Tag Archives: nature

Daffodils (with Apologies to William Wordsworth)

Ah, daffodils
That do banish all ills,
By performing a spritely dance.
Oh the romance
Of it all,
But then the rain did fall.
The flowers where beaten down
And the earth did drown
In a deluge most foul
Which made the poet scowl!

My dog did howl
For in my haste
To taste
Nature’s beauty
I forgot his towel
And my duty
To keep both him and I
Dry!

Oh blasted daffodils
And rain soaked hills!
I need my pills
For I feel chills
That will lay me low
So to the good doctor I must go!
Hey ho
I will romanticise it all
For I recall
How my public do adore
Poems about nature’s beauteous store!

Victoria (Tori) Zigler, is author of the month on Goodreads

Victoria (Tori) Zigler, is author of the month on one of the Goodreads groups she is a member of. To ask Tori a question, or to find out more about her and her books please visit, http://ziglernews.blogspot.co.uk/2016/09/im-september-2016s-author-of-month.html.

Ethereal

Sunlight slants through branches.
The ethereal girl dances
As the poet romances
Her
Out of the summer air.

The trill
Of an evening blackbird
Is heard.
Then without a word
She is gone,
Though in his heart she lives on.

Perchance
She will dance
Once more
When Autumn winds roar,
And clothed in russet gown
We will lie down
And forever, sleep

The Disquiet of Quiet

The disquiet
Of quiet.
Turn up the sound
And drown
Out the bird
Whose song
Before long
Will stab you to the heart
Causing tears to start.

I, for my part
Listen
Though the tears glisten.
I become a child, for a while
Without guile,
Smile
And yearn to be free
Of me.

Out of Tune

Thunder echoes but Thor
Is no more.
People look skywards as before
But only to remark
That the sky is dark.

The rain will clean
For a while, but the obscene
Heat
That festers in the calculating brain
Will remain.

The sane
Will go with the rain
That cools
While fools
Complain
That nature rules.

Owl

I have lain awake listening for the owl’s cry.
A note that chills
Thrills
Then does die.

One day
This bird of prey
Will carry my soul away,
Or so the supersticious say.

Mice hide
While I, in my pride
Decide
The owl’s erie cry
Signifies that I will die.

The bird has no interest in me
So why can I not be free
From his cry
That to my window nigh
does rise, then, as suddenly, die?