As veils all slowly lift,
Clouds in slickest swirls shift,
Slide, evenly horizons clear,
Lights flicker, plain and purl,
The shades of biscuity gold wicker.
Thin spikes, each kneading a sunbeam,
Soon gloriously wade the wind, themselves all calm.
In spite of the uproar, like in print an entire ream,
They land pointedly as a psalm.
They land neatly, solidly in my palm.
editors note: Sometimes, when we catch'em, they look like this; makes us try to catch another. - mh clay
On plates that ring in plenty comes each overture
Like foundling season ready to lavish expand ,
The top patch on which we stand, the beautiful curvature,
Gives but a glimpse of expanse all round, the whole land.
What beauty there is in sheer great doses
Iced, spun like constellations at night at its core,
Our planet’s many mysteries that fathoming proposes
The world idyll we see, the country on its open door.
Like orchestras overwhelm us, all opulence offered,
A banquet’s delectables in huge quantities,
A heady night’s music, all nuances proffered,
In its all-revealing stamp of exalted sanctities.
A colony of gannets in full swing impressive flight
Look as though they’ve temporarily forgotten their breeding sites.
editors note: Enough to make us forget our nesting site, too. Fair land. (We welcome Saloni to our crazy congress of Contributing Poets with this submission. Read more of her madness on her new page – check it out.) - mh clay
In most regimes, most regiments, work or pleasure,
Where hierarchy comes into play
But in what counts, in combat fair
Giving measure then for measure
They levelly beat the lights out of day.
Sophistication, elegance reigns
In the upper class like sugar crunch caviar munch
Till it’s time for one upmanship
Ah then who cares
It’s punch for punch
All whole swing, free for all, all unzipped.
Exchange of ideas
On the other hand as it ought
Like conversation cool
Is meted out gentlemanlike to peers
Thought for thought
Where we play by the rules.
Businessmen and marketeers
Exploit imagination’s stream.
Silver or gold plated
There they go selling dear
Dream for dream
To all (and sundry) unmitigated.
editors note: Bottom line growth is nothing funny. Imagination - equality, sophistication, ideas - are great if they make money. - mh clay
Like words fixed in time on empty page,
Some images tucked away that only we see,
The mind that writes sees all at every stage
And streamlines all till taken is all space free.
A blank sheet, like a pretty face, beckons
Intelligence to give it life, calls for pen’s gold
And the writer a tale to tell that reckons
It’s time for beauty hid to be extolled.
Keeping old fleeting dreams tidily at bay
To get on with the act, there’s a purpose implied;
There’s scarcely any point procrastinating day
When the sun’s overpowering as perfume or high tide.
At such times one wonders, is endeavouring the essence,
When poetry spontaneous has so liquid an omnipresence.
editors note: We are soaked in our grasping; trying to swim or, at least, tread water. - mh clay