,
Lovely young ladies wrapped in their evening gowns.
Wave to them as you pass by,
Down here in Charleston there's no need to be shy.

Take a deep breath of air,
This wonderful breath that we all share,
Clean, pure air that cleanses our minds,
It lets us calm down and unwind.

Jasmine in the air
Jasmine is the smell everywhere
Jasmine in the air
Tuck a flower in your hair.

Driving down the country road,
Within my hand a flower I hold,
A scent only one flower possesses
Watch it grow and cling to terraces.

Jasmine is the scent
The scent of our coastal world
We like it how it is
And we do

Seasons changeThe cardinal darts through the gleaming snow,
Wings beating harsh against the coldest winds
In fields of white where flowers won't grow,
Where leaves hit frozen rivers at their bend.
Life barely exists in this time of cold,
Too frigid for the little ones to play!
I then start to think of summers of old,
Of clouds in the sky, when fun filled my day.
Though, winter never lasts for very long...
The snow will start to melt and soon will fade.
The birds can resume their chirping and song
As they perch in the trees of the now green glade.

Look to the sky and you will surely see
The most brilliant blue bird soaring free.

ForestsForests
Much
like us,
They grow.
Much,
like us,
They fall.
As you count the rings,
The more you begin to know.
As you count the wrinkles,
The more you recall.
But when trees are surrounded by too many others
They cannot
g
r
o
w
;
Much like us.

Broken WordsAll through morning I was speechless
Words I broke in helpless fury
Many times they have betrayed me
I will let you be the jury
Now I'm glueing fragile pieces
That refuse to stick together
Some of them are so tender
Soft like dawn and light like feather
Some are serious and strong
Others jumpy, restless, funny
All of them give so much love
Like a smile that's bright and sunny
They're a part of me, my own
They have taught me many things
We have traveled many roads
They have given me the wings
They have shown me way through mazes
Held me up when I fell down
Sang to me the words of lyrics
Now they're broken and run-down
I have no right to judge them
They have logic of their own
All that happens has a reason
Love and care I should have shown

RocA flash of white against the blue
With a giant eagle's hue
It dives into the evergreen
Amongst the gleaming grass' sheen
And spreads its wings to dominate
Yet no other compensate
It rises high to disappear
It ascends to the heavens sheer
To when the thunder makes its sound
The azure lightning cracks the ground
Crimson flames spew from its maw
Tides of hunger churning the floor
Howling winds rip through the glades
For as the moon stands, sunlight fades

Pale, Pure MoonlightIlluminating the dark, jewelled sky,
You’re so beautiful – you can easily catch the eye.
Resting next to the shimmering stars,
You’re so beautiful – you can make me forget any wars.

The peace you bring takes a tonne off my shoulder.
The happiness you provide takes off my back a boulder.
The calmness you offer removes all my headaches,
And the joy that replaces those shall last for decades.

The golden sun can be so fiery and ablaze,
But it is simply no more than a phase,
Stays in the morning, disappears in the night;
Whilst you stay always, yet very faint in its light.

However, those golden rays will never defeat you

Upon the Loss of my Grandfather's TreeA long time ago, before I came to be,
My grandfather came home to plant a small tree.
The sapling, it grew, and he watched overtime,
Not a clue that one day that tree would be mine.

By the time I was born, the tree still yet grew,
And dangling from branches, a swing made for two.
My grandpa, he’d sit there with my tree and I,
And continued to do so until he had died.

But still I’d sit under the tree every day,
Like a consoling friend with nothing to say
I’d stay there for hours, through summer and cold,
It may not have been Grandpa, but it had his soul.

Years came and passed. It was 2006.
With our house in ruins, we neede

Opowiesc o wosnocsi cz 1,2,3Ucichł szelest liści, złagodniał wiatr. Dolar obudził się i czuł już bezgraniczną wolność. Obok niego mieściły się łąki i pola. Było pusto i każdy krok i ruch można było usłyszeć. Nie widział już starej i przeraźliwej przyczepy, rozwalonego boksu ani ludzi. Prócz ptaków nie było niczego. Nie wiedział nawet gdzie jest znajoma okolica. Samotność i bezradność zaczęła doskwierać koniowi. Gdzie by nie podejść widać to samo- hektary zielonej trawy i pola. Instynkt konia podsuwał mu ucieczkę. W każdej chwili przeraźliwa przyczepa może podjechać i zabrać go! Zagalopował przed siebie i z nadzieją na znalezienie bezpiecznego schronienie rozglądał się wokoło. Nagle spostrzegł przed sobą las. Spokojnym, ale chwiejnym krokiem pod

Loyal is the beastLoyal is the beast

Loyal is the beast which slays those
Who would harm my child
With razor fangs and claws so sharp
An honour made of steel

He is of my blood
Our hearts beat in unison
He cries when i cry
Howling and wailing

Flow do the tears from his eyes
When comfort he does seek
Don’t dare cross my threshold

Welcome to his domain
Beware that you are a guest
If you pose any threat
He will kill you

A savage a monster
I hear the names you call
But you are wrong
You are blind

Would not you take your nails
Too the eyes of your foe
As your teeth sink into their throat
To protect your given child?

Loyal is the beast
Who would

HurricaneRain drizzles softly against my window pane,
The wind is like a lion. Branches snap
Signs fly, giving me plenty to write with.
Deaths occur yet I am immune; this time.
It’s a story on the television,
Effects I only see and hear.
I’ll head to bed, with everything I need
And wake up with it still here.

The Tree Over The StreamThe tree resembled to me love itself,
The sunlight a display of radiance,
The water a stream of passion, yourself
The owner of my summer allegiance.

