Junebugs
flutter and buzz
zapping themselves
against
the floodlight
silhouettes
of nearby trees
their branches
an endless
reaching
nature embraces coolness
after a swift rain
wet earth transforms smells
a soiled sensation in my nose
gentle wind tickles my skin
raggy
tall grass
epitomizes
upside down
bird feet
a rainbow left
its full spectrum
comet tail
dashing
between clouds
three quarter moon
is either shaped
from too much food
or is one quarter
pregnant
black sky
flashed
and busted its veins
summer monsoon
is coming
I wink
at the moon
and the moon
winks
at me back
the bullied moon
wears
a
swollen
black
eye
short petalled
yellow mums
jiggle under
the air-conditioner
they need full sunlight
scorching sun
fresh cut grass needs water
yellow mums need planting
I stay inside
it's too hot
newly planted
yellow mums
agree
with its new
planter home
on the side
of my shed
are purple flowers
too bad
they're on tall weeds
the weeds
are having a hey day
in my back yard
the grackles
don't mind
poor yellow mums
planted last week
choking heat
withered
them all
frail baby willow
half bare
the wind
blew away
part of its virtue
chubby sparrow
is playing
jungle bird
through
my tall grass
roasting sun
dries the grass
faster
than I
can water
Showing posts with label Nature. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Nature. Show all posts
Sunday, July 24, 2011
Saturday, May 14, 2011
New Haiku Poems
Mexican Elders
Growing like a wild fire
Birds hide, take refuge
Calico cat walks
Between the slats of my fence
Happy to see me
White dove on the line
Tail flips in jerky motion
Wet poo lands on grass
Finches, sparrows, doves
Happy hopping near sprinkler
Birds preening their wings
Spring is upon us
Water nourishes the earth
Hollyhocks growing
Oleanders froze
Careful cutting brings them back
New green stems emerge
Gray and white tabby
Prances out my front yard gate
Non-chalant and proud
Willow tree leaning
Forceful wind is the devil
Wood props hold it up
White plate for birdseed
Doves bully sparrows away
Sparrows watch for chance
Curious sparrow
Peeks in from my window sill
Sees me standing there
Telescope reveals
Deep crater on centerline
Half moon is half lit
Gray tabby cat hides
Half looks at me with one eye
Wanders on sidewalk
Fallen bird nest torn
Attaches to grass and weeds
Fine twigs are stuck there
Heat wave is coming
Horizon seeks time of day
Sunsets - pure beauty
Awesome turquoise sky
Bubblegum purple mountain
Color for my soul
Growing like a wild fire
Birds hide, take refuge
Calico cat walks
Between the slats of my fence
Happy to see me
White dove on the line
Tail flips in jerky motion
Wet poo lands on grass
Finches, sparrows, doves
Happy hopping near sprinkler
Birds preening their wings
Spring is upon us
Water nourishes the earth
Hollyhocks growing
Oleanders froze
Careful cutting brings them back
New green stems emerge
Gray and white tabby
Prances out my front yard gate
Non-chalant and proud
Willow tree leaning
Forceful wind is the devil
Wood props hold it up
White plate for birdseed
Doves bully sparrows away
Sparrows watch for chance
Curious sparrow
Peeks in from my window sill
Sees me standing there
Telescope reveals
Deep crater on centerline
Half moon is half lit
Gray tabby cat hides
Half looks at me with one eye
Wanders on sidewalk
Fallen bird nest torn
Attaches to grass and weeds
Fine twigs are stuck there
Heat wave is coming
Horizon seeks time of day
Sunsets - pure beauty
Awesome turquoise sky
Bubblegum purple mountain
Color for my soul
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
Desert Song
The desert knows no silence;
wind whispers a million legends.
It hears the wails and happiness
of those in the wild, breathing in
the same air, same spaces.
All meet the sky, moon,
rolling hills. Paws leave
impressions in fine soil,
at times scorching from sun,
cooling after rain and cloud cover.
Nature knows no boundaries except
where rain chooses to fall,
forming puddles so plants,
insects, and animals can drink
from the land. So that minerals
sleeping deep in the earth
can grow crystalline structures.
So that cactus leaves can maintain storage
for use during droughts. So life
can see the desert's succulence.
Sand dunes roll into a majestic mountain,
sitting stronger than a fortress,
slowly shifting over hundreds of years.
Every step or crawl on dirt
creates a sound, as wind whips
into a howl, as rain drizzles or pelts,
as a warming touch from the sun's light
kisses shade. Every bark and roar
from friend or foe, every flapping whir
from bee or hummingbird, even
a quiet landing of moth or butterfly –
a desert will never be silent,
though it seems so from a distance.
wind whispers a million legends.
It hears the wails and happiness
of those in the wild, breathing in
the same air, same spaces.
All meet the sky, moon,
rolling hills. Paws leave
impressions in fine soil,
at times scorching from sun,
cooling after rain and cloud cover.
Nature knows no boundaries except
where rain chooses to fall,
forming puddles so plants,
insects, and animals can drink
from the land. So that minerals
sleeping deep in the earth
can grow crystalline structures.
So that cactus leaves can maintain storage
for use during droughts. So life
can see the desert's succulence.
Sand dunes roll into a majestic mountain,
sitting stronger than a fortress,
slowly shifting over hundreds of years.
Every step or crawl on dirt
creates a sound, as wind whips
into a howl, as rain drizzles or pelts,
as a warming touch from the sun's light
kisses shade. Every bark and roar
from friend or foe, every flapping whir
from bee or hummingbird, even
a quiet landing of moth or butterfly –
a desert will never be silent,
though it seems so from a distance.
