Jan Turner

The Senses of Spring

Hear the seeded breeze
Blowing through the trees
As it searches fertile ground ...
In the coming weeks
Shoots of daisies peak
As they take a look around.

See the daffodils
Dressing up the hills
With a splash of yellow sun ...
Brilliant tulips paint
As the bluebells faint
With their drooping meadow run.

Smell the heaven scent
That the roses vent
As they climb up to your door ...
While the jasmine pose
Perfume for your nose
Blending with the sycamore.

Taste the herbal blend
Of the plants that spend
All their energies to groom ...
Cooking in the sun
`Till your dinner's done
When they make your platter bloom.

Touch the purple suede
Of the pansy shade
As it brushes through your toes ...
Feel the dewy drops
On the hollyhocks
As they're drinking from your hose.

©2006 Jan Turner

The Seeker

I asked the wind to blow me change,

Directing me another way...

Its gentle breeze would rearrange

My expectations day by day.

I asked the moon to light my path,

When lost in anger’s undertow;

In moonlight I resolved my wrath,

And mellowed in its afterglow.

I asked the rain to wash my soul,

As I embarked life’s odyssey....

It cleansed my heart and made me whole

In dewy drops of tearless sea.

I asked the sun to warm the days

That seemed to chill my ev’ry turn...

It shone with love in many ways,

Emotion’s fire naught to burn.

I asked the earth, the sky, the seas

To temper me for heaven’s groom...

And in their gentle reveries,

I found my refuge in their womb.

-Jan Turner 2006

Virginia is for Lovers*

The yards are popping daffodils

as wildflowers dress the hills;

the smell of freshness in the air

is breaking through with weather fair

...it’s springtime in Virginia.

My suntanned arms in humid heat

accompany the robin’s tweet;

white roses climb the potting shed

in hazy evening skies of red

...it’s summer in Virginia.

The dolphins dancing near the shore

are moving out to sea once more;

the Appalachian Valley’s trees

are every color in the breeze

...it’s autumn in Virginia.

The rainy coast with coming cold,

the snowy mountains we behold;

a jacket here....a skullcap there,

the holidays are in the air

...it’s winter in Virginia.

The dogwood is our stately flower;

the cardinal our bird of power.

From seaside harbors bringing changes

to Allegheny, Blue Ridge ranges

...it’s heaven in Virginia!

*VA state marketing motto

The Senses of You (Constanza)

The scent of spring is in the air;

you wear the jasmine from the hill

in flowing locks of hair that spill.

I touch the garland in your hair...

and feel the delicate array

of gentleness that you display.

You are my vision, maiden fair.

I see you where the gardens grow;

your aura mimics rainbow glow.

With salty taste of ocean air,

your lips are sweet as nature’s kiss

of ripened vine...a lover’s bliss.

I blow the conch shell from our lair.

We hear the rise and fall of waves

outside our secret ocean caves.

Summer Evening Strolls (Ottava Rima)

Each lazy summer’s evening I am drawn

To stroll amidst the garden’s growth at rest;

I watch in awe the sparkles on the lawn

That light my way to flowers I love best...

And once or twice I’ve seen a single fawn

That grazed in peace beneath the half moon’s crest.

These twilight moments end a perfect day,

While fireflies, as lanterns, light my way.

I hope my years ahead will hold in store

Such evening strolls beneath a hazy sky,

With fireflies that light my path once more

For many moons to come before I die...

I’ll take these summer walks, and like before,

The fireflies will gather by and by.

For ev’ry firefly that softly glows

A sleeping flower smiles in its repose.

Let’s Steal Away to Meet Again (Wrapped Refrain)*

Let’s steal away to some place cool,

with rivulets that foam and pool

beneath a wooded, shady shore

that frames the rocks with sycamore.

The afternoon has just begun; without delay,

let’s meet beneath the shaded sun...let’s steal away.

Let’s meet again where once we knew

the buttercups with golden dew;

we scurried to our hidden spot

where I recall forget-me-not.

And, we shall have the promised dreams that we did then,

as we revisit hideaways...let’s meet again.

http://www.shadowpoetry.com/resources/wip/wrappedrefrain.html

The Night of Tears

He heard the angel's requiem;
Jerusalem was sleeping...
as He approached Har ha-Zetim*
I heard Him softly weeping.

