Severna Park

Dedicated to town I live in...


Nestled deep in the Chesapeake,
A town that folks adore.
Quietly lies,
Surrounded by,
Miles and miles of shore.

Wedged between two rivers,
Linking north to south,
The Magothy weaves,
While the Severn recedes,
Converging at each other's mouth.

Enriched with watershed wildlife,
Nurtured by the Bay,
Blue heron's stand,
In crab filled sands,
While fishermen earn their pay.

Lauded for history and culture,
A picturesque Atlantic gem.
Visitors seek,
A vestal peek,
Through Folger McKinsey's pen.

A summertime antique getaway,
Where beaches spill into backyards.
Cypress trees bend,
While seasons blend,
Into pastoral living postcards.

Baltimore's southern neighbor,
Anne Arundel's northern jewel.
Slips with yachts,
Challenge long wooden docks,
As schooners and sailboats rule.

In the shadow of old Annapolis,
Generations wind on forever,
Seafood feasts,
And iconic treats,
Severna Park, a Maryland treasure.



Copyright © December 2009
Kevin Mooney

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The Quiet Calm

Just before it starts to snow,
There is a quiet calm.
All of nature seems to sense,
The barometric hesitance,
That precedes the storm.

As the cold settles in,
Pale grey skies hang low.
Not an inkling of a sound,
Perfect silence all around,
While anticipation grows.

As first flakes trickle down,
Winter's ushered in.
The beauty and the majesty,
Of God's pure creativity,
Silently begins.

Close your eyes and listen closely,
You'll hear a distinct sound.
Hundreds of light little ticks,
Barely audible feathered drips.
As snowflakes touch the ground.

Mother Nature's artistry,
Gradually takes on form.
Trees and fields of painted white,
Crystal sculptures, heavenly sights,
Sanctify the calm.


Copyright © February 2010
Kevin Mooney


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021010

The Scent of Summer Rain

I love the scent of a summer rain,
When it's been overdue,
It cleanses away pollen stains,
Left speckled by morning dew.

It quenches thirsts for subtlety,
It eases mental strains.
It's essence has a stale fragrency,
That pleases idle brains.

It softens sun baked window panes,
Clears soil caked, dusty feet.
So often it's unjustly blamed,
For rivers in urban streets.

My soul is cleansed of temperate pain
As it pours in tearful sheets,
An effervescent cool refrain,
From morbid summer heat.

Often provoked by hurricanes,
They rinse dullness from pale blue skies.
Violent Tornado and Cyclone remains,
Causing streams and rivers to rise.

Drizzles sweet as sugar cane,
Nature's waterfall overflows,
Hailstones in it's quake proclaim,
Majestically arched rainbows.

I yearn for dawn's passionate disdain,
The rumble of turbulent skies,
Those days when thunderhead clouds contain,
Teardrops for weathered eyes.

Burdens wash down bubbling drains,
Leaving skies vibrantly blue.
They still a mind's quiet refrain.
Make the whole world feel brand new.



Copyright © May 2010
Kevin Mooney

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Another Icicle Haiku

Icy chrystal spears.
Stalactite bright chandeliers,
Winter's frozen tears.



Copyright © February 2010
Kevin Mooney

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021110

Icicles (A Haiku)

Frozen drops of tears,
Nature's chrystal chandeliers.
Winter's sculptured spears.

Copyright © February 2010
Kevin Mooney

kmm001

020810

The Wind

You beat at my door,
But you're never there,
Rattle shingles and windows,
Your the source of nightmares.
You move through curtains,
With whimsical flair.
You climb through attics,
Without using stairs.
You whistle through cracks,
Without a pucker of air.
You can be heard and felt,
But not seen anywhere.

You rustle through treetops,
You tussle and tear,
You can muscle through road stops,
Without paying a fare.
You can stop all the sudden,
Sit quietly unaware.
Then blow quite violently,
Send debris everywhere.
You can blow through a tunnel,
Tip over chairs,
Fed through a funnel,
Disappear in thin air.

You've traveled to far places,
Without going anywhere,
You've spun in great circles,
Pitched buildings here and there,
You can pillage and rumble,
But never show wear.
You've climbed the highest mountains,
Without the slightest of dares,
You've flown high with kites,
While children stood and stared.
You've carried jet planes,
As they flew through the air.

