Betwixt a crimson west of sunset
Rainbow-crowned thunder cloud on the east
Swept by ferocious gales
Lay Tucson waiting
Her locks scattered
Her feet on the north
On the Catalina mounts
Head pillowed on Santa Rita
Voluptuous, for her mate, the sky to descend
Genre: Nature
Tucson The Ma Nonpareil
by Madathil Rajendran Nair
Betwixt a crimson west of sunset
Rainbow-crowned thunder cloud on the east
Swept by ferocious gales
Lay Tucson waiting
Her locks scattered
Her feet on the north
On the Catalina mounts
Head pillowed on Santa Rita
Voluptuous, for her mate, the sky to descend
As mesquites, palo verdes, oaks, figs, acacia
Waved their heads in demoniac dance
Lighted by an unearthly shine
As though possessed by the elements
An evening was about to gasp its last
And then it came in a clatter
The sky with fingers of rain
Stoked her insanity as she giggled
In puddles and streams
As the Rillito swelled in orgasmic passion
Oh, what a beautiful night it was to begin!
And what happened then
To the luminescent fig beetles
Delicate dragon flies
Arizona sister butterflies
That throng the sunny days
Of Tucson’s breeze and glitter?
Don’t ask stupid mind
She is a mother, she knows
She had them hidden safe
Under her locks
As the sky stoked and stoked
And as she giggled without end
That beautiful rainy night
Tucson, the ma nonpareil!
Autumn in Florence
Is a mélange of the elements of charm
A yawn away from the steady shivers lying beyond
At dusk, a wistful stroll along eclectic memoried boulevards
With echoes of church bells in tow
Unveils a canny sense of things
A nostalgic glimpse of old things,
Old people, old places,
Bequeathing their secrets unreservedly,
At the end of a tacky, melancholic day
Genre: Nature, Weather, Italy, City
THE GREATEST GIFT
by Augustine Sam
Autumn in Florence
Is a mélange of the elements of charm
A yawn away from the steady shivers lying beyond
At dusk, a wistful stroll along eclectic memoried boulevards
With echoes of church bells in tow
Unveils a canny sense of things
A nostalgic glimpse of old things,
Old people, old places,
Bequeathing their secrets unreservedly,
At the end of a tacky, melancholic day
It is autumn in Florence …
Even the blind can tell
For a whiff of that dry Tuscan air,
Disguised as a romantic breath on the cheek
Now wafts soothingly, alluringly,
Like the caressing whisper of a lover at dawn
The gaiety, the gossip,
The veritable quality of the decline of the year
All of it a mishmash of this season of gloom
And caught in the midst of it, you and I,
‘Cause in our souls, a conscious dread had sprung
It is autumn in Florence …
Even a tot can tell
From the inexorable surge of parched foliage and withering flora
Now palpable like a beauty queen wilting with the passage of time
As an impotent sun looms
With a staggering degree of poetic frenzy, like a bad omen
Over that little piazza I call lair and you call refuge
Jaded, like the dream that steered us here
Nadir, like our possibilities, and poised to snap,
Like the fragile thread holding our sanity together
It is autumn in Florence …
Even the inebriated can tell
For the Tuscan sky is daubed with gray-hued awnings
A kaleidoscope of waning streaks, epitomizing
The artistic finesse of the heavens
A subtle connotation, a riveting verity that
Four times a year the seasons change without fail
That now leaves must turn sallow and plummet, and flowers must wither
And with them, everything except us,
Must leap beyond their prime
It is autumn in Florence …
Even a troll can tell
From that lingering mystery of vitality and lethargy,
So exquisite, so sophisticated,
That no longer obscures the daunting haze that strains the air
In the flush and bloom of early womanhood, you …
Radiant like a new moon on a starlit night
Cunningly oblivious of the secrets of my tears
Paying no heed to the disheartening dread that swathes me
For in this season, with every leaf that falls,
And every flower that withers, your days are numbered
It is autumn in Florence …
Even an obtuse can tell
From the stunning sight of Fiesole transformed into violet by the magic of twilight
And now, here we are—you and I—ensnared by a dream
Unraveled by a foe, invincible and vile
Like injured rebels ferried home to roost
Desolate hands too volatile to reach
Ardent eyes too doleful to watch
As your frailty eats you up with delicious cruelty
The way a vulture does a prey
Causing every fantasy within the limits of our amorous deeds
To evaporate, along with the last breath in your lungs
It is autumn in Florence …
Even dreamers can tell, for
The vestiges these bleak nights amass were once stacks of hope
On which now abide memories undimmed
A better friend than you life never gave
You were the bloom that autumn failed to erode
The warmth that winter couldn’t pinch from me
The wind that summer could not smother
The flare that’ll forever be my spring
But more than all this, my love,
You were life’s
Greatest gift
To
Me.
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all bones that once were strong become soft and weak and brittle,
everything that’s built, the foundations you have set,
Genre: Love, Nature, Rhyme
Love
by Aaron Carey
If a flower grows,
it’s petals soon will whittle,
all bones that once were strong become soft and weak and brittle,
everything that’s built, the foundations you have set,
all castle’s crumble to the dust all memorys forget,
you cannot rebuild a castle out of dust and air and sky,
but man and man in love,
he certainly will try…
Take back all that was weak and cast it to the wind,
as old things crash and crumble new things soon will begin….
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The mother bird tended to her young with great pride.
She knew they would not always be by her side.
She tried to teach them with love in her heart,
The day soon came for them to part.
And then the mother bird looked at her empty nest.
Genre: Inspirational, Motivational, Nature
Stronger
by Dawn M. Simpson
The mother bird tended to her young with great pride.
She knew they would not always be by her side.
She tried to teach them with love in her heart,
The day soon came for them to part.
And then the mother bird looked at her empty nest.
She did her best
To fight back the tears,
As she thought about all the past years.
With uncertainty she asked “Who am I?”.
She stared across the vast blue sky.
And with the strong wings that she had earned,
With the fire in her soul that still burned,
She flapped her wings and began to fly.
To chase her own dreams until the day she died.
She felt the wind that lifted her wings,
The feeling that only true peace can bring.
She had flown full circle in her life,
Sometimes being full of strife.
But she knew who she was again.
And as she looked down on the earth beneath her,
She soared higher than an eagle.
Stronger than ever.
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