cherry blossoms

For Something Pure to Bring Home 27/30 by Nico Lund




From far away, 

Squinting sharpens your features,

Brings definition to your edges, 
But you are still too far to touch,
Comprehend,
Have. 


I listened to the music that 

Tickled your ears 
And softened your heart. 


But all I heard 
Was the droning of a tired bee 
Out looking for something 
Pure to bring home. 


And all that squinting for the future 
Brought tears to my eyes. 

For All Creatures of Good Heart 25/30 for Chai & Bamboo by Nico Lund


Todays Poetry prompt from NaPoWriMo is a clerihew poem. Although, they are usually only 4 lines, I needed an extra quatrain for the benefit of all sentient beings.

For goodness sakes Madame Woodland Park Zoo,
You've made a gargantuan travesty of the lives of chai and bamboo,
These sentient beings and the other zoo lot,
Aren't just novelties like dodo birds or triceratops. 

It's time to do right Monsiers and Madams,
Letting go of your money, your accreditation and stand.
Send Chai and Bamboo to retire in peace,
And for all creatures of good heart to be released. 


I Am Enough 23/30 by Nico Lund


It's a simple tweak
Gentle touch and
Barely noticeable smile. 

The one just underneath the skin
Like maybe because it's always there,
Always tilted up without effort 
In a thought of kindness 
Or swoosh of sweetness. 

An Illusive opposite of shadow
A sensual passing through. 

What is that rising flutter in my heart?

A infinitesimal shift
With a colossal effect. 
A momentous rejoicing
With the smallest of sighs. 

Enough, enough, enough!

I am enough.

What If? 22/30 by Nico Lund



What if the rain never came?
Drip 
                  drop 
                               dry. 
There'd be nothing to wash 
The tangles from your hair,
Or the soot from your pores. 

What if the sky never filled with clouds?
Drip 
                  drop. 
Each lost droplet a lost idea 
For the clouds are the accumulation 
Of all the ideas and dreams 
Of the people down below. 

What if the thoughts stopped coming?
Drip. 
                                    Drip. 
                                                                     Drip. 
                                                                                                   Drip. 

What if?

This One to the Sea 11/30 by Nico Lund


Mother takes the hand of little fingers,
kissing them one by one.
This finger down the mountain,
This finger through the trees,
This finger touch the sky,
This one to the sea.

Mother touches so gently each blade of grassy hair on little heads.
Here sprouts the life,
Here the flowing gold,
Here flowering seeds,
Here the dreaming folds.

Mother walks with care, small steps and slowly.
First steps in the water,
First falling to the ground,
First dance with windy music,
First whispers in the round.