Alas, this picture of sublimity
Would pass, becoming a three year winter.
Now, a picture of instability
Our base, innate connection would splinter.

As I sit committing my thoughts to paper,
My mind watches and ponders on those
Visions and desires, which fled as vapour
Fore my chance to share them with you arose.

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haiku 13blossoming anew
birdsong

And to Write of LoveHow small a view
How close our vision
Love

As though it could only exist
By what we grasp in our tight circle of senses

Is there a place where it is not seen?
A ragged and primitive people not educated in its fashion?
Do not earth’s creatures, in motherhood and more
Reflect its features?
Even the tailings of its nature shine

What surpassing motive stands?
What flesh or spirit left unstained?

Transcendent
In timeless tales – the noblest theme

Have authors spawned in ages past
Plumbed its depths
Marked the wellspring or traced its source?
Though tracks were left, the
Music and musings of hearts inspired

In substance;

Just PassingNot far from the cabin door the trail began. The lake, placid in the morning light proved a great mirror for its splendor. No shimmer awoke to break this spell save that which ringed the piles of a humble quay; the boats having been pulled ashore to mark the summers end. The present season is fitting for our stage in life. The ‘Golden Years’ it's called.

Our pace is slow – we amble on. She asks me if she still looks pretty. I smile and tell her she looks as good as she did in 1977; another fall day. I didn’t think to lie, her beauty shone through whatever humble exterior she resorted to for woodland walks at

EdificeSuch a word
Edifice – daunting, sound, secure

A lasting image, the pillar of some magnificent past
A monument from a time beyond withered memory

A woman, her labors passing

Build – build it well
Defy the ravaging decay of mortar
and mortals passing
if you can.
(You can’t)

A man, his seed secured

Foundations crack – slender, patient roots divide
Carvings wrought of wind and rain
Displacing those, the craft of men
Thus
The proud ages’ vital witness dims

A child…
A child?

Yes, build there
Outlast the weary works of old
Edify young minds, build the bridges of curiosity
Fuel the fires of

What Passes Here?Lift!
Lift up your eyes!
The world
it swirls
about you

Eddies of passing souls adrift
Nature's remarkable lark
Each unattended will quietly pass
To futures the sightless ill mark

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...and Wonder

by *rlkirkland, Jan 4, 2013, 5:26:28 PM
Literature / Poetry / Nature / Traditional Fixed Forms

Nestled deep among the thinly settled northeast, modest in light of the world's greater ranges, the White Mountains sprawl; only their highest peaks, beaten bare and snow-capped, pierce the warring currents above – the world's windiest. Far west are North America's high plains, host to massive buttes sprawling among the formidable Rockies and Tetons; stark and forbidding – found to be hostile to all but the most determined of settlers. And who has surveyed afoot the majestic Andes, Alps, or Himalayas? Spanning such vastness touches the grandest nature of awe – a defining often deadly.

Who sees the fogs of morning rise
adorning tree lined hills;
traversing through a sun-blessed dawn,
abiding autumn's chill?
Wending on through stately pine
Where winds still whisper songs sublime

Who sees with eyes of budding wonder
those splendor-mantled mountain sides;
whose dappled foliage, arching brows,
has oft' a craggy face to hide?
What breathless grandeur fills this view
Above fair meadows draped with dew

Who feels the bracing clash of airs
traversing spires so high
that silver ribbons, rivers seem
and naught but eagles fly?
What trees remain are withered now
Before the gnawing winds to bow

And having climbed yet higher still;
Every season's vigor chilled –
Survey below a spacious land
Consider then purveying hands

...and Wonderby *rlkirkland

Literature / Poetry / Nature / Traditional Fixed Forms

This hybred of prose and verse is a 'traditional fixed form' only in that I sustain a fixed rhyming scheme and made an attempt at harmonious rhythm throughout its strophes. There is no historical precident that I consciously endeavored to emulate.

The subject is a re-imagining of an early 2010 piece; 'Wonder'

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*halcyonshores Feb 25, 2013 Hobbyist General Artist

This is beautifully enchanting.

*rlkirkland Feb 25, 2013 Hobbyist Writer

Thank you so much for reading, commenting and favoring my work so VERY often.

*halcyonshores Feb 25, 2013 Hobbyist General Artist

The pleasure is absolutely mine.

~pseudometry Jan 6, 2013 Writer

Fantastic sensory description. Agree with comparison to wine above, what details here are to savour and re-savour, for sure.

*rlkirkland Jan 7, 2013 Hobbyist Writer

Thank you; a small tribute to a vast resource.

~pseudometry Jan 7, 2013 Writer

Indeed!

=Bark Jan 6, 2013 Writer

Beautifully epic!

*rlkirkland Jan 6, 2013 Hobbyist Writer

I'm so glad you could enjoy it. Thanks for adding it to your collections as well.

As in a haibun (though the poetic element would be a much briefer haiku) the prose sets up the tone and scope of the poem that follows.

*lombregrise Jan 5, 2013 Professional Writer

a fantastic piece.

"Who feels the bracing clash of airs
traversing spires so high
that silver ribbons, rivers seem
and naught but eagles fly?
What trees remain are withered now
Before the gnawing winds to bow"

are marvelous lines.

*rlkirkland Jan 5, 2013 Hobbyist Writer

Ah, thank you kind sir.

I appreciate your attention on this; comments, collecting and featuring it in your group.
I have visited there and it holds an interesting focus; hosting themes I write about frequently.
I think i'll join (if you'll have me).

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...and Wonder

...and Wonderby *rlkirkland

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