In June.
The warm sunny air trembles
so June fresh and summer soft
in the light and caressing flicker
about the field's flower-filled bosom.
The colorful flowers
surrounded by insects
waiting with open arms and enjoying
every breath that passes over the field
while the Butterfly soars
in its summer play and makes its appearance
in the waves of the blossoms,
where the fragrance rises spicy sweet,
and the air gently trembles
so June fresh and summer soft.
© TsL. 2023
#poems
TODAY: In 1947, American poet Jane Kenyon is born.
Otherwise
by Jane Kenyon
I got out of bed
on two strong legs.
It might have been
otherwise. I ate
cereal, sweet
milk, ripe, flawless
peach. It might
have been otherwise.
I took the dog uphill
to the birch wood.
All morning I did
the work I love.
At noon I lay down
with my mate. It might
have been otherwise.
We ate dinner together
at a table with silver
candlesticks. It might
have been otherwise.
I slept in a bed
in a room with paintings
on the walls, and
planned another day
just like this day.
But one day, I know,
it will be otherwise.
Reading Man
Gemälde, Aquarell auf Papier, 35 × 25 cm, 1909
He ate and drank the precious Words —
His Spirit grew robust —
He knew no more that he was poor,
Nor that his frame was Dust —
He danced along the dingy Days
And this Bequest of Wings
Was but a Book — What Liberty
A loosened spirit brings —
Poems published 1890 by Mabel Loomis Todd, T.W. Higginson (eds.)
#books #Bücher #lesen #reading
#AlbertAnker #genremalerei #malerei #Kunst #art #paintings #gemälde #peinture
#EmilyDickinson #Gedichte #Poems #Poesie
April's Muse!"!
As I walk through the spring garden,
I hear your soft sweet voice
in the blooming, soft aisles -
Singing sweet songs in my ears
April's muse,
You now walk in the garden of my soul!
Clusters of violets neighed nicely & blushed shyly
under the hedge - when you kissed them.
Saw you as you stood
with your fluttering hair,
which twinkled, like golden stars
around your body like sunshine threads.
Saw you,
staring into the windows of my living room,
as if you wanted to know
If my soul, too, was in bloom.
It is, - with the help of You..
© TsL. 2023
#poems
This one speaks to me this morning…perhaps because I’m seriously considering moving/changing my life…simplifying…downsizing…Spring is here....Rebirth...
On Moving
Jane Huffman
Like butter, gone. I’m moving on, because it would be ludicrous to stay. It feels like a return (to sanity), although I’ve never been. (I’ve never lived a mile west of Illinois.) “I come home from the soaring,” Rilke wrote in The Inner Sky, which I take as imperative (omit the “I”): to ground, return to Earth, to grind the fable of my life down like orpiment into a yellow ash and tie my body to the floor. Rilke writes of God (“still roaring in my ears”) but God, for me (today) is fear. Goodbye to my deteriorating house. Delirium. I’m out the door. Stasis is a sieve through which I drag myself.
Literature feels / far away. Black bulls grazing / beyond a pale hill.
“This is one poem in a series of modified haibun, a Japanese poetic form originated by the seventeenth-century poet Matsuo Bashō and practiced by generations of poets to follow, to whom I owe thanks. The haibun is traditionally a travelogue poem that combines prose and haiku; my version transverses the inner and outer landscapes.”
—Jane Huffman
Jane Huffman
Jane Huffman is the author of Public Abstract (American Poetry Review, 2023), winner of the APR/Honickman First Book Prize. The recipient of a 2019 Ruth Lilly and Dorothy Sargent Rosenberg Fellowship from the Poetry Foundation, she is the founder and editor-in-chief of Guesthouse, an online literary journal.
The pain of the world..
"From the tears of a Muse"
In a desolate landscape
on the plain's bloody snow -
The birds' heartbeats
turns into a silent grenade impact.
Now the bodies lie abandoned
enameled by the thin ice -
The latest temple figures
Shaped by unnatural ethics.
In my soul
is the stage lit -
Not of the shining stars of the night
but of the twinkling tears of humanity.
© TsL. 2023
#poems
an old one found while searching for Whistle Pigs
Strange Woman, Black Dog
*by Kenny A. Chaffin *
I think I’m having
trouble with language.
As we pass she hides her eyes
behind a floppy hat.
I ask to give
the dog a treat.
