WILD
is beautiful
wild is free —
wilderness is not
an empty canvas
for Man to do
what he will —
wilderness is
an already full canvas
painted by God
—Terri Guillemets
WILD
is beautiful
wild is free —
wilderness is not
an empty canvas
for Man to do
what he will —
wilderness is
an already full canvas
painted by God
—Terri Guillemets
like wild animals, I am happy hiding
the artificial frightens my being —
but it is time to fight for the earth
—Terri Guillemets
scrambled blackout poetry created from Rafe Martin, Birdwing, 2005,
a flock of honking geese
just flew over my city backyard
goosebumps, I got goosebumps
never, ever have I seen this
beautiful feat of nature from
my own little speck I call home
for an awesome morning moment
all my human burdens forgotten
—Terri Guillemets
swirls of light
as morning blazed alive
the darkness left
—Terri Guillemets
blackout poetry created from Maud Casey, The Man Who Walked Away, 2014,
early summer, late at night
pleasant sweet-smelling air
clouds veiling a half-lit moon
Scorpius crawling up the sky
tree-hid birds awake chirping
lone dog barking in its yard
startled stray cats darting
crickets playing insistent songs
quiet of people gone to bed
mellow breezes gently stirring
damp-grass lawns subtly cooling
street lights too brightly illuming
saguaro blooms softly glowing
—Terri Guillemets
Spring is the green
is the peace
is the breeze
and the blossoms
and the blues
past the buds
to the pinks
on the brink
and the warmth
and the warbles
and the weeds
all the yellows
and the bees
and the buzzing
living branches
and the grasses
and the gardens
and the growing
and the blowing
of the pollens
oh! the purples
and the chirples
of the birds
and the beauty
and the butterflies
in the skies
and the sun—
Springtime’s fun!
—Terri Guillemets
Spring excitement has entered my body, my mind, the yard!
Love vibes everywhere, bees buzz in every color of blossom.
Winter stillness ceased, idle grass is greening, trees are leafing,
the hummingbirds and geckos are back, renewed life abounds.
Warmth magics the earth, little sweet-song’d birds chirp and fly
in a playground of budding branches with a deep blue elixir sky.
Desert’s mild morning chill invigorates our souls, beckons vigor,
and begs sweater or bare-arm decisions — if coffee’s on, go bare!
freshly brewed, its steam through cool air hails springtime morn.
Earlier dawns light us awake with artful serenades of pink clouds;
gorgeous late-afternoon sunshine is Octoberesque and calming
but with air golden’d by warming fervor, not fall’s cooling swelter.
Evening breezes perfume of heaven, passion, newborn blooms.
We’ve been waiting all winter for open windows — yay & yippee!
—Terri Guillemets
Wind tries to show Tree how to run wild.
Tree: “I cannot leave this place.”
Wind: “Then let’s dance.”
—Terri Guillemets
Autumn mornings: sunshine and crisp air, birdsong and calmness,
—Terri Guillemets
Springtime is a poet —
the blue sky its blank page
so vibrant green in rhyme
a different metre for every clime
birds chirping to keep the time
wildflowers yellow, red, purple divine
words dancing on tall blades of grasses
sparkling in the morning dews
no commas the flow keeps buzzing
vernal dashes & blossoming branches
on newly greening verdant trees
refrains whispering in each breeze
butterflies — floating apostrophes
ladybugs dot floral question marks
blissful bees stray stanza to stanza
seeds disperse from verse to verse
continuing a poem that’s never ended
and into summer’s colors is blended
—Terri Guillemets
campfire flames kiss the night
stars in distant skies blaze bright
ghost story whispers all affright
rustling sounds just out of sight
—Terri Guillemets
Lightning dances —
Thunder applauds her!
—Terri Guillemets