Crescent Moon

Echoes of a lone wolf’s cry

dance with silvery shadows

beneath the light of the moon.

A distant howl is carried

with the rising of the sun

answering his lonesome calls.

Along the changing horizon

with the eastern winds he runs,

to the dawn of a new day.

Eyes lock as lips meet halfway

exploring with soft, gentle caresses                 

the steps of their opening door.

Two wolves begin once more.

linked with dVerse~ Poets Pub Grand Opening

Distant Lovers

Whichever way you read it at whatever given time pick your 

ending for this poem its your choice with this rhyme.

Distant Lovers

Across the vast deep waters on an Island in the sea,

her distant lover dwells in the land of Banshee.

A love of mind and soul as if tied with timeless thread.

An invisible connection held with everlasting breath spread.

A high wind blows his sails westward to her shore.

Their eyes for the first time will touch and explore.

Hours trail the day she waits for the dawn of a sailor’s lore.

She knows his ship is near; soon he shall land upon her shore.

Rising waves and birds galore tell him land is nearly found.

He panics with fear and guilt turning his sails back around.  

He passes no word of change leaving her hanging and unsure.

Death runs through her mind. She decides their love obscure.

Believing her love died that day, forever lost to her at sea.

She cuts her long hair releasing them both to be free.

He sails home, wails of his passion echo the beats of his life

overcome by thoughts of her, he has to leave his wife.

One night, he endured no more with mists of eve & ancient rites 

he yells her name into the wind, asking in prayer if time will 

change his flight.

Time answers his lonesome call,

“Go to her, go to her now the gate of fate will open

 four dews of a morning and one night remain unbroken!”

At once, he set sail for her shore not thinking to send her word. 

He was lost in the world of Time, trapped inside his own absurd.

The third night he lands ashore asking for the house Mansur.

He finds his way to her door expecting her to answer.

~

1

She opens the door and there he stands. Confusion breaks out on 

her face. She goes to speak but he stops her, 

wraps his arms around and embraces her with dawn.

~

2

No one answers the door or looks out the window, no life

is visible at all. He slumps down on the porch to think

feeling beaten down by his own ambitious self.

~

3

She opens the door with a disturbing look of anger on

her face. The man she believed dead stood there smiling.

Taking a step back she tells him no! with the rising of dawn. 

© River 5/11

posted for One Shot Wednesday week 46 at One Stop Poetry

There’s always a Point…

Sinking deeper into the center
of a swirling ball of warmth 

rising hotter with every word
expanding and growing 
burning with long tentacles 

spreading through crevices 
cracked by past storms
fueling the building energy

striking the point of boiling
the ball explodes at you.

Sinking deeper into the center
of a swirling ball of warmth 

rising hotter with every pulse
expanding and growing 
burning with long tentacles 

spreading through veins

a warmth of tingles 
fueling the building energy

striking the point of love
the ball wraps around you.

©  5/11

Y ~ Your Eyes....

Your Eyes 

Have you looked in the mirror recently?

really, really looked

at the person reflected back?

beyond your laugh lines and crows feet

digging deeper than your thoughts

lying buried in your soul

is a beautiful you

waiting to be found

among layers of self doubt

shinning in your moments of silence .

Do you see it?

I see your beauty.

It is reflected in your eyes.

                                           

                                    ©River 4/11

N - Nearly Fading

Waves of emotion blaze

binding them tightly

in the wraths of silence.

Drops of tears stain

their paths of choice.

In mere moments
before they fade away

hands reach out to touch 

as they search

for the strength and will

to try once more.

Joined by dancing eyes

their lips lock in a kiss

that stops time ….

    ©River 4/11

M- My Mom

My Mom

unconditional

love pours from a gracious soul

I aim to become.

My mama Rocks!

A Silk Scarf

                 A scarf of ocher silk adrift a breeze

in mists of sea and sands of rising rays

a scent it lingers far from over seas

exotic flowers, spice seed whirling haze.

The scarf appears before a lone man’s feet

he knows the scent of whom it may belong

a woman’s love he lost in harsh deceit 

her beauty captured both his heart and song.

He scans the horizon with hope and hears

her unforgettable laugh by the bay.   

Their distant eyes unite anew in tears
  among the dancing flames and petals day. 

                He swiftly moves her way in tender bliss

                presents the scarf and then his loving kiss. 

