A writer inspired by nature and human nature

Posts tagged ‘Poetry’

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Season of Blossoms a Haiku by Bette A. Stevens


Inspired by nature

Apple Blossom HAIKU bas 2015Spring has sprung and apple trees are shouting about it here at the farmstead in Central Maine. After a long winter’s nap their branches are bursting into bloom. With temperatures in the 70s and sunshine in full array (Oh, but rain predicted to be on its way…), this writer is shouting about it too. Inspired by another of nature’s wonders ~ Bette A. Stevens, Maine author illustrator

What’s inspiring you this spring?

[Explore Bette’s Blog]

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1131. The rose is without an explanation; she blooms because she blooms. ~Angelus Silesius


Picture perfect images. Oh, the wonder of it all! ~ Bette A. Stevens, Maine author/illustrator http://www.4writersandreaders.com

Sacred Touches

Roses of the field whisper divine poetry,
but you must listen carefully to hear it
because noise from the wheels of progress
drowns out everything that sings.
~Edited poem by Judith Cody

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You love the roses – so do I. I wish
The sky would rain down roses!
Why will it not?
Then all the valley would be pink and red
And soft to tread on. They would fall as light
As feathers, smelling sweet; and it would be
Like sleeping and like waking, all at once!
~Edited poem by George Elliot

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He(the Lord) will cover you with his feathers, and under his wings you will find refuge; his faithfulness will be your shield and rampart. ~Psalm 91:4  ✝

**Image of my Night Owl roses

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Monet


I love art & poetry…
Have a beautiful day, friends! ~ Bette A. Stevens http://www.4writersandreaders.com

Ancient Skies

Monet from Pinterest

With a simple paintbrush he could see the horizon

that it was not a destination, but light between worlds,

a way of thinking really, bending colors, identifying

the softness. Just a hint of humans passing through

time, walking softly between colors and light.

A lot of blue with green, often a sky.

Monet.

       

 Poetry © Copyright 2016, ancient skies

image from pinterest

Peace and blessings to everyone.

“When we love people, we give them hope.”

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310. Light touches you only to shift into iridescence upon your body and wings. ~Excerpt from a poem by Louise Bogan


Exquisite—poetry in motion! ~ Bette A. Stevens

Sacred Touches

Today I saw the dragonfly
Come from the wells where he did lie.
An inner impulse rent the veil
Of his old husk: from head to tail
Came out clear plates of sapphire mail.
His dried wings: like gauze they grew;
Through crofts and pastures wet with dew
A living flash of light he flew.
~Lord Alfred Tennyson

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What an absolutely exquisite creature!  Such as this winged beauty are so stunningly wondrous that I’m almost left speechless when I see them.  Not only are they breathtaking in form and beauty but they are also valued predators in controlling populations of harmful insects.  And the fact that their oldest known relatives date back over 300 million years ago seldom fails to bring forward for me images of what earth’s pristine splendor must have been like in the beginning.  In addition I find it fascinating that they have been a subject of…

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Choose Something Like a Star, poem by Robert Frost


Happy star-gazing! ~ Bette A. Stevens http://www.4writersandreaders.com

Silver Birch Press

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CHOOSE SOMETHING LIKE A STAR
by Robert Frost

O Star (the fairest one in sight),

We grant your loftiness the right

To some obscurity of cloud –

It will not do to say of night,

Since dark is what brings out your light.

Some mystery becomes the proud.

But to be wholly taciturn

In your reserve is not allowed.

Say something to us we can learn

By heart and when alone repeat.

Say something! And it says “I burn.”

But say with what degree of heat.

Talk Fahrenheit, talk Centigrade.

Use language we can comprehend.

Tell us what elements you blend.

It gives us strangely little aid,

But does tell something in the end.

And steadfast as Keats’ Eremite,

Not even stooping from its sphere,

It asks a little of us here.

