Skip to main content

Yins and Yangs

Just this minute, the white-tailed
Magpies are finding themselves
In the verdant glades of the Rockies,
As the aspens, fresh green, quake in the wind.

They know nothing of Jon Snow,
Or the window on the second floor
Where I look out, remembering,
Longing for apricity, the sun on my face.

But the gloam is settling in,
And the magpies will soon be seeking
Windows of their own
To look out of.

And I think the shadows on my page
Are cast like dark rainbows - made of light
And things in the way.
Awe-inspiring shapes I couldn't see in the dark.

Is it best to be inside or
Outside? Or can I be moved
To appreciate this
Pedulumic cycle -

To be tossed, fro and to,
Between creation and decay,
Between sunrise and
Sunset?

Do you feel the loam in your hands,
How rich it is when you dig deeper?

Do you admire how perfectly
The lilac blossom, with its powerful redolence,
Seeks your attention as if to say,
"Stay outside for a while."

As my colleague yammered about
The mystery of wumpkins, in that cafe
On the second floor, my mind fled to the ever-out-of-hand ectectbo

Of life's masterful fecundity and
How it starts in the dark
And grows into
The light.

--

 Mad Words List 6.12.18

Apricity
Creation
Glade
Verdant
Awe-inspiring
Ectectbo
Loam
Blossom
Decay
Redolence
Fecund
Gloam
Wumpkin
Rainbow

--

This was my first attempt at a themed word list request. I asked people on Facebook, Reddit, and Twitter what their most beautiful word describing nature was. Very good response, thanks to all!

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

Bonus Poem: Look Up!

Looking down, I read the priceless pages, Someone else, sweetly, precisely, Had written their drinkable life on. And I drank in the appreciation Of her words, one sentence at a time, A good, fresh white. Sensational, the clouds were Pouring in, filling my cup,  Easing in, with a soft voice that said, "Look up!" My eyes glanced, only peeking At first, toward the sky. Those rain-bringers harnessing My irises with glee. And as if it had been there All along, the whole long while, A sparrow drifted into the Watercolor before me, soaring. It glided on the currents That were my own world, too. And we shared the view, Him up there, I, eyes lifting further now. And then the wind found itself Playing in the cottonwood's hair. And I smiled, thinking About how good it probably felt, Those wind-fingers, sifting through. 
Post a Comment
Read more

The Protagonist

She was more of an idea Than a person, yet Her arms reached through The wrinkled pages As I was planning Her defenestration. “Don't,” she said, holding My hand steady. Her typical loquaciousness Gone in a moment - being At the rim does that. Her desperate idea-fingers Grasping, trying to stop The Dusk. I brooded over her Resistance. This story Would be knee-deep In hardship, in never-before-felt Pain. How could I put her In the middle of this Vast dystopian wastebasket And hope she clamors Out? Perhaps I could give her A companion, a slobber-filled Canine or a not-so-kindred Spirit? I could fill her days With synchronicity, with a This-leads-to-that purpose, to fight through The drawl and the drudge, The beginning. In this oneiric world, More nightmarish than The last, she would find Herself at the cusp of Her Self. First demure, red lips Parting only for candy-laced words, And then later, only To respect a humble god or command Her hunger-ridden army To live. Yes, I see the smoke ...
Post a Comment
Read more

Leashed on the Edge of "I"

Do you ever wish you could view yourself As others see you? At a distance? That you might become one of the crowd Or the speck from the airplane? Or maybe you might become so close That you are nothing but locks of hair And the smell of Cabernet and black tea And a force in the night. I imagine you could even be mistaken For someone else. Could you mistake you For someone else? I think I could do it, Be you, or her, or him, or that dog over there Sniffing the fence, sorting out these Divisions. I didn't say I was I from the Beginning, but I wonder how we drag "I" Around like a stick, and chew a piece off Now and again. You were thrown the stick, And you fetched. But what if you could sniff Beyond the fence and be something more Or something less? Would you? Could we?
Post a Comment
Read more