Tag: green

Leaf, changing

Published on by annwjwhiteLeave a comment

You were green once,

As the sun peeked above the horizon,

You stepped from your bud,

Exploded in color, racing your brothers and sisters,

Reaching to the clouds,

Drinking their tears.

You grew, blessed by light and warmth,

The summer brought drought,

Hot rays of radiation from the yellow

Globe of eternal life and death.

You survived. Turning upside down as

The heat beat upon your epidermis,

Your skin, and you released gases to the sky

When it cooled at night,

Protecting the mobile creatures who 

Rested beneath you.

Then the world cooled, and days

Brought a rainbow of change.

Possessed by the wild of glory,

You dressed for a ball 

In colors no one could miss, 

That no one would miss,

For you radiated the history

Of a growing season.

The wind came and teased you,

“Take flight, join me, whirl with me,

Twirl with me, spin and dance,

Chase the clouds, travel the world

Toward the sea.” So you did. For an eternity

The world danced beneath you until,

When the cold rain fell upon you,

Exhausted, you fell to the ground.

Mourning the end of your life,

You surrendered to the inevitable end.

Then hoar frost stole upon you that night,

Like a fairy godfather or mother,

Glistening you, crystalizing upon you,

And glorious, like a diamond,

You knew beauty again.

March, March, Left and Right

Published on by annwjwhite3 Comments

The Friday Reminder and Prompt for #SoCS Mar. 25/17

a

A marching band, that
Is where I spent the happy
Hours of growing up.
Finding the after beats,
Honking on a horn of silver.
Marching in Minnesota,
California, Oregon,
Las Vegas, all over Alaska,
Maryland and Pennsylvania.
I loved to march
Watching those with battered
Lips, lick them in quick
attacks by the tongue
Which would really rest
On a concert stage with Carol Channing.
Loved the changes in season
And when we marched in the
Chinese New Year's parade
In San Francisco, and the
Tuba players had firecrackers
Tossed in the bell to
Drive the evil spirits
Of military service out.
We marched at openings,
Closings, and when we 
stood still, the world cheered.
I loved to march wearing
Orange and black,
Green over green,
Left foot, right foot,
Straw foot, hay foot,
Angles and diagonals
Squares of precision.
I always thought that
The band would hold together 
Over time. But they marched
Away, each to their own pace.
I'm a victim of moonlit hair
That pretends to color,
Looking at the stars 
In a cold March night,
And dreaming of the cadence
Of drums, beating and beating
And bb ee aa t i n g g g g
As they march out of sight and sound
Disappearing into time.
I dream of marching into the stars
Lit for all times 
If you would just look up.
Can you hear the tune?
The brass, woodwinds,
And the percussive beat
Of living a life.
Percussion leading me
In living every day
With the guidance of
The drum major pounding
In my ears. Boom bah boom
Bah, Boom. Then we rest.

Arid: Reflections on a Morning

Published on by annwjwhite2 Comments

https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/arid/

Morning comes with stale coffee lingering in the air.

Dogs in and out, and in, then out. Two words erupt.

Then fall to pieces as likely to grow as limestone.

The cord is missing, my laptop still and thoughtless.

Bright sun burns my eyes, warms my hair,

Overheats the brain straining to find a foothold

In actions positive and bright. But the morning hour,

With its teasing laughter, places me in an arid state.

Atmosphere, dry as my mouth,  nothing  grows today.

Pages to remain blank. Inkless as the well in which

I dip my pen while seeking some other way,

I wish to be in the barren deserts of sand in

Timbuktu, where treasures lie beneath,

Hidden for centuries. Their gift? Knowledge

For the eyes of Africa, hidden from the French,

Manuscripts of jeweled splendor, golden highlights,

Speaking of mysteries solved long ago.

Surrounding a barren land with science, government, humanity.

Like cacti, needling those who would steal their worth.

These documents from the twelfth century, thirteenth,

Fourteenth, Fifteenth. Poetry of the stars to linger.

I would linger in the libraries and ponder how, in an arid desert,

The jewels of creativity could bloom and grow.

I would dally at the question posed of a green world.

How could I, in the setting of new leaves and buds,

Think myself without the soil of imagination?

Such a silly thought that morning is more dry, than the

Deserts of Mali or the great Sahara. Perhaps tea

to motivate and enervate? Or a simple peeled orange?

 

Thinking Green

Published on by annwjwhite5 Comments

The world, a single landmine,
found in a solar system of beauty.
Ordered by nature to change,
the leaves fall, sprout, grow and dream
of what life would be like
if we danced with the rules of nature,
If we protected with our careful steps.
I saw a wave, long and sensual,
White caps spilling into sand
Loading lighthouses, lighting them.
If we tread carefully, perhaps,
just perhaps, someone will defuse our danger
and allow skipping to flourish.