Charmed Chaos

Here in a stark grey-weld dawn
a conspiracy of blue-black ravens
hovering in trees, mourning, keening
Sending the gruesome dead creatures
crawling back to their ancient graves
until the next up-raising
when tulle white day gives way
anew to an ebony silk night.

In the radiant morning sun
soul-less slaves stand watch
with each tick of the faceless clock
yearning for each buttery sun’s end
so they may lay their head, rest again
when once more the undead roam
seeking a pulsing supple throat
to feed their blood-starved needs

©2021 Linda Lee Lyberg

Imaginary Garden With Real Toads: Gather Around for some Ghost Stories

“This is love: to fly toward a secret sky, to cause a hundred veils to fall each moment. First to let go of life. Finally, to take a step without feet.” -Rumi

Nothing left but time fleeting
and racing by
in a flurry of
feathered memories sublime

As the wilting petals fall
from the decaying rose
leaving the delicate heart exposed
What worth, what value
is this pulsing soul
if in the end
there is no one to honor, to hold?
For barren is
the one living without love

And the painful words,
they fall in silence
upon the dampened page
nothing here but blurred smudges
of sour tears to set the final stage
for the heart, now an empty vessel
will wither too soon and age

©2021 Linda Lee Lyberg

Imaginary Garden With Real Toads: Beware of Poor Substitutions

Taimi crawls beneath the cascading willow to mourn her lover in peace
imagining the slender weeping leaves are his fingers on her skin
Closing her eyes she yearns to be in his strong arms again

Each day she comes to the magnificent tree watering the ground with her tears
she tells the ancient one her magical wishes, hopes, and secret dreams

And then one day as she is crying, she hears a whispering,
from the bent and aged willow comes a deep voice, offering
a panacea for her painful grief

Dear Taimi each day you come with your sea-salt tears,
I hear your grieving anguish, and I want to ease your fears
I will grant your astounding wish, the one you speak each day
so be still my little one and sleep safe, within my gnarled roots
when you wake you’ll be a tiny sapling with bright green shoots

And to this day, if you listen when you are passing by,
you’ll hear soft ancient sighs and joyous laughter float on high
from the old and young willows swaying in the summer breeze

©2021 Linda Lee Lyberg

Author’s Note: Today Kim is hosting at the Garden and has asked us to write a poem based on Tree Mythology. We can choose from a list she provided, one of our favorites, or create a story of our own. I chose to do the latter. On a side note, the name Taimi means ‘sapling, young tree’ in Finnish.

Imaginary Garden With Real Toads: Tree Mythology

Also Linking to Poetry Pantry

And should I deny your existence
with your eloquent whispers
murmuring in my ear while you peer
over my shoulder, what then?
Will you with haste forsake me, leave me again?
With naught but blank paper and pen?
You are a mercurial wench about our poetry;
I am but the instrument to pen our plight.

©2021 Linda Lee Lyberg

Author’s Note: Kerry is hosting at the garden today and has asked us to write a 55 word poem about our muse. I chose to have a conversation with my muse today.

Imaginary Garden With Real Toads: Micro Poetry: I am my own Muse

“The temple bell stops but I still hear the sound coming out of the flowers.” -Matsuo Basho

And lo, the honeybees heed
the call of ringing temple bells
echoing in the fragrant flowers
enticing them to feast
on corn moon golden pollen.
As they venture into
each blossom’s beautiful shrine
they do so with sacredness
ensuring they never bruise
delicate paper-thin petals.
They work in utter silence
the only sound their hum
breathing in the memories,
living in this precious moment
being busy bees, loving being free
It must be so incredible to be a honeybee.

©2021 Linda Lee Lyberg

Imaginary Garden With real Toads: Bits of Inspiration: Bell