“Spring Percolates”



Pear tree blossoms
plentiful
as the stars,
packed into constellations
individual as the eye,
purity of milk and diamonds,
whitecaps of oceans
awaken

into another dream,
lost moments found,
forgotten tales
retold
of skeletal branches
putting on fat and flesh,
garbed in gowns of organza,
taffeta and voile,
of golden green,
magenta’s pink,
and crimson of the maples,
the stars

descend from the heavens,
dip into the tin paint
gallons of the rainbow,
morph into manifold
forms  of delight,
crayola of corollas
dazzle
upon the vibrant grass.

by D. G. Vachal © 2013

“Treasures in the Morning”

Anita Martinz @ Wikimedia Commons

Cold tentacles
hold on
to burgeoning branches
beneath the April sun:
yellow butterflies alight
upon celadon lapels
of  petal-packed corollas —

Skies are cyan, crystal-clear,
embossed with goose
down pillows
soaked
in alabaster dreams —

There are treasures in the morning,
this platinum morning:
emerald and gold
glimmer
over infantile leaves
of oak and elm —
ruby and sapphire,
topaz, turquoise and amethyst
sparkle
in the tranquil blooming
of the promised flowers.

by D. G. Vachal © 2013

*** Photograph by Anita Martinz @ Wikimedia Commons

The Years, My Friend

Winter by Farhad
The Years, My Friend

The years, my friend, have not been kind
upon your marble face,   I hear the river songs
tinkle with the cymbals,
your eyes are shriveled grapes upon the vine,
your mouth a wounded cherry,
pecked reddish-grey
by restless robins.

Take my hand, my friend,
let us go to the calling fields that blaze with diamonds
under the eternal skies,
to the orchards in the midst of these winter days,
where leafless branches stand dauntless
in the endless cold, with jubilant tales to tell
in the blizzard of their days —

harken to the legends
of the root and the bud and the sun,
and the promise
(believe the promise)
that warmth and springtime
will come,
(it always comes)
once again.

by D. G. Vachal © 2013

*** Photography by Farhad