THE ART OF LOVE

Love casts out fear, it has been said
but I have never been as scared
as when I loved and gave my heart
to love's power and to its art.
To what folly have I been ensnared?

Alone, I fly free, as a bird
leading its wings to paths it dared
fly, with no one to lose or hurt.
Love casts out fear -

in soothing tones, it calls, I learned
and followed where my soul love steered - 
a full life seen from all its parts
as its Maker had planned.  His art,
Love, casts out fear.


~~~~~

Written for PAD Challenge - Day 3 - "_____________ of Love"
Linking with DVERSE OPEN LINK NIGHT

An attempt at writing a Rondeau.

MAGNOLIA


My beauty lasts but a short time
and all I have, to you I give -
     My velvet blooms, capture in rhyme
     My beauty lasts but a short time
Before rains make my death knells chime
     I hope I lived my cause to live
My beauty lasts but a short time
and all I have, to you I give.


~~~~

For dVerse's POetics:  From Nature's Point of View

SPRING MORNING

Sundrenched mornings open the day
 sprinkling  diamonds on  sleepy grass
as mist lifts and then   dissipates
puffing the clouds dotting azure skies.

Sparrows twitter up on the trees,
glossy feathers waving in the wind
their bellies filled with early worms
once working on the warming ground.

Silken threads swing from budding twigs
luminous in the spreading light
bearing caterpillars searching 
for   some tender leafy delight.

Shadows recede and colors blur
as busy  folks rush through the day
but the ancient trees stand their ground
to weave  lace with their bursting buds. 


For DVerse's Meeting the Bar, Bjorn wants folks to write a poem inspired by impressionism.  I do not know if I cleared the bar, but it was sure fun thinking of spring. :-) 


SPRING (A Quadrille)


 Spring is
        overrated.
       It is melting 
            snow
                 and 
                     dirt
          muddying up the ground;
             puny greens
                 pushing out
                     with their leafy might.
 Could I help
 hasten the process -
               make flowers bloom
                    faster
                       than they should?
 Waiting is
    a burden 
           yielding 
           its 
        fruit
 in due season.

DVERSE POETS QUADRILLE # 28 – The word is “Spring”

BRIDAL BOUQUET

boquet-small

You covered my hands with beauty
you lifted the hopes of my soul
while we walked down the altar
to pledge myself to my love's call

How nervous our steps were  but
you covered my hands with beauty
concealed the trembling of my bones
that a radiant smile eyes would see

You witnessed new life being built
by two hearts vowing to be one
You covered my hands with beauty 
and thus enhanced their offering

You are now but gossamer skin
in the folds of my gown. To me 
No flower could be more precious-
You covered my hands with beauty.

DVERSE POETS’ Poetics Prompt: One Memento

P.S.  The above flowers are not the flowers referred to here.  They were tulips that we picked out from a grocery store the night before our wedding.  I would have loved to have roses but by then the roses have completely sold out because of Valentine’s Day.

ON THE STREET WHERE WE LIVE

my-street

Outside my window there are the same roads
there are the same people walking their dogs
There's old Mr. Magazoo taking his morning walk
and stopping by our neighbor's for some small talk

There are the old houses with bolted doors
standing on our street like abandoned forts
lurking unnoticed by cars zipping by
faster than the speed of two minutes per mile

Our place is  mostly quiet at this time of the year
when most everyone seems to disappear
inside thick coats,  behind insulated walls
as chilly  wind blows and heavy snow falls

Yet on Thursday nights the sidewalk sprouts
trash bins so full they are  ready to burst
but for  the old lady pulling  a  kiddie wagon
collecting  redeemable plastic  and soda cans.

Late in the mornings, the mailman comes
by our barking dog, he is announced
delivering store fliers, bills, and junk
and the occasional boxes  from Amazon.

Oh! Spring just cannot come soon enough
to fill the ground with dandelions and buttercups
to make the air groan with the mower's roar
and return the  blossoms back in their bower.

There will be the parade of mothers, their kids in tow
to the not-so-nearby playground, they will go
passing  green-thumbed folks tending their gardens 
to plant some petunia, geranium, and impatiens.

Before then, I wait – watching the melting snow
listening to the engines throbbing as they go
With any (ill) luck, some unusual thing  occurs
such as  screaming breaks and totaled cars. 

~~~~~

Written for:  DVerse Poetics - Suburb Poetry