Gat shemanim** was calling Him,
to seek His Lord in prayer...
and in that garden, dark and grim,
I still can find Him there.

His tears of blood that stained the ground
and baptized olive trees,
have given me the faith I've found,
when praying on my knees.

For, pray He did, not for Himself
but for the likes of me...
that every soul upon the earth
would be an olive tree.

And we are baptized with His tears,
forgiven with His blood...
allowed to live eternal years
through His unselfish love.

The lush green olive trees from then
have dwindled down to eight
that we believe were there with Him
to see Him through His fate.

Now olive branches are we each
from blessed ground since birth...
and from those roots His love shall reach
each fruitful soul on earth.

©2008 Jan Turner
*Hebrew: Mount of Olives
**Hebrew: Gethsemane "oil press"

My Planet Cries (Constanza)

I walk along the water's edge
where lapping waves had once reclaimed
the virgin shorelines, then unnamed,

and look upon the murky dredge.
The nets reveal the fishes, sick
from mercury and oil slick.

The polar bears have little ledge.
The ice that's melting all around,
decreases land to stand their ground.

My planet needs an honest pledge...
the efforts coming from us all
will help it heal. I hear its call-

it pleads for help; I will not hedge.
My one small voice has made this choice
in hopes that others raise their voice.

Gardening The Rose* (Memento)

Experiences that expose

the lessons for our souls

remain

as petals falling from the rose,

each symbolizing goals

to gain.

Each petal is a memory

for ev'ry gift that's earned

anew,

and each new rose is yet to be

a jewel that is learned

and true.

*Commemorating the Holiday of Roses:

http://www.newsinkling.org/introducing-places/roses-and-holiday-of-roses-2.html

Memento created by Emily Romano: http://www.shadowpoetry.com/resources/wip/memento.html

The Peace of Wild Things (after Wendell Berry)

When despair for the world grows in me

and I wake in the midst of the night,

to my racing mind’s inquiries

I am led to the sky’s starry light.

The peace I find in nature’s laws

attunes my soul. With great respect

I feel as one with every cause...

I balance and I reconnect.

I go and lie down with the wood drake

near the lake where the great heron feeds;

I enter the peace of wild things

that are free from the forethought of deeds.

In nature’s solace I am blessed

to be surrounded with her calm;

within her peace my heart’s caressed,

each time I feel her gentle balm.

The presence of still water calms me

‘neath the day-blind stars ever furled;

as I ponder their spectrum profoundly,

I can rest in the grace of the world.

When I surrender everything

to that which heaven manifests,

the flora and the fauna sing

...and finally my spirit rests.

the sleezy slinkin skeezix

the hollow in the craggletree has always drawn a muck
of slime and wigglewally sloths and things it could abduct
and it's been said that hollow tree is still a fav'rit spot
for slinkin skeezix seekin' shade when woodsy trails are hot

     the sleezy slinkin skeezix is on the hunter's trail
     it sloaths along the briarwood while munching slug and snail
     in darkened night the craggletree is where it just might fix
     to lie in wait in hollowed fate, that sleezy slinkin skeezix

the sneakin skeezix slinks along and slithes through crunchy leaves
its coattails snag the branchy path that drags along its sleeves
and if you are a wonderin just where to look to see
that sleezy scaly skeezix, just look in the hollow tree

     the sleezy slinkin skeezix is on the hunter's trail
     it sloaths along the briarwood while munching slug and snail
     in darkened night the craggletree is where it just might fix
     to lie in wait in hollowed fate, that sleezy slinkin skeezix

(c)2007 Jan Turner

Firefly Fantasia

As dusk was settling in the sky, and eventide began to fall,

I saw a single firefly, so brightly lit against the wall

Where jasmine climbs the trellis high in white cascade.

I knew at best ‘twas fated walk that took me to this fragrant stalk

To view this backlit Tinker Bell....and yet, I knew so very well

That still my eyes could not deny the sparkle stayed.

It seemed to lilt from side to side, and as I moved it tried to hide,

Then darted back with skillful flight, to light a twinkle in the night

As if to challenge one more sigh...and so it played.

I wondered as I walked away if fireflies know how to play

Or if imagination wrought itself against all mindful thought,

But I prefer the firefly with its charade.