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Posts Tagged ‘outdoors’

John Donne, one of the most famous Metaphysica...

John Donne, one of the most famous Metaphysical Poets.

COME live with me, and be my love,
And we will some new pleasures prove
Of golden sands, and crystal brooks,
With silken lines and silver hooks.

There will the river whisp’ring run
Warm’d by thy eyes, more than the sun ;
And there th’ enamour’d fish will stay,
Begging themselves they may betray.

When thou wilt swim in that live bath,
Each fish, which every channel hath,
Will amorously to thee swim,
Gladder to catch thee, than thou him.

If thou, to be so seen, be’st loth,
By sun or moon, thou dark’nest both,
And if myself have leave to see,
I need not their light, having thee.

Let others freeze with angling reeds,
And cut their legs with shells and weeds,
Or treacherously poor fish beset,
With strangling snare, or windowy net.

Let coarse bold hands from slimy nest
The bedded fish in banks out-wrest ;
Or curious traitors, sleeve-silk flies,
Bewitch poor fishes’ wand’ring eyes.

For thee, thou need’st no such deceit,
For thou thyself art thine own bait :
That fish, that is not catch’d thereby,
Alas ! is wiser far than I.

 

By John Donne

 

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Early spring narcissus

In the spring she comes to her favorite place down by the water.

Where the willow trees dip low/and the wind blows her hair/ whipping it around her face.

The daffodils smile in welcome/they have yearned to see her/upon their rising.

For the past winter has been long and harsh/the woman bends to pluck a flower as she brings it closer/ and inhales/the scent of the newly awakening earth.

The sounds of nature permeate the atmosphere

A Robin nearby sings/ cherry, cheer up!

The music wraps itself around her lithesome body/ her heart picks up speed/and drums a staccato beat

Exhilaration soars through her blood.

She is not a traditional beauty/ but here sheltered /in natures sweet bower / she radiates a compelling aura.

Harnessed over time and seasons/ of enlightenment and awareness/ through many varied experiences.

The young green saplings/ dotting the expansive marshland /bow in the breeze.

Paying homage to her serene presence amongst them.

Joszann St. John

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Nodding Trillium

Moonlight dances on the patio

A soft click and a moment later a connecting door opens

Revealing a slender silhouette

As it approaches a hammock/ swinging slightly in the open air

The night is young/ humid here in the South American jungle

Answering the nocturnal siren/serenading and at once beguiling/ with sound

Resisting for a moment/then succumbing

Luxuriating in the cooling breeze suddenly arriving/ while the swinging contraption lulls/

Nod inducing/ off to sleep

To sleep!

By Joszann St.John

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The bamboo flute plays a haunting melody as it serenades the night along the Venetian quay.

Across the lagoon a Gondola glides into view

Reclining on sumptuous silk cushions, a couple soaks up the ambience of tranquility and romance

That can be found out here on the water

Along the way mist descend hugging and shrouding the boat and its occupants in secrecy

Halting their progress for a while.

 

By Joszann St.John

 

 

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As the rains come down

The dust that had settled over everything runs in muddy rivulets

Making tributaries as they converge on the ground

Two boys play in the down pour

Their faces happy and full of glee

Wide grins of delight turn into shrieks of laughter

Their wet slippery hands fail to connect 

As they hit out at each other/ in mock play fight

In the overhang of a summer porch the mother watches

Her boys/ pride evident in her beaming smile

A sigh of contentment escapes from her parted lips

While the frown she has carried these past weeks as she waited for rain/ leaves her weathered face

Rendering her momentarily youthful

She lets down her hair

The chignon slowly unravels/ as she runs to join her boys-in the rain.

Joszann St.John

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Eve

Cold November shrouds her in mystery

As far as the eyes can see

Change rushes upon her

Mighty and unstoppable

White draping conforms to her contours

She is part of the landscape/ it becomes her

Time marches on/ she puts

On layer after layer

For she becomes inclement weather

She is like fog come up suddenly over the moors

Upon a windswept afternoon.

Flowing and filling up the landscape

Movements endless as she reaches

Arms outstretched in eternal embrace

Her maternal bosom heaving

Epitome of grace, strength and resplendent beauty

She is woman!

 

By Joszann St.John

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Unearthed by water flowing continuously

Un-tombed bones-white-brittle-fragile

Large bones/ small bones- bones of all sorts

Relics of the past

The felled giants of a forest long forgotten

Covered over by time

Rechanneled water dig grooves deep into

Buried mountain ranges.

 

By Joszann St.John

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