It asks of us a certain height,

So when at times the mob is swayed

To carry praise…

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183. Why are there trees I never walk under but large and melodious thoughts descend upon me? ~Walt Whitman


Need some inspiration? There’s nothing like Nature, a little Walt Whitman and a bit of Shakespeare, too… ~ Bette A. Stevens http://www.4writersandreaders.com

 

Sacred Touches

And this our life,
exempt from public haunt,
finds tongues in trees,
books in running brooks,
sermons in stones,
and good in everything.
~William Shakespeare

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Standing beneath the Shumard Red Oak made me feel like I was standing in a temple of the Most High.  The breeze was ruffling its leaves, and they in turn were prompting sacred tongues to utter incantations of their divine purpose.  For though the leaves face eminent extinction and expulsion from the branches, in their dying they’ll fall and create warm blankets to cover the ground.  In so doing they will protect the life that lies beneath the surface during winter’s cold, cold days.  Even at the close of winter their goodness will not be at an end for as they deteriorate, the remaining bits and pieces will add nutrients to enhance the soil.  Thus goes the circle of life and the interdependency of all…

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Peregrine Falcon, New York City, poem by Robert Cording


Inspiration in the midst of day-to-day humdrum! ~ Bette A. Stevens

Silver Birch Press

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PEREGRINE FALCON, NEW YORK CITY
By Robert Cording

On the 65th floor where he wrote
Advertising copy, joking about
The erotic thrall of words that had
No purpose other than to make
Far too many buy far too much,
He stood one afternoon face to face
With a falcon that veered on the blade
Of its wings and plummeted, then
Swerved to a halt, wings hovering.
 
An office of computers clicked
Behind him.  Below, the silence
Of the miniature lunch time crowds
And toy-like taxis drifting without
Resolve to the will of others.
This bird’s been brought in, he thought,
To clean up the city’s dirty problems
Of too many pigeons.  It’s a hired beak.
 
Still he remained at the tinted glass
Windows, watching as the falcon
Gave with such purpose its self
To the air that carried it, its sheer falls
Breaking the mirrored self-reflections
Of glass…

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Windy Nights, poem by Robert Louis Stevenson


Poem perfect for a windy autumn night! ~ Bette A. Stevens

 

Silver Birch Press

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WINDY NIGHTS
by Robert Louis Stevenson

Whenever the moon and stars are set,
            Whenever the wind is high,
All night long in the dark and wet,
            A man goes riding by.
Late in the night when the fires are out,
Why does he gallop and gallop about?
 
Whenever the trees are crying aloud,
            And ships are tossed at sea,
By, on the highway, low and loud,
            By at the gallop goes he.
By at the gallop he goes, and then
By he comes back at the gallop again. 

PAINTING: “Windy Night” by Marilyn Jacobson, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. Prints available at fineartamerica.com.

EDITOR’S NOTE: A fascinating project about Scottish author Robert Louis Stevenson (1850-1894) is currently in the works — a film about his life in San Francisco, with a screenplay by G.E. Gallas. Find out more at gegallas.wordpress.com.

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Rhapsody on a Windy Night, poem by T.S. Eliot


Love T.S. Eliot. Just right for a windy night… Bette A. Stevens

 

Silver Birch Press

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RHAPSODY ON A WINDY NIGHT (Excerpt)
by T.S. Eliot

Twelve o’clock.
Along the reaches of the street
Held in a lunar synthesis,
Whispering lunar incantations
Dissolve the floors of memory
And all its clear relations,
Its divisions and precisions.
Every street lamp that I pass
Beats like a fatalistic drum,
And through the spaces of the dark
Midnight shakes the memory
As a madman shakes a dead geranium…
***
Editor’s Note: “As a madman shakes a dead geranium” — what a stunning line! T.S. Eliot never ceases to amaze…

Read “Rhapsody on a Windy Night” in its entirety at poets.org.

Painting by Mike Grubb, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. Find more of the artist’s work at fineartamerica.com.

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ARTISTRY an autumn poem by Bette A. Stevens


 

Autumm's Artistry

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