                                 

                                                  River 2/11

- Shakespearean sonnet #2    rules: 14 lines, 10 syllables each, iambic meter, and a rhyming scheme off abab, cdcd, efef, gg.

posted for One Shot Wednesday week 35 at One Stop Poetry~click to read some poetry or/and link up your own poem

Since last week, Charlie Martin and I have posted two duel poems.

the vanishing   

"may we pray for you"

Lost Adrift

This is my first Shakespearean sonnet. I have learned why so many fear them. They are difficult and a challenge to write. There are many styles of sonnets and I chose the Shakespearean to begin my endeavors with this form. rules: 14 lines, 10 syllables each, iambic meter, and a rhyming scheme off abab, cdcd, efef, gg.

POSTED FOR ONE SHOT WEDNESDAY WEEK 34 AT ONE STOP POETRY

COME CHECK IT OUT!

a river stone

he carries a stone in his pocket

a dull cream with speckles of black

irregular in shape

small enough

to lie in the center of his palm.

he carries a stone in his pocket

a treasure found on their first walk

absorbed in essence

her beauty

in the elements of its design.

                        River 1/11

A special treat posted this week:  A Path of Wrath the fifth duel poem  by Charles Martin and I   :)

posted for One Shoot Wednesday week 30 at One Stop Poetry ~go check it out

cynical virus ~ Haiku

cynical virus

caught a hopeless romantic

love kicked its bad ass

Moments of Sunrise

A vessel of flowing warmth

swirls of vibrant hues

uncovering dark corners

with moments of quivers.

Delicate petals waltz

around the guarded grotto

as solid walls, tighten

breathlessly with every twirl.

The waltz quickens

as waters churn,

the mouth of the cave

wets from within.

                ©River 12/10

 posted for One Shot Wednesday week 26 at One Stop Poetry
check out other poets 

picture thanks to Google images

Snow Crystals~ Sedoka

     Snow Crystals

tiny cold crystals

mystery of innocence

a fragile dance by thousands

ivory key notes

reveal treasures of beauty

they dance into formations

                              River 12/10

Sedoka is two katauta poems put together. Each katauta is a 5 7 7 syllable count and can stand on its own. They can be any length and are considered mood poems-for feelings and songs.

Two Heartbeats

Two heartbeats steal innocent touches upon
cheek and thigh
undressing one another with their eyes.

He whispers sweet words between breaths

of everyday terms as she watches them form

on his lips, dreaming of their sweet kiss.

Two heartbeats borrow moments of time

snatching reasons of sharing presence,

knowing rings of wall stand in between

holding back thoughts clawing to be free.

Two heartbeats skip beats of forgetful rights

longing, he touches her flowing hair,

they pass quick glances of passionate desiring

sneaking kisses in shadows of yesterdays hiding.

Two heartbeats stand in the entrance of reality

stepping from the realms of fantasy,

they face their pasts of fear and choice

breathing free thoughts of wandering hands.

Two heartbeats trace the movements of the other

outlines of moist lips upon sweet nakedness

intertwined beauty of whispering wonders

two heartbeats are lost in the mists of the other.

posted for One Shot Wednesday at One Stop Poetry week 24
lots of poems to be read by awesome poets~ check it out 

A Soul Companion

                                                          




                               The evening arrives

                               in a downcast moment,

                               jabbing spears at

                               anguished hours of longing,

                               cynical wounds

                               bash the soul

                               of a romantic.

                               Struggling to breath

                               consumed by the emptiness.

                               Alone so very long …

                               desiring a gentle caress,

                               an essential need

                               a touch that awakens

                               the body’s impulse

                               to the hands of another.

                               Not just any other...

                               a soul companion

                               a match of the mind

                               a connection that

                               knocks me silly

                               that drives me crazy

                               that I cannot walk

                               away from easily.

                               Cynical thoughts

                               creep in trying to

                               pollute and weaken

                               a romantic’s heart.

                               It wins some days

                               most other days

                               the optimist lives on.



posted for One Shot Wednesday 22 at One Stop Poetry

Their Eyes (Rictameter)

Their eyes

lock in longing

across the sun lit room.

He stands dazed, moving to her side,

an entrancing bright flash of two bare souls.

They speak of their love of old books

and deep woods, passions rise

captured within

their eyes.


Rictameter - the meter pattern (syllables per line) is 2-4-6-8-10-8-6-4-2.. First and last lines are identical.
posted for One Shot Wednesday 21 at One Stop Poetry 

 

A Zoo in the Middle of a Jungle

6 am: I sit with my morning coffee looking around our living room,

breathing in the familiar, catching glimpses of memories among the
decor, absorbing the beauty of the Hibiscus opening its flower petals.

