Beseiged

The gargoyle spouted molten lead

A last ditch defense of home

Attackers' screams echoed instead

Of the gentle birdsong we'd known

Greed and lust tore the world that day

Burned the crops almost ripe

Old Scratch laughed to have his way

Death dirges instead of highlander's pipes

The womenfolk held off the raiders

Those alive limped away quick

Our defeat lay in the fields beyond

The battle fallen, burned out wicks

The next enemy, fought every year

Harsh winter, old Homicide

Takes no quarter, mindless to icy tears

Unprepared now, woe betides

The babes at the breast must survive

The fires of homes will stay lit

Each innocent a victory kept alive

The vile dark staved off, we'll not quit

©️Sylphide 2021

Lenten Rose

mauve lenten rose blooms

catalysing a new spring

last snows unheeded

Wane

Wane

All the year's flowers came before

Blooming at their time of choice the

Winter looms, soon the blanket white

Last of all, the chrysanthemum

Autumnal herald of warm hues the

Last bouquets for the scissors

Sweet garden, I hope the freezes hesitate

The Indian summer lingers a

While, holding the fragrant moment

©️Sylphide poem 2020

(This poem is a first attempt at a golden shovel form of the Yosa Buson haiku making up the last words of the lines)

Aubergine

Aubergine

Rock-a-bye

My treasure heart

Encircled in my ribs

Glow in harmony

One in love

Eternity

Always in reach

Our vibration strings

Always connected

Never alone

Time and space powerless

To prevent it

Walls illusory

Distance meaningless

©️Sylphide poem/image 2020

Begin Blazing

The east aglow with the newest fire

Breathing in the flames I find ignition

Illuminate the paths for cognition

All nights fears set upon final pyres

Their funeral dirges played on lyres

Now begins today a coalition

Of my bright soul and these apparitions

To rise as the sun higher and higher

Every dawn a symphony swelling

The clouds dance slowly, stately with fine grace

A matching light, inside me a welling

Heart pounding, I ready for the great race

To find the darkest evils for felling

A hero's tale, bitter and sweet of taste

©️Sylphide poem 2020, image 2017

1

Summer's Taste

last of the fresh herbs

summer flavor before frost

tasting of the now

©️Sylphide poem/image 2020

Protea

Internet photo