Sunday, March 18, 2007

The Jungle


A tropical dance
Like outstretched hands
Rhythmic swaying
The petals playing
With sight and sound
And smell abound
Orchids, jasmine,
Roses of heaven,
Dahlias and marigolds.



Nature lovers behold
A treasure chest
Of her very best
In all splendor the queen
Hot, wet and unseen
Stole away in blackness
With a sole witness
The night, starry eyed
As she ran to hide



Where exotic birds
Freshly heard
Wing in quiet
Like the onset of the night
And gentle stars
Light years afar
Captured by
Those enraptured by
Their shine and blink
In paint or ink


A poet’s bliss,
Like me, in this
Sweet paradise
Until demise
To savour the sights
And proudly recite
Inspired creations


Imagination
Fired by a copper sun
Only just begun
Exploring awide
Possibilities inside
And out, all around
Absorbing all sounds
From crass cacophony
To smooth symphony
Rising and falling
Ever enthralling
From the chitter chatter
Of the brook’s laughter
As she bubbles along
To the eerie song
Of wildest breeze
And darkest trees
In flirtatious duet
Beneath bright sunset

Oh what boundless

Grace here rests
Silently keeping
To herself, sleeping
Like a tired serpent
Under the vast tent
Of dripping foliage
In camouflage


Enter not this fantasy!
Come near, and she
Will flee under our
Touch of greed and power
Her virgin foils
Will fast despoil
Only those so tender
Could befriend her



Oh gentle being
I, upon seeing
You in such glory
Will recall your story
To those who lend
And ear and send
To the world your plea
To let you be
And you shall flourish
As is my wish
And all can see
Your grand beauty


2 comments:

Anonymous said...

nice descriptions :) kinda liked it, xept the mood keeps changing every few lines o.O but maybe thats a good thing......

~Cloud

pm said...

beautiful poem . i'm inspired

Poetry

when language like bubbling streams flow




when words are laid down to fit like lovers' hands




when you feel the essence of the poet from within




when swirling thoughts are caught in the net of rhythm



when images reel as you read




when pen and paper create a symphony




then, it is poetry

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