Monday, May 11, 2009
Neighborhood Walk #3
I walked to the park again
and to a place down the street –
for exercise, photos,
Vitamin D from the sun,
inspiration, nature –
hoping to see something minuscule,
bugs, dandelions, objects windblown.
To capture new images
with my camera –
textures in tree bark and
bus stop grill work,
ruggedness in rocks,
frailness or strength in twigs,
even tire tracks on the dirt made
by two yellow Caterpillar trucks
sitting by a large hole
that workmen have dug there.
Like my hair blown by the wind,
I saw the resiliency of life
in grass, leaves, wildflowers.
I would think the wind
would rip all of it out by the roots.
Ground cover with yellow flowers
the size of a freckle on my arm,
and purple flowers half the size
of my palm, met the roundness
of my camera lens, and eager clicks
of my finger on the shutter.
I wish I knew their names.
For the first time I saw beauty
in weeds, even those dried up,
droopy and wrinkled, stuck
by the ditch on El Paseo and Farney,
a ditch half full of murky water,
stippled by white and yellow streaks
made by the sun, trickling
between large trees
in neighbor's back yards.
The wind forced water ripples
in the same direction as my path.
On that path, supple plants soaking
what's needed from the water,
green in contrast to whitish dry weeds
next to tall, reddish-stemmed
growth that looked like Amaranth.
White flowers - pollinated
by a zipping hummingbird
moving too fast for me to
stare at its colors or take a picture –
its fluttering wings cutting air.
That alone was worth the trip,
realizing that nature takes care of itself
without worrying about life,
death and all stages in between.
and to a place down the street –
for exercise, photos,
Vitamin D from the sun,
inspiration, nature –
hoping to see something minuscule,
bugs, dandelions, objects windblown.
To capture new images
with my camera –
textures in tree bark and
bus stop grill work,
ruggedness in rocks,
frailness or strength in twigs,
even tire tracks on the dirt made
by two yellow Caterpillar trucks
sitting by a large hole
that workmen have dug there.
Like my hair blown by the wind,
I saw the resiliency of life
in grass, leaves, wildflowers.
I would think the wind
would rip all of it out by the roots.
Ground cover with yellow flowers
the size of a freckle on my arm,
and purple flowers half the size
of my palm, met the roundness
of my camera lens, and eager clicks
of my finger on the shutter.
I wish I knew their names.
For the first time I saw beauty
in weeds, even those dried up,
droopy and wrinkled, stuck
by the ditch on El Paseo and Farney,
a ditch half full of murky water,
stippled by white and yellow streaks
made by the sun, trickling
between large trees
in neighbor's back yards.
The wind forced water ripples
in the same direction as my path.
On that path, supple plants soaking
what's needed from the water,
green in contrast to whitish dry weeds
next to tall, reddish-stemmed
growth that looked like Amaranth.
White flowers - pollinated
by a zipping hummingbird
moving too fast for me to
stare at its colors or take a picture –
its fluttering wings cutting air.
That alone was worth the trip,
realizing that nature takes care of itself
without worrying about life,
death and all stages in between.
Sunday, March 15, 2009
Tuesday, February 24, 2009
Mesilla Tree #1
© 2009 Photo by Sue Miller
x
pitiful
wicked
worn and hungry
deserted,
desiccated,
like the cracked,
delapidated
aged, sandy
mud-brick building
behind you
unkempt
as the yard
around you,
I see
a wise old wizard
with electrified hair
under that stiff,
pleated, tattered robe
parched bark,
as wiggling snakes,
or welded twigs
wicked
worn and hungry
deserted,
desiccated,
like the cracked,
delapidated
aged, sandy
mud-brick building
behind you
unkempt
as the yard
around you,
I see
a wise old wizard
with electrified hair
under that stiff,
pleated, tattered robe
parched bark,
as wiggling snakes,
or welded twigs
that climb like weeds
Saturday, February 14, 2009
Sunday, January 18, 2009
Sunday, May 25, 2008
Monday, April 14, 2008
Finding My Muse
Do poets pay homage to a muse—
invoke by asking for help? HELP!
I need inspiration. I have not studied
the nine muses of Greek mythology.
Where are they?
Today, I ask the epic muse
to help me find my heroes.
The muse of tragedy suffers
because of social degradation and divisive
politicians who destroy America.
Maybe I'll find the muse of lyre music
to set a mood. The muse of hymns
goes to my mother's house. I know,
I can hear her humming. Last summer,
the muse of dance performed Pow-Wow's
in full costume—in blistering heat.
The muse of comedy plays on TV,
just watch the Hollywood crowd.
Where do I fit? Am I like Urania
the celestial muse, cosmic
poet of the heavens, sings lyrics
while holding a globe and compass?
My muse is with life on earth,
wind, trees, birds and sea,
air, light, moons, sun and poetry.
Though I have little clue about the cosmos,
I enjoy gazing at night's endless sky
to marvel at stars and search for UFOs.
invoke by asking for help? HELP!
I need inspiration. I have not studied
the nine muses of Greek mythology.
Where are they?
Today, I ask the epic muse
to help me find my heroes.
The muse of tragedy suffers
because of social degradation and divisive
politicians who destroy America.
Maybe I'll find the muse of lyre music
to set a mood. The muse of hymns
goes to my mother's house. I know,
I can hear her humming. Last summer,
the muse of dance performed Pow-Wow's
in full costume—in blistering heat.
The muse of comedy plays on TV,
just watch the Hollywood crowd.
Where do I fit? Am I like Urania
the celestial muse, cosmic
poet of the heavens, sings lyrics
while holding a globe and compass?
My muse is with life on earth,
wind, trees, birds and sea,
air, light, moons, sun and poetry.
Though I have little clue about the cosmos,
I enjoy gazing at night's endless sky
to marvel at stars and search for UFOs.
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