I want to meet those that inspire me to create something meaningful and kind with my existence.
Poem Fourteen ~ Little Flower
What are you doing, little flower?
You’re not supposed to be here.
This is not the place for your kind.
Stone cold concrete is paved here.
Small seeds aren’t supposed to grow.
The cracks in the sidewalk aren’t your’s.
The asphalt boils around here, tiny plant.
Smog is going to fill your cells with poison.
Organisms bigger than you walk around here.
You’re going to be plucked, picked, or weeded.
What will you do against unforgiving pavement?
I’ll give you that, little flower – you’re tougher than me.
Dandelion
Sinewy tendrils push
Apart a crack,
Minute and invisible
Moving closer to a surface
Of air, and water, and sun
Tender hairs wiggle
Soil into small canals,
Stretching out, reaching for
Space, and nutrients, and life
Spindles of green shoot
Upward straight trajectory
Toward the golden orb giving
Energy, and strength, and color
Miniature face of petals opens
Inviting arms in a circle of scent
Beaming out a “come hither” to
Lady bugs, butterflies, and ants
Precious fluffs of powdery
Hitchhikers cling to legs and backs
As a cycle continues by
Wing, and trek, and wind.
Dandelion
Lue
August 13, 2016
Pebbles on the Beach
soft sand
cooling water
blue sky breezes
treacherous path
to reach the sea
beauty Is veiled
by missteps
Poem 14
A concrete windowsill
on a house
a place where the caterpillar chose
to create its cocoon
on this day, breaks open
birthing a butterfly
which dries its wings, shaded,
by the brick house
Twilight enters the city
on the south side of St. Louis,
a street lined
with brick structures
overhead, a bat, smaller than
the chimney sweeps,
flies along, gobbling up
unsuspecting insects
At the office, outside the entryway
lies a bird, on concrete
black and white stripes,
along its breast, a yellow crown
on his head, dead,
the ants have begun to dine
killed by colliding
with tempered glass
Dragonflies, of majestic colors
in different sizes
slice through the parking lot
on silent wings
hovering,
over the cars
mesmerized
Prompt 14
To Serve and Protect
A young mourning dove
seeks police protection,
nests on the windshield
of a parked cruiser.
She gets umbrella coverage,
and as many fresh worms
as the officers can find.
Mom and chicks are well.
©Ardelle Hollis Ray
Nature poems
I sit in my room penning nature poems
The morning sun filtering through the chintz curtains
Oh the walk around the park
With my dog on a leash
The counted minutes on the manicured lawns
Its hot,kind of humid
The AC will take care of that
Then i can sit on my oakwood bed
To reminiscence over my last visit
To the luxury resort
The beautiful pines
The far off clouds
The guided trek
Nature is so beautiful
So bountiful
Says the gorgeous bird-o-paradise bouquet on my mantle piece
I recieved at the environmental association last night.
Bloodletting
Bloodletting
I ladle the
somber eyes of saskatoons,
the pucker of summer raspberry
in the blistered lattice of my palms.
Rotten teeth of sunrise
swallowing poplars like dancing cotton candy.
Pommels of dark trunks growl under their breath
along the cherry hallways, splashing leaves
in hurled gusts.
A stained purple on my hands,
sweat-laced in the shine
of blackberry taste buds,
sheltered thorn & the burnt bitter
the juice mingled in slight thumb bleed
sizzles steel on my lips.
I think of Northport as a tightness
in my eyes, how the lake tapers
into itself on the drive south, home,
a brightness intensified by my smallness
in open sky. I pluck the rain from its
furrowed brow & am drenched by
its rage & prayer. This year
we have to cut back the plum trees’
lanky branches, uproot Russian olives
before their shallow zeal crowds
the mountain ash.
A father’s limbs go sullen, dejected,
tomatoes along the barn where concussion blood
sprinkled the soil two years ago now.
Glasses grow wider, eyes narrow & dimmer.
I clutch sodden wood chips under toe
where wild turkey have clawed at the garden.
This could be my last year to touch
with nervous fingers the dewdrop coals
of cherries. While I haunt myself
in a place never to be mine,
I hope to return, with the
rise & fall of a season’s empire
as if I were just blinking.
Inspiration
While driving down the highway
Seeing a tree that is growing
Out of a rock bluff
No dirt to be seen
A person with disabilities
Who is making a difference
Motivates me to try harder
I am without their limitations
The words of scripture
Telling me that I am loved and accepted
That an unthinkable price was paid
For my salvation
A speaker, sharing their story
Of obstacle or tragedy
That I will never understand
But they have risen above it
Everyday people
Dealing with everyday problems
And finding a way to make it work
Against the odds
Friends
Who are always there
To motivate and encourage
Pushing me on to another goal
Inspiration
Can be found anywhere
If we are willing to stop
And look for it
A Chance for Change
World over, flowers grew
The storys told must be true
In colors grand, expansive
Now, the seas are black with tar
Trash fills what used to be forested
Why am I telling you this?
Well my little friend, you might save us
Your unknown sprout growing here inside
Green and beautiful in this darkness,
Contrasting against the death we’ve caused.