kiss

it was nothing more than a rainy day
which brought these branches to the ground,
cacophony of falling water splits bark,
plucks blossoms
before they bloom.

she knew all this,
from her vantage under the bridge,
expecting the water to rise.

but instead she found a world mesmerized
by its own chaos--
a river from the sky pouring
just steadily enough
to leave no room for interpretation:
this was the end,
with nothing to cling to

but she remained ankle-deep in the mud,
bare calves flushed grey with rising chill.
it was the progression that most pleased her,
as the tingling crawled up her skin
like cool fingers leaving numbness
in their wake,

as they took from her
all that she was and freely gave,
and left her with nothing but
the taste of indifference on her lips.

for this flow would sweep past
even without her to be carried by it.

--
Title and the rainy day by the creek are prompts. Make that two not poetry days.

boss

a splash of red shouts authority
to the timid pastel sighs of spring.
as branches open slowly to the sun
he is gone--a flash of wings in motion
and a call that shivers from crown to roots.

he rises as a shape against the sky
to break apart the florid silhouettes;
feet caught in bark, he hangs sipping freedom,
knowing power comes of more
than just the color spilling from his brow:
the keen senses that overtake the afternoon monotony--
no lazy warmth to be found in the green
as each moment is spent in competition with
the rest of the world
that wakes from long winter with the want
to fly again.

--
Title is semi-prompt, in that it made me look for something assertive to pair it with. I chose this picture.

empty

casual wilt gives petals to wind
as spring is come and gone in one
snap of frost; flash of snow
melting green from trees
and weaving fragile new sprouts together
in a desperate bid for warmth.

I sit in the aftermath
sipping the warming air, slowly
between my teeth--
trying to taste that elusive sweetness
of blossoms on the breeze.


I slept last night to the empty call
of winter sunset, spread across my lawn,
and expected to wake to the same.
but morning came with a clamor,
senses filled with the boisterous calm
of nature's strength--persevering growth,
as once showy garlands
find their footing again,
and spread brazen arms to the sun.

--
For whatever reason, there was no instapoem prompt for today, so this title prompt fit as well as anything. I think I've fallen back into my 'easy' nature description poems again--I want to try and branch out into different forms, because I feel like I'm just using the same tired imagery over and over again, and no longer telling stories.

shy

water brought an island something to believe in,
more than just a man caught by the winds,
this captured life glorified, described
by the stories
of the pagoda.


as the budding branches above me swirl
and make an ocean of air,
I wonder if the wind-crashing waves of sound
could propel my own dreams higher;
take flight
matching pace with the calls of the gulls
no longer out of place.

as the sky threatens to drown these hopes,
shattering storm into rain,
I wait for it to carry me away.
for the place my life is traveling to
seems to be the wrong destiny--
let ocean currents break these sails
and take me to open sea,

bring me to a place I can live
without my history--
anonymity; and with my death
create legend
from the quiet storm-tossed traveler.


winds of chance once brought man to the stars;
perhaps the spring rain
could do the same for me.


--
Title is prompt, as is this wiki article and the awesome storm that came up as I sat in the car today, tossing the branches in the tree above me so much that they really did sound like ocean waves.

puppet

birdsong echoes across out-of-place snow,
sparrow waking cold to the chill of bowed limbs
held tight to ground
with arch of frozen white, caught mid-fall
and full winter

captured branches waiting
for tenuous breaths of morning
to warm what the night made of green,
to scissor-melt these fragile strings
and weave a net of soft water sound
to cast into the clouds,
bringing back the steady patter of spring.


healing rain to mend broken bark--
shatter snap of freezing melt,
where the drips hang frozen in the space of yesterday,
reflecting where spring had found her perch
only briefly;

moments of heat and green glossed over
by the temperament of a single sparkling storm,
giving dawn something spectacular to break across
for perhaps the last time
this season.


--
Title is prompt, as is the storm that brought over eight inches of snow when just two days ago I was getting sunburned in the 70 degree heat. The three am backyard was like something out of faerie: bright enough to read by, pure white sky and muffled silence, the branches large and heavy with white, and the tickling of feathery snow falling gently on my face.