Post No. 817
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Dark & Light
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Darkness conceals the night
Stillness weighs heavy as the grave
A lone(ly) bird breaks the silence
Kwa-keh he calls but to no avail
Kwa-keh
Quiet replies
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Yesterday the dark was light
The air sheer as the wind blew
Birds slept in silence
Rocked by the trees
Boughs creaked in protest
Throughout the forest
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©Denise G Allen, 08 June 2015 11:02
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‘twas a wild, wild wind,
a wily, capricious
wind from the west,
its mischievous
spirit wavering, teetering
‘tween destruction and
obstruction – construction
not an option!
thrust and pause,
howling and moaning,
keening and droning
until it slowed to a sighing
as daylight lifted its mood
and its temper subsided
which was all to the good.
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©Denise G Allen, 28 September 2014 12:27
Sunset
My beautiful trees
With their glorious leaves
Reach out to the sky ~
Branches bare ~
Like sticks in the air, resting
‘til the first sign of spring
Sends their sap rising
Rushing, gushing upward
Stirring from the depths of their being
While we’re still gibbering
And shivering with cold.
©Denise G Allen, 13 July 2014 03:44
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From the rich and verdant greens
To bare rocks and mountain tops,
Waterless rivers with exposed beds
To those in flood, with banks of mud,
Infertile sand where naught will grow,
Deserts dry and baked by heat
Where the wind creates its art,
Grasslands and bushes of scrub,
Lakes and seas, reflecting
The breeze, a thousand trees
And animals galore with birds
And fish to complete the scene,
Flowers of every shape and hue,
Strong or delicate to touch or view,
Our earth is God’s garden,
Unequalled and unrivalled by man,
Original, unique and diverse
As only He can devise,
We have to maintain and sustain
This unequivocal treat for our eyes.
©Denise G Allen, 20 May 2014 14:48
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Surrounded by birds,
The gentle morning chorus
Of twitters and chirps,
Overlaid by a cacophony
Of screeches and screams –
I yearn for the power to paint
In multiple colours of music ~
The magical sounds that I hear.
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©Denise G Allen, 06 February 2014 02:00
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I think there’s a link between the sunrise
and the blue skies and the birds’ cries.
When I lie in bed I can hear when the sky is clear…
The raucous cries of the larger birds tear me from my sleep,
while the smaller chirps and cheeps try their hardest to compete ~
all this in the darkest night before the sun even shows himself awake ~
but I know, I can tell, a beautiful day awaits.
In the same way, when the birdsong is muted
and the screams have lost their harshness,
I know, I can feel, that a gentle day is in the offing,
perhaps with showers and a softening in the air.
How can any deny our Father when the proof is always there
and nature sings His praises for all the world to hear?
Are we ‘accidental’ beings and our world a chance MIS-take?
It’s preposterous to think that this could be the case!
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©Denise G Allen, 14 January 2014 06:44
Edited
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So many birds have missing feet,
Misshapen claws, fused into a lump, a clump…
Crippled… but no one cares.
They hop, hop, hop from here to there,
Pecking at the ground ~~
It’s all about survival!
I see the same ones day after day
But it’s the first few days post injury that count
The brave struggle – that’s what it’s about,
Persistence despite the pain
Until it becomes a part of existence
So one can’t remember how it was before
And one feels normal again.
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©Denise G Allen, 07 January 2014 07:13
Shades – Trees
Edited
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Shades
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Shades of green with blue and gold
Block out more than half the sky ~
Magnificent trees, some young, some old,
With leaves that whisper in the breeze.
They sway, they bounce, they flounce,
Coquettish moods become apparent,
But then again they can be fierce
And whip themselves into a fury.
Sheltering birds take fright, take flight
Away from these bad tempered giants
Whose harbour was no longer offered,
Whose comfort was no longer proffered.
However, with the passing of the storm
I looked up at the leaves of varied hue,
At the sky of palest blue, and was
Surprised
To find
A passing bird spit in my eye!
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Image and poetry: ©Denise G Allen, 05 November 2013 08:15
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There’s a fine mist
kissed by the snow on my head
while brain fried, cotton-wool dyed
birds fly high in the sky;
they screech through the leaves,
crash into branches of trees
and winter’s dry twigs
break as they shake to the ground.
Darkness descends from above,
and the air quivers… lightning shivers…
the birds calm down, they make no sound,
waiting… waiting… for the thunder
to rupture, to fracture, the peace.
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©Denise G Allen, 20 October 2013 11:59
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The sounds of birds
fill the air everywhere,
CHattering, chITTering, TWITTering,
ScrEAMs, hOOts and kwAAKs.
Listen and hear,
bring to the fore(ground)
of your ear.
Hark hark the lark,
the HAdeDAs
and the little LAdeDAs,
background music
whilst we work.
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©Denise G Allen, 16 February 2013 09:50
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