My mind begins drifting in my morning haze

 pondering people’s worlds, their realities

 our responses to their realities

the eyes of a stranger

peering into our

homes our

souls

A full size piano in an apartment.

for my daughter’s musical skills

Books galore filling bookshelves

that almost touch the ceiling.

for my life addiction of reading

and smelling paper in my hands

A jungle of plants settled

in front of sliding glass doors.

for my love of life and flowers

A cat strolls into the room meowing insistently

we think he has an eating disorder
  

A girl is next stumbling in half-asleep

with messy hair, and dreamy eyes.

she still comes and sits on my lap in the morning

even though she’s as big as me- I love it
 

Right behind her, a dog follows with a look of, “I have to pee.”

he has never left her side

when she sleeps since we rescued him.
 

  I fondly smile at my growing daughter and our fury companions.

   Hearing the stranger’s eye perceive my full precious life and decide 

a crammed apartment

to many books

to many animals

to many plants

a zoo in the middle of a jungle

A contagious giggle escapes me infecting my daughter,

we both burst in laughter

I shake my head no.. It isn’t that crammed.

I wouldn’t have it any other way.

One Happy Loving Family

Our zoo in the

middle of a

jungle.

My Eccentric Mother

I remember as a girl going to Cybil’s house

So you could learn the old Astrology

After you brushed the old woman’s hair

I remember thinking her and her husband were ancient

Now I know they were wise

I remember you running with me and laughing

When everyone else’s mothers were sitting

Gabbing about each other

I remember thinking I was lucky

I remember you heading my Girl Scouts Troupe

Fighting for equality to enter the old school

Trying to give the gift of nature to the girls

I remember how proud I felt that you were my mother

I remember you cheering the loudest

At my basketball games

I remember you standing up for me

Telling that sexist Gym teacher off

I remember your face when I punked myself out

The twinkle in your eyes

Your daughter was her own unique self

The flash of fright across your face

Knowing it would mean hardships

I remember your disappointment

When I almost got in big trouble

You had me read Gibron

You understood I had to move on

I remember you trying to understand

Your adventurous daughter

Not ever relating but still giving me

The room to fly

I remember the fear in your eyes

The first time I was paralyzed

The second time when you

Told that doctor he was wrong

I remember when I realized

All you had ever done for me

The day I became a mother

You are the woman in this world

That means more to me than any other

You have always been at my side

You will always love me

I have always looked up to you

I have learned from you

How to be the eccentric woman

I am today

Mama you are my Best Friend

I Love You!

                                                           ©5/10

Time Stands Still

Milkweed Fritters and Sumac Ice Tea

Our appetites are awakened

from the smells of food

cooking over an open fire.

A dinner gathered

with our bare hands,

caught by pole.

A meal of survival and skill

tickling taste buds

we dig in…

watercress, dandelion, and sorrel
salad topped with raspberries

Milkweed fritters and Sumac ice tea

violets and wild rose delicate with beauty

fried Rainbow Trout with boiled

wild onion and arrowhead bulbs

yellow goats beard, and nettles

steamed with wild ginger

nibbling on wintergreen

we lean back, content

gently holding hands

absorbing the beauty

our fingers begin to play

joining an orchestra of music

a symphony by the river

painted in sunset blaze

a hawk calls for her mate

the last petal curls to bed

our lips meet

bursting with passion

wrapped in your arms

in bliss, I am.

                                           ©River 10/10



*Posted for One Shot Wednesday #16~ One Stop Poetry
image thanks to google images

A Winters Wind ~duel poetry

 By Charles Martin and River Urke

A Winters Wind

these things you hold so dear
cradled in your hands
as if a delicate bloom
are mere shadows of your past
you long to hold as it was
cradling a memory
framed in yesterday
unwilling to set him free
but he is not yours to hold
he belongs to a winter's wind
flowing through these barren trees
like his fingers once in your long hair
combing the woven threads of knowledge
the tangled web of life’s intrinsic collective
delicately kissing a union of unattainable love
knowing he has to walk the paths not taken
your ache bears the weight of drowned tears
tears flowing from a thousand souls
abandoned by the gods of peace
and so each warrior must leave this place
and those he loves for one last futile battle

a battle of man against the natural world

a ludicrous yet crucial clash of power
he stands not with men ~horrified by
the hundreds of years of rap and pillage

leaving the earth a barren tract of sand
sand moving in the hour glass of history
though this narrow passage way of fate
to where his death will be found

the mere moment you know, stabbed

your heart bleeds for you and your unborn

a wail of agony escapes through silent cries

the loss of your beloved, her father

the time is here to set him free~

his soul flies with a winters wind.

By Charles Martin and River Urke                 

This is the third duel poem Charles and I have written together. Both of us wondered about where this one was going to go then like the others it turned out really cool.

Duel Poetry:  a prearranged poetry writing challenge  between two people to evolve a new poem where each writer must respond to the other writer’s lines  (4 -5 ) until both parties agree that the poem is complete.