Her words are English
but they make no sense
as if the meaning is reversed
the sentence inside out
like the dog who seems
not a dog and not black
but a negative space absorbing
everything around him
tethered to her left hand
a black hole on a leash, smiling.
Each day now I pretend
I do not see them
but believe that somehow
I was sucked inside.
It’s the language
you see.
~ 2014
and another from my A Fleeting Existence collection
The Fall
by Kenny A. Chaffin
He lay broken at the bottom of the stairs
for three days before they found him.
The cats would rub against him
trying to get him to move –
even licking his face.
He’d broken his neck leaving him
unable to do anything but blink,
lick his lips, and swallow with difficulty.
n_n ^ #haiku 'd verson of this sentiment long beheld from my own high #sensitivity #experience
#canary #wisdom #poetry #575 #poem #poems #haikus #digitspoems #prudence #caution #wise #playitsafe
thought occurred while overhearing Chris Reck's bit here https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=N-_oMYIb2ds
sensitivity a gift, not a flaw.
when someone complains of something causing harm, wiser to heed their warning than abuse them in hubris and ignorance for being "weak".
Return of Spring!
Twilight bleached
I snuck out
Searching for light -
and then you suddenly arrived:
Oh, you sweet little blooming snowdrop
With a bent neck
You stood in the pure cloud of thawed snow
Oh, so colorful & with the carring refreshing call of spring.
You are finally here:
Dear Dawn Flower —
To the new and blessed
Return of Spring!
I welcome you wholeheartedly!
Instant child
- -
On a cosmos of soft satin
the eternal souls sail -
in an aria of perdition
with the rhythms of the universe.
Only they have seen the birth of creation
See it grow - in its beauty and timelessness.
I'm just an instant child
which borrows time from miracles -
with an inevitability
formed of flesh and death.
© TsL. 2023
#poems
Standby position..
Standing at the station,
along with the end of the year & short shadows
However, the seasonal train is delayed by chaos & war -
Some think it's just silly games with illegal fireworks
& there are even clear signs of bloodstain on the tracks -
So now the train is even more late
Arg, There is nothing worse than waiting..
Standing at the station,
along with clown-dressed politicians
On the way to new indifferent acting & broken promises
Some think it's just silly games with illegal fireworks
& there are even clear signs of bloodstain on the tracks -
So now their promises are more delayed
Arg, There is nothing worse than waiting..
© TsL. 2022
#poems
Snowy embrace..❄️
Oh, Decend softly and cover only ever so carefully
the cold, barren Earth!
Pure snow, oh, come as close as you will
while the Twilight grows.
Make light of snow
but quiet —
Since I'm so tired—
And embrace me
now, as my mind
is mild and feather-light.
Decend so white
and tender
and down-soft tight.
and embrace, yes embrace
in soft snowflakes
My body & soul..🕉️❄️
© TsL. 2022
#poems
Snow Queen's Kiss
November's amber fades away
Now, December's splendor hangs outside
Bringing forth, the lovely queen of the snow -
Wearing, luminous vivid snowflake dress
& a crown made of the finest ice crystals.
Please, kiss me lightly - on my blushing cheeks -
Kiss me gently, with your chilly lips -
When you arrive with your snow-covered smile.. ❄️
© TsL. 2022
#poems
Crystallized ice ❄️
There, in the silent city, by a chalky wind
I walk, while the dark night
sneaking across the freshly iced cobblestones.
In the dim alley
The sprinkling of leaves rustles
and the wet night-wind - comfortless silence
Dripping from the roof.
All is quiet, all is dark
now, when the summer foliage
tired of cold, pale of autumn -
Sinking into the icy dust
between the cracks of the cobblestones
Winter's mutterings have appeared
into my thoughts —
only my beating heart is heard - & now
Echoes, between ice-crystallized cobblestones -
Rhythmic drops of water,
which now has become
Crystallized ice ❄️
© TsL. 2022
#poems
Goosebumps & Squeaky sounds
Thou, fiery amber scent, now fades away
between bare trees in a bitter cold wind -
Alas now leaves disappear as they wither in autumn's breath -
Like, golden shards of frost, they lie on the road, bathed in nebulae & November haze
Making, low squeaking sounds.
On my lips were songs of change,
when i jumped
when I swung
Out here, in the goosebumps target range
And I sank and I rose
in a whirlwind season-changing play
and I drank a mixture of autumn & winter light
and my food was the air of coolness
and my soul, Trembling with goosebumps.❄️
© TsL. 2022
#poems