Nature’s Forces

How rumbles the earth torn by forces – lava’™s flame spewing its own into the sea unable to contain such violence – now unchained So builds a mountain from the deep to rise, to rise it now knows why ‘“ with a hiss and a sigh to breath the air to see the sky Ahh! A playground for sea-creatures, new A wonder just for me and you.

Who loves not flowers of colours gay and loves not what they have to say? Yet their colours bright were not for us but for the bee – or perhaps a moth! Now in a vase humbly in their hues nostalgically they sigh for the night’™s soft dews. Never will one bear a seed and just because of human greed. Never to reach a goal endowed Just to mourn – to make men proud – A pleasure that’™s so soon gone ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘  Then to a collection bin be thrown!

Wild water raging, racing, tumbling, pouring ‘˜round black rocks shining, guiding, holding fast waters swirling laughing, gurgling down and racing to a supreme desire ‘“ then falling ‘¦ falling through air now laughing holding, breaking their fall to droplets tiny, shiny, sparkling shouting in delight and when they sight a rainbow, gleaming, enchanting boasting colours only rainbows know to do the waters delight in a roar as they crash in a rush that drowns all sounds except their own among gleaming rocks that steadfastly calm this ecstasy of delight and guide them to a deep, deep pool where the waters cease their madding drive and breathe deep to calm their raging soul. Then with a quiet that speaks of peace …

Two flowers met on a hill in spring Did we not meet last year for our brief a-fling? Red was I then, just as you are blue And we sang in the choir of so many a hue I remember you well – you are so bright And we danced in the wind in joyous delight I pray we will meet once again next year When with dew drop on petal we again reappear

The English lane twists this way, and that Certain is the very uncertainty of where you’re at; They go round and about and back again – One may be driven quite insane! And I’m sure I’ll always wonder so, How the English know just how to go – And, what a pity, where the’  tree is lush, Drowned in the traffic is the song of the thrush. But out and away from the busy sound The peace of England wraps me around – Here I live and breathe again – There’s nothing more lovely than an English lane.

From behind a woolly cloud Spring peeks and then laughs out aloud While winter in wet and icy pride Weeps a tear- then seeks to hide A bud opens, blinks, peeps at the sun Come dance with me,’  where’s everyone? ‘œI’m here!’ – ‘œMe too!’’  So others shout And in fancy dress the field is out And suddenly the land’s in light A thousand blossoms’  – what a sight! And children sing and wood- chucks call ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘  The very oldest song of all.

They scurry up in a cloud of wings The traffic roars – things to be done! What value there in the life of a dove? The value of a falling feather. Last moments upon the embankment are plunged away Two others, nearby pecking’  unconcerned or mute assistance to a passing life?

There are those deaf to everything but noise Sounds that beat on a drum E’™en the music that sweetens But where are those that hear the sound of love the beat of the heart in need Whe’™re they that hear the sound of the rising sun or moon the laughter of trees and bees and of flowers too Hear their cries when plucked or felled After which is heard but ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘  silence

The poetry of silence – words unspoken breaths of morning in oakened mountains whispering Fresh drops falling from silent leaves The poetry of silence of morning mist caressing oakened valleys in a sun-kissed dawn. And I, in canopied depths alone in’  darkened silence in fresh intoxicating beauty surrounded by this magic of overpowering majesty this dewy dampness its breathing in and breathing out this breath of life ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘  this silent poetry.

Oh! the powers that wheel the world That turn a leaf to face the sun That grind the flint to motes of dust That flings a star to endless flight That gives the firefly its flick of light That spins our world and brings the night Oh! The powers given me ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘ ‘  That all these wonders I should see