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Midday heat
the slow downward spiral
of a leaf
black butterfly
wings still damp
from the tomb
cooling breeze
the black-throated green warbler’s
other song
Poems on the topic: breeze
Poems on the topic “breeze” on Poets.by.
Self defense
Misheard voices,
Falling walls.
No eavesdropping,
Through slammed doors.
In the attic,
Windows open.
Fresh air gently,
Reminds me I'm broken.
If a breeze,
Can make me stumble.
I'm too weak,
To deal with trouble.
So when the hits,
Start raining down.
I hope one day,
I can defend myself.
Haiku 65
I lie still…
game breeze
combs my hair
I’m a poor host–
some of my books
can’t stand up straight
Rain…?
Or just wind
clacking the leaves?
Slow July…
water pauses
in the sink
Downtown Jesus…
spiderweb,
cheek to shoulder
Lying flat…
Haiku
My old enemy,
Grown his thick bushy red beard
In the five years since.
String of white tinsel,
Strung between two thin branches
Bowing to the breeze
Her naked bottom
Visible in a white flash
Gone to thunder now.
Electric fan blast
Cave-cold in my left armpit
DVD skipping.
I watch the traffic
Or, did, until tall condos
Replaced the yoga barn
How strange, to have come
Her name is Happiness
You never know from where a breeze would waltz in
And when.
In the sultry heat,
When trees bend their heads, looking so forlorn
And leaves curl
(There is such sorrow in watching them)
When street dogs scramble beneath shade
And lie panting
When clothes in the clothesline hang limp
Like mourners of the dead -
I -
In the centre of the crossroads
That extends to barren emptiness all around…
I hear the flutter of fallen leaves at my feet
And turn to look –
The breeze comes up, smoking.
LOST
As the deadly breeze sweeps the Earth again,
as it sweeps and takes dear life away,
as I hear the breeze vanishing in thin air...
I'm lost.
I wouldn't say that I understand,
I wouldn't say that I feel the pain,
I wouldn't want to be another phony in the way,
Because I'm lost.
It seems as if the breeze holds me down,
it seems as if I'm bound,
it seems I can't move towards a helping arm...
I'm lost.
Please understand, I ask no more than this,
that I can't live, live with what keeps me tied up in knots,
with hurt and as others, with all due respect, live.
I don't understand how I feel,
Haunting Echoes
The music dies upon the strings
But lingers on
Like other sweetly treasured things
Here once - and gone.
The breeze that blurs the mirror pool
Cannot erase
The outline of the forest cool
Upon its face.
The haunting fragrance of the flowers
Of yesterday
Not all the intervening hours
Can steal away.
And loving friends we used to know
Nor e’er forget
Although they left us long ago
Seem with us yet.
Intrusion
The lilies sag with rain-drops:
Their petals hold fire that does not break out.
(As though it slept between vapor-silk
It could not burn).
And a young breeze stumbles upon the lilies
And strokes them with his spinning hands....
The lilies and the young breeze are not unlike
Your silence and the rush of soft words breaking it.
Advice to a Grass-Blade
Thin and dark green symbol
Of an earth forever raising
Myriads of chained wings,
Breezes have a form, to you,
And sounds break into vivid shape.
The proud finality of tiny sight
Cannot lure your pliant blindness.
Thin and dark green blade,
Be not awed by trees and men
Whose sound is all that gives them life.
You reach the sky because your face
Is not turned toward it.
An April Day
On such a day as this I think,
On such a day as this,
When earth and sky and nature's whole
Are clad in April's bliss;
And balmy zephyrs gently waft
Upon your cheek a kiss;
Sufficient is it just to live
On such a day as this.
When the Leaves Fall
When the leaves fall off the trees
Everybody walks on them :
Once they had a time of ease
High above, and every breeze
Used to stay and talk to them.
Then they were so debonair
As they fluttered up and down ;
Dancing in the sunny air,
Dancing without knowing there
Was a gutter in the town.
Now they have no place at all !
All the home that they can find
Is a gutter by a wall.
And the wind that waits their fall
Is an apache of a wind.
Springtime
Again it is the vibrant May,
The bursting buds, the leafing trees,
The fragrant, undulating breeze,
Call to my heart in subtlest way:
Come! Come! it is a holiday.
The streamlet with unending song,
Beneath its silver veil of mist
Seems flowing, flowing, to some tryst,
While I—with inner surges strong,
Find incomplete the day, and long.
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