Icy waves ravage the shore
before returning for more.
Soaring birds ride the mighty towers,
refusing to yield to their powers.
Dolphins coast in the swells,
ignoring the death bells.
Tides hit the rocks
with frozen blocks.
They plow through the sand
with sharp claws in hand.
Momentum without end;
A force we cannot bend.
I accepted the challenge on Linkedin to write a new version of A Perfect Summer Day that rhymes; now, it’s a love poem.
Broad brushstrokes of blue and gray
Meet to greet the perfect day.
The meandering swipes of teal
Mirror how you make me feel.
The foaming white swells drift apart,
As your kiss lingers in my heart.
My fingers reach for the brush,
But I tell my mind to hush.
No painting needed today
To capture the perfect day.
Nature speaks of the time
When you were only mine.
Portovenere, Italy ~ Luca Libralato
Brushstrokes of blue and gray
outline the puffy clouds.
Broad swipes of teal and aquamarine
meet the neverending horizon.
Swells of purest white
rise from the blue depths.
As my fingers reach for the canvas,
my gaze travels to the brushes,
and I shake my head.
No painting is needed
to capture the perfect day.
I stare around me
at nature’s perfect handiwork.
As I walk in a field of bluebonnets,
I desire to compose for them sonnets.
The sweet fragrance fills my soul
until I am again whole.
I’m tired, but I smile
like I’ve walked a mile.
I’ll make my flowered bed
and rest my weary head.
My thoughts drift below,
somewhere over the rainbow.
Source: aqua-regia009
Seek, and you shall find
what the mind may hide.
Follow the soft sighs
to where the bird flies.
Dig deeper into your dream
as you float with the stream.
Time will never end
nor will it ever bend.
Enjoy the here and now
as I give my last bow.
What does it feel like to fly,
Rising to meet the blue sky?
Soaring to a new height.
A bird’s exclusive right.
Alone and soaring high,
Nary a cloud in the sky.
Take me along with you, please.
What can I do to appease?
The wind will ruffle my feathers.
I will fly without any tethers.
I will fly over the land
To the tune of a marching band.
Source: weheartit.com
A bit of fluttering
tickles your fingers.
Antennas search for sound
as wings take flight.
It leaves too soon
on the puff of a breeze.
For one precious moment,
you hold life in your hand.
Ice Fire
Cold.
Icy cold.
My toes feel numb.
My fingers tingle.
The wind howls.
Sleep tempts me.
But I must continue.
A few more steps.
Silence wraps its arms around me.
I raise my face to the sky.
The colors take my breath away.
A living and breathing sculpture.
It entices us.
It bemuses us.
It challenges us.
But most of all,
it inspires us.
Portovenere, Italy ~ Luca Libralato
Brushstrokes of blue and gray
to outline the puffy clouds.
Broad swipes of teal and aquamarine
to meet the neverending horizon.
Swells of purest white
will rise from the blue depths.
As my fingers reach for the canvas,
my gaze travels to the brushes,
and I shake my head.
No painting is needed
to capture the perfect day.
I stare around me
at nature’s perfect handiwork.
SUSANNE LEIST 