See Me Beautiful

I stand
before the mirror of time,
body so different
from my youthful days.

Behold the origamic shapeshifter,
like that ancient Japanese artistic form.
I have been myriads of reiterations
sans pencil, paint and cutting board.

I see an intricacy of lines
deftly creased again and again
touched by life and love.
I am beauty within my folds.

Written for dVerse where today Kim asks us to write a poem to help someone facing a problem such as “finding your first wrinkle” or the “birthday blues.”  

Life’s Palette

Ring me a path round the sun,
rainbow filaments in cloud tulle veil
daffodil slippers, bluebelle gloves
and dew drop rouge.

Kaleidoscope living on a color wheel.
Storm-grey ombrés to brightest white
pale pink to fuscia bold,
my patina glows.




Written for dVerse, the virtual pub for poets where it’s Quadrille Monday (poem of exactly 44 words, not including the title). De is hosting and prompts us with the word “storm.”  Photos of yesterday’s amazing sky in Andover, MA. Artist’s palette is outside a studio in St George, Bermuda. 

Paris Climate Accord Discord

Glaciers shed ice tears.
Care ye not for the children to come?
Listen to the sound of wailing winds
as earth reels in shock
and oceans rise in bewilderment.
Why hast you forsaken me?

Photos from our Alaska trip. Glaciers cracking and melting: global warming and climate change cannot be denied.  June 1, 2017: the U.S., under one man’s decision, retreats from its global responsibility.

Character Study

Elderly woman, invisible to passersby.
Lover of lines, grammarian of old,
cast off indirect object.
Homeless: predicate adjective.

Drawstring wale-worn bag  clutched in lap
holds one ruler, three pencil stubs,
and one frayed hankie from genteel days.
Diagram her a lost soul,

sitting on birdshit encrusted bench
invisible to passersby.

mf3LZgc

Shared with dVerse, the virtual pub for poets. Bar opens at 3 PM Boston time.
It’s open link night so stop on by and share some words!

Twiglet #26

Plants green
bloom beautiful
dry themselves to seed.
Inside-out they sow themselves
to green and bloom again.

img_0035

Written for Misky’s Twiglets. Two word prompt given this week, “inside” and “out” to spark a thought, a phrase, a poem. The shorter the better, hence the name twiglet. Photo: taken last year on the Rose Kennedy Greenway in Boston.

Supplicant

She stood at the abyss
stared straight ahead, contemplating.

To gaze down and succumb,
or look up and search the night sky,

seek one shooting star
one point of light, one gift her quest:

a day followed by tomorrows.

img_0112

I’m hosting Tuesday Poetics at dVerse, the virtual pub for poets. The prompt for today is to write a poem using the word “gift.”  Consider the many ways the word can be used: gift of gab, a special trait, a package wrapped in ribbons, gifting someone, etc. Photo: Starry Night by Vincent van Gogh. Pub opens at 3 PM Boston time. Come join us!

The Bed

We fancied ourselves antiquers in those days. In reality, we bought used furniture at farm auctions, garage sales, and dusty second hand stores.

In its day, it was called a sleigh bed. We spied the slightly warped high headboard and frame propped up against a wall, and bargained for a price we could afford. Back home, our daughter was fast approaching the age to move out of her crib into a “big girl bed” and my parents were with us for a visit. We enlisted my father’s help. He sanded then painted the headboard white and stenciled it with blue tulips and red hearts. Our daughter slept with that design above her head long after my father died. Until she left the nest and began her college years.

robin gathers twigs
nesting haven grows crowded
wind tussles emptiness

IMG_5274

Grace is hosting Haibun Monday at dVerse, the virtual pub for poets. Haibun: one or two paragraphs of prose (not fiction) followed by a haiku. She introduces the Japanese tradition of kintsugi, asking us to write about finding beauty in broken pieces or imperfections. Photo: headboard from the side. This is my daughter, many years ago, being awakened by a surprise birthday party from her friends.

The Black Widow

Imagining herself on silver screen,
seductive in lace, she hosts a soiree.
She lures her guests, her evil goal unseen,
with delicate threads to lead them astray.
Her hourglass figure, tempting when seen,
is summoned to weave a web for her prey.
Beware,  Miss Arachnid’s truly notorious.
Her venomous kiss, always victorious.

black-widow-spider-2042047_1280

Written for dVerse, the virtual pub for poets, where today, Frank is hosting and asks us to write an Ottava Rima. A new form for me, and quite challenging. It is actually an old Italian form of poetry that has multiple stanzas of 8 lines, in iambic pentameter (10 feet per line), with an ababababcc rhyme scheme. Frank gave us a reprieve and said one stanza was acceptable. Iambic pentameter also involves a pattern of unstressed and stressed syllables — which I find extremely difficult — so I originally went with 10 syllables per line and avoided the stress! The version you just read, went back and aimed for the iambic pentameter. I have new admiration for Will Shakespeare! Stop over and see what others have done with the form — or better yet, give it a try yourself and join us — we’re a very friendly bunch! Photo in public domain.