You've billowed in rains,
With hurricane flair,
You've mangled umbrellas,
Shown very little care.
Made mountain sides crumble,
Left deserts bare.
You've caused men to stumble,
Without burdens to bear.
You've carried balloons.
In solemn affairs.
You've wrestled typhoons,
Made Islanders beware.

You've crossed the high seas,
Filled pirate ship sails,
Created great waves,
For surfers to share.
Blown straight in the faces
Of lions, tigers and bears.
Boaters adore you
With sails drawn in pairs,
Women don't trust you,
Lifting skirts in the air,
Men try to avoid you,
Blowing toupees, hats and hair.

Some have described you as God's Holy breath.
An inescapable source of truth, life and death,
A formidable gust that blows righteousness and sin.
An unbreakable force known as The Wind.


Copyright © August 2009
Kevin Mooney

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080109

The Life of a Leaf

Born a bud that sprouts in spring,
Bred to reign on branches limbs.
More come out as blue birds sing,
Fed by rain that enhances them.

Stretching out to fill space bare.
Growing with the glowing sun.
Catching dew drops everywhere.
Showing off for everyone.

A colorfully vibrant vestal throng,
Eventual loss of pollen's squeeze.
A visually brightened minstrel song,
Perpetual cause of cough and sneeze.

Waving gently in summer winds.
Providing cover and wanton shade.
Lying limply till autumn begins,
Striving to hover, wanting to stay.

Turning yellow, orange then brown,
Changing colors, before our eyes.
Burning torches without sounds,
Painting summer's waning skies.

Beckoned from birth by nature's call,
Desperately hoping to hang around
One by one to earth they fall.
Silently floating to the ground.

Gathered in piles, raked and blown,
A child's source of pleasured play,
Mulched and bagged, spread and sewn,
Most of course just withered decay.

Those that last just lie around,
Vie for relief of winter's end.
As seasons pass, Spring comes to town.
The Life of a Leaf begins again.



Copyright © November 2009
Kevin Mooney

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111809

Falling Moon

To the natives of Snoqualmie, it means Falling Moon. These are the majestic Snoqualmie Falls of Washington State. This is an acrostic....


Where God created first woman and man,
A spiritual maternity ward.
Salish flume, cultish swoon,
Heaven and earth, umbilical cord.
Incandescent free fall fiord,
Native American's sacred accord.
Gathered strength through powerful flow,
Transformed prayers in pools below.
Oracled legends of earth and moon.
Natural wonder, tourist boom.

Waterfall of series fame,
Often scenes week to week.
Nocturnal mist, blinding spray,
Diverted power toward twin peak.
Elevated famous lodge and spa,
Revelations of Snoqualmie Falls.


Copyright © September 2009
Kevin Mooney

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Waterfall (a Haiku)

River flow cascade,
Ebb pinnacle, plunging tide,
Cavalcade of time.


Copyright © October 2009
Kevin Mooney

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100109

Welcome to Bawlmur Hun

 

This is an acrostic written in a strange language that only people from Baltimore understand...

C'lectivly 'nchanting, 'speshly aul da Key veuws,
Histaurcly rich, maudern, Yerpian, turisty an new.
A Staur Spainguld memry, crabs aur a delcasy to moest,
Raven's aur wurshipd dair, to hell wit dem dam coats,
Merica's best secrit, Camben Yards an dem O's,
Innr Harbor bars an restraunts, Pollock Johnnies and Nati Bo's,
Naiberhuds like Hollan Town, Fells Point an Canton,
Grate muevees wur made by Wautrs, Levunsun an Aultmin.

Chespeake crown jule, wit water taxees and piers,
Illumanaited real purty when da muen and staurs appear.
Two haurs frum down de oshun, home to Poe, Babe, an Ripkun,
Yer in fer a Murlin treat, welcum ta Bawlmur hun.


Copyright © July 2009
Kevin Mooney

kmm049
070109

Down De Ocean

A wave breaks as a seagull rises from the foam,
A sudden breeze suggests a possible storm.
The sun bakes the sand while clouds billow like lost balloons,
A distant ship rests in the palm of my hand,
Quiet is the only thing I hear...


Copyright © May 2009
Kevin Mooney

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050109