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White Water
This poem comes from Autumn Leaves:
Mighty canyon river coursing through
Millions of years of life.
You are truly a highway through the
Rugged wilderness.
Your quiet stretches of tranquil water
Soothes my nerves and is tonic to my mind.
Your white water turbulence excites me
And offers me its cold spray challenge.
Aquatic life inside you offers
Boundless pleasure to my hand and palate.
Teeming life along your shores
Bring beauty to tired eyes.
Though I don’t see you often enough,
You’re never far from my mind.
Of all man’s known treasures,
You are cherished above all.
When I’m gone, you’ll still be there
For all to come and see.
This thought gives me pleasure.
Maybe you’ll find more friends like you and me.
Artist
This poem comes from Autumn Leaves:
Paint with strokes of love,
Brush warmth of summer sun,
Birds fluttering all about,
And clear, blue skies above.
Paint happy trees, merry streams,
Stroke in children’s laughter,
Happy dogs and cats,
Lemon light of drowsy dreams.
Stroke in cool, green grass,
Quiet, existing limpid pools,
Browns of a robust mountain;
Blend them like sands in an hourglass.
Paint no sadness on life’s canvas,
Her presence already abounds;
Life is loaded with her morass,
So…just paint in happy sounds.
Retreat
This poem comes from Autumn Leaves:
Rock-covered water,
Cold, chuckling creek
Splashes, tumbles happily,
Almost lulls me to sleep.
Reclining on green grass,
Warm sun on my face,
Nature working magic
Hectic schedules to erase.
Beauty surrounds me —
All surely heaven sent.
Pine-laden air,
Spruce trees generously lent.
Mind relaxed,
Mountains seem to tower.
Each minute thus spent
Prolongs life by an hour.
Red-tailed hawk above
Surveys this lovely span.
Makes one glad to be alive,
Glad to be a man.
I’ll think with sympathy
Of those left far behind,
Facing traffic snarls,
Smog, or waiting in a line.
But, then, they may like neon lights,
Consider it great fun.
I’ll give them a thought anyway
As I soak up the sun.
Dreamwalk
This poem comes from Autumn Leaves:
Softly, I’m borne away on quiet, muffled wings
Of a beautiful butterfly which only I am privileged to see.
Gorgeous multicolored wings gracefully lift me like a feather,
Bringing my spirit to that very special sanctuary
Which is filled with rainbows, solitude and, of course, dreams.
Here in this special place,
My imagination paints only with soft colors.
Each tree, shrub, vine or plant produces fruits
And flowers in the seasons of my dreams.
Birds of every species and color grace tree and shrub.
They dart here and there, affording hours of pleasure to the eye.
The soft, sweet music of their song carried on the fragrant air
Brings solace to the inner soul.
The heart is light, dancing from sheer exuberance!
Here in my special place, fish bite when fished for,
And grain or fruit grows in abundance when seeds are planted.
Rushing or hurry are strictly forbidden,
And time stands still on command.
Dreams occur in Technicolor, and fantasies are commonplace.
My unfettered imagination is in complete control,
Able to travel into open and distant space instantly.
In my mind, I can visit any continent, country, city or place
At a snap of my fingers.
Here, any desire can achieve satisfaction
As soon as it’s realized and identified,
Without worry, pain or regret.
Should none of my earthly desires satisfy,
Then my inner spirit can be nourished
Through simple, quiet, relaxing thought patterns.
Peaceful, serenity reigns in assurance that all is well
And under complete control of my consciousness.
Tranquillity
This poem comes from Autumn Leaves:
Under stout arms of ancient beech,
Beside placid, looking-glass pool,
Lessons that only nature can teach
In the amphitheater of her school.
Ripples run out from cast-in stone,
Obstructed, lapse into still serenity.
‘Tis music on the ear as lesson travels home.
We find peace, balance, and complete tranquillity.
Continuation
This poem is from Autumn Leaves:
To each is given his portion of elixir
Or ambrosia of life,
And, like high-test rocket fuel,
Propels us in all endeavors, happiness and strife.
Changing tides bring flotsam and driftwood
Up from ocean’s deep measure,
Casting them on beaches to bleach white
And await nature’s further pleasure.
Thistle puffballs, blown by winds of change,
Are swirled and elevated,
Waiting patiently for sun and rain,
Settling quietly to earth, tempest’s flight abated.
Earthquake, flood and blizzard are
Simply nature’s greater forces,
Instilling awe, humbling man to an unknown source,
And given time, purges all from her chosen course.
Death ends all life, choosing no sides,
As force of nature erupts and collides.
Time is the unrelenting referee
In command of sun, moon, seasons and tides.
Flowers bloom, birds nest, and fish spawn.
Sunrise heralds another dawn.
Earth, streams, and ocean relinquish their bounty twain.
By His grace, the cycle starts once again.
Prime Time
This poem is from Autumn Leaves:
Does watching a clear, fast mountain stream
While inhaling sweet, spruce-laden air
Or enjoying quiet serenity of beautiful aspens,
Gazing up at rough-cut grandeur of towering mountains
Cast a therapeutic spell?
The answer is freely available to anyone
Willing to venture out and sample
This boundless treasure.
Worries flow away merrily with the water’s rush.
Troubles vanish like smoke
In the crisp, cool air
Which teases the mountaintops.
Thoughts are free to wander aimlessly
While consuming enormous quantities
Of rich subject matter.
An all-elusive peace enters the dark,
Twisted inner recesses of the subconscious,
Bringing with it freshness and light.
Wild creatures scurry and flit about unconcerned,
As nature spins and weaves,
Displaying her enchanted magic.
An unspeakable sense of joy and well-being prevails,
Engulfing mere mortals,
Sealing the lips to silence,
For to speak might shatter the beautiful, fragile spell.
wfosterwelborn 