#32 POETRY =

By Charles Robert Lindholm 

Poetry =

A morning hike

No. 7 the Jemverse series ‘Down in Dorset’

So we all walked back to Charmouth
early morning 'round sunrise
with mist in all the valleys
and a glow atop the rise

Took us about an hour
then we walked right back again
as the sun climbed higher brightly
in the east from whence it came

Haiku

day dawned delightful

dainty dragonflies in flight

naiads dancing

O’Prunty

5/21/2021

Her Place

grounding and grinding

the mustard weed

to a color nearing ochre

and a mixture of red clay

she paints frescos

on the walls

of hidden caves

leaving her watermark

O’Prunty

5/20//2021

The cast of winter’s die

The teezles look to fields beyond
lacklustre yet still fine
whilst sheep in woolly jumpers
graze the green on which they dine

Winter shrugs its shoulders
resolute to Nature’s hand
as hibernating creatures rest
in England’s pleasant land

Reflection the raindrop

Reflection the raindrop
there in the field
where gathered water falls
and, caught in a moment
with a tear in my eye
I am enamoured as
Mother Nature’s beauty calls

Sunday Morning Sunrise

The Sunday morning sunrise

Ascending Americas skies

Seems to revive dreams

Dreams, that nearly died…

And though the fights not over

And though the road is long

This Sunday morning sunrise

Reminds us to stay strong…O’Prunty

In Honor of President Elect Joe Biden and VP Kamala Harris

NATURE’S LIGHT SHOW

By Charles Robert Lindholm

The
Lightning Strikes
In The Distance,

A Light Show With
Thunder

Copyright © 2019 Charles Robert Lindholm, The Reluctant Poet
All Rights Reserved – 05.21.2019 @ 4:15  p.m.

Please Come Visit My Archive!!

A Bite of Moon

doors melt in my eyes
fishes shiver in fright
if rabbits could count ducks
leaves would spread smiles

Things to do on hot days II

Sitting in the garden
in my favourite chair
in my favourite shirt from Greece
watching wildlife there
Little birds a flutter
tasting birdseed by my side
and other times a squirrel
have here I’ve often spied

-24.06.20_02:40-

Angels are bowling
In heaven

Dawning

light came dancing through the trees

on twigs, branches, vibrant leaves

as day dawned delightfully:

just me, my garden,

and loose-leaf tea…O’Prunty 6/21/2020

-09.06.20_21:50-

They trill in their thousands
Briefly over powered by
Bullfrog or car,
Singing ever louder
A carpet of sound
Growing ever closer
Pressing inside of my
Skull.

Little tree gone

We had a tree growing
out of the front wall
which I’m sorry to say had to go
For though it was fine
its roots had entwined
and had threatened the wall, don’t you know

On Beauty

The witching hour passed me by
Dawn scaled the eastern sky
Laced in lavenders, pinks, and blues
The beauty of Nature came shining through

And all that kept me wide awake
Pales in comparison for beauties sake
For what is Life void of beauty?
But a mundane existence complied with duty

So, take a breath, glance around
There’s always Beauty to be found
And may your eyes be filled as mine
Reflecting Beauty, surreal, sublime

That sweet, sweet slumber finds you once more
Content with Life as never before.

O’Prunty
4/23/17

-23.03.20_18:06-

Stream clattering down,
Metallic plinks

Mountain Morning

The mountains, lustrous at dawn.
Below, here in the valley,
the droplets of last night’s rain
shimmer on blades and twigs, their
molecules respond to the sun
like a woman rising to
meet a beloved’s touch.

Wait.
Something is going on up there
on the deep-packed slope.
A whirling figure of white, of mist,
there, yet almost not;
A snow giant,
like a tranced dervish, twirls in
the morning’s new energies—
it whirls violently,
fingerless, wispy hands thrust
high into the cold blue,
200 feet tall, or more.
A mile, maybe. It’s hard
to tell from here, as it’s
insubstantial. Massive.

In Stanmer Woods

In Stanmer Woods the trees stand tall
and sheltered down below
I stand as if on tippy-toe
as I’m quietly in the know
For up above the wind blows free
with frigid winter blast
yet down upon the bracken floor
there’s stillness here to last

The Curvature of Water

And here, in the kingdom of clouds,
vast continents of mist
dwarf the mountains,
lumber lightly
in from the ocean,
float improbably, silently.
They sometimes, when the air is cold,
leak acres of crystal
in the high wilderness of fir and grizzly,
burying the trees and crags of the
inaccessible mystery in white.

And here, over the empire of emeralds,
they sweep and swell and
break apart and spill out
mighty rivers and silver lakes,
wash the air clean and
sift down through my willow tree,
bit by drop, sink from sight and
hurry to refill the ocean.

Caterpillar dawn

Caterpillar dawn
creeps across the ocean

Bye bye Blackbird

Last spring the laurel hedge by my window was empty
No chirruping, calling, no rustling of glossy leaves
No fledglings edging off the nest onto twigs and then the adjacent fence
No wobbling and frantic flapping as parents patiently cajole
No triumphant flights to the Rose bushes
Only to tumble to the grass
As the chosen twig was too thin

Too hot, too hot

Like tracks in the snow
Little lives go
In our melting

Copyright © 2020 Kim Whysall-Hammond

https://thecheesesellerswife.wordpress.com/

Diamonds II

Nature’s hand came calling
in our garden yesterday
Left little diamond clusters
for us as if to say
This was its way of saying
that there’s beauty everywhere
and if we just look around us
we will find it waiting there

-07.11.19_00:59-

Bitten by the cold,

Abrupt temperature change,

-03.10.19_00:29-

Quickly across the street
Reddish-brown flash

Ghost Ocean

Waves throw up on the shore
remnants of ocean lives
tangles of plastic
debris from both sides
of a blurring boundary.
Revealing hints of the diversity underneath
and of the death we impose.

Copyright © 2019 Kim Whysall-Hammond

https://thecheesesellerswife.wordpress.com/

 

Tri-haiku XX (Circular Green)

This circular green
Grown, cut back, abundant now
as summer takes hold

This circular green
A comfort true and fragrant
These summer senses

This circular green
With me, part of me, in me
I am in summer

Sunday in Spring

Two fields over, Rooks argue
a raucous parley that
goes on and on and on
while other birds sing prettily