nature

A Different Kind of Crimson

~ ~M ~ 22 Comments

All the days began and ended with crimson,
whether flowing with an abundance of tangerine
or saturated with the soft hues of saffron,
depended mostly on the seasonal viridian.
The afternoon sky never changed though, always a pale azure.
Why couldn’t it ever be a shade of purple like amethyst?

She’d always delighted in things of amethyst,
and as all days began and ended with crimson,
she accepted the fact that she’d always face the effects of azure.
In the lull of the day, she’d close her eyes and see lazy shades of tangerine,
but opening them once more; she was snapped back to the views of viridian.
Sometimes the sweeping countryside was painted yellow like saffron;

harvest time was the beginning of the days of saffron.
She wondered why the meadows couldn’t ever be lilac like amethyst;
for now, they were a lovely shade of viridian.
And as the day moved along, there came creases of crimson
with its various placid shades of tangerine.
The blue from earlier didn’t seem so bad now; what was wrong with azure?

Yet deep in her heart, she knew the answer to azure,
and as her hair glowed in the last light of saffron,
and as the day passed over with a faint tinge of tangerine,
she laid back and dreamt of a world colored in amethyst.
The following day, she was awoken by streams of crimson,
and out in the far-off distance, shown waves of vivacious viridian.

But as the winds blew east to west, casting shadows on its viridian,
the sky began to blacken, turning a darker shade of azure.
Then the poppies swayed, brilliant in their beds of crimson,
each little face marked boldly with a fleck of saffron.
And against the foreboding sky, still absent of amethyst,
a bolt of lightning struck in trembling tangerine.

The whole landscape then unfurled, transforming to tangerine.
Black plumes of smoke choked out all the velvety viridian,
and in the wake of disaster came a sudden array of amethyst.
Fiery fields full of bloodthirsty life blotted out any hope for azure
and wilted away the soon-to-be season of saffron.
All was cursed now in the vilest of crimson.

She stood and prayed for the sky to regain conscious efforts of azure.
Sadly, the waves of fortitude would not yield its season of saffron.
Patchworks of hopefulness died that day in a different kind of crimson.

© 2023 Michelle Cook

Photo credit: https://pixabay.com/illustrations/trees-countryside-painting-6573250/

This poem is called a Sestina. If you’d like to learn how to write your own, this site gives some good examples. 😉 ~M

How to Write a Sestina (with Examples and Diagrams)

Late Autumn

~ ~M ~ 23 Comments

Damp and decaying like timeworn leather, the
wind stirs each fossilized apparition.
Holding fast against the sultry winds of
time; clinging, dependent, on limp limbs. These
creaky extremities reach for silhouetted faces,
haunting shadows with limited life. And in
withered strain feeble fists persevere, while the
sufferings of the season wilt within the crowd.
Littering the pavement like languorous petals,
inky remembrances of rosier days pass on.
In the bleakness of the night with a
shudder and a sigh, wasting away in the wet
rot of decomposing rainbows. Now black
and spoiled against the barren bough.

© 2023 Michelle Cook

 

*Golden Shovel Poetry Writing Exercise
The only rule for this type of poem is that each word of your source poem must appear as the last word of each line in your poem—and they should be in the order that they appear in the original. Your poem will contain as many lines as your source poem has words.

Here’s the poem I chose to use. (So if you read down my poem, the end of each line uses all these words in order.)

In the Station of the Metro

The apparition of these faces in the crowd:
Petals on a wet, black bough.

by Ezra Pound


Photo credit: https://pixabay.com/photos/branches-tree-black-and-white-rain-4621320/

Glum?

~ ~M ~ 28 Comments

Look out your window;
what do you see?

Certainly, birds must be chirping
so cheerily.

So why can’t you
do the very same?

Look up at the sky
and adjust your frame.

Focus on the view,
take it all in.

Find the joy
where it’s always been.

© 2022 Michelle Cook

Photo credit: https://pixabay.com/photos/photoshop-young-woman-sky-field-4405807/

She rests…

~ ~M ~ 15 Comments

She rests along the horizon,
easily seen from the thirsty shore,
and with a face like an angel,
she could never be ignored.

Her body is ever-changing
as she basks in the summer sun,
and her golden peaks glisten
while her vistas promise fun.

She lays in silent stillness;
never a tremor does she sigh.
The world tramples upon her,
though she never questions why.

She often cries a flood of tears;
still, her strength does prevail,
and even though she’s antiquated,
her beauty never fails.

Nestled comfortably in the earth,
she’s withstood the test of time,
and even though some mar her face,
she still beckons them to climb.

She’s served as a place of renewal
and become a much-needed haven;
she even shares her home
with all the raptors and the ravens.

Exquisite in her gilded grandeur,
layered with the etchings of the past,
her purpose is apparent,
and her glory was made to last.

© 2022 Michelle Cook

Midsummer’s day

~ ~M ~ 32 Comments

There’s magic to be found
on this midsummer day;
quiet reflections prevent it
from skittering away.

Gilded rays of light
affectionately dance;
it seems almost as if the sun
is looking for romance.

The rippling river responds,
flowing joyously round the bend,
sweeping along sparkling waters
which seem eager to descend.

Dainty green grasses dot
the edges of the stream,
always the perfect place
to curl up and dream.

Breath held deep,
eyes shut good and tight,
yet even behind closed lids,
the sun still shines so bright.

The larks seem unbothered,
flying straight overhead,
collecting more fluff
for their soft downy beds.

Cracking an eye
at the snap of a stick,
a pudgy little lizard
scurries away so quick.

Lifting to lean,
face cupped in hand,
fighting the obligation
to get up and stand.

Gaze suddenly caught
by unexpected delight,
endless rows of sunflowers
stretching towards the light.

Energized by excitement
as more wonders abound,
amazed by the brilliance
while looking around.

Every curiosity of nature,
free for all to share,
nothing else in this life
can ever compare.

© 2022 Michelle Cook

Photo credit: https://pixabay.com/photos/trees-riverbank-summer-nature-6541315/