Short Lupine Poems

Fragrant meadows
And sweet spring breezes
Fill my minds eye...

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Silver lamp of light 
Low howl, longing, louder
Grey form looks upwards...

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Little Red-Cap, I can see
no wolf would ever bother thee.
You'd not buy the masquerade
of his best laid plans, misplayed.
As I'm not the lupine brand,
would you gently take my hand?...

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a tranquil meadow 
dons a velvet lupine cloak...
bees swarm in dark clouds 

vast fields honeycombed
with flora and rabbit holes...
hawks swoop down for prey


By Carrie Richards......For Russell Sivey's Contest: Two Worlds Colliding...

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Lupine eyes shone coal
Untamed fleece ghastly disguise
A pure soul I've seen
Nimkee, enchanted by you-
Raw beauty birthed by nature.


For the A Memory Of Beauty contest by Rick Parise

*Nimkee is an amazing wolf I've the
pleasure to meet a few times....

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little pig beware the lupine cliques-
that prowl the woods of politics
the scent of money they adore
as all the while they howl for more
yowling from the forest floor
beguiling with their wily tricks
forego the straws and fragile sticks
and build your house of bricks!...

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Lo, a cyclopean ready to devour;
Lo, a silver-tongued serpent  hissing while crossing;
Lo, a mysterious land full of creatures;
Lo, a lupine howling so frightening;
Lo a phoenix from oblivion has risen again;
Nemesis a punisher of evildoers has come;
Lo, I wake up and its a dream....

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sun rays caught bedewed glint topaz,
weeds of temperate light
expanding promise-buds of summer joys,
and almond blossom memories
pass in favor of new life;
should ever there be blessings in the air
they are birthed from the warming spring breath
      of April
and a charm of hummingbirds
in a field of lupine...

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Soon the sun will set and the moon will rise.
Stay safe and stay here or he will find you.
Sleek silver hunter with red rabid eyes
The sun starts to set. The moon starts to rise.
He growls lupine rage. This predator spies
his victim, alone. He leaps straight and true.
The sun disappears. The moon is your eyes.
Stay safe and stay here or he will find you....

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BAYING HOUNDS

I will forsake them
ignore them-- the
baying hounds of 
my
heart and head
sad-eyed and old  
with
belly slumping
to the ground

awaiting…

another silent
turn of the moon
to promote their
noisy- toothless
challenges
summoning lupine
lore

stirring up a storm of
maddening mental 
architecture
with the chase
of foreplay
foray and
glory...

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Anger sits there
locked in his cage,
howling against the bars.
Eyes rolling,
mouth foaming.
When he begins to pace
see the change in eyes,
steel over
and his teeth set in.
Lupine smile
fangs bared
she hands him the keys.
He races out
full rampage
blood rushes
sounds dies
worlds tip
taste blood.

She sits there
locked in his cage
Crying against the bars
eyes closed
mouth praying....

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Color my small world -
   Oh, fair Yeshua -
With a streak of globe mallow
   Inside a rocky draw

And the morning calm
   Of bergamot and lupine -
So I can stop time
   And set my gaze upon them -

And a swath of poppies
   Glowing in the sun
And a glint in the breeze
   As if to show your love.

I'll go and walk about
   The garden variety -
Knowing that this niche
   Is where I want to be....

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Under a sky of celadon -
   I watched bees huddle
In frenzied expectation
   Of riding a flaxen petal.

Lupine and globe mallow
   Danced about while sage
Waved at me from below -
   Comprising my entourage.

I saw pale butterflies mingle
   Within dewy creosotes
Then came an argent gale
   Which tugged at their cloaks

And then - the drape shifted
   But my vision proves true -
A celadon echo gifted
   To me that sunny interlude....

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I greet the mild sun,
as it ascends among peach and lilac hues.
Its golden rays caress pearly dewdrops,
resting upon my verdant leaves. 
My conical purple and pink petals stand tall
against dawn's breeze, as I gently sway, 
dancing to nature's timeless rhythm.

I can hear the sweet call of the Chickadees,
as cheeky chipmunks raid brimming bird feeders.
Some claim I am controversial and invasive,
but I am a beacon of resilience -
a haven for bees and butterflies.

...

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My aorta beats in golden poppies,
pulsing down slopes to pool
in a bruise of purple sage.
Though my eyes gleam
with lemon marigolds
snow caps of porcelain lupine
melt on my lashes,
undulating in a quiet tempest
of periwinkle asters.
Beneath a bluebell sky
the sun colors my cheeks
with the blush of primroses
as monarchs lilt
like birds of paradise
among velvet morning glories
and a shy alyssum breeze
caresses my emerald cloak.

3/26/19
Marathon Qualifiers Contest
Mark Toney...

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