WHIRLING ECHOES

 

Whirling echoing in faint disguise,
as golden fireflies wing evening skies.
The crickets are singing nature's tune,
in the shimmering flow of a June moon

A magical dance now lifting high
as transparent wings glide and fly.
Their night-time waltz of blinking gold
is an amazing sight to behold.

Silver pinpricks resembling stars
light darkening shadows, near and far.
Blissful winging across moonlight’s glow
flicking gold strokes where ever they go.
  WRITTEN BY DEE EDGETT

 

MIDNIGHT RAIN

 

Stabbing through wind with watery song
the midnight rain pulls sadness along.
We chase the ghosts of a flawless night
where soft moonlight streamed, with perfect light.

Dark clouds tumble, boasting wild havoc
bipolar rain is causing panic.
With ponderous voice it hammers down
swirling eddies, flooding the ground.

Midnight rain with monotonous drawl
settles remorse over one and all.
Tree limbs crumble, a ragged charade
as thunder roars, joining the parade.

Midnight rain, long suffering refrain,
repetitive song of sorrow and pain.
..WRITTEN BY DEE EDGETT

BOG SONGS

 

Ghosts are roaming down in the bog
spinning visions that want to play,
their bony fingers trailing fog.

Spinning visions that want to play,
they twirl and sink within the light
as shadows dance in mocking ray.

They twirl and sink within the light.
Bullfrogs call with their croaking sound
as phantom images lift in flight.

Bullfrogs call with their croaking sound.
Lily pad dreams are pulled along,
they echo high and then rebound.

Lily pad dreams are pulled along
as misty shadows spin away.
The bog is singing a grey song.

Ghosts are roaming down in the bog
their bony fingers trailing fog

WRITTEN BY DEE EDGETT

BRUISED LAVENDER

 

darkness spools
bruised lavender

a sharp mosaic
of regrets
battling with the wind

the end festers
below the cuts
like a persistent disease

splinters in the sunset
dismantle the horizon

no fond goodbyes
just a too full sky
spilling its remorse
 WRITTEN BY..DEE EDGETT

TIME

Time is strange bedfellow,
both hero and villain.

Its texture is dense
but it seems so fleeting.

In fits of sober remembrance
time recomposes festering sores,
wearing down the bones
and pushing at slender fractures

Healing hesitates
mixing grief with unsettled choices
as time collects the moments
to fill memories’ flimsy suitcases.

We keep going back to the stutters
and stabs where we neglected
to live in our truth
we keep trying to negotiate
what was or wasn’t

There is never enough time,
it may seem unlimited but it isn’t
so live for now, not tomorrow
or yesterday…
this moment, right now, is all you have!
..WRITTEN BY DEE EDGETT

WEEPING WILLOW

 

Inside damp mist the willows sway
with sleepy weeping sound.
Their feathery limbs fall away
reaching toward the ground.
Soft moans float on the morning breeze
along the mountains through the trees.
Soft moans float on
soft moans float on
threading fog o’er the deep blue sea.

Inside damp mist the willows sway
worn weary by spring rain.
Bending boughs lean toward the bay,
releasing unseen pain.
Sad echoes drift with endless hurt
their weeping branches touching dirt.
Sad echoes drift
sad echoes drift
in and out, always on alert.

Inside damp mist the willows sway,
bowed in prayer, it seems.
Spirit songs rise in veins of grey
removing restless dreams.
Green branches rise toward the light
they twist and turn with all their might.
Green branches rise
green branches rise
in golden glow, an awesome sight.
TRIJAN FORM..WRITTEN BY DEE EDGETT

 

 

DOWN IN THE BOG

this form was developed by me for a contest

at All Poetry

 

 

Croaking love songs down in the bog
droopy eyed with romantic thought
waiting for her to come along.

Droopy eyed with romantic thought
lit lily pads placed, facing north
fancy candles to mark the spot.

Lit lily pads placed, facing north
bullfrog calls thrown across the night.
Lusty throat sounds to bring her forth.

Bullfrog calls thrown across the night
jumping ladies he hopes to see.
Mud bath for two prepared just right.

Jumping ladies he hopes to see
flocking to his cool bachelor pad
where they shall sing in harmony.

Croaking love songs down in the bog.
waiting for her to come along.
...WRITTEN BY DEE EDGETT